English Spring Flowers.

BY JOHN BIACKMAN.

I. —Snowdrops.

Welcome, pretty English flowers, Fairest harbingers of Spring, Nursed by wintry storms and showers, Sweet the pleasant thoughts ye bring; Peeping from your chilly bed, By the dew and sunbeam fed, Pretty snowdrops. Welcome, genial, bright-eyed flowers, Out awhile from Winter's reach; What the truth your beauty dowers ? What the lesson ye would teach? As you. forms so white and fair, Shine in chaste effulgence there, Lovely snowdrops. Between your green leaves, happy flowers, Truth in golden silence lies, As ye bloom through sunny hours, Under blue and dappled skies, Breathing of a richer Spring On the balmy zephyr's wing. Fading snowdrops. ll.—Violets. The earth is cold beneath our feet, Yet, braciDg is the air and sweet, ' ■ As we go, hand in hand, to greet The coming of the violets. The blustrous winds and drenching rains, Have cleared the winter-whitened plains, And on the banks of elmy lanes, We find the fragrant violets. The whistlißg thrush rejoicing sees, The buds, gold-tipped, on greening trees, And tells across the sparkling leas, The birth-time of the violets. These simple firstlings of the year, Moss-rounded 'tween young leaves appear, And make us feel that Spring is near, And so we love the violets. Though small and worthless in our eyes, Their hues seem caught from happier skies, And who so proud that can despise The message of the violets. And not alone to rural homes, Their wealth of purple beauty comes, Through fields afar the wanderer roams, To bring to town the violets. And there the lonely female stands, With violets culled from forest lands, She holds them in her shrunken hands And cries ' Who'll buy my violets.' But why from nearer duties stray, To write of flowers, what use are they ? Ah me, poor heart, I cannot say, Yet Heaven hath sent the violets. 111. —PfilMß OSES. The keen bleak air is very cold, And'snow o'erlays the wintry world, And lingers on the mountain's brow ; Though not a wild flower peeps between. The upland field and village green, Nor leaf adorns the oaken bough; Still under mos.«y, hazel stems, Bloom nature's earliest, fairest gems, Sweet primroses. The sharp spring breezes keenly blow, And ruffle lineß of drifted snow, Yet rosy children skip and play, And golden hedgerow buds betime Shew prospect of the summer's prime, And minstrels pipe their vernal lay ; Still ye, methinks, so frail and fair, Should nothave ope Jyour star-blooms there Sweet primroses. The savage winds may strangely blow, And lay your clustering beauty low ; Before the nightingale appears ; And yet ye smile, unsconcious things, Where robin redbreast shivering sings Of better days and fewer fears; And bloom amid the landscape bare, Blest witnesses of heavenly care, Sweet primroses. Dear wildings of the woods and meads, Flowers which the worldling little heeds, Bright paragraphs in Nature's book, , Chaste thoughts your yellow forms impai t, To soothe the spirit—glad the heart, And sorrow's hovering shadows brook. What happy views of life ye bring, Ye blessed signs of coming Spring. Sweet primroses. IV.—Daisies. Fair Lillie seeks the meadows, And she sings an artless lay, Among the meadow flowers, With their crowns of silver-grey. The stream, through light and shadow, Courses pleasantly along; Whilst Lillie, fairest Lillie, Sings her own delightful song, All among the daises. She culls the golden cowslips, ■'■,"_ V And no danger seems to heed, Ankle-deep in sheeny verdure, . 'Mong the grasses of the mead. Like innocence and beauty In old Eden's happier land, Seems Lillie in the meadows, With a nosegay in her hand; All among the daisies. Yet saddening thoughts come o'er me, Thoughts of all Earth's many woes; As clouds o'ershade the landscape And its sabbath-like repose. And sin, and want, and sorrow, With their spirit-crushing powers, May o'ercloud the cheery features, Of fair Lillie 'mong the flowers, When far from the daisies. . The Spring flowers still are glorious, • And still blue are Lillie's eyes; And English fields are fragrant, 1 As the fields of Paradise; , The stars still shine as brightly, Through the curtains of the sky, ' And moonbeams sport as gaily As when Eve heard zephyrs sigh, All among the daisies. Had I the painter's power, •To pourt-ay those nectared sweets, Or poet's soul to sing them, With the floral muse of Keats, They should live in sons; and picture, When the world is cold and drear :'; ■ To tell my heart of Lillie And the Spring-time of the year j All among the daisies.

