STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT.

AUCKLAND, N,Z., MARCH 3, 1883

THE HOUSE OF White Shadows.

By B. L. FARJBON.

Owing to an accident Jn the transmission

of the author's manuscript, the continuation

of this serial is omitted from the present

iisuc, but we hope to be able to resume il

NEXT WEEK

Collins, the Poet.

(Br John Blackman),

Tan cld'siCiil poems of William Collins occupy but a small space on on/ book shelves, lie wrote, however, much more than his modest nature permitted him to give to tha world, and possibly had other poets imitatod his example the public would have becu equally well satisfied. The r.al beauties and rhymed thought) of almost every poet might bo compressed into very convenient pocket volume*. Collins, iii his clear, sane moments, carefully pruned his effusions, anil selected with scrupulous care those of his verse*! which he doomed worthy of perpetuity, and of this chaste cluster we would not lose ono spark ling gem. The pretty, green covered brochure, with Its mellow sentiments and flute-like melodies, lives in our hearts, a blessed, dew-wreathed memory of other yenr3; its polished strains oomo to us, in their russet sweetness, like southorn breozes over harvest ficldi, or the pipings of mituran among yellowing leaves and rust ling c >m. The genius of this unhappy poet wa» of a superior order, and which enabled him lo express bin thoughts both in lyric and ode wilh equal clearness and perspicuity and there can be no doubt as to his posses sing the capability for every form of poe.ic expression. '1 here is a rich, eventide pen siveno-s, peculiar to Collius'a mnse, perrad* ing hU pages—an nn'erlyias; sidaess—not infrequently associated "with the poetic temperament, and this v not a' singular feature of tho reflective student of nature. The prominent foremost poems in all lan guages aro mostly expaiituental ema mtions of human suffering; the world Is' full of pining hearts and disappointments, of un realized dreams and wea'ing griefs ; the sousitive bereaved soul finds in solitude a serene consolation in literary musings ; its noblest plaints are steeped in tears. Pos sessed of a fine ear, sensativoly alive to the penaive influences of nature in her waning and twilight phases, Colling had tho rare power of'charming the faucy by th« coloured flow of his correct numbers, and of moving his readers by the mellow tone and grace ful force of his exquisite pathos. In view ing the life and writings of this genial min atrel, we cannot but regrot that his com paratively short career should have been marred by bodily and mental nfllictions, and so much in opposition to tho calm, beautiful order of his ornate and fanciful productions. (Vlinß wa3 tho son of a hatter. He was born in 1720, in the pretlilj-sltnntsdcity of Chichcster, He was liberally educated at Winchester and Oxford, and appwrwl to be a youth of much promise, until his mind bee, ime somawhat enervated through a serious attack of illnfs-—consequent, it wm surmised, on a disappointmtnt in lqvo. The poet in early life was devotedfly aitauhitd to a young hdy of his own ago, whose refusal of his proffered hand msy have had a deteriorating effect upon his nerves. She was born a day before him, hence, ii his gayer moments, he 7/»u'd ex claim, "I am a day behind tho fair !" C >I lim never really recovered from his early disappointment, and, iostead of following the advice of his friends, hs, in the sarpriie of hia family, cast aside his pecuniary pros pects, and foolishly proceeded to London as a literary adventurer. ThU injudicious step, in direct opposition to friendly advice, offended his fathor, who di«card«d him, and refused to snpply him with the means of living. Collins in London is a pitiable pictu-e to contemplate. He was unsettled, lounging here and there, sometimes crouched up in a bye-tavern, half-starved and miserable, or wandering companionle3i and comfortless through the cold, stony streets of England's metropolis. Hard indeed would h»ve been tho dostiny of this injudicious recluse but for Thom son, the poet, and oae gentlo sister, who minUtered to his want?, visitod him in bis lodgings, and soothed his perturbed mind. Seme of the mo3t beautiful triumphs of poetry, science, and ait have bean achieved In the depths of hum in suffering and soli tude, It haj always been so; it is one of the solemo" mysteries of life, and appiren'ly insepirab'e from the worh;p of the Beauti ful. Collins, it is presumed, while in this twilight condition wrote those delightful odes which como like the breath of divine inspiration over the mind of tin reader, such as hia odes to "Music" and the "Passions." The latter oddwa«-written for music, but, unfa, tunatcly, tho'iin'sfeilful composer failed in liis attempt •te'wedUo appropriate music the piet's wbnder'fciKcon ceptfons. Iv this; reipect; therefore1 Collins was not so fortunate us Harm and Moore subsequently were;with their '.aaagaiij we mu*t admit, however, the greater diffiijiilty in connexion with the irregular ode Gf-Col lins, widely different in its character' from that of a simple lova song. In.the univer sally admirod "OJc to the.Passions," T?ear, An»er, Despair, Hope, Ktvenge, Pity, Jealousy, Love, Melancholy, Cheer fulness and Joy successively play upon tho genial harp, and elicit naturally concurrent strains—doleful, psusionite, or joyous—iv answering harmonies. The O.iental Eelogue3 of Collin* have not won that peculiar and wide-spread favour which greeted hi* less ambitious efforts, although, occisionally, they are richly d iwered with the sunset grace 3 of his luxuriant muse. Among the shadowy vicissitudes of London; life, by tho dark, flowing river, and beneath' the cold stars, whec accumulated wealth and towerin? splendoii' mock the eager eyes of tho most forlor.i and wretched of the human race Collins, r,ft well-nigh spont and psnmleis, thought on tho sea-side valley of his birth, and fie pleasan' river-th* Arun— winding through fresh meadow, and encircling his nativo city. In such circumstancs he wro'c his " Ode to Pity " in which he re membered hU more unhappy countryman, Thomas Otwav, and painted those rustic scenes so familiar to his youth. No person, probably at th's period, stood more in need of practical sympathy than the poat him self. Ho had, moreover, become enfeebled in his constitution by constant narvousnoss, being freauenkly in want of cimn.on necosaaries". Still there _is a plaintive sweetness in his retrospective Torses :— "Bat therefore need I wander wide To old Ily.MUs' distant side, De3ortcd stream and muto 1 Wild Arnn, too. hag hoard thy strains, And Echo ! midst my nativo plains. Been soothed by Pity's lute. " There first tho wron thy myrtles shed, On Rontlo Otway's infant head, To him thy cell was shewn : And while ho sung the female heart, With youth's soft notes, unspoiled by art, Thy turtlos mixed thoir own." When passing some years ago through this part of Smsex, in the locilitic** of the River Arnn, and knowing the melancholy life stories of Utway aad Collins, we gazed upon tho little flower-edged river with peculiar iuterest. This placid river seemed to reflect the story of their mhfortune3 and the durability of thoir writing-'. la his ode to tho memory of Colonel Ros3, Collins touches upon native scenes, "Hartlng's Cittaged Vale," and in liiß " Ole to Simplicity." full of gold droppings, worthy of the Attic muse, he speak < of nature's charms where amid " blooms and and mngled murmurs" and "Spring's earliest noto3" he was " By Nature taught To breathe her genuine thought." Collin3, like all true poets was a student of Shafesp.ire, ft 3 his " (Hie to Fear," " Dirgd in Cymbeline," and "Epistle to Sir Ttnmas Hanmer," conclusively proves.

We can hardly bring oiwaeives to believe that Collins hsd any faith ff'tha visitations ot ghosts and nobllns, even though he several times alhjdes to seasons

" AVhen ghosts, a9 coMae* niaKta helieve, Their pebbled beds permitted leave."

