Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, October 17, 1875, Page 3

THE YOUNG PEOPLE. purblind hedgehog—Bachelor— ¥ o rueful maxes, Eaowe potbiog dear outside bimself, fescts thirst ho pover slakes. 1 how many modest mals Lie low ke scricken deer; (ainmuious shafts gratuitony Thair lob embitter here. 1fsmportant misanthrope T N ellexciaim * sour grapes * s faig one to bis sutt B e hapes. with pride and livid rage e op s ok pecone discrimirating ones ‘id platnly speak their mind. jon's umpulse, fancy’s freak, B e ien fea the Tate 0! thougbuiess ones in eitber sex, Bepantint when (00 lute. 31 times, inBeed, "twere best for both 1.4 maden moet hall-way or ovesick §wain; siie knows t00 wall Bociety says *nay. some heediess butterfliss B te round and iu the flume, e wier, knowing opes must bewr ") swcepig 8. ighted name. f ltber sex all wisdom Liad, ‘What shouid become of Tu 4.dcil background, the Begative, ‘lietects like Jucent pocls. clime, or walk of life, ‘““,mfl a?l wrangle (il nelves atfatlt, fue for divoren, e 10 to disentangle, s bighest homage man may know B omau's trus fainess; 1o diocnees, sorrow's darkest bour, ‘He feeis Ler heipfuloiss. ve her of those sacrod rights By cold and heartlss purn.— 11 by you dare. —your Deacs of mind ‘gare pever will retarn. The wourded soldier owned bor pawer "To soothie Lis weary voes 1n bospital or blood -stained fleld,— “His beaith and apirits ross, he wifeless man is incomplete, His bocom dusolzte o tender, gentler, better haif To cheer bis lonely £t3te (). esven's simple plan can't be improved Fach Adam And sn Eve Jdentibed in beart and soul,— Apert they cannct live. Lefe's path bath mauy & crusl band § ‘Help each alung tho road; Waive projudice, your weal consult, Love lightens e Ty load. e Harpx Buxoir, N-LAWRY. £othe Bditer ef The Cliicago Trivune Cacsas, Oct. 13.—The matrimonisl question s been diecussed in your columans m nearly all siphases, Thevaresd with mingled: wonder ‘d aimiration the meny commausications on tho fbject,—wondar that euch nniformity of senti- pent fs apparent oo somA& points, and admira- i 0f the conrazo shown by many of your cor- respondents of both ¢exes 1n expressing their scnset convictions upon & sabject wiich is of fach vital importance to us 21l With your permssion Iwill give to thesympa~ titicg world the expericaces of & much-abused dvidoal—much sbused in the bosom of his tunits, whers it is generally concaded the sway of ibelord and magter is absolute. I have beard of saees ke mine, but they mos: havo been of a wlder £ype, or the world would not mow be so tycklysattled. Inall that I may say I shall A maa who al- fors bimself to get mad 14 not ouly wesk and Of that de- smption of persons I am no: vve, I ecorn to eadsavor o keep my {empar. soolish, but is ant Lo Lo uojust. iia advantage except On Yery rare ocazsions. 1 approach the taeme of mv present latter with fesr a0d {rembling. Perbops this reluct- weeonmy part will €0 tinge aud warp my thoughts 38 to render thea of liitle avail in pointing ont the manifold .grievancos under which Isafferand endnre my present martyr- jom. Letmetryand divest myself of ali per- soual prejudices sud teil a talo which, though it iar diselo- mes no: be new, has yet its own peculiar wares 10 recommend it. « g of this [¥CI In fartherance of ms parpese io buildiog this scrrescondence, it ‘is peceary to sinto that @ Lave 0o objections to anybody having & mother dtber cam afford jt. 1 uved to think it was & very nics thing to Lave oge, and I beliove there 1ot cartein condirious pow under which & peigon of that 130d 16 a real blessivg in = fsmily. Dot 1] remarked in the esrly {)ufiion of 1his letter, T mpy be msled by mejndice, xod 1 desire to explsin in advance that my futter experience in_tLat line bas—so fo nuk~distmbed the usual genial currents of L is s possibility that wy woul and etirred me up generally. Ourfamily is suiall numerically, yet we have T the cong pts, mostls all, of o large e of these peculianties s Zolwceable to me,—wbo bave so far lived at Bome peoplecall thin conversation, but they who do B aé not pasticular as to the choice of words. tnow wlhat talg 1s, although I am oot per- mted to exerciee the privilege to any great ex- 2L Talkis bera when a parson foels gociable 1:tas the time, and the neceseary surround- bgr, 20d eits down for a while, with Hobody’s sublshment. bome—s0d that’ 18 sbundance o talis. teistions to interfere. ‘Inat's what I call galk. Bu: the talk I'm used to don't come within the ovo cstegory. 1t i 88 unlikeas the deluge to L0 summer ghower. 1t 1alls arie npop the just Wtos unjust, and is, ou tbo whole, & plagae Ywrarsd to which the grasshopper, cholera, Yellowfever, and the L, are fist-clsss bless- ¢ all haze our establishments, that is, we who Rtmumicd, and think we, can affordit. Tha ¥ kuows ug a8 Mr. and Mrs. So and $2. We, 2 family, are doubtless supposed to keep an : Wo bave ons \og established, and that s an essablished 1t dod it is that very Fact which leads to all 0 woes. I think this Fact to which 1 bave oc- is letter is & very stub- ¢atlishmeot. Well, we do. Qtionally glinded 1 this 1 one. At )east, I have found it Bo. tbere any person who, haviog the light of :fin befars bim or her. could objec: to suoth- mmlm_noang their own company? The aaom. § thik § ma¥ with truth sas, waits for me. Socratcs lived several years ago. eullered much all_throagh dxentronh los 5 story £ that he died from Lemlock administered by Pablic authorities for alleged ofeuses o State. 1 have my own theory on that ject. 1refase to beltave Xanuippe was his b Lin a3 frmly impressed upon my mind i e 28 indelible sy bitter expenience can prin 1D that this same Xentippe waa the mother- g the 0ld phulosopher, and that throngh menl—mmded woman s good man came to his by & vinegar-minded woman. nives the bt , EES:I came to go back 50 many years fora hare fpo, AB2Cc0untable 1o me. 1 know that we mflbm m sbundance all around us. Is i ‘;:l 0 assert that & family is s family Amother-ju-law is concerned. There i8 anily ». "ty wonid lead s to expect. 10 tax—collector, E::n b2y vet Gared to call me_hard names. braved the butcher sod his two beef- Saobore: I bave coolls ordered the bull-terrier to quit my steps xo ‘;fwm his talxs and {astly, in the extremity frowned inveigle my family iof e idea of 318 ickets faf i Luzest ciureh sociable. All yitve T done, pot because I am bard-heartod, 120, a8 1 have before eaid, of the pecul- By iodigoation, I have From "ho wflze doar the egisting in my household. Lbave o gees - . &dy\. . Gegire (0 1y anything s ord of wanuag to thoss who bave yet to ;":fih«h that 15 fikely to be beset with such in- o 1 bave hereinbefore desciibed. I've wl jection, yon know. Misery likes company s misery requiresa good deal of company - B eary tho vicum through. YetI am ge quie well ai presant. ied. Whom I married or who mar- t neoassary to ay lain in the tell- g ower-true tale.”” The parsou to viox 1 hnked v fortnnes has a motber. Thero ®uothiog particolatly strange iu fhat. I bave, = fact, beard of fust such instances beloic. There mes bave been other facts comeident with aigslate of tltngs that sro of themselves trite 1nd @als, but they sreno: of mv Enomledge, wod come 1ot withun the scope of this parsicalar 22 mild-wanoered man. I waotsny own :E Mme time, becsuse I pay my dues from neither of which T | vocation, and the poorest of God's servants pe- o auy- by ‘atiops. I had no intention of ssyiog i 0 againet anybodv's friends when I cem- 1his fetter. Y oniy thought I wonld eav YHE CHICAGO TRIBUNE: SUNDAY OCTOBER 17, 1875.~SIXTEEN PAGES. 