end. The end braced himself, but the shock was too severe, and he and the little quarter-back were rolling on the ground.

But the ball was past the end, and with two men in the interference and only Harvard's full-back to pass, they could not possibly fail to score The fullback plunged bravely into the interference, but, alas too late. Yale's half had passed him and was over the line, touching the ball in directly back of the goal. Then arose such a yell as is heard only when an immense crowd is wrought up to the highest pitch of enthusiasm. The ball was brought out to the twenty-five-yard line, and the little quarter, lying down upon the ground, took it between his hands. After a moment's pause the full-back stepped a few paces to the rear, took a short run, and his foot crashed into the leather. It shot forward, and, describing a lofty parabola, passed between the goal posts, winning for Yale the great match of the year. Score, six to four.

WALDRON KINTZLING POST.

FORESHADOWINGS.

By permission of and arrangement with Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston, Mass.

Wrapped in calm maiden dreams,
Where the pale moonlight streams,
Softly she sleeps.

I do not know her face,
Pure as the lonely star
That in yon darkling space
Shineth afar;

Never with soft command
Touched I her willing hand,
Kissed I her lips.

I had not heard her voice,
I do not know her name;
Yet doth my heart rejoice,
Owning her claim;

Yet am I true to her;
All that is due to her

Sacred I keep.

Never a thought of me

Troubles her soft repose;

Courant of mine may be

Lily nor rose.

They may not bear to her

This heart's fond prayer to her,

Yet she is mine.

Wind of the winter night,

Over the fields of snow,

Over the hills so white,

Tenderly blow!

Somewhere red roses bloom;
Into her warm, hushed room,
Bear thou their breath.

Whisper-Nay, nay, thou sprite,
Breathe thou no tender word;
Wind of the winter night,

Die thou unheard.

True love shall yet prevail.
Telling its own sweet tale;

Till then I wait.

JULIA C. R. DORR.

JIMMY BROWN'S ATTEMPT TO PRODUCE

FRECKLES.

From "The Adventures of Jimmy Brown." Copyright, 1885, by Harper &

Brothers,

I

HAVE never said much about my sister Lizzie because she is nothing but a girl. She is twelve years old, and of course she plays with dolls, and doesn't know enough to play base-ball or do any thing really useful. She scarcely ever gets me into scrapes, though, and that's where Sue might follow her example. However, it was Lizzie who got me into the scrape about my chemicals, though she didn't mean to, poor girl.

One night Mr. Travers came to tea and everybody was talking about freckles. Mr. Travers said that they were real fashionable, and that all the ladies were trying to get them. I am sure I don't see why.

I've mornamillion freckles, and I'd be glad to let anybody have them who would agree to take them away. Sue said she thought freckles were perfectly lovely, and it's a good thing she thinks so, for she has about as many as she can use; and Lizzie said she'd give anything if she only had a few nice freckles on her cheeks.

Mother asked what made freckles, and Mr. Travers said the sun made them just as it makes photographs. "Jimmy will understand it," said Mr. Travers. "He knows how the sun makes a picture when it shines on a photograph plate, and all his freckles were made just in the same way. Without the sun there wouldn't be any freckles."

This sounded reasonable, but then Mr. Travers forgot all about chemicals. As I said, the last time I wrote, chemicals is something in a bottle like medicine, and you have to put it on a photograph plate so as to make the picture that the sun has made show itself. Now if chemicals will do this with a photograph plate it ought to do it with a girl's cheek. You take a girl and let the sun shine on her cheek, and put chemicals on her, and it ought to bring out splendid freckles.

I'm very fond of Lizzie, though she is a girl, because she minds her own business, and don't meddle with my things and get me into scrapes. I'd have given her all my freckles if I could as soon as I knew she wanted them; and as soon as Mr. Travers said that freckles were made just like photographs, I made up my mind I would make some for her. So

I told her she should have the best freckles in town if she would come up to my room the next morning and let me expose her to the sun and then put chemicals on her.

Lizzie has confidence in me, which is one of her best qualities, and shows that she is a good girl. She was so pleased when I promised to make freckles for her; and as soon as the sun got up high enough to shine into my window she came up to my room all ready to be freckled.

I exposed her to the sun for six seconds. I only exposed my photograph plates three seconds, but I thought that Lizzie might not be quite as sensitive, and so I exposed her longer. Then I took her into the dark closet and poured chemicals on her cheeks. I made her hold her handkerchief on her face, so that the chemicals couldn't get into her eyes and run down her neck, for she wanted freckles only on her cheeks.

I watched her very carefully, but the freckles didn't come out. I put more chemicals on her, and rubbed it in with a cloth; but it was no use, the freckles wouldn't come. I don't know what the reason was. Perhaps I hadn't exposed her long enough, or perhaps the chemicals was weak. Anyway, not a single freckle could I make.

So after a while I gave it up, and told her it was no use, and she could go and wash her face. She cried a little because she was disappointed, but she cried more afterward. You see, the chemicals made her cheek almost black, and she couldn't wash it