The Cardigan Observer and General Advertiser for the Counties of Cardigan Carmarthen and Pembroke

CONSTANCE. Eighteen, with just » touch of pride, And all of girlish grace beside; And, rich in simple charms a queen, By royal right of sweet eighteen. Oh vain attempt of words to show What you by words can never know; For who would sketch the rose, and see The Jiving blossom on the tree ? But search, and say when you have seen t/ The face most fair of sweec eighteen; t And find therewith the crowning grace, A soul to match the lovely face. And even then, when this is done, You have not seen the sweetest one; And Constance will remain confest The chosen queen of all the rest. —Cassell's Family Magazine.

THE STRANGE CLAIMANT; OR, TWICE WED. CHAPTER XXI. UTTER PROSTRATION. the transient repose in the little room of the *»lue Moon, and the hospitality of its good-natured hoat, Nelly had been startled by a contentious scene, *nd had fltd like the affrighted deer at sound of horn. The few mouthfuls of food she had swallowed, and the lift upon the road, had so far recruited her that 6 was able to take her wearied child without effort In her arms, as she quitted the house by a back door a.nd set off across the country in the direction, as well as aha could judge, of the market town. Nelly judged wisely, that, in the daylight, two figurts, evon from a distance, would sooner attract the Notice of pursuer, or any to whom description might be given, and, wrapping the child in her dark drapery, Pacified her with tales of all she should sea in the town till she fell asleep and the mother, as the sun rose high, struck into the close and shady lane to Pursue her weary journey. She had spoken at random when she mentioned London to Laxity, yet she pondered, if that goal COuld be reached, what better one could she fix upon ? In a crowd—Nelly said to herself-her safety would lie, and she bad resolved on keeping the road that lay through towns and dwelling. places. Single- handed, she could never cope with her purbuer, and believing the crushing evidence she held against him, she felt that in solitudes that would be little worth, which, among his fellow-men, Saul would less lightly brave. It was a weary journey-footsore and heartsick, friendless, and almost without hope—yet the longing, the urgent, fixed desire to be far away from him, from the place his presence and his acts polluted, gave her strength, at times, almost superhuman. Unacquainted with the country round, the poor Woman had made many mistakes, taken long, cir- cuitous walks, to find herself only where she had started, or calculated to reach a certain town, from which night would find them yet many miles distant. She feared to make inquiries too frequently, or even accept a lift in the passing cart or waggon, often pr, ffered by kindly travellers she knew not whom to trust, nor how far or determinedly Meghorn might pursue his search for them. Some general idea she had gained of the route to London, and, to the best of her ability, made it out, preferring the chance of oc- casional errors on her part to the horrible contingency of being carried back to the dread habitation at Deep- gang. But, powerful as is the human will, and dominant as is the mind over the material humanity, the latter will not be left wholly to inconsideration. Feet will blister, and limbs grow stiff, and nerves relax, be the determination ever so firm, the will as strong. It was evening; the sun had set, and twilight shadows were gathering fast over the wide landscape, in which no sign or sound of humanity was discover- able, save the two tired travellers, woman and child, who rested them on the bank of a small, lazily-creep- ing brooklet that ran beside the narrow country road. Not a dwelling, not a spire, not the most distant inti- mation of town or village within view. The last pennv had been exchanged for a small loaf and a draught of milk, for the child, at the hamlet they passed through that morning. There they told her the town was but seven miles off, and they had walked, at least she had, almost without intermission since. Could she have missed the way ? she asked herself, as she yielded to the child's desire to sit down by the "pretty water." U No, I can't have missed it," she said to herself; "it must be that I am so faint and weak I have not walked so well. Oh God, help me! where will this end ? No money, and no food, and for the last two days only a bit of bread my strength will not hold out much longer. I have strange aches and faintceaa come over me already—what if I should be ill ? what will become of her ? oh! my punishment is heavy, heavy-" The last words she moaned out aloud in the despair of her heart, and the child, who had wan- dered off a few paces after some gleaming object in the water, ran back to her side, and looked up into her face, where, sesing sadness depicted, she l'iid one little hand upon her mother's arm in childish symp .tby. JJon't cry, mother dear, good mother, don't 'ee cry I won't cry, mother, and it's nicer out here by this pretty water than at home; eh, mother dear, eh?" H- r mother kissed the pale cheek and anxious eyes of her darling. Ida's gentle, uncomplaining endur- ance of discomfort had done more to give her strength than all the exhortations of more advanced comforters could have done. "Isha'n't cry, dear pet, while my Idy is so good; but, my darling, I fear we shall get no house to-night to sleep in, and perhaps no supper." "I are hungry," said the little one, plaintively: then quickly added, "but to-morrow, mother, to- morrow us shall, eh ? Oould the most eloquent preacher have painted more forcibly the implicit trust of faith ? Yes, yes, dear," said the poor mother, almost un- consciously, as the child was attracted again by some fresh novelty from her side. She arose, and, calling the little one to her side, resumed her walk forward. But even in that brief interval, she seemed to have lost all the energy which had hithertc inspired her limbs; she dragged on feebly a few steps, then halted, then by dint of lean- ing on the various objects along the hedge-side, reached a corner where a narrow lane, with green banks on either side, intersected the highway. She sank down slowly upon the turf, and, resting her head upon the hawthorn, felt steal over her tnat utter prostration which left her barely the strength to cry, feebly, "Lord, help my child! have mercy upon her! The poor child knelt beside her mother in an agony of grief and terror, and, with her arms about her neck, kissing, crying, and caressing, besought her not to die and leave poor Idy all by herself." Feebly the poor woman returned the caress, and strove to whisper comfort to the baby companion of her Borrows; feebly moaned out a prayer for pardon for the error of her life, that had brought her and the darling of her soul to such a pass. Then, just, as the new sound broke the stillness of coming night, and a child uttered an exclamation, she lost all consciousness, and sank back wholly into the green bosom of the sweet hawthorn thicket. OHAPTER XXII. OVERTAKEN. THE sound was a soft tread of hoofs upon the loose surface of the narrow lane, down which was advancing a sleek and well-conditioned pony, at that easy amble which was evidently his accustomed pace, and which he was, apparently, not to be easily urged or induced to increase to any higher rate, though, at his own pace, he might be safely backed to go any given distance; the meditative mood, too, was habitual to him, his head forward, inclined eyes perusing the quality of the road, or, it might be, engaged in » curious calculation of thø number of inches, rods, perches, &c., according to Walkingame, Upon his back was seated an el ierly woman, dressed in black, a white beaver hat upon her head, a large basket slung before her, and attached to the fore part of the saddle a lantern. She, too, was sunk in thought: the pair, so far, agreed—agreed, too, that, simultaneously with the pony making a sudden halt, the dame cried" what's that ?" and lifted up her lantern the better to answer her own question. The that was a little girl with pale face and stream- ing eyes, and long, black hair hanging wild about her face, her head uncovered, her dress tumbled, her hands stretched out towards the pony, and sobbing out some words, which, if that sagacious animal did comprehend, and had acted on, it was more than his rider did. She was not, good woman, a believer in Pucks or fairies, yet a more complete