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ITTEN ON REapinc WHrrtren's “Tae WarrTEs 0% Brrnsal GOUDs&sS.” O! Poet of the gentle faith, ‘Would that / too could see ‘The Love of God in the fair lines Which are revealed to thee :— Xo anxious thought with failing breath, In the last solemn scene, Nosuffering looked for after death, — ‘The future all serene. ‘There is so much suecessful wrong And patient good depressed, Developed evil, stout and strong, = While virtuecries distressed, That questions will too oft arise— Is God Supreme above? While worth expires in anguished cries Are His allottmen‘s Love ? ‘That evil has been wrought by man, Was sixnalled by the flood; In the design of Nature's plan, 7 ‘T'whs claimed that ‘‘all was ood. Tho’ earth for every ae Hath large provision made,— For clothes the fleece, for bread the seed, For grain the starting biad ‘The clothing of the poor is scant, ‘Thick darkness veus their «nn, While fate, like wails of adamant, Engirds the helpless one. 4nd a'l the teeming earth doth yield Leaves millions unsupplied ; Len to the tiller ef the field Is bread sometimes denied. ‘The convict in his lonely cell ‘His sorrow can't suppress ; ‘The one who loved him when he fell ‘Has more acute distrese. ‘The innocent too often feel The keenest shatts of pain; ‘The arrow pierces where the steel Armor’s close-seamed in vain. Victims there are, with no defense, In torture’s crue! throes; O! why does not Omnipotence A barrier interpose? Where is the love and pow'r supreme To end this wild suspense? Where is the yet exhaustless stream Of pure beneficence? Beneath the shadow of the Cross I hope for life to come, But I have not thy restful faith Which makes all doubting dumb. AN ORPHAR IN JAPAN. BY MES. KATHARINE B. FOOT. Under the gray lowering sky of that afternoon in February, the river, the black, relentiess river, rushed on, carrying with it thin, jagged cakes of ice that floated swiftly on, crushing against each other as they went, until with one great crash and roar all went’ over the dam together to churn and grind and crush to atoms in the rapids below, and then to grow quiet turther down and to go on, and on, and on, to the end, just as other drops and ‘other atoms ha d gone since the world bega: The fall of the water over the dam made the earth vibrate fora long distance in every di- rection, and it fairly shook the erazy old house | known as “The Crow's Nest,” which stood on the brink of the river just below the fall. Its Windows rattled in a dull, continuous way. the wind moaned and sighed about the era: and crevices like the vo! ing, “Woe! Woe!” In various rooms men and women quarreled or in a dull apathy, c ren—O! that those wretched, half-clothed, haif- starved little beings should be called children! fought in the narrow entrys or over the tilthy, Tickety stairs. Outside was the chill, damp, fast day, with trampled mud and half-z E all about the house,on one side the river always hurrying along. on the other, the road to the ills that were already bright with light in every window. In an upper room that over- looked the water agirl slept, stretched along the floor in dirty desolation. ‘a piece of an 01 shawl and her arms folded under her head made her only pillow. She was blue with cold, and she shivered now and then, and yet she slept on—a heavy, stupid, drunken sleep. An over- turned table and two chairs, a whisky bottle that had rolled and rolled across the room, ieaving a little stream of poison asit went, until it had stayed Itselt_agafast a leg of the tireless Stove, the bed stripped of all clothing, the Woman on the floor,—told the whole story, and yet there was a licenise law In Gropetown: ‘This woman was young, barcly 19, ouce pretty, now inched and pale, but bearing remnants of auty in the face that still snowed what its Perfect oval had been. and in the long eyelasaes that lay on the thin cheeks, and the brown hair Ubat fell back in a rough, heavy mass over the folded arms. At last she roused. opened her eyes, looked stupidly about, raised herself on one elbow and then sank back to stare at the celliag—or What was left of {t,—with a sick look of biank despair upon her face. Presently she roused ana crept to the wall nearest her and sitting up leaned against it, her hands folded in her lap and her head bent drooping forward. An old hewspaper crumpled and tora lay near her. Tae death-eolumn happened to be in a comparative- ly smooth place and within range of her eyes. ooked at It stupidly, and wile thinking or s to think, who here last, what tims and What was the matter with her—and E.M.J. beloved wife,”— more, she didn’t day. So muca What a noise the water made that night! Was ft in the honse, was tt in her head that! roared and roared ne turned and laid her face on the pane; how it ran along—so fast,—so fast—how far would she go, she wondered, If she fell in; would she sink and go out of sight, or float om aud on, forever, or—? And in he head over and over rang the words, “ Jane, loved wite,—Jane—Jane,”—that was her é Jen” they called her now, but he had called “Jenny, his little Jenn, she remem- bered just how he had looked wher he satd tt,— where Was he now? And yet it wasn’t so very jong since he went away,—only two years. ‘TWo years: Not long?’ No, not long for some people, but oh! how long for her. “Beloved wife, beloved wife, body ever love her again? Ift’t Would be so easy to be good again. ‘The clang of the mill bells rang out harsh and | loud, yet they made her think,—and It was s> long’ since she had thought—of the days long, Jong ago when she was a little girl and went to chureh on Sunday with her mother, who was a She saw herself agatn in clean Sunday h smootuly braided halr—she sat and counted the figures in the ¢arpet or watched the horaets that darted ta | and out over the top sash of the open window from thelr nest way up under the edge of the Z nd she saw the wife of the agent ia her clothes, I hter,—the would any- ¥ would it ding by the hand her littie girl ike e that Jenny was sure | Tnust be the happ' girl tn all the world; Decause she was so with her big eyes and her bright hatr that floated softly o her shoulders, and her clothes were so pretty and so fresh and her boots were always $9 black and shiny and so nicely buttoned. She used to kK at Jenny and sr at her thea—it she would now, how good Jenny would try to be. Then she saw a less pleasant pteture—the home of her mother’ nd marriage: rough, coarse shinan who was kind and h by turns as he was drunk or sober, the hew troop of little children always to be cared for, her mother’s