When the late Dr. Scudder (senior) of India, was arching the children of America to care for the heathen, he received a note from a little hoy who had heard him, saying : 'My dear Dr. Scud der, I send you ten cents. "When, you want any more money, write to mei.,.'.-. :u '.- A boy got his grandfather's gun and loaded it, but was afraid to fire it; he, however, liked the fun of loading, so he put in another charge, but still was afraid to hre. ■ He kept on charging without nring, until he had got six charges in the Old piece . His grandmother, learhirig his temerity, smartly ; reproved him, and grasping the old continental, discharged it. ihe result was' tremenduous, throw ing the old lady on her' b&clcT' She promptly struggled to. regain,,,be*'feet but the boy cried out, < Lie still, granny • there are five more charges to go off yet.'' I

His Letter.

One rainy night, about half-past 8 o'clock, the train had dashed into McKibben's Corners, and the mail had been delivered at. the store and post office. John Fairjohn, the postmaster, had opened the bag and counted the letters. There were, as he made out, just ten, and one was larger than the others, and had a red seal; and then he had found that he had left his glasses on the ' newspaper in the back room, and without his glasses he could not read a line; and so, of course, he had gone after them, returning to find two persons in the store —.Farmer Roper and Squire MeKibben, whose ances tors had given name to the place. ' Wet ain't it ?' said Mr. Fairjohn, nodding. 'Wet or not, our folks ain't going to do without their groceries, you see.' said the squire. 'Mail's in, I see. That train came near running into my truck too. Wasn't noticing the flag, and drove across just in time to save myself. Any letters for me ?' 'I'll see,' said Mr. Fairjohn. Be turned to the little pile of envelopes, and told them over in his hand like a deck of cards. ' Why there's only nine,' he said. 'I'm sure I counted right, counted ten, and I thought one had a red seal. I might as well give up keeping the oflice if I'm going to lose my senses like that. There wasn't any one in here while I was gone, was there, squire ?' ' Only Eoper and I,' said the squire, ' and Roper's son. But he didn't come in, did he ?' ' No,' said old Eoper. ' I don't think that Job came in at all. He just went off somewhere.' ' Well,' said the postmaster, after another search, 'Well, I must be mistaken. Yes, there is a letter for you —your folks, anyway—and some thing for you, Mr. Roper. And you wouldn't mind tossing that in at the Smith's as you pass ?' ' Oh, no,' said farmer Eoper. ' Give it to me. That's from Smith that's clerking it in New York, I reckon. Can't get any of 'em to stay and farm.' 'Your son Job did,' said the squire. ' Oh, my son Job. He'd try the patience of his namesake,' said Farmer Eoper. ,' My son Job, bah.' Just at his moment the door of the store opened, and there entered at it a little woman dressed in a cheap calico dress and wrapped in a thin and faded shawl. She looked timidly about the store, still more timidly at the heap of letters, and then, in an appealing voice like that of a frightened child, said: ' Mr. Fairjohn, is there any letter for me this time?' Ihe postmaster, who was a little deaf, had turned his head away and did not know that she had entered, and she came closer to the counter and the light upon it before she spoke again. She was a faded little woman, and her face had signs of grief written upon it, but she was neither old nor ugly yet, and there was something in the damp curls clustering under the faded calico hood, and in the little round, dimpled chin absolutely chi'd-like even yet.

'Is there a letter for me this time, Mr. Fairjohn?' she said again; and this time the postmaster looked up.

' No, there ain't; and you're a fool for taking such a walk to ask,' said he, with rough kindness. 'Wouldn't 1 have sent it if it had a-come, Mrs. Lester?'

'Well, you see; I felt in a hurry to get it,' said she. 'You can't blame me for "being in a hurry, it's so long. 'That's true,' said the postmaster. ' Well, better luck next time. But why don't you wait? Mr. MeKibben will take you over when he goes. He passes your corner.' ' Yes, wait, Mrs. £ ester,' cried Mr. MeKibben,' I'll take ye and welcome.' But she had answered : ' Thank you. I don't mind walk ing,' and was gone. ' Keeps it up, don't she ?' asked the postmaster. 'It's a shame,' said Mr. MeKibben. ' How many years is it now since Lester went off?' ~

'Ten,' said the postmaster. .'I; know, for it was the.day I came here. She was as pretty a woman as you'd want to see then, wasn't she ?'