realisation of one she had never seen spring, as it seemed, lroni the mossy bank of the hawthorn glade. But, fairy or human, the exhortation came natural enough from the amazed traveller of- Whit's the matter ?" ) "My mother! my mother! her's dead, her's dead," sobbed the little apparition, with a voice drowned in tears of genuine humanity, though the com- munication in itself was anything but encourag- ing, and changed the suspicion of pixy to that of a banshee. Where is she ?" came next, naturally, too, from the dame, meanwhile deftly disengaging her-elf from her trappings and wrappings, and approaching the little figure. "Where is she, my dear?" she repeated, as a touch of the cold little hand, and a gleam of the helpless, childish eyes removed the last doubt of the creature's individuality. The pony was left to his mathematical pursuits, apparently to his perfect satisfaction, by the wayside, while the dame followed Ida to wberenelly lay. She stooped over the senseless form a few minutes. She's not dead, my dear, she's only in a faint," said the olct woman: "but, eh, dear! how white she is, and cold, too. What must we do ? let me see!" A very short interval of thought sufficed for decision. The stranger gave a peculiar call, which was in- stantly recognised and obeyed by the pony with deco- rous deliberation he came close to where she stood then his mistress, lifting Nelly in her arms, as easily as if she had been a child, deposited her safely on the seat she had berselr occupied, wrapping the insensible woman round in her own warm overcoat. She then took the animal by the bridle, and, giving the lantern to Ida, bidding her go on in front -for it was now quite dark-the little party set out, at a somewhat quicker pace, which the pony adopted, in compliance with a hint from his mistress, evidently not without compunction at the disarrangement of his yet unsolved problem. So they arrived, in a very short space of time, at what appeared to be a largo mansion, by the glimpse afforded of heavy iron gates and a wide extent of wall, but they passed on, and arrived at a small door in the side of the edifice, at which the pony halted at once, and anticipated his mistress's knock by butting with his head whereupon the door was opened by a pretty young maid, dressed also in black, with snow white-neckerchief and apron. "Eh, Bakes, mistress! whatever have ye there ?" she exclaimed. The dame made no reply, but bade her come and help. Together they carried the still insensible woman into the house, and, while the girl disburdened the pony, and led him to his stable-for a pony of so it editative a turn it should have been a study—the elder woman proceeded to minister to her afflicted charge. In a few minutes Nelly opened her eyes upon a scene of light and warmth, and felt the genial touch of kindly hands she put forth her arm, and raised her head, looking for her child, whom she found close at her side, and who hailed her mother's return to life with a joyful exclamation. Nelly essayed to speak, but her voice failed, her kind benefactress put her face down to her lips, and caught the words, while the poor woman's eyes wan- dered to her child— Pray give her something to eat." Tears stood in the eyes of both the women; the younger bad already set food before the little girl, but she had not even noticed it, had heard nor seen anything, fixed at her mother's side till she beheld her once more restored. Now she could eat, and the eagerness with which she acceded to the request told how sadly she had needed it. Then the two helped Nelly to a warm bed, and ad- ministered such light refreshment as she could take, and, in a very short time, the child was sleeping sweetly by her side. The forlorn woman took the hand of her benefac- tress in her own, and kissed it, while tears poured down-how long it was since last she shed them! From the fulness of her heart she blessed and thanked I her. But you don't know what we are!" she said, feebly. feebly. "Never mind, never mind all that," said the dame. kindly; you are ill and in some trouble, I guess, and isn't that enough ? oh, ay, I shall like to hear all about it, of course, of course! I'm a woman,; you know, and of course I like to bear a tale, but another time, another time; now you go to sleep! i see, the little one's asleep already, bless her! and in the morning you'll be able to talk." I God, bless you!" said the woman, faintly. Am I safe?" she added, fearfully, and still scarce her- self. Safe ? of course you're safe; there's no one but j us women in the place; but then the dogs are as good as a dozen men, and not half the trouble. Now, good night! Go you to sleep, and never fear." S With those last words of comfort sounding in her ear the hunted woman slept. The night lamp burned dimly as she now and then opened her eyes half doz j ing, and thinking it a dream—all was still through the house, and at last she slept. But even in her slumber she was pursued by the waking dread. She was again upon the road-he was there, he had got Ida, was threatening her life, and she on her knees imploring, while he mocked her with that terrible voice. She screamed, and awoke-the tones still sounding in her ears—she started up. it was no dream! that was the voice of Saul Meghorn beneath the window. CHAPTER XXIII. AT FAULT. WHEN good dame Tibbetts again visited her patient, before herself retiring for rest-after the alarm of herself and niece, occasioned by the unusual applica- tion at their door?, had subsided—she found the poor woman in a high fever, and in a state of mind border- ing on delirium. There needed not much consideration on her part to decide on remaining by the bedside of her strangely- found charge, and, dismissing her siece at once to her night's rest, she entered upon the self-imposed duty, like the veritable Samaritan she was. Through a whole week of painful tedious sickness these kind creatures nursed the unhappy Nelly; the dame administering her own simple remedies, soothing her troubled mind, and restoring the fainting and suffering frame. The malady did not take any turn so alarming which the good woman deemed to call for medical aid. She had, through a long life, neither sought it for herself nor others whom she had nursed through far worse affliction; and perhaps she did not err very much in the reliance on Nature, left to herself. The stranger was suffering, in fact, from the re- action consequent upon excessive tension of the powers, bodily and mental; the last stroke of terror had over- come her, and she lay utterly prostrate. For two days and a night she wandered pitifully in her mind at times, talked of things utterly incompre- hensible to her kind watcher, chiefly exhorting her to protect and save her child, of whose welfare she never lost sight, though failing to recognise even her pre- sence. As much as was possible, they kept Ida from her room the pretty niece, Rachael, being quite content to make her her constant care. The child was never happy but by her mother's bed-side, yet she yielded to the young woman's kindly caresses, and was won upon to relate, in her artlass way, many incidents of their weary flight, and of much preceding it, that set Rachael pitying, and filled her with curiosity to know more. Rest and kindness, nouri3hing food, and, more than all, a blessed senaa of safety, gradually re- stored the sufferer, and at the end of the week she had left her bed, and was sitting, with' her child upon her lap, beside her good Samaritan, to whom she had been relating so much of her story as sufficed for the general understanding of her situa- tion. The good woman sat for some minutes in Bilence, then she said, gently- I guessed much of what thee haft told me per- haps it might be from some of what thee hast said in thy sickness, unknowingly. And I am glad thee hast told me truth, else I should have thought worse of thee, judging, as I say, what was thy grief. Young woman, I am sorely grieved for thee indeed, and tby case seems a sad one, yet I cannot approve thy act. Thou say'st thy husband was harsh and unkind, and that thy life was aweary yet thee shouldst re- member that He who lays the burthen upon us will not suffer it to bear us to the earth, and that, though we bend and groan beneath its weight, we have no right to cast it from us, nor to say, It is heavier than I can bear, I will no more of it! She stopped, for Nelly, leaning over her sleeping child, was weeping. "Nay," the kind dame went on, "do not think me harsh nor unkind. Indeed, I am but saying that I believe, and which I deem most wise and prudent, and befitting one who has a Christian part to fill. "God had seen fit thou shouldst be this man's wife, and thou hadst so accepted him. Was it then for thee, after thou hadst so become, to judge him ? to cry, I He ie unworthy of me; I will quit him who is my master and my husband, to whom I have pledged my life and ray troth ?' What wouldat thou say of a servant, even, who should 80 quit thy service unadvised ?