Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, June 28, 1874, Page 11

METROPOLITAN MODES. (ugtemporancons Eves Tempted by Nerecan- tile Adams—Great Reduetions in Dry Goods. Objection to Thin Fabrics--Slesve- Ve {ess Jackets of Every Variety. A Striking f)ostume of Foulard and Gren- adine--White Camel's Hair for Cool Days. g Hats---Colored Stock- Travelin ings. Our Ouwn Correapondent, e New Yomx, June 24, 1874 i estionably, 8 purely malignant in- “I:t::h“:gm Ere's tempting Adam with tho Jos or, if sho Gidy it is cortain be bad first spple; O ith a new-fashioned gown of fig- and the exsmple he set of garmental e, e descandants bave been following ever lmber}"h;“ je plin to be scen that the gt merchants regard a woman's eyes s the porald to her packe‘»boo_k, and (¢ ber grestest weakness is her Jove for the besutiful and—cheap. There i, mo doubt, & class—perhaps & largo one—who will buy 2oy and everything on the fuggestion that it may be had for less than its sctual value. It matters not whother the arti- cles be needed, or desirable in any way; if cheap, they will be bought, and, oftenerthan not, by those who least require them. THE DAY OF CAEAPNESS. Thers fs no bhnkiog the fact that goods of all Finds are very cheap just now, and, whetber one wants aoything or not, 1t scems 8 pity not to ex- pend a fow doilars, when they will go so much farther than they ordinarily do. Even the most econemical fael & liberal thrill in noticing sum- ‘mer silks, a3 pretty s nood be, marked down to £1.50, €1.25, and even &1 the yard. And thd diats mow shadings in foulard &t 75 cents, double-faced and three-quartefs wide, mie almost arrecistiblo. In passing, lot mo euggest tbat white foulard makes an exquisite evening toilette for winter, aa well as summor: sxd for anvbody who bas need of many eveuing- dresses, and who has money to Jay sside, this is {he best of times topurchase materials for future use. White grenadines and bareges, plain and with satin stripes. or broche figures, are abuud- antat such ressouable rotes as 60cents, 75 ceuts, s0d §1, 8 vard. Combiaations of striped grena-. dine with foulard are very pretty, and eminontly suitable, since the fabrica go well together. Ail sarts of soft falling woolen goods, such as camol's hair, debege, leno, etc.,can be had for o pecuniary song; while 8 eingle bar apparently eocurcs lawns, organdies, jaconets, batistes, and the like. Indeed, mobody need complain of pancity of wardrobe when really pretty stulls can be purchased from 16 to 30 cents a yard. WIY WASHABLE GOODS ARE NOT WORN. Everybody admits that washable goods are the most appropriate, as weil as tio loveliest, for warm weather ; but, =fter tho admission, comparatively few women wear them to any ex- tent. And why? Becanse fashion requires that they—the gouds, I mean—st:all be g0 elsburataly formed as to be & terror to laundrosses, aud a pripetual diccomfort to their possessors. 1f mode would only allow us a plain, or even eimply-trimmed, ekirt and overskirc for such dresces 88 ought to seo tho washtub at loast once & weck, women (who by pature care most for the miriest fabrics) would employ them {0 the slmost entire exclusion of thicker goods. Tut, wiule custom requires such elaboration of gartiture a8 renders the cost of doing up equal to, if not greater then, tne original cost of the costume, washable stuffs are not likely to be vex{ widely worn. g While we areon this gubject, it is weilis mention that the latest ELEEVELESS JACKXTS Ihave seen a1e made of olid colors of lawn, cambric, and chambery. They are generally cut without plaits at tue back of the wamt ; 1ndeed, their shape is the simplest round basque. Of bright blue, pink, or purple, they are very charming over morming-suits’ of cambrio or alico, baving a white ground with colored figure or etripe. They are worn simply for pic- turesqua effect, of couree, though even an extra thickness of lawn can be telt in a cool morning. leeveless jackets bave mot yet reached the Reight of favor, or, rather, they have not begun $0 decline from tho height. They are made of esery imaginable material, in every conceivablo ¢impe. Biack and white rival colors in apprecia- tign, and many ladies provide themselves with baif a dozen. Someof t{\’a Drottiest are of tucked organdy, with lace insertion setin tho seams, and & Jaced rufile around the edge. Those who like colors place s narrow ribbon under the in- gertion ; sometimes s black velvet ribbon; chang- ing tha tint to suit the costume. I think no re- cent fashion has been eo attractive and so taking asthis. They are becoming to ll sorts of fig- ures, are very dressy; a bright colored jacket reudering aplain drees quite the equal in ef- focuveness of an elaborate costume; aud, beet of sll, they aro most easily made. In silk and worsted goods, they are often cut like 2 closo- fitting waist, With side-forms in the back, and two biasesin front. But, in Jawn and cambric, they are cut withont side-forms, and quite frequently with but one bias. Jeckets of this eort of slternate insertion and ribbon etripes are among the most fantastic, not to say be- witching ; and black garments 'of this Lin made in stripes of watered or velvet ribbon lnfld guipwo or yak Ince, frequently take the place of all onter wrappings for the street, i Among the cotton goods now in market are GI¥OHAM WATERPROOF clotbs. Thoy look very much like common ging- bam, but ere said o be eo thoroughly im- pregnslod with » kind of _rubber-dressing 4 10 be entirely impervious to liquid. Whether thia bo a fact or not, experience is too limited to sate sayet; but, if they are all that is clarmed tor thom, the invention is certainly a clever one. [hey are made in two shapes (there may be a lozen othere, but these are the principal),—like 1he common ' water-proof cirole, and like & long sacque n(ght-fiown. covering the dress almost to ibe ground. Wher rolled up, they make but a g:n-e!, not in the least inconvenient to ‘arry about, COSTINE OF FOULARD AND GRENADINE. One of the costnmes combined of foulard and grenadine, referred to above, is made in this ¥ay, the tmt being white: The demi-train ikirt i of foulard, very scant, and with & aarked slope toward the back. The tablier is ¥ the shirred bands, mentioned in a previous let- er,—tha plain foulard snd striped grenadine al- eroating, The back of the skirt i trimmed half- 12y up with alternating and graduated flounces, ihirred for heading,—the foniard coming mest bobottom. The upper flounce is headed by & wurzed band of grenadine,—tho rufiliog edge Randing either way, The polonaise, rather torter than the ordinary ent, has & Wat- 10 plait in the back, and is mada over a Waist~ Ining of foulard. 1In front, the greuadine is fut off between the front biases, allowing the Joulard to form a deeply-pointod vest, cut square, i rather high Pompadour, in the neck. The ekirt of the polonaise is rounded off at front corners, and drawn back in iballow loopings on the hips,—the back oM the olonaise being lifted in g loope. The only trimming of the polonaise 5 2.inch rufile of bias gronadine, edged with thite Tom-Thumb fringe, laid in scant box- Alaits, and heaaed by s milliner's fold of foulard. [his follows the shape of the garment, even out- 8 tho rest, and the square of the neck. The zeves are coat-ehape to the elbow, and of ©ulard, with two deep Zrills below,—the upper fill being of the grepadine. Thers is nothing rate or remarkable about this costume, ex- ept that it is simple, comparatively inexpen- i¥e, and tho most elegant of sny summer even- 2g-dress I have seen this seacon. A combina- don of black grenadine and foulard in this way tould makoa handsome evening-dress for an Merly Jady, and, like the white, bo equally gnit- to autumn and winter parties. o ‘WHITE CAMEL'S HAIR 1beginning to be used for polonaises and over- Feases for cool daye. They are well adspted to purpoee, 88 they are as thin as a well-woven ‘0olen fabrio can be ; yet they have a decided mrmth. - Mot of these upper-dressos are trim= ©d with Dlack velvet,—cufls, collar, and ockets, or chatelaine, being of that matarial. Seasionally s yak insertion s leid over tho vet, aud s yak Jaca or fringe 00gss it. This, Owever, is rather bizzae n appearance, sad THE CHICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, JUNE 28, 1874. 