Be only intimates that " cottage maids " not poets, believe in them, hence ttfioeo tabled innocents but served his fancy, and the purpose of hi* views. The "Ode t* Evening" an unrhymed lyric, is of the true type, sweet, soft, and shadowY, in its natural hues, and mußical in its sunsetca euces ;it his the light and cloud about it, with thu constant murmur of a mo sy, woooMand wateitall ; is seemly as a village qfeen, edged by poplars, aud dotted by sheep. When a poet becomes truly poetical, forgetful of self, with hia heart in his subject, he is apt to pass the conventional forms of nrt, and to hreak forth into a new style, and thus sang Collins iv hU " Evening Ode." Other poets Milton and Cowper, hava breathed sweut thoughts lo evening, but neither of these poets have set the evening t> sweeter and more suitable music tbau did poor Collius. Hypercritical scribes, prejudiced, or iv isruorancp, severely censured tho style of Coilins's oio, which was successfully imitated by Henry Kirk White and although such criticiiin affected Collins for a time, the tempest passed away, and thousands of readers who regarded baauty of thought independently of rhyme read and admired his oda to 11 Evening."

Some of Collins's siniwris in their pictur ings will bear comparison with tho rural colourings of Gray, although, from cortain causes-not defects—they CAiiuot Kerne so popular amoiij tho common people. The poem exhibits the poet's love for the scenes of his youth, whieu is perceptible in the majority of his editions. The " wild and heathy scene " and the ruin '_' midst it* dreaiy cells " aro within view of Chichestdr, and undoubtedly were familiar to the poet's eye and associated with his earlier and later wanderings. Whilst Collins was writing for a crust in the shadows of metropolitan life, sinking into penury and physical degradation, sup ported morally by ihc pure spirit of poetry within him, despairing even of temporary success, his Uncle Martin died, and ba queathed to the poet a legacy of two thousand pounds. This opportune sura of money enabled him to pay his several debts, and banished from his inept il gaze the dreary piospect of a prison cell. He immediately quitted London, aud went ova tour through somo parts of France, aud returned in a state of mental derangement. Ho was placed in a private lunatic asylum whore he was visited by Dr Samuel Johnson, who had known the p>et some time previously. Collins soon so far recovered as fobs declared harmle s. John son tbus refer* to the mout.il condition of his friend. "There was nothing of dis order discernable in his mind by any but himself, but he had withdrawn from study, and travelled with no othor book than an KnslUk Testameat. such as children carry to school." " I have but ono book" said Colling "butthotis thebeit." Till* saying haa been pictured by the genius of John Flax jian in his memorial statue of the poet in the Cathedral of Chichester, and is looked up to with a kini of homage, Sunday after Sunday, by the citizens, and occasionally by literary pilgrims from rem-ta parts of ttie world.

Many and pleasant were the summer days spent by O dlins at Thonwou'a villa in Kew Lane, and these brief sunny tl'its were pro ductivc of cheering results. Thomson wa< a generous, kindly-dispo e4 man, keenly alive to the peculiar merits and mont*l infinnitios of his friend. Thomson and C«llin» enjoyed many strolls together in the polishsd glades of Richmond and Kew, nnd avar tho hill and under the alms. They were pleased to look down upon PopV« wiUow-circled, Thames-side home, and " Harrington's re treat," where John 'iay wroto hii well known fables. Tho shady paths from Ham- Commond to East Sheen, an 4 from Mort lako to Kew, were frequently trodden by these poet friends. Thuuuon had a protty garden and summer-housa, »nd, though not an epicure, he certainly loved pood eatinu and drinking; while his pootic frioud did ample justice to the dtinty fruits of Thom son's ga'den. It is pleasant t« chronicle such rare aud brief poetic friendships. The doath of the author of the "(Seasons" made a doep impression upon the mind of Collins, and shortly after this event he made an excursion, by water f»r tho purple of seeing Thomson's grava in ttichmoud old church-yard. So atFceiod was Collins by the feeling of sadness that stolo over him, that he penned hia beautiful and lasting tribute to his friend's memory, Thia. characteristic elegy is tet in the midst of rural scenery, and is admirably adapted, both in tone and style, to convoy a jml idea of " meek nature's child," aid, true it is — Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore, Whoro Thames in summor wreathes is drest; And ott suspend tho dashing oar To bid his gentlo spirit rost. Am ing tbe numerous odes of Collins i 8 ona written in 1746 which hus oftm b.ieu quoted for its pathoi and beauty, and which bears all the fanciful exubarunce of tha author's fancy. Although soveral times parodied, this beautiful odo has never, in the same compass, been equalled — How sleep tlio brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wislios blest. When 3pring with dowy lingers cold, Itoturns to deck their hallowed mould. She thon shall dre93 a sweeter sod, Thau Fancy's feet havo evor trod. By fairy hand 3 their knoll is runs, By forms unseen their dirgo is sung; Thoro honour comes a pilgrim grey, To bless the turf that wraps their clay, And Freedom shall awhile ropair, To dwell a weeping hermit there 1 Tho ode oni the poetical characior further illustrates the happy and fertile genius of Collins ; it is rich, even respondent, in the roseate charms of the imaginative f loulty. We find, moreover, in this poem, that he he was' well acquainted with Spencer's " Fairy Queen," and the -vri'ingi of the early English poets. Beautifully hus he pourtrayed Pancy.or Poesy, with tho graces: And all tho bright uncounted poworg Who feed on Heaven's ambrosial bowers. The allusions to Milton and Waller arc truthful. Milton was fond of woodland sconery, as his "Ooinus" show*, and Waller loved to walk among the myrtles of Boacontfield, and the oaks of Pcnshursf, the Kentish home of the Sidneys. , In| endeavonrinc; faintly to depict the genius and character of Collins, we would glance at his "Dirgefrom Cymbelinc," one of his most complete lyrics, suggested to his mind by Shakespere's pass iga relating to Fidelo's grave— —Wlflh. fairest flowers*. While Summor lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweoten thy sad gravo. The dirge of Collins is delightful in Its (loral simplicity, who that his a ta*-to for tho pure in natnre, and the lovely in art, cau refuse an ear to tho'O tender, softly murmuring strains. Even Shakspere would have been pleased his largo humaa heart would have beat ia music il harmony with its euphonious sentiments — To fair Fidele's grassy tomb Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each ononing sweet of •orliest bloom, And rifle all tho breathing spring. No wailing ghost shall djwe appear To vex with shrieks hia quiet grora ; But shepherd lads assemble hero ; And melting virgins own their love. No withered witch shall hove bo seen; No goblins lead their nightly prow ; Tho female- fays shall haunt tho green, And dress thy gravo with pearly dew! The redbreast oft, at evening hours, Shall kindly lend his little aid, With hoary moss, and gathered flowers. To deck tho ground, whoro thou art laid. When howling winds and boating rain In torapost shako tho sylvan cell. Or 'midst tho chase, on every plain, Tho tender thought on Hioe shall dwell. Each lonely sceno shall thco restore; For theo tho tear bo duly shod. Beloved, till life conld charm no more ; And mourned, till Pity's self bo dead.

