ORIGINAL POETRY.

THE CHRISTMAS TREE. f >.-..,-q. n O ne will you n* £™d orfair, that can compare Be VPth ou? glorious Christmas tree. Then hurrah ! to the tree that we love, 4 nipi-rv sons: sing we ; Tn the Tree, all trees of the world above, Hurrah for our Christmas tree. Ba^-ou Sr will know, wherever you go, rillK^tX«ffin%eits m all, Ar .C;:»SSS^'ooblean am e "A* H^&SffiS*t-e that we love, AT^^ee SiuitfeSthe world above, Hurrah for our Christmas tree. Did vo- ever know, in the widewide world, ThoSh^looTSe^uwUi, andgo looking L^e that of our Christmas tree. Then hurrah ! to the tree that we love To 4^rS^oft^world above. Hurrah for our Christmas tree. And Us topers bright, as the sweet starlight, Throw out a hundred gleams : And pray do you know any tree that cau show A fruit of'silvery beams; Ano so we declare, contradict if you daie, Suc?||c^^^^aSemoonorthe h.3 our glorious Christmas tree. Then hurrah ! to the tree that we love; A merry song sing we ; To the tree, all trees of the world above, Hurrah for our Christmas tree.

CHRISTMAS DAY.

CEKISTMAS Day ! Sells are ringing ; ""Fj'aizs and garlands deck the street; In th.j Churches ueople singing Christmas hymns and carols sweet. In the street friends ava meeting, Clad in holiday array, ■ Kiini their voices, warm their greeting, Blithe all hearts on Christmas Day. Chkistmas Day ! In cot or castle In ail happy Christian lanas Kindly hearrs hold joyous wassail, Love and Charity join hands. Youth and Age. all ranks, conditions Own the season's preninlsway; Yield to kindly rites, traditions. Homage due on Christmas Day. Ceristjias D iy ! Wand'rers, banished, Tho' in pagan lands they roam, Think this day on faces vanished— Think this day_ of friends and home. So i Loi'3 on the mighty ocean " Feel their fancies homeward stray, Ar6 they pledge, with deep emotion, Sweethearts, wives on Christmas Day. Christmas Day ! Children listen; Now'a the season of delight; Young cheeks flush and bright eye: glisten, Every youthful heart is light. Ecw"tUeV joy o'er Christmas treasures ! How they laugh, and romp, and. play Blindman's buff-ail Christmas pleasures ! Glad young hearts on CHRISTMAS B\\. Christmas Day ! Oh ye wealthy, Feasting in your mansion^ fair. Think oi those in dens unhealthy— Poor, oppress't with, want and care. On your boards is eA'ery dainty : Give a little part aAvay. Ye h.-ve holidays in plenty— The poor have only Christmas Day. Christmas Day ! Day most holy i ■ Day Of our Redeemer's Dirtn ! Day of joy to rich and loAVly. Day oi ioy to all the earth ! On. this day, above all others, Christ's Divine commands obey. On this day all men are brothers— Let liove rule on Christmas Day. ' " —T.S. Onc-hrmga.

WIVES IN RUSSIA.

A PE vs v:;t in the villas c of Zalova Baltia, having reason to doubt the fidelity of his spouse, deliberately harnessed her to a cart in company with a mare—a species ot. double harness for whiuh the lady was probably unprepared when she took the nuptial Vow. He then got into the cart in company with a friend, and drove the ill assortqd* team some sixteen versts (nearly eleven English miles) without sparing the whip-cord When he returned from his ex cursion he shaved the unlucky woman s head, tarred and feathered her, md turned her out of doors. She naturally sought refuse and consolation from her parish priest • but he sent her back to her lord and master, prescribing further flagellation. An appeal to justice by the poor woman, and her relatives resulted in a non-suit, and any recourse to a higher court will probably terminate in the same manner, xhe use ot the whip is almost universal in Russia ; any magistrate can order the knout to be ap plied to a malefactor ; and a contemporary informs us that the fearful instrument con . sists of a lash of leather dipped mglue, and then thickly incrusted with iron-filings and powdered glass. It need hardly be said that death'under this punishment is not unfreq ncnt. Until quite recently the mas ter or mistress of a household used to horse whin the domestic servants on NeAv 1 ears DaA; to remind them of their inferior posi tion The liberation of the serfs does not seem to have completed Russian civiliza tion,

A ROMANTIC MARRIAGE.

A m\eei4.ge occurred in London recently, writes Moncure D. Conway, whichpossessed some romantic features. A few months ago a paragraph in the papers described a melancholy accident which befel a young man while out shooting. Astray shot en tered one of his eyes and extinguished it This gentleman was highly educated and connected, though without fortune, and he was only 23 years of age. He was brought to his lodging-house in London, where he lay suffering. But a wealthy ana handsome y<mn<*'widow, on whose estate he happened to beishooting when the accident occurred, came and took up her abode m the same house in order to nurse him. . Her care was extended through several weeks, but, alas, the other eye sympathized with that which had been put out, and it, too, was extinguished, leaving the youth and scholar hopelessly and totally blind. But the pretty widow was equal to the occasion. She proposed to him—ro arriage. The result was a splendid company alighting at the door of a fashionable church in our neigh borhood ; a beautiful dame of 30, attended by her tsvo little children, leading a blind youth of 23 to the altar,, there to endow him with all her extensive worldly goods ; and the two are now enjoying their honey- DiQgsfcon the fine estate where the gentle miiSaay meditate on the ancient sayings Ayjfflpi declare misfortune and fortune to be near neighbours. . . ■ ■ One may get too much of many good things but not of kissing (says the ".Record"). %It is simple yet excellent. On** experienced writer (we forget who) has given us some capital advice as to the practice of kissing. " Don't" says he" kiss 'all over as grasshoppers walk. Don t kiss everybody, including many little dogs, male an'l' female. Don't sit down to do if Stand up. 'You need not be anxious to get in a crowd. Two: persons are plenty to come* • and catch a lciss- More Persons spoil the sport. Stand firm.* It; won't hurt atp V ou're used to it. Don't be m a hurry. Providence will give you streugta tor the ordeal : Don't jab down on a beautiful mouth as if spearing for trogs. Don't grab and yank the lady as if she were a struggling rolt Don't muss her hair, scrunch her collar bite her cheeks, sq.tiiz.zle her rich ribbons and leave her mussed and rumpled. Take "ood aim—the 1 lips meet, the eyes close, the heart opens, heaven itself opens Sore vou.and-the art of kissingislearat," Thus 4to the initiated. To those whose experience is limited, or to whom kissing is .aialcd book, we have only to say they £& no idea of.the treat, the solid bliss, in Sore for them ; and, for encouragement, let v2S& that the good tune is sure to come.