worn face and brokem aspect. ‘Then another, the day when she first went to the hill; that uaday when he firstspoke on the side of th: Village, looking at the a go there?” he had asked haf no one In Gropetowa ut himself,—and “would ue | How sweet his smit ent his volce from au she had ever heard be- oft his hand when she good by at the entrance Ab! those sweet Sundays on the hillside, with the village out lad them, and b> neath their fe green, 30 pea ful, so full of tite and beauty. H she bad loved h » held her close to his shoulder with 0! they would have w than the book he, a gentleman, with ging to him, could love over Unat he was for her, quite rich enough, she had ued of half So much,—aod what did ything matter while ze loved’ ber. Aud ure wh id her how pretty she was, be knew she was no common mill-giri and how he had found out all about her, and tat her father had once held his own place, and how surprised he was to tlud hoy mach she had read. how mech she knew, an e Hite cormon schooi, inte auly gamed, 1a the out by lopg hours of stand: € fancied that he liked. eetings late at night, te stormy scene when her step-father met theut one ev calied her lover “a damnei io toe ieee agony when she begged that he would ber and set her right. his protestations of un alcerable love and faita and that he only waited for consent from home that he might take her there where she would hold up her head with the best of them, for she was $o much prettier than any one there. She felt again the touch of his hand on her hatr as he told her this; bat ‘the comfort that had stolen into her heart ‘with that touch had long since passed away, evea from memory. Then, the mores whea he was fouad to be sgone—and noone knew. out every one suspected. ‘The looks, the whispers, at last the curses at home, her mother’s tears and moans and her own fight at night, alone, wearily plodding over eh at Last the stolen marry ittle att neck, with his little soft bab; eyes, So like the eyes that had once looked iat» hers sotenderly. Her life was fuil of work, for they let her stay because she was go useful and ‘they sald she had reformed. She heard them say it and it seemed strange, and yet she knew she was an awful sinner,—bu she hadn't meant tobe. She was going’ to be good, of course she was, and when Daby Was old Kory — she'd Ts to work fet in the mili and perhaps some day—some it day— he would come back. ad eran: And then there was that dreadful time when everybody was sick and had sore throat—how carefully she poor her sweet blossom and yet he drooped. and although she held him fast and could not let him go, there came a time in the gray early morning when he went away and even her arms could not hold him. ‘Then—days of misery and illness and at last her going back to Gropetown, where she had {riends—or so she thought. They would be sorry for her, and the overseer, he knew her— he would help her. That going home! How she saw it all—her mother gone,—killed by Hr. they told her,—the door that once ledt» home shut in her face with a curse, a few days of half-stupefied work in the mill and then tha discharge use the overseer said, “The girls say they won’t have you stay, Jane, 30 you'll have togo, and] am sorry, too.” Her dreary despair—her lingering on the banks of the canal longing for courage to jump in. and then the tempter’s voice that said, “Oh come on!—he’s married long ago. Come on!—I'll take care of ou.” His care!—his flinging aside, and then down— down—down, and at last “The Crow’s Nest,” —drunkenness,—desolation,—starvation,—what next? Death—hell? Death perhaps, and what mat- ter about hell!—what had she to fear more—she lived in hell. It was dark, the noises in the house grew louder—some one tried her door, and waen she id not stir turned away with ah oath, mutter- ing: “Out such a damned night!” All the lights except one or two here and there were put out in the mills, and those few made the darkness still more wretch ed, for they shot their radiance over the black w ater and showed it hurrying on. Still she sat, cold and faint, with ahorrible thirst consuming her and still those words dancing in her brain—“beloved Wife—beloved wite.” “T wou:d be * she thought, “I would be good, good If anybody’d love me.—ir si» would love me, they say she 1s so good and kind, and she was a little girl when I was.” The sweet daughter of the agent,—Agnes Palmer,—how everybody loved her, the pretty Mitle girl ot old days had grown’ into the lovely, gracetul women, with a sweet, cilm, placid face told | Of agentle and untroubled spirit. How often Jeuny had seen her as she drove about town in her pretty phieten, and she had al- ways loved her,even from the time when she had first seen her in church so long ago. And she had such a strange feeling about her,—it se2med that goodness would come to her it Agnes would only speak or touch her, she was $0 dif- ferent from everybody else,—so good, she dida’t know how bad people were—they said her mo- ther was good, too,—but somehow not the same, not like Agnes; her mother knew about sin and how bad people could be, but Agaes,—she was good ali through. If she would only love her! “Would she, If she told her how she would be good, how she would, indeed, if she would only love her a little and give her some work to do and let her be near her? Surely some of her purity and sweetness would come upon one even so vile as she, if she would only speak to her, and touch her, She hated to be wicked,she wanted to be good, but how? Once long ago she wandered to the church where she had once gone—she longed to throw herself upon the floor before them all and cry—“O God, have merey on me! have mercy on me!” But she didn’t dare to take a seat unasked, and the people at the door hesitated and made Way when sie went into the poreh, and she fe! them shrinking from her, and turned her bac« upon them with a curse uttered aloud instead oi the prayer she had longed to speak, and went away turned to bitterness. But now again, once more, she felt this longing for a new life—“beloved wife—beloved wife’—surred her to the very depths of her soul. Blindly, weakly, she reich to her feet, first to the pitcher for a drink,—but no water was there; then to fumble for a shaw! that she drew over her head, and blindly grope for the door, her only conscious thought a wish to find Agnes and to be like her. Once long ago she learned a hymn that said “the vilest sinner may return”—‘the vilest sinner’ — she was that—“may return”—yes, yes, she would—“teloved wife”—“ ‘would Ag- nes love her? Sze would Me under her feet, yes under the feet