Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, February 9, 1873, Page 8

| THE CHICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 1873, 8 5 e e R HIS FOLKS. guess,” gaid ho, patientl, smifi out the Sundsy | dred pounds avoirdupois considerably. shaken, Coloridge's estimate of Gibbon's groat work is | through the nights of mon, leaving only & BRITISH PERIODICALS. Temple Bar, Fraser’s, the Fort- nightly, and Black- wood’s. Reminiscences of Winchester Col- lege==-" A Hundred Years Ago." The Generous Iloney-Lender: Some Curiosities of Criti- cisme---¢Middle- mareh.” TEMPLE BAR. 1In Temple Bar Frank Buckland gives eome 4 BEAINESCENCES OF WINCHESTER COLLEGE:" Immediately after chapel ths old stager boys all c2me round the pew arrivals 1o examine and eriticise them. I perfectly recollect one boy, H—, to whose Epecial care my poor confiafng mother had entrusted Eer innocent unsuspecting cub, coming up to me with » most solemn face, and saking meif I had brought with me my copy of the school book ¢ Pempe moron yroteron?” 1 eaid Ihad not, “Then,” sayshe, “you Faust borzow one st once, or tho Doctor,” 4. ¢., D, Ao Berly, the head master, < will bo ‘eure o flog you to- orrow morning, and your college tutor, one of the raefects, will elso lick you.” Bo Lo sent mo to another 0%, wh acid ho hiad lent his “ Pezmpe moron profezon, but he passed me on o a third, Lie on to n fourth ; 60 X es running about sll over the College till quite late, In a most terrible panic of mind, till at last 8 good-na- tured prafect said, “Construe it, you little fool.” T Tad vever thought of this before, I saw it directly: Zempe (send) moran (s fool) proteron (further); so the tle of this wonderful book after nll wae, “Send & 100l further.,” I then went to complain to H——; he only laughed, and shied a Donnegau's lexicon at’'my %:ead. 1 dodged it like a bird, so he made e pick 1t ‘up 20d bring it to him again, like a retriever dog. I then bad to *run for azother ahot,” and he winged me this time; 5o I ehzll never forgct (e translation of Tempe moron proteron. A fow mights aftervards ho droamt he was wendering on the sea-shore, and that a crab was pinching his foot: Instantly swikening, I experienced a moat frightfal yalh in my great toe, T bore it for awhile, Ui at last 3t becama 80 intense that I bad to jump up with s howl of 2gony; a2l was quiet, but the pull continued, and I ad 1o follow my too and outetretched leg out of bed. T then found a bit of wetted whipcord tight round it; Lt the whipeord was 60 ingeniously twisted among the beds kst it was impossible to find out who had yulled it. Ireturned to bed as savage 18 a wounded znimal. *‘The moment I was settnd, e boys all burst into o shont: “Too fit tied1” * By Jove, what o lark!” This barbarous process is called #t0e £t tio™ because 1here is a lino in Prosody which begins, *To fit ti, ut erto verti” Hence the origin of this Winchester cus- tom. Afr. Buckland is one of those unaccountable Englishmen who wero well thrashed,or “¢unded,” £ they put it, by older pupils, and ave proud ud glad of it, A grest deal bas been said and vwritten about the cruelty of *faggiyg,”and more especially of “tund- | ing,” st Winchoster. As in almost every case under dispute, the=a are two ways of looking at this mattcr. Fept within bounds, #tunding ? is 2 excellent fnatic tution, but of course may ba sometimes very much sbusad, particularlyif the prefect happen to have & bed temper. Tho boya of this generation would be a great deal better for s little judicions # tunding.” I Tately - had & page boy who could work well if he lked; ome dsy, afier o serios of Elons; euch a8 not cleaning tho monkess’ night cage when they Werein their day cage—not feeding the yarrot—omitting to brush clothes—boots not ready— 1ho room where Icast flsh left untidy, &c., always “th 7 (scomy definition of thinking above)—T czlled him up snd'esid, “Now, John, I'm going to give youa present of fifty pounds.” The boy's face brightened up, and he said, “OB, thank you, fir” t's not in money, though, John,” said L *T'm goizg togive youa solly ding,'and that will be vorth fiffy pounda to you.” All Tcan &3y in_concluding these remarks is, that the jolly good Lidings and tho severe fagging Igot as ' Iad at Winchester have been of the utmost value to mo in after life, and, thercfore, T should be sorry to €co “ fagging ™ and " tunding” done awey With at ‘Winchuester. “A DUNDRED YEARS AGO”™ 18 the story of 1773. Perusing records that are s century old is something better than listening to & centenarian, even if his memory could go back xo far. The records are 28 fresh as first impres- ions, and they bring before us men and things a5 they wero, and not a3 after-historians’ sup~ posed them to be. The story which 1773 has left of itself is full of variety and of interest. ' It was 2 hundred years ago our ancestors were as glad to hear that Bruce had got eafely back into Tgypt from his attempt to reach the Nile eources, a3 we are to kmow that Liv- ingetone is alive and well and is. in search of those still undiscovered head-waters. Just A hundred’ years sgo, threo British ships, freighted with tea to bo taxed, entered Boston, Larbor, and were boarded by Mohawk Indians, One of the great sensations of the year in Eng- lith eociety was the duping of Charles Fox by the impostor who called herself the Hon. Alrs, Griove: She had been transported, and after her return had Xt up 58 “a sensible woman,” giving advice to fools, or a consideration.” A silly Quaker brought her e fore Justice Fielding for having defrauded him. He £3d paid ber money, for which ehe had undertaken to get bim 8 place under Government ; but she had kept Ihe money, znd had not procured for him the covcted plsce. Her impudent defence was that the Quaker's immorality stood in the way of otherwise cerfain suce cess. Tho homorablo lady's dupes belicvad in her, becauso they eaw the stylein which bho lived, and often beheld her descend from Ler chariot snd eiter tho houses of Ministers and other grent persomsges: but it camo out that she <nly =poke to the portors or to the servants, who entertained her idlo questions, for s gratuity, while Mrs, Grieve's carriage, and various dupes, waited for er in the stroct. When these dnpes, however, saw Charles Fox’s chariot at Mirs. Grieve's door, and that septleman himself entering the house—not ie-uing 1herelrom till a considerable period had elapsed—they were confirmed fn_their credulity. But the clever hussey was deluding the popular tribune in tho honse, and Xeeping his chariot at her door, to further dclude the idiots who were taken in by it. ' The patriot was in a rather common condition of patriots; he was over Lead and ears in debt. Thelady had underfaken to procure for him the hand of & West Indinn heircss, 8 Mius Phipps, with £60,000, & sum that might soften the Liearts of i ereditors for a while. The young lady (whom ¢ the Hon,” never saw) wis described as u littlo capricious, 5ho conld not abide dark men, and the exart Democratic leader powdered his eyebrows tlizt he might look fairer in the eves of tho lady of bis Bopes, An interview between them wae always on tho Joint of lisppening, but wus ahvays being deferred. ies Thippa was ill, was coy, was not i’ tho vein; final- 1y ehe had the emali-pos, which was 28 imaginary ce the olher grounds of excuse, Meauwhile Mrs. Gricve Jeut the impecunious legislctor money, .