A LONDON ADVENTURE.

hS an honest traveller is bound to relate all that befals him, illustrative of the man ners and morals of the people among whom he sojourns, even though he himself does not appear to the best advantage in the, narrative, my conscience will not permit me to withhold from my reader the following bit of adventure, through the simplicity ot John Bull, about which I have had some thin" to say, may not be made so apparent by if as the credulity of Jonathan. "It was au attempt on the part ot two sharpers to piny upon me an old London confidence game which gave me my only chance to see John Bull as a rogue. In this character he proved no bungler, but a most consummate actor. Indeed, the circumstance revealed to me more clearly than almost anything else how much we have got to learn of this peoplft, and how i "mellow" and considerate John can be, even in the character of a London highway- For some reason'or other, the confidence men have always taken a shine to me. tVbout the first time I went to New Yorlc, Peter Funk sold me a watch, though I saw what he had done in a few moments after wards, and went into the next .place Avhere watches were being slaughtered, and ad vised the innocent bidder standing about not to purchase, as things- were not what they seemed, and privately shewed some of them my own timekeeper. And in very recent rears, during a half-hours walk on Broadway, I have had at least three long-forgotten acquaintances rush up to me with extended hands and hearty exclamations of surprise and ■delight. But on these occasions I have always been able to command Bret Harte's famous smile, which I have found as effective as a police man's badge. The London confidence man iound me one night at a public place of amusement, and of course knew me at a glance. He was a German (my vizor always goes_ up when I see a German), and a curious spectator of things in and about London, like myself, and expected soon to visit America. I hardly know how we got acquainted. I think some incident in the crowd, as we stood near each other in the area, caused us to exchange glances and remarks. He evidently " took" to me at once. Travellers are quick to know travel ers, and always find themselves in sym pathy ; they are in one boat, while the stay-at-home world is in anothor. We were soon exchanging notes about London and other matters, and after the perfor mance was over, walked out of the theatre together. Vv Te were a good deal jostled by the crowd, but an empty pocket is never afraid of being picked, and the frail creature who did her share of the jostling, and who | declared we looked enough alike to be brothers, played her part well, but to little purpose We did not separate until we had exchanged cards, and my delightful German had made some inquiries about my hotel. He was not suited where he was, and was on the look-out fora chance to im- j prove his quarters, and as he: had an I especial liking for Americans —" they were , so much more like Germans than English ■VPere" —and had many questions to ask | about that country ; he should be delighted ! to stop beneath "the same rouf with mo if the locality suited him,etc.,etc. Accordingly? next day nt twelve M., he j called around". We had lunch together, and j mnch interesting conversation. He proved ! extremely well informed about England and the English, and was highly entertaining, j He had much to say abont a London friend j of his, a banker, who had lived in America, \ and whom I ought to know.. After an hour spent in this way, he proposed a walk, and ] said, if I wished it, he would present me to j his friend. j To this, after some hesitation, I assented, ! and we set out for King's Cross, a part of ; town I had not yet visited. After walking ' about half-an-hour, during which time my j companion beguiled the way with a very ; lively account of a steeple chase he had recently taken part in' through his friend j the banker, at his suggestion we stopped at ' one of the numerous ale houses for some re- j freshment. It was not a very inviting-look- j ing place, and I felt disposed to take our ale j at the bar, American fashion, and pass on ; but my German was not going to be so coolly i matter-of-fact as that, and led the way to | the coffee-room, which, however, we found j locked ; but one of the barmaids handed j him the key, and we went in. It was a ; dingy unused-looking room, with leather cushioned benches around the sides, and j tables in front of them. It struck me that j there was some incongruity in our ! being in such a place. It seemed better j adapted to some secret nocturnal revel \ The two .windows were high, shutting out | all view of the street, and admitting but a scanty light. I sat down on a chair near j the door, feeling a little constrained ; but j my companion passed over to the further j corner of the room and sat down with such : a hearty, masterly air that I followed him, ! and had soon aimed a blow at my lament able reserve in a bumper of ale. While I : was engaged in looking over some admira ble Berlin photographs which my friend ; handed me, he made an excuse to go out. ! Not long thereafter there entered the room j a man who drew my attention by his be- I wildered, excited manner. He took offhis ! hat, mopped his brow with his handker- | chief, and rushing around the room, gave each of the three bell-handles a violent jerk. " The worst part of town I've been in yet," said he, seating himself on my side of ; the room. " Can't even get a little Scotch | whisky 'ere. I went into a place just be- I low 'ere, and, because I very naturally mis took the landlord for the waiter, I was in- J suited. 'Ow should I know ?" said the in- I jured, unsophisticated Englishman. " I saw a man standing there with a hapron on, and says I, ' Waiter, bring me some Scotch whisky and 'ot water,' and he swelled up and said : ' I'm not the waiter ; I'll 'aye you to know I'm not the waiter ; I'm the landlord I' " " ' All the same,' said I. ' I thought you was, and I want some whisky.' "'But you can't 'aye no whisky 'ere.' So I told him to go to the devil and left the room ;" and the ingenuous creature ap pealed to me if it were not a shame and an outrage, and I replied that it most assuredly was. '" I wonder if they know 'ow to trea sti-angers any better 'ere," he said, looking about the room. Just then a waiter appeared and the beloved " 'ot Scotch" was soon before him. He was a fine specimen of - a young Eng lishman, with a round, fresh face, bright eyes, full rosy lips, a beard that had wanted the razor for three or four days, and withal an»expression singularly boyish and ingenu ous. He was well dressed in grey cheviot clothes, and wore the inevitable stovepipe liat- T , , " It's the first time I've been up hi Lon don, and I 'ope it's the last," he continued, " I've had enough of it." Just here the German reappeared, and was presently as interested as I was in the new arrival upon the scene, whom the Scotch whisky was making more and more garrul ous and confidential. With the utmost naivete he went on to complain how queerly he had been treated in London " I did not get through my business till day before yesterday, when I thought before! left town, and as my case in court had come out so well, that I could go out and 'aye a little jollification. Mr So-and so, our lawyer, made me give him most of my money before I went out; but I kept back a few bank notes that he didn't know I 'ad. As I was walking on the Strand, a lady came rushing up to me and said : " «'Ow haer you, Mr Jones?' " Pretty near it," says I. "My name is not Jones', but its Johnson. All the same ; no haim done, Miss," and was going on, when she said: — "Is that the way you leave a lady ? " Leave a lady?" 'said I, a deal surprised at her manner.

