Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, April 5, 1874, Page 11

THE CHICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE SUNDAY, APRIL 5, 1874. i 11 MODERN EXTRAVAGANCE. Farpishing of a TFashion- _able House. The Fitting Out the Family-Parlor 3 1 past of & gnd the Music-Room. goeifental Remarks Relative to Girls of . the Period. mvteb sgo, tho Bpecial phess of modern gmvsgance which w0 touched upon was that frmishing ; but we got no further than the br‘_gg-rwm:. ususlly two in number, or ove e on. On tho samo floor there should be, porerer, in €Vesy well-regulated fashionable i FIVE OTHER BOOMS, nporately furniebed a3 the drawing-rooms; "“m,,’.e we bave already shown, includ- e xithout any musical extravagance, $15,000 1§50 000 Toe five other rooms sre: Small parlor for eral use, library, mausic, reception, and din- £ ms. The small parlor generally differa o iee lasgor drawing-room, or salon, in Lav- oz TOTE home-like appearance; but, like tho (jfl spartments on this floor, is 80 connected b fhe grand calon 28 to allow it, with the pbers, to be eacily thrown into a continoous ite, Tpon oceasion of Madame's grand crush o the season, when she entertains her sar fivo bundred friends, old dowagers, sith beaks 10 souff a scandal, and claws @ tar 3 reputation, essiduously using wii; jeme ingenues, of whom ome in sfiz, pecbepBy would rather go skating or snow- jing with Brother Ted, while the other forty- telisten with unblushing bardihood to tho ¢y, simpering, not over-refined fiattery of the skge-boy who is invited to danco with them, rthe meavof the world who, tearing open the als of this half-blown rose-bud of s girl, Lasscankerat its heart, or at best nofra- w thero to astonieh his scnscs. It febcen emelled away long ago in school-girl i=ations, when sho learned the conversation 2o heodkerchief, and wrote to some news- piper that has a column of snswers to corre- bicdents, to know what the linguage of s fan wes 88 Spanish women understand 1t. Febsro 80 FEW USCONSCIOUS GIRLS o0 fow who catch the siang of thelr leobers, perbaps, but to whom these are only fpaboys, and their friocnds only the other boys. Fri individual in bifurcated garments, from 16 foif, is to them a possible best. It w2 rather rofreshing, in thisdesrth of geu- segirliskooss, £ liston 10 the convereation of fome young people whom wo met in a car the Hhermight, ‘The girl, about 17, tall, straight, vith cletr, bright, Ronest eves, radiant complex- jon,snd the high soprano voice whichmakes every fooe of our country-women so penetrating, was standing in s, rather overcrowded car, and Jean- iog sqeinst ber brother, who evidently took no £mall pride n ks foir sister. With them was adother lad sbontethe girl's age, and their talk was all of school, and what each was studymng. How that Isd, with tne usual self-complacency of Fis eex, strove to show his superior attain- Tents by questioning her on herstudies ! * What &dshe stadz? Algebra?” *¢Yes, she had been Broogh algebra,” but frenkly confessed that she i gererunderstood it, or had forgotten all sbout { it Thencame 5 A CRUENTNG QUERY | v which he intended to overwhelm her: ! Weonld she tell bim whet 4@ ——awas?” i There was delicious perplexity in her eyes; the i nous sign was a mystery; and the ardent | Zimpion for the superior mentality of his sex “ld scarcely wait for ber ta acknowledge that { nh a proposition had nover met her astonished s or enre, befora be hastened to tell her that Sooly, of all bis class, knew the answer,—got §1dght’s ho had seen it somewhere, or heard it. 'ng well! I told you I had forgotten 21l I knew i e i i st b om0 s s A it i 5 i it st he boy, after all. How we longed to er in her ear the old first pringiples, ‘Chango all the terms in the sum to bs sub- * etc., and leb ber quictly snub him. Them, “Did tho study apy lanzuages?” * Yes.” Fhat?”. “Frenchand Latin.” * How far had { tgone in Latin " * Throngh the first book @ Liry.” **Ah! they had beon through »—" And 80 on tbrough various phases of § b eatochism. Sully school-fellow twaddle, no it bat SUCH A RELIEF fomthe simpering giggle, the half-innuendo. the suxtious inflection, the playing with edge-tools, 1t ope too oiten sees and hears between just mh sdolescents, like the common way-side reimen of the dstura, into such unpleasant srbenenth the forcing influcnce of these same crashes. e bave wandered away from our theme, and ed searcely chronicle all the varieties of peo- among Madame's dear five bundred friends. s 2t the Societr-dramas of the present day, &d von il recognize them. Thers is a spice of romething unwholesome sbout el these inmas: and if, in them, poetic justice is meted out at Jzst, it by no means alweys concludes fn the svme way in real life. Let us get back toour fornishings : Thera is the. 5 PARLOR FOR GENERAL USE. dometimes a Turkey carpet covers this floor, bat not often. Ttrequires the educated taste of an Ensflake to appreciate their esthetic qualities. AMogueiteis too delicate for daily wear and teor, sud #0 either an Axminster, Wilton, oz velvet ie epportioned to this apartment. It is, or should be, the most comfortable room in the whole bouse; and, where tzste and money go bend inhand, it seems rather cruel to make » eort of “suctioneer's inventory of the vwhole affair. Unfortunately, to this very wplesant category does all this seem- ing elegance often como. At least Ve are fiving actus] costs, and not nndervaluing e peronal property. Tlhe carpet for this room weta only £150. The window-draperies, por- &eres, 2nd mantel-upholstery sy be estimsted stabont £700. The furniture consists of one or i comfortatle lounges, a balf-dozen essy- tairs, —nico, comfortable ones, that fit any logth of leg or back,—sundry little tables, a £l eseritoire, one nice large centra-table, a took-rack for the bools that are most frequently flower-stands in the window, & fernery or andian case, 8 bird or two perhaps, and a low e that accommodates itself to either hard or fieosl, Itis 4t was her reply. Not very mach squelched THE FAMILY-BOOM. o thehouse; and, even among the most heert- %, the most cantankerous of ms—and who =ongus has not the pleasant facility of finding 2 and commenting upon the flavs in the f‘;‘fl&}_ of his household companiors, with a ._3“1!}' disregard of any possiblé pein he may lict?—thera is a certain clannishuess, and wa eladof the gathering room, the sitar which fiemr erect to our Lares nnd Penates, and 2 shuse them =s much as we please, Ymship nowadsys scems to have culminated in ige. ere are more pessimists than ' among us, and it is easier to tear down n:hh'bmm up. How manyof us who, at our ot knees, learned of the angels, and went ,'m, rosy, dreamless slumbers with s hearty et in their prescnce, and a dread of wrong-do- :z,‘le&.uu bright gnardian, thelargest and best $LALL our own“specislls-appointed one, should his wing, poor thing” I s head unde {bough o digat exactiy pusit in_that irrover- Iy, then), for any small fault wo might gy are now looking eagerly, ansiously, ¢ 41 hope that protoplasms Wil be evolved 7232 aheolute inorganic matter; that the ques- é’:! of spontareous generation may become a oo fact, and life bo produced and evolved by {a2dy chemieal caures,—be-ome a ecietific fect, 2ot & miraculous interveption? Neverthe- é.;";:a &0 adliere to the parlor; that is in- oug ¥, not potontial; zad here we can dis- . ¥ Our fanlts and roibles, quarrel snd make fajgh ot ery, as we pleaso, and altogother Iy rm Malthus to the contrary, if the world han popalited, we are mther glad that we Ho: Irresponsible agents in the fact. titmy o While such a oom is quite possible arges Al outlay, wo ere talkrag of those £ Possibilities’ which may. or may not pro- | S eniravagance, but which