£300 OF thore- zbouts, Sho was well patd, not by Fox, 0f couree, but by the more vulgar dapes who came o false conclu- tions when they bebeld his urrhse‘ dsy cffer day, ot the Hon, Mre, Griove's door. The late Lord Holi:nd expressed his beiief {hat tlio loan from Mre. Gricvo was a foolish and improbablo story, “I Lave Leard Fox eay,” Lord Hollsnd remarks fn the *>emorisls snd Correspondencoof Fox,"edited by Lord John (now Earl) Russell, ““che mever got or asked any money from him.” ’She probably. knew very weil hat Fox Lad nonefolend. That he ehonld heve accepted any from such a woman is disgraceful enough; but thero imay bo exaggeration in the matter. Then the drama of 1773! Thero was Home's « Alonzo,” which, ssys Walpole, *seems to be the story of David and Goliab, worse told than it would have been if Sternhold and Hopkins lad put it to music!” But the town really awokeio a new sensation when Goldsmith's 4 She Stoops to Conquer” was producsd on Lhu stage, beginning a course in which it runs as freshly now aa cver : Yet the hyper-fine people of o hundred sears ago thought it rather vulgar. This was as sbsurd as the then existing prejudico in France, that ¥ was vulgar and 2ltogether wrong for a nobleman towrite & book, rather, to pubiish one] Therejs nothing more curi: Gus than Walpole's drawing-room criticisin of this ex- quiite and natural comeds. e calls it *tho lowest of farces.” Ho condemns the execution of tho subject, “very vulgar” subject it- rather than the €lf. He cowld see in it neither ‘moral nor edification. He allows that {Ls situations re well and make one laugh, in spite of the alleged groseness of ihe dialogue, the forced witticisms, and improbability of the whole plan and conduct. Bat, he adds, “what disgusts one most is, ihat though tho characters are very low, and aim at Tow humor, not one of them eays a sentence that is matural, or that marks any character atall. It in set up in oppoeition to sentimental comody, and is as bsd s the worst of them.” Yalpole's supercilious cen- Eure reminds oe of the company and of the dancing Eeax, alluded o in the scene over which Tony Lump- k:n presides ot the village ale-house. X loves to hear the Squire” (Lumpkin) “ sing,” says one fellow, “ be- Ease henever givea us anything that's low!” To ‘which expression of good taste, an equally nice fellow responds: Qb, damn anything that's fow! Icau’t 5 §arrick, who would hve nothing to do with cldsmith’s comedy except giving it & prologue, was “*in shadow” this year - S o LIOBU He improved “Hamlet” by lesving ot the grave- @iggers: sud he swammped the theatre with {he* Borie: mouth Review.” He went £0 far a8 to re-wiits - The Yair_Quaker of Deal” to the tuns of # Portamonth rnd Ring George For Ever1” not to mention 8 pireft 41 which the Exrl of Sandwich, by name, 18 pref ake, Blake, and all the Adirals that ever existed | ‘alpole’s criticisms are not always just, they are iopaily admirable for terceness and corroctness Inndon, in 178, Was in Taptures with singing of Cecilis Davies. Walpole quaintly thst he ' did not .love tho perfection anybody can' do. and ho withed *she Fud ai wha: had less top o her voice and moro bottom.” How g00d, {0, i3 his sketch of 5 male singer, who * spraius Lis mouth with smiling on himeelf % Lt to return to Garrick, snd an illostration of Eocial menners a ceu- {ury ago, wo muat not omit to mention that, at a pri- purty at Beauclerks Garrick played the * short- orstor * with Goldemith!” The latter eat in Garrick's lap, concealing him, but with Garrick's arms anced under Goldamith's'shoulders; the crms of fhie latter being held bebind his beck. Goldsmith then snoke a specch from ¢ Cato,” while Garrick's shortencd crms supplied the action, ‘Tho ecct, of couree, Was ridicnlons enough to excito lcughter, us the action was often in absurd diversity from tho uticrance. Let us look into the newspapors for Janoary, 1778, that our readers may compare the events of that month with the present Jauuary, ahun- dred years later: Wo find the laureate Whitehead's official New Year 0de rung ot court to Boyce's music, whils King, Queen, courtiers, und guests yawned ot the vocal duiness, and were glad when it was all over. Wo enter a church 2nd listen to a clergyman preaching & scrmon; on the following day we ¢o the reverend gentleman dril- ing with ofhier recruits belonging to a regiment of tho Guards into which he had eniisted, Tho vice of gam- bling wae ruining hundreds in London, the suburbs of which were infested by highwaymen,'who madea very pretty living of it—stokig only their lives, Wo go°to the then fashionable noonday walk in tho Templo Gardens, and encounter tn eccen- tric promenader, who is thus described : # Ho woro an old black wnisfcoat which was quito threadbare, breeches of the samo color and complexion; black etocking on 0no leg, a whitish one on the other’; alittle hat with a Jarge gold button and loop, and a tail, or, rather, club, a5 thick as o lu-iy man's arm, powdes almost an inch thick, and under the club a quantity of Lair, resembling a horse's toil. In this dress ho wallied 2nd mized with the company thero for o considerable time, and oceasfoned no little diversion.” The style of hesd-docoration the patronized by tho ladles was quitcas nosty and offensive as that which they adopt at the present time. It wos ridiculed in the popular tomime *Haclequin Sorcerer,’ Columbino was to ‘Soen In her dressine-room attended by her lovor, 8 ‘macaront, and a hairdresser. Jemes Greenwood, the Amatour Casual, To- veals, in : * THE GENEROUS MONEY LENDER,’ one of tho most injurious and heartless class of swindlers : Such, sccording to their own ehowing, are the amis- ‘ble men of money who advertiso their willingness to as- sist their fellow-mortals in distress, They areevenat the ‘pains to invent ingenious “ catch-lines to biead their advertisements, each ane trying to outvie his fellow- ‘philanthropists in this respect, in order that he may gather to himself the greater number of eubjects for the exsrcise cf Lis sovereign Lealing, Every morning, 21l the yesr round, do these charitabie ones cry_alou from the newspapers ; and thera aro 60 many of them allof a_row, that if each bad a sounding Yoice fn- stead of o typographed ove, there would ensto a din that thero wonld bo no Fuch thing ns paying proper ion to tho polico reports or the par- lsmentary dobafes, “ MONEY! MoNEY! MoONEY!” omo calls out in lofters so large and distinet that they seem almoet to chink liko sovereigns in tho pocket., % To all {n want of money, apply im- mediately at the Hounditeh Financial Discount Office. Tnterest, 5 per cent per annum. Psyable by instal ‘ments to suit the convenience of tho borrower.” And iho mext: “To the Embarraseed. If you wish to obtain a Iosn of from five to five bundred pounds, all that you have to do 4 to cut out this adveriisement und fend it to onr office, ststing sum required, otc., and four stamps for reply,” Why fonr stampa? Why He must indced bo » stupid person who ean not divine {ho reason st s glance, Does not the registration of a letter cost just fourpence? and would it be safe {o sond & money enclosure, especially to & strauger, with- out taking some precaution? Al that you bave to do 15 to tate the smount of momey you Tequle, < stc.” and you may Tely upon not gettinga crisp Little parcel of bank-notes by return post. Another kind of public benefactor who prociaims his disintercsted desiro to benefit his species, is a person ‘who, having money tolend, §s by no means disposed to ounded With professional financial Samari- tans, This person heads his advertisoment fn an ama- teurish, unbusineselike manner, that one would think would éxposo him to the machinations of those un- scrupulous ones who are perpotually running sbout eceling what in the shape of guilelessness they may devour s “A PRIVATE GENTLEMAY, with a few thousand st his command, is destrous of negotiating losna of small smounts,—say from five pounds to twenty-five, attention with persons of integrity who sre temporarily embar- | rassed, Tradesmen, clerks, and others must be pre- pared fo furnish credentiels as to their respectability, 25 the eystem of inquiry adopted by the principals of ordinary loan offices i5 dispensed with. Tho gentle- man has mo connection with professional money- Ienders, and makes the offer as s bona fide boon to the pablic; on & New and Jmproved Syetcin, whereby all Tespectable persons cin have fmmediaté cash accom- modation, The rateat present charged, snd until tho alteration 1s publicly announced will so is five per cent. tus {rec. No oflice fees. No pre- ‘charge of any Kind? . - Still, when Micawber applies for a loan, the Private Gentlemen —cannat have histime wasted completely * O, yes, e has no doubt that what {s desired may be done. He cannot eay off-hand, of course. Me must submit the proposition to his lawyer, without whoso advice he Dever acts, and his lawyer's feo is ten ehillings—ra mere trifio only, in fact ninepence in the pound, but it must ‘e paid in sdvance. Itisnot forthe Private Gentle- man’s bepefit. He ia prepared to act sirictly in accor- @ance with the terms of his advertiscmients, and to chargonot one farthing for, Lis personal expenses or for inquiry, but these legal men, my dear sir » And twice out of threo times the Would-be borrower, +wide awako and experienced a8 he 13, is taken off his guard by this eccentric and decidedly un-loan-office- like way of doing business, and parts with the ten shil- linge, and thero 1s an ena {o the tranmaction. FRASER'S. In Fraser's Mfagazine, Mr. Froude gives his readers o republication of his address, delivored in Asgocistion Hall, Now York, ip auswer to Father Burke, S S0ME CURIOSITIES OF