v**£wever, the hand of a Jen cm v or the ' fire overtook him, and he was obliged : to abande, the ,-hesi, which was immediately covered to a height ef from stfc to 6ft with the red ashes and the stunes of the adjoining royal palace.' The total result of Dr Schliemarm's excavations is that he has cleared two-thirds o the entire city; and that he has brought to light ' the great tower, the ccsean gate, the City wall of Troy, the royal palace, and the sacrificial altar of the Ilian Athena.' He is somewhat disap pointed to find that 'Tory was not large,' as from its borings it seems impossible that the city could have extended beyond the limits of the hill itself. ].t is compensation to find that'this little Troy was immensely rich for the circumstances of those times, since I find here a treasure of gold and silver article*, such as is now scarcely to be found in an emperor's palace.' A ssuming the houses to have teen of three storeys, an standing thickly together, the Jtown could not have contained more tham 5,000 in habitants and could not have mustered more than 500 soldiers; 'but it could always raise a considerable army from among its subjects, and as it was rich and powerful itcould obtain mercenaries from all quarters.' I he age of the relics in the various strata is an interesting question. Ihe Greek town, whose ruins lie highest in the series appears to havebten in existence about 1,061 years, and the accumulation of debris during this long period amounts only to 6|ft. But the whole thickness lying between tbis stratum and the unmoved rock, the "whole forming an immensly rich cornu copia and exhibiting evidence of four distinct cities, one piled above the Other, is some 40ft to 60ft, and the question arises,' How many centuries have been required to form a layer of debris 40ft or even 46ft thick from the ruins of pre-Hellenic houses, if the formation of the uppermost one, the Greek layer of 6fffc thick, required 1,061 years.

Stanzas to Her who can best Understand Them.

BY LORD BYRON.

I Be it bo, we part for ever, Let the past as nothing be ; ■£Had I only lov'd thee, never L*'" Thou hadst been thus dear to me. ijffad I lov'd, and thus been slighted, v That I better could have borne j liove is quelled, -when unrequited I By the rising throbs of scorn. jjLr/ride may cool what passion heated, *» Time will tame the wayward will; ■IJjnt the heart" in friendship cheated, I Throbs with woe's most maddening thrill. ".Jjfad I lov'd, I now might hate thee— jttpjjin. that sacred solace seek ; Bright exult to execrate thee, jfo'And in words my vengeance wreak. Sgwy^there is a silent sorrow can find no vent in speech ; ■^Kflicb. disdains relief to borrow jHl'rom the heights ■which verse can reach Sralke a clankless chain enthralling, ISLike the sleepless dreams that mock ; Hie the frigid ice-drops falling jjskfom trie mirf surrounded rock. fmfe the cold and sickening feeling InHpou has caused this heart to know ; Bpb'd the deeper by concealing *|||||rom the;world its bitter woe. y^ggiit fondly, proudly deem'd tbee that fancy's self could paint; i: jKe'it bonour'd and esteemed tfiee its idol and its saint ! fSmbfe than woman thou was to me ; *^$$Kji>li as man I look'don thee ; ■fey; like woman, then undo me? jpay heap man's worst curse on me ? Sis.thori but a friend? assuming dprSiiidship's smiles and womans's art; Sad in borrowed beauty blooming, ffitifting' with a. trusting heart. n—wherefore should we sunder ? lust thou not my nature changed ? &: regard me not with wonder, Jglreough despair with demon's rang'd. Khali eye, •which once could glisten s^^reh, approving glance on me ; j cfP^f ear > wmch once could listen owp&ch tale I told to thee ; Jsiat lip its smile bestowing, (jfi|jpi could soften sorrows gash j ; a|r- cheek, once brightly glowing Sh pure friendship's well feigned blush "q'ese false charms united-r ---'lss lr V^' wroug^^ *ky wanton will, Shoes atjra* compunction blighted, C.B. isW would'st not kindly kill. Sale-571111 , ... - |8 thee not! in sadness |el hovr dear thou wert; 25 lid not, c'en in madness, 500 fee to thy just desert. Ibe'auties<ill are faded; ly' flatterers fawn no more; C.B. haskmn shroad hath shaded Good Bargjajdless reptile's store > J|ur, false syren, hear me! J&y'Bt feel what I do now; DißiaM^it, I h?™, rit! g ? ear th6e> pf^iendship's broken vow. kessM'O upbraid thee HIS BXW.pas^ or present state ; ~ \ wast 'say fancy made thee ; HEiju arH-I knotf too late !

