STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT

AUCKLAND, SATURDAY, MAY 20, 1882.

An Actor Priest.

'i-« Boston correspondent of the " New York Herald" telegraphs, on the 20th February, as follows:—"The Koiuan Catholic priest, Re"v. George Lcihing, D.D, late of New South Wale°, Australia, and now of Boston, made his debut as an actor, last evening at the Gaiety Tneatre, playing the i6le of the doughty Moor in • •thello. He assumes the name, Sydney Clitford.'as a 'professional cog,' and, pro badly to conceal his identity, claims to he 'attar tragedian from Australia.' Hie personation1 was tame and dreary in the extreme, and he walke-l through the lad act as calmly as though inurderng a wife were a matter scarce worth talking abou'. In justice to tbe reverend. Moor, how ever, il should he said that his homicidal indifference was general, and he stabbed himself'aud knelt to die with the greatest deliberation. MrJ. W. lanerpan scored an -unqualified success as lago, uod was called before the curiam—a compliment that the audience wholly for.ut to pay to Sidney Clifford. The Australian orator will essay the exacting role of Uiche lieu next Thursday. The Catholics of Bo«ton have not yet discovered in 'Sidney Cliflbrd,' their lately feted and petted favourite, Father Leeming. When the dis covery is made surprise will he tinctured witn indignation, snd the truth must leik oat very shortly, for the uctor priest is u-.t yet so cunning in his newly-learned «.t as to be able to readily sink from sight in the personality of C.ifford the in dividuality ef Leeming. Father Leeining Still stands in the arch-diocese of Bostou a a priest in good grace, but just as soon »« bis present course is bronvht to the know ledge of Archbishop Williams, who is located in Boston, JUeuiine will probal.ly be silenced in accordance with tbe dogmas of the Roman Church 5 but since Home has promnlg-ted tbe decree, * once a priest a priest for ever' he will have to stand, if he perseveres in his new field of.labour, as »n actor priest, Rtv, Father Leeming, or Mr Clifford, came to Boston about a bttl- over a year ago, nnd represented that he was collecti-g funds far his church and parish in Australia. He was well armed with proper credentials, which Bishop Williams found to be legitimate, and tht Catholics ot this cry received him with opsn arms. Heprnvcd to be a man of IftU."" Culture, and a university stndenr. and pn>se».«d of rare abilities. Upon ak-nie piattorm he ndmittcl that he ought to bo witb hits little shnrcli in the -^nUpotio*, hut the want of money to establish a large Compelled him to labour in the 1-e ---fi;'d. H e lectured on Robert F.mmett's Life of Mary Stnart. Land Leaguematters i" Ireland, and Sh»k«peare*n studies. -or a lone time he participated in tbe cel-bra x]w-of the Catholic mans in St. Josfph s Church'atthe West nnd, foraetimes acting M Celebrant, at others as deacon and sii'> oeact>_, and sometimes -dlivenng: the «rmon, Being a very brilliant speaker,