" Yes " said she, "leave a lady; that is not the way Mr Jones would do " "Pray how would Mr Jones do ? said I. " Why, he would have taken me in and treated me to a bottle of wine." "Oh if that's all, you shall aye two bottles," said I. " Come on." So we went into a place there, and blow mp if she didn't drink nearly two bottles of wine I was^ amazed ; I never saw a lady drink so, and they charged me outrageously for the wine-a guinea for two bottles Why, our wine at 'ome do'nt cost us half tll Then she asked me to take her to some rooms I forget the name ;it began with In— Harn-vle "Rooms, that's it, and as I did not mind naving a little fun, and not to re fuse a lady, said I, " Come on," and away We«™ntlemeu," said the innocent creature « you are strangers to me, but I trust you 11 never mention what I'm now telling you ; I wouldn't 'aye my sister Mary know it for a hundred pound." We assured him he need have no fear of us and urged Mm to proceed. "While at the Hargyle," resumed he the o-irl (for I am convinced she was not a lady This she refused; said she never paid less than a crown for her gloves ; wouldn't be seen with a pair that cost only 'all a crown ; and, as I did not like to appear mean, I said Come out withme,you shal 'avethe gloves I -aye her a sovereign, and she told me to wait outside while she went m the shop and-ot the gloves. 1 paced up and down mmiM see I 'ad been sold, and went straight back t0 he continued "I got a note changed when I paid for the wine, or I shoufd 'aye giveu her a fivs-poun' note and S°Th* tone and manner which this nar ; rative was delivered were irresistibly mirth provoking, and we laughed immoderately a the poor fellow's greenness. "Here," said ito myself, «is a specimc of ray unsophisticated Englishman of tli very Erst water. He is as fresh as a nej blown rose, and never ought to } let go tj , apron strings of his sister Mary. ../ My German said something about tt , danger.of going about London with mm,. money in one's pocket. l " I'm not afraid," said the verdant, cti ; I always carry my money right here, to , taking out from the breast pocket of his at a loose package of Bank of England nob. I " 'Ow am I going to lose that with my ftt j buttoned so ?" I . | But my friend assured him lie mIM j easily lose it; that he had better havojft j it with his lawyer or Ins banker ; thajhe himself never carried but a few poids , about him, and no prudent traveler rer did, and, on appealing to me, I aclueimy testimony to the same effect doclmg that I seldom left my hotel with as nch . as a five-pound note in ray pocket. "But I'ave enough more," said theom- , placent idiot, "if 1 lose this. You sj ma j and my sister Mary have just come Jo a , little property—about £17,000-that rvhat brought me up to London ; it is fun. pleasant subject, a family quarrel, btfignt is right, and what the law gives onjthat j he may call his own, maynt he?«yeii, j the lav/ has just given me and master ; Mary me father's estate which mfuaer , brother George luul held since mejners : and mothers death1 This is owf ap- , pened: The old family nurse, wft sue : came to die, let it out that mebrothefeorge , was born out of wedlock-that fefore father and mother were married, atfo was not the legal heir to the property, pc old • doctor was referred to his dates welooked up and compared with the parishScords, j and the nurse's story was confirmed oo we : went to law about it, and the easels just been decided in our favour in thdourt ot ; Queen's Bench. It makes bad bU, but I i sball not treat me brother George,He lias treated me and sister Mary. Affe has had time to cool off and think |over, i shall go to 'im and say : ' 'ere, Gfge,you j are me brother, I cannot forget it— ere, take this sum and set yourself up ousi- We both applauted this good solution, and urged him by all means to dy it into j effect. ... ~-, ! " But George did not do justpt witn the property," he went on ; "y?e,e> P art j of it came from uncle WilliamM uncle William in his will provided thMW ot it should be disbursed among theF; not the j Hinglish poor only, but the poet ditterent . nations. This brother George-1 not do. ; But this I shall do without del-and to gut j this £500 well off my bauds, acting to my huncle's will, is now my chief< corn. U ot course I cannot go around long "P the poor, the needy cases, and mf mostly de pend upon others to do it fcfe. * shall spend £100 otit among the ])' of my own town and neighborhood, anfall °P« to meet trustworthy gentleman^ and then whom I can rely upon to dilute a por tion of it among the poor of «n couutires.- I gave £50 of it yesterday gentleman at my 'otel, from Glasgow, Upend among his poor." ' . ... . " A stranger to you ?" sx, with reproof and astonishment in my lo •'< Oh, yes ; but then lie)wed me that he had money of his own / thd not need mine ; that was all I rem^ kirn to do. The German and I e:;dScd gla"ccs as we finished our second alfhen the former said, speaking my own tfeht ';..„, " Well, you'll have litf-rouble m find ing people" to take yof oney <>" m™ terms. 'I, myself, woi^ery gladly be I charitable at some one \ b expense and the late war has made if P ool' people in I my country." I ... ! " Very well," said tlMdmg stranger, . ! " show me that you lis^lOO of your own, ' and I will give you an*' hundred to dis burse among your poop tafe .your re ceipt for it, requiring ]On\j to insert an aavertisement in the ?nes, giving the I names and dates, etc.M? want is to be ! able to show that myP s will has been i complied with, and P I aven t spent ! money that didn't be] to me How the bait tookfVhose benevolence I would not have snapf** l\\ is ? 11\ 1 IUI -man. nature on its tif to let such golden opportunities slip ? f would it not in stantly occur to oneM 1"8 f°?f and }}™ money must part sop that it was the duty of an honest if> see to it that the i money went in to tfoper channels ? "And I, too," saiPot without afeeling ! of shame •asif I #out *° £* m. so™° ! way a party to theory of this simple ! ton, "I, too, will fy0"1: alras tp some of thft pooiUf my coif and see that they are iudiciouslv bof Ll- . "What poor Jyou in your country Sal" Plenty of thl Baid I-"the freed man for instanceM / Bf much of > and who are muchiuP ot ":<£',. f ~ . " All ri"ht " silo- Satisfy me that you have money!^™ 11 ' And do you need mine, and I shall have a hundred P°"l dcarry.n.A-thm,» I replied " andjou willf t0 come around t0 my 10" e Npithpr hafl hundred pounds," my con paSslift I have some, I hardly r«3i,Aw mJand he proceeded to !ake WoutTndl--^ Banic of England noJf', w K-it yon have," said he to M lO w hin| J > him think me, signihcai| y°" n?fS eimJy a little chanSe," I said tt ? h > l hsko guineas in all," and wrthSStiVoduceditinmy open palm, JL oney> gentlemen," said iu i Pfhave no cV ibt you are the verdant! can ea3 . ly both respoif are ' fij . ■ ... gons tQ act ! tlsfie nic fiis matter." as my ao'en|^ 1