admit of surronnd- i st in case of small afictions, make the Uy of ¥00 by no mezus mythical. THE Youd etand very much e, $ 150 =500 . o0 R x| Jore-Tates aud fernary. e LT - nt, bronze, including clockande ~ Candelshry, fi;ma 20d losser Grnanents. Ott08ns, and haegocks, | | ]i P | | ornamentation of the room, in the bits of bric-a- brac which may be gathered together, in various ways this sum may be ndded to immensely. Ia . fact, one forgotten item will swell the bill for Decessaries to a larger figure,—the regulation pier and mantel mirrors. However, there is a fragrance about this room; and, even if ten times the sum were expended here, we should hardly cavil 3 In all well-ragulated fashionsble esteblish- ‘ments, thero must of course, be A MTSIC-ROO. The plano in tlte parlor is the most used; but that is only for evervday strumming, when Madame or the girls—if thore are any old enough to have been presented—feel unusually senti- mental, or waat an accompaniment to an incipi- ent fhrfation. Batthe music-room proper has been a subject of much thoaght. The carpeting and npholstering of this room have required a deal of znxious consideration. ~Madame hess vague theory of acoustics floating through her brain, but not sufficiently defined to actually de- cide whether there shall'be a carpet or not. ~ She asks several of her fashionable friends, but they are a8 much at ses on the subject as eho bherself is; 8o she remembers that the theatras and opera-houses certainly have some carpets, and the boxes are screened by curtains, and, if they deadened the sound, certainly they would not bo used there. Having thus triumphaatly mrived at a certain conclusion, she still feels a ttle wavering, and eventually compromises the matter by having the floor put down in a mosaic of costly wood about the sides, and epreads o square of carpet, with a border around it, in the centre. Thia is Moguetto, aud costs about 8200, The furniture is all of enameled wood and gilt, covered with rose-colored eatin, with one or two pieces in bluo to givo it s Fompadour look. They, too, are luxurious in their soft yielding- ness, and have, with the sofss, been made to or- der st a cost of €1,500. Tho draperics are also 2 compromiee, and are all Ince. There is but ono window to this room,—a deep bay,—and £500 is the sum which it has cost to drape it airily and successfully. More mirrors, framed to match the furniture, §1,500. A grand piano, $2,000; a harp, $1,000; a guitar, inlaid, $125; & Germaa fiute, §100; ‘another made of gilver, which cost £5007; and yet SHE IS XOT QUITE SATISFIED. Sbe has heard that there is a marblo flute—one unique instrunment—in the world, end ol her money eannot buy it. What would she not give for it} for any one can get a silver flate made, if Lo only has money enough? A violin, costing §500, though she is now anxiously looking about for “a Cremons, or sometiung of that sart, von know,"—having gained s vague knowledge from the converss- tiou of certain mausical connuissenrs, that there are certain priceless instruments m the world, about which she is anxionsly worrying herself. she is not quite sure yet what it i3 sho wants,— not quite certain of the names; but modern ex- travagance will have the hest, if money can pur- \ chase it. Not for its special worth, but its pecu- niary value. Music-racks snd other furnishings 2dd an- other 1,000 to this room; and so, TO BE BEALLY FASHIONADLE, 4 o find that wo tust add together the following items for this apartment : Total...cciaee vannananen -..$8,925 ‘We do not esy that any one in Chicago has quite reached this figure, but it may be consid- ered potentiall; L HUXIOR. An exchange says woman's sphere is mar- riage. e never saw one yet that had any fear sbout it. i 4 —Dio Lewis is the man who kept a Utica audi- ence until 10:30, explaining to taem the good results of going to bed promply at 9. —The new volcano is said to be like a Bpanish benuty, because “it is a lovely crater, privileged to smok: —Speaking of becoming attire, what thing is ‘most likely to become a woman? Why, & littls girl, of coursa. —A Maine woman has hair 7 feet and 5 inches long—too long to be available for use in butter. —A New Jereey tobaccouirt,with commendable frankness, advertises : I shall continue to keep on hand imported cigars of my own manufac- ture, 8 Danbury philosopher observes that the placidity of expression worn by a man who is “noxt * in & full barber’s shop cannot be coun- terfeited. —Temperance gent (to intosicated barber) : “Dad thing for sbaving, whisky.” Barber: “Yes, eah. It makes tho ekin d of tendor ; but T will take great care, sab.” —They were going to put a man out of a San Francisco theatre for creating a disturbance, when s voice cried : * He's all right, he's killed a Chinsman !" and they let the man &lone.—De- troit Free Press. —Hereis tbe Jatest chromo dodge. A preacher ¢ 5p conntry™ offers to every person who shall not miss one of his sermons for & year the gift of * an elegant chromo.” Magbo that is put- ting a premium cn the habit of sloepicg in church. —A Delaware man has been taking cod-liver oil for four years to cure the consumption, and has just found cut that he never had any eon- sumption. Ho is the maddest man in America, and his children haven’t said * boo” in a weel. —Peace is preserved in a household in Elka- der, In., by a long withy raw-hide hung up in the bedroom of the juvcnile portion of the family, bearing upon its bandlethelegend, * Boss, pleaso be kind to your mother. —+*8ome men die and nevor think of their families, and some dob’t. A New Jersey farm- er’s last words were: *‘I'll bet $10 John'll for- get to grease that democrat wagon.” —A young poet in the Western States sent to a local paper a love-poem beginning, “ Revel, T begg, the radgic spell.” The editor answered that if he liked to call at the office ho should have the run of the dictionary for a few hours. —Young Spinks came home from a ball one nighs last week with alook of doespamr on his manly countonance. *‘What's the matter?” askeq his father. *Oh!” gasped tho young man, * she ato & strawberry ice and she wore a scarlet ribbon! What taste in colors! By heart is broken!” —Punch considers it a literary coincidence and a special fitness of things that the author of “'IPhn Complete Angler” should also bo the bi- ographer of the great Hooker. —A paper in Nebrasks, under the head of ““An hour with our business men,” describes two saloons, snd ends the item with the romark, “This completes the rcund of the business houses on the public square.” —“Murder i8 a very serious tning, sir,” said an Arkaneas Judge to & convicted prisoner ; *‘it is next to stealing a horse or a mule, sir, 2nd T shall send you to the Stete Prison for six years, Bir.” A Virginia railroad was made to nay $15 for Killing a rooster. The engineer said he spoke to the gentleman with the whistle as kindly as pos- sible, but when the fellow éropped one wing on the ground, raised his good eyo heavenward, and commenced whetting his spur on the rail, forbearance ceased to bo virtuo, and he lit into him with thirteen freight cars. and forwarded Lim to his happy scratching-ground by lightning express. —A ftine distinction was that the preacher of the Richmond First Baptist Church made : My brudders,” said be, *when you was all slaves dar might he’ been sense for cuttin’ a glice off de marsr’s bacon, or hookin’ a bandful o' core- meal, or robbin’ do hen-roost; for you all work bord 'den, my brudders, and you earn it, my brudders aud gisters. But now you is all fres men dar ein't no_'scuse whatever ; you's all on ser own’ sponsibility.” . —If cremation comes in, the Philadelphia ZLedger will bave io produce a new style of obitu- ary verse. The following