Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, April 19, 1874, Page 11

i GOING AEROAD. _A'dficé to People Proposing to Make 1 Buropean Trip prrapgements fiat Show'd Be Iade > tor tae Voyazes How One Should Act on Ship= ? board. ghe Worst Y7ay ond the Best Way to Sec Lurope. The month of April opens the summer-cam- sign of traval.. 6 18 With ws wa it s with tho Fogish of Chaucer’s day: * Then longen folk togon 0V pilgrimages.” And the Iecea or thoe Canerbury of {he American tou Japite of the nartowing of the formidzb ptic by sicamn, o great morstiil lingers about ke words, HGomNa ATRALD." <o the echolar and tl gific st libra roture, wonlariil pain ther mean admizable ore. hile, to the pleasare-seeker. they tuzgest ¢ the sparkling Soine and the arrouy Khodo, With Zours, ond Bordesux. and Boulogno, And desr, aelihtfal Paris!" Besides thesc, there is a class, larger than auy other, whodo not so muchcare to goe, 25 o sty that they hava eeen ; whoso desire is oot £o much to know, as to be thouglt to row. Modeme Lamber, in her eprightly little essay on “ Peaszins in Paris,” eays that ehe has fnown villagers who, without lands, or flocks, or Tioney, tose to high municipal positions on tho streagth of af ciglit deys’ visit to the Capital. So there havo been Americsns, withoud wit, yithont beauty, without wealth, who Lave ba- come orecles in society through a brief recidenco in foreigan land! Toro one docs Turore offer atiractions or possibilities 5o great a3 to THE AXERICAN. Set the antumn-winds will Liow homoward, in the verr same veasel, those who bave found Paris n bewitching gwen, Venice a fair enchan- iess, and Rome 2 mysterious, fascinaling old ¢ibyl,—whose vivid recollections of grand catho- 15, and euow-capped mouutaius, and lovely glleries, are enough to fill & lifo-time with Pessaat memorics; aud those who, on the other Lsnd, recall the Great Cspital ouly as o nestof sinaling shop-kecpers, Yevice as a network of Girty canals, and tho Eterngl City es o gloomy ¢l rwn, baunted by melerin,—travelers who conld suy, with our haudeomo young countrr- Sunsitting disconeolzte on the steps of the Semple of Jupitéson tho Palstine: *Ihaven't omn & happy minute since I loft bome!” The difarenco in lhere two expe-euces is thet of stainment in the great art of Dhilosophic Travel. ko Genins of Sicces-fal Travel, or tho Tatron of Tourists, if there bo sucha deity, oust len to perch on the sail of cach ontward- tound slip, end whisper into the ear of the ex- pectant voyagers. 1f we may judge from the condenced wirdom of returncd pilgrims, his connsels world Lo something lilie these: BEWAES OF DACOAGE. Itis 8 great misicke to spend the month be- fore Geparture in preperipg eiaborats wearing spparel. What the toarist really needs is a sub- stantisl suit for the voyage; a baudsome trav- eling-suit, not to be douned till e reaches the other side wf {he ocenn; aud & dress orevening guit for great cceavions, if he bappens io pos- gess one. '1f bie dues not -pocsess one, Lo would do Letter to go witlout, and Luz ono in Paris. Avoyage across the Atlantic, in favorablo weather, 18 one of the pl test oxperiences. Some little paws_taken beforehand to increaso §us enjoyments will bo well repaid. Wear, wheth- er it be m Jenuary orJuly, a_warm, rough suit, of water-proof or equa!ly’ substuntial material, which rea-water will 2ot too much deface. To this x gentleman way add_his winter-overcont and o cap fitting clesely to the hegd, defint of agualls. A lady’s dress siould be xhort as the ebortest English walking-dress, clearing the deck, and Dot entirely conecaling o vair of the best Ameri- 1an wallang-boots, of stout but soft avd plizbie Jeather, of the fineet finish axd adimirablo fit,— Ey which is meznt (ha* ticy should not ba & size $00 emall,—and should be worn & week befora Martiug, to insure perfect comfort on board whip. To theso & lads slould add a light. protty Bood for windy days; for sunay weatber, 1 Lat “athnot too wide & brim, and a thin, green veil. 3 18 on tho PR S A e T A 5 st subject of the dross of lady-tocrists, it oazht to Yo eid that it will make an immepse difTereaco in their healt, zud consequout enjoyment of the vorage, if the dress Lo MADE SPECIALLY FOZ TIL OCCASION, sod in aceordance not culy wiih the Lints given sbove, but also the following: The waist sbould Ye cither 8 Iocse pol-maize or & short jacket; it shoald allow ns perfecs freedom of lung and mo- Sion a3 that of &n Alpiuo herdswomas or 8 High- Issdgirl. Thera canuob be a fitter or prettier costume for an ogcan-irip tian a suit of dark rater-proof or flanact, mads with a Jooso blotge ; yurkish trousers fstoned at the kueo and fall- i over below it : over these, o skirt desceuding kg » tops of tic bootel: and a littlo Euglish waikin $-jrcket, with a goouly number of pockeis. The i, ter ought to contain. besides handicer- chiets, 8, uknife, @ needic-case, a button-hook, Voncilcate, #8d, if the owrer be blessed with Yterary cr ax, otic inclinations, a littls note-book. rersihing ou'® 12 Lisely toneed in a dsy npon Goch pushitobe always near at hand and ensily produced. It ma'kes @ great differenco whother Foo can put your 1. 'and in your pocket, teka ont ourneedlo-case, ana” FUplace the broken clastic ‘on your lat, siciing co ¥y 1 the sizclier of tho ‘mainmost, or whether 3.+lf Iousé crass tho deck inthe face of » blusteriug Yaly, sad totrer dovn the hatenway to bunt uy kewing pistesdals from our state-room. For asimilar reason, all gar- ments worn on ebipLoard ought to be such es wo easily adjusted, should bution, or hook, OF tia readily, and be indeperdsut of pics, as far ©8 possitle. ' Above all, for the eight or ten day¥ in which you are at the mercy of winds and waves, LET NATCRF RULE. Disesrd_Tate, cushions, e3, ct id omne enus, and wear the bair in the simplest braids, bfi.ing dowa the back, or coiled arouud tho So prepered and equipped. the fair tourist mey with ease and expedition make her simple toilet o3 that trying morning after embarkation, when stk fandsmental principles of motion and, of geneation seem undermived. So arrered, sho sy climb lightly and wiihout essistavce to tho ‘breezy deck, walk its sweying planks, with a. tolerably-steady step, in the face of s vigorous® low; or lean over (ho how, and Tfeel the great Gcean pinnge and rear beneath her, liko o wild eteerunder bis rider. Thus happily upon her scafering life, he may amuso herself Fith the procecdings of ber less-sensible sisters. Theze are fow sights more tempiiag to the satir- iftthan 5 woman attempting a pall-room coiffure inadizzy state-room; clamberiog awkwadly up the recling hatchway, impeded by flowing gar- Ments aud cumbrous wrappings ; and endangor- ingher own footing, snd that of others, by trail- ing robes, which &weep tho wet deck, drenched 7 8 recent shower. : . i advico to ocenn-travelers culminates in BTAY ON DECE. U rensickness can Lo provented, that s tho only chanee of a preventive; if iz caunot, there tllone can it he cured. A sca-voyage is more of Arhysical test and trial than is commonly sup- vosod, Its effect on the healih is geuerally con- “%ded to be excellent if you vanquich the sea- *vickness ; it iy far otherwizo if the sickness van- qush you. Light or tan deys of perfect misers, #pent in & cromiped litile cell or a close cabin, without food aud without employment, leave “iaind and body in & stata not fo bo desired. But tendsyain the open aircan seldum be spent without permanent benetit, especially to s peoplo 10 housc-Ioviug ae ourselves. Tho yoyager will find himgelf weil rownrded for ile daily tcrture 3 the effort 1o Jeave bis berth and gain the open 4eck; aud the cutes aro very few where s day or oot life there will mot destroy his painf €ensations, aud enzble lumto enjoy the scene around him. L People will often take & great many pains to lect books for the voyage; eome will even I8y out a course of reading or stady to occupy tbe - time, and ladies will provide kuiiting, and that . vecult employment known as ** tatting,” to pre- vent