" Come to my hotel," said the German, " and I can show you five times the amount or go to my banker, whose place is near here. " Yee," I joined in, " meet us this after noon or this evenig at my hotel, and I will show you that avc are all right." " No, I must leave town to-night; my sister Mary will be expecting me." "Then," suggested the German, let's arrange it now. Where do you need to go," ho inquired of me, " to get the money ?" " To my hotel and to my banker's, both, I said. " "Where is your banker?"* "'On Lombard-street." " Well, that will suit me, too, as I know a banker there, and can get all the money I need." The Englishman would pledge us in an other glass before we started, though I barely tasted my ale, the two glasses I had already imbibed having had a very strange effect upon me. "Here is a sovereign," he said, "to pay for tie cab; this is to accommodate me, and I irsisfc upon paying." The German tookjthe gold, called a cab, anc, we were off, it being agreed that the Englishman should wait there till we re tuned. ' It is the most astonishing performance I ryer heard of," said I. r Can it be possible that such a fool can beat large twenty-four hours in London mhout being robbed ?" i 1 He runs a great risk," said my com panion, "and we had better keep an eye a him till he starts for home, oi else tele saph to Mary to come and look after him." I found my banker, a man who had luov.n me long and intimately in this ountry-, in his private office, and I spread jot my adventure before him in the most iuimated style. I felt it necessary to do fhia because I wanted to ask the loan of £50 for a few hours, but before I had got 30 the point he said ho could let me have ihe money if I did not happen to have it by me ; it was by all means my duty to accept the offer the stranger had made, &c, &c. He called his. partner, a native Londoner, and related the singular circumstance to him ; he opened his eyes very wide, but said little. As I was leaving, my banker said : "You don't suppose this is an attempt to rob you, do you ? "Oh no," said I; "that is out of the question." When I regained the cab, my companion was not there ; I supposed he had not re turned from his banker's yet ; but I pre sently saw him emerging from behind a cab, when it instantly occurred to me that he had been watching my movements. We got in and drove towards my house. Presently a feeling came over me precisely like a bucket of cold water, that here Avas skilfully played game to rob me. But, no, it could" not be ; the thought was too ugly ; so I put it from me ; I was not going to give ! that hundred pounds so easily. But the ' feeling would come back in spite of me, and gradually the scales fell from my eyes. With what a rude shock I came down from the seventh heaven of delight, whither .the drugged ale and benevolent impulse had sent me, to the unpalatable reality ! I sud denly noticed it was raining, and that Lon don looked its disnxalest. I glanced at my companion, and quickly understood a pecu liar look about about the eyes all the day —a .sort of strained, furtive, half-excited j look, .such as one might have when playing j a risky and desperate game. I recalled that I how lie had approached from behind the • cab, aim remembered that I had seen his legs beneath it as I came out of the bar. I recalled, also, with what caution and skill I the Englishman had played his part, and j the mauj little touches he had given it, such j as only a real artist would think of. Well, j said I to myself, this is my simple, pastoral I Britisher, is it ? But how well he knows | his business ! What a master workman, i and how juicy and human ! My companion talked gaily, but evidently j noticed a change in me. When avc reached | the hotel, he invited himself up to my room to .see my quarters, &c. As I aa\is moving j about, under one pretence or another, I j caught his eye in the glass intently watch- ; ing inc. Having taken the bank notes from j my trunk, that 1 had come up for, avc Avent i down. I lingered in the hall long enough ; to tell the porter—a stout, soidierly-looking . fellow —that I wanted his services about an j hour, and that I wished him to take a cab : and follow us, and Avhen avc alighted, to j alight also and enter, but a few moments j later. I was determined to see the play ' out, but I did not Avant to be alone in the . room again Avith those two men. i As we rode along my thoughts were busy. ! What should be done? Did I want to j cause the arrest of these men, and have I myself detained as a witness? I thought I not; that would spoil the farce, it would j not be the least bit of an artistic finish, i I Avas in their toils, but did not want to : break out too rudely. I Avould give them I a good hint, which 1 knew such artists would j appreciate more than a kick ; so, turning I to ray companion, I said : "Do you knoAY, I believe this is a plan I to rob us "