—and how much more wert thou to him thou so didst leave ? But my child ? sobbed Nelly. I felt I could not live long—and to leave her to him Has the good Lord not care for the smallest of these ? said the old woman, solemnly. Will He sleep now, dost thou think, that thou shouldst tremble for His charge?" I have not told you all, quite," urged the afflicted woman. I had cause to suspect him of a fearful crime—a crime that would cause his life to be for- feited. I did not wish to be his death; but I could not, could not——" 'Till death do us part," murmured the dame, in ft clear, urgent tone; "it wts so thee didst say, my child, aud has thy oath been kjpt ?" Nt-lly'bethought her that it was indeed by death they had been parted, and of its bony symbol now lying hid awtly in the foils of her dress, wherr, with the ring, ah.- had stitched the skeleton hand, for security. But she said nothing, though she now saw, as in a vision, the fresh obstacles that she trust en- counter in this the rough path she had chosen. A few more daya passed. She gained strength, and urged her wish for departure, Ever since she had began to sit up, she had insisted on employing her hands at some needlework-the only means she pos- sessed of testifying her gratitude; and the unusual skill and beauty of her work had gratified the old woman extremely. From Rachael, Nelly had learned the cause of the disturbance that had so alarmed her, and, to her relief, that Saul had only inquired the road. It might have been a traveller, who had lost his way; or it might have been some evil-disposed fellow," said Rachael. Aunt thinks it was, as the barking of the dogs seemtd to have scared him; for when we got to the upper window, where we answer from. he was gone. It would not do, thee knows, to open the door to all at night, and we but two lone women, though the dogs are a safeguard-that is certain." It was a poor chance—the venturing forth again in uncertainty—and Nelly felt it to be so; but she was greatly restored, and her little dauehter seemed almost to have forgotten her share of their troubles in the pleasant life she now led. Indeed, Nelly dreaded a longer continuance of ease, and determined on at once setting forward. She had already urged bAr wish, and been always induced to delay by the kind persuasion of her "ew triends now she announced her resolution fixed. She was alone with the dame when she said this. It was evening, and little Ida, with the gentle Rachael, was enjoying the delightsof the small garden -th? only cultivated piece of all the vast wilderness that surrounded the house. Nelly, with the mosr fervent expressions of Ilrah- tude for all the kindness she had received, bad told her she should depart with the morrow's dawn. '• And thee hast thought of what I said," asked dame Tibbetts, earnestly thee will return to thine own lawful husband and his home ? or thou wilt tell us where he may be found. and we may send for him to come to thee. It would, indeed, rejoice me to restore thee to him." (7b be continued.)

NEARLY AN ELOPEMENT. MATILDA MURRAY was left an orphan and an heiress at the age ef 16. Jacob Dale, a member of the Society of Friends, was her guardian; and, with him and his wife, an invalid and a great sufferer from nervous attacks, Matilda was to tind a home. She had been a petted and idolised child and the change from the lavish outpourings of parental love to the cool, calm companionship and care of friend Dale and his wife was like coming out of the heated air of a ball-room into the dark and chilling night. They tried to perform the duties that Mr. Murray, in blS confidence and esteem, had devolved upon them but Matilla felt, without knowing exactly how or why, that duty, and not affection, was the motive that influenced her guardian and his wife towards her. She was not a pretty girl; although, through the mistaken fondneda and flattery of her parents, she had learned to think hersel b'auttfu* Neither was she very wise or prudent. She had grown up in such an enervating atmosphere of praise and indulgence, that her mind was almost in a state of lethargy. She could not endure study or books of an7 kind, except the weakest and trashiest of love-Blck romances; and it was so great a mental effort to her to read one of those quite through, that she rarely s[] complished it. The only motive sufficiently strong to arouse her to much exertion was a love for dress. She was quite happy and excited when she was shuppi0^» and, next to-that, she liked to sit at the window aDd criticise the attire,, of the passers bv-a most uncon- genial inmate for the household of a strict and uncom- promising Quaker. It was noL the least of Matilda's troubles that her ribbons and laces had to be laid aside, as friend DBole, though he did not require her to conform exactly to the mode of dress his tenets prescribed, yet Objected decidedly to Allowing a ward of his to deck her9^ out with any superfluous gauds. It cost the yOi° £ girl many a sigh and pang to close the drawer* In which lay her useless finery. She pined, too, for JOTI, and for the flattery and praise of which she had 80 long been the object. Her guardian still allowed her to attend the school which her mother had selected for her—one of the most fashionfble establishments in York. And, although he often shook his head and groaned over the worldly notions and love for display which seemed to be the chief results of this kind of education, yet, as he said, he did not feel free to take the child away for, while Mr. Murray had left him at full libery to act as he thought best with regard to Matilda, Mrs. Murray had made it an especial request that her daughter's education should be finished at Madame constaufs. There Matilda had formed an intimacy with a young girl, named Anna Fleming, who affected to regard her with that exaggerated fondness so comJllon among school-girls. Their homes were in the Same direction, and Anna always seemed to consider it an important part of her duties, as a friend, to accompany Matilda to her own door before she parted from her. One day they were joined in the street by a tall, showily-looking young gentleman, whom Anna intro- duced to Matilda as her brother. After this, bir. Fleming became their constant escort on their way to and from the school, leaving them regularly .b.f'n within a short distance of either place. Mr. Fleming was one of the most fashionable and dashing young men in the city. He lived elegaoly and expensively; yet no one could tell how he con- trived to do so. His way of life was one ef those mysterious secrets that abound in large cities, for he had no apparent means; and yet he vied with the wealthiest around him. Admirer, as he was, of beautyj and spirit, and wit, there must have been some reason for his selecting a plain, uninteresting girl to b$the object of his devoted attention. Probably the eohd charms, in the shape of .