has already been sug- gested : 4 The boast of heraldry, ‘The pomp of pawer, And sll that beauty, All that wealth eer knew, ‘Await alike the inevitable homr— The path of ‘glory leads but to the flus, ! . . . . - I € And this 1a all that's left of theo, Thou falrest of denrtfh':ignughh:ara; 0Only four pounds of sshes white Oulyof onaplq:\mdxnd and fourioen and thres-quar- ters, —Rhode Island girls are not wanting in theart of gently insinuating tbat, like Barkis, * they're willin™.” It was only recently that a lady, walk- 1ng one evening under the classic shades of Browa Usiversity, overheard the following Sonversation between o young lady and gentleman just in front of ber: * Charley, did you ever henr it gaid thot if a person found & four-leaved clover and put 1t in their ehoe, the first gentleinan’ or Iady fhe person walkod With would be their husband or wife? No—uever heard of it before “Well, I found one and put it in my shoe thia morping, and you are the first_one I have walked with. I wonder if it is trne?” There could bo but one answer to this, but the unin- tentionnl eavesdropper does not.mention it, Jeaving the publio 1n cruel doubl 83 t0 whother the ruse way supoess{ul or nok THE PHILOSOPHY OF DYE. PART L VANITY. He was walking in the Burlington Arcade. It was 11 o'clock 1 the morning. He paused to contomplate his imperfections in one of those lengthy mirrors that adorn the pilas- ters between the ehops. He was scarcely satisfled with the rcsult. He mignt be 8 and 30. He was exccedingly handsome. But one indication of approaching age marred his redolent besaty, and this was IS VERY GRAT NAIR. For my part, I thought it improved him: but then the hair did not hzppen to be mine; and, consoquently, I was not a judge. Whether the bairin itself was an ornament, from its gray disposition, ornot, was leasa question tomy fricud than the age which the color disclosed. And, as of course I could not possibly tell what 2ge he might wish to appear, I was only a judge of the color from my pomnt of view, not his. One thing, at least, was cer- toin: that, whatever the colorof the hair, it adorned & head and countepance which were strikingly sereme arnd fine. Not strictly, per- haps, intellectual ; not the head of a Newton or a Locke; but tho pledge of distinctive character, with largeness of soul, if not mind. The head was a head which said—and the countenance said the same thing—** I think ; but not to greas pur- poee. I have the highest smbition to be some- thing great, but not the force to achiove it. I aspire to idess beyond'the reach of auy one, and thereforo necessarily of mysolf. I have the finest conceptions of the intnitely Should-Be; bat my achiovewents sre abnormally normal. In short, I am 2 mun of theory, with just mine hundred s year." Such & man was ALGERNON BTAPLETON. He united the weak and ths strong to & point that was absolutely typical. At breakfast he would originste tho most splendid ideas, which by dinper he had totally forgotten. He would begin a book on somo giant subject, aad write the first page or preface, but the effort 80 ex- hausted bis fand of power that completion was out of the qaestion. Hewouldplan a method for relieving the poor from every hardship and wrong ; but he worked out the mecthod as he walked to his tailor, and it ended in his ordering = ooat. He would arrive at the conclusion that a lucid intellect depends on ascetic Lifo; bat he encouraged the view over a bottle of champagne, and woko next morning with a headache. Thus it will bo seen that, though a superior man, he +as eminently waating in ballast. And this i rhaps, that popular want which is sugges! )y the Burlington Arcade. T joined my friend Stapleton on this pregnant morning; but first L watched him, from afar, a8 he gazed into the mirror, adoriug. (The reader will have noticed, in the Burlington Arcade, a popular weakness which pervades the louungers, to look at themselves in the mirrors.) Pousibly, however, be might be eaying to him- self, *ion Diel, comme je me rogrotte!” Whichever it was, M2 STOOD LONG. Bewailment or pleasure was distinctly spun ont bavond the limits of tasle. He might vastly admire his elogant form: if so, Lhat concerned but himself. He might profoundly deplore the freckings of sgo: if &0, the public would not caro for it. The occupation of poudering oneself in a mirror, though adapted to the interior closet, is quite nntitted to an arcade: and many persons obviously thought so while pasaing poor Staploton on the Walk. 1 stood to contemptate. I was anxious to see how loug human vanity—or, let us patit, human regrets—conld keep a man staring toto a_mirror in tho middle of the Burlington Arcade. Yamty, we kno, is the master-pagsion of most of tho greatest of men ; but vanity that sdvertises 1t~ self in a mirror i8 an error in tactic and Laste. Presently, while still he was wrapped in seif- deprcciation or praise, there peored beside Lim, iufo the mirror, & VEBY BEAUTIFUL GIRL. She was exactly 17 years old (I knew it). She smiled with exquisite sweotness, #ith adolescont play and innocence, 8s she coutemplated the glees—or him. She looked into Stapleton’s face. Sho eaid to him by ber eyes, by Ler smile, and light, O vain, but handsome man 1" Stapleton caught the observation. He read it in the sylla- bles of the face. Imaged and writ on that lovely countenance, those words were very quill- penued. He turned, to look. As he did g0 the face moved away; and, jowing a lady of more mature yoars, the girl remarked to tier friend, ** What & remarkably handsome man tlat must have been —Vejore his hair turned gray.” I Stapleton heaid that remark. 1 wes slanding, perhaps, threo yards from him, | just as the words were uttered. I was anxious that he should not suspect that I had been the spectator of - his folly. Ay con- science smoto me for not having ab- breviated _the period of his reckless adver- tisement. I ought to havo stopped him from publishing to the world the fact that ho was so buman. He might, perhaps, be doing what many would have done had they had tho cour- agoto bosilly: but vanity hides vagity with the vainest of veils; which, indeed, is the vainest part of all, Now here I have a remark fo make, which I am sure the reader will pardon. I was desper- atelyin love myself. Moreover, I was in love with the very young lady who hed made this comment on Staplefon. I bad meg her at an evening party just one month before. I too well remembered her. Alas! she had forgoiten me. The reader will therofore scutely appreciate my own _very painfol renzibilities, Had she deigned to admire me, as 1 peored into the murror, Toflecting, it is cortain I sbould have easily forgiven her; but nothing can be more gailing, in love, than fo HEAB ANOTHER ADMIRED. Stapleton, when Lo heard her remark, stood for a moment mute. He scemed lost in the tremendons power of the flattery plus the reproach. Then, giving ~ utter- ance to tho terrible ‘echo which came up from the depths of his soul, he murmured fceblrh but sadly, *‘Before bis hair turned By B Y was domo! _ With those words had sunk into his soul & pew regret and ambition. Ho would dye! Butone thing was wanting, as she ha¢ said, to complete bis remarkable besuty—dacl bair. He turned. As he turned he sawme. Trans fixed with the new idea, which that moment hac entered his soul, he seemed as if hardly he koew me. With agaze that was absent, yet meaning, an expression that was painfally loat,he smd— not onesingle word. ! ) He took my arm. I was silent. I waited till he shonld discloge the abysmal purpose of hif mind. 1 susoected exactly what was coming. 