of the very horse that she drove, if she wou'd love her and speak to her and touch her. The airrevived her asshe reached the door unseen by any one. ‘There was a pump in the yard and she stopped, and too weak to Eo any fresh water, she took some tn her = er from the trough beneath and drank—passed wet hands over her face and dried it with a cor- ner of her skirt—she would go and find Agnes, yes, even at her house, she would tind her some Wi ay. Ah! how thirsty she was, how thirsty! but she was steadier on her feet and she waiked up the street. The window of the village restau- rant was bright, and a good smell of coffee came from the grating below. Faint and sick, she leaned on one side of the window where the bright light shone full in her face. A groupo men came from the Opposite direction, and a3 they passed recognized her. “Hallo: its Jen,” cried one; “come on, Jen,” —and he pulled her by the shoulder. “Don’t,” she sald feebly, “I'm sick.” “Be you? What's up?” She Shook her head. “Oh say—come on, Bill”—called another, “give her enough for a drink, that’s what’s tho latter there,” and the speaker tossed ten cents towards her—it fell at her feet, and they passed on laugiing and jeering. All but the maa who spoke first “Say, are you sick, Jen? that’s too bad, you ig "and he thrust look sick too—hun; Here, some money into the hand that held the shawi over her head and went on. She stood still, holding the money, but too faint and sick and ti to know What she wanted, where to go or what to do, except to find her. Her angelic face seemed to tloat be- tore her in the air. Two men passed her and then stopped at the door of the store. “I say,” said one, “let’s go in and get a cup of coffee, it’s a raw night, and going LO snow, and It’s a long ride over there ’— und they went in. “ A cup of coffee,” yes, that wa3it, she wanted a cup of coffee, and she followed them. There was no one in the front store but a woman, but back at the little tables were some gay young people and the two men who had passed Ler. The door was heavy, she had hard work toget itopen, 1. slipped from her hand and went to with a heavy bang that attracted the attention of every one. Jenny stood for 4 moment waverlag and un- | certain, while for the same moment curious eyes were turned upon her. The girls looked up at her and then away from her and burst into a gayer rattle of talk than before; the young men with them gave a significant glance at each other ana then took no more notice. The two men stared and listened for what was coming, for they had nothing else to do. The woman in charge looked, hesitated and at last moved along vehind the counter toward denny sshe with lagging and hesitating steps Want a cup of coffee,” and she held out the money in her hand, a silver quarter, ‘he woman really had a kindly heart, she knew who Jenny was—imuch of her history, but there were customers there,and it was her daily bread that came into the’ question, her heart hardened. “1 haven't any for you,” she said ina low volce with a quick glance over her shoulder; “we have our own cusiomers,” and yet her heart smote her as she spoke. Jenny had heard enough,—feebly and faintly she turned and the door slauumed behind her. Never mind! when she found Agnes It would be all right, and she staggered on with er face, hex love, her touch, her only alm. Suddenly she saw her right before her eyes aud looking aslovely as she had imagined. Ww rapped ina warm Soft fur jacket, her bright kair knotted low in her neck uhder her litue hat, her sweet eyes upraised tothe man who walked beside her, her tender mouth relaxed in a bright smile, she looked the lovely angel that Jenny knew her tobe. Quite unconscious of Jenny's presence as she stood in the deep sha- dow of a tree, she brushel by aud her skirts touched Jenny as she passed. ¥or an instant Jenny stood still, and the turned and followed her, conscious of but on thought—to keep her in sight. ‘They did not g « far, only to the vestry of *the old chureh a little way down the street—there wa3a meeting of some kind there, At the gate Jenny stoppad; should she go in again? for she remembered the last time,—bat Ured and sick and faint, knowing oaly thit the one woman in the world that she wanted to have love her was in there, she crept tn, and unnoticed at first by anyone, seated herself in the last seat far back, and who ay deze 85 : 538 ize Z for it was such a pretty story that she told her about the way the people lived on the big fan she held in her hand, how they had little gardens and brooks tn them—cool little brooxs, Where one could wade in wher thedays were long and hot, and little bridges over them that Went on and on way up In the alr, and the last one tipped right over the edge of ths fan and went to nothing. Jenny remembered just how she had traced them out with her finger as the lady told her the story. And how, when she sald, “ But they'll tip off when they get the lady said, “Oh! no; the flowery Ian at the other ‘end of that bridze, oaly_w: see it now, they cut it fof juagthere, bi where the women on tiie fan are going. The lady gave the fan to Jenny and sh> K+) it ever so long,—where was it now? Gone, Lik everything els. ‘Yes, yes,—suddenly she remembered all abou it,—the lady was the agent's sister and Agnes’ aunt; yes, she was glad she had remembered she would tell her when she came out all about it, How paialy it had all come back to her; why was it she thought of it? Suddenly she Knew why,—her ears seemed opened and she listened to the woman who was speaking; she was telling about Japan and the ple there— Japan was the country the lady told her about— and particularly about a girl, a young girl not over i7 and an orphan and a heathen,—a bright young, girl, but with the darkened mind of a eathen—would they give her light? They were such a peaceful happy people, the woman said, thelr homes were so neat and so cared for and they lived and were comfortable on such a little money, and they weré honest and indus- tious and Kind to everybody, for the politeness of even the very poorest, among, them Was re- markable, and they needed only the light of Christ and his spirit, and it was for those who Sat there to give them this light and spirit,— to fill the contribution boxes, to give their time ard their labor and their prayers and the Bible,—and then Jenny forgot what else was sald, for “to be kind to everybody” hummed in her ears just as the roar of the dam and ‘“be- loved wife” had the hour before. “ Yes, yes,"—how strange it should come back to her s0,—that was what the lady said, “be kind to