One of the more ambitious High's of the muse of Collins in hi* unfinished " Ode on the Popular Snperstitiona of Scotland"—a subject in full harmony with his weird, ghost-loving imagination. This poem, like other of the Poet's projections, in conse quence of ill-health or want of perseverance, reimins a fragment. It was dedicated to John Howe, the celebrated and persecuted author of Douglas," one of the finest tragedies in the language, not unworthy of Shakspere. Howe visited CJiichester, and was introduced by a Mr Bariow to the poet Collins, Tb.is Ode exhibits tho more forci

ble traits of the poct'i getiuis, and was lauded by Sir Walter"Soott, and even by the praise-sparing Lotd Byron. The last years of 0olli«* wore passed by Levant's side iv big native city, chiefly under the care of Ills affso-tionate sister. As he neared the end of hU earthly pilgrimage, and mental shadows darkened about him, die beoame more and more resigned to Uis destiny : he bore his attictions with pass ive serenity and Christian patience. The few incidents ot his outer life, necessarily few, aro given by hia friend Dr Johnson, who informs us that " Collins was a weak man, a literary adventurer, with many pro jects in hia head, and few pounds iv his pocket." This, oj course, refers to the poet's London life, which must not bo taken aa a. criterion of hts whole character. " A man doubtful of his dinner, or trembling as a creditor, is not much disposed to abstract meditation or remote enquiries, remarks Johnson truly. The moralist, at last, however repugnant to bis critical inclination, rises into something like justice to the merits oE hia dead friend, and tolls us that Collins was a classical scholar, acquainted not only with tho learned tongues, but with tho Italian, French and Spanish languages. He employed his mind chiefly upon work? of fiction, and subjects of fancy; atnl by indulging in soaio peculiar habits of thought, was eminently dollnhtoil with thoso flights of imagination which pass thu baunds of nature, and to which the mind is reconciled oulv by a passive acquiescence in pipular traditiooa. He lovei fioiics, genii, giants, and monster* : he delighted to rove through the in auders of enchant ment, to gaze ou the magnificence of golden palaces, to repose by the waterfalls of Kly, sian oardcus." Colnns, after much sutfering, died in 1756, in the arms of his pious »i.tt;r. Tims passed from the pleasant scene* of bis child hood, the gifted poet whose classic strains, like his native Arun, flow peaceably on through the ages, clothing bh gentle mem ory with tho radiant hues of perennial love liness.

OUR LONDON FLANEUR.

Social, Theatrical, Literary, and

M usical Gossip,

Tun Knd of 1882 in Londox—Ooin-o to the PAXTOMINU-TOT.U. BIIRAKDOW.V AT DRDRV Lan-kon- Boxiso Niaira—A Cor.oss.\t, Panto mink—ghand i'ltockhsion oftuk kings and Queens oi** England-Tiik Patriotic Soxo, '• Shoulder to Suouldkr "—Mrs Laiiou oiiehk and Mns Lanotry—A Dinner with Henry M. Staslkv, the Kxplohrr—How this IA-NniiunsT liirx, KOlininnixo " MAR riagk with a dkckaseu wlkk's slstkk" camk to 1!k I'assrd—the liukk ok bkau fokt's Cabk—" We Gut our Brkad from L.VDV Cr.ARA JONKS "— MISS IvATK VaUGIUX in "Valentine and Orson "—Revival uf " OiSTK " ATTHi: HaYMARKICT—KKW BOOKS—

Nk\vhl'Al'l"k Clnssir.

I.OHDON, .January 12, Damp, dismal, dep'cssiog, dyspeptic, drizzling, doleful, tlUtrcKUng, dir-y, deadly, and another wonl commencing with a " d " and ending with " iible v tho la-t week of 1882 in England, wus, (if 1 nny venture to quote such a ribald organ na the " Referee") enough to mako n msn knock down hi* wife "with a plum-pudding, and then go aiii hint; himself ou ih» top branch of his children's Christinas taeo." Still, wo mo»t of us did our Ke.nou»blo dufy, and worn merry -awfully, fearfully, painfully, but ft llnp'oariou'ly—uwrr^ Thcromombranco of tlis writers' own piutioaUr holiday festi vities haunts him constantly, in fact there arc sad doubts whoiluw hu internal oconeniy will ever nltogeihor recover the Christina* Day dinner. Not lh»k tho old man was guilty of gluttony. Oh I dear no. Turtle »oup and mince pies, yooio and tipsy cake, truftled turkey and plnm pudding, caavnss back duck and t'ille, ehumpague aud tpiced heor, and poit and whisky, form, with a few other cqiully palatable mixture?, a simple meal which no well regulated digestion, eliould rub 1 at. My own ex periences were probvbly singular or was it—cm it have bien—tke " blind man's bull and " Kis'-inthe-ltiiig" that did the mischief. Both those games are truly diverting pastimes. ts.h«.r a hearty dituer, what can. possibly bi more enjoyable than to gambol up and down a room with ouss eyes) bandaged aud ocoasioiully come noiuly iuto collision with tho nurblo mantelpiece or bark a shin nguiuai tho fender. It is at timosfikt these we lean to appicciato out dear children, flow aaily will two rollick ing schoolboys i>eizo tho blind-man's coat tails and jerk vigorously in opposite direc tions and what a genial ripple of laughter tills the room us tha iuovitible crisii supervene] and your new dreas-jat:kct (price six euioe is at Poolo'sand not paid for), having first been pulle-1 olean out of shape, finally splits down the hick and is mined for over. As tills leUor luunot reach you till all thought of New Year's holiday-mnkingwill long have emporated, I forbear describing the humours of "Ki« in the-Ring," though must ju*t say a single word of warning—ls a ware whom you caress. X bad kiss is worsa, fir worse, than a bad egs. It may be, no doubt it ii, a good natured and benevolent action to imprint a chnste snluta on the lips of Your little sister's governess iv order that she may not feel Blighted or left out in the cold, but whan, (oh ! hideous oxperienco !!) tho damsel sifihs a foft tumultuous zephyr full in your face, and when—well, when fur breath is tuore of a character easier imagined than described, why then, oh thun, " not all the psrfumes of Araby'1 will make you forget that little whiff. But let us turn (ai loader writers say) to more generally interesting matter. Darnp'y and tniaerab'y though the old voar departed, the w.-athcr proved strangely mild, in fact the temperature, as scientifically taken, was higher on the 30h of Ooeember than on the 30th of June.

The most solemn duty of a. Londoner at Christmas is to go to Dnuy Lane pantomime, and I neod senrcely siy " your correspondent" was careful not tn break that commandment. "Sinbad," (as Mr Augustus Harris's "annual" has playfully been de nominated), is a marvellously gorgeous spectacle, but a dreadfully dull cxtravn. ganzi. splendour follows splendour, till one feils sated with btifjht sights and would sacrifice half of them ti onjay a good laugh. On the first night everytning went wrong, The machineiy was stiff, the flaps wouldn't meet, tho ballet pot confused, and the six low comedians (whose aggregate salaries Jot-up to £250 par week) fell over ouch other In a diamul attempt to be uproariously funny. At length a crisis Biipervcncd, and nmictat storms of hisses die manager came forward to claim the indulgence of the nurti'nee. "Acci dent?," said Mr Augustus Hards, "would occasionally happen, no nu ter what pie caution wore taken, a'irl regard to the hitches jnst then the audience must bear in mind that the present was tha heaviest pantomime ever produc»d anywhere. On this a cruel denizen of tho gallery roared out that "it ceit.i'nly 'was'the heaviest pantomime he had ever soon ; in f act, too d -— - d heavy altogether " Next night however, every difficulty had been got over, and now the colossal enter tainment is played twico a day and runs a3 smoothly as a throe ant comedy. The gre>it feature of ".Sinbad" is a grand pro cession of the Kingi and Queens of Eng land from.. William the Conqueror to Victoria, which ends with a review of the British troops recently engaged in Kgypt. Thi* (scene would in itself make the fortune of any pantomine and as a pageant correct in every particular has never bion equalled. In tho first place the costumes are chronologically correct, and ai every king and queon is followed by pages, soldiers, maids of honour, and courtiors, each group forms a perfect historical picture. The most important events, too. iv every reign are represented. Thus William I. is fol lowed by the Curfew Bell and the Dooms dny Book; Sir Walter ltalpigh throws dowu his cloak for Elizabeth lo walk over; the headsman dogs Charles 1,, and Charles If. flirts with Nell Gwynne. It interested me greatly to find how much the gallery boys knew about Kngland's story. The Black Prince met with hearty cheers, so did Joan of Arc, and Queen Elizabeth ; but " Bloody " Mary was cordially hissed, and over Oliver Cromwell quite a battle royal of cheers and hisses waged. The audience laughed merrily at Henry VIII. arm in arm with his seven spouses, but greeted George IV, with dead silence, aud Mr