1 knew my friend Stapleton; snd I conld truth. fully augur the current oporativns of bis will. I had not one minute to wait., With a burst of unwonted inspiration—unwonted in tho rareness of the theme—he asked me, spasmodically ani fiercely, 3 **wI£T 18 YOUR OPINION OF DYE?" I was equal to the greatuess of tho occnsior. I_ropiicd, very Dbricly, but emphatically “Bosh I “You are an Idiot!” he continged. (Thst was rude.) Huir-dye is a symbol. It is the materinl reunderiog of "a popnlar principle and practice. All men dye—but not Their sinir. 1t is purely a questioa of what thoy dye. LEvery man and woman dyes something. Sonre dye their characters—most lo. Some dye their fortunes, that they may appear to be richer than they are. Some dye their vces, that they may pass_for being good. Scme’ dye their parents, their origin, their famly.’ Some dye' their profession, their business, their trade. The shopman dyes his goods by false an- nouncement. The barrister dya his clien, his cause, or his defenso. The menber of Parlia- ment dyes_his politics, his speeches, his ad- dresses. The clergsman dyes hs eermons, his yiews, and even piets. ‘Women dye their morals 50y proprioty. Professors dye their iguorance. Merchents dye_their cargoes—b mako big for- tunes. Dy, sir, is the principh of life. “Iam astonished at your superficinlity. I should have thought you & man of greater sbservation than to monosyllabize your contenpt of dye by ¢Bogh! z\'hy, every ono who lus studied Life and men must know thay withoul tho use of dye, society conld mot "hold to- gether for even half an hour. ien would ba Ricked out of every drawiag-pom who ehould dare to show themselves wittout it Pulpits wonld be empty ; Parliament uovoiced ; tho Bar nnwigged : the shops all sbut ; the City waste. Sir, the man who dyes his hair ays but humble compliment to the mlg;eme coaviction of ths age: That man was born to dy2, and that with- out it HE CANNOT LITE” (I have said that Staplgton 5288 remcriable man. ¥ "N)o one,” I replicd, “is better able than yourself to postize a foliy.” 5 ; Now, there you wrong ‘e again. Folly is ihe abserce of thought. Itisthe laving bare tho great foundations of the Real. You are not 8 eballow mean; aud yot you scoff at Fact.” o Pardon me,” I sniwéred, * it is one thing to sdmit a {ack; agother to appreve ik You talx: ! Forgiving an onemy—and of dyeing 88 a merit ; whereas, at most, as it appears to myself, it can be only a vel.” 1 am not prepared to agree " with you,” re- sponded the gfted Sispleton. "+ Bociety bas its science; which " is the matural adjustment of things as they are, with the least smount of offense. Admit that the Fall has permeated every rank and stratum of society; and it then becomes & duty to protect ourseives, Eb:y seeming to be perfect. We ars not perfect. very man and women i8 imperfect—mentally, sethically imperfect. Now, moral dye is that re- ligious substitute which takes the place of rank disedification. Good heavens! you would not bave men seem what they are; mor women either? You must bave dye. Tho only gnes- tion is, how to use it with the least amountof Iyis ut what_has this to do with hair-dye 2” I remarked. **Your rhapsodies are carrying you' away from your text, and landing you in vision- ary ethics of most impossible nonsense.” “Ah ! you have no mind, ‘* he continued, very much irritated at my comment. ** You canuot fmflp & principle. What I am trying to drive nto your hesd—but you are #o amazingly dull— i the great and doop-lsing truth, that ALL JEN DYE ; and that the very most fictional part of their dyoing is, that thoy donyit. Why, take that poor unfortunate woman, Madame Rachel. Thatwoman was a tvpe of London. She was the very apos- tle of the public truth—that all men dye, but that none have the courage to confesa it.®She ought to have had a statue erected to her in Trafalgar Square, by an admiring, = grateful, and an approcative nation. Sho ought to bave been homaged by both Houses of Parlizment, s the great Pythagoras of dye, who Lad the cour- sgo to follow asa profession what others so- cretly espouse. She boldly proclaimed—what every one practices—the principle of dye. She worshiped, though at a mighty distance, the Dukes and Duchosses; the Senators, Bishops, and high clergy; the merchant-princes, leaders of fashion, and the Bar; in daring, but in the most humble manner, to offer homage to tueir fictions by practicing her own. Madame Rachel was the great apostle of the age. She taught by symbols, yet proclaimed the trutl. *Youdye,’ sho said to the nineteenth century; *permitme just to dye your faces—sinco you have already Uyed, withont my aid, your hearts and con- acielneu, your minds, your morals, and your sonls.’” *1 think that a glass of sherry,” I replied, would bo refreshing alter that.” And, leaviog the Arcade, we strolled back to my chambers, and pursued the 8oft mmenities of Life in two very comfortable arm-chaira. L Now, shall T confess it? Yes, I'began this story expressly to make reparation: and, though 1have lingered long upon tho threshold, it is onlyto sliow what & superior man poor Stapleton was, and theram to exalt my own meritorious confession. % 1 saw he was aetermined t» dye—but why? The truth was, that beautiful girl, who had gees: him in the Burlington Arcade, had got into bis_head—and bair. He had beard the romark, *What a handsome man that must have beco— before hiw hair turned gmy; apd, being a man of inductive thought, o deductive, productive, or what you will, Lio Instantly detormined to dye. That beautifal little facs—ob, IT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL!— peering beside him in the mirror had fas- cinated his head—and hair. He loved that girl] (This was very painful to_me.) I did not tell him that I koew her. I am sorry for this now. 1 thought he wontd never discover her— never see her spain; and asI had been intro- duced, and passed an evening in hor society, 1 was secretly docided that nothing skould escape me to lat oat who she was, Btaploton could tatk of no one else.” *'I have seen,” he eaid. so soon ag we wero seated in my chambers, ‘‘the most beantiful face, this morning, I ever kaw in my lite,” And then Lo wentoll to describe Ler fenfures; hor ineffable charm and youths bor halr, that~ was glittering gold (O pregnsnt and disastrous thems!) ; her childisn way and inuocenco ; and her exguisite petito- aesa of style. I listoned a8 one who was in- Daling, from atar, the perfames of an unknown cardon. * If 1 could get an introduction to er," ho exclaimed, * I would sacrifice balf my inconte.” (He might sacrifice the whole it he Liked, but he should not ba mtroduced by me.) ‘The very next morning I was walking in'the Burlington Arcade—fascinated, no doubt, by yesterday—whon I saw, to my unspeak- able horror, Stapleton talking to Acr! lncon- ceivable wildnoss and effrontary ! Not merely gazing ; not merely wbibing, from a respectful and contemplative distance, the exhalatious of her pictaral beauty—but actually TALKING, OONVERSING, LAUGHING ! Oh! this was too much. How could he Hhave got an introduction ? The thing was avsolutely impossible. I must knock bim down., “Ah! Walter,” he said to me, with masterly cheeriness and complacency ; “how do you do 7™ Now, Christianity has some excellent ideas. loviug Lim—is, of “courss, a beautiful precept. To Lave forgiven Stapleton — and to Lave loved him—gst that particalar moment would have been, doubtless, superbly heroic.- There may be men who could do it. I do not say thore arenot. Bat 1 most empbatically as- sert that J am not of the kind. I should rever— ouce the man, with almost -worship, who could rise to such mystic level; canonization would be inadequate to his merita. But, as a matter of fact,—and L can spesk only for myself,—I am 1ot :he man to whom posterity will point as Liav- ing achioved that incrediblo perfection. 