any possibility of vacaut moientsor folded All which is a great mivuse. Iiis well 1o bo idle at times,and the croesig of the fcean is ORI 28 W S RANGR A5 VW 055 A stk b e e M M i a1 Y - sy . OXE OF THOSE TIMES. To the tired American,—:nd slmost every erican past the aga of 16 is touched with ic Weariness,—this brief reign of laziness Iyric temples ;- is a real Tere the great rushing whecls of Reutine ave stopped. ‘Tleschooland charch bali ring no more; the stock-market aud ex- change ceaso to attract our unrm%iea;; the exactions of housrhold care are unfelt for o sea- son. In the ehadow of the mnainmast or fromo thoitering sail, on your improsised couch of ,Seoteh sLawls, unreproved you may sit or Lis the wholo long, dreamy doy. You can watels the grout waves como swimming fiercely on, liko wudor the keel ; vou can e clondd and the figns of Dits of seuw, with ihe vatrices of winds and You will £co tho rain come on oud ty with the dotails of theso frequent plicnome- nn. The spray will dash ivto your face, aud re~ Vive you a8 with & now baptism. Yoz will etudy the wa nd mako zcquaintance with pozpoi A snip on Lhe vergo of tho Lorizon, aud an iceberz that hus fuct it way, will make & marige view for you far surpassing ihoso of Bradford. . You will walk the deck at night, end learn moro of the napect of the constclations than books might teach you in years; and you will watch the long linos of phosphorescent light in tho track of tho keel, or falling off_like stars from tho lines wlich thc sailors drawnp in soundings, So will gradually grow upon you THE GHARM AND TSE MYSTERY of the sca. If the very grandear of this at titncs oppress you, and vou turn for rolief to books, pruy do not let them be Herbort Spencer, or Iuxley, or Gatriel Roveiti’s pocms. Letthem be, weterd, o frech, bright novel with a spice of romavee: * Quits. or ** Cousuclo,” or Madawe Sattou's inimiiable ** Weekin a French Country- Touse” Then, care-worn business-msn, tired i cher, exbansted dovotee of fash- 10 stir of powers paralyze ik of use. So thoe jaded wii will_suatel o Laef respite, and walio up rcreated by the imo tho sliores of Ireland como into view. The next warning, shich ought to bo written with red letters in the traveler's note-boois, i8: I nTa! Leavo hehind you all petty notions of aristocra- ¢y and cxcligiveness, born of village atmos- phercs and small neightorhoods; cease to bo ik nutocrat- of & township or a city-squaro; forget that you are college-professor, millionaire, deacon's wife, descendant of Plymouth Rock; bo simply man or woman. Everybody has had & laugh %" the treditional Englishman who could ot save o_man from drowning becauso bo had not been introduced to Lim; but that insulax Briton was not a Whit mofe ridiculous than scores of travelers who, thrown into a miscel- lancous _company. of passengors, omit tho aud fitt:o courtesies nnd kinduesses which ther aro accustomed to render in their own circle, Lecauso thoy do'not know the names or social siatus of tho poople who stand in'nced of them. ‘Tho adrantages of 4 trip (o Europe aro not so much the seaing of historic places and fino art, & toe brordening of the mind consequent upon eing the world vn alarge scale. Lifeis grouter than thought ; 50 much greater is his profit who takes this opportunity to koow mon and women of all ranks, educations, and character, than his who travels iron-clad, as it wore, in reseve, and fears to offer you his glaes, on the summit of Vesuvius, lest you should not pass muster a8 an acqumictance m tho arietocratio strects of Chat- ham Four-Couiers. Agsin, tho traveler will increaso his pleasure and protit ton-fold if be will leave his dignity nudl amour propre at home, and dare to bo hat- ural, TO DE A NOVICE. It is countrified to look into windows, thioks tho American metropolitan ; 20d so he passes by the glittering displaye of tho Luo do Rivoli and tho Toulsvards with tho assumed ivdifferenco of & Yequot or & Sominole, uutil Lo finds thas all the ‘orld are looking into shop-windows, and each too well occupied to observe bis neighbor. The worst way o ses Europe is the F’otiphars’ way: Togo toa grand hotel, and pay extrava- gant prices for tho pleasuro 0f living amidst b throng of one’s own conntrymen ; sallying out under the guidance of interested or ignorant commissionaires ; coming upon nothing by sur- prise ; seeing and hewing nothing of the real lito nod mauveza of tho peopla of the conntry. Tho other way is to take board in BOME QUIET PENSION, frequeuted only by the nativcs of the place, or, Letter still, in_some family of limited income and sccommodating disposition. The little Dleasures und amusoments which & ¥ery reason- able command of money will enable you to offer your hosts or neighbors will be amply repaid by your thus acquiring the pleasantest and most.in- iclligent of puides,. You will thus obtain an in- fido ratlier than an ontside view of tho country. You will seo the people at their firesides,—at their daily occupations; hear their real wonil- ments; and so attain a better idea of ibem than ages of botel-lifo wonld afford you. .If.you are wise, you will essay their langusge on every oc- easion ; you wall plunge boldly ino your subject, ~wreckless of Robertson and Ollendorfy, and act. ths ezamplo of lsughing at your own mistakes, Tias you will es§pe tha polite hypocrisy of Hattery, and sccure the merricst of companions ood teachers. This is the artist’s way; and, for delightfal adveuturs and solid acquisition, thero is nmo way comparable to it. If you aro far from wealthy, you will have the satisfaction of sceing your moncy go a grest wav... If you are rich, you will have 8o much more to invest iu works Of art, and you will be ablc to purchase from iho nortists themselves, and thus not ouly obtain their works at lower prices, but experience thesatisfaction of enriching the original suthors, rother than brokers and .picture-dealers. The. Tavish expenditure of money does not command respect or deference in Europe.. It is thought to indicate THE PARVENU OR THE FOOL, and will not gecure as good atiendauce or opin- jon as the customary prices, promptly ascertain- edand paid. Tue Amencan who cannot live in Furope in comfort aund enjoyment upon much Jess than it wouid cost him in the United States, dood 1ot ko how to reside abroad. Ho is till baunted by that deceptive phantom which de- gtroys 8o much of peace and comfort here; and which we call * Style.” » In America, 8 host of ressons, which every native pnderstands, make it next to impossible for the sancated citizen of good standing to fre- quent any but first-class hotels. But in Europo here re in every city eecond-class houses, clean, comfortable, of good -repute, and excel- Tont as to cookery, which differ from the grand hotels oniy in the utter abscnce of -displsy and Iuxury ; and these the intelligent tourist will do well to patronize occasionally ; he will often gain in pometliing else besides in pocket. Finally, * Whatever you_ do," whispers our Mentor fo the roving Telomachus, us Sairey Gamp to Mrs. Harris, 1 $EEP COOL, UXRUFFLED, PHILOSOPHIC,” Taking vour pleasure at all times 1 perfect good-humor,— : ¢ Which 13 an excellent thing that you'll understand when yon'se traveled, - Seen Recreation dead-beat and cross, and. lesrnt what & turden Frescos, for ipstance, can be, and, in general, what an afilictiop Lifo is apt to ‘masters.” No information or advaniage can compensate for £ho wear and tear of mind and body which eome people undergoin tho attempt fo“do” Turope systematically, after the -mapner laid down in the guide-bogks. Art and Beauty will ot alwass yicid up, théir treasures at & stern Fommons of *Stacd and Deliver!” But, stroli- become among the antigues and old | of kindly nature. ing sbout in a gevial mood, you may como sud- Henly npon them and surptise their secrot. Take timo to eat, to sleep, to rest, to enjoy. But, in order to' do this, bobware how you choose YOUR TRAVELING COMPANIONS, -y Tne party ought not to bo large; it is too dif- e o mmove. to