'Well, yes,' said Mr. McKebben.

'Sailed in the Sphynx,' .said the postmaster. ' And we all know that the Sphynx went down in that voyage, all hands along with her. The rest of the women put on widow's weeds, then! that lost husbands—four in this town itself. They took what the Al mighty sent, and didn't rebel. She set up that her husband, wasn't dead, and 'would come back. She's kept it up ever since; comes for his . letter regular, and he was drowned along with' all the rest, of course, ten years ago.; She must be thirty. Well she's changed a. good deal in that time.'

i ■-'.' Tes;' said1 the .other man-, I'but there's thy son 'Job wild over her yet. He's offered himself twice.; He stands ready to, roffer himeelf again' any day —ready ; to be a father to her boy, and a gdod husband to her. He's better pjf than I be. Bis mother's father left him all he had. He's crazy is Job r-crazy, I call it. Plenty r pf pretty gals,; and healthy smart widows, and he sees jno one l but that pale, slim, little thing that's just gone out into the mud; and/she —why she has lost her senses or she'd have him. Works likef a slay<j to keep herself; and the child,

lives in a rickety shanty,, waiting and waiting for a drowned man to como back again. Why, every one knows Charlie Lester was drowned in the Sphynx. There wasn't a soul saved, not one. It was in the papers, ft ow the bottle was found with a letter in it, writ by some one just before the ship sunk.- And she's waitin' f o him, yet!' ' Crazy on that point,' said the post master. ' "Well, poor soul, she,d only been married a week when the Sphynx sailed • that makes a difference.' ' Oh, yes,' said the larmer. Then, their parcels being ready, they went out to their wagons, and Mr. Fairjohn having stared out into the rainy night awhile, put up his shutters and went to bed. Meanwhile ! the woman plodded on through the mud. ' Walking off her disappoint ment/ she said to herself. ]t was one she should have been used to, and now the absurdity of it seemed to strike her for the first time in all these years. ' They laugh at me,' she muttered to herself. 'I know they laugh at me. Perhaps I am mad; but they don't know what love is. Charlie wouldn't have left me like that. If he had died he would have given me some sign ; and, yet —yet, if he were alive, it would be stranger still. No, no ; they are right—l am wrong. He must be dead' And, as though the news had just been whispered to her, she clasped her hands to her forehead, gave a cry, and sank down on her knees in the road. She knelt there a few moments and then arose. In this interval the wind had blown the clouds from the sky and the moonlight lay white upon the path, and lit her on her way to her poor home. There at the door sat a man, a strong, determined-looking fellow, who arose as she approached and held out his hand. ' Here you come,' he said, ' tired to death, worn out, still on that fruitless errand. Jessie Lester, can't you give up this nonsense and think of the living a little. Think of me, Jessie, for just half an hour.' 'I do think of you,' she said. ' I am very sorry you should be so good to me when I must seem so bad to you.' Then she sat down on the porch and took her little hood off, and leaned her head wearily against the wall of the house ; and the man arose and crossed over and sat down beside her.

' Give it a softer resting place, Jessie,' he said, ' here on my heart.'

She, looking out into night, not at him, as she spoke — 'Job,' she said, 'I begin to think you are right, that ho went down in the Sphynx with tho rost, ton years ago. But what good would I do you? What do you want to marry mo for ?' The man drew closer still as he answered:

'Before you were married to Charles tester I loved you. While you were a married woman I loved you. All these ten years since that vessel went down I've loved you. A man must have the woman he loves if he gives his soul for her.'

* What a horrible thought!' said she. ' His soul.'

' I should have said his life,' said Job, ' I don't want to shock you. But you don't know what it would be to me to have you. And then I'd do everything for your boy.' ' Yes,' she answered; ' I know you would.'

There was a pause. Then she gave him her hand.