1t transpired that tbe Jady hud dropped her purso; shat Stapleton had picked it up; that her gratitude was almost boundless; that Sta- leton had used his opportunity; that his volu- guny of - utterance had beeu pushed toits at- most; that politeness—of which Le was a master —bhad swung open the gates of acquaintance; and that his extraordinary charm (for I deny not be had it) bad broken-down barriers of decorum, and trampled into dust Introduction. I was savage’ ag virtue, when it finds _ itselt ~ galled} as meekness, when it loses its aiwm. The Decalogue had & right to complain of mytemper on thut wretched morping. 1was wspired by one simple Jeel- ing= REVENOE! And this was the way I took it. ‘We ware sitting, noxt morning, in Staploton’s rooms, discussing personal beauty. Stapleton—who was always superb in his mauipulation of nonsensical themes—hazarded, in rexard of dye, some uew aud startling views. This was exactly what I; wanted. Stapleton, 25 ho was, stood soprecie among conquer- i men. His 80ft gray heir gave a tone aud mellowness to a face that whs brimfull of sonl. It was just such a face as a yirl loves to look on ; parental in'tho breadth of its beart; juveuilein the ingtinct of life; buoyant with infantine bilarity ; yet nurtured with aa_ocean of calm. Tho combination is seductive and raro. Staple- ton had it. T koew it was useless forme to fight against such a man 88 Stapleton. I might be younger—by at least fiftcen yoars; but what have years to do with conguest when Stapletons mar tho way? Staple- ton could talk ; Stapleton could induct; Staple- ton could ravish the ears of a girl with flood- ing. power aud thought. Icouldnot. I could only do—what most men can_do—talit well enough to lot ont the secret that I bad very little inme tolet out. I could roveal; by effort, the watings of mind. I gas not Stpleton—0 hated, but gifted encmy! How nlm.el I crush you in the dust? 2 One way lay open befors' me—to MAKE POOR STAPLETON RIDICULOTS! The thing was ready to hand. e would dye! He shouwld! I remarked that morning, as we eat in Staple- ton's chairs, but two days after he had seen The Beauty: *'The only thing, S::xpletcmI that spoils your appearance ig the equivocal color of your tair. 1f you wero to dye your bhair, you would bo the serenest man thac conld sun the buman- ity of town.” 3 ““You think s0? Iam glad to have your opin- jon. Z was afraid you would be adverse to the merits of Art; at least, to that branch which is tinctural.” #Adverse! I approve it. What you were talking of, two daya ago, was dve considered as & virtuo. Therein 1 was unable to follow you. But, when you place its merits on a purely art focting, I am with you foto calo. Dye is the reflorescence of age; the rejuvenization of time. When succesefully pursned, it has merit,—the merit of. can(}ucrix:f nature.” Stapleton looked at me, incredulous. Ho fan- cied I was rallying his weakness. Eut I preserv- ed equanimity of face; though I was glorying in future fiasco. «XNow what dye should yeu chiefly recommend a8 an incipient essay in art?” continued my tine— turing friend. o *! ROSSETED IIAS MERIT, on the score of its principle, which is to ‘restore’ (professedly), not dyo. Of courze that is nonbense, -Bat the idea of ‘restoring’ is perliaps less repulsive to the artistic and nat- ural mind than the sudden trapsition from white to jet-black, proposed by transmating com- ounds.” B I roplied—only delighted that he should dye at all—that I had & great regard for Rosseter; that I was at school one of his sona (Heaven forgive the invention !); that T considered him a virtuous man, aod above mare charlatan clir canery. ‘* Rosseter be 1t!” I gaily advanced. ** T will will try a bottle with yon. It will amuse mo; bt not change my hair.” **Bir " (wrote Stapleton, snatching up his pen). * you will be 8o good s to send me, sccure from public observation, a bottle of your Hair Restorer, for which I inclose threo and nine- pence. Your obedient servant, - ‘* ATQERNON BTAPLETON, * To RosseTER, Esq.” This letter I posted that morning. Oh! would that I had not done so! PARTIL FIASCO. I was alarmed on receiving, about three daya afterwards, the following leticr from Stapleton : Dran Warzes: Come st once. Iam vers—very {1 Yours, A. 8, I lhastened to Stapleton’s roome. There I found him, stretched on a sofa, looking THE PICTURE OF MISERT. “Good gracious !" I said, ‘* what has hap- pened 2" He gurgled and gasped a roply. Hia face was exprossive of utter disgust, even more than of positive pain, Mo asked me,—and thess wers the first words he spoke,—‘* What are the mn- gredients of Rossoter's dye ?—do you know 2" 1 said I believed it was an innocent compound of sulphur, and water, witha sediment of acatate of lead to secure the color. I conld not speak as a suvant, for Idid not understand such mat- ters; but my opinion, though feebly gleaned, was that ncetsto of lesd was & Euman, if taken in very large guantities. Frag exteroal application, however, o sort of harm could be dreaded. *“ Extercal application{” howled poor Staple- ton ; “ 1 havetaken a bottle inwardlyl Listan, whilo I tell you what has happened. Feelny rather poorly yesterday, I sent for a medicul quickener. It came. I was exactly like, color and quantity, the Restorer that wasin that bottle.. But, in my fear, lest any one should recogpize thie Restorer, aa it stood on my tablo, a4 an unguent, I had removed the label from,the bottle ; and, in a moment of absence of mind, I . SWALLOWED THE- WHOLE OF THE RESTORER, in mistake for the'dose I had sent for. It has made me feel very ill. I was really ashamed to sg&:d {for a doctor, to tell him I'had dyed my in- ide.” 1 suggeated a palliative I thought of ; and in a very few Lours ho was well. But nothing conld induce him to renow his experience of Rosseter’s croam-colored wasa. So soon, however, a8 ho was recovered, his mind reverted to the theme. Hesaid tomein a ditlident manner, and balf-smiling at his own imbecility, ** What1s your opinion of Mry. Allen ? —I mean of that advertised nostrum which she preclaims will renovate the world? Now, I waa anxious that Stapleton should dre; but not that he sbould impregnate his system with giycerine and acetate of lead. I bad heard of meu suffering horrible pains from imbibing the luster ingredient ; and though, of course, in hair-dye the quantity is small, stil, if mis-taken in bottles ot a time, the result couid not be salu- brious. Bo I eaid, +Perhaps it would be safer to try some other Lind of dye. Mrs. Allen, I know, bas very fine pictures of ladies’ back-halr, and shoulders; aud, doubiless, will restore.a *world-wide’ hair by her wash, ‘sold only in large boitles;” but I should hazard that A SPEEDIER DYE, ° whose offects would bo_permaneat while quick, would 5ave you an infinity of trouble, and would not be mistakeu for draughts.” Ho caught the idea. Ho said, *I will make my own dye." “Pray do not,” I answered. *Zosicrucians oralchemists may toy with drags, with very little danger to their lives , but for'zmatours indye to compound rank poisons, is sitply to invita de- straction.” So he said, *Do you think that ‘Auriccmus’ wouid become me?” And he lsughed at the fond conceit. * That gold shinde is mnot without merit. DBut, o be sure, it never was mine.” ¢ Exactly,” I replied. ‘ Thenormal absurdity of people swho dye is, that they choose a color not their own. A fair man will come out in jot- biack bair; and a dark man inrays of the sun. Now, prudence in coloris closelyakin to prudence in languago aud manners, For a man of bright gayety to assume the undertaker would be an ertor in choice of vocation ; aad for & lugnbrions mortal to become a pantaloon, woald be to make bhiwself stitl more unbappy. Yet men who