AUG. 14 
525 
THE BUBAL NEW-YOBXEB. 
FOUR-LEAFED CLOVER. 
Long. Ions ago I road of one who sought 
So far and wide, in many climes and ways, 
For four-leaved clover: but he sought in vain, 
And wont home empty after many days. 
Weary at last, he sat by his own door, 
And there, right at hie feet, the treasure found. 
It was so uear he had not thought to look 
So near at hand and on such homoly ground. 
And so we often overlook what lie 
Right at our feet, aud call them common things. 
The bird of brilliant plumage and no song 
I count less lovely than the bird that sings. 
“ But O, we are blind. “ Had I that gift," 
We say, “ were this good or that talent mine, 
How would I use it ? What good would I do? 
Poor blind mortals 1 how we “.seek a sign!" 
Each one of us has for its earnest use 
Some talent given, five or two or one; 
It is no small thing if we use it well, 
No small thiDgif we miss the words, “ Well done.” 
And many blessings come as falls the dew— 
Unheard, unseen—and we perceive it not, 
So many a battle's fought and victory won, 
Where, calm aud silent, no man knows the spot.. 
The four-leafed clover grows right at our feet, 
The good Is here that we so long have sought. 
Let us be watchful lest the clover grow 
So low aud humble that we know it not. 
-»+-♦-- 
LILY DAVIS. 
CHAPTER I. 
“Which la the prettier of the two? Why, the 
little dark one, of course. Who la she, by-the 
way ?” 
“Haven’t the slightest Idea; only saw them 
yesterday. Don’t admire your taste, though, 
Hammond. 
•• As you like; In my opinion the dark one Is the 
prettiest girli have yet seen In Kyde; and Hay 
you twenty to one that I know her before the 
week is out." 
"Not at all Improbable,” returned Rutherford, 
adjusting his tie. “ When you do know her. Intro¬ 
duce me to the sister—should think they are sis¬ 
ters, they dress alike.” 
“Y-yas; rathah neat get up—those blue Jer¬ 
seys,” broke in a third speaker, who had just 
dropped his eyeglass after a long stare lu the 
direction of the sisters. ** What do you say to cut¬ 
ting wound by the band and having anothah look ? 
We should meet them.” 
“ Better stay where you are; tuey will come 
back,” said Hammond, drily. 
“ To look at. you, I suppose 7 I declare you are 
getting Insufferable,” returned Rutherford, good- 
humoredly. “Can’t Imagine what the girls see In 
you to admire.” 
The two young meu turned off together down 
the pier. A glance would tell you what they were. 
Young subs, from their heads to their shining 
boots. Square shoulders; Irreproachably- fitting 
coats, faultless trousers, straight collars, light ties, 
hats the sixteenth-part of an Inch on one side, an 
erect carriage, with the faintest suspicion of 
swagger, Just enough lu their own estimation, to 
raise them above the common herd, and prove 
undeniably to outsiders that they were offi¬ 
cers and gentlemen. Good-looking fellows they 
were undoubtedly, and trunk, good-hearted fellows 
also, despite their youthful vanity, which was 
harmless and very amusing. 
The worst of the three companions was the man 
they left leaning against the pier-rail, Arthur 
Hammond- Older, taller, and broader than either 
of the other two, a magnificent figure six feet two 
inches In hlght, a manner half-frank, half-cynical, 
with a dash of carelessness In it that possessed an 
extraordinary charm for most people wbo knew 
him, and a face that had a certain dark beauty of 
Its own, but which a coarse mouth prevented from 
being strictly handsome. 
“Hike that little thing,” he soliloquized. “1 
wonder who knows her? 1 must get Introduced; 
It will be something to do, and things have been 
frightfully slow for the last fortnight.” 
Just then the sisters in question came slowly In 
sight, and bowed to a young man, ensconsed lu 
one of the covered seats, as they passed. 
"They know Brlmiey,” pursued Hammond to 
himself, “That will do; he isn't in our set, but 
I will get him to do the formal and drop him after¬ 
wards; probably they are not In our set either, 
but It doesn’t matter.” 
The wearers of the blue jerseys—Mabel and Lily 
Davis-paused at the pier-head, and looked over 
the sea and down at the boats rocking Ughtly 
beneath them. 