inclined to be florid, but forcible for all 'hat, he soon made himself a great favourite. Tne Catholic lycetims tilled his time for nearly a year, and he ha« lectured all throu.h Eastern Massachuscts, in Connecticut, Rhode Island, and some of his friends claim tbat he has lectured before a num ber of Catholic societies in New Ynrk. He is a charitable man, and relieved a family whom he found iv want of means while he Wfti ranvassin. the \Veet End for funds for his church, by gtt'im: up a cnucert in their aid. Ho always advertised himself while lecturing as ' the great Australian actor.' He remained in Boston so long that many of his friends began to Mivpect he was using the money he had been collectiag for his chinch to pay his debts. nther unavonry rumours began to circulatc,and he stopped celebrating tunes, but continued to deliver his lectures in his sacerdotal robes, beads and three cornered hat. of late he had been coquetting be. twpen the amateur dramatic clubs and a small theatrical agency in Mont gomery-place. At last he addressed him sell to the Hub Dramatic Association, an organisation of amateurs, and one of the heßt in the city. He represented to Mr Chceter Burwick, the manager of the ama teurs, that he wanted a strong cast for a friend of his (Mr Lccming'.), who wished to appear in Othello and Richelieu. Mr Lcem ing finally concluded arrangement* with the organisation, and it was fixed that Mr Leeming's fiiend anil the company ot ama teurs should open for a week at Horticultu ral Hall commencing 20th February. At the first rehearsal it became manifest that the priest Looming and the Australian tra ge.li.-m Clifford were one nnd tho same per s.iii. The company did not come up to the standard required by the star, and ho shifted to a professi'-nal one made up from llie books of tho little dramatic agency. He also dropped his time nt Horticultural Hall, and a week ago deposited $300 for the use of the Gaiety Theatre. Iv a conversation with your correspondent, the reverend father claims that he can see no wmng.in the stop he has taken, and snaps his finger at the view the Catholics will take of the matter. In regard to the portion of his week which extends into the Lenten season he says that Catholics may be in a worse place than n theatre during Lent. He a, _s no harm in visiting a theatre during Lent, providing that the play is refined and meritorious. He referred to thepraciice at Ober-*mmcr gau, where the peasants, considered it devo tional to attend the Passion Play, and said their beads »s the players enacted the story of Christ's Passion. He thought the stage the proper place to preach the modern sermon, and considered a well acted play, with a good moral, better than many sermons. He says that the true cause of his leaving Australia was to escape being placed in a convent, where for the rest of his life he would have to touch. He shows one knee set higher than the other, a de formity, lie says, which was caused by being thrown from a horse ani receiving fractures of both bones of the left leg, and, owing to the extrene heat of the australian climate, a compi-t- euro of tlio leg oould not be accomplished; but two years more in the United States, ho claims, will make the leg all righ': after -which he will attend to his parish in Australia. But a resident in l.ceming's neighbourhood at the West End tells a story of a young widow, to whom, it is alleged, the reverend gentleman proposed marriage. The lady is a Bister of a promising actor's wife. Father Lecming, a< he is still known by those who do not know him as Clifford, is about 40 yearß of age, 6 feel 2 inches tall, of massive build, rosy cheeks, clean shaved, and wears his dark hair in waving curls. His features would he handsome bnt for a homely nose, which spoils his profile, and his blue eyes float in a spirituelle m»nner, but in tticir depths ma.y be detected a glimmer of cunning. He was born in Eng land, was educated at Oxford, and was pastor of a church in New South Wales."

The Clock Said his time had Come.

About midnight the other evening the door-bell of one of our physicians rang violently, snd the Doctor, putting his mouth to the speaking-tube, asked what was wanted. " I must see you right away," replied a voice. "But lam sick and not able t-> attend to business." said the Doctor. "No matter." said the voice; " I mustsee you anyway." The physician arose—it was biitcr cold and he was quite ill—donned hi* clothes, and proceeding to the front door, let in, with a strong bl»st of zero air, a man and a woman. Neither looked very much out of health, but the mail's eye rolled rather wildly and he appeared somewhat disturbed. "Well," said the physician, " what is the trouble?" "The troub'e!" replied the man " Trouble enough ! You see, Doctor, we own an old-fashioned clock that has stood on our mantel-pieo. for years. It has not been touched in all that time. Its works ard dusty and its case defaced by time. Would you believe it. Doctor, to-night after we had retired—that is, wife and I—all at oiice that old dock started up ani struck the hour of Twelve. Of course, Doctor, that meant my time had come, or a warn ing that I must soon die. Whatshall I do, Doctor?" and the man moaned and rocked to and fro, while the woman wept to see her husband so affected. The physician said he didn't see how any prescription he c-mld give would put off the fatal hour, but the man insisted, and finally the Doctor gave him a prescription for bromide of potassium, with which the man and wife departed, somowhat consoled.— Portland (Me.) Press.

Animal Instincts.

A lady, daughter of anoighbour of mine, married to a Kussiau, and who travelled with him and resided some timo in Easter- Siberia, told me an anecdote of some swal lows, which she said were building thcr nests under the verandah of their domicile there. One of the nests, when about com pl-tcd, was found on the return of tlio builders to be occupied by_ a spa-row, whom they in vain tried to eject. On finding their efforts fruitless, they smarted oil' to the neighbouring river, from whose banks they acquired their plastic material, and in numbers proceeded at once to fill Up the hole in the nest In the evening, Madame __.- —'a husband, by mounting a ladder. found they had completly filled it up, and he at once, with his .fingers, re-opened the hole so hr to allow .re„thiii'g space to tjie little occupant. Alav.in. the morning, when they" came to b Calif ast; tic, fblind tlj.e i ■ hole re-hiled, and .tbfe'/'_iM'iiisiW 'quite' dead from suffocation

T he Death of Longfellow.