%>tij girl of humble extraction Q U X E N t above her station in life — Bw to dxM ns n^rself came °ftQe very LaSpean. - ™maK; Etj:pbemis m—Why are Specially sejjß almost always advertised Alarßeportfeß'' . bu{ 'apartments?' Ghreenstotf tor single gentlemen are Jput surely«together ments H.K. tegs M:Suitabletomanand wife- WON WITH A DIITEHENCE — LABGE ANl*|wfully)-.< Ah, Bridget, I mime.when I could sit on IEBAT VAlgffi&KepXabo-at to adjust some &r Notejlif;, : • .■■'

That Stone by the Roadside.

Where the town of Randolph, now ca-ries on its busy traffic, • J'gbert Eacon's farm once was located. Egbert Bacon was my grandfather. His farm coperedmore than seven hundred; good acres, and he considered himself wealthy, as he undoubtedly was. He started iv life a poor boy, and his honest accumulation was the result of toil.

Grandfather was a very peculiar man. Many persons considered him penurious, but he was really liberal; and, from the fact that his charities were given with secrecy, people supposed that he never contributed to good works. ]t was in his old age (and he lived to a great period) that a company of speculators bought his land, because of tbe fine water-power that ran through it, and as soon as they erected mills the place began to go forward, until Bacon's farm was a thing of the past. I can recollect when the first mill was built, and I well remember my boyish curiosity in watching the mechanics who worked upon it.

My grandmother was about the same age as her husband, fehe did not long survive his death, and I missed a good friend and counsellor when she left me. Grandfather expected me to be a former, but as I never had a taste for hard work, my thoughts and inclinations went an other way. Of course, he was not at all pleased with my stubbornness, but my good grandmother always stepped between me and his wrath; and shielded me from his displeasure.

The old gentleman was a sturdy man at seventy years. He invariably dressed in brown clothes and wore so wide a brim to his low-crowned hat that he might easily have been taken for a Quaker at first sight. But get him angry once (and his irritability was easily aroused) and he would let fly such sharp and vehement sentences that it was sometimes difficult to imagine they were not profane.

1 was nineteen years old, and was deep in love with Sallie Miller, the young lady who played the organ at the cross roads church, and was the finest dancer among all the girls in the country. Grandfather had conceived a dislike for Sa lie, because she was a musician. He had no ear for music, and was 'not moved by concord of sweet sounds/ and nothing so quickly excited his ire as to scrape a violin within his hearing, or strike a chord upon the piano.

Much against my grandfather's inclination, he permitted me to enter the law office of Mr. Smart as a student. iiad it not been for the good offices of my grandmother, I should never have had this wish of my life gratified. But she smoothed the way for my grandfather's consent. But he never reased to ridicule me for my pretensions, and positively refused to give me his consent to marry Sallie Miller. It would not have been a wise thing in me to cross the old gentleman's whims, for I was his heir; and he could have found another without much difficulty, so I uever urged my case, but humoured him in every way I could think of.

Once when i was at home on a brief leave of absence, we were sitting around the open fireplace, and there was a cheery fire of hickory wood. Grandfather was smoking his pipe, and alternately looking at the burning logs and my grandmother's frilled cap. ' What are you thinking about, father?' she inquired. She always called him by that name.

' i was thinking,' he slowly replied taking the pipe from between his lips, and dropping his hand upon his knees, ' that a few years hence and one won't see good old hickory logs burning upon andirons. Stoves and grates^ and that infernal coal, that makes gas enough to suffocate a household, will supply the place of our old-fashioned fires.'

I "ought to have held my tongue, for he was not speaking, to me, but I wanted to show off some of my smart ness, and so I replied :

1 Oh, my dear sir, there is really no occasion for having a stove which per mits the gas to escape. We have now gas-consuming stoves, and one is not troubled in the way you suppose.'

I shall never forget my grandfather's look as he raised his eyes toward me and said, 'We have? Pray, Mr. Smartness, permit me to enquire how long you have been possessed of thi valuable information ? I have known it for some years or rather have heard it said that these stoves were gas burners, but its all a lie; there's not a word of truth in it. I've known them to send out as much gas as would kill an ox if he were confined in the atmosphere. Now, sir, don't you feel like a fool ?'