8 in the country. I have faith in_Provi- dence. There ~ are saccidents daily on the railroads ; still thera is not much to hope, at this season of tho year, from thunder-storma. Green apples, water-melons, and cucumbers have done their work, and it only remains for Providence in its own good time to bring aboat the day when we can say in the fulless of our hearts, Rest in Peace. Yours, Jams Drce. X. B.—The world ig large. This remark is in- | tended to remind you of the vast space which would ba n to accommodate the party above alluded to if she wera to rush into print. Take the advice of a friend, and don't publish a ‘ward she saya. 4.D. P. 5.—1f you should bappen to Lhear of sny family in want of a governess pleasa let me koow throngh the colamns of your great paper, I bave s person in my mind's eve who is good at governing. and it would be a great pleasure and zelief to recommend hor. J.D. A JOURNALIST'S EXPERIENCE. Te the Editor of The Chicago Tribune : Cuzcago, Oct. 15.—Although I have hsen an interested reader of the numorous letters on the matrimonial question which have been adding attractiveness and value to your columns for soms time, I have had no thonght of entenng the lists 88 a contributor myself until the ap- pearance in Sundsy's issue’ of the very sopsible communication from ™ the pen of Miss *Beatrice,” which calla to mind the only love experience of my life, and with your permission I will relate it “as the basis of afew remarks,” 88 clergymen actually eay of their texts, I graduated in my 19th year with sl the honors of s first-class institution, and very soon afier entered upon the study of the law in the ofice of a well-known legal firm in Fouthern Iowa. Thetwo geutlemen comprising the firm took a great interest in me, rendering me much assistance, and by diligent application, 1 made such astonishing progress that in léss than eighteen months from the time I entered the of- fice 28 5 student I found myself fully fledged a8 a Iswyer, with suthorily to practice in all the conrts of the State, and with eutire charge of the business of the firm, or at least 8o much of it as [ should be able to retain, both gontlemen having retired from the practice. 1n the mean- time I had formed the acqusintsnce of & young 1ady possessing both beauty sod fortune, and, being opposites in temperament but of congenial tastes, we had soon learned to love sach other. I Bay **we,” for I am certan my passion was fuily reciprocated, although neither of us had ever given verbal expreseion to our feelings. Dut actions are said to speak more loodly than words, and I believe we were eqnally satiefied and happy in the sweet consciousness of loving and being loved. 1 visited her regularly every week, and, believing that my ‘‘destiny” was gettled, I devored my entirs atfeution to my business, prosecuting it with all the vigor and energy 1 possessed, striving to 1ay np sometbing for the fature, and to_establish such a reputa- tion for honesty and ability a8 wonld insure me = stsnding and & name in m;lugrofessmu, only stopping now and then in the st of my labors 10 dresm of & cosy home in & nest hitle cottage on the verdant™ hillside, with the object of my affections as the presiding geniue, casting the sunshine of happiness o'er hfe's pathway, and cheering me With her smiles when the day's work wss done. But, alas! my sweet dreams ware not to be roalized. Tyme passed on and dialed a-chaoge in the course of our lives. The good-looking girl whom I bad first known developed iuto s bewitching beaaty, with s host of admirers, some of whom were possessed of s goodly fortune. Then for the firgt time I realized my true position. I was nothing bata poor lawyer, strugglng for a liveli- 004, solving knotty problems of the law for lit- igious clients, or defendiug some poor criminal for a small and uncertain fee, while she was rich a0d charmingly haudsome,—thie petted and idol- ized - heiress of her father's hundreds of thou-~ nds. Would she be willing to leave the roomy splen- dor of her father's luxurious mansion and take up her abode within the contracted walls of the humble cottsge which I could afiord, and bs contented and happy on 8 modest income of £1,200 por vear? I 6tudied her nature, consid- eréd her extravazant habits, her mosrdinate de- sire for dress, and ber love of ease, and pain- folly admiteed to myse;f that she could not. I Lpew that her father would be willing to help me, and would ot disapprove of mgunion with his daugbter, but, like ** Beatrice's ” brother-in- 1as, Isbould gcorn toreceiveassistance from sach & sionrce. 1 thiok it gnite enough to ask s fathar for bis dsughter withont being & pensioner on his bounts. It was o terrible strizgle to give up 8 hope which had 8o long been the gaiding star of my actions, but 1kmew that my success in life and fature bappiness dzoended o tae courae I should take, and I ceased all atteations whatever. In lessthan s vear sho married s man of iofluence aud smpie ‘ortune, but twice ber oge, and I ecarcely beheve she hag ever been hapoy. She loves me gtill, and. had she possess- od the courage and good Kcnge of Miss * Boat- rice,” or her deceased eister, I believe we hoth would have been happier all these yests a8 man sod wife. T have no feelinf; of affection for her mow. T ceased at buce to fove her when she became the wife of another man. But— The eaddest words of tongue or pen 15, wiaat might have becn. Wealth caunot brmg heppiness, but it may and does add to that already existing. Itisthe mediam by which we may obtain the luxuries of 1ife, but there is such & thing ss love and happi- nosh in & coteege whers “ two hearia beat ag oue,” sod where hasband and wife go forward with incressing years ** lesiting on each other 25 the olivo and the vine." ‘Muel has been said about ladies’ extravagance, & great deal of which i8 the thinnest kind of woneense, and if I had not airesdy trespassed on your space I wonld answer one or two nerties. My observation has been that men spend more ‘Tmouey foolishly than tbe I whose extrava- gance they have been consuring g0 seyerely, o conclusion I will say that I am 27 years of ece. and do not know a girl in sll tho wide world “hom I woald csro to merry, but whenever I find one possessing those qualities of mind and beart which I sdmire, and I love her, I shall offer myself,—provided, slways, that she will Sccopt,—whother hor mariiage settlement is a shilling or & million, as 1 consider love the only sine qua non of & happy, married life. ‘Now. Mr. Editor, yoa hsve the experience of a ournslist, and when we get yours, which we ope will be soon, we wiil compare. 2 No. 6 Fanen. KEEP WITHIN YOUR OWN CIRCLE. To the Editor of The Chicago Tribune: Cimcaoo, Oct. 13.