THE BACKBITER. 
There’s some one living- in this town, 
(Maybe you know her name. 
And maybe, should I write it down, 
Your own might prove the same,) 
Who, when you say, " He’s good,” will cry, 
“ Indeed! You think that's true, 
But,’* very conildoutially, 
“ You wouldn’t— if .you knew !” 
One says, “ What pretty girl goes by 1*’ 
“ Oh. horrors ! you don’t think 
So !—Siuce he’re you and I. 
I’ll say her parents drink. 
And she,—well. I won't tell it out, 
Though I've no doubt ’tie true. 
You think she’s nice and pretty,—but 
You wouldn't, if you knew !’’ 
If one Hings BweetJy, “ How she flats!” 
If dressed in taste, “ What stylo!" 
Supremely " vulgar” nil her hats. 
Her dresses simply " vile-" 
And when good Deacon Busby failed, 
(A noble man and true,) 
She said, when we his lot bewailed, 
“ You wouldn’t,—if you know !” 
Bet those admire and love who can 
l’bis malice-breathing dame, 
Who seems to think a prosperous man 
Must Bixrely he to blame. 
That beauty is a mark of sin; 
That goodness must be crime: 
She sees but thieves and rascjls iu 
The heroes of the time. 
Sometimes she doesn't hesitate 
To tell us what »fte knows. 
And iu nine cases out of eight 
A lie is all sbe shows. 
For virtue’s sake, I hope to find 
One good old doctrine true. 
Some b ut for such J should uot mind, 
You wouldn't—if you knew. 
[Springfield Republican. 
-- 
“HANG THE BABY !’* 
ALICE GRAY. 
“ Then you won’t go, Alice ?” 
" no, Herbert—I aia sorry—but the baby!” 
“ Oh, hang the baby!” and Herbert flung out of 
he room, slamming the door behind liltn, 
Alice stooc! looking at the door, growing whiter 
and whiter. Then sbe gave a heart-breaking 
cry, fell on herkuees by the cradle, and hiding 
her face in her hands, sobbed bitterly. 
She had looked, forward so long to going to thLs 
-pmiculariparty. It was given by Mrs. Mountjoy, 
one of the leaders In society, ana all who were 
eminent In politics, diplomacy, or literature, as 
well as distinguished In the lashlonabie world, 
were sure to be there. She had been kept at 
home so much siuce baby h id been born, thatshe 
really felt the need or a little variety and relaxa¬ 
tion. But baby had been threatened with croup 
a week before, aud the fond mother had not yet 
recovered from her irlght. Baby, she admitted, 
wasuiw better, “but not Ut," she declared, to 
be left, :it least with only the nurse to look after 
It. N ui’ses are so careless, everybody had told 
her, even the best or them. So she felt It her 
duty to give up the party. She had not asked 
Herbert to give It up also, and even said there 
was no reason he should stay at home ; but still, 
In her heart of all hearts, she hoped he would. 
“He said, 'hang the baby;” yes, he did, dar¬ 
ling,” she murmured, with Indignant emphasis, 
as she bent over t se little unsconsclous sleeper. 
“ It was your papa who said that, and he has 
gone to a brilliant party, with such thoughts of 
his wife and child 1 Did you come, dearest, to 
estrange us from each other ?” 
This awful Idea called for bitter sighs. 
Herbert had said such beautllul things In her 
trusting young maidenhood. “ Never should 
their lives run in separate channels, as those of 
some married people of their acquaintance did’’— 
“ never a Joy accepted that did not make them 
ODC >’_" never a barrier should come between 
them.” And now to think that this wee babe, 
with Its golden curls, this beautiful little helpless 
creature should part them, as never,strong hands 
could! 
She pictured the gay assemblage, and her Her¬ 
bert dancing with fair young girls, smiling on 
others, and leaving her to die of heart-break. 
Her imagination, always too vivid, viewed him 
in bis triumphs, until her misery took almost the 
orm of madness. 
•* lie didn’t want me to go," she said ; “he acted 
as lr he didn't, and then he pretended to throw 
all blame on dear, helpless baby.” 
Suddenly she heard the sound of carriage- 
wheels outside ; they stopped at the door; the 
bell rung: and a fairy-like figure stood on the 
threshold of the room, In all the wlsttulness of 
expectancy, with dimpling smiles and laughing 
eyes. 
“ Oh, Mabel!” cried Alice starting to her feet 
with a glad cry. “ This Is indeed, a surprise. 
I’m so glad you’ve come. My darling sister!” 