everybody,”—that is the spirit of Christ. The light of Christ they were talking about. that was in the picture that hung at the foot of her bed while she was sick at the alms- house;—the matron hung t there for a little while and she missed it ‘so when they took it away. There was such a ie in his face, and one hand lifted up, and underneath, “Peace be unto you.” But the lady of long ago, she sald something else, what was {t, what ‘ps It?” Jenny pressed her hands over her ears and on her head, and tried to think. It was some- bree! ees What they had been saying, what was it? Ah! she had It, “the heathen,” that was it, Jenny remembered the funny little house on the fan and how she asked: “Do all the heathen live in pretty little houses like that? I'd like to live in one, with bells on it just like that one.” And the lady’s answer was so strange that Jenny had thought of it often till the time came when she never thought of anything any more. “The heathen?” she said, and she had taken one of Jenny's hands in one of hers and- smoothed it with the other as she spoke, “the heathen, dear? they live in all kinds of houses and they're poor and wretched and dirty, and nobody loves them or cares for them, and they're all around us, little Jenny. No, no, they don’t all live on fans,—only the happy heathen, and it seems to be easy enough t) work for them. ” And she kissed her when she went away, Jenny remembered—would she kiss her now, she Wondered,—could she? If she could only ‘tind 4s jas: -her and tell her how sorry she was, how sorry— and about the baby; but just then they stood up to sing and the bright head was still there, and they would go out soon, and then Agnes Mg Cee and ae, Dry ee e Sat still, and present e singing stopped, Somebody said something, and then there was a stir, they were coming. She stood up,—no, that would not do, she was too weak, she would sit down and wait. Why didn’t they come? They were whisper- ing, they looked at her—yes, she knew it. Never mind,—Agnes had turned around, she ‘Was tying a Scarf round her throat she listened to her mother, who spoke to her, they were talking about her—surely Agnes gave a quick ‘lance at Jenny. Yes, peopie looked at her, ley passed her,—the peopie she didn’t care for —She felt their looks although she dida’t turn to them,—but Agnes was coming;—now, /:o/r, was the time. Jenny stepped forward and stood. atthe end of the seat, her heart beat ivavily, her knees shook, she leaned hard oa the bene! in front ana watted for her. Agnes came on,—she looked asid>,—th> ot 1¢ Way from Jenny, she wa3 pale Woo, but she Wa near,—yes, beside her, and Jeuay pat out u feeble hand and sald thickly, “Wait! wait! but Agnes passed by with Jenny’s eyes fixed o her,—she was at the door,—she Was out ot sight—gon nd with her the love and mercy of God. Jenny swayed as she stood and all grew black before her, but a voice roused her, that said, “Did you want to come to church?” Jenny looked. Beside her stood Agnes’ mother. She made no answer,and the woman said again, “Did you want to come to church? did you want to hear about the love of God?” “ The love of God, the love af God! there’s no love anywhere for me—for me—you wouldn’t let her speak to me!” ‘Was Ubat wild, hoarse shriek her own voice that Jenny heard? She had meant to be so gentle, but she, swe was gone, she couldn’t love er;—Ob! curses on them, curses, the devil's own—and with a shriek that was sob, scream and terrible laughter all in one, she rushed out doors. Ah! bow cold it was, how cold! and the air thick with snow, and how she burned with Unirst. Where, where was that saloon? this way—no, that. She burst througa the swing- jug doors with an oath and threw down her money on the counter. “Whisky!” she sald and grasped the edge of the ruil to steady herself, for she felt that she reeled to and fro, “ You've had enough,” the man said, denny uttered aterrible oath. “I naven’t had a drop to-day, nor anything to eat elther,—give it to me quick!” The man poured out half a tumblerful of quor; she swallowed ttraw and almost at a gulp, flung down the glass with such force that s broke to pieces, and tore out again into the storm. ‘There were half a dozen men in the bar-room; they looked up, and one whistled and one swore alittle under his breath, and the bar-keep_r brushed up the pleces of broken glass and thr_w them out doors, “Tsay, Chon said one, taking a pipe out of bis mouth,“‘ivs my opinion that you hadn’t orter give that girl that drink, there was some- oy eng od Lee "bout her, now I tell you She hada kind o’ rash look, real desprit like,” then after a short silence, pipe, fo hand aud eyes fixed on the wall opposite, “Lord! well! I wouldn’t wonder neither,” and ‘he put back his pipe and puffed away and nobody said any- thing. Presently he took the pipe out again, looked at it, rapped out the fire on the edge of the wood-box, and put it in his pocket and walked out, “That's a queer duck,” sald the bar-tender, Polishing a glass; “I bet he’s gone to look atter that gal—Jen, ain’t it?” “That's her name,” said one of the two men who were playing cards in a corner, “and she Was as pretty asa jes once and not so very long ago neither, Say, that’s my deal Yes, ve fellow was a damned scamp and no mis- ra? “They say he’s livin’ in great style dowa to Boston,” said the other. eine. hurch 5 he “Til be bound, and goes to c! regular; lit out just in good time for himself. I wouldn't ae ef he'd got choked ef he'd stayed ro ‘The door banged then,and in stalked the man ERE AE caer nee “Wel i one o} cal eTS, “00 you ean crepe o oes et lo you know about it?” wied Bil ashe proceeded to seat himseit na fill mtg Pipe. "I went out to ‘tend the misstonary meetin’ down to the old _meetin’-house, bift I met ’em all comin’ oat. S9’3 I found I was tod late to give ’em that ten dollar bill I'd kinder put by for the heathen, I cume back.” “Ob! damn!” said the man who asked the frighten ‘em Noone answered and Bill puffed away for a few minutes in perfect tly he urately upon that exact place, and then: as he hel in two Jast aw. from bis Mps: “I'll bet_ a all round sho sald zi against 7; & cigar in his mouth nis you go to praca youd maxes Tegulat you Zereether, pe And in the storm she bare-hi —which was the way home? Ah, home! No, sbe couldn't go there any and yet it was all new except the river. The river—dare Tun} Did it hurt? Was it dreadful to drown? Ab! she wouldn't speak to her,—she and Bee Sea eee enn eee there was a door. would rest a minute, fo one would open the door, it was all dark le. Half-sheltered from the storm she sat, her arms folded