Harry Jackson's life-like impersonation of Napoleon the £ir*t bad to give way to the cheers awardttl to Nelson and Welling ton. The reception of the evening was re served for a contingent of infants dreieed as inodo.n poliotirncn who cleared space for the boy reprcaestatives of the troopi employed in Kaypt. This child army is superbly drilled, when at length Sir Garnet Wolseley aud Sir Beauchamp Seymour head their respective troops, hurrah after hurrah resounds through the theatre.

The sceuu winds up with a patdotc song, and when the G5.1 persona engaged in procession join tbe chorus the efl'ect is magical:

" Shoulder to shoulder, steady and true, Fight n. 9 your forefathers taught ye to do, Fight for Hie Union Jack—red, white, and blue, And be sure that you conquer for Kngland."

The tune is a bright and spirited march, and at the close a clever amalgamation of " God Bless tho Prince of Wales" and "(iod Save the Queen" brings tho car penters' scene down mo-t effectively. Othor. features of this mammoth pantomine are: A fairy ballot, in which a number of delicately-shadod dresses are exquisitely blended; a dolls' ilar.c«, between a number of young childtcn and iheir puppets; and a comic poodle dog, iiimirably performed by the famous gymnast, Laun, who frightens the audience into fit) by leaping (a most extraordinary jump) f om the stage to the manager's privato box, and running right round the leilgo of tho grand circle on four leg-). To those of my renders who have only snou colonial theatres this foot may not sound part'culnrly during, tut to achieve it iv an immense honso like Drury lano requires exceptional ncrvo and ng lity.

The publication of the final portion of the autobiography of the late Biahop Wil berforce has caused an extraordinary sen sa'ion iv political and clerical circks, and threatens to damage to no inconsiderable extent the great prelate's memory. The book is edited by tbe bishop' 3 son, Mr Reginald Wilberforce, and his critic? accuse this gentleman of having published private opinions, &c, which the nutohiographer never intended to appear in print. l?o that as it may, tho volume is full of piquant and occasionally rather scan dalous stories about living parsonages, be sides letting out unmlstakeably tho very «nclerical hatred which "Soapy Sam" (a3 ho used to bo called) fcit towards Lord Beaconsfiold and other political notabili ties.

A great controversy has been going on in the papets, ns t» tin origin of Biahop Wil berfoio's sobriquH "Soupy Sam," and some rather nniming apropos stories have been exhumed. On one occasion tho phi! anthroput Wilberforce hoard Lord Strand ford call his brother "Soapy Sam," and feeling rather annoyed a.-<kcd him what ho ny ant by it.—" My di ar fellow " responded Hia lordship genially -"I meant nothing molt) than that the liishop though often in hot water always con.e3 out of it with clean hands."

Having quarrelled with Mrs Langtry for accepting more attention lhau was ronven able fiom a German Yonkcc, with an Hcb rnic cist of countenance and an unpro nounceable name, Mrs Laboucbcru (the "Jersey Lily's" preceptress and chaperonc) luu returned to Knglaiul and was at Hit Majesty's" Theatre on tho fir.it night of the " Yellow Dwarf" the ob erved of all ob server. Scandal ruonjeM have been liopiiiL' for a highly-flavoured account of the tiffin Truth (which us of course you know, ilr LaboucliMO edit?) but ns the member for Northampton is a gtntleman it seems to me improbabhi they will be gratified.

Tint other uight I h*d tho g>od fortune to moot Henry M. StnuU-y, the African ex plorer,out at niuacr. Ha In » heavy deter mined looking fttlnw, with an authoritative manner and lomiwhnt luu-h voico, Even in socioty,Staiil«y ovi/iently finds it hard to bo ciril, aud 1 couldn't imagine a more di- mal ta'o tbau to be compiled to accompany him iuto tho middle of Africa. The greit man talkfd a good dial, and I latber fau cieii Mr Yatea md Mr Hutton who were also present dw'nt quite appreciate the "lionising " Romg all to ono quarter. At length " Kdmnud" (as Luboticucrc always styles the femer iv "Truth") cicated a iiiv'trs:on. Stanley was tolling us an inci dent of the discovery uf Livingstone, aud c miiuij to tho climax—which, by-iho-Wdy, ought to have proved a mo-t pathetic one— ho quottd th« word* of nn old African woman, " TaiiyalU Walhtlo murujanih uxuiijbtng." " Ah," observed Mr Yatcs, meditatively, " I thought Hint was what she would say." (if course a roar of laughter couvulnad tho tiblp, and poor Stauley's story was spoiled. Talking of »toties, reminds mo of a yam tlut ought to iotetott you colonials which appeared in "Truth." It is about marriage with a deceased wifVs sis'er, and avers th-it but for iho recklessness aud lovi'y of the late Loil Lynrthurst, uniorrs of this description would hive beau legill'Sed ill England nearly fifty years ago. The re il, if unnvowftd, object o( tbo Lyudhnrst Act, which forbiJs a man to marry his dfceas d wife* sister, was lo muke tiling pleasant for certain aristocratic personages who had married tiieir sisters-in-law, notably the lute Duko of Beaufo t who, having no male issue by his first wifo, had after h v death married her sister, by -.rhom he had a son, According to tho law as it then existed, the marriage, though not void, was void able, and if set aside iv the lifetime of the parents, their children would bo illegitimate. The Duke's younger brother, Lord Granvillo Somerset, had a son, who, in that ca=e, would have been heir to the Dukedom. Now, Lord Lyndburst was a very intinnto friend of the Duke and Duchess, and having been informed of their very natural uneasiness, he, with characteristic audacity, undottook ti altor tbe law to moot their cases. He intended to bang in a Bill to legalise both antetecerJent aud subsequent marriages, but it being represontod tbat perhaps there would bo a clamour against this which could not fall to prejudico tho prospects of the Tory patty, he> exclaimed, "Oh, d—n it; put it the other way and forbid all future marriages. I amsure I don't care a button which way it i*.1' A large amoimtof misplaced gush has been expended over the marriage of Lady Clara Douglas, (tho Marquis of Qivcnsberry's sister) with a young baker. As a matter ot fact, however, tho spectacle of an elderly apiniter of uncertain age, throwing herself at the head of a hand-ioni3 boy tradesman, is the reverse of edifying. 1 don't blame tho bakor. He had becu cue of her lady ship's most atteutivo Sunday-school pupils from childhood, and though a trills ajraggy, aud quite pennil !ss, the virgin was unques tionably a grand invcitment. Already thu baker's customer! are more numerous than he can supply, and thore aro any number of snobs in London, who will, be only too glad to say they get " their bread from Lady Clara Jones." The "'future Duchess" as sarcastic people call protty Koito Vaughan, is still appearing at the Gaiaty Theatre, and on the (irst night of tha Christmas piec?, " Valentine and Otsou" wore no loss than four dresses vrithln an hour and-a half, all of them maitcrplccos of Worth, and specially designed for her by Pilotcll. The last of these costumoa, a lady's paper says, " muat have excited the wonder and envy of every grand dame prsnont, for it was covered with lace to rare and costly, that oven the diamonds which glistened on the neck a'ld arms of tho rfanscx-se lewked trumpery beside it." "No wonder" adds tha same authority, "Mis Vaughan danced but little towards tho end of the burlisque. In such a dress it would be positively wicked to risk a tear."