' Job,' she said very softly,' I shall pretend nothing I don't feel, but I know I've been crazy all this time, and if you want me you may have me. It's very good of you to love me so.' And thus it seemed to have ended, that ten years' watching and waiting, and there was triumph in Job's eyes as ;he turned away and left her with his: first kiss upon her lips. But at the, end of the green lane he paused and looked back.:

'I told her the truth,' he said, 'when I said that when a man loved a woman as'l loved'her, he must bave her| if the price were his soul itself.'

And then he drew from his breast a letter with a red seal upon it, 'looked at it for a momentj and hid it away again. . v : P

Married ? Tes, they were to he married. Every one at MeKibben's Corners knew, that now. . Jessie Lester went no more to the post-office for her long expected letter. Job was furnishing his house—had furnished it, for on the morrow the wedding was to take place. Arid it was night again. A month from that night when she had come for the last time, as eyery. one thought, through rain and 'mud, to make her I sadly foolish query, she was sensible at last—very sensible. She had chosen the Bub stance instead of the shadow* " ':.'.''.'

And now, as we said, it was night and la wetter ono than that other —later, too, for Mr. Fairjohn.n had closed the store, and was compounding himself what he called a ' night-cap ' of sopie fragrant •' liquor, warm wate, leraojis and sugar, and was supping it by the stove, when there came upon his door a feeble knock, and when, being repeated, he hoard it, 'there staggered in out of tho rain a dripping figur|—that of Jessie Lester, the bride who fras to be on the morrow. She was trembling with cold, and aa he led her to the fire she burst into a fldodibf tears. , ', . aiurs od

' I'm frightened,' she said. ' Some one followed me all the way. I heard them.' ' You've no business to be out alone at night/ said old Fairjohn, bluntly. ' £ nd what's the matter ?' She looked at him piteously. * 1 thought there would be a letter,' said she, ' I di eamt there was one. I thought Charlie came to me and said, 'Go to the oflice once more. I; have written, I have written.' And I thought I saw a letter with a red seal.' * So did I,' muttered old Fairjohn to himself. He went to the box where the letters' were kept, and brought them to her in his hand. 'look for yourself,' he said. 'And now, Mrs. Lester, I'm.an old man. Take my advice. Remember what 'your duty will be after to-morrow. Bemember not to go crazy. Ten years have gone since your husband left this place. ]f he's alive he's a rascal, and you are free of him by law ; but we all know that every man on board the Sphynx was drowned. So be a good wife to Job Eoper and forget this folly. I'll take you home again this time. Lon't come again.' She made no answer, but only tossed the letters over in her lap, and said: ' I seemed to know it had a red seal.' And as she spoke, old Fairjohn, glancing at the door, saw a dark shadow there, saw it grow darker; saw it enter and, starting up on his defence, if need be, recognized Job Boper. He was very pale, and he took no notice of Fairjohn, but crossing the store, stood beside Jessie Lester. ' You love that man best, even now,' he said. ' You'd rather have found a letter from him than not, though to morrow is our wedding day.' She looked up into his face with a piteous glance. ' I never lied to you,' said she. ' You know that.'

He grew whiter still. ' I told you a man would lose his soul for such love as mine,' said he' ' Did you think those were idle words ?' Then he plunged bis hand into his bosom, and the next instant a letter, with a red seal, lay in Jessie's lap. ' I've made you happy, and now I'll go,' he said. ' Fairjohn, I stole that letter a month ago, 'off the counter yonder. 1 knew who wrote it at a glance,' and then the door closed be hind him, and he was gone.

But Jessie had torn open the letter, and never looked after him.

And these were the words sho read, old Fairjohn reading over her shoul der:

' Aboard TnE Silveb Stab.—Jessie, darling: I don't know what makes mo beliovo that I shall find you mine still, aftor all these years, but something docs. Fivo of us were cast on a desert island when the Sphynx went down. Tho two yot alive were taken off it yesterday in skins, with our beards to our knees. We must go to England first —then home. Jessie, Jessie, if I do not find you as I left you I shall go mad. Your husband, Charles Lestee.

And so Jessie's letter had come at last. And as John Fairjohn looked into her face he saw how angels looked in Paradise.

And Job. Job was found drowned in the Kill the next morning. Jessie never knew it, perhaps, for she and her boy were on their way to !New York to meet the Silver Star when it made port.

A Fight for Supremacy.