•• Here comes the Southsea Bteamer,” said Ma¬ 
bel, looking where the crowded packet-boat was 
noisily beating her way through the calm blue 
water. " Shall we go and see her come in 7" 
" More vanity and vexation of spirit 1” 3lgned 
Lily, comically. In flat contradiction to her name, 
she was the brunette. “ No: I don’t want io see 
the landing ; there are sure to be the usual num¬ 
ber of nice people we would like to know and can’t, 
I am sick of it, Mab; we are the best-dressed girls 
on the pier, and you are the prettiest, and yet we 
don’t know a soul worth speaking to.” 
“ Don't fret yourself about It now, Lily. Let us 
be thankful that we are here together for an 
hour.” 
“Certainly it is a treat, Mab,” said the other, 
with a look at her sister that had a world of love 
In It. “I would give anything to know those 
Carruthere girls, but I expect they would never 
know us; and yet people do get Into a nice set 
who are no better than we are. How do they 
manage It, Mab?” 
“They are richer than we are, that is the 
secret,” returned Mabel, turning her delicate pro¬ 
file away from the sunlight. “Money covers 
multitude of sins. If we had twenty thousand 
pounds a^year, people would forget that we were 
ever connected with a livery-stable.” 
A little vindictive sparkle came Into Lily’s soft 
eyes. 
“Marry Brlmiey, and you will have money 
enough: I’m sure he worships you.” 
“I hate Brlmiey t" 
“ Be quiet,” said her sister, quickly. “ He Is 
coming this way; and I declare, he has one of the 
officers with him. What an extraordinary thing! 
I didn’t know he knew any of them.” 
Little Brlmiey came up blushing. lie was a 
genuine little fellow, despite his lack of polish, 
and his adoration of LUy was unfeigned and sin¬ 
cere. 
“How d’ye do, Miss Davis—a beautiful after¬ 
noon, Is It not?—Let me Introduce my friend Mr. 
Hammond.” 
Hammond raised hls hat gracefully to the sis¬ 
ters. 
“Are you not too far from the music to enjoy It? 
Shall we stroll nearer ?” he said, hls well-bred 
voice sounding pleasantly In their ears; and In 
another minute Lily found herself walking by hls 
aide, while little Brlmiey followed abstractedly 
with M abel, contenting himself with the. back view 
of Lll>’a graceful figure, and envying Hammond 
from the bottom of hls heart. 
There was the usual light, mutual cross-exami¬ 
nation that takes place when two people first be 
come acquainted with each other. 
“ Were you at the concert last night, Miss Da¬ 
vis?" 
“Yes; odd I didn’t see you. Where did you 
sit?” 
“ in the second row of seats.’’ 
“Ah! 1 was farther back. You were near the 
Carruthers, then ? Nice girls—do you know 
them?” 
“ No; we don’t know any one here,' 1 coldly. 
“ Then 1 consider myself fortunate In being the 
first to make your acquaintance,” gallantly. 
After this the conversation became more Inter¬ 
esting. Hammond never lost an opportunity of 
conquest, and the present prize was attractive 
enough to warrant some trouble lu the winning of 
It. It was not what he said that fascinated hls 
victims, but the winning Intonation of his voice, 
and the softness of t he glance that accompanied 
the most ordinary sentence— u glance more full of 
subtle flattery than a suing of .conventional com¬ 
pliments, and which few women could resist. In 
a very short time, without actually saying so, he 
had Inferred that Lily was the fairest specimen of 
girlhood In the country, that her appearance In 
Hyde had suddenly awakened in him an Interest 
he had never felt before; that he had vowed he 
would move heaven and earth for an introduction; 
and that now he had obtained It he would abso* 
lutely languish for their next meeting. 
At the same time he was mentally taklug notes 
of her In hls own tashlou. 
‘ blmple little thing > Not lu society, but would 
like to be. is she powdered or not ? Can hardly 
tell.” 
As for Lily she was happy, in her opinion she 
had the handsomest man on the pier, as her cav¬ 
alier was certainly the tallest; more than all, he 
was a gentleman, and this was hls greatest charm 
ror her. She was not so foolish aa to believe Im¬ 
plicitly all hls words Implied, bur, she knew she 
was pretry, aud It was very pleasant to think that 
he had been struck with her, aud preferred her 
society to that of the many girls he bowed to us 
they passed them lu the stream of promeuaders. 
The sun stooped lower towards the sea. The 
music stopped, 'l he people begau to disperse. 