assemble, 10 harmonize its Dembors ; but half the pleasare and profit of Jour trip depends on their individual charactera and dispositions, It does not muck matter what {heir intellect, their cuiture, gxmlr regources; them be essy-tempercd, loyal-hearted, P Ily thu,vpe;ra Bef);-as?erring, ogmatic, intolerant; if they care more to prove s tight way than to help You to be Lisppy in yours; if they scorn the liftle courte- gias of life; if thoy make an idol of & certain Sartinei-lilie precision, aud tbink it a worse matter to mies & train than to betray & friend,— than, no matter what virtues tbey mayv mw& Tourn of them, wotk with them, die fur them, you will,—bat don’t travel with them. A8 TO ufl.v(;lz-afixs, 1 e and Harper will do well enough to o o, 10 revivo Listoric ovents and dases; but, for o portable, proctical manual, to Qse a8 you approach & city, to give you the char- Beteristics and prices of tho principal Lotel, tho fare of convoyances, and & thousand little things Tich one, landed suddeuly on terra incoguits, Deeds to know ; to tell sou what to see, and how %0 see 1t, nog only 28 o prince, but as a common- or, an artist ; to gcrve as the traveler's faithful Sd uassuming fricnd,—DBaedeker i8 wortl all the others put together. In short, our Mercury's dvice to toarista is very happily evitomized in 1he words of the old German, Philander von Sit- tewald, writien 220 years 8go, which may be thus roughly translated : Who means in other lands to roum 3Must a good listener beg Must walk with even steps and free,— Not weight himsclf too beavily ; Must at the dawn rise cheerfully, d leave his cares at home. = CranvEes LANDOR, —_— ——— _Ttis sure signof an esarlyspring to see & cat iyt;;uy watching o emall hole in tho wall. ROBEZRT COLLYE Reminiscences of the Early Life of. the 3 Koted Chicago Clergyman, His Home.in England---His Father and ; fiother. an Old Yorkshire Letters to i Friend. Moneure D. Conwcayin Harper's Magazine for May. Once mpon o time & gentleman drew up his Thorso near asmitly in & Yorkshire village (k- loy). “On entering it, ho hardly arrested the at- tention of & boy who sccmed to be absorbed in tho worl of blowing the bellows. Closer ob- servation revealed tho presence of & book—its pugzes kept open by two bits of iron—placed on a sholf near tho ‘lad's” head. Each timo he brought down the bellows or released if, he secmed to catch a gentencs from tho boolk. THE AKVIL. A generation passed awny. The little -village had grown to bo = brilliant town. Low-thatch- od houses had made way bofore fine mausions, aud the smihy i which the above incident was observed was drawing near to its day of disap- pearance. But before that day arrived another gentleman appeared at the door, and inepected with some intorest an aovil standing in the cen- tro of the shop. : ‘“How long has that asked of the blaokemith. “ Why," eaid the workman, ‘it must have been here thirty or forty year.” #Well,” gaid the gentleman, I will give you twice a3 much for that anvil as will buy you & Dew one.” “ Certainly,” replied the puzzled smith ; * but I would like to know what you want with this anvil.” I will tell you, Therewas formerly an ap- prentico in this shop who used to work on it. That boy has now become & great man. Thou- sands love and honor him as 8 friend and & teach- er, and I wish to carry back this anvil a8 o me- morial of the humble boginning of his Life.” ‘The bargain was completed, aud the anvil is now w Cuicago. A FANOUS AMERICAN ORATOR. Bomg years later yet it wus, edvertived in the same town that & famons American osator wonld lecture there. The subject of his lecturo was to bo- tho history aud antiquities of Iiklev. The fino hall was thrown open, and it was over- crowdéd. Many could not enter. The lecturer took up the siory of that plece at ils ecarliest date. He clotued with meaning tho old stoues which still retained traces of barbazic ages. He called up the armed Romans who lived there more than 1,700 years ago. - Ho revealed to the itilest lounger in the bezutiful vale treasurcs of his- tory and legend lying atl around bim. e made pass before them “the knightly men and the fair Wwomen who had passed sloug thase plersent rosda in the long procession of ages. Ho dis- played & wealth of bhietoric learning, and wove anvil been hero?” Lo -their - tak’ a turn, s of his father. * ITonever ed me but once—for striking my sister—and then cried be- cauee I would not yell, begged my pardon, gave ‘me sixpence, and 100k mo t0 a grand * tuck-out’ ot a club dirner, which was €0 good that I would have taken another thrashing for the like.” At the age of 14, son and father parted, Eo far =8 daily work was concerned, mfl the boy wns Bet to take the first steps of bhisown ({:u!‘l:c‘l" in the workshop of lus father's old nend. . THE FOUR BOYS. Amonz the humble lzborers st Ilkley there _were in those days four whoko minds wore 2bun- geved for kmowledgo: John Dobson, Jobn Hobson, Ben Whitley, and Robert Collrer. “Yhede four resolved to plume their wings to- gother ; thoy were wont to it togcthor and reed at nignt so long 88 their tallow-candle held out. They rend good books to0; geverally tho best English _ reviews. Each of theso was con- stantly ~puttivg - ont his feelers among his ucqusintances to borrow n book, and Tosonrces being clubbed togother, they were raraly witbout 8 good book toread. Thay read aloud, and in turns. Any holday thoy had was passéd in the ficlds, rending, aud tho parson got only the dismalBuudaye, tho Dright ones being passed in o larger temple. “I can hear uow oue of us taying, * New, Bob, theo ' gaid J obm Dobson, with Just a littlo quaver in his honest voico. Tour reading in the Yorkshire ficlds—but ono of them the world has heard of: Bo many blogsoms to ono ripe fruit. . . . John Dobson pointed me out tho exact spot whore Coliyer nsed to it and read for houra together. ** When Le first came,” said he. * Le wias about 13 years of ago. As b grew I very” soon pexceived that be was an unusually clever boy, end used to follow Lim about, though “was older. Ho didn't talk eo very much, nor did I ever wotico so much bLis bu- mor and love of fun; . he was grove and sober. When he got older I used to notico that he had & remarkable way of saying things. If there was anything much talked about in the villago— sy conirovetsy betweon Catholics and Erotes- tants—ho used to pat the whole thingina forw words. He saw through and through it in amo- ment. And sometimes in thinking over his re- marks, I remember- thinking that I didn’t know where it wonld end. Ho scemed to e rather too big for Lis place.” _THE NLACKSMITH PLEACHLI. Tnfortanately, when Collyer bewan preaching in ihe littloMethodist chapel (whick still stands), John Dobson had left the village for & tine, and he beppeved never to Lave Leard bim prench.’ Norcould I find a single person who Lad ever heard him preach, I could only get reports of hia® preaching ot sccond-hand. One who used to hear him sccmed to remember his proyers more vividly than bis_ser- mong, and had told my Informant, “Whea Bob Collyer was called on to prog, e Loew wo should Do all erving bofore he got throogh.” The1e scems to huve boen some sensation about Lini, however, a3 they used to send out the vil- lage crier with o bell to proclaim that the vil- Inge. blacksmith would presch that evening.” Iiis motber remembered o woman whom ehoe new telling her that she had beon altracted to . tho Methodlst meeting-houso by this sououcce-. ment, sud expressing hor surprise when eho found the preacher was Bob. * Ho got on vory’ well indeed.” ‘Tho mothcr nover heard him, ounly becauso sho did not reside in likler, and- Robezt ook no pains to sarmount this ditticulty. He usod to ray that if his mother should como in while ho was preaching, Lie was suro heshould stop ehort. The clange which Collyer’s religions opin- jons had undergone in Aerica did not in tho least affect the love und esteem wtich his old friends und relutives felt for him. the threads of the pretent 8o artfully upon