An Authentic Incident ot? Teavel

in the South-west,

A gentleman residing in this city had occasion, a few days since, to make a journey down the river and several miles back from it, using a saddle horse. Darkness overtook him in a sparcely settled district, and as the roads were in a had condition arid the evening looked threatening, he halted before a forlorn-looking hut, and asked if he could knd lodgings.

' I reckon ye mought/ replied the long-haired, sorrowful-eyed squatter, after hesitating for a moment.

The Vicksburger found little to eat and his horse found still less. The squatter and his wife were all alone and they had but few words for th stranger, and scarcely spoke to each other. When the evening grew old the traveller camped down on the floor on a blanket, and being very tired he fell ; asleep, while host and hostess were smoking their black clay pipes at the other end of the room. He had slept ahout two hours when the squatter shook him by the shoulder and isaid: ,i

■ ' Stranger, I'm powerful sorry to disturb ye, hut I:want to ax a favor.'

' Yes—yes—what is it ?' inquired, the jVicksburger, "as! he rubbed his eyes j and sat up. 'Ye like to see far, play, dor_'t ye stranger?'- ' ..'.-. p > i.-.n-iuj \

'Yes, of course.'

' Well, men the old woman can't agree; somehow she's cross^ i and tetchy>nflnd Lguess I'm !a trifle' Ugly.; Leastwise; we don't hug up worth ole boots. We've' fit arid' fit; I'm old and she's -chuckfull of grit, and- it's about an even thing 1' ;

'Well,' I'm sorry, put in the Vicks burger, as the. squatter hesitated. . m ' We've been a-balkin' since ye cum, stranger, and we've made up to ask ye to hold tho candle arid let ub go in for an old rouser of a fight—a regular old sockdolager, which shall settle our fuss! If I lick, she'll go, if she, lacks, I'lttravel!- i».n_.j »

' I'm sorry if there's any trouble and I hope you won't fight.' 'We've got to do it, stranger,' re plied the old woman. ' I won't live with a man who kin lick me, and he's just as high-born. Sam's as good as the run o' men, but he's lazy and sassy and wants to wear his hat on his ear!,

' She's right, stranger,' said the squatter, ' and this cabin can't hold both of us any longer! It's to he a squar' fight—no kickin' or clubbin,' and we won't go back on yer decision.'

Ihe Yicksburger protested, but the woman placed a lighted candle in his hand, and posted him in the door, and the man and wife stepped out on the ground. ' Suke, I'm going to wallop ye right smart in just four hoots and a holler!' said the squatter, as he pushed up his sleeves.

' Sam, ye don't weigh 'nuff into three tons !' she replied in a grim voice, and the battle commenced.

Tho Vicksburger mentally bet twenty to one on tbe man at the start, hut in two minutes he had reduced the odds to ten, and in two minutes more he was betting even. The wife was like a wild-cat, springing, dodging, striking and clawing, aud pretty soon her husband had to stand on the defensive.

' Look out for the Bengal tiger, Suke !' he warned as he clawed the air.

' I can whip the boots off'n ye Sam,' she replied, and the battle grew fiercer.

One of the woman's sharp nails struck tbe husband's eye and blinded him for an instant. As he threw up his arms she siezed both hands into his hair, yanked him down, and in an other moment had the ' gouge ' on him.

' Sam, do ye cave ?' she asked, as they lay quiet. 'That's the dead-wood, Buke, and I'm a licked man!' he mournfully answered.

She let him up, and he turned to the Vicksburger and inquired: ' Stranger, was it afar fought ?' ' I guess it was.' 'Then I travel 1'

He entered the hut, put on his coat and hat, took up bis rifle, and as he came out he reached his hand to his wife and said:

Good bye, Suke! "We agreed far and squar' and here I go!' Then turn ing to the traveller he added: 'Much obleeged, stranger; ye held the candle plump far, and ye didn't holler for either one of us!

And he walked down to the fence, leaped over and was soon lost to sight. ' Q-ood 'miff on the shoot,' mused the wife as she gazed after him, ' but his fighting weight is cl'ar run down to nuthin'!'

Varieties.

After a Delaware girl had lowered her self from tho window to elope with a young man ho backed out because he was afraid, of the minister's dog.