“ six, LUy, aud we promised to be In at halt- 
past ; we must go back,” said Mabel. 
“Wego the same way, 1 believe?” said Ham¬ 
mond. 
And they went rhe same way, and he parted 
from her at the door, with a lingering pressure of 
(he hand and a low “ I may hope to see you to¬ 
morrow, may 1 not?” 
Lily went In with flushed cheeks. 
1 He la so delightful,”she said to Mabel. “So 
unlike me usual men we meet; and he really 
seems anxious to know us.” 
Hls attentions flattered LUy and pleased her; 
but at the same time there was a little drop of 
bitterness In her cup. 
His sisters were In Hyde, and he did not Intro¬ 
duce her to them. 
if Mrs. Davis had been a sensible woman, she 
would not have allowed her daughters to receive 
any attention from a man whose mother and sis¬ 
ters did not consider them their equals; but she 
was weak and good-natured, and rather encour¬ 
aged than thwarted the intimacy, and so the mis¬ 
chief went on. 
The six weeks drifted by. 
“Only one more evening, and then we go back 
to the old duU routine, Mab ? How I shall hate it: 
how i shall hate the people we meet alter this lit¬ 
tle oasis In the desert.” 
Mabel’s only answer was to kiss her, and stroke 
the pretty dark head that had dropped upon her 
shoulder. 
“We shall come here again next Summer; 
mamma said so to-day; but I almost hope you 
won’t see Mr. Hammond any more, chlldle.” 
“ Why v ” 
“ 1 don’t know—l don’t believe in him somehow 
or other. He is very Irresistible; but don’t lose 
your heart to him. 1 am sure he is an utter flirt.” 
“Iam sure of it, too, but let me be happy, now, 
Mab." 
There was witchery In the music that night, a 
glamor in the lamplight and starlight, a dreamy 
melody In the low wash of the glistening waters 
against the wooden landing-stairs. It was a night 
whose influences Bwept the strings of love and 
sorrow, and sot them singing- In many a heart. 
“ Don’t go in yet,” said Hammoud, as they left 
the pier together. 
“ l must,” said LUy, feebly. 
“ Why should you ? your mother and sister are 
far behind, and they have Brlmiey with them. 
Just one more stroll by the rock-walk. It Is our 
last evening, Lily.” - v 
Lily looked doubtfully back towards her mother, 
and wistfully in the direction of the rock-walk. 
“ Do come," he pleaded. “ I have so much that 
T must tell you. Your people know you are with 
me. Don’t be cruel, and refuse me a last walk; 
think how wretched I shall be when you are 
gone. ” 
would he really be wretched? Her heart 
throbbed with delight; and he had so much to 
tell her. Who knew what It would be ? 
“ WeU, for halt an hour—no more.” 
The rock-walk was almost deserted. They sat 
down on a sheltered seat, just large enough for 
two. 
“ What time do you start 7” 
“Mid-day, I think.” 
“ How tne time has flown ?” 
“ Time generally goes quickly at the sea,” 
“Don’ttalk In that matter-of-fact tone; turn 
round. 1 want to see your face,” he said, bending 
hls head to hers. 
“ I’m sure my proflle will do as well, it’s better 
than my full face,” she answered, mischievously. 
“ Lily, you shan’t tea/.e me on our last evening. 
Remember l may never see you again.” 
The laughter went out of her face in a moment. 
“ VVe shall come back here next Summer," she 
said, with a little wistful glance at him tnat said 
so much more than her words. 
“ And I may be at the other side of the world; 
there is a rumor of our being ordered out next 
year,” 
This was a reserve shot of Hammond’s that al¬ 
ways told. 
“ Ordered to India ?” she said, and was It the 
word India, or a colder breeze from the sea, that 
made her shiver Involuntarily ? 
“ Lily, you will write to me. won’t you ?” 
“ 1 haven’t got your address.” 
“ t will give it to you, and I know yours. By-the- 
by, do they read your letters at home ?” 
“ Sometimes. I expect mamma would wonder 
why you wrote, and want to see.” 
“ numph l Well, look here, I shall rind an ex¬ 
cuse to write to you easily enough. I shall write 
an ordinary epistle, and sUp It In a private sheet 
for yourseir, and youneed only show one. Do you 
understand, pet?” 
Sir. Arthur Hammond had entered into this 
honorable arrangement with at least four other 
young ladles at Hyde and Southsea, though, to 
their credit be It known, that each girl fondly be¬ 
lieved herself to he hls only correspondent. 