in her shawl, her head uncovered but she did not feel the snow that drifted softly down upon it. She could only see a littie way before her. but there was a light way off,—whore Was it? Somebudy lived there. Somebody was going home to it—would they take her in? But es e Was too Lred, and she would rest a while ny er. Was it a house like that one on the fan lon: ago? She would find one like that if she looke jong enough. Why! there it was right before her and so pretty, and the garden was full of flowers and the little brook ran along making Just such a notse as that one did right back of the coitage whem she was a litile girl. Way, it Was thet brook, and there was a bridge. She stepped on it and ran across. There were flowers there too; she mustn't stop, she must go on, they were 80 much brighter on beyond: Was she on the fan and the bridges? How they went @n and on! was the flowel grow: y were beyond, such bright flowers, they beckoned,—ah! she Was over at last! tt tors the flowery land,—but no, yet_another bridge,—could she drag herself to it—over it? But where? All was black at the other end,but where had it gone? Surely she saw !t,—that light—not in the window, oh! no, not that—a bright light, bright. bright! ‘There it was again—how het feet lagged—pulled back—she slipped—one step more—ah, how heavy she grew—one step—one; a long breath—her head drooped on her should- er and the last bridge was crossed! They found her in the morning sitting in the closed doorway of the old church. Theeditor of the Weekly Gropetown Gazette made the most of his opportunity, and every- body said it was ees reading when he told how the pure and gentle hands of good women had dressed that poor body for the grave and pas flowers in the hands that were crossed on er breast. And how the minister preached next Sunday from the text, “Judge not, that ye be not judged,” and how it’moved everybody to tears. Lower down in the column that finished the Story was this notice: “The women of the First Congregational church, in this town, have undertaken for a year the education and care of an orphan in japan.” And below, this: “The notorious den known as ‘The Crow’s Nest’ was the scene of a terrible fight on Thurs- day night. The men escaped, but two women were arrested and spent the night in the lock- and paid their fiues in the morning to Mr. . jank, justice of the peace.”—Spriniela Repib- ican, Spare the ‘Trees. The tree may be described as a rooted ant- mal, whose function it is to equalize the elec- trical conditions of the atmosphere and the earth, to purify the air we breathe, to exhale large quantities of aqueous vapor, ‘and, by so doing, to modify both the temperature and the dryness of that aerial ocean in which it ex- pands its foliage, to check the evaporation of moisture from the soll, and to promote the con- duction of water toit, and thus to assist in the formation of those subterranean springs which become the sources of perennial streams and majestic rivers. When I say that a tree isa rooted antmal, I do so advisedly. Its vital functions are analog- ous to ours. The spongioles at its roots select and absorb the food which it draws from the soil, ib much the same way as that in which the Jacteals of the human stomach act; this food is converted intosap, or blood, and its cir- culation is arterial and venous, like our own. The tree breathes, as we do, its leaves belt its lungs; and the process of respiration 1s ef- fected by means of the air-cellson the lower Surface of the leaf, just as some insects breathe through the pores of their skin. In the hy- drangea there are as many as sixteen thousand of these littie air-holes in every square inch of the leaf; and in the yucca, or Adam’s-needle, there are no less than forty thousand in the same space. Each of these inhales carbonic acid, and exhales oxygen, just as we inhale oxygen, and exhale carbonic acid. Anda liv- ing tree maintains Seen oe er Sure a8, just as the human body does. hours Of sleep, as we have, and its period of growth, maturity, reproduction, and decay, as we have, AS an agent for the purification of the atmos- phere, the value ofthe tree 1s incalculable. rofessor Asa Gray, speaking of the ae ton elm, at Cambridge, states that it is esti mated to have prone an anrual crop of seven mililons of leaves, exposing a surface of five acres of follage to the air. And as every inch of that foliage embraces many thousands of respiratory tubes, each incessantly engagea in giving off oxygen <0 long ag tt 1s 6xposcd to the action of the light, we may imagine the benellcert part which a forest plays in relation to the supply of the vivifylug principle for our own lungs and blood; and we may also esti mate whet we suffer, in the privation of it, by herding together in large cites, and breathing @ poisoned or deterlorated atmosphere. The infiuence of the forest on the humidity of the air and the earth 1s due to a variety of causes. In the first place, the tree, in respira- tion, while decomposing the carbonic acid, sets free a certain quantity of vapor. Not only so, but a portion of the moisture which is drawn up from the soll is given off by cutaneous transpiration, inthe same way that vapor es- capes from our bodies. In the second place, by sheltering the ground beneath them, shade trees protect it against solar irradiation. Thirdly, as trees—according to experiments which have been made in Europe—maintatn at all seasons a cohstant mean temper iture of 54 deg. Fahrenheit, the vapor which is held tn Suspension by the atmosphere, when the heat of this is higher than that of the forest, coming in contact with the latter, 1s conde: and falls in the shape of fine rain, or of ‘‘drip.” ‘Tins is a phenomenon constantly observable in wooded elevations, l!ke the Dandenong Kanges, for example, and those pure ice-cold springs, which come leaping down the shaggy slopes of the mountains, making sweet music as they babble and gurgie, foam and eddy, in the green twilight of the lovely fern-tree cloister over- head, are but the Mead fioating in the air, transmuted into sparkling runnels and stain: less cataracts by the action of the gigantic eu- calyptl, which lift their lordly heads with such & majesty of mien above the crest of those purple huis, Strip the ranges of their crown of glory. without replanting them, and each streain and creek would forthwith disappear. The winter rains would wash every inch of surface soll off the mountains; and then, when the bed-ro:k 3, and de- vastating inundations would denuge ‘these of their alluvium and sweep it into tie sea. In stead of green