Forthwith ensued a scene of rapturous wel¬ 
come. Then the baby was exhibited, and one 
would not have dreamed that a tear had ever 
stained the cheek of the proud mother. Then 
the visitor’s trunks were ordered to be carried 
upstairs. 
“ But where’s Herbert 7 In the study ?” said 
Mabel at last. 
All the light went out of her sister’s eyes ; her 
hands fell. 
“ He’s out—out, dear.” 
“Good 1 Don't be angry, because I’m glad, for 
we can have such a nice little chat. You didn’t 
expect me.” 
“ Of course I didn’t.” 
» We’ll, I didn’t think of coming, as you know, 
for a month yet. But I thought it would be so 
nice to surprise you.” 
“Oh! I’m so glad.” 
And then Paul is coming,’’ she said, blushing, 
“ next week, to stay a month; he has business 
here; and he wanted me bo badly to be here 
too. “ I declare,” she said, laughing, “ I’ll have 
to marry him soon to get rldot him.” 
“Oh, Mabel! don’t marry him unless you’re 
certain you’ll be happy!" cried Alice, hysteri¬ 
cally. ” Be sure, first, he won't go to parl ies, and 
le—ave you a—lone with ba—baby,” she sobbed. 
“ what! Is Herbert at a party 7” qucrrled Ma¬ 
bel, quite subdued. 
“Yes, he Is; and when I told him 1 couldn’t go 
on account of baby, be said, ‘ haDg ha—baby!’ 
Yes, you little angel, your own father sail those 
awful words—and then he si—slammed the door.” 
“ He’s a viper!” exclaimed Mabel, with sud¬ 
den vehemence. *• A nice way to treat a wire 
like you—a baby like that! But why couldn’t, 
you leave baby?” 
“ Because he was threatened with croup last 
week.” 
“ But he’s well enough now—sleeps deliciously. 
He’ll not wake up all the night, perhaps. And 
the nurse would have taken good care of him.” 
“ I should have been thinking of Are, and all 
that.” 
“ Oh, nonsense 1 You ought to have gone. But 
Herbert had no right to behave as he did; and he 
must be punishedand Mabel threw her wraps 
on the bed, and took her seat by the glowing 
Are. " It won’t do to let him get the upper hand. 
Ah ! 1 have It. I’ve thought of a splendid plan. 
A charming, delightful little plot,” and she 
clapped her hands In glee. 
“ Oh, Mabel, what Is It, ?” and Alice slid down 
at her slater’s feet, gazing in her face with ex¬ 
pectant smiles. “What are you going to do?” 
“ I’m not going to do it. 1 shall stay here and 
watch baby. You are going to the party.” 
“ Mabel! Impossible !’’ 
“ Quite possible. In fact It must be done. You 
must let Herbert see that you're as pretty as any¬ 
body, and quite as much admired. It is decided. 
You ave to go U) the party aud play a part. 
Let me arrange the programme.” 
“ But, Mabel, 1 haven’t a dress prepared—or 
anything. I gave up going a week ago, you see, 
when baby was threatened with the croup.” 
“ Pshaw I You shall wear one of mine, one of 
the most bewitching, bewildering of dresses, 
bought from my last allowance from Uncle Cur¬ 
tis. only to see It will throw you Into ecstacles. 
Worth never composed anything more lovely. 1 
want to see It on you. Come, come, call your 
maid; I am all Impatience. We’ll shame our had 
husband into good behavior, see if we don’t. 
No Irresolution, pretty sister, mine. I’ll stay at 
home, aud fancy myself mistress here, aud count 
your pictures, vases, and pretty thlugs, and cata¬ 
logue them, so aB to make mamma happy with a 
letter to-morrow. Order John, or Jack, or tdll, or 
whoever your coachman is, to get t,ho carriage— 
It that’s Impossible, send for a cab.” 
In less than an hour Mabel led her sister to the 
great French mirror, and laughingly introduced 
her to the loveliest aud best-dressed woman she 
had almost ever seen. 
Alice trembled a little when she found herself 
actually on the way to Mrs. Mountjoy’s; but her 
sister’s urgent will had conquered, and her heart 
was hardened by Herbert’s emphatic expression 
concerning the baby. She was reassured, how¬ 
ever, by Mrs. Mountjoy’s hearty welcome. 
“So glad you've come, my dear,” she said. 
“ Your usband said he feared ‘ baby ’ would keep 
you at home; but I told him it was all nonsense. 
You did right to reconsider the matter.” 
Herbert, like many handsome society men, was 
a little spoiled and selfish without knowing It. 
