THE VOICE IN THE TWILIGHT.
MRS. HERRICK JOHNSON,

I was sitting alone toward the twilight,
With spirit troubled and vexed,

With thoughts that were morbid and gloomy,
And faith that was sadly perplexed.

Some homely work I was doing

For the child of my love and care,
Some stitches half wearily setting
In the endless need of repair.

But my thoughts were about the "building,"
The work some day to be tried;

And that only the gold and the silver,
And the precious stones should abide;

And remembering my own poor efforts,
The wretched work I had done,
And, even when trying most truly,
The meagre success I had won!

"It is nothing but wood, hay, and stubble,"
I said, "It will all be burned,-

This useless fruit of the talents
One day to be returned.

"And I have so longed to serve Him,

And sometimes I know I have tried;
But I am sure when he sees such building,
He will never let it abide."

Just then, as I turned the garment,
That no rent should be left behind,
My eye caught an odd little bungle
Of mending and patchwork combined.

My heart grew suddenly tender,

And something blinded my eyes
With one of those sweet intuitions
That sometimes makes us so wise.

Dear child, she wanted to help me;
I knew 'twas the best she could do;
But oh, what a botch she had made it,―
The gray mismatching the blue!

And yet—can you understand it?—
With a tender smile and a tear,
And a half-compassionate yearning,
I felt her grown more dear.

Then a sweet voice broke the silence,
And the dear Lord said to me,
"Art thou tenderer for the little child
Than I am tender for thee?"

Then straightway I knew His meaning,
So full of compassion and love,
And my faith came back to its Refuge,
Like the glad returning dove.

For I thought when the Master Builder
Comes down his temple to view,
To see what rents must be mended,
And what must be builded anew;

Perhaps, as he looks o'er the building,
He will bring my work to the light,
And seeing the marring and bungling,
And how far it all is from right,
He will feel as I felt for my darling,
And will say as I said for her,
"Dear child, she wanted to help me,
And love for me was the spur,

"And for the real love that is in it,
The work shall seem perfect as mine;
And because it was willing service,

I will crown it with plaudit divine.”
And there, in the deepening twilight,
I seemed to be clasping a Hand,
And I felt a great love constrain me
Stronger than any command.

Then I knew by the thrill of sweetness
'Twas the hand of the Blessed One,
Which would tenderly guide and hold me
Till all the labor is done.

So my thoughts are nevermore gloomy,
My faith no longer is dim;

But my heart is strong and restful,
And my eyes are unto Him.

A PIECE OF RED CALICO.-ANDREW Scroggin.

I was going into town the other morning, when my wife handed me a little piece of red calico, and asked me if I would have time, during the day, to buy her two yards and a half of calico like that. I assured her that it would be no trouble at all, and putting the piece of calico in my pocket, I took the train for the city.

At lunch time I stopped in at a large dry-goods store to attend to my wife's commission. I saw a well-dressed man walking the floor between the counters, where long lines of girls were waiting on much longer lines of customers, and asked him where I could see some red calico.

"This way, sir," and he led me up the store. "Miss Stone," said he to a young lady, "show this gentleman some red calico."

"What shade do you want?" asked Miss Stone.

I showed her the little piece of calico that my wife had given me. She looked at it and handed it back to me, then she took down a great roll of red calico and spread it out on the counter.

"Why, that isn't the shade !" said I.

"No, not exactly," said she, "but it is prettier than your sample."

"That may be," said I; "but, you see, I want to match this piece. There is something already made of this kind of calico, which needs to be made larger, or mended, or something. I want some calico of the same shade."

The girl made no answer, but took down another roll. "That's the shade," said she.

"Yes, I replied, “but it's striped.”

"Stripes are more worn than anything else in calicoes," said she.

"Yes, but this isn't to be worn. It's for furniture, I think. At any rate, I want perfectly plain stuff, to match something already in use."

“Well, I don't think you can find it perfectly plain, unless you get Turkey red."

"What is Turkey red?" I asked.

"Turkey red is perfectly plain in calicoes," she answered.

"Well, let me see some."

We haven't any Turkey red calico left," she said, “but wo have some very nice plain calicoes in other colors."

"I don't want any other color. I want stuff to match this." "It's hard to match cheap calico like that," she said, and so I left her.

I next went into a store a few doors further up Broadway. When I entered I approached the "floor-walker," and handing him my sample, said:

"Have you any calico like this?"

"Yes, sir," said he. "Third counter to the right."

I went to the third counter to the right, and showed my sample to the salesman in attendance there. He looked at it on both sides. Then he said:

"We haven't any of this."

That gentleman said you had," said I.

"We had it, but we're out of it now. You'll get that goods at an upholsterer's."

I went across the street to an upholsterer's.

"Have you any stuff like this?" I asked.

"No," said the salesman. "We haven't. Is it for furniture?"

"Then Turkey red is what you want."

"Is Turkey red just like this?" I asked.

"No," said he; "but it's much better."

"That makes no difference to me," I replied. "I want something just like this."

"But they don't use that for furniture,” he said.

"I should think people could use anything they wanted for furniture!" I remarked, somewhat sharply.

"They can, but they don't," he said, quite calmly. "They don't use red like that. They use Turkey red."

I said no more, but left. very large dry-goods store.

The next place I visited was a

Of the first salesman I saw I in

quired if they kept red calico like my sample.

"You'll find that on the second story," said he.

I went up-stairs. There I asked a man:

"Where will I find red calico?"

"In the far room to the left. Right over there." And he pointed to a distant corner.

I walked through the crowd of purchasers and salespeople, and around the counters and tables filled with goods, to the far room to the left. When I got there I asked for red calico. "The second counter down this side," said the man.

I went there and produced my sample. "Calicoes down stairs," said the man.

"They, told me they were up here," I said.

"Not these plain goods. You'll find 'em down-stairs at the back of the store, over on that side.

I went down-stairs to the back of the store.

"Where will I find red calico like this?" I asked.

"Next counter but one," said the man addressed, walking with me in the direction pointed out. "Dunn, show red calicoes."

Mr. Dunn took my sample and looked at it.

"We haven't this shade in that quality of goods," he said.

66

'Well, have you it in any quality of goods?" I asked.

"Yes, we've got it finer." And he took down a piece of calico, and unrolled a yard or two of it on the counter.

"That's not this shade," I said.

"No," said he. "The goods is finer and the color's better." "I want it to match this," I said.

"I thought you weren't particular about the match," said the salesman. “You said you didn't care for the quality of the goods, and you know you can't match goods without you take into consideration quality and color both. If you want that quality of goods in red you ought to get Turkey red." I did not think it necessary to answer this remark, but said:

"Then you've got nothing to match this?"

"No, sir. But perhaps they may have it in the upholstery department, in the sixth story."

So I got in the elevator and went up to the top of the house.

"Have you any red stuff like this?" I said to a young man. "Red stuff? Upholstery department-other end of this floor."

I went to the other end of the floor.

"I want some red calico," I said to a man. "Furniture goods?" he asked.