pastures and blooming or- chards, and fruitful vineyards and pleasant gardens, you would see a bare and arid plain, treeless and waterless, except in the winter, when a tropical down-pour would fili the other- wise dry beds of what are Low permanent creeks with turbulent torrents, France, with other countries, has more thin once paidthe penalty of this wholesale de- struction of timber. Hill-side forests were cut down; there wasnothing to arrest the ratn, and to conduct it through a mass of Me, Sool a hu- mus into the subsoil, perforated and rendered rmeable by the far-reaching roots of the es, from whence it would find its way into under-ground reservoirs, constituting the fountain-heads of never-tailing springs. And thus, when the snows melted, or when there was a heavy rain fall, floods of disastrous vio- lence ocet .. That of 1840, inthe valley of the Rhone, destroyed property of the value of Seventy-two millions of francs. Those of 1816 cecasioned a loss of forty-five millions of francs; that of May, 1856, laid million of acres, in- cluding many towns and villages, under water in the valley of the Loire;.while in the valley of the Rhone its effects are described as havin; been as calamitous as if the whole country hi been occupied by an invading’ army; and the flood of 1815 was even more calamitous. More Tecently all Europe was moved by the afflicting Larrative of theappalling inundations by which ‘so large a portion of the Spanish province of Murcia was devastated. And here again out- raged nature visited upon man the penaities of is own misdeeds. Warning voices were litted up against the reckless war which was being everywhere waged ist what little live timber yet remains in Spain, and the govern- ment, the various muntcipalities, and the land owners ot the country were entreated to take some steps for the replantation’of the mountain slopes; but it was all of no avall. ‘The leading newspaper of Madrid in an excellent article on this subject has pointed out that the evils re- sulting from periods of protracted drought, al- ternati with heavy rain-falls, occasioning floods, are alarmingly on the Increase, and an canes is addressed to the patriotism and publ spirit of Spaniards to concert meas- hours, and waters of the tne ‘augmented 0 the ions of a lake Overwhelmed a Duay Aad, 18 commu- nity by & general ruin. © Theiss rises in Work; the forests have felled, without ’ ass ae FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. WHEN MRS. GARFIELD was appfised of her busband’s nomi hed and sald, “‘I am inclined to be sorry. It is an end to our home life.” Tm simply remarked, “I expected it. ‘THE Princess Louise, wife of Lord Lorne, Gov- ernor-General of cwn_ hands the els ot a white door in her boudoir, by paint the branch of an args ae in = ee 80 Fo pencigy ad that IS Sa 1 - apples || are ripe and rosy enough to cause a REFERRING especially to our countrywomen abroad, 7ie Hou says: Provided that she ts conscious of well-dressed, that she at- tracts favorable notice from those whom she meets and that she is not bored with too much sight-seeing, the American woman ts usually a cheerful and agreeable companion. Wax at Cincinnati the other day, Anna Dickinson closed her contract for the new play to be written for Fanny Davenport, by wire, with the following characteristic telegram: To Fanny Dovenport, Cantoit, Patz Allright. God biess you. It shall be a credit to both parents. ANNA DICKINSON. Ir there is one spectacle that is unpleasanter tl an another, it is that of an elegantly dressed young lady towing a dog by a string. It ts said to be the sign and symbol of blighted love. It Would seem that some other way of advertising it might be devired, which would be just as cqn- spleuous, and yet ‘not so trying to the proprie ues. A SackaMEnNTO girl was guilty of a mean trick the cther day, the relation of which will cause the biood of every mother tn the land to curdle with horror. She eloped with her objectioa- able lover the same day her mother was enam- eled, and. as the latter was compelled to re- Main shut up three days or else crack all over, the couple Managed to get away without pur- sui AN amusing example of insular prejudice, directed against their American cousins, was mabitested one day by two Knglishwomen, dis- cussing the recent marriage of a mutual ac- uaintance. “She married an American, { think,” said one of the ladies. “An a?nerican!” exclaimed the other, recoiling from the sugges- tion with a look of unutterable horror. “Oh! dear, no—a very nice man!” PUNCH, Who, of course, must illustrate Eng- lish opinion, gives us very clever a scrap of Conversation in which a young gentleman of fashion asks an elderly lady of fashion for mat- rimonial advice, The question is of choice be- tween worth and rank, and the lady very ac- ceptably answers: “Beauty fades, and mere goodness Is apt to fall, but a title lasts forever, and one never tres of having a duke for a brother-in-law.” In Panis the great rage of the season ts for dotted fabrics. Large dots, little dots, polka dots, Japanese dots, Chinese dots, French dots, printed dots, brocaded dots, light dots, dark dots; dotted dresses, dotted mantles, plain fab- Tics trimmed with dotted ditto and dotted tab- rics trimmed with plain ones; dots of every size and of every style; dots forever—such is fashion’s decree for this season. The rage for dots equals that for stripes which relgued a short time ago. A story is going the rounds of a worthy Ger- man farmer of Berks county who had a shrew- ish wife. After many bickerings, she recently announced her Intention to desert his mansion and never return. News of the occurrence reaching the neighbors, one of them called to condole with the deserted farmer, and said: “Hans, I pity you.” ‘My boy,” replied the honest Dutchman as he disturbedly knocked out the ashes of his pipe, “You vas right. She has shust come back.” Easy housekeepers are often unjustly ac- cused of laziness, when the very easiness so condemned springs from a kindly consideration tor Gis Pes ple’s comfors: oe rigid house- keeper, who rigorously compels everybody into obedience to fixed rules and laws, assures there- by her own ease, while a more genially benevo- lent woman shrinks with native generosity from constraining others to submit to that or- derly arrangement which will directly result to her own individual convenience. Some years ago a movement was made by some Kindly-disposed ladies to induce the man- agers of large stores to provide seats for the young women employed behind the counters. ‘An early closing on Saturday was