“But won’t you-won’t you tell mamma?” she 
said, hesitatingly, playing with the links in hls 
cuff. 
" What! tell her that I love you, with my pres¬ 
ent prospects ? Shq would box my ears for me ■ 
No, little woman ; no one must know of It but you 
and I; and after all, darling. It concerns no one 
else. You don’t love any one more than me, do 
you 7" 
Ah! the look of perfect heart-surrender she 
gave him from her lovely eyes! It should have 
aroused him to a sense of the sorrow he was deal¬ 
ing her. it should have sent him on hls knees at 
her feet to beg for her forgiveness. But he had 
played the game too often to be troubled by such 
trifles.” 
" We must go back! 1 am sure we have been 
longer than halt an hour. I shall get scolded I 
i >h, do come 1” 
•• You don't think 1 am going to let you go like 
like this?" 
What foreboding was It that made her hesitate ? 
Had he not told her he loved her ? Did she not 
consider herself engaged to him now ? 
“ No one has kissed me before,” she murmured, 
hiding her face. 
“All the more reason why l should!" And 
laughing, he held her bauds fast and. stooping 
down, took away the first freshness and purity 
from the sweetest Ups that he had ever kissed. 
Door, foolish little LUy, had she only known how 
bitterly she would regret those kissses! They 
seemed a sacred seal and sign or love to her; they 
were merely a minutes amusement to him. 
They stroUed slowly homewards alter that, and 
parted at the dark, open doorway of the house 
where the Davises were staying. He took her 
face In both hls hands. 
“ 1 shall want a letter every week. Good-bye, 
darting, good-bye!” 
As she sprang up the stairs, flushed and glowing 
with hlawarm kisses on her lips, she met Brlmiey 
on the wide, lamp-Ut landing. Hls face was very 
pale, but she did noi notice It; she only noticed 
that he looked short and very plain after the 
splendid specimen of manhood she had just left, 
“ one minute, Mias Davis, I Implore you! Give 
me a minute's time to speak to you! ” 
shehalted impatiently; she was eager to pour 
the story into Mabel’s ears. 
“ I am dreadfully tired, Mr. Brlmiey 1” 
“ l know, l feel I am a brute to keep you, but I 
must speak.” He grasped the banisters in hls ner¬ 
vousness. “ I have been celling your mother to¬ 
night what you must have guessed long ago, and 
she has given her consent- - 
“To what?” gasped Lily. 
“Oh—oh! LUy—Miss Davis—I know I am a 
rough, unpolished fellow, and can’t flatter you and 
make law speeches, but 1 love you—upon my 
honor I love you more than I love my life! Heav¬ 
en only knows what I have suffered this last fort¬ 
night, Lily! Won’t you say a kind word to me 
Lily! 
He caught her hands, but she wrenched them 
away. 
“Don’t; you frighten me, Mr. Brlmiey! I—I 
don’t love you—1 never could! I am very sorry. 
Good night.” 
She turned and fled up to her room and shut the 
door. BrUuley was an honest, worthy little feUow, 
the sou of a rich tradesman, and the liberal allow- 
ance he received from hls father equalled the in¬ 
comes of half a dozen of the subalterns of the iiOOtn 
Reghnent. He was In love for the first time In 
hls life-steadily and truly; and he would have 
made LUy a happy wife, so far as love and devo¬ 
tion can make a woman happy. 
“ I know what has done It,” he muttered to him¬ 
self. If that officer had not come In the way she 
would have loved me 1” 
Meanwhile Mr. Arthur Hammond sauntered con¬ 
tentedly home, to hls quarters.—[To be continued. 
MAGAZINE8 FOR AUGUST. 
Thk Herald of Hkax,th.— Contents: Common 
Mind Troubles; Feminine Athletics; The Wisdom 
of Trust,; Humorous Paragraphs; a Presidential 
Candidate; What shall we do with our Daughters? 
Record of Hygienic Progress; Good Habits Taught 
In the Sunday-school; Courage; Darwin's Reply 
to a Vegetarian; Diphtheria from bad Water; 
Soda and Saleratus; Garments for Little Girls in 
Warm Weather; Bread and Disease; Light Un¬ 
leavened Cakes; To Cure Fits of Sneezing; The 
Era of Pads; Sanitary Errors: Honors to V\ oman; 
To Test Milk for Water; Women’s Headaches; 
Mouth Disinfectant; The Treatment of Sprains. 