HIS LAST MOMENTS.

The American papers contain long notices of the death of th* poet Longfellow, which occurred on the __th of last mon h. His illness dated f'Oiu the Saturday previous. On that day he spent half an hour in gentle exercise on his piazza, and becoming chilly, went in t<> sit by the fire. But the blood of age waa too slow to shake off the effect of th. cold. That sam* evening at the tea table he cornplninod of having tnkon ill, and an hour later his family physicians wcte called. During the night lie grew worse, and was attacke.i with internal pains, vomiting, and fever, a cute peritonitis bad set in, but the pain was partially subdued by opiates and he secured some sleep. On Monday he was in greater distress, and duri"g tho day his suffering incrons>-d, He bad a restle-s night, and on Tuesday his lungs became affected, the a tack developing into bronchitis before niuht. Tin's was the most distressing day of the sickness, a severe cough greatly wearing upon h s strength. It then became evident that his case was hopeless, and opiates wore freely given to him from that time until the end came. Wednesday also was a day of severe suffering, and the intellect of the poet began to fail. He wax occasionally delirious, hut at night ho tell into a deep s'eop. ' Hi Thursday his disi n-ss was less acute Most of the time he was in a dull stupor, from which he rallied now and then. to say something to those about his bed side. He bore ins suffering throughout with gentle patience. The last day on earth opened with the poet in n more hope ful mood. He was iv less pain, and hud been quiet during the ni.ht. hnt to his doctor's experienced eyes his strength was nearly gone. He soon relapsed into uncon sciousness, from which lie roused at longer and longer intervals. During the forenoon his physicians detected the ominous sound of the deatli rattle, and siiinnioinied the family to the bedside. About two o'clock ho began to sink rapidly, and finally, about an hour later, without re.aining conscious ness or recognising his family, or without a etrug.lo or pain, peacefully passed away. AN AMERICA* CRITKJUE OF LONGFELLOW,

The " AltaCalifornia" made the follow ing reference to the poet's death, anil his Stand ing aa a poet:—Tho death of Henry Long fellow will come to the great body of American readers with a sense of personal bereavement, while the loss of Ameicnn literature is one which is irrepar.-i.le. In refined scholarship Longfellow illus trated the hestpossibilities of New England culture. His poems were as genuine a development of American literature as the tales of Hawthorne, The page* of "Evangeline," "The Courtship of Miles Standi-h," " Hiawatha," »nd many of his short lyrics arc redolent of the odours of our native foro-ts and full of the picturesque beauty of our native country life. 'Iho humanitarian element isstrongiii'evcrytlvng lie wrote. In his youth the slave" trade touched him nearly and inspired some of his most pathetic _tt* ranees. Svcll pOCIIIB as the " Pk-Ii- of Life," "Excelsior" and "Resignation" touch a chord that, vibrates in every human he irt The wide range of his scholarship won for .lis more classical poems the admiration of the lear ned, while the universal sympathy that in spired his simpler verse seemed lo make him the companion of the poor, theiunorant, and even of childhood. His poetry is full of life-lessons, not told in a didactic wav, but with a winning sweetness that impresses them upon the memory nnd a melodious logic that persuades to obedience. * # * * Hi* poems were from the first kindly received by alar.c class of Am..ic»n renders, though the earlier ones were fiercely attacked by Edgar Allan Poc, who said they were conimnnplaccandlackingin originality His prw.o, which had unusual beauties, has not ot late years received much attention. The s'ory of "Hyperion'' created a scn-ation on its lirst appearance. It has a romantic history which has be:n rarely told in the poet's biographies. It won him his second wife. Miss Appleton of Boston, the lady who survives him. AVhen he went to Europe the second time lie had just lost his first wife, and was disconsolate. While abroad he met Miss >ppleton. who belonged to ar. aristocratic Boston family, and lived in a world into which the poet had not yer. en tered. He proll'cred the young lady his hand and was rejected * f ter his return he wrote the book and told the story of his suit in glowing style arid witii exnbcrant fancy. The devotion therein evinced had its effect. The^lady became the trne and sympahetic companion of his. life, and brought him besides an ample dower that gilded all his after existence. The fame of Longfellow may be said to have culminated with "The Golden Legend," a poem perfect in conception and finely executed, though the " Tales of a Wayside Inn" and all his recent short lyrics show exquisite delicacy, and the maturity of his powers. His reputation With scholars will larcely rest on his trans lation of Danes " Divine Comedy," which is among the best English rende-ings of the epicof the renowned Florentine. His popu larity is co-extensive with the use of the English- language.