' Come now, father,' replied my grandmother, 'don't be so severe on the boy/ (she~ called me a boy to the day of her death); *he only told you what he heard, no doubt, and of course everyone is liable to make mistakes, especially about such matters

'That puts me in mind,' continued my grandfather, 'of asking you how you are coming on with your piano playing friend ?'

' I scarcely see her, except on Sun days.'

■ f Humph!' returned my grand father, clearing his throat. I didn't like the ejaculation. I had often heard it before, and I. regarded it

with the same apprehension that a mariner does an ugly cloud that rises up to windward.

*idiumph!' he continued, blowing a column of smoke toward the china ornaments on the mantel-piece, ' what are you good for ?' i- c looked squarely at me as he asked the ques tion.

He evidently expected a reply, so I answered by saying that as yet I didn't know.

' That's candid, s.t all events,' he re plied, ' I've been thinking a good deal about you of late, and it occurred to me that you might make a poor law yer after all. And you know what a poor lawyer is. You remember fclm mons, the man that used to board about on the farmers during the sum mer time ? Well, he was wha,t they term a poor lawyer. He hadn't brains enough to make his profession support him, and was ready to do writing or saw wood, to help eke out a livelihood.'

' Our grandson has brain,' tartly in terrupted my grandmother. 'My side of the family contained no fools, and yours, father, were what was termed cute men.'

' There's a beginning everywhere,' returned the old man, sucking vigor ously at his pipe, ' There must be a beginning.'

Having deliyered this remark witb. an emphasis that left no doubt that he delivered it, he went on :

' Can you take that clock to pieces,' (there was an old-fashioned clock standing in the corner of the room) and put it together again '?'

'I'm no clockmaker, 1 I replied. '.That is to say,' rejoined he,' you have no mechanical ingenuity. One need not be a clockmaker to do that I have done it, and can do it again, and I am no clockmaker.'

' How unreasonable you. are, father,' suggested my grandmother.

He did not appear to notice her remark, but continued: ' Can you turn a somersault ?' 1 1 never tried,' I replied. ' Then you are not as expert as a clown. Eor the life of me 1 can't see what good you are going to do in the world.'

' And I can't see,' said my dear old grandmother, 'what occasion there will be for the boy to mend clocks or turn somersaults. To bear you talk, one would think you had nothing to leave him but your advice, and that is not of the most encouraging nature.'

'A young man should rely upon himself,' returned roy grandfather. ' iiiches take wings. I've managed to hold my property together pretty well, but how do 1 know he will do so when you and I are gone ? He'll marry Mise Miller. What eorfc of a wife will she make him ? Smart with her heels, no doubt. Nimble with her fingers at the old organ, but these won't serve to keep a family from going headlong to destruction.'

' Sallie Miller is a very prudent and useful girl,' replied my grandmother, ' I don't see what you find amiss in her.

' Don't you ?' he returned. 1 hen he relapsed into silence, and smoked and looked into the fire.

By-and-by he got up and walked out of the room, and then my dear old grandmother took my hand and held it in her own, and told me not to fret, that she would bring my grandfather to think better of my sweetheart.

I thanked her ever so much, but I had little hope that she would be successful.

About this time my grandfather was selling some property in the town where I was reading law, and it became necessary for him to go there to sign some deeds and receive the money for the sale. At his request I accom panied him.

It was nearly evening when his business was finished and we set out on our return home. Pour thousand dollars, the proceeds of the sale, my grandfather carried in bank notes on his person, as it was too late to make a deposit in the bank. The old gentleman was in a good humour, and talked plea santly as we drove along. My mind was full of schemes, just at that time, as to how I would support Sallie Miller, if I married her before my grandfather died. I little dreamed that ere we reached home a way would be opened to me. "We were going down a steep hill, and it was now quite dark, when the horse stumbled and fell, and in an instant a shaft was snapped in twain. I sprang out of the wagon and grandfather quickly followed.

The horse, in his fall, had become entangled in the harness, and lay help less upon the earth. The moon was just rising, and gave but an uncertain light, for the sky was full of fleecy clouds, but still it was bright enough to perceive grandfather drop the pack age of four thousand dollars as he stooped down to free the horse. There it lay at my feet, and he was unconscious of his loss. Another in stant and I had picked it up and was holding it behind me, irresolute how to act. You will understand that I didn't intend to steal it, but somehow or other I had an indistinct idea that I could make the occasion subserve my aims. There was a large flat stone. by the roadside. I had trapped a rab bit there once, and I knew there was a considerable cavity beneath it. An instant later, and the four thousand dollars was deposited in the hole.