1 not very popular. The loog apron overskirt and short belted basque is the favorite form for this stuff, thongh, personally, I prefer the polonaise. ‘Theso doop aprons not seldom bave no back- breadths at all ; and, when they do, they almost invariably have cithor very suort breidihs, or two gracefully-folded, scarf-like onds falling {rom under the basque. ODDY AND ENDS. ‘The modish traveling-hats are now_ trimmed with & broad, softly-folded scarf of broken- plaided twilled gilk of black and white, brown tud white, or gray and white. Theso are con- eidered more distinguished than a garniture of ropped silk; aud, with the addition of & bunch of dull leaves, or neutrai-tinted flowers, are really very siylish. We have been taught to consider the name Greekas a synonyn 1or all thatis graceful in out- line and pure in stsle. DButibe Greek overskirt is the farthest remove from anything gracoful or artistic. It is 80 romarkably ungaiuly_that even iotersoly-fashionable womeu, who will ac- cept almost auy mnew style, can scarcely be brought to woar it. The latest conuodrum is, What becomes of last year's goods? Nobody can_entisfactorily aoswer it. 1t 18 literally impossible to find a but-sLape, any particular kind of materinl, or cut of garment, the second season. Conserva- tive parsons, who like to sce o pew fashion tried by others before adopting it, frequently attempt to buy a mode of last ecaxon, but utterfly without guccoss. Tho past mode is as if it had never ecn, Colored stockings, both in silk and Lisle thread, will be widely worn in the country this summer., Plain scarlet, blue, and, lavender, will find favor, but the preferred varieties are ribbed with colois and white, or similarly striped round tho leg. For elender legs, tho round stripes aro cousidered most becoming, while for stout legs, verticol stripes or ribs aro chosen. TURBELOW. —_— NOT KNJWING. 3 know not what shall befall me ; God haugs a mist o'er my cyes, And, st each step lo my onward path, . He makes new scencs 10 srise, Andevers joy he sends to mo Is a strange and swoet surprise, T sco not a step before me Ax I tread on suother year ; But the past 18 still in God's keeplng, The future Iis morcy ehall clear, And what looks dark Iu the distanca May brighten as I draw near. For porhaps tho dreadful future Ty less bister than T think ; The Lord may swecten the waters Before I stoop to drink ; Or, if Marah must be hlarah, Tle will stand besida its brink. 1t may be that He has waiting, Yor the comiug of my feet, Some gift of such rare blessedness, Somo Joy 80 strangely sweet That my lips ebali only tremble With the thanks they caunot speak, 0! wistful, bliseful fgnorance ! 1t is blessed not to know: It keeps me still in the arms of God, Which will not let me go, And hushes my soul to rest In the Bosom that lovos me so, 801 go enward, not knowing,— 1 would not if I migit; 1 would rathier walk in tho dark with God, Than walk alone iu the light ; I would ruther walk with Lim by faith, Than walk aloug by sight. Sps s Sy HUMOR. Fur-fetched—Alpska seal-skios. — A week couclusion—Saturday night. —A philsnthropist proposes to muzzle the boys during the green apple sfhson. —Out in Montana, when they start a man down hill in & barrel, they spoak of his “*appear- ance in » pew role.” __A Detroiter complimented a newspaper par- agraph with the remerk that “It wasas neata little Judas Priest as he ever heard.” —An old wine-bibber says that an empty cham- agne-bottle is like an arphan, bacause it has o8t ite pop. . —When an old citizen of Detroit goos through & runaway uoharmed, the Free Press felicitates him on his escape from ‘*frescoing the wheels of & passing eSpress wagon with his brains.” —A Yankeo editor has recently got nga reme- dy for bard times. It consists of ten hours' la- bor, well worked in. & —One Paradise has been sued for slander by Miss Wartz, of Brooklyn, whereapon somebody slg_marks, “That's Wercz the matter with Para- is0," —Tbe giorious Fourth is not far off. It will mako lemonade taste better to remember that our forafathers poured out their gore without charging o cent.—Detroit Free Press. —The poor old father of a bootblack says he Dever enjoys himself 50 much as When he seos the son shine. —The young lady ont West who received 81,000 dlmlges for & kiss is ¥nid to be spoiling to. be thus damaged again. —Padagogue—First little boy, what is your neme? Little bay—Jule. Pedagogno—Oh, no; vour name is Julius. _Next littio_boy, what.is Jours ? Becond boy—AMy name is Bilious, —A drunken Chinaman, feeling rich and elated at his Erogmas 1 American civilization, went through tho stroets of Kan Francieco, crying, “Hoop-la! Hoop-la” Mo all rame ae Melican man._ Hair cut rhort, and drunk like h—111" —Negro-minstrelsy 18 said to bo declining,— probably because the Grangers are down on the middle-men. —An Arizona girl ehot ber lover, and then nursed him tenderly till he died, 1lis last words were: * 1 forgive you, Mary ; you did it with an ivory-handied pistol.” & —A Louisiana man puts s two-ounce can of nitro-glycenne inside of a chicken, tosses the chicken to an alligator, and that alligator does Dot trouble the bayou any more. —Dr. Cujler wants all_soung Indies {o band togetber aud eay: *‘ No lips shall touch my lips that bave touched a Loitle.” Rather rough thia on tho fellows that were brought up by bhand. —Thero 18 nothiog pleasanter, when in tho declining years of life, than to bave tho boy who used to catch all the fishand find all the berries coma to you for the loanof a half-dollar. Time works its revengos. —One who maikes human nature his study says that when s girl takes her bandkerchief and moistening it mith her lips wipes a black spot off a young mat's nose, & weddiug between the parties is mevitable. —A fow days ago a lady of Bloomfield, Ta., went 0 the Post-Ofice and asked for some stamps. Tho clerk gave ler eome green ones. She ssked him if he didn’t have any pik ; her stationery was pink, snd sho wanted stamps fo mztch. 2\, Blytha, of Indian Territory, gets upon & stump and calls out: *Gentlomen, Y'm lovkin for my twan:{—uighth man since Ju\u!fil ' Then the crowd scatters and leaves the speaker shooting at the slowest man. —A Iamented citizen of Montana, whoso pas- sion for horses led him out to the end of a con- veniont bough, and whose witimate views of life were taken through a shp-noose, declared it to be his conviction (which was unamumous) that this world is all & hemp-tie show. E1—Overnice.—Not many years afio s Hartford man was drowned, and friends brought home the dead body to his afllicted wifo. As they came to the front door with the corpre, the now ! made widow sppeared and sadly remacked: I guess you had botter take him aronnd to the back door, £0 he won't drip on _the carpets!” — Have you damp sheets in your hotel?” inquired a fastidious old party at the — House the other evening, after he had written his name and handed in his earpet-bag to the hall-boy preparatory to ascending to the room sssigned bim. *“T don’t think we have any on hand just now,” answered thae bald-headed clork, laugling, “but T'll order & pair put undor a faucet for you, sir, direotly.” Fastidions old party and bald- headed clerk adjourn to the bar. —Orange-pecla are found to be much inferior, for upsetting purposcs, to large California poa- s. Our brevity-man saw & lady ezep on one of the Iatter yeaterday. She kicked with both feet as high as & ballet atar, gave the peeuliar, shrill, feminine_scream, sat down, eaid * Oh my!" smoothed down her disordered sttire, Tooked around wildly, rose quickly, shook herselt 10 see if anything was loose, gave 2 withering ginnce at the place where sho had fallen, and, Fith all tho sparo blood she had in her face, j%nt on with her 'shopping.