dye, 3 a rule, select THEIR MOST ANTIPODAL COLOE. They advertise their art by pablio. proclama- tion of their own unfitness to practice it. 1 saw » man yesterdsy who bad pat his hairinto rourning for sinsof departed youth. When last I met him be was five and twenty, and then hie bad fiaxen.hair; yet now his very eyebrows are craped; he batbands snd weepers Lis whis- kers ; he hearse-feathers and mutes the whole of his head in astyle of recent hereavement. Such sfiliction—in hair—I never beheld; wuch eapillaried grief and misery. I thought, when I met him, I must go up to Lim and say, with the tendercst voice and mauner, ‘Sir, for whom do you mourn? Has the whole of your family Leen swept by pestilence, and have even your grandchildren been killea? What incon- olable grief! What rayless sorrow! How shall I condole—rwith your hair 2" ““Then you advise me,” said Stapleton, Iaugh- ing, * not to dye my bair " 1 eaw that T had gone too far, 8o I instantly revoked, and added: ‘*Oa the contrary, with a man of your taste, no such nsk could- be run, You ‘WOULD DYE HARMONIOUSLY. You would favor your complexion with the sympathies of art, What you had been you would be; aund sixteen would revive in eight- and-thirty. Pray dye! I shalircjoice to see you return (noxt week) to thespring of your redolent beauty.” He conceived that I was mocking his weak- ness. My playfal disrespect for the art of dye shone through my words and accents ; and he said not another word. But_he dyed! From Burlington's mystic Ar- cade Do bought s preperation; and used it se~ cundum artem. It was some deleterious compound. The inventor know what were its (i30S, But Staploton spread out his aterin Medica, and sponged, aud scoured, and toweled. He described it all to me afterwards ; and this was the picture he drew: “ After waiting ten miuutes, my hair grew dark. Iwaseanguine-of immedisto success. I hardly suticipated so speedya return to the ‘auburn locks of youth. I stood before the glass, aud was contemplating with real satisfaction my recovered teens and bloom, when, just as com- Incency was reaching its height; thera came & Enuck at the door. * What then? Well—nothing, if the knock but preludoed a message, or the arrival of a letter by post. But the servant—discharging his words through the keybole (for he bad locked my door)—aunounced that two ladies were wait- ing below, “ in a handsome barouche and pair,” and that they were very desiroua to see me. “ One of these ladies was THE DEAUTT! I did not kmow what to do. My hair was dripping wet. Moreover, the tints were lugu- brious, | a8 though struggling to obscure the Past_ with a new bot fitful Present. I determined, on the in- stant, to wash. Isaid to the eervant, *I will be down in » moment ;’ and, seizing & towel, I washed my head, with infinite speed and anxiety. “ Scarcely had I completed the task, when my oyo caught eight of o passage in the * Directions for Dyetng the Huir,” which had, up to that mo- ment, escaped me. The passage wasas follows : “Bo very careful nof to wash the hair within twenty-four hours of dyeing ; as the result would probably be a Red.’ i “ But now 'twas done. All reeking, moist, and wretched, Idescended the stairs. Th¢* ladies wera in their carrisge. They had come to in- vite me to dinner—to-morrow, at 7 o'clock. Their urbanity was extreme and painfal. % might have*fancied it; but it coemed to me thal there was a piteons tome in their voices, which commiser: my hair, and dye. Any way, my own Ecnsibilities were much more Leen than theirs. I feltdyed. [ felt thatI was DISCOVERED, PAINTED, SMIRCIED. My hat, even, refused to veu the crucl maligni- ties of the hair. The more the ladies grow kindly, the more I realized dyo: and the part- ing wes my happicst moment; for indeed 1 was in intensest misery. ¢I¢ trauspired that the dsy after Ibad met Tho Beauty, with_ber aunt, in tha Burlington Arcade, they had mentioned the fact to an qncle, who happened to ba a member of my club, Col. Fry; you know him? Amiable to the point of insanity, this uncle Lad invited me to dinner, and, to-morrow, I have promised to go. -Xow, returning io my room, I was naturally ezger to sce if I had really turned red. I looked in the glass, and thero, sure enough, the first promise of red was writ- ten. You Bes it, desr Walter? Not positive red just at present, bat only the sicken- Ibg promise.” I may get whiter, or redder. The alternative is too distreasing!” H= eank back in his chizir and grosned. Then, resuming his theme, he continued: 1 wish you had not urged me to dye. It was your tanlt, from beginning to end.” T kmow human natore, and was propared for this equivocation. When aman very earnestly de- sires a folly, and fails in his primary effort, ho will be gure to bfame a friend for the counsel which his own hot vanity evoked. Fat I soothed him with wisdom (and folly). T esidto him that, m every science, and in every braochof high art, sucoess only waits on endeavor : that, whether 1n painting, or acalpture, or drawing, men do not pinnacle at once. Btaga failure, stage incipient, stage hopeful, is in the order of nature's slow step. * You will be," I said, TIE DYEDEST' APOLLO in the whole of artistic London. Don't hurry, or give up indespair. The outside, like the of the head, is developed only by time.” Now it is certain that nonsense can resist eound sense, better than can wisdom or power. The fatter will fail becausa they have measure; while the former is quite without limit. Let a man get a folly well into his head, and Socrates might harangue him in vaio; whereas granduess of purpose may be quickly overthrown, from the fact that it depends upon force. Stapleton was a capital fellow : he could talk like a god (of the bipedal school), and. eyen write superbly—for a moment. In all that had to do with theory hewas a most ** Fuperior man ;” bat in the actual practice of wisdom he was down in the goro of fact. He would dye, becanse he was vain; because be had fallen in love ; because he had heard that unfortunate comment, * What a remarkably handsome man that must have been, besore his bair turned grayl” To divert. poor Stapleton fromdye was now imposmble. Btili I was the. demon’that egged him on, from. SPITE, AND ENVY, AND MALICE! Now, Dye Number One having proved a fiasco, from the- fact that it was inadveri- eutly swallowod, acd Dye Number Tvo haviog issued in calamity,” on account of the * carriage at the door,” it became a moot question how Dye Numbor Thrce oould be hedged with sufficient precaution. The difficalty was this—and & very grave difficalty it was: the effect of wasbing, with the purest rain-water, the undried Dye Number Two was to give to the bair an indiscriminato color, liko sunrise going into mourning. The dreadea red hai notes- sued, but & partial, indecisivo shade of reddish, blackish white was now tho fitful character of Stapleton's once gray hair. This wonld not do. Nature or Art must raign supfomo ; and, Nature baviog resigned ber throne, Art. must do whet she could. Iwaive the detail of that purchasing noon. Buffice it to say that, at 11:25, Stapleton stepped out to buy. He obtained, in the Burlington Ar- cade, another bottls of dye. This time, all must be safe. And a coiffeur assuring him that ** one application would suflice to produce a hazel,” bhe took the unguent to his home ; and, next morning, commencod the campmgn of Dse Number Three, and last. PART I REPENTANCE. Nitrate of silver has this disadvantage, that it requires o be critically msed. If teken inter~ nally, it dyes the skin brown; if applied exter- nally, it dyes the hair blue—cxcept nnder rigid conditions. ‘These conditions were mnot complied with by Algernon Stapleton, Esq. He pur- chusod (in the Burlington