In the way of theatrical novelties but little will be done till the Pantomine season begins to wano. On the 20th the "Over land Route " is to be withdrawn from the Haymarket to make room for a farewell revival of " Caste," which passes out of the Bancrofts hands for ever in a few months. The di-tribut'on of characters thia time promises to be exceptionally strong. Mr Bancroft, the only living actor who can do full justice to the part of Captain Hawtree, of course resumes his original role and hts wife (ever charming) will once more appear ns the vivacious Polly Kccles. Mr Da.vid James (the creator of the butterman in " Our Boys," njid one of our most amusing low comedians) has been engaged for Eccles; Miss Gerard for Esther ; Mr H. B. Conway (handsomest of fame premiers) for D'Alrny, and Mr Brookfleld (who achieved such a success in " Odette") for Sam Gerridge, and last, but not least, the inimitable Mrs Stir ling tor the Marquise de St. Maur. With this cast and the Haymarket mounting aud

foul ensemble it will be odd indeed if the farewell representations of Robertson's masterpieae are not memorable ones. Since Christmas, the publishers have not sent out many new books of importance. At the libraries people a-k for nothing but ' Wilberforce's Life,'and 'Lady liloomficld's Memories," which are creating a sensation akin to that caused by the Greville Me moirs some years aeo. Mr James Payn's new story ' Kit: a Memory 'is worth peru sal and thoso wholiite Mr George M. Feun's books willonjoy ' Eli's Children.' Bar these I can recommend nothing. In the news paper world, several co'lapses are imminent. Tho 'Whitehall Keview' has changed hands, and is going fast to ruin, and the Uelt libel case seems likely to shut up 'Vanity Fair,' now edited by Lord Desait. ' .''ociuty' too does not take as it u-e.l, in f ict a little penny sheet which epitomises the tixpenny ' Society ' papers, and (jives excellent ex tracts, ia suulling everything else out.

CHOICE EXTRACTS.

Opportunity is tho bloisom of time, Avoid delays. Error is always dangerous—it cannot be harmless. Head nothing from which you cannot learn something useful. One pound of learning requires ten pounds of common sense to apply it. There is Bomething for everybody to do, especially in the liuu of helping somebody else to do his work or to bair hia burden. Young, the desire of ploasing renders us amiable- old, tho desire of being loved in duces us to be so. The beat portion of a man's life is that devoted to little, nameless, unremembered act* of kindness aud love. Most of our misfortunes aro more support able than the comments of our friends apon them, Feclingi come o>ud go like light troops following tha victory of the present; but principles, like troops of the line, are undis turbed and stand fast, "JNs meet the Poet sometimes walk, unchid, In vagueness of the world-spun voll half-hid, "l'is meet the mountain sometimes bo allowed To cloak its heavenconvorsant peaks with cloud. That man is rich who has a good disposi tion—who ii naturally kind, patient, cheer ful, hopeful, and who haa a flavour of wit and fuu iv his composition, What an argument ia favour of social con nectiouß U the observation that by com municating our grief we have less, and by communicating our pleasures we have more. " If we are fo live after death, why don't we have some knowledge of it?" said a sceptic to a clergyman. ' Why didn't you have somo kuowlodgc of this world before jou came into it!" whs tho caustic retort. An nnchangin" ktnteof joy is not pos3iblo on earth as it u-iw ia, because evil and error are hero. The h 'ill must have its midnight hour ax well »« its sunlit seasons of joy and gladness.

All our progress is nn unfolding, liko the yogi tabhs bud. Yon have lirst an instinct, then an opinion, then a knowledge, as tho plant has root, bid, and fruit. Trust the instinct to tho oud, though you can rentier no nmsoi).

The Kocioty of dcid authors has this advantage over tint of the living, they never llattcr as to our faces, nor slander us behiud our backs, nor intrude upon our privacy, nor qnit their shelves until we tako them dowu.

Tbe one thing which ought not to be re quired of us is fcolf-eriiioism. We can fiud lault wnh others with perfect ease, and oven take delight iv it, but lo be found f mlt with, eKpeciolly whim thero is justice iv the fault-liiding, is uuondurable.

Thero is seldom a line of glory written upon oarth's fm:o but a line of suU'criug runs parallel with it, and they that road tho lußtr«us syll iblea ot tho one and stoop cot to decipher the spotted and worn inscription of the other gut tho Last half of, the lesson that earth has to give.

To work worthily man must aspire worthily. His theory of human attainment must ha lofty, It muat over be lifting him above thu low plain of custom aud conven tion, in whtcli tho senses conthio him, into tho high mount of vhion and renovating ideas,

Hb who through the many changes to which every life is subject cultivates the power of adapting himself to those changes, nnd also to tho new set of circumstances resultiiij? therefrom, possesses a magic talis man against all the vicissitudes of life. So our lives go on ; the river ends we do not know where, and the ssa begiDS.

Poor sad humanity. Through all the dust and heat, Turns back with WoedinK feot, By tho weary road it camo. Unto tho simple thought Hy tho Great Master taught, And that remaineth still: Not ho that repeatoth tho namo. Hut ho that dooth tho will. — H. Jr. Lonflfellow.

The Use of Trouble.—Many of tho brightest virtues aro like stars— it must bo n'ght, or thoy cannot shine. Without suffering; there can ba no fortitude, no patience, no compassion, no sympathy. To enjoy lite, you should be a little miserable occasionally. Trouble, like cayenne, is not very agreeable in itself, but gives great zest to other things

Live for something. Do good, and leave behind you a monument of vlrtao that the storm of time can never destroy. Write yonr name in kindness, love, and mercy on the hearts of thousands you come in contact with year by year; you will never bo for gotten. No, your name, your deeda willbe as legible on the hearts you have loft behind as tho stars on tho brow of the evening, Good deeds will shino as tho stirs of heaven.

Across the blue sky togather Raced three little clouds ono day: The Sun they had pnsßod at noontime, Tho west was a league away. " Oh, ho is so slow," they whispered, "So slow and so far behind. Wo three can bo first at aunsot If only wo have a mind."

They laughed to tuomselve3 in triumph They took hold of hands and flow; But, oh wliat a sad disappointment They aftorward found and know. For thia thoy had quite forgotten. As thoy hurriod along through tbo air There never can bo a sunset Till tlio sun Himself is there.

Sir Andrew Agnew was famous for giving broid hints. The nature oE them will be best ascertained by the following anecdote : Sir Ai'drow having for some time been pestered by an impertinent intruder, it was ono day remarked to thn baronet that this man no longer appeared in his company, and he was asked how he contrived to get rid of him. "In truth," said the baronet, "I was obliged to give the chiel a broad hint." "A broad hint!" replied the friend, "I thought he was one of those who could not take a hint." "By my faith 1 but he was forced to take it," answered Sir Andrew, " for, as tha fellow would not go out by the door, I throw him out of the window."

Ifpaticnoo be simply a slothful love of ease that causes n_s to shun exertion,_ or an excessive restraint preventing rightful efforts at improvement, it it unworthy, and should be drivi n away ; but, if it be that tranquility which is in hajmony with Nature and all her plans—which can afford to wait the appointed time for all things, and yet it never wearied in well-doing—which can en dure with fortitude tho inevitable, and yet loose no opportunity for helping what can be helped and improving what can be improved—which speaks of power held in r eserve, but waiting only the right moment ,o Bpring into action—then we may well ?ope that such a "patience may have her perfect work "

FOR THE LADIES.