CHITICISY, from Pepys' Diary, decipherod from his short band, and publithed ashe never dreamed it would be; from Boswell's Johnson, and other old English books,—startle us by iis freedom of comment and stricture on authors and works that are to-day held almost eacrod. Here are Pepys’ wanton criticisms on Shakepeare's playa: To was a great frequenter of tho theatres aud & crit- ical observer of dramatic and histrionic art, Well, on the 1t of March, 1661, Mr. Pepys saw *Komeo and Juliet,” “the first time it was ever acted "—in his time, T suppose—* but it isa play of iteclf the worst that ever I heard, and tho worst acted that ever T saw these people do,” # Sept, 29, 1662—To the Ring’s The- atre, where we saw ‘Midsummer Night's Dream,’ ‘which I hiad never seen before, mor shall ever again, for it Is tho most insipid, ridiculous play that ever I saw in my life” ¢Jan. 6, 1662-3—~To the Duke's House, and there saw Twelfth Night! octed vl thougl it be but a silly play, and not relating at oll 0 the name or dzy.” Demson. Pepys was certainly sensitive fo visiblo beauty, and also to music; to poutry notat all, Shaks- peare’s fame seems to have mede uo sort of impression on him, Frank, Wemust remember, however, that most if not all of these that Samuel s3w wera adaptations, not correct versionz., IHarkham, o had o somewhat betfer opinion of “acheth.” " Xov. §, 1664—To the Duke's House to seo JMacboth,’. n prefty good play, but admirably acted.” “Aug. 20, 1666—To Deptford by watcr, rend- ing * Othelio, Moor of Venico? [(Ls, doubtlese, Was fhe originall, which I ever heretoforo esteemed a mighty good vliy: buf, haviog £o lately read * Tie Adven. tures of Tive Houres it ecens A mean thing:” Tho bustling play which Pepss so much admired was translated or fimitated from Celderon by one Sir Gesrge Tuke, and is in the twelfth volume of Dodley’s “ Old Plays” _April 15, 1667, he eaw at the King's House “The Change of Crownes,’a play of Ned lioward's, the best that I over saw at that house, 'being & great lay and sorious.” * Aug. 15, ho was of the same {bea tre, and saw <+ The Merry Wives of Windror,” “xhich did not pleaso mo at all, in Do part of 16" “{The Taming of a Shrew’ hath eomo very jyood pleces in it, but is enerally & mesn play.” (April 8, 1667.) Latér (Nov. 1) he called it s silly play. Dryden thought Besumont and Fletcher su- perior to Shakspeare or Ben Jonson: " In hfs % Essay on Dramatfc Poetry,” he ssss that Beanmont and Fletcher # bad, with tlie advantzge of Shakepeare’s wit, which was their proeedent, great ‘Datural gifts, improved by study ; Beaumont, epecial- Iy, being so dccurate a_judge of plays that Ben Jon- 500, while o lived, subinitted all his writings to hin censure,” 1 am apt tobellove the English langusge in them arrived to its Dighest perfection.” “heir plota wero generally 'more regular tian s, thoso that wero made Defore Beaumont’s death ; and they understood and imitated the conversation of gentlemen mucli etter.” 4 Their plays are now the most plessant and frequent entertainments of the siage ; (w0 of theirs being acted tho year for one of Shakepearo's or Jonson's ; the rea- on 18, because there i3 a_certain gaicty in their como- dice, and pathos in their more terious plays, which Buite generally ‘with all men's humore. Shakspesre’s languago is lizewiso a little obsolcte, oud Ben Jome 50w Wit comea short of theira.” Many of Dr. Johnson's views of men and b?q{;‘a ve not beon sanctionod by the verdict 0 ime : The Doctor’s opinion of Milton's sonncts §9 prelty well known—those *zoul-animating strajns, atas ! toy few,” 85 Wordsworth estimsted them, Miss Hannah, Mora wondered. that Milton could write *such poor sonnets.” Johneon said, “3ilton, madam, was & genina that could cut & Colossun from o rock, but could not carve hesds upon cherry-stanes,” Tako another British classic, * Bwift having been ‘mentioned, Johnson, s usual, treated Lim with Littio respect as an author.” ¢ He attacked Swift, 15 be used to do upon all occaticns. I wondered to hear him say of ¢ Gulliver's Travels,' * Whea once you have thought of big ruen end Tittle mea, 1t Ia very Casy to do all the Gray wes also one of thogreat Doctor's sntipathies, ¢ He attacked Gray, calling bim * a dull fellow.” Sos well : T understand ke was geserved, and might u ‘pear dull in company, but surely he was not dull poetry 27 Johuson : * Sir, he was dull in company, Qull in his closet, dull everywLere. Hewas dull in & ney way, and thit made many people call him great.” Nortil Sterne fare much better. It having been observed that there was little hosplislity in London— Jobneon : “XNay, elr, any man who hass name, or Who has the power of plessing, will_be very generally invited in London. The maa Sterce, Tam told, has had engagements for thres montha” Goldsmiith: “Anda very dull follow.” Johnson: “Why, no, sir.” [1773.] “ Nothing oddl will lsst long. ¢ Triatram Shandy® aid not last.”_ She (Miss Monckton) insisted tunt some of Sterne’s writings were very pathetic. Johnson bluntly denfed it, = I am rure,” fxid she, “they have affected me.” “YWhy,” said on, ,20d_ rolling himasif sbout, *thst is, desrest, because yonars a dunce” b remarkablo : After_accusipg bim of “srcrificing all truth znd reality,” o goes on to soy: *Gibbon's stylo s de- teatable, but bis style {s not the worst thing about him. His bistory haa proved an effectual bar to all real familiarity with the temper and hobits of imperisl Tome, Few persons read the original suthoritios, cven thoso which are classical ; and certzinly no dis- tinct knowledge of tho actual etato of the Empiro can be obtained from Gibbon's rhetorical sketches, s takes uotice of nolhing but what moy prodice an effect; he ekips on from eminence to eminence, without ever taking between: in fact, elie but & disgu the splendid anccdotes which he could find in ony book concerning cuy persons from the Antonines to the cspture of Constantinople. When I read a chapter of Gibbon, I ecem to be looking throug o luminous haze or fog ; figures come and go, I know not how or why, all larger hsn life, or distorted or discolored ; notliing is real, virid, truo; all is scenical, and, sa i were, exhibitod by candlelight. ‘And then’to callita ¢History of the Decline snd Fall of tho Roman Ems pirel’ Was thero ever grestermisnomer? 1 protest I do not remember & singlo philosophical attempt made throughout the workato fathom the ultimate causes of tho decling and fall of that Emplre.” FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW. The Fortnightly Review hes a number of very ponderous arlicles, none of which are suscepti- ble of sbridgment or reproduction. Frederic Harrison has o disquisition, abstract and meta~ physical to & degrce even beyond his usual depth, in “ The Revival of Authority,” in which bo treats of the opposito Aristocratio and Democratie principles of government, John Btuart Mill reviews, in his finished aud scholarly manner, Grote’s Aristotle. There ere articles on ‘ Mr. Stephen's Intro- duction to the Indian Evidence Act,"—by Bir Henry 8. Maine; “Memorial Verses on Theophile Gautier,"—by A. 0. Swinburne; *Ib- son, tho Norwegian Batirist,"—by_E. W. Gosso; ¢ Forty Years of tho House of Lords,"—by F. Bowen-Graves; “The Eustace Diamonds,"— Chapters LXXIII. to LXXVL,—by Anthony Trollope; “The Five Gas-Stokors,"—by the Editor ; and “ Critical Notices,—* Middlemarch,’ and ‘ Love is Enough,’ "—Dy Siduey Colvin. In tho aritique of - ‘¢ 3UDDLEMARCH,” Mr. Calvin expresses the same opinion given in our columns, that Georgo Eliot's” work ropregents the feminine side of modern scientific thought. He ssya: For the general definition of her work, T ahould £sy, is precisely thua: that, among vriters of the imaginz- tion, she hns taken the lead in expressing and discuss— ing 'the lives and ways of common folks—otu timor, ira, voluptas~in terms of scientific thought an the positivo syntbesis, She has walked between two epochs, upon the confines of two worlds, and has de- scrived the old in terme of the mew. . . ., To the new worid belong {he elements of her reflection; tho many-sided culture which Iooks back npon prejudice with znalstical arusement ; tho philosophy which doclares the family deluded i1 its higher dreams, dependent upon itself, and bound thereby to a closer, if a #adder, brotherhood ; the habit of regarding aud’ meditating pbysical laws, and the facts of senseand life, which leads up to that phil osophy and belongs 10 It ; the mingled depth of bif nessand tenderness - in the human temper, of which the philosophy becowmes tie spring. Again: She Lias the perpetnal application of ker own intelli- gence to the broad problems and conclusions of mod- ern thought. Next: This writer posscsees, in her own sympathetfc insight info the workiugs of human nature, 3 psychelogical in- strument, which perpetually displsys ita power, sub- tlety, and trenchancy, Then : 3 The writer's studies in scienceand physiology will contantly come in to suggest, for the spiritusl pro- cesses of her personagus, an oxplanstion here, or an {llustration there, . BLACKWOOD. Blackwood's for January opens the Fourth Book of “The Parisians," a clover serial. One of the most remarkable events of our remarka- ble age is the sescmbling of the Protostants of Trance in Synod at Paris, which is discussed in “The Iesucs Raised by the Protestant Synod of France.” “A True Reformer” develops somo original idess about the orgxmizn.u'on of the army. Dr. John Talloch’s * Rational Theology and_ Christian Philosophy " ia roviewed under the title of ** Christian Philosophy in England.” “The Lost Secret of the Cocos Group" is a fascinating story of quest for trezsure. And lest wo havo & well-done burlesque, entitled #Bir Tray : An Arthurian Jdyl.” —_— THE PARTING. An! n that word, —that bitter word, —hows'er Wo promise, hope, believo, Lhoro broathos despate, 2 Siron. “Gone!” Like a knell of anguish thro’ my heart ‘That wOrd, whoso very accent * breathes despair,” Ringsout. Gone—and the sunlight and the joy Of life borne with thee from my path. Sindows, Where erst was sunlight, gather now ; nor voice Nor song of joy, the weary silence breaks, for life! We love, and fondly deem The ills of life are o%er, and, dreaming, weavs ‘A fairy fabric bright, whose golden woof Too sadly proves more beantiful than real. Partings will come ; and, whilo fond hearts cling Bo closely to each other, will be fraught With bitter anguish, Lips will paliid gro, ‘Tear-drops will fall, and heart-chords sadly quiver. in the pale moonlight, cold, I stood alono Where late we stood together. Silently The stars look down upon m while I weep. The night-wind steals across my lip and brow, As tho', by soft caressing, it would sootlie My sorrows; but the loving voice, whose tones Of melody afone can cheer my b onger whispers words of hiope und cheer. No warm hand claeps mine own, nor cizcling arm Supports my trembling form ; and wearily 1 turn away in eadnese, with {ho wail Of loneliness and orraw ringing through The lately-sunlit chambers of my heart. 1 eeek the rootn, now cold and desolate, Where erat the hours so flectly pacsed away ; Butah ! the charm is broken o tho hearth, The dying embers and dead ashes lie, Too eadly emblematic of the fate Of earthly hopes and tressures. ' ere the books W lately rend together ; but the words, A Thet from thy lips scemed cld in Light and love, Seem cold and meaningless, The vacant chair Standa by the cheerless hearthstone ; but the form 8o fondly cherished, lingors there no more. 1 it me down in sadness, while I rest 31y throbbing head upon that vacant seat, And, while the tear-drops, fall of angulsh, flow, My weary heart pours forth an carpest preyer, Dearest ind best beloved, for thy dear sake: Renzcca Rurer Seowvarn. SELECTIONS. BY DUFF PORTER. He who sins against man may fear discovery, but he who eing sgainst God is sure of it. —A precept of the Hindoo law says, * Strike not, even with a blossom, a wife, thongh she be guilty of a hundred fenlts.” —The Beautifal is bighor than the Good, for the Beautifal includes the Good within itasa part. —Those who bave resources within them- gelves, and can dare to live alone, want friends Jeast, but know how to prize them most. —If we would tind {lie crown that lies beneath any croes, it must_bo shouldored and_bravely carried, not shirked for half the timo, and dragged the other half. ~—The aweat of the human brow, wherever it falls, dissolves the bars by which Naiure holds her treasures from human hands. —Man blinded by bis passions troads upon the borders of an ebyss, but Le wonld not lead his child there. 5 —All actual miracles aro flowers which con- ceal their roots under the surface of the earth, and burst forthin deep connection. with the eternal laws of Naturo. —Savo a lost man his memory ; he will nced 10 punishment beside. —There are words that concentrate in them- eclves the glory of a lifetime, bt there is & &i- lenco that is more precious than they. —Thera is nothing that so refincs face and mien a3 the preeence of grest thoughts. —A Little tumrilkstion may engender only s lit- tle deceit, but what will be dono when there is 8. great temptation ? —There i8 no sin that we can be tempted to commit, but we shall find s greater eatiafaction in resisting than in committing. —Purity shouldbo'felt to bo as_neceesary to tho mind 28 health to the body. and its absence aliko the inovitable source of pain. —No great man has arisen in aday, but slowly, h:f op{opurnon to exertions and well-directed effort. —Some men mourn that they have made and broken 80 many resolutions. ft is sad that you 'l:a\va broken them, but thank God that you made em. —There i8 no Chancs in the universe, and, when we gay thers is, we can truly mean only that we are ignorantof the relation of cause and effect. —We know not how many humble eouls are born into purer life by the keener consuming Tepentance which follows their transgression. —VWe sympathize with men, not according to the measure of their suffering, but according to the measure of their danger. —God will not let any apparent ovil come into our lives from which we cannat wring some good ~to ourselves or others. A —2Man reverences .less than woman, therefore degenerates when she does not influencs his thoughts and emotions. @ flowers of Heavan. dreams often pass strange summer-perfume, the traces of their vanishing. —Genius may imitnte, and, oven in imitating, show its divinity; but it goes alome into the Ligher realms of art. —The poorest and most desolato mother feels thet her little children are poorer and more des- |- olate than sho is, and, however much her broken spirit may long for tho rest of Paradise, she is beld back by the thought that to abide in the flosh is needful to them. , Ail AMERICAN QUEEN. MMrs. Earrison Gray Otis, of Boston. Doston Corresponcence of the New York Vorld, _Yor years Mrs, Otis kopt her leadership of so- ciety, and but foran onforced economy would have been princely in her ontertainments. Her Saturday receptions wero always crowded in the morning hours by ladies who found an hour with & brilliant woman a&ual to a month of platitudes at other houses, and in the evening, after & de- lightful little dinnor that never numbered more than four or six, the sterner clement of society gathered to bo amused and entertained by tho 'usle“dcufled during tho day. Fow women ave such power bring cultivatod minds or the moro butterflies of society around her 03 }rs, Otis, and it is only within a vory fow yoars that the youthful beaus and belles have not formed a large portion of hor circle. Ior Lindnoss to all young girla was, proverbial, and &t one time it was considered o' feather in a de- butante's cap to bo chaperoned by Mrs. Otis at her first assombly or the great bells given at Papauti's. Bat it waa her fiund recoptions on Washiogton's birthday that have mado hor most widely Itnown to tho prosent generation, It was owing greatlyto her offorts that we had tho “gwenty-socond " as a holidey, and probably no ladyin Boston would have over dreamod of open- ing hor honse to “ everybody" with the lcast claim to an nvitation ; but Mrs. Otis was not afraid of knowing snybody; not afraid of Daving her house injured ; not afraid of tho fatigne; in other words, ehe was public- spirited to ‘o fault, and beliesed in kesping up her roputation for hospitality and Ter local power. Except whon in mourning, tho “twenty-second” was her fefe 83 much a it had evor been Washington’s. " By 12 o'clock in tha morning her house was crowded. The stairs and entrance to the rooms were draped with the stars and stripos and snperb floral decorations that her frionds never forgot to send, and the entiro place was bright with beautiful women and gallant men. Mrs. Otis, richly dressed in & fashion peculiar to herself, alvays atood by the door and cordially welcomed tie very least of her guests, making her houso from garrot to cel- lar freo to all, ssying in her ringing voico, **Go where_you liko on this day.” And the crowd needed no further urging, for it generally oozed on to the roof and penetrated even to the kitchen. Even the servants' rooms were