£18.000, with which Matilda was endowed, had much to do in gaining her so dbvoted a worshipper. She admired him excessively. He fully realised the beau-idial she had formed from the books in which she delighted. She told Anna ahe thought her brother perfect. This of course, soon found its way to the ears of the gen- tleman, who smiled to think how easily he had won so important a prize. In a few weeks more, he bad obtained Matilda promise to be his wife, and had, at the same time, impressed upon her the necessity of keeping the whole affair a profound secret from friend Dale and his wife. To this Matilda readily consented, as all her preconceived ideas of guardians were that they were a class of people whose only pleasure lay in thwarting the wishes of their wards especial'y in the matrimonial way; and she anticipated no difficulty in thia, as Mr. Dale was too much absorbed in his busi- ness to pay much attention to her • and his wife's attention was almost entirely engrossed by her ail- ments, which developed every day something new and singular. Mrs. Dale had been watching and ponder- ing over her own ill health for ten years and had not yet been able to determine satisfactorily what her dis- ease was, or where it had its stronghold In her per- plexity, she had tried eight different physicians, who each gave her complant a different name; and some were truly frightful, so that the poor lady would keep her bed for weeks after finding out how ill she was; and it would take all her husband's generalship to persuade her that she was able to sit up. Of course Mrs. Dale could do little for Matilda All that she attempted was to urge her to keep her feet well pro- tected from the damp pavements, and be sure'to wear a veil. There was one inmate of the family of whom the young girl stood in a little dread—George Dale, a nephew of Mr. Dale, and a boy of about IS. He was very curious and inquisitive, and Matilda said, had no soul. He called her Miss Fancy and teased ber until her patience was quite exhausted. lately, he had met her several times when she was taking a longer walk than usual with Mr. Fleming, discussing ways and means. Matilda had one fixed idea con- nected with an elopement; and that was a rope-ladder from a chamber window, a carriage underneath, and a moonlight night. Mr. Fleming tried to convince her that this combi- nation, in these days of policemen, would be sufficient to arouse the whole neighbourhood. But hie eloquence was wasted. Matilda would seem to yield to his reasonings every day; but the next morning would fiud her firmly planted on her rope-ladder again. She rejected with scorn Mr. Fleming's proposal to walk to some clergyman's house, and induce him to marry them. It was too much like a servant girl, she said. Fortunately for Matilda, this discussion occupied several days. Meantime, George had used his eyes and his wits to seme purpoae. One day, after Mr. and Mrs. Dale and Matilda had seated themselves at the dinner-table, a singular noise was heard in the hall; and George came in, dragging after him an enormously long rope ladder. "Now, Matty! what on earth do you want with this contrivance ? I saw the man smuggling it into your rocm; and I thought I would bring it down for you to see if he had made it according to orders. You at the window, and Mr. Fleming on the pavement, with this for a passage-way, is to be the order of the day, is it ? It reminds me ot some one'* description of a 6shing-rod->t. worm at one end, and a tool at the otuwr, only I anould put kuave for fool." Thee should not use such language, George," said Mr. Dale What does thee mean by that thee W,\8 saying aoout Mr. Fleming? And, Matilda, for what purpose did thee have that made r' Matilda burst into tears, and ran from the room without replying; but George enlightened his uncle aa far as he could. He knew that Matilda walked every day with Mr. Fleming and the rope-ladder told the rest. Without Mr. Fleming's knowledge, Matilda had obtained it by the help of a servant. That very night, she intended to make use of it, if a favourable opportunity presented. Anna was to spend the evening with her, and help her to arrange t!er plans, and carry the intelligence of them to her brother, who was growing a little impatient at Ma- tilda's delay. Now, all her hopes were blighted, at least for a time. She remained in her room weeping, while her guardian spent a busy afternoon in investigating the doings of his ward. He questioned the servants, who generally know all that is to be known of any matter of that kind, and went to find Mr. Fleming. He expos tulated with him on inducing so young a girl to take such a step without the knowledge of her protectors. Mr. Fleming appeared to be quite affected by Mr. jDkle's arguments; and although the latter was a shrewd man of business, he allowed himself to be en- tirely thrown off his guard by the apparent manli- ness and frankness with which Mr Fleming avowed his own consciousness of his error, and promised that, although he would not be willing to consider the en- gagement between himself and Miss Murray as at an end, still he would wait some years before attempting to carry the matter further. The youne man behaved himself with great pro- priety," said Mr. Dile to his ward. It thee does as well, I shall be quite satisfied. (To be continued.)

A POWER above all human responsibility ought to be above all human attainment. He that is un- willing may do harm, but he that is unable can't. PAT IN THE ORANGE FREE STATE. — At length I struck the trail of a waggon, which, following up, brought me first to a cattle kraal, then through an orchard, and afterwards to two houses, one inhabited, the other going through the course of construction. I went to the door of the former, and there met an old man; I asked for vater, and he shouted to someone within, vater J with stentorian lungs. At length an aged woman came out, looked at me, gave a grunt, and turned on her heel. My appearance, it was quite certain, did not please her. I was satisfied that I should have to go without a drink. I was about to give up the task as hopeless when she came again to the door, took a long stare and snorted, then retired into the interior of her dwelling. She was the most comical-looking old woman I had ever seen her height was equal to her breadth, and round her face hung a fringe of diminu- tiye white curls. For a quarter of an hour I waited, j still neither she nor the water came. In the adjoins Ing tenement I heard hammering, and an occasional | snatch of The Wearing of the Green," then a pause. Soon, in a deep, sonorous voice broke out: And I met with Napper Tandy, And he took by the hand, &c." U Tbat's the place for my money," I inwardly thought. There is no making a mistake. what country owns the possessor of that voice." So I took the pony by the bridle, and looked in through the door; there I saw a man nailing up laths quite after the orthodox pi aster t r fashion. Good morning to You, Pat," said I. Good morning to you kindly," said he. Can I get a drink of water ?" I enquired. Is it water you mane ? lashings and leavings about! here." So he jumped off his perch in search of the liquid I required. Soon he returned with an ample supply. Producing my flask, I took a mild drink— bis eyes were on me all the time. Would you! like a drop ?" I asked. Would a duck swim ?" Was the response. So I poured out a stiff I quantity, and handed it to him. With a Sulp he swallowed it;- then with a grin," That's the illigant stuff; lui thinking you fetched it from i the ould counthry." Of him I made enquiries as to my route, the m03t expeditious way of getting to it; to all of which he gave me satisfactory answers. When about to take my departure he threw down his hammer and nails, put on his coat, and exclaimed, Begorra! that's the last nail I'll drive this blessed day! If the naigurs (meaning the Boers) are in a hurry, they had better do it themselves."—Parker GUlmore's Side through Natal, the Orange Free State, fyc. WHALING IN PLOVER BAY.-—Although Plover Bay is almost in sighi of the Arctic Ocean, very little snow remained on the barren country roucd it, except on the distant mountains, or in deep ravines, where it has lain for ages. That there snow," said one of the sailors, pointing to such a Bpot, "is 300 years old if Its a day. Why, don't you see the wrinkles all over the face of it ?" Wrinkles and ridges are common enough in snow; but the idea of associating age j with them was original. The whalers are often yery successful in and outside Plover Bay in secur- I lng their prey. Each boat u known by its own private mark—a cross, red stripes, or what not—on I Its sail, so that at a distance they can be distinguished from their respective vessels. When the whale is harpooned, after a long and dangerous job, and is floating dead in the water, a small flag is planted In it. After the monster is towed alongside the Vessel, it is cut up into large rectangular chunks, and it is a curious and not altogether pleasant s'ght to winess the deck of a whaling ahip covered with blubber. This can be either bar- relled, or *.he oil "tryedout" on the spot. If the letter, the blubber is cut into mincemeat," and chop- Ping knives, and even mincing machines, are employed. The oil is boiled out on board, and the vessel when seen at a distance looks as if on fire. On these occasions the sailors have a feasi of dough-nuts, which are cooked in boiling whale-oil, frittars of whale brain, and other dishes. The writer has tasted whale in various shapes, but although it is eatable, it is by no means luxurious food. It was In these waters of Bering Sea and the Arctic that the Shenandoah played such havoc during the American war. In 1865 she burned thirty American whalers, taking off the officers and crews, > nd sending them down to San Francisco. The cap- tain of an English whaler, the Robert Tawns, of Sydney, had warned and saved some American vessels, and was in consequence threatened by the pirate captain. The writer was an eye-witness of the results of this wanton destruction of private property. The Coasta were strewed with the remains of the burned vessels, while the natives had boats, spars, &e., in numbers.