' Don't call on me fjr three days.' is

what an Ashland girl posted on tho front gate, and she further added : ' I'm going to eat some onions this week if I never have another beau.'

An Aberdeen girl supposes that the reason she has never kindled a flame in any man's heart is because she hi not a good match.

A very pretty Sunday-school song is the one entitled ' Put yonr armour on, my boy.' There is, however, a young lady in our town who doesn't like to hear it. She says it sounds like ' Put your arm ground me, boys,' and it always makes her feel lonesome.

The story of a man who had a nose so large that he could not blow it without the use of gunpowder has turned out to be a hoax.

A Virginia farmer said that carpets looked handsome on a floor, but he couldn't afford to, hire some one to carry a carpet out of door every time he wanted to spit.

A Chicago doctor wouldn't get up at night to prescribe for a sick child, but when he heard there was a chance to saw a man's leg off he slid out of bed like a shot.

The following stanzas are given as suitable reading for lovers, not that the season of .European travel has set in: She.—What will you do, love, when I am going with white sails flowing, the seas beyond? What will you do, love, when waves divide, us, and friends may chide us, for being fond ? He.—Wave may divide us and friends may be chiding, while I'm deciding what I shall do. Then I'll think of you on the stormy ocean, and pledge devotion—but not to you. Talmage says Brooklyn to-day eats scandal, drinks scandal, talks scandal, swealrs scandal, lies scandal, sleeps scan dal-i-to which may be added : moulds candle, sells candle, buys candle, lights candle, snuffs candle, and blows candle out. j

Wjhen the haughty Tennessee editor seizes his pen and prepares to write some thing about the new Tennessee senator, he does th© work up in style. Thus thunders forth, a Shelbyville newspaper; «Our heart swells with true national pride[ as we behold the old ship of state .once more' riding the waves of popular ;s_nti|nent, with the great commoner of our'spate proudly and;triumphantly, t with all the-dignity of a'true statesman, nobly walking, her/deck*: without his peer in the in the land.' i A boy in WttliamsJ;own, Mass>j.became amafc. in his way': While hoeing, corn, one afternoon he turned to his fatherl.who. was forking with him, and said': ' What time is it, father?^ «Half-past %' replied the senior farmer. Throwing down his hoe, jthe son; graduated from his farmer life W^h this remark : ' Twenty-one years; ago, father, at half-past 2 in the afternoon, I was born; you can do your own lioeing after this l'Ll ' : -1: ■ !

A Cockatoo at Church.

A good old lady who lived in one of the country districts, and who had never seen much of town life, was prevailed upon lately to pay a visit to a relative who lived in a distant inland town of some importance, On Sunday the old lady accompanied her friends to church, where her simple notions were shocked at the wonderful display of what she called worldliness and pride. The minister did not escape her criticism. In the midst of the sermon, and while cogitating _ upon things around her, a mischievous cockatoo that had been tamed and taught to speak, flew in at one of the windows, and alighting upon the back of a seat in front of one of the church wardens, looked the gentleman full in the face, and exclaimed, in a clear aud ible voice, that sent a thrill of horror to the heart of the old lady,' curse you ! curse you !' Before the church warden could capture the fugitive it flew to another place, and pronounced its malediction upon another promi nent member of the church. Every body was anxious to see the intruder captured and expelled from the place, and many were the fruitless grabs mdc f or the cockatoo's legs; hut the cockatoo eluded them all, and went round and round, uttering impreca tions. At last he came alongside the old lady, and she, too, shared his ominous imprecations. The old lady rose from her seat preparatoiy to its evacuation, and confronting her white adversary with flashing eyes and uplifted finger, exclaimed, in a sharp shrill voice, ' Oh, ye needn't curse me, for I don't belong to this congregation!' and left the place in deep disgust.

Biding a Shark.

A Hawaiian Songstbes as a Naiad. Miss Adelaide Miller, the Hawaiian songstress, was the heroine, a short time prior to her departure for San Francisco, of an adventure, perhaps unlike any recorded in the wildest productions of fancy; certainly no thing of equal romance has been made public. Miss Miller was on a visit to some friends at Wai-ki-ki, a celebrated watering place near Honolulu, and also noted as the summer residence of the Hawaiian kings. It is a great place for suif-bathing—almost every hour of the day, during the season, shoals of dusky figures being visible bathing among the breakers. The waters near the shore are considered safe, but outside of the reef are ta booed, on account of the sharks, which abound in immense numbers. "Woe to the daring swimmer who ventures that far. Once beyond the reef he may as well make his will in favour of the nearest fish, for his fate is as certain as the depletion of a friendless toper's exchequer by the voracious sharks of a police court.