He loved Alice devotedly; but he was not unwil¬ 
ling to receive the sweet smiles and honeyed 
words ot others; while, with a man’s Inconsist¬ 
ency, he was not desirous that his wife should 
play the part of a married belle. 
It was while he was dancing with one of tho 
most noted and beautiful women of the metropo¬ 
lis, who was more than willing to listen to hlanon¬ 
sense, that Herbert, looking up from the face 
leaning against his shoulder, while the dreamy 
waltz music “ UMlled hearts sensitive to sadness 
as to joy,” encountered the sparkling face of his 
wife, and saw Iter arrayed In the freshest and 
most graceful oostume in the room. She was 
moving quietly along with an escort in uniform, 
“Pray, don’t stumble,’’ said his partner, petu¬ 
lantly, for from that moment the grand repose of 
his manner was gone, and the lady on his arm 
might have been made of wax. or any other duc¬ 
tile material, for all he cared now. 
“How the dickens came she here?” he muttered 
to himself, as he led his partner, absently, to a 
seat, deaf to all her pretty words, bllad to her 
fascinations, “It certainly Is Alice—but that 
dress—the prettiest thing here! and I left her 
quite determined not to come. I don’t under¬ 
stand It. Dancing with that military puppy. 
Gulnnett, too. She knows I hate him.” 
With these amiable thoughts, he laid himself 
out to gain tha attention of his wife, and make 
her explain. It was some time before he had the 
chance, so he was obliged to content himself with 
following her graceful motions, angry with him¬ 
self and with her. 
“Alice! Can I believe my eyes?” he said, at 
last, in the pause of the dance. 
“ I should think you might, rather,” was the 
nonchalant reply. 
“Pray, how did you come?” 
“ Pray, how did you come ? I rode. Did you 
walk?” 
•' Well, but—” 
“ Excuse me, I’m engaged four deep already;" 
and Herbert was forced to move aside, as a pornp- 
oub acquaintance claimed her hand. 
*• I’d like to knock that fellow down,” he mut¬ 
tered, angry in earnest. 
Another pause, and another te!e-a-(ete, Jto satis¬ 
faction glveD. Herbert had hardly the grace to 
redeem his dancing engagements. 
“ About the baby, Alice V” he asked, anxiously. 
She put her rosy lips to his ear, and in a sub¬ 
dued voice, exclaimed: 
“ Hang the baby J” 
Herbert started, and changed color. To be sure 
he had used the same language; but from her It 
was too exasperating. How he got through the 
evening he could hardly tell. When, at last, they 
were together In the carriage, driving home, there 
might have been an open rupture, but for the 
determined calmness of Alice, who took every¬ 
thing as a matter of course. 
One glance In the beautiful nursery unsealed 
hlB eyes. There by the tire, sat Mabel, In all the 
abandon ot a neqUge toilet, ber luxuriant tresses 
falling in glossy lrccdom over her shoulders, 
while the little fellow on her lap, clutching at one 
long, sblnlng curl, crowed and laughed, as well 
as he could for “ auntie’s ” smothering kisses. 
A sudden revulsion of feeling came to the 
father’s heart at sight of this sweet home-picture. 
“Aha! 1 know who contrived this plot,” he Bald. 
“ But I am glad to see you, Mabel, nevertheless.” 
“ Wasn’t she the belle of the ball V answered 
Mabel, saucily. 
“ There’s no doubt of that. At any rate, I didn’t 
get a chance to dance with her." 
“Of course. Who ever heard In society of 
dancing with one’s wife?” she said, sarcastically. 
“ I see that she followed my directions Implicitly. 
You must learn, sir, that a house divided against 
itself cannot, stand—that Is, it one half Is flirting 
at a party, and the other half at home orying her 
eyes out.” 
“Oh, Alice—were you really ?” 
"I should think she was, I can assure you 
that I myself saw half the house dissolved In 
tears, and so wretched that-” 
“Mabel, hush!” said Alice, imploringly. 
“ Traitor, do you turn on me ” exclaimed Mabel, 
with mock displeasure* 
“My child,” she went on, tossing the crowing 
cherub, “ tell your selllsh papa that he also has 
some obligations, and that It you had known you 
were to be the bone ot contention In this family, 
you’d have staid In the garden ot angels, where 
you were wanted.” 
Herbert was strongly affected by this audacious 
outburst, but it had the effect of leading him to 
see his duty in a new light. It taught him to re¬ 
flect; opened his eyes to hla selfishness; and 
made him, from that evening, a better aud more 
considerate husband. 
Six months from that time Alice was dressed 
for a party. But this time the party was given at 
her own house, aud In honor of Mabel's marriage. 