- The Sea. AFFABILITY OF THE JAPANESE.-The prinoi- pal charm of travel in Japan is due to its human in- habitants, the most affaole and friendly race in the world, so far as I have yet seen. It is indeed a new sensation to the European in Asia, when he finds that his dress and complexion produce an attractive instead of a repellant effect, and that even the women and children neither hate nor fear him- Without being able to speak three words of the language, you cannot help feeling at home in a country where every one seems delignted to see you, where the very dogs are too well-mannered to bark ata stranger, and where you are Welcome with friendly salutations of Ohaio!" by all, from the village patriarch down to the smallest urchin. A ragged neglected child may be looked for vainly in city or in country; plump, rosy, and clean, with ample clothing, and their little heads carefully shaven in a variety of fantastic fashions, th* children afford a sure indication of prosperity among the lower orders in Japan. The rising generation, who in Ohina (and even nearer home) will ridicule and insult a foreigner, display towards him in Japan a dignified courtesy, which is at once ludicrous and charming. Babies, carrying still smaller babies on their backs. greet the passing stranger with a gracious bow, and if he seats himself, collect around, silently surveying him with an intelligent interest. Their gravity, how- ever, is merely on the surface, and if the aspa jt of the "red bristled barbarian" proves, as it occa-j sionally does, too much for the nerves of a girl more timid than the rest, and sends her clattering away in a panic on her wooden pattens, her night is the signal for a peal of derisive merriment from her compa- nions. As soon as they receive a little encourage- ment they become more demonstrative, and are almost equally gratified by a distribution Of small coins or by gestures of simulated wrath. In the latter case they disperse with shouts of laughter, only to collect again in large numbers, until some of the elder chil- dren, usually girls, venture to approach near enough to touch and examine the stranger's coat and buttons, or the contents of his travelling belt. All this ia done in the most gentle and confiding manner, as if certain that there can be no cause fQr fear, and perhaps their trust is seldom misplaced; but certainly their be- haviour towards a stranger is in marked contrast to that of rural youth in other parts of the world, and it is to be hoped that when they know foreigners better they may not like them less. Affection for their children is a distinct characteristic of the Japanese, and their hearts are easily touched by kind- ness shown to the little ones, whose long robes and elaborate coiffure render them the very images of their parents in miniature. It is not too much to say that in Japan the class known as "gamins, "larri- kins," or hoodlums," has no existence at present; even the street bov is a little gentleman, and long may he so continue. On the other hand, if the children resemble grown men and wo-men, these in their turn are eminently childlike in manners and disposition.- fortnightly tUvieWt

USEFUL HINTS. To MAKE TOUGH BEEF TENDER.—The San Fran- cisco Weekly Bulletin says: To those who have worn down their teeth in masticating poor old tough cow- beef, we will say that carbonate of soda will be found a remedy for the evil. Out the steaks the day before using into slices about two inches thick, rub them over with a small quantity of soda, wash off next morning, cut it into suitable thickness, and cook to notion. The same process will answer for fowls, legs of mutton, &e. Try it, all who love delicious tender dishes of meat. THE SKIN or SOLBs.-The practice of flaying off the brown skin of soles deserves reconsideration by cooks. The custom is by no means universal, and we are our- selves more inclined to honour it in the breach than in the observance. At Dunkirk, for instance, where they know what good fish is, we have eaten soles served by an accomplished cook with the skin left on both sides In fact, why remove the "kin from either side? Thorough scaling is sufficient for cleanliness and for appearance, solts can always be served like turbot and brill, with white side uppermost. Even if the brown skin be not liked to eat, it helps to retain the natural juice of the fish, and in boiling it keeps the water out; if it is liked, by all means let it be eaten, beinir not only wholesome but very nutritious.—Cassell's House- hold Guide. MACCARONI A L'lTAHENNE.—Throw lib. of macca- roni into b- iling water with a little salt and an onion with four cloves stuck in it; boil till tender, but not soft; drain the maccaroni well, put it into a stewpan with 8oz. of butter, and mix well by stirring the butter in the warm maccaroni; add six or eight tablespooh- fuls of gravy grate £ lb. of Parmesan and the same of Gruyère cheese, mix it with a pint of tomato sauce, add it to the maccaroni, set it on the fire, stir, add salt and pepper to taste, keep it on the fire for about ten minutes, stirring now and then, and serve warm. JAM.—It is not generally known that boiling fruit a long time aud slamming it well, without the sugar and without a cover to the preserving-pan, is a very economical and excellent way—^economical because the bulk of the scum rises from the fruit and not from the sugar, if the latter is good and boiling it without a cever allows the evaporation of the watery particles therefrom the preserves ke!.p firm and well flavoured. The proportions are fib. of sugar to lib. of fruit. Jam made in this way, of currants, strawberries, rasp- berries, gooseberries, or an equal quantity of goose- berries and raspberries, is excellent. OHIIIDREN'S walks should not be too long, because from the exhaustion produced, growth and nutrition are arrested, and fevers and protracted debility may be the consequence. Perambulators are unhealthy for children unless judiciously used the convenience of them tempts nursemaids to keep their charges out too long. When children are kept in the air for lengthy periods, the stimulus of light and air proves too much for them. Hence they fall into a state of exhaustion and stupor too frequently mistaken for sleep. HOUSEKEEPING is a science, and there is no greater mietake than that of supposing proficiency in it can be gained otherwise that. by patient study and close observation. It is absolutely necessary that a lady who would rule her household well, should have a practical knowledge of all domestic work, that she may be able to judge how much each servant may reasonably be required to don a given time; so that no one shall be idle, no one over-taxed. A knowledge of cookery will enable her to point out to inefficient cooks the cause of mistake and failure; and sheahould not only know how things should look and taste when sent to table, but be able to judge of, and choose well, every kind of provision. It will not be ecsy for cooks to impose on a lady who krows exactly how much of every ingredient is requisite for each dish, and who is able to estimate the quantity of food re- quired daily for her household. It may not, under all circumstances, be necessary for a lady to exercise her knowledge in these important matters; and if she has a cook who has proved herself trustworthy, she will do well to delegate large powers to her. But it is obvious that, to judge the skill and honesty of her cook, the lady must possess the knowledge I have indicated. Nothing, I believe, can be done to make domestic life better, until all women who take the conduct of households are properly educated for their business; nor can any reform in the present sad con- dition of our cooks and cookery be looked for until ladies courageously determine to fit themselves to work this reformation.- Queen.