the warp of the past, interapereing anecdotes sperk- ling with humor or touched with pathos, thes the sudienco went away with new eyes, and Ukley woke up next dsy to find itsclf famous. But among those who listcned to that wouderful lec- ture there were few who kmow that the orator had once studied his book while he blew the bel- lows in the dismal smithy whick still marred their street. And when ho handed back the con- siderable procecds of the lecture, with & request that the money skould be given to the town hos- pital, but few could counect the incident with a ooty 1ad laging one Linrd-carncd penny upon an- otber in order tbat he might presently havo enoush to buy o eecond-hand book at some way- side stall. The orator had given them new eyes tosee oversthing arouud them excopt the p turesque beauty of his own life. Only bis hum~ ble origin he disclosed, not- Lus victories. The doors of luxurious homes flew open to him, but _ho proferred tho poor tenement of his old friend John Dobson, by whose side he used to it read— ing when tlio smithy firo sank ‘dowd in the even— iDg, nnd the flamo of aspiration glowed on, his. eart’s burning pillar leading to nnknosn prom- ised lands. THE ELOQUENT INON~WORKER'OF GERJANTOWX. It was in the height of the old Fremont cam- aign that the writer hereot sffended & Repul- ican meeting at Germantown, Pa., where a num- ber of eminent persons .wera .edverticed to ad- dross the public. Thero was 2 Seuntor, a8 I ro— member, and one or two famous speskors, and they drew togethor as many people as tho little Toom could hold. When thie advertisod speakers. had concluded, and received their various meas- nres of .;:leu, tho sooty workingmen present. began to clamor nosily for some one whose .name I conld not catch. After some whispering ‘on the platform, and more calls from below, there aroso & stalwart man, apparently freelr from the forge, and yet rather less sooty than his comrades, who bégan in a somewhat shy way to give bis views of tho political sit- uation. The crowd evidently . knew the value of their man, and lstencd breath- lessly to -Lis' slow, strong, openiog sen- toncas. He apoke with & decided English sccent, and he gpoko like » man accustomed to spesk i public. Tho first thing notable in what ho snid was that half-shrowd, balf-child like’ way of ex- E:;smuu which ono often finds in Scotchmen. is humor.was from the first overflowing, broak- ing out on all sides ; but st this day I remember sull more the passages of tender feeling, the simple, sympathetio touches with which ke brought the lLife of the slave before. us, and the | gront-hearted bumanity_ which pervaded _the whole speech. It scemed to me the Senator and oo famous speakers might as well huvo scaid at ; ome. 7 It must have beecn six or seyen years after this that I went to live in the \West, and ' there heard and read every dasy eomething about the great prencher who had turned up rather surprisingly in Chicago. After long dosiring to sce and hear this Kobert Coll- yor, I wasat length gratitied; but grost was ‘my sstonishiment at finding in him the eloquent jron-worker of Germantown—Robert Collyer. Horw that transformation took place, what pain- {ul studies and brain services preceded it, are too well known in America to require repetition here. What I have to say concerning bim refers o years in which there wore no plaudits from erowds to cheer him on, and no great cities or ‘battle-fields receiving tho bounties of his heart and band, and vocal with bis-fame. They were' yenrs, nevertheless, which have n lustra of thoir ovn.. It hss been my happiness to know the' man of whom I vrite a8 a riend; to abide un- der the same roof with'him, to travel with him, to ronm with him by the sea-shore and amidst crowded streots; I have read his writings and listened to his eloguenco; I have watched his .career in America, and Lave witnessed his ora- torcal triumphs bore in the cities of Lis native Iand ; but now that I have como to know tho story of Lis life a8 & poor lsd in Yorkshire, L ventura to think that he will never be able to preach a sermon or write & volume so impress- ive a8 the plain facts of bis own life. .- . . . TROBERT COLLYEL'S FATHES. For Robert Collyer's father, this iron-work was o etop upward. . Hia life wis #o_character- istic of tho hardy English stock that I must give 2 fow lines about it. About his esrliest memiory was that of standing in a vast crowd in London, which awaited the arrival of tho dead hero of Trafalgar. But the lad and bis mother were looking out for & dearer face than thst even of Neluou, for there had gone out with the great Captain the father and husband. Butinstead of the brave satlor, there camo the tidings that bhe Tad been swept overboard into_the sea, &nd was drowned. And then the mother died. Little fam —~the elder Collyer was always called “Little Sam"—made his way to the poor-house, told his story, and wis kindiy cared for. In the work-housze he did so mauy things, and eo cleverly, thot they were loth to part with him when the 1nanufacturers came from Yorkshire to find hands. He wes ouly 9 whon he traveled away to the norih country. He was placed under & smith namea Dirch, & Jind-hearted man, who always used to lesve o bit in lus can for " Littlo Sam.” This was the game man who afterward became the master of Robort at Likley, in whose armsé ho died. Coll- Yor Sonior was ono of the handicst workmen ever known in Yorkshire, and whazever could be Gone in iron he could do. He was helpful to bis noighbors, and if sny ane was down with a fever, however infectious, Sam was sure to be by his side. Ho was slwoys . busy, and ~very activo,—able to clear fhe lighest gate in tho mnoighborhood. Hoe was religious, in his way, too, used to_ give out the hymus and strike the tunes, and teach in the Sunday-school. He was not much of a scholar, howover, and it is said that whenever Lo came tc 2 hard word in any book be used to call it **Je- rusalem” and pass on, He loved his drop of beer and his pipe, and used o take his children on tong walks of a Sunday. _Finally, in 1844, he dropped down dead at hig anvil. ‘Bobert has always retained pleasing recollec- “T can't go all the way with him,” sail John Dobson, * though certainly my own views have been considerably moditied from what they used to be. But I certainly think mcre of Robert and his new faith than I do of many orthodox people I kaow who have nong of his humanity.” BOBERT COLLYEL'S MOTHER. The mother of Collyer in earlier days attended tho parish church, but now goes to the Daptist clupel. “It 1sono of tho pleasantost things to me about Robert,” she said, *that he hes warm friends in meny denominations. Not long agoa eeuucmnu called on me from Canzda; ho was & Vesleyan I»te:\chcr, but eaid that neversheless Robert Coliyer was the best friend b had in the World." It had beeu a deep gratification to the venerable Iady, as well o3’ to her danghters, to hear bim when he preached in Leeds, and the question of his theology had cvidently nover dis- turbed them. I found Mrs, Collver residing with her gon-in-law, Mr, John Shirez, of Leeston Hill, near Loeds. She 1s a blonde, beantiful old lady of about 77, with a gentle blus eye, anda cer- tain play of hamor about cye and month which Joft me at no loss Lo know whore ber son got his love of fun. Her voice was clear and kind, and ber mapner in receiving an old friend of her son most. cordial. *¢There is not very much to tell sbont his early life. We know nothing sbout his father's family oxcept that Robert’s grandfather was killed in tho battle of Trafalgar &3 ono of Nelson's sailors. My parents died when I was a chiid. 