open to inspection, and lele-a-fefes were held in the ‘“gtore-room,” and polished attic floors echood to impromptu waltzing. Gay girls and sober matrons here climbed tho steps leading to tho roof to stick their beads out of the window oyer- looking one of the finest views of Boston and its eurrounding towns. One of the famous matches in society was mede, it is said, st this very win- dow on the leads of Mrs, Otis' houso during o ' twenty-second” mfimuu, and many sly flirtations have culminated in the cozy corners of that little mansion. Compliments on the ex- quisite neatness and perfect order of the house always gratified Ars. Otis, and it was ber custom to tako a favored guest to the kitchen to gee the old-fashioned open fire-place, where grest logs of wood were burning, and present him or her to tho autocratic divinity prosiding. “ A friend of twenty-odd years,” she would say, “*and one who belieyes with me that the modern range is an invention of Lucifer, and an encmy to gas- tronomic art.” Many were the tokensof en old- world hospitality that forced themselves on the stranger and showed hosw closely allicd was the past with a generous bolief in tho present, A ‘moro thorough consorvative never breathed, snd yet progress, entorprise, growth—mental or. moral—received warm encouragement at her bands. In this little homoe Mrs. Otis welcomed ber own familiar friends and extended a frank courtesy to strangers—whoaver came to Boston worthy of notice was carried thero to bo preaont* ed—and all tlis was done with a graceful sim- elicily and cordiality never to bo forgotten. With' theso many calls upon hor time, sho devoted hours to readiug and correspondence, and never refrained from using ber wide infli- ence to help those who might not help thom- selves. Beinga woman of strong head, her opinions_wero constantly consulted, and not often did_that opinion, once formed, slter. As strong in ber prejudicies as in ber life-long {riendships, sho gained a remarkablo influenco that never diminished with yeara and only death could oblitorato, During tho war Mrs. Otis was lmtu'mg in bor devotion to the goldiers’ cause, and endoared berself still more to Boston by hor unselfish patriotism. Winter and sum- mor, dsy in and day ont, shewas atthe sani- tary rooms in Tremont street, overzceing ar- ticies to be sont to tho Massachu- satts . rogimonts, or Teceiving contribu- tions of money and luxuries for the sick or wounded, and during all that time bher house was closed to company—excepting_on Washing- ton's birthday—from principle. Of all the flat- tering testimonials sho was constantly receiving from friends and strangers—often people who only knew her from reputation—none gave her greater gratification than the messagos and Jet- tors she has hed from soldiers since tho war. Their interests wore hers, and many a privato owed his _straps to Birs. OLis’ imely apprecia~ tion, a8 sho never forgot any one ehe had once seen, 60 she nover failed to say the right word at the right moment. She was s quick-witted woman, with a vein of sarcasm and Keen insight into human nature, that her hnsband's family found sometimes oppressive. She wes (0o in- dopendent, tao generous for that narrow-minded Bostonian, her father-in-law, so when bhe died he left her a® silver wine-cooler as the only addition to her small fortune, and £20,000 to his grandson and namesale. If he married, he for- feited his $20,000. Thoroughly indignant with the unjust old gentleman for his meanness, Alrs. Otis had engraved on the wine-cooler *To him that hath shall bo given; to him_ that Lath not ghzll be taken awsy,” and sent it down to the Tremont House with her compliments. This spicy procceding soon rang through the town and gave mortal offence to the Otises. But when sho said not only ehould her son when ho . plonsed, but have his monoy, 00, public opinion ranged on her sido and_loud applause escaped from virtuons Beacon Hill. Aftor this thore was war declared sgainst her by the Otis family, to which sho good-naturedly agreed, and I think the breach was never healod. . Her only son did marry, and law gaye him his inheritance all the same. ZLast summor Mrs. Otis again inherited a for- tane, and this time it was worth having. Cramp- ed financially as sho had been for so many years, her friends rejoiced that at length she woull have it in her powerto be at ease herself and Tollow out tho many kind wishes of her heart. But it was not to be. Suddenly perfect health gave way, and & shock of paralysis, from which sho never wholly recovered, was succoeded by a second the doy aficr the fire. The horror and excitement of that dreadful night nearly broke her heart, and it certainly struck her death-blow. * * * Nowomanof ber time has exercised o more remarksble influenco or been moro truly respected, and it will be a long dag, if ever, be- foro Boston finds a *‘ queen” to reign es royally. Mrs Otis leaves over a million of property, all of twhicly with tho oxception of ecveral thou- sands given to her exccutors and minor chari- ties, goes in truse ta her son. Her picture of Shakspeard has been bequeathed to the fusure Art Museum, and, s it i doubtless au original, Will prove o priceless addition to the already large collection. A few months ago Mrs, Otis - was requested by a book company in New York to allow thom to publieh & more extended sketch of her life than can be found in the *Quecns of American Society,” but she wisely refused, after ‘mature deliberation, feeling that such *lives” are rarely truthful or relisble, but meaning, had not illnees overtaken her, to give proper mate- rial for a memoir to judicious and literary friends. 3 —_— Love, Jealousy, and Polson. LowxL, Mass,, Feb, 1. A caso of love, jealousy, and poisoning hes ‘been brought to light i this city. A girl who bad been diecharged from the dollar store in Merrimack streei, subsequently visited the store upon several occasions and left eake and con- fectioners for her former companions. Tho top of ons of the cocoa nut cakes was removed, & powder was diccovered, and & portion of the cake was carried to a chemist and found to con- tain 15 grains of arsenic. Twoof tho lady clorks have been very sick. . The case is kept secret, the guilty party asking and receiving forgive- ness. The act is attributable to the circum- stance of 8 gentlemen’s attentions who was in the habit of visiting the store being transferred from the would-be poisoner to another lady in the store. The police have this noon taken tho case into investigation. * —_— —A merchant's daughtor, al Columbus, 0., kicked off a young man’s hat the other day be- cause he eat down in her perlor with that article of wearing gear mpon She used her foot instead of her hand, because che happened to be carrying an armfalof books, and was too indignant to postpone punishment. How the Hinkles Settled Their Matrimoni. al Difilcuities, “X can’t stand it, and, what's more, I won't,” £aid littls Mre. Hinklo, clutching tho bars of her uncomfortablo old cago of 8 rocking-chair. Mr. Hinkle placidly bung up bis almansc, and weut out to sow tho early peas, Ha conld £tand almost anything, and yet remain as serene asa cabbage-licad—which, indeed, his wife often szid Lo resembled. Laviny's tantrame troubled him about as much 88 a muskefo’s buzzing wonld trouble au elophant; but he thought they were kind of wearing to her, and that €he * came to quicker " alone, So b left her swinging hezself ecasick in tho rockor, and shufiled off to the gar- den with o hoo and & pint dinper of peas. At the gate he met Miss Niddlins. “ And how's your poor wife?” said she, snif- fling. She suffered with a chronic cold in tho head, which gave her an oxtremely sympathotic manor. “Ablo ‘to be_stirring,” replied Mr. Hinklo, shinfiling onin his brown loather moccasing., Even n cobbage-head may be, as it usually is, ruffled insido, and doep in his slow-beating heart Hr. Hinklo was annoyed ot the sight of Miss Nidd- lins and tho ombroidered bed-ticking bag which betokened a weeld’s visit. “ Laviny's putchiky enough without being set on,” aid he, losning on his hoe in the favorito attitude adopted by scarc-crows. ¢Yes, I really Link slia is,” he went on, weighing the proposi- tion doliberately. * Not thatImind her being spry-tempered, and spitting out at me. It's onl a way she has, and comes of ber enjoying such heelth. Bho'll cool down; butthatold maid Lain't any call to rile her ;" and here Mr. Hinkle gave the hoe-hendloa resentful poke, as if it per- sonated the spinster aforesaid. Like many men not gifted in public spoaking, he was much given to taiking aloud when alone. In-doors, his wife claimed exclusive right of speech. “And hero I'vo stuck, like o dsb of putty, from the day I marriod with Rouben,” she was saying to Miss Niddlins. * * I've had to walk on eggs, or his folks would bo in my hair, They've had their remarks fo make abont all my doings, and, you may depend upon it, it grinds.” rs, Hinkle must have been ground very uhl.rg indeod, judging by her cutting tongue. 