" It can't be, can it ?" he replied, Avitli an alarmed look.

" Yes," said I, " it is ; " that fellow has j accomplices, and he means to get our money. I Do you go armed ?" I continued. " No," said he, " do you ?" " Always ; an American carries a pistol as much as lie carries a jackknife, and he isn't afraid to use it, either." "So I have heard," said the German, looking wistfully out of the carriage. " But you wouldn't shoot a man, would you ?" he inquired. "Let him try to rob me," said I, "and you will see whether I Avill or not." Just then the cab stopped at our destina- tion. As Aye got out. I saAV another cab at about half a square from us. My compan ion made an excuse to step across the street, and I passed into the hall. Our simpleton Avas still there, apparently melloAver thau eA-er over his "'ot Scotch." He asked where my friend Avas, and as he did not im mediately appear, said he would step over and hurry him up. The porter had by this time entered the room, through the bar. He tried to stop him and ordered some ale. He glanced at me significantly as the Eng lishman went out, and I felt pretty sure the play AA ras over. We sipped, our ale and waited, but no one returnel. > I went in and looked, but could see nothing of either of them. In about twenty minutes a large man opened ths door, "and looked in as if he expected to find some one (I knew at a glance that AA'as the " banker " friend of the German, who had come to play his part), and then hastily withdrew. We tarried some time longer, but it became apparent that my too. confiding friends had uncere moniously deserted my, or had gone off and divided a poor fund between them.

The Tyrone Constitution of the 2Sth September, gives a lengthy account of re joicings tit Bally<?awley, in honor of the visit of Mr Vesey Stewart to his native place on his return from New Zealand. Long processions, headed by bands, went out to meet him, and the enthusiastic crowd not content with this, dragged him from his carriage, and carried him on their shoulders to the tqwn. When they reached the Stewart Arms Hotel he was allowed to regain his feet, but only on condition that he should address the crowd. This he did, speaking in glowing terms of his adopted country of New Zealand—of course dwelling especially ' upon the Katikati settle ment. Then with the rector of the village, the Rev. D. G. Smyth,and his brother, Captain Hugh Stewart, the hero of the day was compelled to head the crowd again, and lead them through the principal streets of the town; and finally, at ten o'clock at night, he reached his destination—Martray Castle, the residence of his father. Altogether the account in the Tyrone paper reads like a leaf from one of Lever's novels. The committee of the Dunedin Hospital has appointed four honorary surgeons and one honorary physician to the Hospital.

A TALE OF MORMONDOM.

During the Summer of 186—1 was living in one of the Southern settlements of Utah, and it was there that I heard the following story, which is given as I heard it, except the names of the actors :

We were out haying and were camped on a slough about seven miles from home. After the day's work was done we were all gathered about tke comp-fire trying to keep the mosquitoes off by smoking them, which was done by putting green hay on the fire, thereby creating a dense smoke, which, dis agreeble as it was, was better than the sting of these vicious little fellows.

After being smoked as long as I could stand it, 1 had gone into my shanty and was trying to go to sleep, despite the mosquitoes, which had seen my retreat from the smoke and had followed me, when I heard Mr.B ask the boys if they had ever heard how the last of the Mountain Meadows victims met his fate.

A general negative and a cry of " a story from B-——" showed how anxious they all were to hear it.

At the first mention of Mountain Mead ows I was all attention, for although I was but a child when that fearful tragedy was enacted, I had heard enough of it to fill my soul with horror, and I was determined to hear B.s story in spite of the mosquitoes. So, arranging the blankets so as to be able to catch every word, I listened.

It was in the Fall of 1857 that two brothers, Henry and William Brown, were riding across one of the many deserts that abound between Southern California and Utah, on their way to Salt Lake. It was near the close of a warm day, and the jaded horses seemed anxious to reach camp, and were walking along quite briskly, when the riders caught sight of a human being at some distance ahead of them, evidently coming toward them afoot. " Stop a minute, Will," said the elder of the brothers turning to his companion " I fear we are running into an Indian en campmeut, and we may get into trouble.'' " I think not, Henry," said the other' looking intently at the approaching figure; "If I am not mistaken, that is a white man. and he looks as though he was about used up. but what his he doing here alone and afoot is more than I can understand ; let's ride along and have a talk with him." By this time the man had approaced within a few hundred yards of the travelers, and for the first time caught sight of them, and, turning suddenly abouf, seemed as if he thought of running away from them, but after a moment's" hesitation he turned again, mid coming near them dropped down on his knees, and clasping his hands, said,

" Take my money, but for God's sake spare my life'; there is enough in this sack to make you both rich ; take it, but let mo go, and i promise you that no word of mine shall ever bring harm to you." The brothers had looked on in speechless astonishment while the stranger was thus imploring them, but unable to understand why he addressed them in such a manner.