Funny Sayings.

NOTHING will make a man feel cheaper than to suddenly look up from his morning paper and tell everybody present a bit' piece of news, and then find that his hcnrers pay not the least attention to him, th<>y having read about it in their evening paper of theday hoiorn.—Philadelpkia New,.. a Florida rattlcsn-.kc was recently killed by throwing a glass of whit-ky in its face. Tr-ere is a moral connected with this touch ing incident, but we can't exactl- point it out.— New Haven Register. You know you aro thinking "what a shamcfnl waste of whi*ky!"' but are afraid to say it.— Boston Globe.

" Irresistible." -Small Newspaper Boy (vociferously) : "Daily Tallygraph, one pennee I Daily Ttdli/graph. one pennee!! Daily Tallr/r/raph, ono pennee 11 I Buy a Daily Tallyrjravh, mnm ?" Benevolent old tarty: "How much did you say your papers werc,my boy ?" Small Boy (prompt ly) : " Tuppence I" Gets it, and retires re joicing. —Judy. Presence of mind.-A few Sundays ago a Western Church was discovered to be on fire, but the preacher, with great presence of mind, said nothing about it. He merely, remarked : " Thi« building is heavily bur dened with debt.and I wish s -me one would lock the doors until the amount is raised." Everybody volunteered to do the 10-king. 'and as'everybody forgot to come,back,there '•whs!,'h'6".'panicV and no one was hurt.— Detroit Free Press,

Typical Women.

A FEW months ago the newspapers were full of inst praise and commendation ot Mrs Garti Id's conduct during tho great sor row and trouble through which site so nobly passed. The door of the old home in Men tor was opened, and the nation caught sicht of Grandma Garfield, on whose care worn face the struggle, of life had left their traces, and were permitted to look down the vista of time where she v-as a widow in adverse circumstances. Yet she heroic ally did tho best she could at all times, and as the loving mother and devoted wife of our lamented President were lifted before the eyes of the world, we felt proud of them,-because they are simply types or sanipbs of true American womanhood. Nowhere on earth are women so ieady to see their duty, and resolutely adapt them selves (o rircumstances as in our own be loved land, and to-day there are thousands just as true, noble and devoted women, who a-e faithfully toiling and diligently battling with sorrow, trouble and poverty. Their live-, arc those of perfect heroines, which heaven a'one can justly zcward.

A Guilty Conscience.

Tm: celebrated itinerant preacher, Lorenzo Dow, while travelling one Sunday to the place where lie had an appointment, to preach, in passim.' a house overheard a man, who wasstandimt at the door, bi'terly complaining that he had had an axe stolen the night before by some person. " Come along with mo to the meeting " said the preacher, " and I will find your axe." The man consented, and when they had arrived near the church, Dow stopped and picked tin a pretty large sione, which lie carried with him into the church, and placed it upon the fiont of the pulpit The subject of his sermon was very well fitted to his particular object, and when in the middle of it. lie stopped short, took the stone ill his hand, and raising it in a threatening attitude, said, "Aman in this neighbour hood had au axe stolen last night, and if the person who stole it doesn't tlod.c, 1 will hit him upon the forehead with this stone," at the same timo making a pretended effort to throw it, when a person present was observed to dodge his head quickly, and it need hardly bo added, ho proved to be the guilty person.

What were the Consequences?