~1t does not sppear to me that any of the letters from the ‘matrimonially inclinod strike st the root of the aifficulty, or that they offer any solution of & social problem which hes taxed the brains of geverations. The railings of & goody-goody young man againsc the ‘‘belle,” or the vapid criticisms of a prim Aiss Mary of our ++besux,” are marely individual opiaions, founded upon peronal biss. There are ‘belles, and there must ‘be young men of similar tastes, in every condition of life; but that the fondness for dancine, elegant apparel, snd the excite- ment of aristocratic life, should presappose & 1ack of maidenly charm, s heart desd to all noble sentiment, is a8 false a8 it is malicious. History rocords few mora coursgeous deeds than that brilliant cherge of the Six Hundred, rendered {amous by Tennyson. Yet these men were the pets of society; tbey dsuced, waxed their mustaches (for aught I know to fhe con- trary), parted their hair in the middle, ete., ete. Yot they faltered not, e'en at the cannon’s mouth, and in their death how meny a wife mourned the loss of & trne-hearted busband, bow many & mother mourned over the untimely end of an affectionate son | Peg Woffington, in silks snd sativs, had @ womsn's beart, keenly alive to every novle sentiment. Society has dis- tinctions;—caste, if yoa like,—and the life of one Ir. at least no such compact as the dio- | grade is of course inconsistent with tne proper {dess of thosa who are not within the curcle. The modes of living in each are naturally differ- ent aod unsuitable each for the other, uot that genuine worth msy Dot exist in the humblest como_one of the brightest omaments of Hia eatthly Kingdom, but that there are reco; Gistinctions which cavil cannot overthrow, and which form for themselves characteristio rales of life. If, theo, the mechanio, be he of the worthiest, reach forward for one who by birth, surroundings, education, and wealih hss been reared in sn eutirely different stmosphere, he must not become guilty of ihe sublime folly of sccusing her of s want of proper dignity sod reserve because ghe In- dulges in those refinements and amusements which have been her daily babit, and to, which she has long been acoustomed. Thig is unman- 1y, and, should the man bave sisters of bis own. very inconsiderate. Equslly as wrong is it for him $0 upbraid her for lscking the domestic knowledge which is necestary for s gistors sod_ their associates to kmow. bat which it bas mever been important that the other should scquire. The bright, 's | pure gems of womanhood, thaok God, can be met with in the fastest waltz that Strauss ever berwitchod our ears with, as well as in the fac- tory, the Arossmakers’ or the Rewing girls' rooms. How much rarer an exotic i8 the— Gentleman,—such as Calvert defines it. Tho mistake is here: We rear up an idoal, slmost 1rom boyhood, grasping for the phantom here and thers, forgetting tne real, which muat bave fauits, and which can never approach the imagerv of a wild dreaming. Thes, too, each one should marry vithin his sphere. For the Iaboring msn. on 8800 & year to expect the belle with expecta tions, rocking in the lap of socisl lmxury, to assume control of his kitchen, bakery, ete., to assume an entirely new habit of lifs, to mste with one with whom she conid pot afiliate jo- tellectually, je simply absurd. And yet they both may have warm, loving hearts, which would make some oOne, more nearly their cqusl, forever happy. There are plenty of ' good, mensible girla whose lives have been cast in different molds, who have been used to work, who would make such aman a useful wife. First teach a woman to Tespect you, to trust you, to have umplicit faith in your honor, then be sure that you koow her well, and lot the love follow. A man should be able to raise & woman up to him, rather than that she should have to attempt the almost 1m- possible task of elevating him. genuine worth need never fear, 88 indead it never does, of not. flnd!uf ity due appreciation and ultimate reward. Obly the conscience-smitten and un- Bavary ones complain. Youxe Paysionax. METAPHYSICS OF MARRIAGE. To the Editor of The Chicano Tribune: Cm10a60, Oct. 11.~The very many plessing effusions which have appeared in your valuable journal upon the matrimonial question have, in the main, dealt with the sentimental pbage of it. I may be pardoned, possibly, for attempting to view it from a more realistic plane. Without belittling the part which the impulses must play in all heart-uniops, and which have been got forth in so many shades by your corredpondents, it scems to mo that a consider- Ation of the other poiats—phyaical, wtellectual, and moral—involved in the doterminstion to marry should give the matrimonial question & prominence in ressoning minds beyond that which aspirants for the honeyed bond are in- clined to accord to it. Were we to marry merely for ourselves, and the frnits of our choice for good or il not reach beyond our owm cycle of breath, we might be pardon- sble in s selfishness that would lead us to gratify our own fevered impulses; but where the act of two young creafures infusing their natures in tho warmth of senti- mental affection, reaches out and affects tho hap- pioess, the hoalth, the intellectuality, and the morslity of remote generations, matrimony cor- tainly assumes as importance hoyond the mere gratification of the senses. Fortunataly, in this conneotion, Naturo comas in to assist, by certain fixed rales of hers, our erring fudgments. I know it is humiliaing for Jovers, who pride themselves in the belief that the gush of their young loves is the work of mo nagent 8o low a3 physical condition, but the unconditional work of & mythical, {ntangible spirit of love, to have to learn that, after all.their fevered pulse and flow of soul, matrimonial unions are secretly guided and governed through & vastly more material- istie origio. There i8 more jn Darwin’s beausi- fully framed hypotbeais of ** sexus! eelection ™ than the mere chimera of a scientist and phi- losopher. The attachments tbat briog abont marrisge are mavipulated, unconsciously to the victims, by the hidden leading-strings of heakth and strength, The evidence of close observers and Lonest reasopers on this subject lead to the dictum that the secret of tho success of those who in the Iottery of life draw most renlily the prize of matrimony lies in the pogsession of bodily and mental virtues,—good looks, buoyant constitu- tions, and cheerful tempere. Those who do not bold winping tickets are the uvfortunate mor- tals who do not poseess these attributes. If you uostion this deduction, look about you for thoss who have striven for the matrimopial yoke snd faled to get thelr peck: into it, and yon will become convinced that in nine cases out Of 1ep these por- sows ara crusty, crabbed natures, the sourness of whoss livers shows in_their faces; or discased bodies whosp infirmities taint their minds. There are, Of course, exceptions to this patural sequence, causcd by tendencies, some . of which may be laudable, others certainly not so. Of the first clasa are those instances of affection, culminating in marriage, inspired by maried virtues, disiingunished talents, worthy renown, or high accompiishments, thongh not accompa- nied by healll, strength. or grace of per- son; of tho latter are that class of matrimonial unions fo which love plays no part,—marriages Wwhere raok, wealth, or influence sre allowed to overbalance diseased bodies, crooked patures. and disordercd minds. ‘We, none of us, need any illustration berond our oD obeervation of bow money and socia) rank will cover over tha daokest growth of bodily or mental disorder to the matrimonial bargainer. The trath remains, however, despite these ex- coptions, that, of those who have arrived at a proper age, both men and women Of tho mar- ried state aro, on the average, healthier, more cheerful, more pleasing in_their looks, and pos- geus more vitality of mind and bods then those who are left to pues the middle stage of life in single blessedncas (or cussodness). 