—San Francisco a. ¢ —— oOfficial Dignity and Docency. From the New Orleans Builetin, ZLast night, whilo our_reporter was awaiting 8. verdict In_the Graot Pansh trial, his attention was called to the Judges' room, whero eat Judge Woods aud Kellogg, playiog set-back euchro. The lives of eight white men waro being balanced batwoon Life_and desth at that very time in the neighboring jury-room, 8 the Judge watched for * Bco” and “right-bowar” toturnup. This is s fit commentary on the condition the people of Louisiana have been brought to, and no argument could be more af- foctive. A man pretending to be Govarnor playa euchre with a United States Judge waitin for s verdict of guilty, and_eight men lool ihrough the bars of the Parish-Prison waitlog for their liberty. Nero, fiddled while Rome was burning. Kellogg sprees while the people he claims to govern aro robbed of their liberties ond wro threatened with death | Ok, righteous Judge} OF, noble Governor! - THE MILLINERS. Griesances of Girls Engaged in Yari- ous Branches of the Milli- nery Trades The ¢ Girls-to-Learn” Dodge, and ‘i‘is Nefarious Workings. Why Milliners Charge Suck High Prices ==-The Troublesome Whims of o Customers. To the Editor of The Chicago Tribune : 818 : As achampion of justice, I wish tovindi- cato the female industrial clasrcs, as eome of their grievauces ery nloud to Heaven. First, there aro THE FRAME-MARERS, who, with deft fingers, fashion and mako theeo airy and jaunty sbapos over which the daintiest silks and materials are formed into s perfect *love of 3 bornet.” When a framo-making establishment Is hurried and wants more help, it advertises for ** girls to learn.” Of coursoit has many applications for the eituation, as many are desirous of learning some good trade or calling ; aod the yonng ladies are told, as they will be liable to spoil material and waste a great deal, they will have to work from four to eix weeks for no pay, in order to learn. Thoy are aleo informed that it will bo an imperative necessity for them to have a pair of pliers and a pair of nippers, which theobliging (?) proprietor furnishes for 81, dead cssh; tho pame can be Lought 50 per cent less at any retail hardware- store. The girls work on for perhaps a month, sud perhaps for & shorter period,—as girls are taken to learn every dsy,—and areold that thera isno use in trying to learn the art, asthoy never can make anyihing at it, for they are too slow. ‘The idea is to get the labor for nothing,—not that the young ladies are sny more backward than any othes to loprn. By the above subter- fuge all the work of a busy sesson is accom- plished by paying one or two-experienced hands from $10 to 315 per woek. I bave the statements of acores of girls who kave practiced self-Gunial, almost starved, and worked for nothing,—hoping that they were gaining an occupation by which the ‘* hungry wolf” was to be kept from their doors; but who, after & long patient apprenticeship, now find that the want is not for skilled labor, but for GIRLS TO LEARN. There are women who have retired from busi- ness, prominent Christian members of society, counted 8 the very classification of modesty, Christian virtne, and houesty, whose elegant dreases and glistering jowelry represent the filched earpings, the heart-aches, and the ruin- ation and downfall of God only knows how many women. COan it be that neare really in & Christian land? Csn we wonder at the Com- munistio fealing that is gaining ground with the lowost orders of sooiety, in every city in tha . country? Just ro long 88 we pocket s profit of from 300 to 400 per cent (which is the case, I find in one instance) on honest toil, we can only hope to mow the gaeds of anarchy, con- fusion, and porhavs bloodshed. Let us try and do bester. NEXT ARE THE STRAW-SEWERS, who fare but a very little better than their sis- ter-laborers, Like the frame-makers, they have to serve an apprenticeship, but receive pay from the start, though e they ere somotimes sub- jected to petty fincs, and being necossarily slow workers from their inexperience, they find, after a trial of about a month, that they have not mede enough to pay the very small sum necessary for thelr board at some extremely frugal fable that they, out of nocestity, are obliged to patronize, "It many deductions are made snd mnch fanlt fouud, the girl becomes disgusted, quits her place, iuquires for work at similar estabhshments, finids out business is conducted on & simiar plan in many of them, snd turns her attontion towards some other oceupation; or, if she be distrossed for money, her steps often tend to that broad road 50 fatal to virtue and human happiness. When she starts on her downward path, she finds every one's hand lifted againsther : finds herself, nocessarily, antagonized to and by her own sex, from her former grievancos suffered at thewr hands, and from their hostility to her in this the bour of her downfall. Befure women de- spiso aud spurn one of these, lot them firet ask themselves, How con we blame her, considering ber many wrongs? Cannot wo, a4 Christian members of sooiety, inquire, in the futnre, into the causes of this £ad siate of affairs, and try and correct them? Caunot all mombers of society, male and female, ask self some pertinent quostions touching their duty? If there be a just God, I trust that speedy and severe punlshment may befall the oppressor of bonest indastry; and, with the help and sanction of the Christian com- munity, I bope soon to see soma of the greater evils correoted. The poorer working community desire bread and honest employment,—moro prac- tical Christianity and fewer tracts. ‘Hungry peo- plo want bodily needs suppliod fiist, and then you can talk tract afterward. Next come THE ACTUAL MILLINERS, who are composed of all kinds of peoplo =nd otbers in 7-by-0 shops on by-streets. They,8s & class, are more honorable than somo of the es- tablishments that furnish frames, flowers, eto., for the trade. The appreotice syatem, of course, is carried on toa great extent, and I think ismore opprossive in the firat-class establishments, as & Tule, than in the other grades. The general term of apprenticship in mést of the first-class estab- lishments Is six montbs without compensation, and six months at quite low wages. But. if the shop is a large one, and is driven with work, the proprietors advartise for * girls to learn,"— the inevitable dodge of every branch in the live, and soon have their shop filled with a smiling, good-looking *lot of girls, who, from their singing, ono would be almost led to believe were indeed happy. But fam sorry to say that fFach isnot thorula. Many of tnose girls go to bed nightly with tired bodies, and ofttimes with empty stomachs, ! but looking forward with hopea for » brighter future. Alss for human expectations] how often they prove delusives for, perhaps, should work fall off, thoy are told that, ““in consequerce :of the dullness of the times,” etc., their services AUST BE DISPENSED WITIL. In ope moment the hopes of months are dlsel- sted, and tho time lost in learning is often lost indeed; for they find, on inquiring at several establishments, that business is conducted on precisely the same principle. 