A Yoi'N- lady gave her "youngman" a beautifully worked pair of slipue.s, and he acknowledged the present by fending be. his picture encased in a handsome frame. He wrote a note to send with it, and at tho same time replied angrily to an of t-repeated dun for an unpaid suit of clothes. He gave a boy ten cents to deliver the package and notes, giving explicit directions as to the destination of each. It was a boy with ft freckled face, and ho discharged his orrand in a manner that should give him a niche in the Temple of Fame, flic young lady receive;! a note in her adored one's handwriting and flew to her room to devour its contents, She opened the missive with eager fingers, and read, " I am getting tired of your everlasting attentions. The suit is about worn out already. It never amounted to much any way. Please go to thunder I " And the tailor was struck utterly dumb when he opened n parcel and discovered the portrait of his delinquent customer, with a note that said, "When you gazeupon my features, think how much I owe you."

Sheridan as a Debtor

Whilk Sheridan became world-famous a< a politician, orator, arid a man of fashion, his domestic affairs were growing more and more hopelessly embanassed. His /atlier undertook for a short time the m-ina.cment of the theatre, but very soon weari- d of the terrible task and retired, (inly Shvidan himself, thanks to his marvellous powers of fascination, could have possibly fended oil' during so many years the tvei-impending catastrophe. Unpaid actors, servants, tradespe -pie, all yielded to that magic in lluenoe. Fanny Kemble in her " Kccor.-s " give.", from her mother's recollections, a sad picture ot the state of the employes of the theatre —how on Saturday mornings, when salaries had not been paid for some time, the workpeople would assail Sheridan on the way to the treasury with, " For Cod's sake, Mr Sheridan, fiay us our (salaries." "For heaven's sake, Mi Shoiid'ii, let, us have something this week," '• CcrUinly, certainly, mv good people-," he would reply, " you shall be attended to directly." Then he would go into the treasury, sweep it cl-an of the whole week's receipt* (the salaries of the principal actors, whom he dared not offend, or could not dispense with, being, if not wholly, partially paid), and going out of the building another way, leave the poor people, who h .d c.icd to him for their arrears of \vagcs,baflled and cheat ed of their labour for another week. Yet a day or two afterward he had but to appear among them with a smile, a few kindly word-, and promises,and they were as eager to i-erve him as evtr. Bunn in ihe " Stage," tells the following capital story in illustration of his powers ol softening a creditor. Sheridan's coal merchant, one Robert Mitchell, had a heavy demand against him for coals, which lie could no get settled. One day, having lo*t all pa ienee, he attacked the great manager mercilessly, and swore he would not leave the house without the whole of his money, which amounted to several hundred pounds. Sheridan had not so many shillings in his possession at the lime. "It's very true, . my dear Bob, all that you say," replied ■ Sheridan ; "I'm really very sorry, but I say, Bob.you don't want it all to-day, hey? won't a part do _ " No, sir," retorted the enraged creditor, "it won't. I must bftVO it, I will have it; I daren't «o home with out every farthing of it. My wife is dis tracted, my house is beset wi'h creditors, and by , 1 won't leave this room with out the mon.-y.!' "Wouldn't half do to day ?" pleaded the manager, "and a bill for the remainder." No, the coal merchant would havo hisb..r.d to ihe utmost fan tiing. Then Sheridan paused, and in a voice of. deep emotion exclaimed : " Then would to heaven I could assist you I I cannot; but' {diviner a band in his pocket), "one thing I can, I wili, I ought to do—tber"," grasping Mitchell's hand, "never let it lie said that while Sheridan had a guinea in his pocket, he refused it to his friend, Bob Mitchell." Mitchell sto d aghast for a moment, then, pocketing the guinea, rushed out of the house, and to the Latest hour,of his life he. ueverjired of displaying the.,.,.Jns ] i-guinea, j that'hls friend Sheridan had in the world.— Temple Bar.

SELECTED POETRY.

A DREAM OF SWEET MUSIC

I dreamt a dream of sweet music. Thai stole, Like a charm on my list'iiing ear— Like a siren's spell From the depths of hell, That wot'keth sorrow and fear. Of music thai ravished my tranced soul With touiidsof a sad sweet pain— A hymn of the damned to the muster ghoul, Of praise nnd of prayor in vain, 0 dole I -lisery and dole! For whoever gave way to its mystical sway, Hud perished his priceless soul I

I listened—l could but listen— And felt Impelled by tho subtle strain Oi the unseen choir, With a thrill of fire, To join in the wild refrain Of glory aud praise. But the singers knelt At the tnrono of the Hvil One. And I ride, and ltemoise. mid Envy dwelt In the hearts of sire and son. 0 dole I Misery and dole I For pleasure and gain both fleeting and vain, liach pledged his eternal soul !