1n this relation, the vital statistics of Scotland illustrato s fact that, only to & less degreo of positiveness, bas been outlived by several phi- Janthropista of our own and other countries, It ia that married men are endowed with longer lifo than the unmarried. The tables of Scotland show that at every quinqueonial period of life from 20 years 1:p to 45, single men dio af the rate of {wo to one for the married men; after that period ur to 85 years, the difference, though less. is still very considerable. in_ favor of ths greater lon- gevity of married men. Of women, even though from obvious causes the married state would be supposed to muliiate sgains: the married class, similar data proves married women to be tha Tongest livers to sn slmost equal degrae. Thers 1s, after all, up to a certain Doint, no mystery n this condition of sffairs. The married of both goxes ara_likely as & class to be the betier fed, botter clad, aud better cared for,—in a word they are the better livers, The unmarried will, from natural causes, include mauch the grester ‘Damber of sickly and diseased coustitutions ; the orderly aod well conducted, and those in favora- ble circumstances of bealth, wealth, and in- tellect, sceking the comforts of a settled Jife, and thus escapiug the ills which fall to the lot of the single. Dut, making allowance for all this, thera yet romains the fact that the denth rate of the married is at all seayons of life below that of the nomatried, aud, therefore, throwing aside all conditional eequences, the married state is potably favorable, in the msin, to_ health, cheorfulness, 8nd vitality, by leading to regular habits of life, and giving natural scopa to domestic_affectione. May we oot sonclude, then. that it is a good thing to marry? And, in sssuming this, it is not necessary for our good #180 to assume that in marrying we leave behind all the ills flesh 18 heir tv in single life,—the snxiaties, cares, and sorrows especially of a mun- dane existence. Some of these are actually ee- eential to a healthy condition of miud and body, 203 evon su occasionsl ripple in the flow of matrimonial felicity may be heralded s8 a blessing, seting, like 8 summer shuvder shower, 28 a purifier of the elements. I believe it was Paley who, when a gentleman assertedin bis pres- enca that in forty vears of married life he naver had a difference with his wife, observed that ib must have been zery flal. A breeze ruffling the beads of ripened grain, or stirnng the under- growth of somo retired dell. serves to revesl to us hidden foims of besuty and delight we had not dreamed of. CHERBY JAMES. ONE MORE “EQUIVALENT” FOR ELISHA WORTH. To the Editor of The Chicapo Triburs: Cricago, Oct. 11.—I imsgine Elishs in his Inxuriously furpished room at the Palmer ‘House, ‘Iremont, or Grand Peoific, lolling lazily back in some softly-cushioned chair, ‘‘while majestic Bweainess sita enthroned " upon bis no~ ble brow, as he contemplates the rings of smoke 28 they curl, gracefully from the bowl of his exquisitely-colored meerschaum pipe, and I hear him exclaim in ectasy of delight ashe heaves & deep sigh of relief, ** Thauk the fates Iampots married man : have not the burdens of anextrav- agsnt wifa and large family to weigh me down.” Poor Elishs, I am really afraid that. were yous married man, you would be compelled to sing with our much loved post— And the burdens Isid upon me Bocm greater thsn I can bear, Marringe is too sacred to be dealt lightly with, and is the type of too holy a union to be the by-plsy meroly of careless women. 1 must acknowledge. howaver, that my sex do offer too many opportunities to the “lords™ to criticise, but surely Elisha, nor no other confirmed o0ld ‘bachelor, will assert that all imperfecuons and extravagances can be laid at the door of the ladies. Neither can he say the inordinate love of atyle, dress, sud personsl BppeArapce is confined to the fair dames, else Why does e cultivate with 50 much pleasure the sriistinally-ontlined mustache or Burosides ; why does hio clothe his magnificent form in such per- fectly-fitting broadcloth and cassimere ; why is the jramacnlate neck-tie twinted into so_taste- fally fashioned knot ; snd why 80 aatidious ss to gloves, boots, and other requisites of a fashiousble toilet? Young msn, we will be can- did ; we admire all this devotion to art, and ask you in the mest amisble spirit poesible, don't burl such poisoned darts of ridicule and sarcasn at our defenselesshends for petraying the same folly of which you. most noble Festus, are jity, Had you ever taken sn honesy meug;x% ’ct your superionties, you would feel little like bosatiog. You little know how we rip, turn, and ‘ make over” lsst year's wern mfi(, copverting _i¢ _into & beautiful, elegant garment for the present sesson ; neithar are you initiated in the secrets of a 1ady's eewing.room, especially you who have no visitors. Uufortunste, indeed, is the man who allows the strong, dsep love of manly affections to centre upon that frivolous, heartless ponen- tity, a fashionable woman, one, 1 mean, who de- votes her entire sttention snd time to the adorn- ment of her frail body, forgettiog the highor adornzgent of the soul, aud who, instead of ptriving earnestly sntl fruls for culture of the mipd, whiles sway the precious hours of life over Lo povel, the card-tsble, and in the bail- room. Neither do wehlamo our noble brother for foarivg the elntches of that most. abominable cresture, the mother, who deliberately plans her Ganghter's futnre, and with immodeat basto and unwousanly ambition, pushes her child npon the matrimonial market, and makea her simply & commodity to be bought and sold, and who finds in her future son-in-law s commis- sariat only; but at the same time we do nat ad- mire the copsoious superiority with which he Bteps ok and exhoris 10 greater economy, for- gettiny that mapy men &re l)roud of certain moratities, though these ave all they bave. And we canpot allow tho stigma to rest upon our sex of marrying for money. Every woman is de-~ pendens, and must bave some ono to love, and it is as nataral for her sffections to go out to the strong character of man, s8 it is for the ivy to twine round the ~ stardy oak. Many times a woman is acensed of marryivg for riches, 8 home, when in fact she gives to the object of her affections the purest, tenderest love. One motive only should Setuste the husband and wife—they must bear and forbear. The busband should leave his business cares in bis office or store, not allow them to come stalking into the home circle, marring the delights of domestic life. As he turns the key to the door of his business-house, e should lock in the troubles of business life, and as the wife draws the shades of night to ghut out the world of outside Life, she must also drop & curtain over the worries of the day. Make home 8 trysting place, and welcome the evening hour when your cares **will fold their tents like the Arab and silently stesl nwsy." “DAISY" LOSES HER TEMPER. To the Editus of The Chicago Trivune: Esaresoop, Oct. 12.—Lord of the “ Lonely Six": In reply toyour ungentlemanly epistle X ‘might indite pages, but will refrain, since guar- reling is not my motive. I am most inclined to “ harangus ' the editor for allowing such & « retort ' to find its way into the matrimonial columns, since it proved such s sad deviation from the subjoct; but if heis the gentiemal e take him to be, he will, I tbiuk, let * Daisy " bave the * last s2y.” Young geots of the myatic * Lonely Six," if 0u have not had soms of your ** ideas knocked,” you may congratulate youraclves that you have been * stirred np with & loog poles™ and a re- marksbly thorough stirring up, too. jodging from the natpre of your remarks. 'Tis & pity I'm such **a child,”~havu't reached my second childhood anyway, which is the case with some. Why didn't yoa e mv Mamma to iovest in s «\ Centennial spsuk" while you were apout it? Wouder i it wouid be out of place with the six infants who have each contributed a finger to this pie? AMothinks not ! Thaoks for the * pen picture,” bnt I have no love to waste on Etrawberry-blondes, nor do I particalarly sdmire young geatlemen whose +ipedela® outweigh their ‘“upper story.” Peoplo blessed with Iarge extremitios are sup- posed to posesa s good * understanding.” I sm not convinced that it {8 80 in your case; you cartainly have the gift of misconstruction. Don't think I meant I'd_been * held in,” but it is sometimes best **to hold 1n.” 1In conclusion, I believe yon * ot ont ™ to ask «Daigy " & fow questions? But, alas! your feet got the atart of your head thete. T only menfioned_this, not that I cared to measare them, bat becanso I should not have been averse to replying to a few ¢ common- sense " queries, had you asked thom, But “let us have peace.