I MAN proposes, God disposes—but it tjkes a woman with her hair down to be indisposod when anybody cnlK

' My wife,1 remarked Fif/hodle, ' is fairly crazy over the winter fashions. She's got the dolirium trimmius.'

Nothing like belufj well up in arithmetic. A Vassal- C illege girl has <;oiio iuto half mourning. It was for a half brother. A Professor was lecturing on ' »ftorMan, What?' A listener remarked that it was ' gonerally the .sheriff or some woman.' A young lady attending bulls and parties should always secure a female chaperon un til she is able to c ill some male chap her own.

Littlo Loltie to her frend : 'I have fo many cares. Yesterday a little baby sister arrived, and papa is ouajourmy. It waa but a piece of luck that mamma was at home to take care of it.'

A good book and a good woman are ex cellent things for those who-know how to appreciate their value. There are men, how ever, who jtuljje of both from the beauty of the covering. Placing the adjectives : Clara (looking at bonnets, etc.)—.1 Don't you think they are very handsome?' Amy (whose thoughts are ou the other side of tho streot)—' Very, 'specially the ouu with the black mous tache.'

11 bulisvo that mine will be tho fate of Abel,' Haid a devoted wife to her husband ono day. ' Bow so?' inquired her husband. 'Keoausa Abol was killed hy a club, and your club will kill me if you continue to go to it every night.1 A lady wui asked to reveal tho secret by which she had always preserved the atten tion and ali'ection of hi'.r husband. "It is," answered she, "in doing everything that pleases him, and by bearing patiently everything diat does not pleaee me." An (esthetic maiden is iv groat trouble. She says if she don't marry she will be called .a 'spinster,' and that would be hor riblo ; but if she does marry and survive her husband will be called a 'relict,' and that would ba worse.'

One of the immense advantage1! in the present fashion? h that ladies desirous of practising economy cm, by calculating their toilettes according to their budget, be perfectly woll, nay, elegantly dressed, in a Biniple cojtume of fine cloth costing com paratively littlo Tho di-Ms to be worn by the Empress of Russia at the apprnaching coronation festi vities U ie-'crined in the Russian news papors. Tho work is said to be a marvel of silver brocade and silver embroidery. The embroidery on the train ia to be twenty eight inches in depth, while the train itself weighs no less than twenty pounds. Whatever you think proper to grant a child, lei it be granted at the first word, without cntroaty or prayer, and, above all, without niakin" conditions. Grant it with pleasure, refuse with reluctance, bat let yonr refusal bo irrevocable; let no im portunity shake resolution ; lot the word " No," whon once pronounced, bo a wall of brass! which a child, after ho has tried his strength against it ba'f-a-doz-jn times, shall never more endeavour to shake. The fol'owing is a specimen of how girla go fi.liahing :—' Oh, I sco one I' ' Where ?' 'Oh, my, so he ia I' 'Let's catch him !' 'Who's got the bait?' 'You Wzything, you're sitting on my pole !' ' Oh, some thing's got my hook ?' ' Hull up, you little idiot P ' Oh, murder ! take it away. Ugh I tako it away tho nasty thing 1' ' Huw will it ovar set off';' ' a iu't it pretty ?' ' Won d»r It It ain't dry V ' Poor little thing 1 Left pnt i\ hick again ?' ' How will it get tho h«ok froti iti month?' A youii" httßbaiul, desirous of provoking a chance to pity a compliment to his young wife and of receiving an assurance oE afl'ec lion, s»y« with an aspect of surprise, 'My .■?'..-r, 1 hoard n v«ry remarkable thing to (ley—WhaWusnanie told me that ho bad bcoii looking Into the matter vory closely, and hRd disooverod that there was only one married worn in on this street who wasn't a fl ii t and toally loved her dear hubby bettor than auv other man in the world.1 The wile a/tor mnture reflection-' I wonder now who it cm be ? I thought I knew everybody on the street.'

"FORGIVE ME."

I did not think th&t I should Bay It ilist. Thai m umur 6VJnln(? whsn we qiiarrel.oa B0 Abaut f>oma trlflo you Had maitnlilid j Mtin Hr • to hfireh you fenjv, Wo mild uoino b ttor wordi of Into and aeon; Mr prulo was up—my tampar too. indeed : But oven <hon I thought thnt you would com Kro iour t) seok mo and, porohinco to rtloaa, "iTorgvcmo!

I did not think that I should sny it flisA. Nnovan whon yuufltayetlowayso long: I thought I ooulJ bu prondand Btabbo:n too— I did not know thatlove ooulA be so sprung, 1 did not thlnlc life oouid ooom bo lonif WUliont iho love I rookleas cast away; Hut now I know «hat I, perhaps waa wron«, And doaros", I am bravo nnotiKh to Biy, "Kornivo ma!

I d.rt not think that I should flay it flrdt. Ti a1 g iranio' oveninß whoa we qiaml'ea so: I h»to<l y JH, I know yon hulod mo, Hut dearest, tint s «o-nii lonx und long aRO So l.iDff-and I. oh, I have missed yon so, While you porohanco hava swrad my Bllont We both were wrong—bat lore hai oonquarod

Forg'jt tho p»t-'et vi bo frlands again1.

The Girl of the Period.

SllK wore a round hat upon the back of her head like tho aureolo of a saint, to whom her sweet face gave her an appoarance of kindred. Her bodice was close fitting—in deed, drawn tight about her waist, like the bark of a young tender tree. Her scant skirt, pulled tight in front so as to show her form and " tied bAck," terminated behind iv a short fanllko train, like tho tail of a mcrm lid. She was uiountod on shoes sevoa sizes too small for her teefc-indecd, only her toes appeared to have accommodation in them ; and the high heels coming under tho inatcp tilted her forward andcompleted the grace of her carriage. When she walked she put down one little foot after tba other as it each leg were as elastic as an iron rod. It was a groat pleasure to see her pegenig along a thing of perfect beauty, liko one of the drawings of some mythological biped by one of tho old masters

What a Weak Woman Can Do.

She can sit at the open window of a railway carriages with a stiff north-east .vincl blow iug in that chills everybody in the vicinity to the narrow, for two hours, in a thin muslin dress, without flinching. She can dance or waltz down the cap'ain of a march ing regiment, and at the eleven o'clock supper put away lobster salad, ice-craam, champagne, cake, and coffee, without flinch ing, sufficient for a week's nightmare^ to a strong man. She can comb her hair all baeksoas to lewe tho roots of it to the full play of a December breeze, and wear a bonnet on tbe top of a chignon, leaving cars and head exposed with impunity, with the thermometer ten degrees below zero. Sba can study music for ten years sulnclantly to enable her to perform cxocilontly when not in the presence of those who desire to hnnr her. She can balincn herself on the ball of her great toe aud a 3'ioe-heel the size of a dime all day in the public streets without falling. She can occupy tinco seats in a horse-car, and he utterly oblivious that aayof her own sex are standing up. She shows unusual strength and firmness iv the holding of real estate, solitaire diimonds, and other valuable property which her husband places in her hands previous to hia compromising with his creditors for twenty cjnts on a dollar,

Overworked Women.