I dreamt a dream of sweet music, That came And palsjed theiivingthought; In vain strove the will— The mind grew si ill, And memory seemed a blot. But I knew in my weird delight and shamo 'Twould banish for evermore Th. knowledge of Christ, ol- His snored name. Who Deatli for on:' foul's sake bore. 0 dole I Misery and dole! 'Twist Heaven and 11 ell for a spuec to dwell In strife for my priceless soul I

And in my dream of sweet music I seemed To d.ifl with a horrid dread Near the tempter's ti.ruuc, For the earth had flown. And 1 ranked with the helpless dead Tlio Ulilld was dumb, bin ,: moment gleamed A thought, my soul to free, Of a Saviour's '.-yo Mat with mercy beamed; But He. OH I Who was Hk? 0 dole I Misery and dole I Forgetting the God in the heavens above Who ransomed my precious soul.

Hut in my di-eum of sweet music 1 saw Through the breaking mist a raj-, -Mid It glOiiOU. Millie To mem'ry came, l.iko the light of the dawning day. I cried with a voice full of tear and awe— " God, save my yield! »g soul I " Tho strains arc hushed, and th. shades with draw; I am fi-eo from the Head's control. But dole, Misery and dole! To him who shall list to the tflmptcr. voice Neglecting Ills priceless soul!

Oh Youth, beware of sweet music: it comes In the voice or lip friend yo low, 111 lllUgla .essound ~ .A5 ' \\°. w,ue K°C3 round ; Uitt of all its notes, abovo Fame's lurfiijt voice or the roll of drums, OrlovuH tl.slusivoßoiijji, Is the chime ot gold, for its music minibs The heart. io a thousand wrongs. 0 dole. Misery nnd dole I In li- terrible thirst of lucre accurst. Man barters his priceless Bonl I DUOALD MaCB-DV

A QUARREL OF YOUNG MARRIED FOOLS.

No I will not nay good-by— Not good-by, nor aujUiiisg ; lie is gono. J wonder why Lilacs are not sweet thU spring. How- that tiresome bird will slug! I might follow him and sin- Just that h« forgot to kiss Baby, when ho went away. Everything 1 want! misa. Oh, a precious world is I ).i_! What if night came end not be / Something might mislead his f. ct Docs the moon rise late I .Ui me I There are things that ho might meet. Now _<c rain begins lo beat: .So it wil- be. dark. Tho 1.-n ?_ Some ono soino ono loves is dead. Were it ho 1 1 cannot toll Half tho fretful words I said Half tho fretful tears f died. Head . And but to think of death !- Men might bring him through the gale: ]-!>• that havo not any breath, Kyis that stare Aiul 1 must wait I Is it time, or is it late I I was wrong, and wr ng, and wrong: I will tell aim, oh, be suro I If the heavens are builded strong, Love shall therein be secure ; Love Ilko mine -hull t_*i_ endure. Listen listen-that is hoi I'll not speak to bim, 1 say. If he choose to say to me. " I was all to blame to-day j Sweet, forgive mo," why—l may I MrsS. M. B. Pialt in "Philadelphia Times."

AT LAST.

When on my day of life the night is falling And,in the winds from unsunned spaces blown. I hear —.ir voices out. ol' darkness culling -ty feet to paths unknown. Thou who brut mndo my homo ot lifeeo pleasant heave not its tenant when its walls decay 0 Love divine, O Helper ever-present, ' Be thou my strength and stay I lie near me when all else is from mo drift'nc Earth, sky, home's pictures, days of shade and slime, And kindly faces to my own uplifting The love which answers mine. 1 have but Thee, O Father I Let thy spirit lie with 1110 then to comfort ami uphold ■ No gate of pearl, no branch of ~alm, I merit. Nor street of shining go.d. Suffice i- if-my good and ill unreckonrd And both forgiven through Tin- abounding grace— ™ 1 find myself by hands familiar beckoned unto my fitting place. Soino humble door among Thy many mnn.ion. some sheltering shade when sin and striving And flow .for cvcrTOu.ugh heaven's green ex pansions, Tho river of Thy peace. There, from the music round about mo stealing. 1 fam would learn the new and holy koiii? And find, at last, beneath Thy trees of healing- Tho lite tor which I long, John Grkeni.iv.f WftiTTIKR. ' _.