™® Dasy, “BARKIS 1S--NOT--WILLIN." To the Editor of The Chicago Tribune : Cumicsco, Ocw. 14.—The picture of domestic duties and felicity drawn by your correspondent « Fair Play,” i8 certainly unique, and in itself is caleulated to golve the problem, *Why men don't marry.” . 8be 8 evidently of- the Lady Gay Spanker school, snd, in addition to the duties eEetched out for her Dolly. no donbb she would bavo other small matters ol a domes- tic pature in store for the partner of her con- Dubial bliss (2) upon his retarn from the office, such g8 dish-weshiog, a few elops empryiog, & turn at the wash-tab, and, as a matter of course, the mopping of the floor; while my lady might be photographed in & recumbent position, read- ing the latest sensation novel. and the children, if any, sprawling sbout the floor. It may very properly be ssked what would such a Peagoty be to any Barkis? She could not be s helpmeet, but s drag upon his future prosperity. . Amorican Women, as & rule, Iack domestic training; there are very few of them, comparatively, that could tell what portion of beef ‘‘the brisket” is, or the staring-joint from the portion so valuable o sonp-making. Intellectual accomplishments I do not under- valae, bat for & man who has to earn his daify bread. either by his _intellect or the sweat of his brow, choosing a wife becsuse she can write s Jetter to_the press, thrum & piasno, oOr ape the Jady, he must be foolish indeed ; and, shonld ke have the misfortuue to bo hooked to euch an one, he will find they are only of o sec- ondary consideration, and a more suitable ac- compiishment would be the handling of a dish- cloth, the baking of breed, and learning o do her own markating, instead of sending her Dolly ont in tho mornjog for balf a pound of batter in one hand snd a 5-cent loaf stuck un- der bis srm before he could have either his breakfast or lus lunch packed. BABKIS. THIS IS POSITIVELY DISCOURAGING. T the Eastor of The Chicago Tridune : Caicago, Oct. 7.—Bince the matrimonial busi- ness has been so thoroughly discussed I have ‘been interested and smnsed. Last Sanday yon sald you wanted to hear from those who had been long married, and get their opinion. That is my case. Twenty-five years have I been marriod, and bave seen varions fortnmes. I have brought up boys aod girls. My boys, I hops, will mwry a8 soon as they are able to support & wite, for I thing it keeps them out of temptation’s way, and they will make purer, better men. My girls I demire to teach in some way to earn their owa living, and to con- sider the marriage question as of no worth at ail. Judging from my own experience, they are better off withont being married if tbey can earn their own living. Let them not marry youog and poor, a8 1 did, and tread a weary round for yeas of drudging house- work apnd weansome cara of children, tul all smbition and desire for improvement of any kind 18 lost in the one desire o make the money £o 28 far aa it will, and then to find ay lsst, 88 I have, that my husbaud hasn’t sp- precisted my life 1n his service. What is it all worth? If it wasn't for the comfort of the children, and the love they have for me, I conld willingly die to-day. It cannot half be written ; bat letme advise the girls to lears some way to be perfectly independent of maukind. There are 80 many things for girls to do. 1 know s Iady who makes designs for marble- workers. The working of the marbla itself can, and has been, done by women. Wood carving isnice work. Workiog in jewelry »nd watch- making, photograph work, decorative painting of all kinds. Plenty of nice things are left for females to do if they will g0 into it 8s men do— for)ife, and to earn their living. I fearIhave taken too much room; but this is a subject on which I feel deeply, and have thought & good deal A MOTHER. Lsst evening, a fellow -hgguriwg under & losd of enjoyment passed down C street. In front of Mallon's store were piled four ampty boxes; consequently there was a collision. en at length the hesp of enjoyment was segregated from the wreck, and assumed s wavering upright positian, the proprietor thereof, thinking be had been knocked down for ‘scme impertinent ro- mark, apologized by saying, *‘S'za darn’d lie— nev' zed 't."— Virginia (Nev) Enlerprise. “MAMMY.” 1t w=s a stony, neglected fisld, powdered with ox-eyed daisies and dotted with dandelions— golden dandelions that Jooked like spots of sun- shine on. the green grase and among the crevices of the rocks and the gnarled roots of the oak trees that were scattered here and there. There were carriages and bupgies standing about, zud horses, some tied to tbe lower branches of the trees, 8thers held by the little negroes belonging {o the plantation, In this field, away off beyond the houss, was 8 6quare wooden railing painted black, and within it wers grassy mounnds, some large, some emsll; and nowin one corner had been dug another long deep hole, and the earth lay scat- tered around it red and fresh. Friends and neighbors had drawn near, some within the in- closure, others leaning againat the black railing. The coffin had been roverently lowered; and, ‘whxle the sun slowly saok snd bathed the grain in a flood of mellow Jight, and flickered among the leaves that trembled overhead, clear snd solemn o the summer air feil the words, I am the resurrection and the life.” “Earth to earth; dust to dust; ashes to sshes.” And esch time there was the'thud of falling earth and the rattling of clods, and the hollow answer that 60 many aching hearts can recall ; and thero were half-repressed cries and ehoking sobs, and still the grave was surely and ingvitably filled ; another mound w8 raiged and spaded into shape ; stones were placed, one at the head, another af the foot, to mark the sleep- er's place : and than ehe wag left alone, the sweet young wife and mother. As Mr, Larratreo and hia sister returned to hia desolate home, his eyes rested on his chil- dren, Nelly and Graco, two littlo motherless things, with fair, carling hair and innocent blue oyes hike those in the coffin out in the feld. They sat on the piazza-steps in little white rocks, their bair tied back with black ribbons ; and Mammy eaf botween them in & white turban and cape and a black dress she had worn before their mother was born. She was about 70 yesrs old, with s Jow black forehead fall of wrinkles, and & broad flat month containing only the yel- low remains of teeth, aud tho rim of bair that peeped out from under her turbss had been gray for many & year. fiza little black eyes had ~reiined their bright- ‘88 and cunoing, but the balls had turned yel- low and the lids grown flabby, and Mamuy coald Dot fasten the children's clothes so deftly as she bad_their mother'’s ; but, ah! bow indignaatly would they have repelied the idea_that she was wing or conld zrow useless, and her plaeo be etter filled! How obedient they were to her delegated authority! and how tolerant of the little shakes and jerks sho sometimes admin- istered! How trustful of her love and emulous of the praisas ehe was lavieh in bestowing | Yes, Mammy, you were wrinkled and black. and ofd and ugly ; you were ignorant and narrow-mind- d and soperstitions,—but yon were trae to your nurslings, and_tender as true; and they gave you back your love with s fervor which Deither time por taste nor rerson could affect. As Mr. Larrantree and his sieter approached, Mammy stood up and the children spraog for- ward to mest thom. < Papa,” said Grace, * what you alibeen doin’ 7 Mammy said for us not to go, Fou wonld be mad.’ ‘Would yon be mad, papa? ™ He beld her in bis_arms, and his eves were blina with tears : ** Mammy was right, baby— papa did not want you to go.” * “Ap’, papa, what you reckon 2" asked Nelly. « Mammy was tellin’ us 'bout Mr. Rabbit sud _Mr. Wolf, an’ she cried ‘cause Mr. Wolf eat Mr. Rabhit up. Mamwy keeps oryin' when ain't anybody been doin’ & thing to her; 20, papa,” continned the cauld_beginping to cry bergelf, ** I want mamma, an’ Mammy says she's gone 1o sleep, an’ the door 15 shut, an’ we can’t getin. Can’t we goin, papa? on't you wake mamma up Horr could be answer except by teara? ‘And poor old Mammy! As night came an and the childron grew tired of play or were sickened with sweets, it almost broke her heart to see the blae eyes full of tears and the corners of the little mouths drawn down, while the red lips trombied and the cbildish voices oriad_over and over again, I wanl my mamma! I waot my mamma!” And a8 pight after night the black ribbons were laid sside, and'the motherless children pub on their little white nightgowns, Mammy racked her poor old brain for marvelons tales, and got dowa on her 81 old knees by the little trundie- bed, and placed ber lofu arm under Nolly’s head, whila ghe patted Grace's shonider with her right hand, till ahe was stiff and sore, and the white turban bobbed suspiciously up ana down ; bat there was no break in_the cbain of events that took place between *Bir. Rabbit and Mr. Woif,” and Mammy did not steal her arm away till tho cariy beads were motionless and the httle lips Tiad ceased to ask why mamma elept 8o long. Davs dragged siowly by, and crystallized into woaks, and at length thegoverness had come, and Mr. Larrantree’s sister felt compelled o return to the charge of her own family. Before she Qid 8o, however, she requasted that Miss Enner- by wonld bo very tender with the children, as they wero of & norvous temperament, and had been accastomed to much indulgence. 1 spall not deoy them anv reesonable indal~ gence,” eaid Alss Ennorby stifily ; “*but chil- &ron have no rizht o be nervous : T shail make it my business to conquer the tendency.” I do not mean to say that tney are nervous,” roplied Mrs, Allerton, who was very unfavorably impressed by ber new scquaintsnce: “I meant ‘merely to cail your attention to the fact that they are of & nervous temperament, and should be favored with greater indulgence of a certain nature than— " ? + Permit me to difer with you,” said Miss Ennerby. “My decided opinion is, that they should ‘bo bardened befors this tendoncy be- comes a radical evil." "As Mrs. Allerton regarded the light cold eves, the short 1ashes, the thin lips and square jaw¥ of the woman before her, her heart misgave her, and she trembled for the happiness of her little niecs; buk it waa pow too Jate to do sught but wait, and hope, and pray. Biss Ennery hnd been recommended by a neighbor, and Mr. Larrantreo bad met ber once or swice at this meighbor's house, bué that wag all. He had pot observed her suf- fciently to form any clear impression of her character, and 1is mind was now in » state of such depression that he accepted at once the 8id firat offered, and had employed Miss Ennerby in the contidence based upon his peighbor's judgment. . ufortunately, as she feared, for the matri- monial designs with winch Mies Ennerby entered on her duties, Mr. Larrauiree was calied away on business the dsy after her amival, and she bad only time to ascertain that ho sgread with hor ‘fully on one point; children shonld pe taught to be self-reliant and induced to develop their moral muscte. She bad, thorefore, mo doubt of bis spprobstion When ehe commenced the bardening pro- coss by commanding Mammy, after the children were undressed, to put ont the light and leave them to go to sleep by themselves. To a great many good-hearted and mtfllllifilt peopie—people who honestty desire to be kind 20 ressonable—it were vain to poriray the sgony of some children on being laft alone in tiie dark, the unrensoning, uacantrollsbie terror of tuat something which be its very lack of form, its vagueness and indefiniteness, becomes =0 awfa), o drepdful, 50 indefinitely horrible, that the aoguish_of gubstantia! torture caonot be cowpared with it. Thechild's ‘whole soul is per- vaded by & terror which canuot be shaken off by any effort of the child’s own will. It entira be- ing is the subject of terror which ithas no pow- or to subdue, snd its whole nervous system Tics at the mercy of this shapeless, shadowy foe; itis reeling and stsggering and fainting. and suffering & Bhock which will sell in after-life a8 surely a8 s shot in the eye or acut on the brow. Ok, why is thera Do Jr. Bergh who can provent cruelty to chisdren? ; A great mapy excallent porsons without perves fail to appreciato this state of feehing, and Miss ‘Epnerby was not only without herves, but by 0o means an excellent pereon. She was cold and bsrd ana cruel, and full of vindictive feel- jog toward tbose above her, which she could _gratify ougs by grinding those whom Providence pleced temporarily under —her heel. Msmmy, Wwith unerring ibstinct, at once discovered that Migs Enmerby was “ poor white,"—that i3, that shs had not bad & crowd of negroes at her command, and ridden abont in her own carrisge,—and, with the aristo~ cratic tendency of ber class, delgmed ber ac~ cordingly. The old woman knew her place too well to make any intentionst "“”-K of con tampt, but shs conducted berselt with digniied formality more_offengively suggestive thin the most elaborats impertinence, sud Miss Ennetby Telt it with s keenness she could not disguise from heraelf. The gratification of the latter eould be mess~ ured only by Mammy's dismay at the order to Jeave tho children slone; and indeed s0 great wa8 the panic created in the nureery tbst even Miss Ennerby would have made s _ temporary comj roaiise hsd it not ipvolved s -tromeh for Mammy. As it was, she persisted in tne eo- Torcemort of her order, ang it Was with grim satisfaction that after tho first two nights she observed. tbe lignt having been extingu and Mammy, gova down sama. that the scomed to resign themselves to therr fate and uietly go to sleep. She did not kpow tbat Aammy stole imwediatety back and was at ber post, with herarmaround her bantlings, nor how, 28 Jisa Ennerby’s step was heard, Mammy would throw horself on the floor hehind the bed, and the little onos, taking their first lesson in deception, would shut thetr eyes and feizn sieep till she had retrested, satisfied with them and her *‘gystem.” ‘But one night they failed to hear her coming, ana she stood a moment listeniog. Mammy was Baying, © Jack, he wers in Inb wil ds King’s dorier. an’ were always s-casaio’ eheep's ayes at her ; but de King, be dido’t want Jack o hab his dorter, so he guy & gret ball an’ axed eberybody but Jack. So de ole bar (he wercs gret friend uy Jack)—de ole bsr, he say, ‘I'm gwipe ter roll in Qo ashes, Jack, an’ dea I'll go o de ball-room, an’ shake myse'f ao’ make such » dus’ dat de Ring can’t hardly see; an’ while his eyes is fnll o' dns’ you kin rup away wid his dorter.’ Soole Mr. Bar, he went an’ 1sid down in de chimbly, an’ got hisea'f fall o’ ashes, an’ while dey was a-dancin’ he went and ehuk his- ge'f, ' “Aunt Maria!