Nothing is more reprehensible and thor oughly wrong than the idea that: a woman fulfills her duty by doin» an amount of work far beyond her strength. She not only does not fulfil the duty, but she most signally fails in it, and the failure ih truly deplorable. If tho work- of the household cannot be accomplished by order, system and moderate work, without the necessity of wearing, heartbreaking toil, then for the sake of Immunity let the woik go on, The woman who spends her life in unnecessaiy labour i», by this very labour, unfitted for the highest duties of home She should be the haven of rest to which both hu'band and children turn for peace and refreshment. She should be the careful, intelligent adviser and guide of one, the tender confidante and helpmate of the other. How is it possible

for a woman exhausted in bidy -as a natural consequence in mind aUo—to perform either of these ofTicej ? Her dispo-itton is ruined, her temper is soured, her very nature has changed by the burden whick, too heavy to carry, is dragged along as long as wearied feet and tired hands can do their part. Even her affections are blunted, and she becomes merely si machine - a woman without the time to ba womanly, a mother without the time to train and guide her chil dren as only a mother can do, a wife with out the time t*) symp^thiz* with and cbeer her husband, a woman so overworked during the day that when night comes her sole thought nnd intense lons-ing is for the rest and sleep that very probably will not come, and even if it should, that she is to.i lired to enjoy. Bitter far let everything g> un finished, to live as best she cm, than to en-

tnif on herself and family the curse of over work.— "Sanitary Maagsbie."

The Home and How to Make it Happy.

You have got a nice comfortable house we shall suppose. Well then, if you wish to mako this house a happy home, keep it clean, tidy and tasteful : - Cleanliness, tidi ness, neatness, orderliness : -this is a very important element in tne happiness of a home : —Here is a home where the wife and mother gets up betimes in the morning, and so makes a good start ou every new day and new opportunity of life. It U a grand tiling to niakii a irnoil s'art ou every new fre.-h morning Uod gives* ua. tfere is tho house b.'antifully clean, nea% orderly. Every thing put in its owa place at the right lime and in the right trim. The husband's and children's clothes well washed, mended, buttoned. Tho children all ready for going out to their work or their school in good time. The meals deliberately and p rfectly cnoked and on the table clean and cosy and comfortable at the diet hour, Herself trig, blithe, and bonny. As soon a*i you enter this home a very delightful glow of comfort and happiness comes over you. You feel what a great help to the happiness of the home such housekeeping is s - " Hia W63 bit iagle, b)ioklu' bonnlly. His clean hoarih-Btane, hia tfcrlftle wifo^ stnilo Tho lleplng infant pruttlintr. on bl« lines, Does a' hl9 weary rarttinfr oarea b'gaile. An' makes htm qalto forget hia labour an' his toil." Yes; it the husbaud of such a wifo and home is not contented, loving, and happy, he is a brute and not a man. He is a cruel, ill-conditioned, disgusting, disheartening cursa on Uod's earth,

TWO OF THEM.

In the farm-house porch tho farmer sat, With his daughter, having a cosy chat; She was his only child, and ho Thought her as fair as a girl could bo. A wee bit jealous the old man grew If ho fancied any might come to woo; His one pot lamb and her loving care Ho wished with nobody else to share.

" Thero should be two of you, child," said he— " There should bo two to wolcomo mo When I come home from the Held at night; Two would make tho old homo bright. Thoro's neighbour Gray, with his children four, To bo glad together. Had I ono more A proud old fathor I'd bo, my dear. With two good children to greet mo here."

Down by the gate, 'ncath tho old elm tree, Donald waited alone; and Bho For whom bo waited his love call heard, And on either chock the blushes stirred.

" Fatli**r," sho cried, and knelt her down, And kissed tho hand that was old and brown— " Father, there may be two if you will, And I—your only dungl'tei: still.

Two to welcome you homo at night, 'i-wo to mnUo tho old homo brl«ht; I—aud somebody else." " I "soa," Said Uuo fanner; " and who may somebody.bo?' Oh, tho dimple* on Bessie's ohoek. That pinyod with tho blaalios at hide and seek I Away from bis gaze Rh» turned her head— Ono of neighbour Gray's olitlilion, sir," sho said.

" ITnl" said tho {armor; " mako it plain. b it Hauan, Alice, or Mavy Jane?" Anothor kiss on tho aged liand. To help the farmer to understand— " U'm I" said tho farmer; " yos, I boo ; Ttffl two for yourself nnd ono for me." Hut Bessy said, " There cun bo but ono For mo and my heart till Ilfo la done. —Chicayo Tribune,

John Wesley in a Fix-and Out Again.

The following anecdote of the founder of Methodism illustrates in a remarkable manner tho mingled tact and piety of that ominout man. Although Wesley, like the Apostles, found that hu preaching did not groiitly affect thu mighty or the noble, still he numbered some families of goodposiiiou among his followers. It wus at the house of ono ot these thut the incident here recorded took place. Wesley had been preaching; and a daughter of a neighbouring gentleman, a girl remarkable for her beauty, had boan profoundly impressed with his exhortations. After the sermon Wesley was invited to this gentleman's house to luncheon, and with himself one of his preachers wai en tnrtained. This prtacher, like many of tho class at that time, was a man of plain man. uors, nnd not conscious of the restraints of gooil society. Tha fair young Methodist sat baside him at the table, and ho noticed that slis wore a number of rings.; During a pause in the inoal th<! preacher took hold of the youii" lady's hand, and, raising it in the air, called Wes'ey's aiteutiou to tbe spark- Hag jewels, " Wiiac do you think of this, sir, he said, "for a Methodist's hand ?' The girl turned crimson lfor Wesley, with his known and expressed aversion to finery, the question was a peculiarly awkward one. But the aged evangelist showed a tact which Chesterfield might have envied. He looked up with a quiet benevolent smile, and simply said, "Tho hand is very beautiful." The blushing beauty had expected something far different from a reproaf wrapped up with such felicity'in a compliment, she had the good sense to say nothing ; but when, a few hours later, she again appeared in Wesley's presence, the beautiful hand was stripped of every ornament except tlvsa which nature had given. ~ \,

Girls Who Get Tired.

PROnABLY the average «irl diuei't know her own mind more than a few minutes at a time, She is forevor wishing something or another was something els« until it is something else, and then she wishes it was etill anothor thiog. When she goes shopping she has the most dreadful time of it. fche is almost always certain to want to return whatever she gets and get something elso When she does not do this it is because she hai not on her shopping; excursion baen able to ke'p her mind tog-tther long enough to buy anything of suilicient consequence to return.

Tho uncertainty which cha'acterizes thoir shopping experience, however, does not embarrass them when it comes to selecting a husband. It is easier for moat girls to picK out a husbind trfan it is to matoh a libbon, and somo of them don't give as much consideration and thought to the oae as to the other. And yet it isn't very ca9y to exchang* a husband when one finds she bag made a mistake.- Perhaps the girls are not fo much to blame. A sweet moustache and a lovoly noaktio are not tr> be rtswted by everybody: tboy arc well de signed to capture tbe avoraae girl. But while some girls ohonse their minds a little too late, there aro those of a quicker dUpoiltion. One of tb/«o latter has just como to the public attention in Illinois. «he has been sued for breach of promise, yhe engaged herself to a sweet moustache and perfectly lovely n?cktie, but shorlly discovered that she roally didn't want to marry them When she was brought into Court to explain, she merely indicated in the chosen language of the untamed West that the youug man was nice to look at but be made her tired. .He had nothing but his moustache and necktie, aud she was one of the rare girls who had found out this fact before she had married herself to these tbibga. Whether the jury will award tbe moustache and necktie any damage 3 has not yet been determined. In cases like this girls would do them selves more justice if they would get tired sooner. The large majority of them don't find out how tired they arc till after marriage, and then tlio husband whom they have not concerned themselves very much to select cannot be exchanged liko the three-quarters of a vnrd of ribbon which ha? co9t them weeks of anxiety and painful thought and care. The average girl won't caro to read this. She doesn't want advice on the matter of selecting a husband, but when she is going to buy a new pair of stockings she will seek the wisdom and experience ot of all her acquaintances. Gmtls are the priz« puzzles of the world. -" Philadelphia Press.'