The shaft being tied up, we got on our way again, but it was midnight ere we arrived at home.

Grandfather had not been within

doors five minutes ere he discovered the loss of his money He didn't get angry, but he was frightened It was the first time in my life I had ever witnessed him alarmed.

•I've lost my money,' he exclaimed, as he drew his hand from his coat pocket. Then he slid down, like a helpless child, into a chair, and the cold perspiration broke out in large drops on his forehead. His face became very white. Grandmother was standing by his side. l Never mind,' she exclaimed, ' grandson will go back and look for it, and I dare say will find it, too.'

' Four thousand dollars don't lay long on any road, however unfre quented, and the one we travelled to night has always some one passing over it.

' I^o, the money won't be found. Ah me1' and the old man lay back in his chair like one ill.

For an instant my heart reproached me, and I was almost ready to confess my trick, for my grandfather looked the picture of despair. ' I'll go and saddle a horse and ride back. I suppose you must have lost it when the horse was being freed from the harness. 'Tis only three miles back, and the moon is now up. It won't take me long to ride it.'

' f think I'll go with you,' said the old man.

1 Don't think of it,' I replied. 'Trust me, grandfather; if I can't mend a clock or turn a somersault, you will acknowledge I was always a good hun ter. I'll bet you anything you dare that I'll recover every dollar of your money.' 'Do you think-so ?' he asked, grasp ing me by the hand. ' You must not mind what 1 said to you, my boy, about being good for nothing. You are my grandson, and my heir, too. All I have will be yours some day.' ' There's one thing you won't agree to lot me have,' I replied. He waved his hand. {I know what you are going to say,' he answered. ' Well, your grand mother has been talking to me on that subject. Go along boy, bring me back the four thousand dollars and ±'11 allow you to marry Sallie Miller.' I made a spring for the door and was hurrying to the stable when the old gentleman followed mo. ' [Remember my conditions, the four thousand dollars I lost. Find that for me and you can marry Sallie Miller, and I'll provide for you. But if you fail to bring my money, I say nay, now, and perhaps for a good while to come.'

I flew along the road as fast as good horse-flesh could carry me; but felt like a guilty wretch as I knelt down by the stone and passed my hand beneath it. A gleam of hap piness crossed my heart as Jh o <

package in my grasp. My first impulse was to hurry hotrle as fast as I had come thither. But reflecting that my speedy return might throw a suspicion upon the affair, 1 allowed the horse to walk nearly the whole distance.

Grandmother met me at the door She said that grandfather had been counting the minutes since I left. He was still in the sitting-room.

I held up the package, and grand mother kissed me

• ' You are a good boy,' she said, ' and I'll see that your grandfather does the right thing by Sallie Miller.' ' Here you are, sir,' I shouted cod ing into the old man's presence, and placing the package in his hands. ' Thank Jtl eaven!' he devoutly exclaimed. 'I had given it up, my boy. Did you have much of a search ? Where did you discover it ?'

1 Just where I said you lost it. On the spot where we broke the shaft/

Grandfather examined the package and found it all right. Then he hugged me and pulled my ear, saying,

' Now, you scamp, you can marry Sallie Miller. Bring her home here, for she, no doubt, requires a good deal of instruction in housekeeping, and your grandmother will make her fit to keep your house from running to waste.'

Keader, these things happened many a year ago. All the landmarks about the farm have long passed away, but there is still a large, flat stone by the roadside, as one rides out from the town of Randolph, and I never gaze upon it without recollecting how intimately my destiny and the old rock are connected.

Modes of Dying.

Augustus Caasar chose to die in a standing position, and was careful in arranging his person and dress for the occasion. Julius Csßsar, when slain by the conspirators in the Capitol, concealed his face beneath j the folds of his toga, so that his enemies might not see the death pang upon his countenance. Siward, Earl of Northum berland, when at the point of death, quitted his bed and pnt on his armor, saying, ' It became not a man to die like a beast/ Maria Louise of Austria, a short time before she breathed her last, had fallen into an apparent slight slumber, and one of the ladies in attendance re marked that her majesty seemed to be asleep. ' No,' replied she, ' I could sleep if 1 would indulge repose, but I am sensible of the near approach of Death, and I would not allow myself to be surprised by him in my sleep; I wish to meet him wide awake.' Lord Nelson, on receiving the fatal shot, said to Captain Hardy, ' They have done for me at last, Hardy; my backbone is shot through;' and had the presence of mind, while carried, below, to take out his handkerchief and

cover his face and stars, to be concealed from the gaze of his crew. And last of all, the groat Bonaparte died in his Field Marshal's uniform and boots, which lie had ordered to be put on a short time previous to his dissolution.