™ Mies Ennerby opened the door. snswer. Miss Ennerby advanced: «3a'am ?” answered the child faintly. “ho waa that talking ?” No answer. They were truthful children. “ Aupt Maris !” again called Miss Ennerdy. “Marm?” paid Asmmy with an unsteady voice. * Ga down this moment.” - Four little hands clutched Mammy silently, but convulstvely, and she replied by condescend- ing to beg humbly for permission to remsin, but it was of no avail : 8hie was gent down-stairs, tae door locked, and two little motherless babies were Toft to cling {0 each other in sn ageny of terror, foolish and wild and groundless of course, but 8o real to them mad go inexpressioly horrible that few grown persons ever have an experience ap- proaching it. ., The next dsy Mammy petted and caressed them even moro than usaal, and took them out under the trees, and then she said to them, “Nebber mind, caillun. Don't you all be skeared to-mght, "cos Mammy gwine to be right atdodo’. Mammy gwine to lay down right closs outside de do’ ef Miss Edner locks it ; an’ ef you all git 'fraid, you jes' ssy ’Mammy{® kind o' easy, av’ Mammy, she gwine ter say ‘Meaw, meow!’ lika 'twere & cat meowin"."” “What you goin to as¥ ‘meow’ for, Mam- my?” ssked Nelly. “'Cgg I kyarat arnser no oder way, honey,” said Mammy. *‘EfI was to talk humas, ‘course Mies Edner would cotch me. Gord bless my babies! Now don't you all be skoered, 'cos dar ain't patin’ to be skeered ’bout, nohow ; de go0d Lord is s~watchin’ uv you night an’ day, sn’ Boldin’ uv you in de holler dv His han’; en’ Mammy’s gwine ter roll yo' bed cloge ’side de do’, an dea gha gwiaa ter 1ay right dowa by it an” stay dar tell spang day.” Sure ennogh, the door was again locked, and Mammy sent down-stairs. Presentfy there atose nm[a aott, hesitating, doubting voioes, */Mam- gy’ -t “ Meow |” came from the hall. + Mammy!" ;Men& ! meow !; - " . "hen there wers little giggles and whis and the pext time Mammy's name wum:med they could hardly do it for ianghing: **AMammy! Mammy!” “ Meow! meow!” * Oh, Mammy 1" sle-ow I” _Mammy was slarmed less Miss Ennerby should overboar them, and thia time gave such an ex- presaive *‘meow " thatit produced an unre- strained burat of laughter, Wwhereupon Mammy ventured fo whisper * Hishe, chillun!” and the - sounds * presently subsided sgain into giggles and whispera. Then Mammy placed her mouth to the crack at the sill of thedoorandwhispered again, * Go orn tosleep now, ohillun, 'cos sumbody might hesr you. Doo't make me meow no mo'. Mammy ain't gwine away.” And Mammy did not go away, grow faint and the whispers few, and vresently the drowsy lids fall ti\uel.ly over the sweet blue eyes, and all was still; but Mammy never moved till moming’s cheerful beams dispersed tl® shadowy tercors of the night. Oulv when it had becoms *broad dsy,” sud she knew ber babies no longer trembied—only then, chilled and ‘weary, she gatherea up her stiff old limbs and softly crept awsy. Night after night, ““Mammy! Mammy!” “Meow ! answered a voice at the sill of the door. O, Mammy ! «eow! meow!” Till one night, Miss Ennerby, wearing & red flanne! sscque, ber hair in disgusting little crimp- ing plsits, & capdle .flaring in one band and & ‘broom raiged in the other,—Miss Ennerby came suddenly from ber room with intent to punian the cat, and beheld—Mammy L Little was eaid at the moment, bat that little ‘was to the ose. Miss Exnerby was aogry at having bean 80 successfully imposed upon. and Mammy was not only asgry st having been discovered, but alarmed a8 to the consequences for ber children. ber idess being very in- definite aa_to theextent of MMisa Ennerby's authoriry. Very little was said at the moment, but the next evening, 88 Mammy was about tak- ing the children off to bed, Miss Ennerby sent for Uncle Sswney, detaining Mammy till he came. When punishment was Lo be sdministered on the plantation, it was the daty of the overseer to doit, and 88 Uncle Sawney was acting in that capacity this year, he was sent for to perform his functions. No one at.first understood the position of affairs—peitber Mammy nor Uncle Sawney, who stood to recsive Miss Ennerby's orders; peither the children, who were waiting to be takon to bed, wnor the houvse- maids, who, feelmg that something un- usual was abont to take place, were hove cariously in.the rear; and when {hey did. when it became apparent that Uncle Sawney had boen sent for to punish Mammy, the atate of feeling is quite indescribable, Uncle Sawney bimself was aghast. 4 Good Lord, Miss Edner,” he exclaimed, “I darzn't toch that nigger. Mas’ Jack ud peel me all ober, Lord ha’ mussy! Mas’Jack ud have ‘me on de block fus’ trader cum along.” T will be responsible to your master,” eaid Miss Ennerby. Unele Sawoey scratched his hesd and dropped his jaw, sud “walled” his eyes at Mammy The gizgling very muck 88 if he would like to punish her for being the source of Lis perplesity; bas his whip remained trailing on the floor, and his heart failed him as he cesayed to hift it, for Mammy was 8 dignitary whose importance was not to be trifled with’; besidea which, Nelly and Grace were clinging frantically to her, despite Migs Ennerby’s com- mands, and the feelings of his master’s children Were not to be disregarded. Still, he hesitated {o disobey Miss Ennotby, for, like Mammy, he had very vague idess as to the extent of her authority, and did uot know bow far he might qafely veoture to defy her. “*\Will you do a8 you are crdered ?” demanded Aiss Ennerby fmperiously. Uncle Sawney again scratched his head and muttered, * Lord ha' mussy!” but Sn;ug said sullenly to Mammy, “ Orufassen yo' coat.” ‘Mammy beran with trembling fingers to unpin her dress, while the children bung around her with cries of distress, and Grace endeavored to hold it together. "+ Ob, Mammy, don't undoit! Stop opening our dress! Don'tlet him whip you!” cried Nelly. * Ob, Mammy ! please Msmmy!” + Nebber you mind, honey, It don’t make no diff'unce ;" and tho withered old lips were trem- bliug like the poor black fingers. **Mammy ain't gat long w stay bere, mobow, an’ it don’t make no diff unce 'bont de path gittin' narrer. "Tgin’t you all'a fautt, chillan ; an’ ef y0' ma was livin', 'twonldn't be hern, bless de Lord ! e \hen my mamma_comes back.” said Grace, sobbing and looking defiantly st Miss Ennerby, “I'm goin’ to tell her what you been doin’ to Mammy.” She ran to the door of the solitary chamber, and h”",i:f against it with ber belpless Litie fists, oried over and over again, ‘‘Mamma! mamma! please, mamma, open your door! Come out here just & minute, mamms, a0’ make “em stop troublin’ Mammy. You can go to sleep again. Won't you come, mamma { o "An imperativa gesture from 3ss Enperby in- dnced Uncle Bawney to repess his order: * Ormn- fassen 30’ coat.” “COl, make haste, mamma " cried the chil- drep in sgony. E " Mammy pulled off her sleeve, baring one arm and shoulder, while ghe turned foward the weop~ ing child and emd in & voios thick with tears, Come_away, honey; your ma-ain’t dar. Her do” wouldn’t a-stayed shot dig long ef she had ba' been. Come away, baby. D call her no mo'. It jes’ makes Mammy feel wus.” She slowly bared the oiler black sboulder and ‘bony arm, snd Miss Ennerby motioned to Uncle Sawney to advance, while the children with frantic cties sushed forward and w them- gelves before her, Nelly spreading her little baby hands over Mammy's bate back, and Grace Isying ber fair curls and flushed cheek on the withered blsck breast. *Go away, Usncle Sawney,” said Grace, sob- bing 8o that she conld bardly speak; * ' go anay. You kpnow—knov papa—didn't ever—let—let you—whi—whip Aammy. - T'm goin’ to—tall— tell him—tell papa, soon 88 ever he comes— comes home.” “ Never mind, Uncls Sawnsy)}™ maid Nally, “mamms is going to cpen her door an’ come out, o' I'm goin’to ’plain 'bout you troubiin® Mamay.” This appesled to Uncle Sawney’s superstitious feeling, aud he bsd sgain lowered his arm, when there was heard & quick firm tread on the piszzs, the front door closed with a bang. sod Mr. Larrantree stood befers them. o looked with some surprise st the picture present- ed, but after a hasty bow to Miss Ennerby he canght Grace up in bie arms and asked smiling, “ Why, what's the matter, piggy-wirgy ? And \Vhl?l,'ln the world are you ail doing to Mam- my. “Ob, paps,” eaid Nelly, atill protsctively clinging to the old womsn, and unable, avan though ber father had come, to check ber sobs, - *Qh, papa, Gocle Bawn—Sawney was—waa goin’ to whi—whip Mammy."” “All rignt, Uncle Sawney; go ahead. No doubt Mammy deserves it,” said Mr. Larraotres, bat his Iaughter met no resronse, and be folt & little puzzled, having thonght it all a play got Tp to amuse the children, and was dismayed to find their grief unassumed. He looked aroncd with indignant yet perplexed astonishment, for he could bardly realize that Mies Ennerby had _t:-nscsnd.