Even the bride did not look lovelier; for nothing 
now occurred to mar Alice’s happiness; and hap¬ 
piness, after all, Is the best preservative of beauty. 
“Ah! how charming you look,” whispered 
Mabel, with an arch glance, as they passed each 
other In the dance, “Prettier, even, and It la 
saying a great deal, than when I cured you! hus¬ 
band, by sending you to Mrs. Mountjoy’e * frty.” 
--* / 
A PLAN FOR THE COMMUNISTS. 
Suppose the communists take the money they 
squander In one year and apply it to the real¬ 
ization of commuulsm. Let them send out a 
committee to Kansas, Nebraska, or Texas, where 
there are millions ot acres as fair and fertile as 
the sun shines upon, with Instructions to pick 
out and purchase a county adapted to the nec¬ 
essities of communism. They can buy on long 
time, and will have to make but a very small 
payment down. As a matter of tact, the money 
now squandered by them in one year* will com¬ 
plete tne purchase. Then let them divide their 
county Into townships capable of accommodating 
two or three hundred families each, and take 
out their twenty thousand who are hostile to re¬ 
publican institutions aud to society on Its pres¬ 
ent basis. The railroads will be glad to trans¬ 
port them for almost nothlDg, and the avaricious 
grasping capitalists will he mean enough to fur¬ 
nish them with almost, everything they reed for 
their experiment, and the rest ot the population 
will escort them to the depot with a brass band, 
and throw their old shoes after them for luck. 
The leaders should be made to give bonds to re¬ 
main there, and to help in the work and share 
whatever they may have with the rest, other¬ 
wise they may get their dupes out there and then 
leave them in the lurch. 
As for the rank and file, they might be depend¬ 
ed upon to do something, as nine-tents of them 
were brought up at manual labor on the soli. 
Having located themselves, there need be no 
delay In launching their experiment, as their 
wants are very few. As they do not believe in 
churches, they wouldn’t have to spend money for 
churches, Sunday-school books, Bibles, preachers, 
pew-rents, choirs, strawberry-festivals, oyster- 
soirees, or necktie-kettledrums, Not believing In 
any hereafter, their ideas of immortality would 
be satisfied with a small patch for a graveyard, 
and they could all be dumped into one grave, on 
the true communistic plan. Not desiring to be 
educated beyond the ability to read and write, 
graded schools, proressors, colleges, text books, 
laboratories, polytechnics, the languages, globes, 
lead pencils, India-rubber, Berlin wool, pianos, 
foot-rules, and other dangerous menaces to the 
general liberty could be avoided. Having a hor¬ 
ror of labor-saving machines, they could make it 
a capital crime for any communist who should 
he found with anything more labor-saving on his 
premtsoB than a spade and hoe, and any person 
favoring tho use of the sowing machine, printing 
press, telegraph, telephone, steam engine, loco¬ 
motive, loom, mower and reaper, harvester and 
hinder, fire engiue, street car, windmill or water¬ 
wheel might be shot on the spot as a malefactor 
of the deepest dye and a conspirator against the 
peace and good order of the community. 
In this manner the vicious and the vlrluous, 
, the strong and the weak, the Sick ftfld the 
healthy, could aB settle down together upon a 
common level, share everything in common, labor 
for the common good Or not labor at all, and have 
women, children, stock, goods, ground, fire, 
water, and air in common. They would be out of 
the reach of poverty, and Treed from the grip of 
tho bloated capitalist. No factory chimneys 
would pollute their pure air. No wheel would 
vex their running streams. No sound ot psalm 
would disturb their Sabbath mornings. No 
shrieking engines would traverse their domalu. 
No hum of mower or whirr or shuttle would dis¬ 
turb the drone of the beetle and bee In their 
broad acres. In a very short time they might 
solve the problem of maintaining existence with¬ 
out self-effort, seir-respect, responsibilities, as¬ 
pirations, or amblttons, and with no other object 
of life than food and clothing.—[Chicago Tribune. 
-♦-*--*- 
HOW TO KEEP A PIANO. 
The piano Is constructed almost exclusively of 
various kinds of woods and metals; cloth, skin, 
and felt being used in the mechanical port Ion. For 
this reason atmospheric changes in-ve a great 
effect on the quality and durability of the instru¬ 
ment, and It Is necessary to protect It from all 
external influences which might affect the ma¬ 
terials of which it la composed. It must De shaded 
from the sun, kept out ot a draught, and, above 
all, guarded against sudden changes ol tempera¬ 
ture. This latter is a most frequent cause of the 
piano getting out of tune, and tho Instrument 
should be kept in a temperature not lower than 
flfty-rour degrees and not higher than elghty-stx 
degrees Farhenheit. When too cold, the wood, 
cloth and skin swell, and the mechanism works 
badly; when too warm, these materials shrink 
and cause clinking, squeaking, and other dis¬ 
agreeable sounds. Moisture Is the greatest ene¬ 
my ot the piano, and it cannot he too carefully 
guarded against. In a short time damp will de¬ 
stroy every good point In the instrument. 