3y husbend was a black- smith, earning 18 shillisgs & woek—the usual wages at that timo. Robert was bora at Keigh- ley, thongh our home before and after was Elub- | berkouse. My husband had o difference with his employer abont _wages, and went sway to " for tho aborigincs of bet colonics, and thas state- Mr. K has done with them. I read that [ar- ticlo] on Australia through, and well I hled it. It i » noLle exposure of the wrongs and oppres- #ions of tnoge £0vS of the soll, and a clevor de- fengo of tloir right to the land which gave them Dbirth. Poor degraded clildren of the wilds! tho time will come, but not, Ecflmps, till your race has passed away from the earth, when Britain will blush to read, and wish it was blotted out from tuo page of history, that fire-siaer and the musket were mado to do the work of civilization trickery and chicane ehould iute: fere to hurt the iutereats of men over whom they hava no right but that of might.” 4 Lobert Collicr was marricd oa one day, and on +tho day following started for America. From the hour he started he began recording for his friendsj his experiences, which covtain much good deseription snd humor. . . . COLLYER AND SLAVERY. The noxt letters show that Collyer has plenty of work on his hands, not ounly iron-work at Chelienbam, but prenching to do. Somo people in Philadelphia wish him to devote himself to preaching against the Catholics for $1,000 year. Ho cannot eeo his way clear for this, pmmm{umms thero Las aiready loomed up before him an enemy of auotber elnpe that be is eager to be ai. He has siready begun to preach against elavery, and got the horneis around him; or, as it is expressed in ono of theso letters, * That old cant knocked to pieces by the Ironeides 200 years ago—that a minister ought not to meddie 1 politics—rovived all over the country, and touched me.” It was, indeed, o8 the writer hereof tappens Lo know, o pretty vigorous touch,” for somo authoriiy tried to {urn him ont of the church wheid he Was preaching with effect, but tho stewards und tho peuple gatuered arouud bim, aud maintainod Tim in lus place aud lberiy. Ie becomes at once promument in the )yceum, aud thero gather around him many workmen o hear his stories of the Old World. Ho also travels about o great deal to prezch and lccture, but feels that he cares mors for tha cause of the slave than for the old creed. What changes Lis opinions are undergoing he describes to his old Yorkshira friend by saymng that he is **almost porsuaded tobo & Chnstian!™ The significanco of which remark may be gathered from what follows it in tho same lettor, dated Nov. 3, 1858, “XNo doubt,” ho writes, *you studied tho recoxds of your great ravival last winter wilh in- terest. 1f thutcan be a repentanco unto life where tho penitent still Lolds on to lus slave like grim death, and would rise from bis kuecs to tar and feather any minigter who should dare to say that slavery was_a sin to bo instantly ro- ponted .of, they hsd a glorious revival in ‘thy South, in which our charchcs fra- ternized. If- that was the kindling of & firo from heaven in the great public balls of our cities, whero thouseuds met every day to exbort and pray, under notices placarded that fortidden eubjects ahould not be Introducoa (slavery being the principal), where no prayer was offered for tie £lave whon it could be prevented, and a Tequest for such prayer ie- fused, then we bad a revival North. Batit left” the grea: national sin and danger ustouched, and I took mo part in it. How you would have .loved Dr. Iyng! He was o young mivisier in the Episcopal Gharch, who took public ground in his puipit for fréedom; was siopped in the midst of his sermon; his chwch divided; Le illed ono of our ireut halls every Bundsy after that, but was taken saddenly wway by an acci- dent a ehort time sgo. It secmcd to Ine the whole city mourned Lim.” . . . X I question whether. after all, it is best to wait until o man is desd beforo we set him in Lia right placo among his bistoric compeers. - Cer- tam I am that tho troe pulpis or platform from which some men havo 2 right to be heard is that of their past Jives. Theso may be exceptional persons, but among them is tho man of whoze early lifo, passed o far from the eceno of his present labors, I Lave boen writing. WHY THAT OLD GESTLESLT DABD. Messrs. Ginger & Pop, thoss estimablo re- freshment contractors, write to me (very cisilly Cwill admit, and with & case contsining two dozen pints of Messrs. Wachter & Co.’s extra dry champagne—which I have sent to the Hyper- borean Dispensary for Discases of the (Esopha- gus—accompanying their polits noto) to say that they have no kind of b at the Charing Cross Station of the Underground Ruilway, and that consoquently s young gentleman namod Saxor, Iate of H. L. 130th Foot, could nover have got into trouble at their non-existens refreslment: room for non-payment of asoda-and-b. I bog Mossra. Ginger & Pop'a pardon with all my heart. At the esmo time, T may bo permitted to observo that there aro 5 great many modes opon to mo for explaining away the sceming blunder. When, '=over, I come to add that I have re- ceived ecveral reama of pouny-post lotters, and sbout half & hundred weight of post-cards, all asking me in terms, now of anger and now of sffection, now of bowildermen £ and now of deri- sion, why that Littloold gontloman in tho drab hat and the long, green overcont, and with the cusly wig and the goldsimmed spectacles, should have paid for Charloy Snxon's rofreshment st tho Keighley, where Tobert wes born, but ho wes onl§ nino days old when iy employer sent for my husband again, and we went back to Blubber- house, whero my son wae clristencd, and whicl is tho only early home he remembers. My hus- band was Zo: much of a reader, 2nd_we bud in our houee only four books—the Bible, Bunyan's “Pilgrim's Progress,” the * Young Man’s Com- panion,” and ** Kobinson Crusoe.” lobert went to tchool in ali four years to aman at Fewston nam- od Willie Hardio. Willie was not perbaps o scholar, and took to teaching beeause he had lost the uge of bis legs and couldn’t do oy other work. Robert went to see him when - he camo boek from America. Hardie 18 still living. That four years—between his fourth and eighth years of ago—wns all the echooling he over had. Ho soon learned Lo read,’and ho 8oon knew our four books by heart. Thenho laid up every penny ho conld, rod bought one or o other books ; among them, 1 remember, was **Sanford Au .Merton,” which he very much liked. Dut his Tavorite books were the Biblo and * Robinson Crusoc.” He was always reading when bo wea pot working. I pever remember & meal in which bo did not, bavo a book _open o tho table, rosd- \ing while ho ate. Ho wonld get o lostin his ‘book that if we wanted him for any thing wa Dhad to call out, ‘Robert!"” ~The old: Jady sccompanied’ this doscription with! a little dramatic action; buoi fearing I might think her son bad to be Toprimanded. sho added, delicatoly, *But we didn't cull crossly. I never hadto speak sharply to Robert—nover—nor, indeed” (with a fond' look cast at her d:\ufihtcr) “to any of my chil- dren. Robert was always a datiful son, and did his part well by us.” 1t was extremely pleasant to ece this nged 1ady surrounded by Ler children and grandehil- “dren, taking her cup of comfortablo tea. Ontbe Ltile parlor wall, over the mantel, was & large photogriph of the Clicago proacher, snd be- peath 1t his mother, intertwined with & continu- ous wrecth of green. LETTLRS FROM COLLYER TO JOXY DOBSON. T bavo before mo a bundle of old lotters writ- ten to John Dobson, tho man whom Coliyer most loved, and, thoogh there is much iu them that must be roserved as tho treasure of friendship, there are other things that may be copied hero 2 illustrating the growth of the poor Iikley boy into the author and orator of Chicago. In the eerliest letters, which are dated from Ilkley in 1345, at wluch timo_his friend sppeass to bave: becn absent, there is ovidence of s vers careful ! reading of the roviows, chicfly tho Edinburgh and North Brilish. Speaking of two reviews of Tytler, who hed charmed him, he says that, tlough they wers full of eloqueuce and wit, their higher charm lay “in the deop knowledge (he reviewer possessed of the obscure parts of Scottish Listory, and the power ho had over the whole; the easo with which ho exposed tho falsehoods—willful or otherwiso—of his suthor ; and the perfect ease with which ho guided men out of the shoals into the deep watera of truth.” Already be is looking up and questioning the silent stars: 415 {here o spot within your radiant sphere Whers truth, and hope, and love siain may dwell ; Where we may scck tho Test we find Dot Lere, Aud clasp the cherishied forms we loved so well? ” TLKLEY, Feb. 23, 1816.