•'We are not robbers or murderers, as you seem to think us ; my friend," said Henry at last, "but who are you, and how is it that you arc alone and afoot on this desert ?"

"Do you not belong to that band of priestly murderers and cut-throats in Utah, who have just murdered all my companions, men, women, and children, at the Mountain Meadows?" he asked, while the light of hope began to shine in his eye. " We do not belong to any band Of mur derers," said Henry, " but we are travelling from California to our homes in Utah, and so we know nothing of the murdering that you say has been done there ; but tell us your story, and we will decide what is best to be done."

"To be brief," said the stranger, " I waa one of a large company of emigrants on our way from the East to California with our families, and about two weeks ago we camped on the Mountain Meadows, in Southern Utah, to let our stock rest awhile before starting across the deserts. But we, ha 1 hardly got settled when we were at-. tacked by a large force of white men and Indians, but as we were well armed we managed to keep them ofi" for several days. Supposing that their object in assailing us was to get plunder, as our camp was. known to be pretty well oil, we gathered our money together and I was commissioned to watch for an opportunity to leave camp with it unobserved, and make my way to the hills, and keep in hiding while nry friends would surrender and allow themselves to be robbed, when they had no doubt that they would be allowed to continue their journey, and then I was to join them again. An opportunity soon presented itself for me to carry my plan into execution, and under cover of th'J darkness of night I managed to get by our enemies and hide myself in the hills, where I could see all that was done on the meadows. The next day enr company surrendered, and after giving up their arms they were foully murdered while marching along as prisoners. " After seeing the last of my friends thus basely assassinated in cold blood, I deter mined to start on to California and flee if I could not raise a company of men to go with me and avenge the death of my companions, and this is how I came here."

The two listened to this story with such genuine horror depicted on their faces that longer doubted that he had fallen among friends, and after calming himself somewhat he asked what the chances were for him to get through to California afoot. They told him that he could never get through afoot and alone, for if he could stand the fatigue of walking across the many deserts he would fall a prey to some of the roving bauds of ludianswhomfestedthat part of the coun try. " What shall I do then ?" he asked. " To go back will be certain death, for those bloodhounds will suspect that some one has escaped with the money when they fail to find it, for our train was known to be a rich one, and they will be on the lookout for strangers." " You will have to go back with us," said Henry, " and we will ace you safe through to Salt Lake, where you can find friends to stay with until you can go East." The stranger seemed doubtful about being able to get through to Salt Lake, but the brothers were so confident that at last he consented reluctantly to go to Salt Lake with them.

" But, my friends," said he, " if anything happens to me, and I am unable to go on to Salt Lake, remember that this is all yours" —and he pointed to a sack that he carried in his bosom—" it is enough to make you independent for life." They mounted the stranger on one of the horses, while .they took turns riding the other. As they came nearer the scene of the awful tragedy the uervousnes of the stranger increased, and he kept casting furtive glances about, him, as if expecting to see an enemy jump from behind every clump of bushes they passed. One evening they camped in a clump .of bushes in the centre of a clear spot, which was, in turn, surrounded by large brush. At the stran ger's request, Henry consented to stand guard, although William thought it need less, as they had seen no signs of danger. After seeing that his arms Kvere all in good condition and ready for use,. Henry took a position where he could see over the clear ground that intervened between their rest ing-place and the surrounding bushes, and as it was a clear moonlight night, he knew that no one could approach the camp with out his knowledge, After watching several hours he had almost concluded that it -was useless to watch longer, and was thinking whether it would be best to call his brother to take his place, or to go quietly to sleep and say nothing, when his attention was attracted by a motion among the bushes across the clearing, and a moment later a figure emerged on " all fours," and started slowly toward their camp. Henry called out to the intruder, and told him to go back or he would get a load of buckshot in. his carcass, when the figure dropped flat on the ground, and immedi ately disappeared in the shadow of the bushes. Nothing more happened to dis turb thera tU&t wight, and soon after day

i night they were fa the saddle again, and they did not breath© freely until they had put a long distance between them and their camp of the night. After travelling along, for several hours without seeing any sign as danger they were congratulating themselves that they were out of all immediate danger, when, turning a short bend in the road, they found them, selves surrounded by a band of yellow sav ages, who nishefl upon the three men and would have made short work of them had it not been prevented by a white man, Avho seemed to be in command. Riding up close to the prisoners he took a good look at them, and then, turning to the two brothers, he said : " You may go on in peace, but this man must stay' with us," pointing to the stranger. i " Never," said the brothers, "while we I have a breath of life in our bodies. We ; have agreed to see that stranger safe ! through to Salt Lake, and if we cannot do < that we die inthe attempt." I The stranger, who had not said a word, , now came close to Henry and said in a low j tone, " Don't try to resist them ; it will do mo good. Get away and tell the world : what became of me and my companions, ! but take this," and he tried to slip the sack 'of money under Henry's coat unseen _ by their enemy : but the man saw the motion, and said : " That is what we are looking for; just pass that this way." " If that is what you want, take it," said Henry, giving the sack to the man, "but spare'this man's life and let him go on with u=i." " No," said the man, savagely, " this _is what I want, but my friends here want him to pay for some of theii friends that he has helped to send to the happy hunting grounds. Come, get on your horses and be going while I can let you without a row with these fellows." The brothers looked about them, and saw that the Indians were getting tired' of wait ing for ,them, and, as resistance was useless, they turned to their companion to bid him good-by. The poor fellow nearly broke down, but he still urged the brothers tojhurry along, as their staying would do him no good, and wonld only endanger their own lives. Mounting their horses the brothers rode slowly out of the circle of savages surround ing the poor man they had promised to see safe to his friends. They had gone but a short distance when they heard a shriek of despair and a cry of " Oh, my God, have mercy!" Turning in their saddles they saw a sight that froze the bloodin their veins, and which they will never forget to their dying day. There in the centre of'that band of jelling demons, on his hands and knees, with his ■back bristling with arrows, his eyes turned in supplication to the white renegade, was there late companion, the last of the Mountain Meadows victims. With a wild cry of horror the brothers fled from the spot, never looking back un til many miles separated them from the spot where the horrible butchery was en acted. Here B 's story ended and for some time there was silence in the camp, until some or.c asked if the brothers got safely home. "Yes," said B , and they are now living in that little town up there by the foot of the mountains, about ten miles from here, and I hope they will live to help hang the perpetrators of that dreadful tragedy, which has for so many years stained the fair name of Utah."