Talus are moral ballast that often prevents our capsizing. When we have much to carry, Heaven rarely fails to fit the back to the burden where we have nothing to bear, we can seldom bear ourselves. The burdened vessel may be slow in reaching the destined port, but the vessel without ballast is in im- minent danger of not reaching it at all. A SISTER'S LovE—Who can tell the thoughts that cluster around the word sister? How ready she is te forgive the errors, to excuse the foibles of a brother. She never deserts him. In adversity she clings closely to him, and in trial she cheers him. And when the bitter voice of reproach is poured in his ears she is ever ready to hush its harsh tones, and turn his atten tion away from its painful notes. THE CINNAMON CANARY.—What may ha.ve been the origin of this canary, as a variety, we can only surmise; but that it is a distinct variety, its peculiar characteristics not common to other canaries, and certain native properties not elsewhere discover able, and which seem to cling to it in spite of the endless crosses to which it has been subjected, abun- dantly testify. Most prominent among these is the pink eye, which no othercanary,not having cinnamon blood in its veins, possesses. That the bird is traceable to the common stack we must take for granted, and we think its distinctive plumage is referable to the peculiarity many wild birds possess of assuming a cinnamon garb. This is by no means a feature of rare occurrence, with many of our indigenous birds, such as the j ackdaw, starling. blackDird, goldifach, green- finch, redpoll, skylark, saridmartin, and others; and this colour may have been prized and perpetuated in the case of this canary by the selection of those bearing it. —CtMMHtM and Cage-Birds.

VARIETIES. Leva ANB WEEPING.—He who has most of heart knows most of weeping. REAL LOVE.—The love of woman is gold that has been tried in the fire. The love of man is too often alloyed with baser metal. TRUTH.—Adhere and undeviatingly to truth; but while you express what is true, express it in a pleas- ing manner. Truth is the picture, the manner is the frame that dislays it to advantage. CHARITY.—Flatter not thyself in thy faith to God, if thou wanted charity for thy neighbour; and think not thou hast charity for thy neighbour if thou wantest faith to God-when they are both wanting; they are both dead, if once divided. LOVING FRIENDS.—Never cast aside your friends if by any possibility you can retain them. We are the weakest of spenthiifts if we let one thing drop off through inattention, or let one push away another, or if we hold aloof from one from petty jealously or heedless alight or roughness. DEATH IS BIRTH.—No man who is fit to live need fear to die. Poor faithless souls that we are! How we shall smile at our vain alarms when the worst has happened! To us here death is the most terrible word we know. But when we have tasted its reality it will mean to us birth, deliverance, a new creation of ourselves. MATURE LOVE.-Perhaps love is never so potent as when it seizes upon those who have passed their first youth, or even those who have passed the prime of life. The choice made is then likely to be thoroughly suited to the nature of the man; and any intelligent i gifts on the part of the woman are likely to be more attractive to a man of this age than to a younger person. THE LATE POPE AND HIS PREDECESSORS.—The late Pius IX. was two-hundred-and-fifty-second Pope, and his reign was the longest of all. Only three died at a more advanced age-John XII., aged 90; Clement XII., aged 92 and Gregory IX., aged 100. Of the two hundred and fifty-one who preceded Pius IX., there were fifteen French, thirty-eight Greek, eight Syrian, six German, five Spanish, two African, two Savoyard, two Dalmatian, one English, one Portuguese, one Dutch, one Swiss, and one Candiote. Italy has furnished the remainder, and it is remarked that there has been no break in the Italian succession since 1523. IT N EVEB. COMES.—We never have to-morrow; it is simply a world of prophecies. It has been said that the two great pleasures of living are in having something to love and something to hope for, and the last of these is ever before us in the promise of "to- morrow." To-morrow we may not know, and it is well that it is thus ordained to be, for beyond the in- visible veil that conceals alike its coming joys and sorrows, our fancy may revel only in what is beauti- ful and fair, nor see the gloom or shadow of coming trials and worldly afflictions, that, could we anticipate as fixed realities that were certain to come, would mar all our peace and enjoyment of the present. It! is well for us that we cannot withdraw the veil which hides our future. CAFFRE ETIQUETTE.—The CafFre name for etiquette is hlonipa." There is an etiquette of the family, an etiquette of the tribe, and, among the Zulus, an ad- vanced people, an etiquette of the nation. The women must not mention the name of their father-in-law, and they hide, or pretend to hide, when they meet their sons-in-law. It used to be the custom at Eton for boys to shirk when they met a master out of bounds. "Shirking" was a mere legal fiction; a; stout boy might hide himself behind a slim lamp-post, j and the master was bound to behave as if the lad were satisfactorily concealed. In the same way, if a Zulu lady encounters her son-in-law in a place where there is no cover, she hlonipas," or shirks," by tying a I piece of grass round her head, as a sign that she com- plies with custom, and is in fact invisible. TEARLESS LUNATIcs.-One of the most curious facts connected with madness is the utter absence of tears: amid the insane. Whatever the form of madness, tears are conspicuous by their absence, as much in the depression of melancholia, or the excitement of mania, as in the utter apathy of dementia. If a patient in a lunatic asylum be discovered in tears, it will be found that it is either a patient beginning to recover, or an emotional outbreak in an epileptic who is scarcely truly insane, while actually insane patients appear to i have lost the power of weeping; it is only returning reason which can once more unloose the fountains of their tears. Even when a lunatic is telling one in fervid language how she has been deprived of her children, or the outrages that have been perpetrated on herself, her eyes are never even moist. The ready gush of tears which accompanies the plaint of the sane woman contrasts with the dry-eyed appeal of the lunatic. It would, indeed, seem that tears give relief to feelings which, when pent up, lead to madness. It is one of the privileges of reason to be able to weep. Amid all the misery of the insane they can find no relief in tears. A FUNNY DOG AND PIG STORY.—A New Zealand paper vouches for the truth of the following story: There is a dog at Taupo, and also a young pig, and these two afford a curious example of animal sagacity and confidence in the bona fidea of each other. These two animalalive at the native pa on the opposite side of Tapuaeharuru, and the dog discovered some happy hunting grounds on the other side, and informed the pig. The pig, being only two months old, informed the dog that he could not swim across the river, which at that spot debouches from the lake, but that in time he hoped to share the adventures of his canine friend. The dog settled the difficulty. He went into the river, standing up to his neck in water, and crouched down; the pig got on his back, clasping his neck with his fore-legs. The dog then swam across, thus carrying his chum over. Regularly every morning the two would in this way go across and forage around Tapuaeharuru, returning to the pa at night, and if the dog was ready to go home before the pig he would wait till his friend came down to be ferried over. The truth of this story is vouched for by several who have watched the movements of the pair for some weeks past. Music A STIMULANT.