8o porhaps they seek apd obtain employment—often after weoks of idleness—in some smaller shop, whero they employ less * girls to learn;” and finally find themselves practical trimmers, or hat is denomirated ** good shop-belp.” Should the girl be of French origm, or cultivate a French accent, she is emploved by some largo establishment as a real French artiste at’ somotimes as high 2s €100 per month. Tut, where one reaches thia pinnacle, ninety— nine fail to be anything more than *good'’ or “ordinary shop-belp.” French ladies are pre- forred to American as firat-class trimmers, as it i supposed that thefi are moro tasty and polite to oustomers; which I suppose, in the main, may be correct, though I cannot ses ‘why Amer- ican Iadies could mot cultivate the same traits. But, as the proprietors consult the tastes of their customers, the fanlt, if any, lies in that direction. Now, a8 Thave spoken for the Workers, let me put in a word for the proprictors. Although high prices are charged at first-clags places, yet THERE 18 NO UNFAIRNESS, taking into_ cousideration their expenses for rents, clerk-hire, style, the pay of one or more first-class artistic trimwmerr, and the eapricions- ness of some of their customors; and no sum within bounds would compensate, sometimes, for the trouble and vexation experienced from their actions. A lady calls at one of oar leading millinery-stores, and atates that she is desirous of purchasing a bonnet. She is shown the vari- ous styles, and finally decides upon what sho wants, and says that, a3 she is going out of“the city in a day ortwo, she wishestohave herbonnet Dy tho nmex: day at 8 p.m. The obliging sales- woian promises, 1n order to accommodase ner, That it will be forthcoming at the_sppointad hour. Burely enough, at the appointed hour, our Iady arrives, exnmines the bonnot. tries it on, takes an_sdmiring glance at herseif in the mirror from different positions, and not only pronounces it superlativoly handsomo, but Botually kays that she was never batter eatisfied in her life. Bhe of eourse pays a good round sum for the bonnet, aud departs. But, alas! poor, overworked wrimmer, do not deceive Sutselt with the ides that your customer ic truly satisfied; for, =nould she meet eome commoner (or what 8he conaiders as such) poreon with a hat trimmed similar to hers, she will eurely come back,—this time not so pro- faeo in emiles and flattering remarks. Sure enough, to-morrow she comes in, all in s flutter of excitement, and coolly asks if you *‘cail that bonnet trimmed au fait,"—at the samo time remarking that the ‘‘horrid thing" makes her “look Like s first-class fright;” which, ten chances to one, would be the case were she to wear her most bewitching emile. She is po- litely iuformed by the saleswoman that, if eho will make her wants known, ehe will have the matter made right immodiately. The salexwoman is informed that one ruche, perhapa, is about one-gighth of an inch higber thanthe other,—and that is all. Directions are given to the trimmer to remedy the defect, and our lady (2), who at first found only ane fault, now suddenly disoov- ers that there are & dozen; and the trimmer goes on until the bonzet is_entirely remodeled, and often with a different flower here or there, o the laay's caprice may lead her,—all of which HAS TO BE DONE GRATIS, and with a emile,—for & frown wonld be con- gidered awful, Our lady, on the corpletion of the bonnet, views bersell’ aguin in the glasa, is evidently eatisfled, and departs with the grace of a Queen of the Fejeo Islands, without even sayjug ** Thank you.” It will be & wonder if «bé doos not return on the morrow, and demand another overhauling of her bead-gear; one worthy Iady eays that eho has known work to ‘bo brought back the tbird time. Now, if ladies are forced to pay fabulous pricea for millinery, it is in & mensura their own faule; for, if people should spend their timo to eatisfy mere whims, they must be paid for it. In order to be fairly dealt with, we must have roepect for the rights of others; but, as long as we grind and _bear ' down, 80 long will we be carsed with dishonesty and unfair dealing. In order.to bave mon and_ women houest, we must first practice honesty ~ourselves, and then the matter will be of easy solution. T, A.E. A MIDSUMMER MORNING. TThe breozo that etirs the last queen-rose, And bears awsy its sweetnesa, Floats downward where the fieils reposs In Summer's ripe completensss, Across tho sheeny, waving grass, ‘Adown among the willows, In fancy now Lsee it pass To kias the mimic billows. A brown bird fintters to the brink, And dips ita pinions quickly ; Anear, a troop of lilles drink, With petals crowded thickly. There's not a song. thera's not & tound, The full, round sunlight under ; The very échocs, bid around, Are still and full of wonder. Tose-GEravoa ) Manners and Customs in Xccland, Mauvners aro simple in Iceland, as indeed in all the Scandinavian countrios; and sll the simpler here bocause there is really no distinccion of rauks. Nobody is rich, and hardly anybody ab- jectly poor; everybody bas to work for himself, aud works (exccpt, to b sure, a fow storekeep- e1s in Reykjavik, and one or two spots on the coast) with his own hauds. Wealth would not raise & man much above his fellows, aud there are indeed no means of employing 1t except in nupElying a house with what would be thought in England indispensable comforts. Woalth, therofore, is mot greatly coveted (al- though the Icelander likes & good bargain, os- pecialy in horseflesh,) and auair of content- ment reigns. The farm scrvant_scarcely differs from the farmer, sud probably, if stoady fellow, ends by marrying the farmer's dsughter and getting a farm bimself. Thero is no ticie of respect, uave Heira to tho Bishop and Sira t0 & rieat ; not even such a titlo as Ar, or Mrs., or Eaquire, If yougo to call_on alady you tap i the door, aud ask if Ingibjorg or Val- egor is in; or, if you wish to give ber her tull name, Ingibjorg Thorvaldsdottir, or Eirikstdotlir, or Bjarnardottir, (ss the cage imay be,) for there is no title of politenees to apply. Her name, moreover, is her own name, un- changed from birth to death ; for as there are no surnames or family names among the Icelanders, but only Christian names, there is no reason for a wife nassuming her busband's name, and she is Thorvaldsdottir after ber marriage with Guomundr just as before, while bor chil- dren are Guomundssop and Guomundsttir, When such a comcession is made to the rights of women, it 18 o litile surprising to find tbat she 18 in auy other reapect treated as == inferior, not usuallv eitting down to tallo with the men of the family. but waiting on them, and diuing hBDHllfilf. Otherwise, Lowever, women seem sutficiently well off, having full rights of prop- erty and riding_valorously about tho couniry wharever they will ; and we could not hear that there was any movemenl for their emancipa- tion, or indeed for_social reform of any kiud, though. to be suro, imperfect knowledge of the Isnguage restricted our inquiries. Inone regard tho women of Iceland_ have obtained complater etht{ than their sisters in Oontinental Eu- rope. 