Advice to a Girl who is "Finished."

Josh Billings gives the following

Gertude, yu tell me that yu hay been 2 years at a boarding skool, and hay just finished yure edukashun, and want to kno what yu shall do next. Listen, mi gushing Gertude, and I will tell yu.

Git up in the morning in good season, go down into the kitchen, sieze a potato by the throat with one hand and a knife with the other, skin the potato, and a dozen more just like it, stir up the buckwheat batter, look in the oven and see how the biskits are doing bustle around generally, step on the cat's tail, and help yure good old mother git breekfast.

-After breekfast put up the yung children's luncheon for skool, help wash up the dishes, sweep sum, put things in order, sumtime during the day nit at least two inches and a half on sum one ov yure brothers' little blue wullen stockins for next winter.

Jn other words go to work and make yurself useful now that yu have bekum ornamental, and if yu hay enny time left, after the beds are all made, and the duks have been fed, pitch into the pianna, and make the old rattle box skream with musik.

Do this for one year, and sum likely ytmg fellow in the naberhood will hear ov it, and will begin to hang around yu, and say sweeter things than yu ever heard before, and finally will give yu a chance to keep house on your own hook.

You follow mi advice, Gerty, and see if he don't.

Mrs. Lovel on Matrimony.

Wiiat is love ? Two people meet and look, sigh, and grow pale, the girl puts her needle away, and buys Moore's Poems; the youth makes wrong calculations in his employer's ledger, and perhaps robs the till to make the girl presents. They marry; after a frightful deal of wrangling with each other and their families—after they have become scraggy for want of sleep and feeble-minded for want of rational thinking, then the girl begins to fret. —Richard isn't the same as he used to.be; Richard is often very cross; Hicbard is out enjoying himself, while his wife is at home afflicted with the double calamity of a bad servant and a baby. Her liberty is gone, she isn't allowed, properly if you like; I would have a wife very strict —I say she isn't allowed to please others, and the only person she may please, her husband, is tired of being pleased ; she becomes a drudge ; the nursery fills ; she has no leisure to see her friends; all is spent in looking after the cook and bathing the children, in reading 'dints to Mothers,' and wondering where Richard is. Is that the sort of life you'd encourage a young girl to enter? ' But where there is money most of these troubles are obviated.' Will money keep soldiers and policemen out of the kitchen? Money brings troubles, Mr. Lockfield. It brings society, balls, and fiddles into your house, intoxicated waiters, and a melancholy misapprehension of your position.

The Fox and the Stork.

A. fox, one day, invited a stork to dinner, but provided for the entertain ment only the first course, soup. This being in a shallow dish, df course the fox lapped up readily, but the stork, by means of his long bill, was uuable to gain a mouthful. 'You do not seem fond of soup,' said the fox, concealing a smile in his napkin.. ' Now it is one of my greatest weaknesses.' 'You certainly seem to project yourself out side of a large quantity. 7 said the stork, rising with some dignity, and examin ing his watch with considerable empressement; ' but I have an ap pointment at' 8 o'clock, which I had forgotten. I must ask to be excused, Au revoir. By the way, dine with me, to-morrow.' The fox assented, arrived at the appointed time, but found, as he fully expected, nothing on the table but a single long-necked bottle, con taining olives, which the stork was complacently extracting, by the aid of his long bill,. ' Why, you do not seem to eat anything,' said the stork, with great naivete, when he had finished the bottle, ' No,' said the fox, significantly •I am waiting for the second course.' 'What is that?' asked the stork, blandly. 'Stork stuffed with olives,' shrieked the fox in a very pronounced, manner, and instantly dispatched him. Moral—That hospitality obliges the host to sacrifice himself for his guests. —' The Improved iEsop by Bret Harte.'

Woman's Charm of Needlework.