Arcade) Bimp- king' Incomparable Dys. The ** Incomparabla ™ had referouco, chiefly, to the profit 3r. Sump- kina derived. It bad also some vague applica- tion to the effect produced on the hair. Whether, from inartistic combination, the nitrate was suffered to sbound over the other less moxious chemicals, or whether from the provious impregnation of Stapleton's hair with Ted, certain 1t is that the result produced WAS THE VERY LABT that would have merited approval from his own esthetic views. His hair turned purple! He wasa supreme exemplar of cerulean beauty, spotted all over with brown. Aloreover, the skin of the inteiligant counten- ance—from too much haste in applying—was dotted with ugly black spots, which lent & variegated appearance to tha complexion, far more uncommon thaa beantiful. Now blue, or parple, though pleasing colors in 2 sphero adapted to their use, aro out of place on a gentleman’s Lead, especially oa that of Stapleton. His soft blue eyes and delicate skin called for no such coutrast. IHis graceful way, and elegant hands, were not eet off by purple. Parple i8 & pronouce color. It sttracts o painfal sttention. You could mot walk dewn Boond street (oor even in the Burlington Ar- cade) with a brilliant head of purple, without exciting the antoward remark—*‘ His hair ia BOMEWIAT T00 ELUE!" Then the ugly black spota were another incen- tive to popular reprebension au to taste. They would ot come off. No appeal from water, nar even from friction, had auy weight with their stubbornness. _'Tioy seemed to like Staploton's face. Their adhercuce to his cheeks was so markedly cordial, that at last poor Stapleton de- speired. ** You will go to-night?” X cruelly asked him, when the spots would not come off. “Itisa dificult question,” he wanderingly said. “Iotellect is & powerful makeway, but in- tellact, with & purple hosd-dress creates an- tipathy, to berin with.” ** Coosider,” I 8aid, “the merit of conguest obtained under such disadvantage. An or man would, of course, succumb; but I am not quite eure, were I Algornon Stapioton, that I should not glory in my purple, for the pride of TALEING IT DO *You are good to pat it 80,” he feebly rejoin- ed. *Certainly, what is comploxion ? Afterall, a man must win by bis brains, and not by his coulewr de rose. 1t is sbsura to think that men Tike ourselves require an_alabaster skin. Boys may do 80 ; average minds may press into ser- vice every suxiliary of look ; bui, a8 you say, where is the nse of being superior to the herd, if we caunot rise above color? Yes, I think I shall go. But, if I do, you must go with me. [ mayrequire sustainment from a friend ; nbyfin%fl.ing by wisdom and power. Ring the T Irangit. “The bronghham,” he eaid to the servant, “ t exactly a quarter to 7." 1L Stapleton’s appearance in full-dress toilet was a sight to move tho angels. Such command of self, and such purple hair, wero never saen to- gether. He read a treacise of Plato in the course of the afternoon to acquire the necessary calm, And at half-past 5 he began to dress; sad ot G was & perfect “sight.” Sopremely got up, with consummate care, he batied rialignity to smile. Graceful as s man need wish to be, his head was 2ll the more droll. His manners were calm as broeding conld make them ; his head was daz- zlingblue. Thespotsonthe face were neeful for ‘this; that they told their own tale with tears; and, when the broughsm came round to take us to dine, I kuew not whether to laugh or to weep. “ HoW DO I LOOK?" he plaintively asked, just befors wo descended the staira. The question was not easy toanswer. Veracity i8 & merit when combined with taste ; but, with- out it, may sometimes be wroug. Veracicy now would have been simply 5 crima ; so 1 replied that, considering the conditions, the eflect wag not pheuomexzl. - * You «till think I can go ?” he gaid, doubting. Now it is one of the pecaliarities of human nature, thatwe don't take the same view of others’ misfortunes that we abitually take of our own. Givenonr oun face, maculate to dis- temper, and it_is cortain that wo should not go to parties. But another's countenance is not our own; aud, consequently, a result whicn, if wo gaw | it 'in the glass, would stmply drive ourselves mad, when seen io a friend is ondura- ble. Thisis the weak side of nature. Solfish- ness is king of all vices; for, though maay ‘man has conquered evory other, no one has quite conquered that. 1 began to repent. *‘Don't go,” rose quickly to my Lipe. But to have said it would have been to dproclaim to Stapleton that he was simply bideous to look cpon. Here was @ subtla per- plexity. Which was more generous of the two: to say to a fricnd, * You are hideous;" or to let him go into sociely, for socisly fo take that view? On the ome hand, you burt his feelings; on the other, you hurt his success. On the ome kand, Jou make him miserabla ; on the other, you make him ridiculous. Oh! I give up the quostion. It is too profoundly esoteric. No fear for Stapleton ! If ever he commanded himself, bo did 50 on_that purple night. Evea Tho Beauty's eyes, when thoy caught Lis hair, drew fortl not one restless look. ~As though DORN IN¥ PTEILE, and spotted with mother-devices, he moved inta tie room, and swayed to and fro, With sccom- plished caso and grandeur. Tolaagh—no onocould Theladies, of course, gaw the joke in a moment. The uncle was pru- dently innocent. 5 + Take my niece down to dinner,” said tho un- cle to Stapleton. And they linked in purple in- tuition. At dinner, poor Btapleton talked—talked even better than ever. His art of investing the com- monest subjects with extravagant interest and hue waa new to the Iadies, and even to the ua- clo;it was eo exuberantly, vet nulurally, pored. Ho held himself in, with 3 modest distrus:; then burst forth with marvelous torrent. To talk is the king of all gifts ; o talk well, with modesty, most rare. Stapleton was the ouly talker whom 1 ever * met in my lifo who could-talk with extraordinary win- ningness, yec in perfect oblivion of self. ‘The conseqnence wae, before dinner was over the bair was totally forgotten. That hair might have been like a Highland plaid; Tartan, Camp- bell, or Cameron; the ladics would bave for- given the pailern fox tho sake of the brainy it covered. 'Tha Beauty feasted on his viords. T kuew that my reign was over! Dy the side of & man who could talk liko that, thers was nothing for me BUT THE COAL-CELLAR. Then, dinner being. ended, we sdjourned to the drawing-room ; and music was lord of the evening. _Now, I was more desperately in_ love—ten times—than even my purpled friend, 3lr. Staple- ton; and I could have slain him, I felt, on the spots but fcr pity and ehame on my part. The sunt extracted, while we sat together, all that I knew about him; and s very great deal it was. But I determined to be hngehly M3aguanimous ; sod, scofming the occssion for undermin- ing him, I Ifted him up on =a moou- ment.. .I. said he_was. good. he was, groat, he was loving. Isaid 1 hnd kmown him at school I said he. was a-model brother and friend ; in short, an_epitaph Lving. I ended with a spasm of infinite praise: ‘ Stapleton is the only man Ilnow.” “1 think he has dyed since first we easw him,” said the aunt, with painful composure * Have you any conception why 2" 2 - 1 arose #nd left her. Buat Stapleton, catching the words, turned round, and answered for mmself : ¢ Why sbould a man of 33 years of ag- dye bis hair & rich purple? Boconse he heatd Seventeen eay, ** What a remurkably handsoma man that must have boon—Dbefore his hair turned gray.’ 1 have paid mv first compliment to Seveu- toen in makisg myself ridicuious ; my next real compliment shiall ba TO UNDYE, and offer my age in homags."” _ This was £aid £o quictly, 8o withont