—AIneri often, before he wrote, prepared tie mind by listening to music. "Almost all my tragedies were sketched in my mind, either in the act of hearing music or a few hours after," a cir- cumstance which has been recorded of many others. Lord Bacon had music often played in the room ad- joining his study. Milton listened to his organ for his solemn inspirations; and music was ever neces- sary to Warburton. The symphonies which awoke in the poet sublime emotions might have composed the inventive mind of the great critic in the visions of his theoretical mysteries. A celebrated French preacher, Bordaloue or Massillon, was once found playing on the violin, to screw his mind up to the pitch, pre- paratory to his sermon, which, within a short in- terval, he was to preach before the Court. Curran's favourite mode of meditation was with his violin in his hand; for hours together would he forget himself, running voluntaries over the strings, while his im- agination, collecting its tones, was opening all his faculties for the coming emergency at the bar. IN RUSSIA.—The brilliantly-coloured signboards give the streets of a Russian city a particularly gay appearance. At almost every corner you come upon a Byzantine-looking shrine of the Virgin, with a! number of Russians in front of it, bareheaded, cross- ing themselves. You meet the Virgin in various; other unexpected places-in railway stations, in post- offices, with a little oil lamp flickering at her feet- even in the drowsy lock-ups, where tipsy mujiks can be heard yelling all day and night. The behaviour of the people in the streets is quiet and civil. If a Russian knocks against you, he begs your pardon with a sincere show of contrition if he sees your nose turning white in the cold weather, he picks up a handful of snow and rubs it with a brotherly officious- ness till the circulation is restored. All along the populous streets pedlars saunter, selling dried mush- rooms, cotton handkerchiefs, religious prints, white bread, and fritters but few of them shout. Pigeons infest the roadways with impunity, for they are held sacred. Even if a Russian were starving, it would not occur to him to knock one of the birds on the head and cook it. Dancing bears are also to be seen in great numbers, and, though not sacred, are great favourites, and always draw crowds, who laugh at their antics like children, for Russians are very easily amused. LEARNING AND LOVING.—The sentiment that a few years ago, more than to-day, prevailed among men, that "learning spoiled women for loving," could hardly have been the result of an acquaintance with the history of the learned women of the past. Veronica Gambara, most learned and wise, was as loving and devoted as the historic Dido. She was of noble birth, and from a child displayed a surprising aptitude for study. At ten years of age she was writing Latin and Greek sonnets. Of a serious temperament, her tastes led her to the study of sacred literature, and she be- came one of the most learned theologians in Italy, and was given the title of doctor. She chose for her hus- band Gilbert of Corregio, chief of that illustrious house, and was married to him in 1508, when in her twenty-fourth year. At the end of two years shewas the mother of two sons. She was tenderly loved of her husband, and as he had remarkably beautiful eyes, she addressed, to those s^ij\inS or^3 some of her most exquisite sonnets. This husband, so well be- loved, died ten years after marriage, and Veronica, although still young, consecrated herself to eternal widowhood. During the remainder of her life she had her apartments draped in black, was drawn about by the blackest of horses, and always wore a garb of deep widowhood. Heiress to all her husband's for- tune, she superintended the education of her sons, one of whom rose to high military rank, while the other became a cardinal. She continued her own studies the same as in her youth, cultivating her love of poetry and literature. Personally she was not beautiful, but she had in conversation a rare charm that no one could resist, even when discoursing of learned things. A collection of her letters and poems was published at Brescia in 1769, [ A true friend eases many troubles, whereas ond who is not so multiplies and increases them. More than half the evils we endure are imaginary. So with our pleasures most of our enjoyment con- sists in anticipation. Leave nothing that is necessary in any matter un. done-we rate abflfiy in men by what they finish, not by whsA they attempt. GOOD TEMPER.—The sunshine of good temper pene- tratw the gloomiest shades; beneath its cheering rays the miserable may bask, and forget all their misery. STRENGTH OF CHARA.CTER.-No man deserves to be praised for his goodness unless he has strength of character to be wicked.-La Rochefoucauld. FRENCH NOTIONS OF AN ENGLISH CHRISTMAS.—A French paper thus describes the origin of the great English holiday:—" Christmas-day is better known as Boxing-day, because the inhabitants give each other a box of bon-bons in token of friendship; after the dinner of turkey and plum-pudding, guests and hosts repair to the theatre to witness the burlesques; over the door of the house is suspended a sprig of box, and every time a lady and gentleman cross each other there they kiss." TESTS or DEATH.—M. Laborde has read before the Academy of Science a communication on a new means of determining the existence of death. He points out that when a finely-polished steel needle is plunged sufficiently deep into the tissues of living animals, at the end of a variable but usually short period, the needle looses its metallio tissue to a greater or lesser extent and becomes oxodised. If, on the other hand, such needle is introduced into the muscular tissue of a dead body and left there for twenty minutes or an hour, it remains perfectly untarnished. The oxidation of the needle and the themic and electric conditions to which it is subjected constitute, according to M. Laborde, a constant and reliable sign that death is only apparent. WEARING FLANNEL.—The majority of people are not aware of the beneficial effects of wearing flannel next to the body, both in cold and warm weather. Flannel is not so uncomfortable in warm weather as prejudiced people believe. Frequent colds and con. stant hacking coughs have been cured by adopting flannel garments. There is no need of great bulk about the waist, which condemns the wearing of flannel with uhose who prefer wasp-waists to health, for in that case the flannel can be cut as loosely fitting waists, always fastening at the back. There are scarcely any of the bad effects of sudden changes of weather felt by those who wear flannel, and mothers especially should endeavour to secure such for their little people in preference to all those showy outside trimmings. LORD BROUGHAM'S RETURN AS MEMBER FOR Y OIUt.