Thbee is something exquisitely pleasant and touching—at least of a very sweet, soft and winning effect—in this peculiarity of needlework, distinguishing men from women. Our o^rn sex is incapable of any such by-play aside from the main business of life; but women—be they of what earthly rank they may, however gifted with intellect or genius, or endowed with an artful beauty—have always some little handiwork ready to fill tip the tiny gap of every vacant moment. A needle ia fami

liar to the fingers of them all. A queen, ' no doubt, plies it on occasion ; the woman poet can use it adroitly as her pen; the woman's eye that has discovered a new star turns from its glory to send the pol ished little instrument gleaming along the hem of her kerchief, or to darn a casual flaw in her dress. And they have the ad vantage of us in this respect. The slender thread of silk or cotton keeps the:* united with the small, familiar, gentle interests of life ; the continually operating influences do much for the health of +,he character, and carry off what would otherwise be a dangerous accumu lation of morbid sensibility. A vast deal of human sympathy runs along this electric line, stretching from the throne to the wicker chair of the humblest seams tress, and keeping high and W in a species of common union with their km dred beings. Methinks it is a token of healthy and gentle characteristics when women of accomplishments and high thoughts love to sew, especially as they are never more at home with their own hearts, than when so occupied.—' Haw thorne's Marble Fawn,'

She Would Cluck.

They have had more trouble at our Methodist Meeting-house. Last Sunday, Rev. Mr. Moody was just beginning his sermon, and had uttered the words, ' Brethren, I wish, to direct your atten tion this morning to the fourth verse of the twelfth chapter of Saint ,' when a hen emerged from the recess beneath the pulpit. As she had just laid an egg, she interrupted Mr. Moody to announce the fact to the congregation ; and he stopped short as she walked out into the aisle, screeching : ' Kuk - kuk - kuk -kuk-te-ko! Kuk-kuk-kuk-kuk-te-ko!' Mr. Moody contemplated her for a moment, and then concluded to go on ; but the sound of his voice seemed to provoke her to rivalry, and so she put on a pressure of five or six pounds to the square inch, and made such a racket that the preacher stopped again, and said :

• Will Deacon Grime 3 please remove that disgraceful chicken from the Meeting house?'

The deacon rose and proceeded with the task. He first tried to drive her towards the door, but she dodged him, and, still clucking vigorously, got under the seat in the front pew. Then the dea con, seized his umbrella and scooped her out into the aisle again, after which he tried to ' shoo' her towards the door ; but she darted into a pew, hopped over the partition, came down in the opposite pew, and in the side aisle, making a noise like a steam planing mill. The deacon didn't like to climb over after her, so he went around, and jut as he got into the side aisle the hen flew over into the middle aisle again. Then the boys in the gallery laughed, and the deacon began to grow red in the face.

At last Mr. Binns came out of his pew to help, and as both be and the deacon made a dash at the chicken from opposite directions she flew up with a wild cluck to the gallery and perched on the edge, while she gave excited expression to her views by emitting about fivo hundred clucks a minute. The deacon flung a hymn book at her to scare her down again, but he missed her, and hit Billy Jones, a Sunday-school scholar, in the eye. Then another boy in the gallery made a dash at her. and reached so far over that he tum bled and fell on Mrs. Miskey's spring bon net, whereupon she said out loud that he was predestined to the gallows. The crash scared the hep, and she flew over and roosted on the stove-pipe that ran along just under the ceiling, fairly howling with fright. In order to bring her down the deacon and Mr. Binns both beat on the lower part of the pipe with their umbrellas, and at the fifth or sixth knock the pipe separated and about forty feet of it came down with a crash, emptying a bar rel or two of soot over the congregation. There were women in that congregation who went home looking as if they had been working in a coal mine, and wishing they could stab Deacon Grimes without being hung for murder. The hen came down with the stove-pipe, and as she flew by Mr. Binns he made a dash at her with his umbrella and knockedher clear through a fifteen dollar pane of glass, whereupon she landed in the street and hopped off clucking insanely. Tnen Mr. Moody ad journed the congregation. They are go ing to expel the owner of that hen from church when they discover his identity.

Immortality of the Lower Animals.