4 Poor thing ! groaned Miss Niddlins, using ‘her handkerchief just then becansa it would pro- duce the effect of pity. “ Seo how I was put upon this morning by his sister Phebe,” said Mrs. Hinkle, moving the end of her nose rapidly back and forth with her forofinger, asif sho wero &:Inying on & Jew's- . “That woman bad the iwpudence to twit me of neglecting Reuben, because I leave him o got bis own supper soing-circlenights “Don't tell me go!"” eniffed Miss Ni “Did Mr. Hinkle complain to her?™ “Catch him complaining !" cried Mra. Hinklo ; “he basn't got spunk enough. Why, he's no ‘more grit than s hay-stack, and he's as sot. I couldn’t make him "broak with his folks if I was tosuffer. Wish I was single; then I wouldn't be nosed round by 'em. Now here you are, frea t0 go when you please !’ Miss Niddling sighed an afirmative. It was her peculiar trial that her relatives never op- posed her going. “1f you was to soparate, I suppose you'vo got enongh to-live on,” suggested she, cautiously. Mrs. Hinkle's rocker jerked itsolf into & fall stop. She had often eaid that *‘ Reaben must choose betwixt his folke and her,” that ‘‘she would take herself off,” and the like; but to Lm\'e a third person hint at a separation startled or. “‘Woll—yes,” s2id sho, Lesitatingly. “T've got the property I brought with me when I was married. I won't deny but what Reubon has done the fair thing there; but then, if ho'd been some men, he might have doubled it by this time. The long and short of it is, ho's half asleep. Ihavo to keep stirring him up, and, after all, ho don't appreciato mel” “7 bolieve it would wake him pretty thoroughly if you should leavo him,” roturned Migs Niddlins, ~ “He'd begin to realize whatsa smart wife ho'd lost.” . -¢‘He'd clutter the kitchen with his greasy harnesses, and camp down on the lounge in his boots—that's what he'd do—the minute I was off ! " snapped Mrs. Hinkle. 5 ‘He couldn’t manage without you, to save his lifo,” declered Miss Niddlins, confidently. “ Fo'd go down on his knces to you to get you back.” Mrs. Hinkle seemed flattered by the idea. “CA pretty firure ho'd cut,” lsughed slo, “ fat sshois, and looking, you ‘might say, as if he'd been blown up in Lis clothes! " “I'm sure I don’t sce how you can smile, Bit- uated a8 you are,” said Miss Niddlins, ehowing symptoms of freeh cold. +His folks have tricd my soul out of me,” cried Mre, Hinkle, hastily resuming her wrath, ¢ and what's maddened the most has been to see Reuben teke it 80 cool. That man haso’t any more nerve than a tub of, lard ! I wonldn't valuo ing off the meeting-honse stoeple if T thought it would give bim a statt.” * Poor woman ! " gaid Mies Niddlins, display- ing the red gilk handkerchiel which might prop- exfy be called her badge of mourning. * It's our duty to yourself to go where you can take Bome peace of your life! 1 dou't feel clear,” eaid Mrs, Hinkle, as she settled tho coffes for dinner, and thns ended their first conference. % But as Miss Niddlina spent the woek, justify- ing Mr. Hinklo's apprehonsions, sho and Alrs. Hinkle had ample opportunities for renewin the discussion of the latters %{:flnnu, tll, from not fecling *clear,” Mra. Hinkle, by the time her guest departed, ¢ame to feel, s sho ox- ressed it, **all in 3 muddlo.” Even her ox-eyed usband noticed somothing amiss with her. 1 wonder whether or no eago tes wouldn't be kind of quicting to Loviny,” bo reflected one morning 88 he Jopged along to the yillago after turnip sced. ‘I hain't seen her so fractious since sho had the neurology in her face. If she wasp'ta poor sick crestur I don't kmow but I should get put ont with her—I roally don't;” and Mr. Hinkle lowered his voice toan awe-strucic whisper 88 he gave utterance to this treasonous thought. . “}iin folks” lived in s sick-hcadache-colored houso at the Four Corners, and bis sister Phebo Was hanging ont clothes in the back-yard as he drovo up. = = Got any sage to spare?” cried Mr. Hinkle, whosing Dobbin. 3 “Mercy on us! is Laviny going fo make cheese in mud-time ?” was Miss Phebo’s an- swer. “'Tign't none of her doings,” said Mr, Hinkle, elowly, punishing the wheel with: his whip-lash ; “but she's in & terrible nervous way, and think ‘maybe she needs something soothing. What's good for her nerves?” . “Idon’t know, without it's a sound scolding,” roplied Miss Phebe,” with her mouth full of clothies-pins. E ) “Now, sister, you'ro bard on Laviny,” eaid Mr. Hinkle, in an injured tone. ‘‘She ain't tough, like what you bo.” 5 *Her temper i3 tough enough; but I'm suited if you are, poor soul!” and MMiss Phebe hunted for both sage and valerian, though inwardly persuaded that_all the poppies in the world coul(}n't soothe Laviny when she once got * set out.” Meanwhile Mrs. Hinkle had been doing a furi- ous forencon's work, and, ready to drop from exhsustion, was just hanging up the mop after ecrubbing the kitchen floor, when dear bfunder- ing old Roeuben ecuffled acrozs the threshold with his torn paper bags, ecattering dried leaves like an automn wind, and leaving muddy moccasin tracks at overy step, Before those clumsay foot~ rints Mrs. Hinkle's feeble forbearance fled. 0 herbs her husband had trusted m‘x:‘[rvm prove & narcotic acted upon her as a. powerful irntant. “Reouben Hinkle!"™ said she, bracing her aching back against the pump, * how much longer do you think I'm going to wash floora for you to Litter 2" “There, thers ! now don't fret,” pleaded Reu- ben; “I'll sweep it up. You do putier round moro'n youre able, that's a fact. You know T'm ready and willing to hiro s girl any day.” “A girl emouching my paint!” eried Mrs, Hinkle, in wrath. *Put down the broom, Rouben ; you've mada tracks enough. Your folks shall never bavo that handle, that I spend ‘Four money on hired help.” d “You're rather hard on ’em, Laviny,” said Mr. Hinkle ; they mean well by you. Here's Phobe now been and sent yousomothing stilling. llnto}d her what 8 fizz your nerves had been in oly.” “ Svo you've been rnuning me down to {m folks I" cried Mra. Hinkle, glaring at her hus- bond. “ After all I've atood from you, Reuben, it’s too much.” . B Mr. Hinkle was a mild man—mild as milk ; but even the sweetest of milk will sometimes turn sour in a thunder-storm, and oft-recurring E&tflmonid tempests had had their effect upon im; “T've always made ercuses for yom, Laviny, and tried my best to live pesceable,”’ said he, slowly; *‘butI believe ’tain't in the power of mortal man to got along with you.” Then, in » state of great amazement at him- self, ho went out to untackle Dobbin and sow the turnip seed. Listening in vain for the din- ner horn, he returned to the house half an hour past noon to find the fire oat, his unlucky mud- prints dried upon the floor, and his wife abe “Gomaoffin a huff to her sitter Trivp's, remnant of beans. ‘‘T'd have hitched up it I' have knowed she wanted to go. She wouldn't epeak to me, I s'poso, ’cause I'd riled her. hado’t oughter done it—that's a fact.” ‘Haring relioved his mind by this lest confes- elon, Mr. Hinklo ate his dinner with an excollent appetite, and in duo timo hia supper also, his “wife not having appeared. 