'They roceive exactly the same education 88 the men do. Thereare noaschools in the island naturally, as families live mostly a dozen miles apart, sud instruction is_therefore given by tha father to his sons aad daughters alike and to- gother, the priest—where there s a priest—some- times adding a little Latin or Danish. Thus tho girl learns all her parents can teach her, aud ia as good an arithmetician, aod as familiar with the BSagas, as her brothers, Ac- complishments, of course, are pretty woll out of the question ; paintiug, Dot ouly from tho difi- culty of procuring materials, bu becausa thore is really nothing to paint ; dancing, because you can scldom gather & sufliciontly large party, aud liave no rooms big ezough ; instrumental music, on account of the impossibility of transportiog & piano over rocks and bogs on the back of a pony. Nevertheless, we found in a remote bouse (s good wooden house, by the way),’ upon the cosst, whero wo were hospital bly entertained for & day and night, not only & piano, but seseral ronng ladies who conld play excollently on it and s guitar, accompauy- ing themselves to gongs iu four or five lan- guages, the Swedish, as wo u:uugh:i tho pretti~ oat of all, “They lived in tho most desolate spot imaginable—the ses_yoating in front on a long strand ; inland, a plsin of dreary Log, sod behind it. miles away, grim shapoless mounains. They bad no neiglibors within 10 or 15 miler, and told us they were often withont a_visitor for months together. But they wero as bright and cheerful 35 possivle; and though thoy did not respond to the suggestion of & dance, they sang and played to two of us all evening long in the tiny drawing-room, while tho storm howled without; and their worthy father (who was a sort of goneral merchant for that part of the island), and_the Lord Lieuten- ant of the county, who hed d.rg?pad in from his ‘house 30 or 40 miles oft, brewed noble bowls of punch, and held forth to our third comrade. in a strange mixture of tongues, upon the resources of Icaland, and the prospects of opening, by m‘fims of British’ capital, flourishing trade in sulphur. Apn for society, it must not be imagined that there is any society in lceland in the same sense 28 in England or Americs. Except at weddings or funerals, there are no social gatherings ; even in the town an entertainment is the rarest thing in the world, and in the country it is impossi~ ble. There ars no * country people,” 0o ** bess sots,” and hence no struggles to get into them. But’ there is not only a great deal of practical hospitality, everybody stuyiog, as s matter of course, nt everybody else’s house, but a_very generous spirit shown in giving it. This is one of the things which ono most enjoysin travel- ing there, and which atones for many discom- forts. Everywhere you meet a hearty welcome ; 2l that the house affords is set bofore you, the best room is at your service, and what 18 done, be it great or little, is done in aa ungrudging spirit and with genuine kindliness of maaner. Tn fact, the strongest impression which wa car- ried away, after that of the grimness of the sconory, was that of the gontality of the people aud the pleasant sonse of & social equality which involves no obtrusive self-assertion by the poorer, since it is the natural result of the con= ditions under which life goes on.—The Cornhill Magazine. Strength of the Rebel Army. An interestigg correspondence has been pob- lished between Joseph Joues and S. Cooper, formerly Adjatant-Gonersl of the Confederate Yrates, relative to the forces in arms for the Confederacy. From this correspondence it ap- pears that the Coofederate States nevar had mors than 200,000 men in arms at one timo; that from 1861 the whole number of Confederatea sctively engeged was only 500,000, the number of deaths 200,000, of priscoerd, considered total losses on account of the United States policy of exchange, 200.00C; losses by discharge, dissbility, sud desertion, 100,000, and in arms at the close of the war less than 100,000 It is evideot that Gen. Cooper_ greatly understates the loss by deser- tion, Itis believed on the best authonity that there were in the Confederate States atthe close of the warnot less than 30,000 desertersand per- sons lurking to avoid conscription, . Basides, maoy of the Eri-onen were not totally lost, & large number having returned to the Confeder- ate ranks in the spring of 1865. The fact can- not be gainsayed, however, that, if there had been loss desertion, and conscripts bad come readily forward, and the Quartermaster’s De- artment had been more honestly admimstored, ee's army would not have boen the ragged, jointless skeleton that it was during the last six months of the war. IL FRATE FILIPPO. The fair sky had given way to clonds, when s Pparty of three people drove up to the Church of Ban Giovanni in Laterano, at Rome. While the Roman vetturino grambled, as Ttalian drivers are wont to do, over his legal fare, Mrs. Haughten, one of our party, also grumbled a little over the Ioss of the bright view. But, even asshe spoke, the sun came out coyly, and its beams rested on the arching aqueducts that leaped away, away toward the Sabine hills, and fell upon a squad of eoldiars just entering the turreted city-gate. A band was with them. A gleamiog ray struck theiruniforms and polished trumpets, and made a fascinating combination of light and semnd. The sunshine seemed to trickle down in great drops through the heavy ilex-trees upon two dark-eyed Italian girls, who, with thoir bodicen gay with flowers, and their co- quettigh stilettoes in their hair, displaying the bright balls at the end which proved that they were still free, danced to the martial music. A contadino lay on the grass,—s veritable marigold in coloring.—and played with his dog. An artist, near by, sketched the ecene ; and, A YOUNG MONK, silent and thonghtful, stood with his finger on Jis lip, after the manner of the Italians, gazing. Mrs. Haughton's eyes rambled ovor the pretty picture, but her sister Margaret's attention was concentrated a8 soon as she eaw tho young monk. A vat} vamety of expressions played over his face, while his national love of the pictur- esque secmed for moment to be holding down some disturbing undercurrent of thought. While Margaret watobed bim, the eoldiers passed, the musio died away, aud two dirty old Roman_beg- gara shook their penny-boxes for bait, and held out their skinny hands. The struggling waves came to the surface on the yuuuf man's face a8 be turned abruptly and preceded the party into the church. - Tho three wandered up and down within, and paused to laugh at Bornini's saints, whose colos- sal figures fill the niches in the twelve columns of the pave, ** What astormy mind Bernioj had. See how Lie tinctured il his scholars; for I be- liovo theso statues only beloug to his school,” ¢aid Mrs. Haughton. *‘Look at the streaming qumantu and the great avgry knuckles of St. Matthew.” *‘Yos, lus figures always seem to represent florce demoniacs, whose members per- petually war one with another,” added Margaret. ‘e wholo body, Liowever, generally joins in & good bard fight with the elothing,” laughed her rother, “aud Matthew wotld evidenily have couquercd in & fow momenta more.” *I wish,” said Margaret, half-impatiently, * that some of these priests would battle with their robes, that seem to bold in the superstition and weakness of ages, throw tuem off, and COME FORTH MEX.” «Ah| they, too, would be patrifiod half way,” said Mr. Haoghton, * The Church would prove a very Medusa's head to any poor monk that dared show fight. But I thought the court of the monastery was your especial desire to-day, Margaret. Suppose I hunt up s sacristan, Afl, stay! bere js a monk," and he turned to a black- robed figure near them, and aired bis poorest Ttalian, which, alas | wes also his best, in asking him to show them the movastery-court. Ths monk led tho way, up the lefv aisle, through the Iast chapel. The rain was falling gently down into the green little garden, in tho middle of which two porphyry pillars guard a rars marble well, by Which, ssith the Chburch-legend, sat the woman of 5. A richiy-wrought fnezo of mossic and marble is sup- ported by double rows of columus, fantastically twisted into various shapes, ornsmented with mosaics and carvings, snd restiog on the marblo balustrade that segarates the gardon from the logata that surrounds it. This leggia—a broad, covored, paved wallk—containsrelics, bitsof bas- Toliefs, and odd alabs set in the wall, and a great Epiecopal cheir oz throus, one mass of quaiot, labored devices. Reaching this_obair, Margaret psused. “A chance for moralizing, Mildred," she said. **Tlunk of the great men who have wat Liere, the wisdom it bas held, and now be- hold, slas! how its glory has departed.” And shoe “jumped lightly, yab with & certain weight of remembrance