- I have said before that the repeal of the Orders in Council was my greatest achievement. I say now that my return for the great county of York was my greatest victory, my most unsullied success. I may say without hyperbole, that when, as knight of the shire, I was begirt with the sword, it was the proudest moment of my life. My return to Parliament by the greatest and most wealthy constituency in England was the highest compliment ever paid to a public man. I felt I had earned it by the good I had done—that I had gained it by no base or unworthy acts. I am bound to add that the feeling of gratification was general and strong in the party, both towards me personally, and with a view to the good of the cause. Not outlying members of the party, but those who were in. the strictest sense partly men shared in the triumph.—Memoirs of Henry Lord Brougham. FAMILIAR LovjL-Perhaps there is no period so pleasant:among all the pleasant periods of love-making as that in which the intimacy between the two lovers is so assured and the coming event so near as to produce and endure conversation about the ordinary little matters of life; what can be done with the limited means at their disposal; how that life shall be begun which they shall lead together; what idea each has of the other's duties; what each can do for the other; what each will renounce for the other. There was a true sense of the delight in the intimacy in the girl who declared that she had never loved her lover so weU as when she had told him how many pairs of stock. ings she had got. e It is very sweet to gaae at the stars together; and it u sweet to sit out among the hay- cocks. The reading of poetry out of the same book, with brows all close, and arms all mingled is very sweet; the pouring out of the whole heart in written words, which the writer knows would be ridiculous to any one but the dear one to whom they are sent is very sweet; but for the girl who has made a shirt for the man she loves, there has come a moment in the last stitch of it sweeter than any stars have produced.— Anthony Trollope. CURIOUS REMEDY FOR GOUT.—-A curious remedy for gout is thus described by Kossuth. He says that having suffered for some time from gout in the head, he was recommended by his physicians to go to the grotto of Monsummano, near Pistoia, in Tuscany, which has for the last thirty years had a local reputa- tion for curing persons afflicted with rheumatism and other kindred diseases. On arriving at the grotto, he had to take off all his clothes and enter with nothing on but a long shirt and a pair of slippers. The in- terior is lighted with wax candles, which show the beautiful stalactites which hang down from the roof. Here he sat for ten minutes, after which he began to perspire profusely, and the doctor hurried him out of the grotto, although he would have liked to remain some time longer. He was then rubbed with cloths and wrapped up in flannel, and, after a warm bath, breakfasted in the adjoining restaurant. This treat- ment was repeated daily for eight days, ft the end of which time he was completely cured. Kossuth says that no one has yet been able to explain the healing properties of the grotto; the temperature in its warmest parts is not more than from 32 deg. to 34 deg. centigrade, and is often cooler than that of the air out- side, while the water in the grotto is quite cold. Kossuth believes that the effect produced must be due to some electro-magnetic agency.-(A Hungarian paper).- Magyar Ujtag. THE MILKMAN AND THE BBBRSHOp.-During one of my visits to Northampton I heard that an old member had taken a beershop; he used at one time to sell milk, during which I knew him, his wife, and daughter. I was sorry for them, and therefore starting off at midday to find out and enter the beershop, hoping, as I was known to be a total abstainer, that no one would see me. I found ü- at home, and said, Whatever has brought you into this den ? "-C. A man must live."—-J. B.: "I do not see any par- ticular need for you to live, when you live only to do evil to the bodies and minds of men; you would be as well away, and then you would do no harm."—C.: You are very plain." -J. B. I design to be plain. When you sold milk you were employed in what did good to society, but now it is the reverse. Whatever made you bring your wife and daughter into this place, where they must see.and hear.many things they ought not P"—C.: Why, this trade is as honest as that at any rate."—I never knew before that he put water into his milk; but this was a plain confession. So that one evil leads to another. He appeared to get on prosperously in his wicked traffio some years, j when he committed some mistake in law, on account of which the whole of his property was swept away, and he became a very poor man. I believe he is still living; may it be to do good and not evil, and may he become wise. Society owes no man a living who lives only to do harm to its members.— JHQWCS'M Autobiography. AN ENGLISH LAPDOG AT CALCUTTA.—" My dearest Sister,—I will try to run off a letter early in the morning, for it is hot, and I am so sleepy after lun. cheon that I always fall asleep when I am in a tran- sport of sentiment over my letters home. The weather has been better through the last fortnight; occasional days of pouring rains when we can have the windows open, and there have been two or three evenings this last week which were really pleasent-something like the hottest summer evenings of that exquisite country, England-with a little air stirring, and no necessity for gasping with one's tongue hanging out, like Chance. That little black angel has the audacity to dote on India, and never enjoyed better spirits, or a more imperious temper. He was once nearly carried off by some vultures, and he and 's greyhound both narrowly escaped the snap of an alligator. He swims so far out into the Ganges that his own attached servant screams with fright. He has learnt from the patives to eat mangoes, and is very much suspected of smoking his hookah whenever he can get comfortably alone with my tailors. lie is allowed, for a great treat, to run before our horses on a cool evening and the other day, when George was riding with me, Chance insisted on going to the racecourse with us. I asked_ Captain Alacgregor to inquire why Chance's o»n valet was not with him, and he translated the answer that when the Lord Sahib himself took the dog, the sicar, or head of that class of servants, thought it right to go himself. So there was a grand-looking man in the flowing dress of the upper servants, with a white beard down to his waist, gambolling after Chance, who took to running after birds, and gave a little growl every time his tutor interfered, and the sicar, who was not used to him, looked frightened out of his senses, and then began running again. I could hardly ride for laughing, but I mentioned the fact for Dandy's edification."—Miss Eden's Letters from India. GUN PROVING.—By Act of Parliament the strength of every barrel made in England must be proved, and certain descriptions must be twice proved, in the proof- house at Birmingham or in that of London, before issue to the public. This is done by loading and firing them with a charge five times as heavy as they are ordinarily expected to carry. Some, as may be sup- posed, explode under the trial; as to the rest, they are laid aside for awhile, and then minutely examined. Should there be a flaw in them, the saltpetre in the proving powder will after a few hours discolour the outside of the barrel. If there appear, however, to be anything amiss which the saltpetre has failed to bring out, the tube is filled with water, and a ball larger than the bore hammered into it. This compresses j the water so violently that if there be the slightest i crack it oozes througu ami poffnnndnow.