presum tion, that no offense could be taken The woi wore addresged to the uncle, even more than to the listening ladies. Tho uncle, who was per- ~ foctly the gentleman, replied with admirable ease, *‘ You can afford 1o dye, orto lot it aloue. With so much inside your head, it eannot. pos- aibly matter what is oat.” pica ‘Why used I delay the reader’s patience, and pursus my parrative further ? In ten days'time, the hair was ~restored,” though not by Mr. Rossetor The old gray streaks came back to their rest, and Stapleton was himsolf once more. Ho never dyed again. But what, think yon, so- sued on that evening, and on the freak of dyeing the hair? Why this, that Seveatoen sdored Thirty-eight, and that I retired in shame. I confessed to Stapleton afterwards the whole of my malignsnk design, He freely, snd laughingly. forgaye me. *All is fairin love,” he said, ‘* even to make a man dye. I shauld bave died withont you; biat the weakness did me this service, that it enablod me to.pay my first compliment.” He eaid this just before he was married. We sti)l. walk sometimes_ in the Burlington Arcade, and look into the coiffeur’s windo:ws. Mra, Stapleton laughs when sbo eeos the dyes, and ey to me elyly, in & whisper, * It will svon be your turn to dy . Bue I reply that no lovely lady will ever say of me, a8 she adwires my f{ace-in a mirror, *‘ What a remarkably handsome man that must bave ggeg:l—befi)rs his hair tarned gray!”—London, ciety. —— MARY'S LITTLE LAMB. . From the San Prancisco Chronicle. A contemporary fires a Liast at ‘“a very dls- sgreeablo _clnas of correspondents,” who are constantly sending in familiaz .poems with the request that they may bo republished. We have iong boen ‘accustomed to this deacription of *literary persons,” and receivo an average of half-a-dozen communications per week from them asiing us to print copics of vorses -that are to be found in all the echool-readers. The Intést request of this kind comes from =n Oak- land subscriber, who wants us to pring *‘the beaatiful little pastoral about. Mary's Little Lamb. Not having the original at hand, we ara forced to quote from memory : Mary possessed a diminutive sheep, Whose external covering was as devold of color a8 tha congezled aqueous fluid which occastonally presenfs {naupmountable Larziers to rallroad-travel on the erras, Aud everywhere. ihat Mary peregrinated The juvenile Southdown was ccriain to get up and got right after her, I tagged her to the alphabet~dispensary one da; ich was in contravention of cstabliied usages; It caused the other youthful s.udents to cachinnate and skyfungle To perceive an adolcecent mutton in an edifics de- voted to the diesemination of knowledge. And g0 the preceptor ejected him from the fnterior; But L= continuad 10 roam jn ths immediate vicinity, Aud rezuained in the neizhborbood un:il Mary Once more becams visible. “Whsl causes the juveallo sheep to hasker sfter 31 5027 inquieitive children of thelr tutor, ry bestows much afiection upon the Httle tho wind is tempered when ahorn, you mist be aware,” ‘Tha precegtor with alacrity responded. JSlore 3bout Dogs. ‘We publiehed, several weeks ago, an interost- ing article on dogs, by the Rev, Dr. Prime, of the New York Observer. Iiis friends have fur- nished him other facts. The Doctor says Here i8 one of my oidest. readery, the Rov. O. Eastman, D. D., of th* American Tract Saciety, man of great wisdom aud worth. He writca to me: “ Dear Iexeus: Your dog stories in the Observer, which I have read with interest, re- wind me of my father’s old “Lyon,” who lived in Ambherst, Mass., more than eixty vears sgo. e was ons of the neatest, most amiable, and de- votional dogs I over knew. During the day he vras usually with the men in the field, and per~ fectly reliable to guard anything intrusted to his care. At night he was always allowed a posi- tion in the kitchen, but never trespassed upon any other rooms in the house. His favorite position was on the hearth bafore the wood fire. There ho would lie in the evening, with bis head to the fire, till the close of family worship, at 9 o'clock, when he retired to the wood-house for the night. As evidence of his special attontion to family worship, it was observed for years that, o4 the prayers wers drawing to a close, the 605 would rise in _his position before the fire, and turn round and walk to the door, asd stand there ready to go out as soon as the closing Amen was pronounced.” And now comes the Rev. 8amuel D. Burchard, D. 1., oneof tho most distinguished and suc- cessful pastors of this city. o bears his testi- mony, and then relates some interesting facts: “ Suicide from disappoinied afection, broken hearts and hopes in common, but have you ever heard of the suicide of & dog from tho eame, or a gimilar canse? L have known that very thing. Ho wasa brave and faiihful Newfoundlander, whose home overlooked the placid waters of the Mahopac, He was heroic as well as affectionate, and kad rescued many a child from drowning. At Jength Lis owner died, and the dog mourned Tor him miruy days, and would zot bo comforted, and doubtless fecling that hfe would no longer bo desirable without the presence aud caresces of his master, he went deliberatoly to the laka and drowned himself. Surely s man should be wiger than a dog! “e know that dogs howl, moan, and in varions ways express emotions of grief. But I was not aware that dogs literally shed lears until some years since. 1 officiated at the funaralof one of the mombers of my church, who spent the evening of her days at the charming country- seat of her son-in-law in Jersey. ‘Start’had become wonderfally attached, as everybody did, to his mistress, and when she was taken sick, ho would not be persuaded to leave ber chamber door, sud when she diod, he was at her bed-side; and during the fane- ral gervice he lay as a mourncr ia silent grief bofore her coffin, aud when she was borng away by nomerous friends to hLer burial, hs did not join the.procession, but siood on the perch gazing wistfully on the funeral cortege until ou: of aight, tears of unfeigned sorrow mean- whilo falling liko rain drops from Lis eyes. Poor Start ! he isdead. But be did not die un- til he had proved himsolf to be uo ordinary dog. Ounce he had buriedabone in a retired. spot on the premises for future use. A selfish and inferor dog saw the performance, and detormined to _ rescuo the bone from its biding place, and appropriate it to hia own use. ‘Start' had tlept away ignorantof ths mcan theft until the goawicgs of hunger remindel him of his buried treasure. Bat great was hus chagrin when he found _the hole had been dis- turbed, and his expected meal gone; but, sus- pecting at once the thief, he hastened to the bouse. and gave the pilfering whelp such a ca- nine drubbing as effectually to cure his propen- #ity to steel. Pity all plunderers, whether ca- nine_or human, Were not thus sammarily pun- ished. . *“Youhave told us of s dog's religious devo- tion, of his sectarian preferences, but I have to tell you of a dog’s zeal for bis master’s rightful religiona position in the familv. Iwaa spending: a night at the country-seat of one of my elders. The evening had passed very pleasantly in con- Vorsation, the house-dog being present snd spparently. amiable and interested. I wes invitod before rotiring to lead in family worship, To my reading, the dog took no exception; to my kneeling with the family, he assented; but the moment I assumed to be the priest, and head of that household, he demurred, and pouncad upon me with the nixncst violence, determined that his master shou!d occupy no subordinate position at tho domestic altar, and it was not until e wus forcibly ejected from the reom that we could proceed with our devotion.”