The London correspondent of the ' Dundee Advertiser' writes :—' The im mortality of the lower animals has long been doubtful. Swedenborg has given some strong evidence in support of the affirmation; and Blake, the artist, has left to posterity a vivid sketch of the ghost of a flea. These seers may have been deceived. Nobody went with Swedenborg on his various voyages into the world of spirits, and Blake's flea has never been seen since it sat for its picture to that weird visionary. But a medium has just come to London who is prepared to demonstrate the spiritual existence, I cannot say of unpopular insects, but at least dogs. Every lover of man's faith ful follower will be glad to learn that his pets have a chance, and that through the powerful mediumship of Mrs. Hardy (from Yankeedom, of course) they may call up the spirit of a once-loved dog. The advent of this gifted lady has pro duced quite a sensation in spiritual circles here. It is on record, and attested by witnesses, that Mrs. Hardy is the source' of manifestations in which a spirit-dog takes a prominent part. Whose dog it is, or has been rather, is not stated—perhaps not known. It is clearly not a dog that will admit it has had its day? Nor is it likely to be an historic dog, but it may be a bygone Derby dog. It is comfort ing to think that if dogs are about to revisit the glimpses of the moon their bark must be worse than their bite.'

Health Notes.

Persons who work hard, under twenty years of age, should be allowed ten hours rest in bed. The health of girls is some times ruined by over pushing mothers. Always air your room from the outside air if possible. Windows are made to open, doors are made to shut —the truth of which seems extremely difficult of appre

hension. Every room must be aired from^ without —every passage from within. t Let it be always borne in mind that cold i aif is not necessarily pure, nor is warm air ■ necessarily impure. 5 In all ordinary ailments and accidents secure quiet of body, composure of mind' « pure air, pure water and simple food at ~ regular intervals ; being aUittle hungry all the time. \ ... 1 Children should be compelled to he out of doors for the greater psirt of daylight from after breakfast until\half an hour before sundown. We do not advise a warm bath oftener than once a week. But we'must consult nature and facts, Each man should bathe * in a manner which, from observation and personal experiment, does him most good. In matters of health and disease each must be his own rule. Immense mischief j 8 daily done by ignoring; this, principle, which is at once the dictate of v a sound' policy and of common sense. The more sick people can slee>, the sooner they will get well;. Sleeping J n the daytime, if before noon, enab* s them to sleep better the following hight\ Fun is worth more than physic, aid\ whoever invents or discovers a newNpuice 1 of supply, deserves the name of a pnbfic j benefactor ; and whoever can wriie fa I article the most laughter-promotm;»,'an<t I at the same time harmless, is worthy^ J our gratitude and respect. It is a bad plan to bft always taking j medicine; such persons are never well. \ f A teaspoonful of blood from the nose has prevented many a fatal attack oA apoplexy ; hence a nose-bleeding is some-\ times the safety-valvfe of life. \ Multitudes bring on themselves the 1 horrors of a life-long dyspepsia by drink- \| ing large quantities of cold water at their s meals. . A Swallowing ice freely in small lumps is the chief treatment in inflammation of . the stomach.

Are you about to be married ? Have you built a house ? Do you wish to furnish economically ? If so, there is, without exception,' the best and largest variety of carpets: and floor-cloths in the province to ■ choose , from at the City Hall, furnishing and dra- I pery establishment. Holloway and Garliok|f>: furnish banks, hotels, offices, and private I residences cheaper than any other house^in town. In addition toßrussel, tapestry, Kid derminster, auahemp carpets, they have flax, coir, and china matting, hearthrugs, .wool mats (in all colors), door-mats (every requisite size), union and wool damasks, quilts, blaa kets, sheetiDg, curtains, etc. Before buying, inspect the stock at the City Hall. We are still selling gents' umbrellas at reduced rates : silk at 7s 6d, 9s lid, 12s 6d ; alpaca, 4s 6d to 6a 6d ; ladies' silk, 5s lid and 6s lid; alpaca, 3s lid to ss. Drapery, clothing and millinery at prices to suit the times —rHollo» way fcGarlick, City Hall, 230, Queen-street. [Advt 1

Printed and published by the propietors, George . gMcCullagh Reed, of St George's Bay, and Henry ■' Brett of Parnell, at their General Steam. Printing. • [ Office, Wyndham-street, in the City 'of AncMand,..: New Zealand:— •. . / t Saturday, August 21,1875 WCiXI ISWaf