granted by several shopkeepers, but nothing has been done as yet towards the other movement. It was Sald that ladies who were only too glad to avail themselves of the seats at their side of the counter strongly objected to the girls, who were serving them, sitting down. Whether pevee true or nol, it was generally believed 80. THE TRUSTEES Of the Insane hospital at Nor- ristown, Pa., have taken a bold step in noml- nating Dr. Alice Bennett as physician in — of the women’s department. Dr. Bennett ts in no sense an expert in insanity, but she hols an honorable position among other medical practitioners in Philadelphia, which she has won by patient, faithtul work. She is the first woman graduate who will succeed in taking the degree of Ph. D. at the University of Pennsyl vanla; and, above all, she will bring to her treatment of these her unfortunate sisters, common sense and a woman’s In. tuitive judgment and tender sympathy. Some quiet earnest-looking women seem t be, indeed, in their right place as they sit lis- tening to the deliberations of the regular meet- ings of the Philadelphia board of education. They neither possess por demand any right of inquiry or of criticism, but as the mothers of children whose scholastic career 1s to be con- trolled by the legislation of the board, they are anxious to Know what is done, and by what means it 1s accomplished. The silent presence of these women brings every action to the test of their opinion and practical experience, and must inevitably exert a potent though uaex pressed influence.— Progress, THE female suffragists were in full force at the Chicago convention, endeavoring to present some exceedingly ungrammatical and otherwise incomprehensible resolutions to the attention of the delegates. The resolutions wound up with @ clause to the effect that woman should be allowed to vote for “laws to preserve her daugh. ters from those dreadful dangers to which they are becoming more and more exposed through the unbridled and insatiable lust of men.” ‘The best way for these ladies to “preserve their daughters” would be to stay at home and attend to the proper education of their children and to curb their own and their daughters’ “unbridled and insatiable” love of pleasure and fine rat- ment, which is the mainspring of the danger el are so anxious to legislate about.—Tne four. BLONDES AND JACQUEMINOTS.—The old theor y Which allowed a blonde to wear only blue flow. ers and ribbons, and consequently made her look ei has been very nearly extinguished during the last half dozen years, and the fancy for Jacqueminot roses may utterly destroy it. ‘These sumptuous blossoms are beautiful when worn by a brunette who knows how to make them contrast with black lace, but they are at their best when they adorn a blonde who chooses to array herself in a robe of creamy crape, draped with antique grace, and to rellevo it with great clusters of Jacquemlaot buds and half opened blossoms placed at the belt and high on the side of the ae opening at the throat, and gathered at the belt. The single rose that nestles among the as onthe top of her head brings out the gold of her hair, intensifies the coolness of her eyes, and makes’ her oue of the prettiest pictures ever seen at a dinner party.— Potier’s American Montily DANGERS OF THE SKIPPING RorE.—Dr. Peck has Just performed a surgical operation on the lez of a young girl from Illinois, sent here for treat- ment ie bones of both her legs will have to be partly removed, and the little sufferer will have to submit to two painful operations. The cause of epee a ee ee pe rope,” a pastime engaged in by girls—necro: oredeath of the ‘Doue. The doctor stated to a reporter in this connection that similar cases were constantly occurring from this same cause, but more frequently resulting in necrosis of the spine, and that not a month passes but more or fewer cases of that character come to the insti- tute for treatment. He says that rope jumping Baer tp er eontoeae es whicl ge upon me, cal at the and iting in the teachers should be warned of this dangerous sport, and eradicate it entirely from the play- unds Of children, as it is ruinous in its ef- ons, and is the prime cause of more cripples among the female portion of the community than probably apy one cause. He also adds that ae practice of his profession deaths have been pare | ‘under his observa- tion, which were the result of this pernicious Pastime. In conclusion he sald: “I would warn children a: Tope jumping, and would advise Parents and teachers to prohibit tt under all circumstances.”—Indianapolis Sentinel. THE THIRD SEx.—In the beginning, Gooa Book tells us, there were two sexes man and womap. -Civilizatton and renne ment have, according to the Paris Ga! produced a third sex—the milliners. At the marriage of Mile. de Gallifet, the other day, to quote from that sp! some of the {in order to judge ‘be seen in the best places, in o1 Bt of the effect of their works, as the brilliant pro- eession filed them. They have their re- elr special — as carefully the |- A WORD TO THOSE WHO USE POROUS PLASTERS. BENSON'S CAPCINE POROUS PLASTER is the only improvement ever made on the old style of Porous Plasters. It contains an entirely com- bination of active vegetable ingredients to which ite superiority over common Porous Plasters and its remarkable pain-relieving, strengthening, and curative properties are due. CAUTION. To protect the public against imitations, counterfeits and fraud, we caution all pur- chasers to see that the word Capcine on each plaster is correctly spelled, and we specially caution all against accepting worthless plasters called by similar sound- ing names when the the genuine are asked for. The fact that BENSON'S CAPCINE POROUS PLASTERS are being largely imitated is the beat guarantee of their genuine merits and the high opinion imitators have of their value. ITIS AN UNUSUAL THING TO IMITATE A WORTHLESS ARTICLE. SEABURY & JOHNSON, PHARMACEUTICAL OHEMISTS, 21 Platt st.. New York. | Pe aS STATE LOTTERY. TAKE NOTICE! This is the only Lottery ever voted on by ple of a State, and under a late decixion of t ‘ Court at Washington, is th Lottery nw in the United Stated, alle having been repealed or having no existen A Splendid Opportunity to Win a Fortune, SEVENTH GRAND DISTRIBUTION, CLASS G, AT NEW ORLEANS, TUESDAY, JULY 13ra, 1880—122p MONTHLY DRawrNG. Louisiana State Lottery Company. is institution was regularly incorporated by the slature of the State for Educational and Char- itable purposes in 1868 for the Term of Twen- ty-five Years, to which contract the inviolable faith of the state is pledged which pledge has been ren by an overwhelming Popular vete, secur- ing its franchise in the new constitution adopted December 24, A, D. 1879, with a capital of 81,000,— 000, to which ithas since added a reserve fund of over $350,000. = ITS GRAND SINGLE NUMBER DISTRIBU- TION will take place monthly on thesecond Tuss- day. af It never scales or postpones. Look at the following Distributior PRIZE, 100,000 TICKETS AT TWO. MALY TICKS my22 the peo- he U.S. nly Lega? "hurters 0,000. Dotpais pacs. AR. ‘TS, ONE DOLL, LISf OF PRIZES. APPROXIMATION PRIZES. 