1 expect she calcnlates for me to go for her, and I'd better bo off,” said he, as he strained the milk with extreme care and dsliberation, and by this moans lot a slow stream trickle down the outside of the Pnil apon the spotless pantry floor. *Why, if thers sin't Ezra Tripp now!" and 88 he spoke in st the west door came his wife's brother-in-law, with unwilling feet, as though goaded on vy the spears of tho setting san behind Lim. 3 - “ Laviny ain't sick, T hope ?" said Mr. Hinkle, anxiously. ! £ N # No, ‘tien’t that,” replied Mr. Tripp, twisting his foréfingor under his collar, a3 if his cravat choked him—‘"tisn’t that—but—" h “Bhe's gotting most out of patienco waiting for mo, I suppose,” snggested the unsuspecting Reubon. Woll, T'd oughter gone afore, only the off ox broke through tho ‘ence, and—' ¢ Luviny aays she won't come back,” inter- rapted Mr. Tripp, desperately ; for she's lived with you 23 long 29 sbe can stand it 1" i dillfr' Hinkle flopped down like o starchless cly. s “I might have knowed she couldn’t bear what I do,” groaned he. ‘¢ This morning, when she was blowing of me, I spoko Liv'sh to'her; T don't soe how I cometo. But, Ezra,you don't think, now, sho won't never como round?” Mr. Tripp mutiered something abont his sister-in-law being “pretty resolute,” =nd turned away. “1 wish you'd garry over Laviny’s_cough medicine,” gaid Alr. Hinkle, rousing himself. “Lord! fo think of her hacking in the night, and me not hearing her! And, fzra, I'd take it kindly of you if ou'd step in in the morning, and tell me how she rested.” Mr.” Tripp consigned the bottle to hiscoat Xet, while Honben, roturning to the deserted itchen, which alresdy woro & mascaline sir, tilted Lis chair egainst the wall, and listenod to the dirges of the frogs, or gzve expression to his feclinga by singing, e “4A on somo lonely buifding’s top, ‘The sparrow tells her moan, Far from the tents of joy aud hope 1 sit and grieve alone.” A dreadfn! poor hand I should be tosit alono,” commented ho, a8 o shuffled abont to fasten the windows. Laviny is s master- avomsn for making things lively. Somehow I can't bear to lock her out;” anditis s fact worthy of note that the faithful Reuben, for the first time in his married life, went to bed leaving the porch door anbolted. e 1f he had cherished a vaguo hope that his wife ‘might steal home in the enrly morning, he cor- tainly saw no traces of her ruiing prescnce on rising. Instesd, the abominationof desolation reigned. 3 Seoms as if T was just a frame-vork, with nothing ineide,” eaid the poor man, ‘moving abont the chsotic kitchen in & hushed manner, like & person ot o funeral; “ the pith is all kuocked out of me.” . But notwithstanding ‘this alarming internal condition, by dint of burning three fingers he aucceeded in making & lumpy basty-pudding for breakfast, and also & cup of-coffee, which, by reason of the large amountof fish-skin that set- tled it, bore an unpleasant resemblance to chow- der. As ho was sitting at this frugal repast his sister Phebe flounced in. “ Hya Laviny left yon, Reubon? It can't be.” Mr. Hinkle nodded his head solemnly, his mouth b;ing not available just then as an organ of spoech. “The worst is her own,” stormed Miss Phebe, raining s shower of bair-pins from her falling chignon. I guess we shan’t die on hor ac- count!” This reflection seemed to-convey no consolz- tion to Mr. Hinkla. 3 ¢ You never felt right toward Laviny," said he, sarrowfully. * I don’t lay this up agin her, her cloaring out ; I blame it on to Miss Niddline, She always hed & dreadful faculty for onseitling Laviny.” Misg Phebe bad a contemptuous nose, turned upward at the end like & eled runuer. Jt carled higher at this remark. o * T wigh you Lad some of my spirit, Roubon Hindle,” 5id eho, coiling her back bair"with & Tapid circnlar motion, 88 if she were winding berself up; “if you had you wouldn't go nigh Laviny for one while, She's contrary, and depond upon it she'll be a great deal more apt to come back. if you don't teaso her., I'll keep honse for yon, £0 don't you be a mito con- cerned.” - Mr. Hinkle grosned in answer. Ascoughis withont yenat, ®o was he without Laviny. * He necded her to keep him up,” ho snid, patheti- cally, and though tortures would not have wrung from her the confession, it was equally true that Laviny nceded him to keep her @own. Some leaven is safest hidden in its three measures of meal. Certainly, in her husband’s presence, Mrs, Hinkle had been a patient Griselda compared to what she now was, freed from home restraints. She frotted and fumed in an explosive manner, rising in unwonted fermentation in the Tripp household. 8he hated his folks, she hated Rou- ben for not hating them, sho hated herself for having borne their interferenco 8o long, and de- clared she had not had * the temper of & fiy "— which, indeed, was quite true. But as the week ‘wore on without bnngi.\txg the coveted vision of her husband at her feet, the efferveacence of her mood” was fast subsiding, when the rumor that Miss Phebe was wielding her domestic scopire agitated it anew. Pretty work it was, to be erowded out of her own home by his folks! She knew now why Reuben did not como. They bad boen setting him against her. What if he ehould never come? s For the first time this thought intruded itself, and in her anguish she sought relief in the camphor bottle. What right had Phebe in her kitchen solacing Reuben with delectable cookery, when he should have been bungoring in solitude after his wife? She de- clared euch conduct would provoko-a saint, though she did not give her authority for this conviction. Ono thing was sure, Phebe should not havo tho washing of Ler fea-spoons, and withont delay Mrs. Hinkle sent a.juvenile Tripp to remove these and other personal valuables, choosing_the dinner hour for the errand, that the scenic effect might be greater. When Mr. Hinkle was forced to stir his tea with fork, per- haps he would be in more haste to conciliate Dis wife! The plan was well Inid; but it failed in the execution through the tardiness of little Joe, who, having a woodchuck to attend to on the way, did not reach his uncle's till the re- mains of the dinner lay cold on the pantry-shelf, and Mr. Hinklo was half & mile away at his af- ternoon Slowing. = Miss Phobe sent the spoons obediontly, in- wardly resolved that Reuben should not know of this proof of *‘ Laviny's ugliness,” for she was woll ‘awaro_that only her own repeated assur- ances that Laviny would softén toward him if left to herself, had kept him passive thus far, “Seem's if I wasn't doing the handsome thing not to go nigh ker,” he often gaid. “I wonder ,;.‘\'he‘lhet or no she 2in't counting on my fetching er 7 #If she comes of her free will she'll be likely to stay put,” Miss Phebo would answer; * but try to drive her, snd you know what Laviny is.” Mr. Hinkle did know, unfortunately, “and, knowing, schooled himself to patieat waiting. Thus the days wore on, and he plodded through the spring work, cheered a little in spite of himself by Miss Phobe's earnest efforts at making himcomfortable, while Laviny, mortified and then alarmed by his non-appearance, worried hersclf into & course of exasperating sick-head- aches, and in every senso shut out the sunlight from the houso of the Tripps. Iu the midst of g;lnb-acmhhing AMre. Tripp found no leisure to wote to her complaining sister, but left one of her children to wait npon her. Mrs, Hinkle felt sbused. When had Reuben been too busy to Dathe her aching temples? Little Joe made her. nervous a8 & witch, and one day ebe told him so, and a moment after had the satisfaction of hear- ing him say to his mother in the kitchen that he “conldn’t get along with Aunt Laviny nohow.” Why, that was just what Reuben had said— Reuben, who had never spoken hastily to her in his lifo! Was sho an uncomfortable person_to live with? F ‘“’"Tain’t in the power of mortal man to get along with you, Laviny.” The words cameback - to her with 'the etartling force of a proof-text, and haunted her afterward continually. _ It must have been in rhubarb time, for dande- lion greens had gone by, when, ono morming, little Joe rushed in with the terrible tidings that “Uncle Reuben had fallen ker-chunk from a be‘.nh‘!m %fl bl‘lmf'; tho b: from h " Mra. Hinkle tore tho handages from herhead and started up. ‘*‘Where’s my bonnet, Susan? I'm going home! " 5 *“ Maybe he isn't badly injured. Wait till we hear further,” urged Mrs. Tripp. “T tell you I'm going home, Susan Tripp ! Where's my bonnet ¢ and snatching it by the string, Mrs. Hinklo sprang into the wagon just vacated by her nepbew, and drove away at a doo- tor’s pace. Little Joe turned s scries of somersaults, and then lay writhing on the grass in o fit 0 nfcon- trollable giggling. idn't Aunt Laviny streak it ?” ehonted he. “ And Uncle Reuben wasn't hurt s mite, but she wonldn't let mo tell her ! Toe-hee-heo 1 Yet, thou&l: 10 bones were broken by the fall, it is a fact that 2Mr. Hinkle found his two hun- and ho was actually, according to his wife's pra- diction, *‘camoing down on the lounge in hig boots,” when, opening his eyes, they rested on her frightened facn in the doorway. “Why, bless your heart! come rightin, La- \.;iny," eaid he. ~ And sho went in, end shut the oor. Fivo minutes afterward, as Miss Phebe lifted the latch, she hoard her sister-in-law say: 1 Imdw I Lave hectored you awfally, Ren- ben, but I domean to live pesceable now, and put up with your folks.” : And Reuben answered heartily: “I haven's blamed you a bit, Laviny. 