—* I have been cugaged to o gentleman at s, Parrait's Lo sit, read, and tali with bim after I have dope my work. He gives me .1e. 6d. per week, and1if ho was to turn over and -ask me.to give him something for lettiug mo -come, I -should be tempted to comply. Ho is 6o good-natured, and such an enthufiast for books, that I farrly like the man. s mind i3 not either so strong snd deep or 50 broad as some I know, bat he does not require that a beautiful or striking thought should be cut and filedto fit his skuli, or hammered in, and &0 marred, which ia more than Lcan say of any other of my literary companions since you, my dear friend, left m. Iread himthe ¢ssay on ecclesinstical mirncles, and tho first half of Carlylo, and he was famcasly plzzsed with them Toth, He waa better abl tc appreciatetho first; crhups, than me, for he hes traveled througlt {taly 204 Franco in company with the rovivalist, Caughoy. He has been ‘engagad this morning giving me from memory specimens of Caughey's sermons and convereations. 41 had oot time to go through the North Brit- ish Review, for which 1 was rather sorry: an- other timo will perhaps repair the breach. after Charing-Cross bufiet, and thus havo rascued him from i ¥ ¢ THE DIRE DILEMMA in which he was placed, tho meiter becomes much more serious. There is a mystery, and I mast explain it. The strangely impulsive gen- erosity, 88 it scemed, of that old gentleman de- mands elucidation in & sequel to “ At the Bar.” Of course, Charley ws profuse in his ex- pressions of gratitude towards the little old gentleman,” who received these protestations with amere * tut, tut !” adding that it was ono of the most natural things in tho world for a voung gentleman such 28 he (our hero) evident- Iy was to bave his pocket. picked. * And I dare suy,” he continued, his bead on one sido, and with u very arch, nof tosay cunning, exyression twinkling throush his go Id-rimmed spcetacles. “that it 150’ the first time in your lifs you've been cleaned out, my young friend.” Mo looked, ander (hess circumstances, £0 re- markably like an ovl in an ivy bush—I grant tho dissimilarity of costumo, but it is the expreseion that does it—that Charléy fancied for s moment that ho mast bo not on tho Thames embankment, butin tho keep of Arundel Castle. “I shall havo to pop something else befora T can pay him.” tho ex-subaltern thought, ruefully enough, a5 he asked tho question. * My unclo will get tired of taking in tronsers Text, I suppose ; aud thon I ehell Lave to spout my boots. and after’ that T shall bhave to haag myrelf in-my braces.” - here was, scomingly. no mysterious reticence about the little old gentlemnn, and Lo was prompt in his reply. **Ilive in Good-Gracious strect, just over tho water,” he eaid cheerily, “pnd’ we'll go_thero. this very minute. Hi, Hansom!” And with a green silk umbrelia of bulgy ontline he hailed one of tho gondoliers: of Fondon, who was cravling with his vehicla ection of West- zlong tho embankmont in the munster Bridge. = #BUT I MAVEN'T RREAKTASTED,” quoth Charley, eomewhat embarrassed. 4 That's just it. I3aven't breakfasted myself. Never can get up an appetite till 'vo taken a trot over from the Surrey sido to £ec how many peo- Ie get their pockets picked nt Chrring Croas. ices you, tho average is sometlung tremcn- dous!™ Thus tho little old gentlemsn. " Bnt T have not tho honor—," tho perplex~ ed ex-aubaltern murmured, drawing back a little. Ho was quite penniless, bat still proud enough for a whole box of Lucifers. «Tqt, tut!” interpored the Samaritan in the curly brown wig. ‘“Don't know me, eh? Never been introduced, and that kind of thing. Fiddle-de-dec! I know you quite well, Capt. Baxon—yon ought to havo bonght your Captsin- c¥ by this time—late of the 150th. Bets, biile, Jews, Pildad and Shabite : gontleman ifficnl- ‘tes—I've been in difficulties myealf ; I'm always in 'em—fitio handsome young fellow. World all before you where to choose. Just s little bard up for tho moment, eh? Executions ont; keep it darl:; mako itail right. Know all aboutit. ‘Now, pray, my dear tir, not enother word. Jump ~ in. Cabby, Good-Gracious street. Took eharp, and I'll pay yoo. Dear, dear me, if e doesn’t look sharp, we eball be Iate for break- fast!”" And with such fragmentary discourge the little old gentleman had jostled the ex-subaltern into tho cab; had poked bis umbralia through the trap thereof to excite the “ gondolier " to spoed, and Lad pulled out aod consnlted at least 2 dozen times & massivo gold watch—tho twin brother, presumably, of the ono worth forty guineas of_which Lo had beon robbed in Villiers Breot; and with tho gleaming glamour of lus gold-rimmed spectaclea had fascinated Charley Saxon, cven s the Ancient Marner fascinated tho Wedding Guest; and all, 80 to speal, beforo you could eay Jack Rovingon. v “Name, ch ? ab, quite forgot!" his compazion suddenly observed, a8 the cab, having crossed the bridge, went rattling into tho wilds of Ken- ' That's my pamo, Capt. Saxon. sington. ustn't bo offended. ~Ought to bave been & Captain long ag0.” - With which sezzpliment he banded Charley & small oblong card, Learing this inscription : A 7. Baszak Cox, B d-Gracioun etreet, 8, 14 was christened Thomas Bsutam,”-ho re- “but those who love me call ma TIER TOMMY. Bless you, you'll come to love your Tommy be- foro you're half dona breakfast.” - “This is & monstrous queer sort of old file,” the now thoronghly amused Charloy thought, turniog the card between bis fingers. ‘I don't think hie's half a bad eort of a fellow, though.’ 1 know what you're thinking of,” Mr. Ban- tam Cox remarked, a whole shower of twinklings coruscating from the gold-rimmed spectacles. “ You're thinkig that your Tommy’s an odd fish. Sohois. Ho gloriesinit. And look you bere, young, man,” he continued w:th somewhat of Bolemnity in his manner, *‘if you want to know more about me, I'll tell yon. Your Tommy lives on his means, and ho's a man that likes to look on ihe sunny sde of things.” A quarter of an hounr's rattling over the siones brought them to Good-Gracious streoi, which was 2 traly suburban locality—a kind of compro- mise between & strect, s road, a _grove, a cres- cent, a lane, snd a double row of detached villas —embowered in trees, and with protty Iswns sud flower-gardens in front. With oll this, thero was & public house at tha corner of Good-Gra- cions stréet and o public house at the bottom. Pisgeh Chapel (Primitivo Alumpers’ connection) wes in the middlo of the sircet, flanked on ons side by o mansion in tho most florid style of suburban Gothic architecturo, and on tho other by a charming little two-storied vills, the facade half-smothered—it was summer time—with roses aud cglantine. There was delicious littls garden in front, and on the iron- 1ails of the gate was & very large and highly pnhflhed brasa plate, on which were graven the words, marked § MAPPT VILLA.” “That's whers I live,” cried Mr. Bantam Cox, merrily. ‘“Jump out, my dearsir. Now, cabby, bere's your fare. If's no mse arguing. You kuow mo well enough. Bo off, will you, in a brace of shakes.” And MMr. T. Bantam Cox inducted Charley Saxon into tho precincts of Happy Villa. That which the hansom cabman _subsoquently eafd was unheerd by his quondam faro ; but it is the privilego of tho romancer to be in the receipt of fern-eced, to walk invisible, and to listen to a varioty of Temarks, the uttorora of which ave not the ‘dlightest suspicion of bein‘g overheard. Thus did it como to pass with tho “ gondolier who hed brought the littlo old gentlcman and his nowly found acquaintance from tie Thames Em- ‘bankment to Happy Villa. “Yea," ho_growled, Lolding with scornfally bentarm, and in ihe palm of a remarkably grubby buckskin glove, the legal faro for the Jjournoy, which was ong shilling and_gixpoaca; T know yer well enuff for the Lumbuggingest old skinflint, asud ride half. round the Poatal Ragious for eightcenpence. I know yer, yer hold himmago. 