‘:;’ Ber anthorltr (o this extont : set it wag evident thut something very serions and painful had occurred. i > Miss Ennerby stood in embarrassed silence, becoming suddenly conscious that she had made a false move and placed her ‘*scastle” fu danger. Alas for the airy fabric! Uncie Baw. ney's fingers were buried almost out of ight in the grizzly wool that crowned bis head, and his jsw fell more stapidly than ever, while he rolled his eyes, not at sy 0ne in particalar this time, oniy to be generally on the dofensive. No eooner had relief srrived than Mammy's heroism deserted her, and now from ‘head to foot she was shaking with nervoss tremor. ¢ Miss Eonerby, will you be kind enough ta explain this scene ? iss Enoerby cleared her throat once or twice, and hesitated 8o long that Mr. Larrantree turned with perhaps discourteons impatience to Mam- my: “ Mammy, is suything really the macter, or is this just fomfoolery for the childron 7™ *"Tgin't de kind o’ tormfool'ry I been usen ter, Mas’ Jack. Miss Edner were 'bous bavin’ de ole woman whipped., bless de Lord!"” anawersd Mammy. i 2 “Wurepen! You!” Capitals fail to expresa it He turned to Miss Ennerby with flashing eyes. “+Shs persisted in disobeviog me and defyiog my aucthority over my pupils, and thers was nothing left bat to have her punished,” eaid Misa Ennerby. . +Bhe didn’v, paps,” said Nelly. “Wo was *fraid of nights, an’ Mammy didn’t want to lock us up in the dark; an’ ole mean Miss Edoa maked her fo away, an’ then Mammy stoled back anyhow snd meow'd, ao’ Miss Edua caught her, an’ ola mean Uocle Sawney was—" -‘Will you do me the favor to explain this matter, Miss Ennarby 2” Mr. Larrantrea was one of those men who tu pale when they become angry, and Miss Ennerby began fo feel insecnre as she eaw his _features whiten, She hesitat~ ed, aud Nelly continued: “Sincs mam- ma went to sleep, paps, au’ don't lat us come ie her room, we gets 'fraid every night, an’ want Mammy—" “Well, baby, whst has Mammv to do but to- stay with you 3" asked he, pressing his bearded face sgainst the littlo tear-stained cheek. +Bat, papas, doo’t vou koow, Mammy atoled ‘back at the crack of the door an’meowed, an’ Unclo Sswney was goin’ to whip_her, an’ you was goue away, an’ kep’ callin® mamma, an’ callin’ her, sn’ callin’ her; sn’ she wouldn't come. Paps, is mamma 'sleep yet " “ Gaot oct, Sawney,” said Mr. tree, “‘and thank your stars if I don't cut your ears off to- morrow. Mies Ennerby, I may forget myselfit we discuss this mattor at present. so 1 will not detain vou for the purpose. n the door for Misa Ennerby.” This hint being unmistakable, Mise Ennerby curved the corners of her month and ungracious- Iy witharew. He buried bis face in the child's carls, sud when ho raised his head, though he tried to make the tones cheerfal, bis voice was choked and hoarsp: * Fasten Mammy's dress, pigey- wiggy. And now, Mammy, if you know whatis good for you, you wili make Tip briog in thas Valise. and you and Nellyand Grace will open it ; and then if sou don't like what is io it, why you can just send it back o where it came from. ;rhb.i's all papa has- to eay aboutit; so here's o koy.” s Tip brougbt in the valise, and Mammy and tne childreu eagerly poured forth its contenta, Mammy receiving ber Rorgeous turbans aud **gtore shoes” with the eamo innocent delight that the children derived from their bonbons and babies, the old woman and hor purselings throwing aside with equal facility all thought of their receat trouble. § Mr. Larraniree's subsequent interview with ‘Miss Eonerby must have been decisive if Dot agreeablp, 88 her bageage was sent to the “crosaing” in time for next day’s train, acd she departea witbout bestowing & kiss on’ ibe chil- dren or bequesthing her blessiog to Mammy.— Jennie Woodville in Lippincott for Notember. THE COARSEST MOLD MAY HOLD PURE GOLD. Two soldiers stood, with csp in hend, Within their Captain's tent. The latter alowly turned his head, "As e his desk ha beat,— Anxisty and weariness Upan bis featurss bleat, Onehad a seif- ‘And mamer spirited; > i The other, big snd Jooss of form, .. 4 Woll, Roouy,—well, Malone,—whst Dow2® Tl:‘l!‘ Captain Nlflu; maid, e Yfalone, hers, &r,” the first began, 0 e & Tadiragh i sy X a av Yo can, convainylntles— 7 7The Capiain knit 1 brows: Why can’t THo speak himsel{ 1 said he. ey Ba et He do be very hllmhll'lr, 228 S oo wora T Spake o b, sxed me w o for That have au alsy tongus. # Thia letther's from the There's orry news widin ; It mys his wife is dyin’, sir, at for "To'ses B was: 35157 sthome; “The Captain rosa, the letter: s i o o The other watched him esgarly— The Covei pobat S byt ] pat i Well, well, ne'll lot him 0." Clutehed it between his horny palms, And, trembling, forward leant, ‘The npturned face was ashen-hoed 3 Tbe totiaring knete wero bont 3 The silent lips were quivezing; ‘Hoarse gulps the bosom rent. * Captaln]” (at lengih the husky volos Gbirinad b btk the spelh 4 Captain—T thank—~I—Captain desr— e o, sad sobhing oty e wrung the han ; Bushed past the aexitmel. The Cagtain watched the man retreet, ‘At frut n mute surprise, And then he Yaughed s hearty lagh § But yet, I dare surmise, . 1t was not whoily merriment : Broughs moisture to his eyes. * Corxe Ripam. The Paradox of a Sumbeam. Tt is related that the greatest of physical pars- dozen ia the sunbeam. It is the most potent and varsatile force we bave, and yet it behaves itself like the gentlest and most accomwodating. Nothing can fall more sof iy or moresilently up- on the earth than the rays of our grest I ~not even the feathery flakes of snow w) thread thelr way through the stmosphere, as if they were %00 filmy to vield to the demands of gravity, like grosser things. The moat delicate slip of gold leat, exposed as & target to the sun’s shaft, is not stirred to the extent of & hair, though an infant’s faintest breath woald set it into trem- ulous motion. The tenderest of human o s —the apple of the eye—though pierced sad buf- fetted each dayby thousands of sunbeams, suffers no pain during the prooess, but rejoices in their Bweetnees, blesses tho nsefnl light. Yot & Yew of thoee raya. insinoating thamseives into amass of iroo, like the Brittapia Tubular Bridge, will com- pel the clasaly-knit particle to separste, sud will move the whole enormons fabnic with a8 much esse a8 & giant d stir s straw. The play of those beama upon our sheets of water lifts up 1aver after layer into the atmoaphere, and hoists whole rivers from their beds only o _arop them sgAin in snows npon the hills, ‘or in fattening showers npon the plains. Let but the air drink 1n & little more sunshine atona pisce than at ao- other, and out of it Bprings the tempest or tbe burricane, which d2solates s whole region in ita lunstic wrath. Tne marvel is shat a power which is capable of assuming such s diversity of forms, snd of produciog such stupendous re- sults, should come to us in 5a goatls, 80 ful, and_so_unpretentious & msanar.—. Ouarterty Bevies