Current Literature; Health Foods. 
What Shall Wk no with our Daughters?— 
The question at the head of this article is going 
the rounds of the newspapera, and receiving all 
sorts Of answers, according to the opinions or the 
various writers who discuss its merits. It does 
not seem a very difficult question to answer. 
Let us give our daughters a scientific education. 
It is Just as useful for them as for our sons. Then 
they would cease to read so many novels, which 
only excite that part of their nature already too 
well developed. The knowledgeof various sciences 
would remove from woman's life a very grave 
danger; that of sentimentalism. Novel reading 
develops the Hentlmental, the emotional sides of 
their natures. A study of the sciences would de¬ 
velop the more cool, self-reliant womanly char¬ 
acter. 
Much more might be said. We will only add, so 
far as possible tit them for those duties of life 
which are almost sure to come to them after they 
become, mature. Thus will they become more 
charming as daughters, more useful as women, 
more happy aa mothers. 
The American Naturalist—Contents :—The 
Fabrication of Aino Cloth; English Birds com¬ 
pared with American; On the Age of the Laramie 
Formation as Indicated by its Vegetable Remains; 
Notes on the Flowering of Saxlfraga Sarmentosa; 
Destruction of Obnoxious Insects by means of 
Fungoid Growths; Recent Literature; General 
Notes; Botany; Ecology, Anthropology, Geology 
and Palaeontology, Microscopy; Scientific News; 
selected Articles In Scientific serials. 
This number maintains Its usual standard. The 
articles are treated In an entertaining manner, 
while they are filled with the power of enlighten¬ 
ment obtained from scientific research. Readers 
must be educated to a point of appreciation for 
deep literature to enjoy the contents of Its pages, 
and for such It is intended. 
Goon Company, Number Eleven, opens with 
Notes of Travel, by Charles Dudley Warner, at the 
end of which he throws the charm of hls style 
about an account of the Immense Chicago stock- 
yards In away to delight the new Porkopoll3. 
An Idea of the prevailing Southern diet and the 
obstacles to Introducing improved methods In 
cooking 1 h given in an account of personal exper¬ 
ience by Mrs. Helen Campbell. 
Those familiar with tho attractive grace of E. S. 
Gilbert's uature siudles will not need to be told 
that hls “ Midsummer ” la adapted to the season 
and entertaining. Seasonable, too, Is Dora Read 
Goodale s vividly descriptive poem “ A Summer- 
night Storm,” and another gracefully descriptive 
bit of verse, “Sunshine.” Mrs. Celeste M. A. 
Winslow’s verses, “ Border-lands,” have decided 
merit. 
Octave Thanet has the “ Romance of a Med¬ 
icine Bottle,” and there Is a full allowance of 
stories by Ellen W. Olney, L. K. Black, Mabel 
S. Emery and David Ker; also contributions from 
B. F. DeCosta, Mrs. Edward Asliley Walker and 
J. B. T. Marsh; and several shorter sketches. 
BRIC-A-BRAC. 
“ The census Infamy” Is what It Is called now 
by the jealous citizens of St. Louis who have 
heard that Chicago has the larger population. 
An Omaha bride was married barefoot because 
her husband’s family went that way, and she 
didn’t want to seem proud. 
Doctor— “ You must drink claret to build up 
your system." Patient —“ Oh, don’t ask me to do 
that, doctor. I am a wine merchant; I know now 
it’s made.” 
Old “ Speckle” rose from off her nest 
And cackled with much vigor, 
As if to say, " That egg’s my best. 
No hen can lay a bigger.” 
While Johnnie, standing near the gate. 
In mute contempt was gazing-, 
As if he oould not tolerate 
The fuss the hen was raising. 
Hls protest took her down a peg— 
He raised his voice to say it— 
" You fink you're smart—Dod made zat egg— 
You toodn’t help but fay it!” 
A clergyman In Pittsburg lately married a lady 
with whom he received the substantial dowry of 
ten thousand dollars and a fair prospect for more. 
Soon afterward, while occupying the pulpit, he 
gave out a hymn, read the first four stanzas and 
was reading the fifth— 
Forever let my grateful heart 
flia boundless grace adore— 
when he hesitated and exclaimed: “ Ahem i The 
choir will omit the fifth verse,” and sat down. 