that made Ler half-reverent, upon the throno. Mr. and Mrs. Haughton walked on, but Murgaret sat st2ll, her oyos sud mind full. Look- ing up, she cought sight of a second zow of columny, stuccoud and tawdry, behind which closed or half-opened wooden shutters revealed the presonce of windows. "The brother's rooms,” eaid the monk in En- glish, with o forelgn accons. *This is no longer = regular mocastery, but about twenty monks ini2bit 1t, some of them serving as priests, and others teaching, as I do.” Margaret turned quickly, and looked at him. "Twas the same face she had seen in front of the church, aud oven in ihe haaty glance it revealed THE BAME CLASH(NG EXPRESSIONS, Nevertheless, there was that in it that drew her toward it. She smiled quite naturally, a few moments sfter, as she pointod upward. The monk followed her gestures, and eaw a little bird sitting on a half-open blnd. It is a vis- itor,” said Margaret. The tiny hesd bobbed from one mide to the othor, sud a fow gentls twitters fell with the soft rain-patter upon their ear. *Did you ever read the * Prisoner of Chil- lon'?” asked the strange monk. “ Perhaps this little bird may ba that poor brother's hope; its song his promiso of freedom,” ‘But there aro no cbaing lere, sre there?" smd Mar- garet. * You forget your talk before St. Mat~ thew 2 he asked for snswer. ** Pardon me; I passed a8 you Bpoko, &nd- could pot but ov noar,” Bhe was a tritle confused as she descend- ed from the throne to rejoin her brother and sister. 2 “Itis very beantiful here,” eaid eho, *and strangely familiar. I believo it's the columns ; they are so fantastic sud irregular,—no two alixe, yot all 20 twisted oud rich in decoration and soulpture,—jost like a child's odd imagio- iny 1 thiok, of all places in Rome, this seems the most homelike to me. Legenus and fancies belong to such spirals aod curves, I can half- read s story myself in that column there, for in- Gtanco ; every twisted fold secms a now develop- ment, and the wreaths of broken gold mosaics aro a sort of hieroglyphic.” * Can you not give us some stories here, sir " asked Mrs, Haughton. “Iho Frato Filippois my names; but, if you want stories, you must turn to the wall. Here is 2 miraculous altar, and there the siab on which the soldiers are said to have parted Christ's rai- ment.” The young monk grew quite delightfal, show- od them various relics, and told thom quaint io- gonds, At lnst thoy reached & marblo slab sup- ortod in the air by four polished porphyry pil- ars at = distance of about six feot above the pavement. ** Whet ig that 7" asked AMr. Haugh- ton. * It marks tho height of our Lord," re- plied the monk, 8 he stopped under it crossing inmself. ¢ 1T 13 YOUR HEIGNT ALSO,” gaid Margaret. The man's face, wizh its bitter- ness and tenderncss, weakness and sirenfizh, geemed for a moment o lose ita cloud, aud Mar- garet fancied she canght a glimpse through his lifted eves of & great soul struggling—upward ? As the monk met her questioning gaze, he half- ghook his head. and, stepping out, put up his hand. ‘ The bodily height is nothing,” be said. “Opor Lord hsa goue up higher, and filis all space.” pBe(cre they left tho place, they walked across the court and_turned to look up at the monks® wivdows. * Do you beloufilo this monasters ?" aoked Mrs, Hanghton. * hat is my room,” re- plied the brother, pointing toward the balf- Opened shutter, on which the bird was still poised. « Have you forgotten Roman dirt now, Marga- ret 2 asked Mr. Hanghton, for the youug girl stood in » eparkle of surprise, framed in by a high arch of masonry. * Hush,” she answered, L %on‘z speak to me. I'm Christopher Colum- bus: ses what I have discovered.” So her brother joined her, and, looking shrough the arch, searched for the new world. A heaving, hillowy sea lay before him as ho gazed down at the wavee of antique moeaic which blashed, and glowed, and scovled, in red, snd yellow, and Gombre.greon bues upon the - floor of one of > the largest halls in thp Baths of Caracalla. The great walls rose sround, brokep only by other springing arches, through which vistas of yet undiscovered ruin-glory Jured them on. Over all hnug the blue, round- iog heavens, without & cloud, darkened only by aflying bird. A green clump of grass held & budding flower, which raiced 1ts pert head at the foot of the lomg seats that had oncs extended around the great bath. There none to crush it now ; for no poet. deep in the besuty of his own worda or recitations, paced up and down, de- claiming to the bathers Ellabm idly by his eide. Yet, even as they “hougbt on the life that once flled these halls,—the poets, philosophers, and scholars, that once throoged them,— A SOLITARY FIGURE APPROACHED, with the measured step and bent head of a man Jost in thought. Hia lips moved, and soon, after the Imalian fashion, gestures began. Yet he Sacmed rather to be pondering_ than declaiming, and, reaching the arch, stopped abruptly, alowly repesting, while looking solemnly up to the portal: Lasciate ogni speranz, vol chs entrate. Afrs. Haughton shoddered, but Margaret whis- pered: ¢ "Lis—yes, it is aurely the young monk of Ban Giovanni." The man started at the sound. and, with & slightly~confused bow, said that Dante was apt to make him forget himself. *I confess 1 am sometimes only too glad ts for- get him,” eaid Mrs. Haughton, with s elight shudder, “It is certsinly pleasivg to remem- ber, bowevar, that those fearful words are writ- ten over one door only, and_that everywhere in this world man can go and come without such fearful consequences,” she added, for something in the man's face roused her ever-ready sympa- v;h_v‘ $Yes, if that be so,” replied the mouk; “bat how do sou knowit? How does s man dare think, or question, or doubt, when he fears evenlest he may, by so doing, commit she un- known deadly ain, and eo be forced to indeed gve up all hopez” *Any man may become morbid" or insane,” replied Mr. Iaughton Dastily, CwAnd for my aw ppec I think too much pondaring and ques- tioning does harm always. It s a very practical world; littla actions count for mora than gregt wonderings, sud they are much more satiafactory.” * Yes,” answored the:monk, * buf one must bave a syatem Ly which to iive,” “Don't you find that in your religion?" as Mr, Hangkton. Frate Filippo wus. silent for a moment. *Tho well may be fall,” ho said, **but, if we come empty-handed, we cannot draw.” “ You look cold, Mildred," her husband said in a moment; ‘“let me run for your shawl” He turned to the monk and added:™ **You must como and continue this conversation atour rooms.” Mrs. Haunghton walked off with her husband; bus, just as Margeret was sbout to follow, the monk called her back. ** [IAVE Y0U NO NELP FOB ME?" hoeaid. *\Why, you're a man.” said Margorat; “*help yourself. It it's hard to think, just thini the harder.” 