One day, Miss Miller was enjoying a surf-bath with a number of her com panions. Like most of the islanders, she is amphibious, as much at home in water as upon land, swims, in fact, like a fish, and has a national reputation as a diver. While so engaged, one girl proposed they should swim out to the reef. The suggestion was not followed, fear of the monsters there abounding being the excuse. This did not intimidate the girl who made the proposition, fche resolved to go thither herself, and finally bantered her companions into following her example. As they approached the reef a canoe passed them, the natives in it shouting, ' Mano !' (shark!) also urging them to hasten to the canoe for safety. But, before the terrified girls could move one way or the other, a huge blue shark surged in among them, and rising to the surface, lifted Miss Miller out of the water. In her terror she grasped one of the shark's upper fins. This proceeding, as well as the burden upon its back, seemed to terrify the monster, for it darted off at a speed that would easily outstrip that of the fastest ship, keeping, however, upon the surface of the water. It kept along at this pace for about sixty yards, still bearing the Hawaiian naiad upon its hack, when it suddenly plunged downward, forcing its fair rider to let go her hold, and leaving her unscathed after her perilous adventure. She was soon picked up by the canoe, and, with her com panions, returned in safety to Wai-ki ki. This adventure raised Miss Miller highly in the estimation of her country people, by tho bulk of whom the shark is held sacred, and still worshipped. Even after a century of Christianity, this superstition prevails. The Ka nakas will not kill a shark except in self-defence, nor will they eat its flesh, though this is estimated a delicacy among most of the South Sea Islanders. The fact that a Hawaiian had ridden a fish jso sacred (and, we may add, voracious), was indeed a fit subject for panegyric; though we question whether the highest eulogium would induce the sweet-voiced Mauian to again cavort upon the spine of an azure-skinned ' mano.'

A Delighted Editoe.—' Glory, Hal lelujah ! Bi tol de diddle 01, teedle 10l day !-pall down but nine; Set 'em up in pother alley.—Woop! We'll all get stone blind, Johnny, fill up the jug.—Oh ! saw our leg right off! Pile onto us by thousands ! -i-The last liar in Brooklyn has swornj, and stepped down and out.' From thesejremarks, which are from the head lines <j>f the ' Hawkeye's' Beecher report of yesterday morning, it may be inferred that Ihe editor is pleased to hail the near approach of the end. ii bovo vh\ d_ittW„«o

The Moneyless Man.

Auckland.-Canto I f Is there no place on tbe face of fh a li Where charity dwelletb, where S^ l« birth, virtiie-iiaß '-'•/■ Where bosoms in kindness andmero- l heave, mercy B h»H . Is thereto place where a kbockfrottth . Will bring some kind angel to onentU^ : Ah, search over Auckland wherev^ W:_ There's no open door for moneySS,^ 1 Your. Halls.—Canto II Then go to your hall, with its chandd;_»v , Which drives back with itaas«5 Wb*V darkness of night, Plendonr the, Where rich hangingvelvet in shadowy*^ I Sweeps^gracefully down in its trimS^ And the mirrors of silver take un *-a In long lighted vistas its glittering W * Go there in your patches and find if ■__'„ 1 A welcome smile for the moneyless man °aD '- I The Church.—Canto 111 "" ''"'''' I Then go to the church with its cloud'-nw-v' I spire, aol"?f.r fe Whi^^ S back the sun tha* <*». look of f Whence walls and the arches aregorgeo^ I Andski_ SCem SS PUre as asoul witho^ Walk down the aisle, view the rich and theJ lD 6 SDd the P°mP °f th^*°rl£ Walk down in your patches and find if viß can, '.n. 1* Who will open his pew to the moneylesß m__ ' The Court.—Canto IV Then go to yon judge, with his long flowing Where scales in law weigheth equity down "f Where he frowns on the weak, andsmilegdii" 9 the strong. , :ty Where he punishes right and justifies wron*^ And the jury their lips on the bible W.' ' laid, To render a verdict they've already made Go there in the court-room and find if yon can, * v - Any law for the cause of the moneyless m___" The Bank. —Canto V. ■<■__-. : ._ _ Then go to the bank where mammon I__£^ told, , w a! His hundreds of thousands of silver and gold w Where, safe from the hands of the starring..? and poor, . °, r Lie pile upon pile of the glittering ore Walk up to the counter.—Ah ! there you.. may stay, Feel your limbs growing old and your prawn?* turned away, And you'll find at the banks not one of the j clan, With money to lend to the moneyless man,: . ft