A New Way to Pay Old Debts.

A CiETAIS Mchigmder, who had long »«cc»eded in dodging a certain creditor, was a few weeks ago cornered in the olliou of a mutual friend, and the orcdltor hegau : — j 'Sir, you have owed me $25 for a year pa<t, and now I want to know what you are going to do about it ?" "I will think it over." " There will be no thinking it over, my friend. "If yoiAlon't pay me I'll suo you." "You will?" "I will, sir." " Then you will be certain to got a judg ment. The pirty which bring*) tho suit always gets the verdict before a Justic \ Knowing this, you will take advantage of me,"

"I will." "Very well. Now, then, I deny that 1 owe you a dollar." "You do?' "I do sir; but in case you w.int to borrow §25 of me fora week, here it is." " I don't care whether you call it paving or lending, so long as I get the money," re plied the creditor, and he made out a re ceipt iv full and took tho money. At the end of the week he was asked to return the loan, but laughed at tins absurdity of tbe request. Suit w:u begun to recover it, the mv uil friend used «is a witnuss, and the plainly received judgment in his favour aud had a clean receipt lo show for the dibt.

Coffee-houses.

TKMPHIJANCS refreshment hoicc; wore common enough yeirs ago undw tlio name of coffee-houses, and as late as the year 1715 there were about 2,000 leeistered in London alone. Politicians and agitdtou gathered at coffee-homes : and Ch.trles 11., by a pro clamation, tried to put down these establish ments aud failed. Coffee-houses, which were in reality clubs, were general at tho close of the seventeenth century. Every clasa and party had its coffee-house where its members met. There was the literary coffee-house called Wills's between Covent garden and Bow-street, where Dryden was the great man, and whore literary lords, literary lawyer*, dramatists, players, nnd wits of all kinds, met to settle the merits of literature and the stage. There was Britton's coffee-house hard by, and there might be seen, day after day Addison aud Steele discussing their coffee and tobacco and thincs in general. Then thero-was Tom's coffee-house, where Johnson, Garricir, Foote, and Sir Philip Francis spent much of their time. Gradually these establish mentswere oonve'rted into fa-hionable club», while, for the great bulk of tho people, beerhouses and public-housrs took thoir place. In the reign of Gorge I. beerhouses were established in all quarters of London for the lower class of politicians, and these were encouraged by the Whigs in opposition to the Tory coffee-houses. Politics then, ns now, amazingly enaonragoi drinking, and so riotous did these mughonse.i become that they were obliged to be put down by Act of Parliament. Bterhousps hive been revived again, and agjiu an effort is niiide to chock llieii influence, not by suppressing them, but by providing coffee and cocoa houses.: There are now something liko 4,000,000 abstainers from drink amongst us. and abstinence from drink has during tha laC thirty-five years, become fashionable. Tho Bishop oMJurham is a total abstainer, and a laage number of his clergy. Coffee houses havo thus a constituency to work upon. In tho last century, and at tha beginning of thepresmt, there were several coffee-houses on the Qnay, and in Pilgrim streot, Newcastle. It It not sasy to pick out these, for, like public-houses for the sale of drink, they had bad names, which, as our readers will know, were thon not eoofined to publio-hoasss, — Liverpool "Post." ' . .

Remarkable Works of Human Labour.

KiNBVXii »asll miles long, S niilcs wide, and 40 miles round, with a wall 100 feet high, and thick enough for three chariots abreast. Babylon was 60 miles within its walls*-, which were 75 fact thiafc, and 100 feet high, with 100 brauen gates. 'I he toiuple of Diana at Ephosus was 420 feet to the support of the roof; it was 100 yoirs in buildin?. The largest of the Pyramids was 481 feet in height, and 953 on the aides; the base covers 11 acres, the stono.3 arc about 60 feet in leaßth, and the layers are 208; it employes 320,000 men in building. Tho Labyrinth in Egypt contained 300 ohambers and 12 hall". : Thebes, in Egypt, presents rnins 27 miles round, and 100 fjatos. Carthago wa> 29 miles round, a thorn was 25 miles round, and con(aiu°d 350,000 citfzena and 400,000 slaves. Tho Temple oE Dolphos "vas so rich in dona'ions that it was plundered of £10,000,000, and Nero carried away from it 200 statues. The walls) of Koine were 13 miles round.

The True Story of Mazeppa.

The Byronic story oi Maecppa, which has usually found favour in '.Western countries, and has led to a va9t expenditure of energy not only in the way of versifying, but also in organising sensational representations on tha stage, does not altogether correspond with that which prevails in Eastern Kuropo, The supposed " Cossack " is repudiated by tho tribioa of which ho is here supposed to have beep a leading ornament, and appears to Kngsian readers as a native of Poland; who came at the age of twenty to the Court of King Casimir. His chief recommendation waa a remarkable .personal htiauty, com bined with much, learning and eloquence; With the, aid of these advantages Mazoppa acquired honourable:notice, and wa? made a gentleman of the chamber to the Polish King, who would no doubt have advanced him to further, hsnours had hei behaved with due decorum. Unfortunately, -the iyounjj courtier.ran-off. with tho wife of a i titled potentate, who; caught him, and bound him to his own hose in tho attitude familiar to English readers and play-goers. But tho horse, instead of being an uutamed courser of the Ukraine, seems to have been an animal of a very different type, for it is said to have required urging, likeaDoecr donkey, with whips or stick?, inti the thickets, where the unwilling rider was torn and bruised, Mazeppa, thus humiliated, retired voluntarily to the land of tho Cossacks, instead of being carried nolens volcns on the back of a fiery steed. By im posing upon the Bimpicity of the natives he was enabled to become their lietmau, and many years after attempted to stir up a rebellion tho Czar. The Cossacks declined 'the invitation and exiled their visitor. Yet his schemes must have created some fear among tho Muscovites, if it is true that on the first Sunday in Loot his name is anathematised in all the Russian cathedrals.

The Growth of Nations.

The following is from the " New York Tribune.V—About 800,000 inhabitants have been added to .the. population duriua the past year by immistation, and 1,470 000 since the last census was taken. During the last decade tbe increase was 2,812 ; 190 by immigration, leaving 8,785,222 for the increase by the excess of births over deaths. More than half as many immigrants as were received during the whole of that decade have arrived within the la^t two fiscil year?, and the population of the United States must now ba about 83,800,000. Kc cent enumeration of population in Great Britain, Fraoce, and Italy cnab'o us to con trast the growth of thu with other nations. In ten years Great Britain has gained in population about 3,400,000; in two years the United States has probably gained about 3,700.000. In ten years France gained 1,200 000, having lost to Germany a population of about 1.C00.000. Gnmany, with that increase, gained l.ss 'than 4 200,000, or about 2,000.000 f.'oni other cause's, so that the jiint incieasc of bulk Germany and Franci", with 77,000,000 of Eeople ten years ago, has been less than onc alf greater in tea years than that of tho United State* has been in the. two years recently ended. Austria cained from ISG9 to ISSO only, 1,981,000 inhabitants, aud ■Italy from 1871 to 1881 only 1,651,000, so that their joint increase iv ten years was less than that ot the United States has been in two years, ;