1 wonder what's your game, * now, with that ewell out of luck, Bs looks as ungry os Lif be'd been tied up for ten daysin a cookshop with a muzzle on. No good, I'll go bail. A bad lot—a bad lot.” With which dis- pazaging dismissal of Lis customer, the gondolier viciously flicked Lis horao over the left- eur with his long whip snd sulkily departed. Ho met a nervous widow in 8 hurry (she was going to &ce her trustees), and charged Ler half & crown for conveying her from apposito tho Blind School to tho castern oxtremity of Great George streot, Westminster; a traosachion which somowhat poured oil on the troubled waters of tbat cab- men'ssonl La viewest pas sans degrandes con- solations. “ Bicanwhile thalittls old gentlsman had ush- ored Charlev—tho door of the villa being opened by o rosychocked servant of emurking mien— into o duinty frontparior, very prebtily far- nished, ond tho valls of which were hung with Gngraved portraits of tho most distingusked cquity and ‘common law Judges of past 2nd present times, Charley was somerwhat stagger- od by this imposing array of : ASCIEST AND BAPITNT COUNTENANCES ershrined in full-bottemed wigs aud termivating in bands and robes. g «Al, you wonder at my taste, I duresay,” chnckled tho litile old gentleman, marking the attention with which bis gneet surveycd the por- traits. “1'm very fond of law. It's such & no- ble studs.” The little old gentleman appeared to have carried his fondness for the law to the extent of keeping & record of the nittings of the various legal tribunals of the land; for sticking o0 the looking-glass ware divers printed notices Telating to causes in the Queon's Bonch, the Common Pleas, the Exchequer, and the Conrts of Beokruptey, in Bashirghall street, sad Lin- coln’s Inn. - Never mind these odda and ends,” ho remarked, as ho sayw Chatley's gaza directed towards these grafiti on biue foolscap. * Look at the pictures. Ain't they beautiful? That’s Lord Eldon. Great man, Lord Eldop. Your Tommy'o conridered fike * him. There's Mans- A Elinhorone, Lyndiurst, Drougham; 20d bhero's Sir Fitzroy Eolly, Enight at West: minster.” *Thiais certainly_the oddest old file I ever camp 2cross,” mused Charley, pursuine his in- vestigation of the ornaments of tho _spartmont ; “and, mercy on us. what can my Tommy want with all thors clocks?"” Thers were, indced. a couple of rather handsome French elocks on tho mantol-piece; and & _skcloton timepicco was maling a painfal exhibition-of ita_intercal ar- Tangements on the chionier. - One bracket sup- ported an alabaster clock, surmopated by a figuro of Hopa leaning on an anchor; on another shelf was a Tyrolese horologe, with an elabor- ately carved cnso Fand in @ coraer was a hnge old eight-day clock, rambling and whe ing lilte » pationt in the acuto stage of chronic bron- cbi § % CLOCRS—TYES, T've plenty of clocks,” Mr. Cox—Le should } ‘bee Mr. Clocks—expleined, as he saw Charles evo traveling from_one timepieca to tho other. “7Phis ia howitis. YourTommy, yousee, ownss goodish picce of house Smpm’ty licreabouts, and Fus tenanis ars 80 fond of him that they often send him their clocks to teke caro of, es- pecially when they're a littlo bit bohindhand with their rent. You've no ides how fond of your Tommy his tenants are. It's quite affect- Jop P11 give it up,” said Charley Saxon to him- seif. My Tommy mus! be mad. Everykedyis mad, eo they eay, over the water.” 'Af this junctaro breskfast was brought in: and the ex-subaltern, who was by this time hungry enough for several hunters, bad something elco Eesides portraits 2ud clocks to think about. It ~was & capital broakfast. Ifam and eggs, dovilcd kianeys, Strasbovrg pio, anchovy toast, and other delicacies zraced the festive board; and, in addition to tho usnal teaand coffee, a fascinating dilnent to tho_solids appeared in a Lugo silver tankard full of Baus' bitter. Charley thought of Dis old feasts in the mess-room, and of the trifling balance in which he stood indebted to the messman of the Bundred and Fiftieth Foot. On “this he dwelt with fond regret. ‘Il last did not troublo him much. Messmen mako larze profits, no doubt, from their catering, and they mnat be prepared to put up with the risk of the balances. @Your Tommy always fakes Bass at_broak- faat,” Mr, Saxan's host observed, a8 the victim of the Purchase Syatem indulged in a hearty draught from the tankand; “in fact he doesn't, object sometimes to & glass of bitter before Dreakfast; and I was on my way to have ono when I found you in Queer strect yonder. But! you wero drinking something stronger. Alas! you were baving . SODA-AND-B. ‘s Take my edvice, soung sir, and quit acrated wa- tors qualificd with Spirita in the moming. Therc's no hope for @ brandy-and-soda man.” o nttered thess words in o tone of deep earnestness, approaching solemnity, and that is Why L bave pnt them in imlics. On Cherley asking him why the cazo of a pcrdon imbibing, tha stimulant Lie had denounced must be con-' |- sidered hopaless, the Jittle old gentleman went on: 4 Because brandy-and-soda-waler men Die. Your Tommy wants his fricnds—bless 'em all— to Live. If souonly knew tho agonies of mind T'vo suffered through the prevaleniée of ‘peg- ging ' with Soda-and-B. in the Bengal Squadron od the Eighreenth Rifles, you'd pity your Tom- my, you would indeed.”” Well," answered Charley, good-humoredlr, «I'li promise to live, and not ‘Leg’ any moro before noon, if that will guit you.” 4+ Tu will indced, Charles Saxon,” tha little old gentleman replied, as ho produced a box of ex- Guisitely odorous Havanes, "I 5upposo you Smoko; all you srmy gentlemen do; nod I . ratlier encourage it, a3 Iam led, from observa- tion, to the couviction that smoking. rather dis- courages * pegging ’ thon otherwice. Now, light, wp vour cigar sad listen to me; and, if I'm rade, you musta't be angry_ with your Tommy. Nobody's angry with theiz Tommz, : Er's SUCH A DUCK.” A duck in & curly brown wig aad gold-rimmed epectaclos—a duck with false teeth, aud deeply Pited with the emall-pox—is somewhat, it must o admitted, of & rara avis; but “my Tommy"” 28 evidently & character. and Charley promised that he would not be angry with him, whataver he might a5, \What did he say? That, for tho present, must remain a mystery ; but all will bo duly ezplained in the sequal Charley Saxon turned very steady shortly after the poriod of hiy first intervisw with Mr. Ban- tam Cox in Good-Gracions street. He wrote a cories of the most beautifally penitent lotters home to his papa, the Rector of Rawler-cum- Crow, stating that he had at Iast awakened ta the errors of his past life, and that he waa inflexibly determined for the future to leal a new ome. Furthermore he conveyed to his parents the, gratifviog intelligence thst he had obtained {something todo in the city,” snd that tbe; something wss of a nature to eecure him, it sed-' competenco; pay, at evcataaily porbapa it might lead to the ao- quisition on his part of A HANDSOME FORTUNE. What the “scmething” in tho city was, and whetbor ho had gone on the Stock Exchange, or d become a ship-broker, or had received tha appointment of Chamberlzin to the Corporation of Loudon, the repentant prodigal omiited to stato; bu that his civic avocations wero of a remuncrative kind became speedily and gratifyingly spparent to his affecti nafo rela- - tives at Rawley-cum-Crew, by bhis sending Lis mother a3 a birthday preseat a fifty-poun note of the crispest texturs aud tho nowest 1m- preseidn. Soon afterwasds he mado Lis papa oven a larger remittance, in a Ictter in which ha told his parent that it was a shamo that his dlerical duties should be lonzer interfered with, _ and bis woll-deserved leisuro sacitficed by hav- ing to attond tothe educ of bis brother Jack ; and, as things in the city