9 Approximation Prizes of 8300. 9 Approximation Prizes of 200 9 Approximation Prizes of 100. 1857 Prizes, amounting to.....9-. Responsible corresponding agents wante’ Points, to whom liberal compensation will ba paid. Writs, clearly stating full address, for farther informstion, or send orders by express or ina Registered Letter or Money Order by mail, ad- dressed only to M. A. DAUPHIN, New Orleans, Or same person at jo. 319 Broadway, New York. J. P. HARBACH, 1416 F st. n.w., Washington. All our Grand Extraordinary Drawings are under JENERALS G. the supervision and management vy T. BEAUREGARD and JUBAL A. EARLY. Sie ie Company has NO AGEN BRITISH POSSESSIONS 4 PNEUMONIA, SORE THROAT, I\FLAMMATION OF THE LUNGS, &e. TRADE “SAPANULE.” MARK. ‘The Celebrated Glycerine Lotion Gives Immediate Belief and a Badical Cure. Inflammation of the Kidn¢ Back. ions or Soreness of the ‘Burns or Scalds, and all Inflam- tory Diseases. "Be Household can afford to be without it. fans Use aud reootn _Wocan refer go Woussnds wo owe their lives to (Gur Rimitatea Otreular sent free, upon appli- No risk in trying tt as we guarantee satisfaction "ep oats and 81 per bottle. Trini Bottles, 280. Bold by all Druzeists. SAMUEL GERRY & COMPANY, PROPRIETORS, 937 Broadway, N. ¥. Lame mart-co Gs GIXTUBES, GAS FIXTURES GARDEN HOSE, GARDEN HOSE. OIL SIOVES, OIL STOVES. PLUMBING, HEATING AND VENTILATING. PLUMBING, HEATING AND VENTILATING. EDWARD CAVERLY & CO., mys 1435 New York Aven T= CELLULOID TRUSS,AND SUPPCETEBS. pple se aly patrons. (PUE crmax FoR Bors, FOR THE 4TH OF JULY, ONLY 25 CENTS. Se SOLID GOLD GENTS’ STEM WINDER, AMER- IOAN LEVER, WALTHAM, MASS., ORLY $35.00. J. Ml. & B. COHEN, DIAMOND BROKERS, He. 1007 Seventh st. maw. MONE TO LOAN 66 per cont. ‘10 UFFICE OF BUPERINTENDENT oF Sealed Propocti, teu Ny the Treseuy Det mote 5 ment with Ice for the ensuing year, ety Wott ceived at this office up to 1 O'CLOCK P.M. OF - DAY, Juxx 28, 1sn0. Instrecticns to bids will be furvished on tion to the custodian the Treas: Serena = Se ke win Jel7 tt (PRESSURE DEPARTMENT, i OFFICE OF BUPERINTENDENT or BUILDING, Wasnincrox, D. O., June 17, 1880. ") b asury Depart- 4 Wood for the enxaing year, Will be received at this office up to 12 O'CLOCK BOON oF MONDAY, Juxx 28, 1580 Instractions to bidders will be furnished on plication to the custodian of the Treasury - tn N eet A Sizbt “Sn'T. POWER, Chiet Clerk. PHCPosaLs Fou BRICKS. OMce of Building for State, War and Navy Depart- meuts, Old Building, Navy Department, = 17th Ntreet, Wasrinorox, D. C-, June 16th, 1880. for furnishing and del 1, bo best Ret Brick: 130,008, 71 }, moreor joss, best Red Bricks, and 20, cw Back Bri the Balla mhore or leer, Bk North Wing’ of Ne thi ed icks, at tho site of the War and JuNR 29ra, 1 thereafter, in presence of bid- Specifications, general instructions for bidders ana blank forms of proposals wiil be furnished to established brick-makers and dealers only, upon application to this office. ‘THOMAS LINOOLN CAREY, Lieut. Oo!. of Eayinesrs. 3e16-6t ExGingkr Orrick, Wasnixetoy by Yak ta | Wasu INoTon, D. ©., June 16, 1880. Sealed Proposals received at ‘this office until 12 m. on the Ist oF Jucx, 1850, and opened immediately thereafter, for farnishiig at the site Y Monument, in this cit , Granite. Specifications, blanks, or any farther informa- tion will be furnished from this office upon the re- quest of parties in the business of quarry- materials. such, pc THOMAS LINOOLN CASEY, Lieut. Gol. incers, U. 8. A, He16-6t miner in Change. Sh. PBoProsaL FOR STONE CUTTING SHEDS. Exorsexn Orricr, Wastsatoy MOwuMEyn,, } WasiiNaton, D. O., June 16ch, 1880. Sealed Proposals will’ be received at this office until 12M. on THE 28rn Day or JUNE, 1880, for the material and workmanship required in’ the erection of Stone Cutters’ Sheds at the site of the Washington Monament, in this city. Specifications, blank forms of proposal and guar- antee, and any other information will be furnished upon application at this office. Simned) THOMAS LINGOLN CASEY, sisi . Col. of Enwineers, U. 8. A, Je16-6t En«in Charge. ___ COAL AND Woop G. © SHERRY, ig cog meget AND WOOD, [> attention given to every order. _o SE gd Ave. N4tromaL FALE ASSOCIATION. FIRST PREMIUM FOR OOAL TELE GSE CLE Se competitors. PIANOS AND ORGANS. HE STIEFF PIANOS. GRAND, rae AND cet, AA ‘The Artists’ Favor ¥ Defy Competition. . ILD & BRO., @. L. WILD & BI 723 7th st.n.w., Also, agents for the Kranich & Bach and otiier first-class PIANOS and ORGANS. Lay Ban wains in Pianos and Organs which have n used. Pienos and Organs for rent at greatly reduced rates durin summer months. Jed ALLET. DAVIS & ©0.S have awarded FIFTY-SEVEN, PREMIUMS and received at the U. 8. Or Exporition THE MODEL OF BONOR and CERTIFIOATE OF DISTINCTION. “A choise as: sortment of these beautiful instruments on hand gud for sale iw and on email instalments at the rooms, Dew. H. L. SUMNER. apli-coly |OS — “superior B. ECKER BROS. PIAN instruments."—Theo. Thomas, 8. B. Mills, J. Rive, &c. Matchless Burdett Or-| wans. Prices reasonable. ‘Terms eacy. Je9 G. KUHN, Sole Agent, 407 10th st. Nos. Barvaine in New and Second- and Uprights and Squares, first-class! makere, call at Vv. BECHER’S, 907 & st. n.w. Toning and Repairs done ekillfally at popular prices. Pianos to rent. 1o'Sme ella = MEDICAL, & . LEON, the oldest established 4 only reli- Dee Dabs rnvstonas in ee ane goneulted daily at 455 Massachanetts avenue, from L to Yo'ciock. All larities quickly cured. rate rooms for patients. ADAM DE REST HAS KEMEDY Mate ha acapaeg tour hours from 1 to 9 p.m. ap2s-: NI |.—The and 903 Bg tol ag ty pew Turkish: ow complete. 2 of managers since ite Cret eetablisincat . SEEDD |. ‘The best sain ot New York. Ca “ANHOOD NM thee mg the Seminal W« ‘Loss of — DAVIDSON & 00., 468-00 78 Nassau sts, Ni s* a ia $f ia victim: of youthful tmapra ture decay, nervous lost wing tried in vain every known remedy, nae dis covers tate salt cure, whica REEVES. 48 Sec ota a dita Yee ence, suarantees acure in I} a: a es al be “AHS Paes iiss da ee