'm all a-quiver with diiferent be- liefs and feelings, and to-day they will speak out. 1 bave been brought op in our Holy Church; I love beras a mother ; Inever knew my own; Llead a lifo of humiliation and prayer,sndam tanght that I cannot better help others than by saviog them h‘nm;}urgnmlifl flames. Then whyam Inot contented ? Because Isee tho Church's works here in Rome. I am & Roman; Ilove every stona of this city. How much more does my heart go out toward its peoplo—my brothers— pressed down by ignorsoce and supemstition. Only one out of & hundred women, a8 city rec- ords prove, ia able to writo her name when sho is mardied, and _has not our mother, the Church, done it all? The King bas opened schools; cluldren are begiuning to be taught. He deals hardly with the beggars; the crowds on the Spanish gtepa are disappearing. It amouots to this: theoretically my Church, with her symbols and forms, is & helpmf mother; practically, with her sorvitude, she keeps ber gona children forever, -She holds, as her foundation-truth. tha desdly belief of knowledge for tne fow, blind obedience for the many.” Margaret began to spenf. “ Wait!” heeaid; “I havo not finished.” Ho tore his cap off nervously, and left tho full, five Lend exposed. Aftar the quick psssage of his fingers through bis hair, bis hand fell by his side Listlosely, and Do contlnued, in a less excited tone : Dou yon see how my caso stands? Supposo I try to teach others'these views, and with this puny independonce, this spirit of the times, combat the glorious upirit of the ages—the Holy Spirit itself, perhaps, expresacd in tho Holy Chuich. Then have L not only lost my own soul, DAMNED OTHERS. Lord save me!” and he dropped his bead and Ccrossed himself devoutly. * Butwhydo I tell you all this?" he said. *‘Merely because tho Tords will speak themselves. They have been too long pent up. You,ayoung girl, caunot understand—can give me.no help.” * Yes, but jndeed I do understand. Yom tremble, and wonder, sod fear”—this with 2 touch of mcorn on the last word, that made the monk raise his band involuntanly and clasp it bard. She went on: *‘ Because you have been brought up to it. Dara is what you want. There is a little Sunday-school hymn that comes to my mind. Yon would like to hear two or {hrea hundred children singing, 1ot chanting, In words they undenstood. Thers are mo music- waves in the sunple melody, but the tune has a snap and vim that fits tho words, and tnat, I fancy, is more American tban musical.” ~Mar- garet Iaughed as she held up her head and sang o snatch of the simple song, with an independ- ent air: Dare to be right, dare to bo true; You have a work that no otber can do. Do it #o bravely, g0 truly, 8o well ‘Angals will hasten the story to tefl, Spiie of the bit of amusement on his face, tho monk seemed to tako the words in enrzest. ‘It's . sort of popgun song,” u&lhe;l Margarot, “put 1t meaps fight with wrong, and temptation, aud opprossion, 1o mat- ter how ' they cloak themsclves. Once make up your mind to do what is right. and then Jost doit.” “Well,” said tho monk, **I suppoto iherais a difference in the way we've been brought up. To doubt or to question the Church’s doings is with us a terrible sin.” * Buf this is not just American infl@genduucu," eaid the gurl ; *'1t's the daro that Dible-men Lad, and tuat Christ tescbes us. If you come to ses us, as my brother requested, I'll show you a picture thatis better thaa the song. 1 must go now. Good-by.” She held out her hand in & frunk, earnest way, ‘‘Remember that to dare is better than to leave all hope.” 1o spite of the monk's promisa to call, he did not make lus apearance, anditjwas fully ten days later when Margaret was gurprised by receiving & note iu a foreign hand. It was from the Frate, snd only said : * Can_you seome at 12? Pray meet me then at the San Giovanni baptistery. 1 WANT YOUR HELP.” Hor sister was out, and Margaret wasin all of a flurry, sud something more. The swall boy who bad hxn:ihh tho letter was waiting for an auswer, 8o she must! dacide at once. What coullshedo? Ifit were mot for the four last wwords, * £ waat your help "—where is the wo- man in the worldto resist them? *If'smy turn to dare now,” thought Margaret, and ficaly wrote: “I will come.” Well, five minutes Iater the boy was ont of sight, and Margaret, with cheeks’ aglow with mingsd shame and confusion, would have given the world for her note again. It was wo late, and sho tried, sensibly, to put back such ques- tions ss why he hiad como to ber, aod for what ho wished uer help. She put on ler bat and srarted boldly, though withal a bis frightouod, * for the Piszza Barberini ; took what the It 2omana called & hack, and set out for San Giovauni in Latcrano, iThe way was long, but ehe paid littlo attention to the objects of intercst on the road thither. Perbans her eye rested sometimes on the bits of aucient columns that supported some tawdry shrino, or on a broken piece of heroio bas-rolief, peeping out over a dingy doorway, filled with_siinny old womean, black cats, and stewing cabbage. 1t it did, sho wag only reminded of the Romo of the pnst aud the Rome of the present, and that is & trite thought to one in the Eternal City. As shoe enterod the basilica she caught sight of the proud words sculptured in the stoue facade: *¢Tnis is the Head and Mother of all churches of this city and of TITE WIHOLE WORLD.” Evon a beretic heart must thrill at them. and Margaret walked through ths long church rever- antly, with & _dawning covsciousuess of what such words might meaa to oue who had mever had & mother. Bhe was too excited to linger here, and took ber way at once to the baptistery, —arotunds, contaiming the so-called Fout of Constantine, in which Rienzi bathed on the night of his fantastic vigil, fino bronze doors, mosalcs, a circle of porphiry columns, and wonderfully ugly green frescoes, It was cool aud quiet ; httle snadowa plased across the paveinent. AMargaret threw back her heavy veil and sat watching them, unul sho heard the atep of the young monk. She was nos prepared for tho pale facn that gecotad her, out ot which the dark eyes gleamed almost unnatur- allfy. *Youareill?" she acked, 1na trembling tont. It was so strange that it was not stranger for hor, & young girl. 10 bs bero in thia church- sbaded spat, to®ring heretical help 10 a cowled monk. 1t scemed stranger yet that she felc that her proper placo was bere. “No, 1 am not ill,” besnswered. * One of the brothers is very sick ; I offored to take charge of im ; it pleases him to have me constantly with 1m, %01 could not come to yon. Iwant just a word more from you. Tell ‘me, if I brezk my vows, doI Dot perjure my soul?” *Bus you break vour vowa in eaying you beiieve what you do mot” “Yes, ‘tho tma bas come for decision. Iam ordered on a commis— sion which I caonot undertake, I have written 1y reazons for leaviog the Charch here. I love her so still, you see,” be scid, with a sad shaks of bis head, ** thas I could not but wish to ex- plain.” He handed her neatly folded packet. i As soon 28 you hear fram me, you will 2sk your brother 1o nave thia published in some English paper hero? While my frioud iaso ull must stay by him. Bat he cannot last long, poor man; aud THEX 1LY LEAVE MY CHURCH. You may resd this, if yon wiil, voursell.” I am g0 giad you have decided,” said Jargaret. “Yes," was the calm reply, “itis right, bat I don't know just what todo.” *In America——" began the girl. * Huah! co not temp: me,” ha eaid, but immedistely added, *‘Go on.” “In ‘America you caa find work. You can teach, and 50 get money to study ; you oan devote your life to what you will; can think, do, without old prejudices to crush you down. s And I would bave ahome?” Themonk rested his eyes on hers. *‘ Yes, cerfainly,” re- plied Magaret; and, 88 she met his longing, piteous look, s great wave of crimson swept up to her brow. [There Was a very little panse. ¢ But, it T should feel that Italv was my trus labor-field, Rome m§ homs, to lift my bretiron my work, if I were conviuced that here Iconld do the most good, should I not give up America, riches, learning, frecdom of thought acd life, & Lome, s wife3” Margaret: heard ibs mans deep breaths grow quicker, ard her heart scem- ed to stand still a4 she said: * It would ba brave.” “And right and truo? askod. “And right and troe,” she angvered. 