1knowed 'twns Miss Niddlins’ work. But after we'd lived together &0 long, she might Rava let usbe till God di- vorced ns."—Iarper's Bazar. —_——— VR, THINKING OF HOME. - I'm thinking of Home as the shadows fall, In this twilight-hour, on my chamber-wall; But the plaintive wall of the evening wind Bears no tones from the loved ones left behind.” T'm thinking of Home, and my soul is ssd ; Btrangs scones have no power to make me glad ; It matters not where o'er Earth I may roam ; Whero loved ones are is the Heart's anly Liome. T'm thinking of Home, sud tears wiil como A3 T think of life 'mid the scenes of Home 3 No splendor surrounds it ; poor though it be, 1t’s the dearest spot on ths wide Exrth to me, I'm thinking of Homa; ah, sleep-shadows fall On this twillght drapery btieg on my wall 3 And while, *mid the eplendors of dreamiand, I rove, Tl long for tha dear-oncs at Home that I love. A Ha'mos HUIIOR. Maxa over-hored—aAn editor. —A good side-show—A pretty chesk. A sealed proposal—The engagement kirs, —Order of the Bath—Hot and cold. —The g ladios of Now Haven never say, 4 As thick as lenves in Vallambrosa;” they think it sounds affected, and accordingly substitute, # &3 thick as photographe of Yale students.” —Ono of tho prottiost compliments we hava heard of lately, was that peid by a gentlemsn the other ovening, who objected to playing carda with a Iady, bacause, he said, she had such win- ning wags about her. —Bydney Smith once commenced a charity ser- mon by ssying: “Benovolence is o sentiment common to human nature. A never sccs B in distress without asking C to relieve him.” —A druggist is much troubled with little bors running in and asking the time of dsy. In an. Bwer to one yesterday, he answered: “ Why, 1 told you too timo but & moment 2go.” *Yos, Bir,” said the boy ; ‘“‘but that was for snothar woman.’” —Profeesional Etiquette.—Anxious Parenf— « Come, Doctor, don’t wait, butcome in and ses her. Sbe is veryill indecd.” Corsulting Phy« sician—* Must wait for your family physicien, Could not presume to interfore till he ar- . _The patient must have patience. Humph!" said an Englishman to aScotch- ‘man, 28 they wore walking over the fields, *‘ oats are all very well in their way ; but in England we feed them™ to our horses, while hera they are food for men.” *' Ayya; eaid the Scol : an' just sce what fino horses there are in Enfi- land, and what fine men we have in Scotland !' —Theman who returned his neighbor's bor- rowed nmbrella was ecen, a dsy or two l%f, walking in company with 'the young lady who ngsed o looking-glass without™ taking s Deep. t is believed they are éngaged. ¥ —= May I leave a fewtracts 7” nsked & mission. of & lady who responded to his Lnock. ?‘Xiune soma tracks? Certainly you may,” said she, looking at bim most benigaly over her specs, “leavo them with the heel toward the house, if you please.” s —Throwing the handkerchiof. Bob (in thecourse of conversation)—** Woman's mission !’ Pooh{ Woman's mission s to be beautiful. If aver 1 mect a woman with lots of tin, who is fanltless- ly beautifal, I shall marry her straight off.” His Admiring Friend—* T suppose you'll just gsk her firat, won't you, Bob?” X —Aliftle boy the other day was put into long trowsers for the firat time. Some ono esked him why bo had changed. * Well,” he roplied, * the boys made fun of me, snd I wasn's going ta wear my pants at half-mast any longer.” —A Kentucky farmer refused to look ot a sam- plo sowing-machine, recontly, a3 he alwass “ sewed wheat by haud.” He i8 related to the man who did not want s threshing-machine on his farm; *for,” eaid ho, ** givo me a Larness tag. or a burrel stave, and I can mnke my family toa the mark according to law and scripter.” —* Bmall Mercies."—~Youtg Larksper—*Hul- 1o, Grummes, how are you? What's the 'mat- ter? I hear you've had a “]cgwy left you? iy . dear fallow, T congrat—." Grimmes ( 4 1y, bo never could look at the bright side of &ng«)—:fl 0, but a fellow can ¢ expect more thaa one in hia lifetime, and this is only £10, and the cetate's in Chancery !” [They liquor up despons = —Tho publication of s fresh historicel para- dox reminds a contemporary of Syduey Smith's comment on Niebuhr's History of Rome : Hava on heard of Niebuhr's discoveries? All Roman tory reversed ; Tuq!‘fm turning ont an excel- - Jent family man, and_ Lucretia a very doubtfal character, Whom Lady —— would not have visited.” —A rural editor, lamenting the death of *“ona of the best advertisers and subscribers we ever had,” thus _touchingly concludes his obituary eulogy: **He possessed the love, confidenca, and esteem of all who knew him, and some wha id not, and, save a slight poker debt to Ar. ——, did not owe & cent in the world.” A school-girl in one of the rural districta of Pittafield, Mass., wes_overheard trying vince & school-fellow that she liked him bettex than she did some other urchin, of whom be seemed jealous, *Of course, I like you better than I do Bill,” said she, “for don't I miss words in my spelling lesson on purposo 5o as to be l.;m'n to the footof the , where you are?” —AMrs, Brown (whoso daughter has just been performing admitably on the piano-forie)—" Do your daughters play, Mra. Jones ?” bira. Jones (whose four daughters bave only been listaning) —4“No.” Mrs. Brown—*‘Sing?” Mrs. Jones— “No." Mrs. Brown—Paint mn water colors?” Mrs. Sones—*No; we 3o in for beauty!” 4 —A wife of nearly ten years, baving given het servant a holiday, was attending to culinary mat- ters herself, and, hearing her husband coming in the-kitchen, thought she would surprise him 18 800n as he entered the door by throwing her hands over his eves and imprinting a kiss on his brow, as in the days of the honeymoon. The husband returned the salute with intarest, and asked, as he disengaged her bands, Mary, dar- ling, where is your mistress?” The wife dis- charged Mary, darling,” the next day, and has dopted a mew plan of *eurprisiog” her hus- incaster ess. - . —This is the way a Pulaski, Tenn., reporter reports a ball : ““Next, we gaze on the lovely 58 A. D., in potite fillo & pleurs do Francais. The perfection of art, the ne plus nltra of decora- tion, was reached in’the elaborate ‘getup " this * sweet wanderer from the sky.’ Her greu was made of orange-colored muslin delsine, with white fixens elaborately looped and embroidered with artificial 1l dously puffed and Lrizzlsda:nd horticulturally arranged with sun-flowers ‘did up’ with dahlias gopped in dew.” ~—Owen Burgess, of Danbury, is in the Bridge- Eort jeil. A nice man, heis. Here Danbury s gone to work at great expense to build 3 handsome brick jail, with hot and cold water and gas, and put & pinnaclo and French roof on it, and done eve ing possible to farnish it with the comforts of a home, and this Burgess, this man who pretends to be a Danburian and have tho intorest of his town at heart, goes off to patronize a rival institution, That's a brilliand way to encourage home induatry, that is !—Dan- bury News. X A Remarkable Instance o7 Canine Sas gacity. From the Louiscille Ledger. Many marvellous stories of the sagacityof dogs are told, and some of them tax credulity geverely. An iustance occurred in thiscitya few daya ago that is well worth relating. A Lt He black and_ tan_torrier, belonging to Mr. Newcomb, had followed & memfir of the family to the amg store of Dr. J. B. Barnum, corner of Fifth and York streets, and while on - the sidewalk a gres! OVer-grown car !:mged apon it and broke one of its fore legs. The howls of agony emitted by the poor little fellow nktrac!efl‘&a ‘attention of Dr. {hmnm and at his suggestion the dog w28 taken into the store, and the doctor proceeded to set the broken 195 and splinter and bandage it. The dog resisted the operation with sl his power, and snapped and howled the whole time. The dog waa taken home, and after an absence of four days returned to the atore of its own 8- cord, walked up to Dr. Barnum, wagging its and whining, and held ont the broken leg for tke Doctor’sin: tion. An examination revealed the fact that the bandages and splinters had become digarran IEled and wers evidently causing gre: pain. ‘The D i owers, Her hair was stupen- .. ab octor rearrangod the dresings, 364 the dog hopped away. Every day since then the dog comes regularly to the stora and holds out its leg to the Doctor, as much as to say, ““Laok at that, Doctor, and see how it's getting along:’ The examination, over, the dog goes home. leg is nearly well, and it remains to be seen ‘whether, like many of the human race, as £003 asheis well he will forget the physician Wi healcd hir.