were now going vory well with him, bo was delightod_to inciose the wherewithal for tho dispateh of Jack to Cheam Bchool, and his maintenance at that celobrated place of cducation for two years. To the four tall young women, his sisters, he wasin a degres oquilly munificont. At least, they wera no longer forced to wear tarmed gowns, to don coi- ored hoso in default of beiug ablo to afford white stockings, or to mend their gloves natil scarcely any-of the omginal fabnic remained. Everybody tojoiced ovor tiis thorough reforma- tion of the black sheop. In Loncon, Charley Sazon cschowed the car- nal and irreverent rogions of tho West End, and dwolt in the PEACEFUL SHADES OF CTAPHAY, occupying indeed o tranquil fira’, fioor farnished, not a hundred miles from ths blissfal thorouz! fero kpown as Philomel lune, snd whers the landlady—her husband was an Elder of Pisgah Chapel—Original Mumpers’ coanection in Good- Gracions street—doclared him to bo. for moral- ity, decorum, sweelnecs of temper, and earlinoss of hours, a modl to all singlo gonlemen present and to como. Iu his paymeuts ho was as punc- tual a8 the Baok of England, on establisbment which has, I beliove, carned some renown for its promptitude nnd accuracy in monetary matters ; and ho drank mitk #nd water and ate Lard-boiled eggs for breaklast on Sundsy, in order to ave: wounding the theological scruples of the worthy folks with whom Le dwelt. Ah! howas in. deed s pattern—this erst_coreless and_prodi- ato subaltern, late of the Hundred nnd Fiftiotl Foot. Ho still kept up his subscriotion at Tus club, but he razely entered tha: haunt of dis- sipation sad emporium of idle end Irisoloas con- vereation. The billiard-rooms and tio Burling. ton Arcads, the Alborbra and the Aresll, the Grand Stand at Epsom and thesialls of the Royal Enormity Theatre, kuew him no more, Ah! bt had becoisa & changed, . A VERY CHANGED voung man. The fellows in ¥all Mall langhad, on hiad tarned 3letho: acce, tho convart met ho woald cast his eyes down, aud cross over to tho other side. You will remember that Pisgah Chapel was og tho side oywaaitu 10_that which was tho side of : Happy Villa, flanked by a handsome mansion in the suburban stylo of tlorid Gothic architocture, This regidence was styled Chzlcedon Lodgo, and at Chalcedon Lodge lived the two Aliss Murry- ame, anciont ladies of injependent means, with whom rosided their orjhan iiece, Miss Rufk Clodestowe, 8 buxum young person with brov hair and pretty gray eyes, and who was now verging upon two-and-tweaty years of aze. She bad been a ward in Chaccery, and the Loxd Chancellor for the timo being might well ba proud of beiug a gunrdian to such a ward, see- Ing that shie was as good as_sho was protty, and waa now aboluto miatresa of A HUNDRED AXD FIFTY THOUSAND FOTUNDS. Mr. T. Baninm Cux was on very frieudly terms with the ladies of Chalcedon Lodgo. In- dead, he was tho laadiord of the Miss Mnrryems, and 'bad built Chalcedon Lodge st his own cost and charges vears before, and, unless I am very much mistakon, the freehold of Pisgab Chapel was also_his ‘prope His relations with his tanants being of a fricndly as well as of & business paturc, what conld bo more nataral than that this Tommy should have the honor ta introduce to_them his pasticular and estimable friend, Mr. Cbarles Saxon? * Oncs in the army —Captain Saxon—connested with tho frst fami~ Ties, andthatsorzof thing.” 3r. Bantam Cox whis- créd to the anciont maiden ladics, while Char- oy was telking gentecl platitudes to Miss Rath Clodestowo sbout Pisgah Chapel, Exoter Hall, and tho last mesting of the Branzh_Society for ‘Establishing Missions among the Faatail Tndi- ans. The oid ladies did not mind the fact of Alr. Saxon’s having been in tho srmy ; since to that Information Mr. Bantam Cox zdded tha hint that bs was now engazed in tho city, and doing remarkably well. Thoy looked upon him now that ho had done with 3 mundene and sim- fal career. 833 BLAND SSATCHED FROM THE RURNING, aad ‘rejoiced exceedingly, As for Ruth, she ralher liked the notion of the youny gentleman, whose muatacl:es bad besn €0 cleanly shave off, Liaviug been onco a Captain. Sho liked bis eyes, hin teeth, the color of his Lair, his miid and 'cereesing—albeit strictly respeciful—con- Nersation. sbo liked his very hands and Slbert- &haped finger-nails, the way Tohad of pizning Dis scarf, ahd toying with bia watch-chain. She d bir and eversthing that was his; and, bo- ing o fool, sho fell over beud 2nd ears, there and then, in lova with Charley Saxon, Thioy wero marricd, not st Pingal Chapel, bat, ‘as was eufliciently customary with the denizensz ‘of Good-Gracions strect, at old St. Jumpus Clinreh, Newington, Thero wero no less than cighteen clarences, two glass-conchies, and & ministure brougham in themarriazo procession, and several yonung ladics fainted away in the gal- Jery previons to the final tying of tho nupiisl Knot. . The grandest of wedding-breakiasta took place at Chalcedon Lodge; but prior to iko com- mencement of the banquet 3Ir.T. Bantam Cox took Charley Saxon asido into the back drawing- room, and thus bespoke lum: “Young sir, I think your Tommy ha3 now done the right thing in this matter. . Ilo's mada you the husband of & pretty pirl—nover mind bor being a fool—with £150,000 for her fortunc, every shilling of which ia settled on borself, but ~which, invested in the elegantsimpiicity of the 3- per cents, vill vield interast Lo the amount of some £4,500 & yorr—quite enongh, I shoald say, to coable you to keep house and to have a preity Jargo balance for pocket-money. Now, young sir, do you kuow £ g WHAT YOU'VE_GOT TO D0¥” “1Why,” replied Charicy with a loud laogh, “I'va grot to return you tho ebilling you paid for tho eoda-snd-B. st tho refreshment room at Charing Cross, and which, 'pon my word, haa nover entored Ty head from that morving to this,” “You owe mo a great deal more {han that,” .| retorted tho Littlo old gentleman sternly; ** Vain and inconsequential youth, do ycu know who 1 am?” “'Yhy, my Tommy, and » very capital fel- low,” the bridegroom roplied, with another laugh, and elapping Lis benofactor heartily on the back. Douw’t do that,” tha little cld_gentleman ro- joined. * I'm asthmatical, and I don’t like it. 0f coarso, I'n your Tommy, and you're very fond of me. Eversbody’s fond of thivie Tommy. But 'm something more than thal. I'ma wolf, Ima vampire, Lia = dovouring lion." “ A what ?" cried Charles *I'm your OSLY ASD MOST BAPACIOUS CREDITOR, 2nd I want from you the sum 6 t thousand five hundred aud seventeen pounds sixison ruil- Jings and eleven penco three farthings, with in- torest at tho rate of 5 pes centum per anpum. T've paid all your cxceutions; 1'vo rottled with ail your tradespeoplo: 1'vo bought up ail your bills, unknowe to yon, and if you don't pac me 1'll Hava out a debtor's Fummons in bankrnploy apainst you beforo vou aro tw 1 older. And thal'z what's for bre ia 4 why the ol gentlem Of courso Chariey bal to p: andall ; but there wo3 & very coz ance remaizing cu the right eids qustus Sala. @Y Vig-A-VIS.| Befare me sho aits smiling, Tu's pioasist April day, Ard I vow ber Lreath is swacter Thzn ay pe-tacwn hiay. To Ler L'll give my baad and heart, Ay fortune and my v, And ailver fora Tl dve galore, If slio wou't bite Yur kuile: er cyes arelike ths summer-sea. ‘Euat laj th2 gollen san Her words arc I'Ee the soft £ute-notes 2 Gilmors's famous band ; irs 1'd ke to gay belonged To my owr: darling wife, 1f kine d!d not sbose in 1briughthem That pastry with 3 knife. 0, matden fond ! O, maten dear? ‘Tzt white hand wasn't mite o thrust between rous pearly teeth “That sharp ad gibieriug Lisle: For pranga are plenty, dariing dod] Jothis hard world of strife,— 8o do uot cut our love In t5:0 By eating with sour knlfe. A Now York politician, in writing a letter of condolence to tho widow of a daceased member of the Legislature, eays: ‘I caunot tell honm pained I was to hear that your hueband has gose to heaven. We were bosom friouds : but A0A we ehall never mees zain.” i i