THE HAIR-BREADTH ESCAPE.

(By Walter Fenton.)

Mr Augustus M'Averilli Smith is a young man who follo-w s the styles in dress with a persistency and precision worthy of reward, and last week he came out to the Conclave picnic in full dress. His Dulci nia, Miss Levill Valeric Brown, was there. She had not seen her beloved Augustus for some time, he having been down to Phila delphia for a week or so. Their meeting was decidedly "gushiug." They met be hind a refreshment staud, and after he had taken the measure of her waist, and strove to lessen its circumference by the pressure of " his strong right arm that was ready to shield and protect her from the cold charity of the world" and other "fellars," and when " upon her ruby,red rose-bud lips, the sweet, soft, silent love caress- lingered," he took oft'his new v< Satina" hat, and her eyes rested upon the smoothly shaven lawn of his lovely bullet head. He jauntily hitched his immense " bags," displaying to advantage a pair of " Congress patent leather low quarters" and elegant maroon and cardinal stripe socks.

"August, who did it?".she said. " Did what, my darling?" he replied. " Did that to your head ?" " Oh, the barber, of course " " Dear Augustus, my heart misgives me." " And why, my love ?". ' ■ You have beeu away to that naughty city !" " Well, and wherefore does that little heart misgive my sweetness ?" " Oh, darling," (and her hands tightened upon his coat sleeve) " tis cruel to deceive me." "Deceive you ? Why, dear one, sooner would I pluck my heart, .that beats for you alone, from my breast than for a moment do so ?" " Then your are innocent ?" " Innocent of what ?" " Oh, Augustus. Do not hide anything from me. I will aid you if you will but escape while you are yet undiscovered. i Oh, my love, how could: you, how could I you ?" I " Look here, dear. Seems to me you j are rather wandering in your mind," he jfiaid, gazing at her blankly. " And, oh, Augustus, you should have ; taken them off and burned them, that not ■ a single shred should be left to rise up to* i convict you." " Miss Brown, you are insane '•You cannot deceive me,, although you have those nice new things on over them. Once seen they arcnevei forgotten. Shake down your pacts'leg, ere to some minion of the law these convict stripes betray you." " Convict stripes!. Woman, are you mad." " He ! he calls me mad, and I that would dis for him. Oh,.'tis hard, 'tis hard, but thus was it ever with: woman's love. Ruth lessly to be trampled upon when adver sity's dark cloud hoveys over affection's object." "Miss Brown will-,. yo« have the kindness to explain what you are talking about ?" " Oh, dear, and still he feigns innocent. Why, I've seen- them before, and they all had striped suits on, and their hair' cut tight of the skull, just like yours. Pa took, me all through the Eastern penitentiary when we were at the Centennial. How did you get out of those grim dark cells, and what were you put. in for ?" " Miss Brown, do you mean to insinuate that lam a convict. Woman, those striped socks are all the style, and my hair is cut according to the summer fashion, and it is called "The hair-breadth escape." "And you have not been in. Oh, my love, forgive me, and lets go get some soda."

A BROKEN-HEARTED BARBER.

Felix Adolphe, a Paris, barber, Avho cnt his throat recently, left behind him this curious letter, which, is nothing if not French: " I loved, hoped, and believed. To-day I doubt, despair, and hate. My heart has been killed ; let my body be %o likewise. I exercise, the only liberty that God has given to man, and that society cannot deprive him of, viz.:■ that of destroy ing himself. I was bom with a taste for literature, and my parents made me a barber. I was ma:ried to a good and handsome Avoman, but jealous fate deprived me of hw\ Accursed be mas, and accursed bo the earth. I deliver my body to the worms, mv hatred to the rafemai spirits, and expire,. ' - ,

THE SINGING SEA SHELL.

When the sea shell is ieldupto th* there is a peculiar vibratory nlVly?6? children assure each other is the Zr of t? sea, however distant they may hr> Z th* Philcsopically investigate^ £***. sound thus recognised is a phanoiPerSfc has puzzled scholars for a lon* t£? & experiment is easily made by olmplf *he ing a spiral shell over the cerebrii of Sf* ear. iJa tergci shell, the sound is** much like that of a far-off cataract wf 7 what causes it?" Every muscle i^the fr is always m a state of tension. Somo y more on the stretch than otheis, ana n tlcularly those of the finger. It is that the vibration of the fibers of S^ the fingers being communicated to ihesJn it propagates and intensifies them astS hollow body of a violin does the vibrattonof its strings, and thus the acoustic nervo receives the sonorous expressions. m~Z\ of the leg below the knee are said tovK in the same way, and if conducted toth! ear produce the same result.

PUTTING THE BABY TO SLEEP.