"Grammar class, stan-< up and recite. Tom, paise gills." Pupil—" Girl is a par ticular noun, of a lovely gender, lively person, and doable number, kissing n)00d, in the nnniedi-to tense, and in the ex pectation case to matrimony according to general rule." '' An eloquent orator proposes tO "KlUSpa *>' ray of light f loin the great orb of day, spin it into threads i f gold,, and with them to >'.' weave a sli-i-nd in whicli to wrap the whirl- t wind winch, dies: upon the bosom" of the;-.: siiies. We fear the machinery will break before the fabric is through the loom.



TMcIVOU, Upholsterer and Undertaker, S2, » City Mark.it. Cnnchc.nnrt Chairs to ord.'r. GP. BR-MB-ECOMBE, Queen's Hotel, « Byrconds-street and Kyber Pass R GEORGE (late 0. Wood), Butcher, rarnell, • supplies best quality Meat at LOWES. prices. YOUNG. Family Grocer. Shortland-atreet, • Auckland. BEST Place for knnccs, uvou^ouivoj, and Blacksmith's Work.-X. NICHOLLS, 32(1, Unner Queen-street QYMONDS STREET MEAT DEPOT. ENOCH WOOD, Family Butchkr. Meat delivered at Mount Albert, Kpsom, Mount Eden, Carlton Grove, Lower Symond, Street, Newton, nnd E.lon Terrace. First-class quality : roasonablo pricoa. Cash customers liberally treated. IK-FKCTION INVITKD. A FEW USEFUL HINTS BUGG-STED BY THK NEW ZEALAND INSURANCE COMPANY. How To Pkevknt Fires: " Keep m»tchcs in m-tal boxo=, and out of tho reach of children. Wax matches are especially dangerous, and should no kept out of tho w»y ot rats and mice, and never thrown on tho floor alight. Bryant nnd May.), B-.1l and Black's, or Letchford's SAFETY MATCHES—to strike on the box —«ro the best '•Fill kci-oscno lamps only dnr ng daylight, and never near a lire. Never buy the cheapest oil. get the best. " Deposit no ashes in wooden boxes or barrels but in n non-combustible repository, removed a safe distanrc from wood-work. Place no ashes or light under a staircase. Be specially careful with tho ashes from Waikato Coal. "Never pllo up parti-.lly burnt wool "gainst tbe chimney; scores of houses have been burned in this way in New Zealan >. Never put fli_ -wood inside tho fender or on the stove to dry. "Never examine a gas-mct*>r or gas-pipo by artificial light. Never take n light into a room full of escaped gas. " Avoid placing a light near curtains or dra pery ; or taking a light into a closet. ". Do not read or smoke in bod at night. "Place shades over gas-lights in shop win dows, and keep good 3a" s-fo distance therefrom. ' Permit no smoking in warehouses.especially where goods are packed or flax is-stored. '■ Stove-pipes should be nine inches or more from wood; enclosed In non-c-unbustiblo sub- Btanoo, and carried four feot abovo the roof. •' Hatchways and other openings in the floors Of -tores factories and warehouses, should be always closed at night. Closo iron doors be tween floors when not reqaired to be open for business Have a few buckets alw.ys filled with water,. available in case of ao idents. Stores should have an iron tank of water, always filled, on each fl «or. "Buildings in, which co'tra mi«t«. rniys. oc oil are used for cleaning iirirt oiling mnchinory should have an iron b-.x to h 1.1 the came as these substances are liable to spontaneous igni tion. and. if neglected, n.-iy - tun tutu an element of very serious danger. "Have your chimneys regularly swept, at fixed intervals; at le.tst onoe in three months." Useful as these precautions may be, your greatest safeguard is to INSURE AGAINST FIRE IN SUE TUBVV 7EALAND TNSURANCE /H>. QUEEN-STREET. AUCKLAND, THE AUCKLAND GAP COMPANY, Limited, purveyors of light, heat, & power. Gas fittings, Gas Apparatus, and G_B Engines In Stook. FORT-STREET. AUCKLAND.