SUPPLEMENT TO THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAH



npRY F. G. BEOWN AKD CO.'S X MAIZENA CAKE. PRICE: —ONE SHILLING.- » The Fbcit Cake is a Luxury for the Convalesce!* The Plain Cake is a Kelish for the Invalid. Testimonial :— My Dear Sirs,—Having testpd your Maizena'Cake, I can thoroughly recommend it for its excellency and purity. It is very light and wholesome, combined ■with a richness of flavour, and I consider it superior to the -wheaten flour Cake usually sold. It may with safety be eaten by persons with •weak digestion, or invalids.—l am, dear Sirs, yours truly (Signed), F. T. Bayxtux, M.R.C.S., England.- To Messrs. P. G. Brown and Co., Sj-dney House, next Union • Bank, Queen-street. -^r o t i c X TN TEE SUPREME COURT OF NEW ZKALAKD. NORTHERN BISTBICT. Eetween Johk ShaY, Plaintiff, and/JAMiS Bolmus Hauson, lefendant. Whebtas by virtue of a Writ tof Fieri ■ Facias issued herein, otderiig me that of the real snd personal property ■of the above-rsmed Jamis. Hoimes H*j.son, I should causo to be made the sum of £304, together -with interest on the said:stun at the rate of £8 per centum per am urn,: from the | 23rd day of July, 1875, together with £i 13s 6d for the said Writ, besides Sheriff s ponrdsgo, Offiwrs.J'ees, &c. Kow Ido hereby give notice that I Bhallcinse to be sold by Public Auction by Richard Arthur at hia Auction Mart, Cueen-street, Auckland, on thellth'day > of November, 1875, at the hour of 12 o'clock noon, unless the said sums of £304 and £113s Cd and interest be sooner paid, besides Sheriff's poundage, Officer's Fees, &c. All the Estate, Bight, Title, and Interest of the said James Holmes Hanscn in and to all'those pieces or parcels of Land in the Province of Auck land, containing 61 acres, more or less, being Lots 14, 21, 22\ 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, snd 30, of a Sub division into lota of Allotment Kumber il of,. | .the Parish of Titirangi, in the County of Edeh,\in the Province of Auckland aforesaid. "'•' :l"pOl And I further give notice that the Estate ;) or Interest of the said James Belmes Hanson- in respect of tbe above mentioned lar-ds, consists of hU equity of redemption or other equitable Estate in the said lands, and that all the said lands, and all.tbe estates and interests of the said Jamei Holmes Hanson therein and thereto have been taken by me in execution at the suit of the said John Shaw, the Execution Creditor, Cited the-fourth day of August, 1875. H. C. BALNEANIS; °i Sheriff: 1 Edward B«NNKTr, of Shortland-street, in the City of Auckland, in? the province aforesaid, Solicitor,for John Shaw, the'Execntion Creditor. g<}j£ pAHNELL MASON BEOS. I iff TAKE this opportunity of thanking their patron* for the kin a support hitherto afforded them, ana respectfully beg to inform them that the Planting Season is now on, and solicits an inspection of their MAGNIFICENT COLLECTION OF NURSERY STOCK, Which is Unequalled in the "CoIiOKIEs,' rT^ consisting of Fruit, Shelter, and Ornamental Trees and Shrubs, Roses, Thorns, Quicks, and every re^ quisite appertaining to Horticulture, Descriptive Catalogues of which can be had on application at the Nurseries, or at ME. EOBT. BEEWIN'S SEED STOKES, QUEEN-STR B B T, ' Y> > Town Agent. ' hf\£, HRHE UNDEKSiaNED HAS FOE SALE: V Muntz Metal, (Genuine),'!! to 20om - . ■ * Coppering Nails and Felt '-"." Chain Cables, lrom 6-16 to llin, Admiralty tested tq . Anchors, from 601b to lOJcwC, Admiralty tested ;,,, Canvas, the best assorment in Auckland Saii A large Stock Bolt Rope, Frost Brothers (ben); from li to 4j inch, a large stock on hand . ;k;. Laniard Rope, 4 and 3 Strand, tine yarn rJitff Russian Hemp, a large Stock of assorted sizes ,' "Wire Hope, a large stock of best quality • DfllfJ Paint Oils, Raw and Boiled -ncii Paints and Leads, various colours ■ Pitch and Resin Sail Logs, Patent Logs, &c. ....... :' jr TO ARRIVE F KR CALLER OU AND DTJNEDIN A Lakwk Ahbobtmbnt of SHIP CHASDLEEI-v « D, H. McKENZIE & CO?