The tone becomes dull and flat, the wires rusty 
and easily broken, the joints of the mechanism 
stiff, and the hammers do not strike with pre¬ 
cision, and If these symptoms are not attended 
to at once, the piano Is Irretrievably spoilt. 
Therefore do not put your piano In a damp ground- 
floor room, or between two windows, or between 
the door and the window where there is a through 
draught. Never leave the piano open when not 
in use, and above all when the room Is being 
cleaned. Do notputltnear a stove, chimney, or 
hot-air pipes. Always wipe the keys alter play¬ 
ing. Never pile books, music, or other heavy 
things on the top. Be earerul when uslDg the 
soft pedal not to thump the notes. Do not allow 
flve-n Jte or other exercises of a small compass on 
a piano you have any regard for. A leather cover 
should be kept on the Instrument when not In 
use, and removed every day for the purpose ot 
dusting. A cushion of wadding or a strip or flan¬ 
nel laid on tho keys will help to keep them white 
and preserve the polish. Never leave the piano 
open after a musical evening or dance. If you 
are obliged to have it In a damp room, do not 
place It against the wall, and raise It from the 
floor by means of Insulators, and always cover It. 
after playing. Employ the best tuner you can 
get, and, If a new Instrument, let It be tuned 
every two months during the first year, and at 
least three times a year afterward. Always have 
It tuned after a soiree If the room has been very 
hot, 
AMERICANISMS. 
Among the best known Americanisms, unused 
and scarcely understood In England, are locomo¬ 
tive for “ engine,” railroad for “ railway,” horse- 
cars for “ tramway,” depot for “ station,” switch 
for “shunt” baggage for “ luggage,” store for 
“shop,” bureau for “cheat of drawers,” clever 
for "good-natured,” boards for “deals,” calico 
for “prints" corn for "maize,” dry goodh for 
drapers’ articles or “ haberdashery,” fall for 
“autumn,”dress for “gown,” fix for “repair,” 
guess;tor “ tbluk,” hardware for “ lnm-mongery, ” 
hold on for “ stop,” homely for “ ugly,” loafer for 
“lounger,” mad for “angry," mall lor “post,’ 
pantaloons for “ trowsers,” vest for “ waistcoat,” 
quite for " very,” rooster for “ cock,” sick for ’’ 111" 
sleigh for “sledge,” stoop for “porch,” suspen¬ 
ders for "braces,” venison for “ deer meat,” and 
woods for “ a wood.” 
MAGAZINES. 
St. Nicholas for July opens brightly and sea¬ 
sonably with a story of patriotic Interest, by 
Charles U. Woodman, entitled “The Girl who 
saved the General." 
After this come several lively stories. There is 
“ The Barbecue,” by Sarah Winter Kellogg, with 
a fine picture by Walter Shlrlaw. Then comes 
“Sneeze Dodson’s First Independence Day," by 
Mrs M. H. W. Jaqulth, with a laughable picture, 
and tho flavor of July fun is well kept up by the 
tale of “A Boy's Experience with Tar Marbles” 
on a very warm day, its three Illustrations being 
by Jessie Curtis. 
Besides these attractions there Is a story en¬ 
titled “ Too many Birthdays;” and a runny poem, 
“ The Yankee Boys that dld’nt number Ten,"” with 
ten comical silhouette illustrations by Hopkins. 
“ How the Weather is Foretold” la clearly ex¬ 
plained In an article by Mr. James H. Flint; Pro¬ 
fessor W.H.Brooks of Johns Hopkins’ University, 
in a liberally illustrated paper, discourses pleas¬ 
antly about various " Birds and their Families;” 
and “The Story of Perseus,” by Mary A. Robin¬ 
son, gives a pleasant peep Into the wonderland 
of ancient mythology. 
The two aerials,—“ Pab KJn/.or,' 1 by William 
O. Stoddard, aud “ Under the Lilacs,” by Lousla 
M. Aleott—with striking pictures by Mary Hal- 
lock Foote and Sol. Kytlngo, have loDg and ex¬ 
citing Installments In this number; and t he poems 
of the issue are “Rain," by Edgar Fawcett; 