5 He took her hand to say - good-by. * Here is the picture ; prcmisod to” show you,” said she. A sunbeam fell through the door, and over her face and band, as she held it .toward him. It waa & picturo of a bird with wings spread, flving upward; but below among the rocks lay the broken nest. “ Can yonroad it2" eaid Mare garet. “ Thoy shall mount up with wings as eaglea.” Margarat waited to tell her brother of the pa- pers untii she heard from the young monk ; bat three days after, as she was sittiug in her room, loolang, it must bo confessed, at theso sams pa- pors, she was atartiod by the hasty entrance of her sister, who dsked: * What have you here 2" She was a trifls aanoyed, and told her story with £ blushing facc. ¢ All nonsense,” szid her brother, when ha heard of it— . "*ROMANTIN NONSENSE; we must not lot Margaret fall in love with & monk.” *Or be converted sither,” said hix wife. “Ob, Edward!” So Edward and she catled the calprit to acconnt, and plaved elder brother and sister in a vory stern manner. Her silonce had looked iike deceit ; her proud quict- noss under their words scomed like scornful ob- stinacy ; aad Mr. Haaghton gre really very angry. *Lot me see thote papers,” he sad, in & taunting, suspicious tona. Bhe brought them Dbastily. * Read them,” she said, *if yon wonld Lnow how unjustly you aro blaming a brave, ho- Iy man.” *Holy! " shrieked Mrs. Hanghton, in new borror. *'Oh, Edward!™ Edward, with visions of a nun-sister aud a monk-brother, took the little packet, with its woight of struggles and resolves, aud tossed it Hgbtfy into the fire, Then Margarot spoke bittar, scorching words for & moment, They had their revenge for all that, The next mnmmg trunks were packed, businesa seutled; for ths Haughtons wore to leavo Bome. Da:garot was holpless. The Frate Filippo would think bhor_faithless,—his labored work all lost. ‘What could sbe tell bim, and how could she find 2 chance to wnite tohim? She would be sus- pected, watchod hourly. Still Margaret was young. Thero was a daring yet in her that felt it could surmount all diffi- cultics, and the fire of hope burned in her eves a8 sho stood in tho doorway, to take regretfully ber last view of Rome. Such a blue, soft air, such a golden sunlight! Even the street noises were sweotened by distant chanting. A proces- sion appeared. A cross in front nas draped in black, and the pricsts WERE BEABING A COFFIN. As thoy casme nearer, Margaret saw that the monks belonged to tue Franciscan ordor, andshe looked earnestly forward to catch s glimpso of her friend, following the body—tho monk, per~ hiaps, whom he had tended with such caro—to the grave. She looked at each face, but he was not there. As the Roys whom he had taughi passed, one of them—the samo who had brought Ler the noto—turned towards ber with a tearin his eye. ‘*\Who1s it 2" asked a passieg Cappu- chino of the child. And the boy replied, in soft- dustinet Italian : 11, Frate Fiureo."— Galazy for July. T S WAVING GRASSES. . Wave, grasees, wave, And bend low down and under, O young Ife just begun: Wave, grasses, wave, Aud bind in winsome wonder Tha graces of the Sun,— The fair, unrivaled graces old Mother.Earth has won, ‘YWave, grasses, wnve,—~ O delicate tnd tender, © Heaven-born and grand ! Wave, wave, O palpitating splendor 0f love within the Land,— ot loresin-treo and peerless, we Acaros msy unders stan B Wave, grasses, wave,— 0 littl baby-grasse imid, and O coy : raeses, WAV, 1n spiritual pasees Of grief-subduing joy,— In Hopo-creating pasacs, that time moy not destroy, ‘Wave, grasses, wave,— Q chiidren of the Even, O children of the Day < Wive, gragac, wave, Ta wonder-working Heaven, 11: Faith's own trustful way.— 1n: silent adoration that Lose alone may pay. Viave, grasses, wave,— Treaching up to mect thokinses th earth-impuseioned rain : YViave, grasses, wuo, In th catcbes, in the mizscs, In th dull, unmenning rain, — In th’ sad, unrestful loaging of th’ human brain. WALTER SPENGE PALMID, — The Troubles of Christopher Colums bus McPherson. From the Detroit Fyes ress. This boy wes a good boy. He would have been an angol to-day but for the doceit of this false-hearted world. He wasa't one of a sot of trivlets, and therefore didn’t have honors show- ered down upon him in bis early days, bou old , women 8aid there was foundation thers for az orntor, a groat General, or s philosopher. and old men examined his hezd and said it was lovel. Notbing particalar happened to Christopher Columbus until the eighth year of his reign. His childhood days wero fuil of mud-pics, the batt end of shinglos, paregoric, castor oil, snd old straw hats with the front brim worn off. He was & deep thinker and a close observer for a small boy, and he was just innocent enough ta believe things which other boss pitch oat of the window without a second thonuht. When Christopher was going oa 9 years old he heard som3 one ¢ay thata * penny eaved was two penco earned.” Mo thercfore laid a big Bung- town away in a crack under the mop-board, and every day he looked to see it grow to two centa. He had confidenco and patience, bat at length both gave way. Then he gotthe cent out ong day aud Blra. No::on's baby swallowedit, and that was the Iast of that Bungtown. The youth- fal Christopher didn't believe iu maxims quite ag ouch as before, but he hadn't cat all his eye- teath yet. ‘Wheu this boy was a _yoar older be heard 3t £aid that * truth was mighty and most prevail,” and that 8 boy who always spoke the truth wonld surely make a groat and good man. Ho com- menced to tell the truth. Oneday ho got his father's best razor out and hacked it on a stone, and when the old gont came home and aked who in biazes had done that, Christopher Col- umbus spoke up and said : 1t wa L, father—I notched your old razor.” #Youn did. eh?" sneered the old man, ashe looked up into & peach treo: “woil. I'll fix yon 50 yon won't naver notch another razor for mie!” ‘And he cat & bndding limb aod drossed that boy down until the youth saw stars. That night Cristopher Colambus detormined never to tell the truth again unless by accidont, aod all through life he atuck to the resolution. When the lad was about 12 yesrs old he resd in a little book that “‘houesty was tho best policy.” He didn't more_than half beleve it, but Lie thought he'd try. Ho went to being bon- est. One day hus mother sent him to tho grocery to buy eggs, and Bill Jones induced him t0 squan- der the change in the purchase of soda water. When he got home his mother asked for the littla balance, and Caristopher explained. “Spent it for soda, eh ?” che repliod. * Hera your poor old mother is working liko s sisve and sou are aronud swilling down soda-wator | I don't think you'll swill any more, I don't! Come over my might knee.” And she egitated nim in the liveliest manner. Tat night 18 ho turned on his downy straw bed the boy mage up his mind that honesty didn’c pay, and he resolved to cheat the wholo world if ha could. ‘When Christopher was half s year older, ha came across the injunction: *Bo kind to tha r.” He did not know whether it would pay or not, but he set about it. 1ia knosw of a poor “woman who sadly needed & spriog bonuet, and he took over his mother's, along with & few other things, including his father's second pawr of boots, his own Sundsy shoes, sud eo on. “Ho went around fecling very big-bearted until the old gent waoted to g0 to the lodge one uight, and then it came oat. Gin away my boota, el ?"” inquired the father; “lugged your mother's best bonnet off, en? Well, I don't think you'll remamber the poor very much afier to-night!” And he pounded Christopher Columbus with a pump bandle until the boy fainted away, and evea then didn't feel as though he had made » thor- ough job of it. ‘They fooled this boy once more. He heard & rich man sav that every body sould *‘make hay while the sun shone.” Bo when therecame & sunoy dsy he went ont, took his father's scythe down from the plum tree sod went to making hav. He broke the scythe, cut down the taps and backed bis sister in the Loel, sud hia motnes came out and led him ronnd by the hair, and bounced him until e almoat went into & declina. They eculd'nt bamboozle this toy after that. H¢ grow wickod every day of his life, snd beforo bi eighteenth birthdsy amrived he was hung fo murdsr. He said he 't cars a hucklebest about it, and died without making the asui Fourth of July oration.