The young rascal has no more idea of ooirn. to sleep than the man in the moon° H° deftly clutches me by both earrings' •»ad throwing himself upon his feet in a manner calculated to make the most fond mamma' teeth chatter, and seizing my frizzo3 by Wa -! of steadying himself, he firmly grasps my back-comb, which he only relinquishes afe my earnest and repeated solicitations Finding less comfort there than he had reason to expect, he process to explore my eyes, nose, ears and mouth with his chubby forefinger, emphasizing the research by trying his teeth on the aforesaid members Anatomy exhausted, he turns to pastures new. Do not imagine that I hare been au idle recipient of these fond attentions. No! I have been sweetly chanting, trotting and rocking. I have tenderly given " Sweet and low," " Sleep baby dear." I have done the Crooked Man," " Humpty-Dumpty " with variations, "Hickory, Dickory Dock'" etc., and having conscientiously finished " Mother Goose"—not even disdaining such uumusical productions as " Pop goes ttoe Weasel",and "Mother may I go out to swim " in the illusive belief that tney are calculated to stay and fix the wandering eyes and attention of Young America—l proceed to more solemn business, I divest myself of earrings, necktie, and all other snares, and metaphorically,, rolling up my sleeves, I strike into the " Sam tunes." '" oto grace how great a debtor" is a comfort to me., but soporific influence is confined to churches. Baby still .pokes and clutches at my throat. " Hold the Fort" rings out with the heat of combat. Baby evidently intends to do so. Having gone through my repertoire of major tunes with no success, I conclude to resort to heroic treatment. With groanings that cannot be uttered I lay the young man down and firmly clasp him in my arni3. Result—a very exasperated boy rf a year old, who struggles and squalls most lustily. Being a little stronger, I hold on and solemnly chant, '• Hark from the tombs." Five minutes of this innocent di version convinces me that the child must have a pain. Perhaps the little love has the stomach-ache. He throws his little fists about fiercely, and as he reaches for water so sweetly I set him np, feeling that I have been unwarrantably stern and se vere. Still Ido sometimes ■wonder • how a few judiciously administered spanks would sound. Having thus solaced myself, we go at it again—sing, scratch, poke, trot, rock, walk, drink, kiss, scold, pet—eyes prefer naturally wide open, dinner getting cold down stalls. At length, when we are both exhausted and those dear little peepers do close tight, and, snuggling down close to my heart, lie resigns himself to the inevi table, how sweet the cherub is !

ARARIMU.

A CORRESPONDENT thus writes concerning the vale of Ararimu South :—Signs of pro gress are everywhere visible in this retired locality; the farms are gradually smiling "in the tranquillity ef nature beneath the hands of industry. We have some of the finest crops of grass, oats, and potatoes in the province ; bush falling has been carried on vigorously of late ; several good roads have recently been formed, and others are con templated. We have one advantage which is not possessed by settlers, in the neighbouring districts; we are never seriously aiiected by the dry weather. Numbers of new and pleasant-looking houses of English-like appearance have beeu erected, and others are contemplated. A lively scene was witnessed in the early part of this week by the breaking up of the district school, so well- conducted by Mr Cooper. A committee of Hunui settlers have prepared a programme of sports for the 2Sth mat., including racing, jumping, walking, etc, to which the Ararimu settlers are invited. As the population increases we hope to have a district church. The Rev. Thomas Xorrie holds an occasional service in the school-room, and Rev. Dr. Ma cD on aid ministers to our Catholic brethren in the small, but neatly-built Catholic church. We hope yet to have the Star circulated freely amongst xxs, when an agent is appointed for the district, so tkttt we may know how the world wags beyond the limits of Ararimu, And read the news'mid Nature's varied charms For him that Kazes and for him that farms. Correspondent.

The "South Canterbury Times" refer ring to the refusal of Ministers to send the - Hinemoafor Sir Wm. Jervoise says:•—" Sir George Grey and his Ministry are quite ■ right, and will have the sympathy of the people of the Colony with them in this. matter as in everything else. Not the ■ slightest modicum of good, could, re sult from the visit of these Defence Com missioners to New Zealand. We have not the money to provide any system of defence which they might suggest, even if it were desirable; and why, in the name or common sense, we should go to the expense: of conveying Sir William Jervoise and' Colonel Scratchley to our shores passes our comprehension. Were we to. do so, we should be enacting the part of a pauper going to a tailor to obtain a new coat with? out having the-^Therewithal to pay for it;. The following aniusinsr story is told, by " Autolycus*"; in the "Nelson Times" : — "I was moving along the street when an= order to "Move on there," induced me to tun: round and find myself-face to face-with a gigantic constable, ""Did you sp«ak to me, "I said in my loftiest tone. " i did, was the-reply, "but I beg pardon, I. thought I perceived a 'staggei?,'" Then we got into a. conversation, and my new acquain tance-suddenly said, " Now look here, you might do me a good turn, I'm awfully ham up? I'm one of the new men, andhavnt had a chance sLice-I've been iii Nelson— let me ruu you in. If you get off vritn a reprimand it won't hurt you, arid: if you *c lin-ed, why I'll pay.it meeself." • A sym pathetic tear bodimmed my eye as I declined, with thanks-, the tempting oppor tunity thus afforded me of niaking a public appearance free of cost." , At the Resident Magistrate's Court, Grahamstown, on Thursday, a strange p»s take was madte by one of: the two justices. The presiding justice was understood to say that jitdgawSnt was given for plaintin. Counsel for plaintiff1 accordingly applied tor costs, but when they weve made up it trans pired thai the Bench had intended to give judgment for defendant. Both sides nose claim a verdict.

A West Coast paper sorrowfully refers to the fact that for several years past West laud lias not been gladdened with a visit by a member of the Ministry. Our con temporary says if one of the European members cannot be spared, a visit by «» Hon. Roani Naho,the Maori member, vouia be better that no visit at all, in &«fc i thfl would rather prefer Hoani, if he can maKe it convenient to look down- t&eir way. " ■ The Borough Council of Kew Plymoutn propose to raise a loan o$ £25,000 for gas. ■watevsuityly, and ether. uwmcipaj VorKs,

THF, EVENING STAR, MONDAY DECEMBER 24, 18 i 7