Heaven.—Canto VI. Then go to your hovel, no raven has fed The wife who has suffered so long for her bread. Kneel down by her pallet and kisa the death frost From the lips of your angel, your poverty ■' toast, • Then in your agony, upwards to God, v 7 Bless, while it smites you, that chastening .; rod. " S.." T You'll find, at the end of life's little span, ,- A welcome abovo for the moneyless man.

Ministers that are Over-fed.

What is more delicious for a minister than to accept an invitation to a parish- _ ioner's house, and sit an hour or two in: the evening at the table with a collection of pleasant people? But that is what iv kills ministers. Hot waffles, fresh biscuit ■ oysters and cold tongue at seven o'clock 1 in the evening, have given many a' man >. of God' dyspepsia, a dull brain, poor .; sermons, short pastorate, and an early ,i decease. Bich and late suppers are doing: 7 a bad work for some of our best clergy-: men. We know of ministerial clubs a where the members assemble Saturday;v__. afternoon to discuss religious topics,; ra. tarrying until evening, when a sumptuous «s table is provided for them. As a conse-. ?i quence they do not sleep well on Saturday .:'-■■ night, and the congregation on Sabbath lv see what they suppose is heavenly pallor.. 1 on their pastor's cheek, when his wife w?, knows it was hot buscuit at tea the even- Us ing before that did the business. If.yon k invite your minister out to eat,rbet_er ■;,•(•' have him at noon or thereabouts; or if :•' calling him to tea, then let it be in the; # early part of the week, giving him time ' to get over his gustatory indulgences;:'*. The most of ministers have a powerful dl appetite for good food, and capacity, to resist temptation in that direction is not - one of their strong points. *'"_

Beauty of Jewesees.

It is related that Chateaubriand,. itmM returning from his Eastern travels,^ was asked if he could assign a reason '! why the women of the Jewish race ;;| were so much handsomer than tKo §1 men, when he gave the following: _'f ' Jewesses,' he said, 'have escaped the bitt curse which alighted upon their: hus-iW bands, fathers, and sons. Not a Jew-'' 7'? ess was to be seen among the crowd , ? of priests and rabble who insulted the son of God, scourged Him, crowned •>'"■' Him with thorns, and subjected Him :$& to infamy and the agony of the cross., ,-dq The women of Judea believed in the';' . : Saviour, and assisted and soothed Him under affliction. A woman of Beth- ' any poured on His head precious ointment, which she kept in alabaster vases. The sinner anointed _t_is feet,!'" with perfumed oil, and wiped them \ : _ with her hair. Christ on His part, , extended mercy^to the Jewesses. He ;n| i raised from the dead the son of'the! -oflj widow of Kain, and Martha's brother, '. Lazarus. He cured Simon's mbther in-lawandthe woman who touched hi* ''.•' garment. _ To the Samaritan woman he was a spring of living water, and a com- - passionate judge to the woman pf a<hiW '4 tery.; The daughters of , Jerusalem >m» wept| over Him; the holy women ac-. "! comganied Him to Calvary—brought'^ 0' Him | balm and spices—weeping/ saw ' t>., Him jjat the sepulchre, 'Woman! why >" r weepjjest thou? His first appearance ', after: the Besurrection was to Mary '■_ Magdalene. He said to her 'M»ry!' ; At the sound of His voice Mary Mag- f*j dalerte's eyes.were opened, and she H answered, 'Master!' The reflection <fe some| beautiful ray must haye re«f ■ on tne brow of Jewesses i* 7; h^f

SUPPLEMENT TO THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAB,