Christmas, 1885.

CHRISTMAS GREETING.

A DREAM OF UNIVERSAL BROTHER HOOD.

""It's comin' yet. for a' taat."— Burns. I. Onoemoreaainthelongago. ._..„. „, "The time draws near the birth of Christ; * Here, amid Summer's genial glow, At Home, 'mid Winter s leo aud snow, Mem throng to keep the saored tryst. In many » happy meeting; And while earth rin«B with Christmas ohoer, 1 (bard obaoure with laurels sere) Watt once again to far and noar My wortted uhriatraas greeting. n. Shall they alone my notice olaim, With aupple knoe and ready word. Who glibly name the Holy Name, And seek to fan Religion's flame By calling Jesua God and Lord, With much of vain repeating ? No; though I would not these eatrange, But with them words of love exonange, My brotherhood seeks wider range In this my Christmas greeting!

THE GREETING.

To ye, my kinsfolk o'er the sea, True Britons wheresoo'eryebe, Whether In tropic lands ye roam, Or sojourn in your Northern Home- To all who own Victoria's sway. To all who English rule obey. My thoughts nrst fly, this happy day 1

A Merry Christmas to ye all, No matter by what name ye call Yoursalve?. The heavenly pledge was Riven "Not to one Ohuroh aloae, but seven, t All sects, the greatest and the leas- - Pope. Bishop, Ptesbvter, and Priest- May join mo at my Christmas Feast!

Next go, my joyful greeting, forth To all the varied tribes of Birth- Linked in Sln'a common brotherhood In sight of Him, All Wise. All Good. One fold, one family are we— The black and white, the bond and freo— Let all unite in Christmas glee!

To the grave Moslem, as he kneels And the pure thrill of worship foelB; To Buddha's votaries humane, Who bow in many an Eastern fane; To those who serve, in trembling fear, Goda crnel. tyrannous, austere— I wißh you all blithe Christmas oheer !

To ye who with your lipa deny The Good in Nature, but comply With heart and deed-who truly dwell In the great Church Invisible; To ye whom hone3t doubts enthral While noble yearninga upward call— A Merry Christmuo to ye all!

INTERLUDE.

What matter if your high ideal Be Buddha, Mahomet, or Christ, Your union none the less is real In hope, in aim, in love, in Geist,

Worship ye Matter, Firo, or Spirit, Follow Confuolus or Paine,— Bach systom has its separate merit. And holda of truth a precious grain,

Jew. Parsee, Mystic and Asrnoatio Muat short of perfect knowledge fall; God Is Himself the only Gnostic, And He ia Father of us all.

All own one instinct, Heaven-implanted— A warm love for the Good and Truo ; Allsoek, as in a dream enchanted, A nobler life, a wider view. The universal heart is throbbing, Wi th hopea whloh naught can a'er destroy Thit all ourßlßhinst and our sobbing Shall end in perfect peace and joy. And why, when Chrlstmaabellaarepeallnfr. When Heaven is near, and life a span. Should Bigotry, with heart unfeeling. A barrier raise 'twist man and man ? 111. No linos ray love shall oiroumsoribe Drawn at Geneva, or at Homo; No bounds of oolour, rice or tribe: No prelate proud, or priest, or scribe; No oreed oonoiae, or laboured tome. Shall stay my message flretrng. To him that does a Chrlat-llke deed, No mattnr what his caeto or oreed, — To BUOh I wish a warm "God-Spaed!" And happy Christmas greeting!

John L. Kelly

December 2Ub, 1885.

"Tennyson, t Longfellow.

CHRISTMAS IN LONDON.

"Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Mkn."

I went through the city hrfore the morn, The boils out in chime— •' Behold, this day a Oh ist ia born, This happy Christmas time."

There waa a starving little child. Her shoulders bare, unshod her feet; Her eyes were blue-you could Bjoright through Where heaven and hunger meet. " Thtß 19 one of Thy lambs, dear Lord, Oat in the bitter cold," I uinrmur'd, in accents low; " Where are tho shepherdß who watch Thy told Dawn on this earth below 1 This is one of I hy angels Bweet- Poor little arms, bo pinched with cold; Poor Bunken eyes, and bleeding feet; A wanderlug saint in tha frosted street"

And the child pass'd on, through alleys dim; Yet over and ever the bells would ring Anthems of love to the cherabim ; And the merry crowd sang to the chime— " Peaoo on earth" this Christmas time. " Peaoo on earth " to nun and brute. And the hurrying crowd aweepß by, Shunning the crouchinn prostitute. And the glare of her wanton eye, Leaving her plying her devilish trade, (Jiving but now and then a Bigh At the starving masquerade.

A pitiless masquerade Of wanton sin and pitiful crime; The a evil plying hia trade This happy Christmas lime. Ring out, glad belh, the birth of Chrißt, Ring out, sweet bells, the reign of love, The poor within the fold of God. The eagle mated with the dove. And angels of the brighter clime Chanting peace, this Christmas >imo.

And the snowflakes fell on the hurrying throng. Who, with frozen breath, passed thestreetsalong Humming the stave of a drunken song— "eoodwUltomen"- Hash! hueh! I oiled, A dead man reeleth against my side; But "Peace on earth, the mob repliad. And on tho cold stones an old man died!

Mother, O Mother! tby babe, like thy breath, Is only an iolcle, cold as death. Haste thee home, where fires are bright, For the frosted goda are out to-night. Bat the woman turned, and her dim eyes told Of a spirit warped with want and cold, A young face with sorrow and hunger old, And she answered. " Where shall I abide Bat with the crowd this Christmaßtide? Why hurry me home, so late, co lats! a o roofless garret and empty grate 1 Let me abide, let me abide. In the warmth of the street this Christmastlde.

And I mixed with the crowd that was hurrying

fast Where the snow like a shroud its shadows cast, And I thought, What a mantle (as the pure flakes fell) To cover the depths of a human hell!

Cold, cold as the frosted rime. Came the snows down this Christmas-time. Bat the Chrietless cry of the bigot and prude, And the murmuring voice of ingratitude. And the careless hum of the thoughtless throng, Must be this year my Christmas song. Dear Christ, if Thou art, or yet Shalt be. What can such a Christmas ba to Thee}

If ever Thou wort, or yet Shalt be, Would'at thou not shudder, dear Christ, with

mfl? ■ ■ " • "' " ' For my heart bleeds—does Thine notaohe For tha thoughtless mob and the starveling's sake, ■ ' For the cold dead man on the stones at rest, For the babe sucking death from ' a frozen

For the girl half nude this -wintry time- Tho'joy Dolls are ringing Tny birthday ohime ? O! What a blessing this storm of snow, Enshrouding tha depths o( human woe, But where is the heart, this Christmas time. That loves its neighbour, tho' It rings the

chime— , ■' Peace on earth—goodwill tp men;" Is one heart wue, when it says "Amen V W. R. Wills.

Christmas, 1885.

GODMOTHER GRANTLEY'S Christmas Stocking.

[Written tob the " Stak " Christmas

Supplement.]

BY "JENNYWRKN"

CHAPTER I,

OUR GODMOTHER,

My earliest recollections of my Godmother Grantley are so closely connected with memories of Christmas and Christmas happiness that I can scarcely choose a better season to speak of her many virtues, trials, and kindnesses, than on the anniver sary of my baptism, when, as the Church Catechism quaintly asserts, this most excel lent godmother gave me my name. As a youngster, I often wondered what the term godmother implied, or why the dear friend I loved bo well should bear the quaint title. I carried this, with many another childish perplexity, to that blessed place of comfort and instruction, my mother's knee; and there I learned somewhat of ita significance. From that I believe I more reverently loved my godmother, for mother told me that she was given me by the angels to help to know God, His love, His wisdom, and His will, towards us, in case she, my natural mother, should be taken away from me during childhood, and I should sorely need such a spiritual guide. My mother bad long been a confirmed invalid, but we, my sister Cora and I, never j tbought it as being anything unusual. We I

were so accustomed to seeing mother re clining on her couch, never complaining, never uttering an impatient word, but ever gentle, beautitul, and ready to sympathise with us in everything, that we never thought of the possibility of parting from that tender, loving parent. j

My father—well—l don't know whether he knew there was any danger. He was always immersed in business cares and oc cupations, always calculating, planning, or writing, and we very seldom saw him, except on Sunday.

That day was always a happy one to us, for then Godmother Grantley would come over in her little pony carriage, and take us both for a long drive into the country. For strange as may such teaching seem from such a person as one's godmother, she always averred that the beautiful scenes of nature were the best Sunday-school teachers for littlo town children, who were brought up between brick walla, and could scarcely catch a clear view of God's beautiful sky. So she always carried us away to her lovely country home on fine Sundays, and if it were wet, she would come over, if possible, to divert our minds from brooding over our disappointment, and of all the beautiful story lore my childish ears ever delighted in, that was the most charming that came from Godmother Grantley's lips.

Sometimes mother would accompany us in our lovely drives, and then we would indeed be happy, for these two blessings were almost more than our young hearts could hold.

But one day our godmother came on a very different errand, and our young hearts were filled with sorrow, for we knew that on the threshold of our home an angel waited to carry away the beautiful, weary spirit of our beloved mother, and this was why Godmother Grantley had come to comfort us,

It came and passed, that deep shadow men call death, but she told us that our mother livod in a home so beautiful and full of love that if we could only see her we would not wißh hor back again, to suffer such weary pain. So we looked on the sweet, white face with reverence and love, but fear entered our little hearts, for we knew that mother was with the angels, and loved us still the same. Then, after that day|| of shadow and silence, father kissed us, and bade us "good-bye," and Godmother Grantley took us to her own home,

Grantley Avenue was a sweet, secluded spot gome miles out of Norwich, and al though I have since visited many a scene of beauty in foreign climes, back to my old heart comes the memory of that lovely place like the murmur of a sweet refrain, renewing recollections of the first dawn of that love and happines3 within my soul that has been tho blessed fruit of tho seeds sown by dear Godmother Grantley. Did I tell you what, she was like? I have no portrait of her ; in those days portraits were few, and very expensive, and the dear soul considered her money better spent in relieving the necessities of others than of having her own likeness taken. But in delibly stamped upon my mental visior is the image of her tiny, fairy-like figure, flitting about all day, ever seeking some blessed task of love to do for others.

She was very fair, her eyes were her chief beauty, so full and clear, and as blue as heaven's azure. Her hair was always caught up tightly round her classical head ; she disdained following every changing fashion, and when the sunbeams glanced upon it, I ueed to think they seemed to linger lovingly among its golden braids. She was all alone in the world. She had nevor married, and had no living relation. My mother had been her girlhood's chosen friend, and they had never broken the golden bond. So that was how Miss Grantley became our godmother. She was generally regarded as being "singular" in her tastes, and " peculiar " in her views, but she was everybody's friend in sorrow, and everybody's counsellor in perplexity, so much so that she was wont to remark, "Really, Edgar, I had need bo a walking dictionary."

CHAPTER 11,

MY SISTER COXA,

Those were happy years, whilo Cora and I were children. We wore eeldom apart; we shared the same lessons, gamos, and pleasures, under the wise supervision of Mies Grantley, in whom we indeed found a second mother. Our father rarely visited us ; he seemed to interest himself very little in our affairs, except that he placed at Miss Grantley'B disposal a yearly draft to defray our expenses. And when we were about fourteen, we received the news of his death in America, whither he had gone to establish a branch business, .and engage in new speculations.

Then Miss Grantley told us we were heirs of considerable wealth, and tnat I must go to the Academy, and fromthence toCollege, to fit myself for my future position, and that Cora must continue her education under the joint tuition of herself and a governess. So the first of many partings took place one snowy New Year's morning, as, amid smiles and tears, we said good-bye; and the old coach rattled out of the narrow street away on to the London road. My sweet little sister thus became the sole companion of Misa Grantley's quiet hours, drinking in daily of her spirit, ever learning at her feet some fresh lesson of love and duty, that should bye-and-bye bring forth the fruits of a noble life.

■ On the following Christmas I came home, bringing all sorts of glowing reports of the awfully jolly life of a Grammar School boy. Cora was then fifteen, a gontle, dainty little maiden, loving all out of the fulness of her loving nature, and beloved by every one who met her.

We had such a splendid Christmas that year, such fun, frost and frolic ; such skat ing, such parties, and feasts of all good things conceivable to home sick school boys, in which our poorer neighbours shared liberally - and after that I did not see little Cora for three years.

Returning then in high triumph at having passed successful examinations, I was indeed surprised to find how lovely and accomplished our darling had grown. "So like our mother," Miss Grantley said. I could not remember much of mother's personal appearance, and that only as an invalid; but everybody admitted that Cora was the belle of our Christmas ball.

Again I went away, not to return until I attained my majority, and then Miss Grantley gave a large party in my honour, and everyone of our poor friends re-echoed the toast of the evening—"God bless the young squire." Then Cora was a beautiful woman, and my college chum, Reginald Hareourt, fairly Jest his heart, and told me confidentially " that life held but one fond hope for him, to win sweet Cora's in ex change." ' I looked him straight in tho eyes, and told him plainly "that he must mind what he was about, as Cora's heart was not to be ' lightly won,' lightly held, and as lightly thrown away," She was the treasure of Miss Grantley's life, and the very idol of our heme. And Reginald, well—he was know n as a jolly young fellow, rich, handsome, liberal, and good natured; but I know Miss Grantley'a ideal of perfect manhood was not realised in the free and easy life of the young heir of Hareourt. Colonel Hareourt was our near neighbour, a fine specimen he of an English officer. He intended purchasing a commission for Regi nald in a craok regiment, and sending him out to win honour and glory in his country's service.

"The boy was wild," the Colonel said; " but all young men wero apt to be frisky at College. He would pay all his duns, enter him to Queen's service, and then ex pect him to do his duty as an Englishman and a Hareourt of Hareourt."

Reginald's continued attentions to Cora at length attracted Miss Grantley's watchful eye, and she, not quite approving of such intimacy, decided to follow out a long con certed plan, and make a short continental tour for the benefit of Cora's health. So the dear old house was shut up, and w.e went off to Paris.

I need not ask my reader to accompany us through Prance, Germany, and Italy, but will pass over the intervening months, and come to the pleasant little town of Lucerne, in Switzerland, where 1 met my fate, and where occurred the incidents that have chiefly induced me to write this Btory.

CHAPTER 111 ABOUT "OLOTI."

We had been on an excursion up the Rigi, and having most intensely enjoyed the Eublime scenery from ita lofty heights, we were glad indeed to return to our hotel, and rest amid the beauties of the valley, and partake of the delicious repast pro vided for us by Host Bonheur.

"Who have you staying here now?" inquired Miss Grantley, as the landlady briskly bustled about in the most sincere attempt to make them comfortable.

" Well, madame, we have one family from England, a lady, two daughters, and a governess, two brothers and an uncle. They are called Ricard. I know not how

they live, but they are not of the wealthy class of tourist. I often pity the little girl they call Clotilde. She is so much less proud, so much less selfish than the others, but she is their servant in all things. No person ever thinks poor Cloti is weary, or wants any pleasure, but must always be ready to wait upon all, which she does, without complaint, poor child, but she has a weary time of it. Often Ido wish I could make her line sister do some sewing, and let Cloti go out for a walk !" The good woman stopped at last for want of breath, but Miss Grantley's interest was aroused, and I knew that, if possible, Cloti'a tasks would be lightened by a loving, unas suming sympathy that never failed to win the confidence of the heart it sought tD soothe.

And one afternoon, when Cora and I re turned from a delightful ramble, we found our godmother engaged in assisting a young girl of about sixteen to trim a cap, which had evidently occasioned the young milliner no small anxiety. We were soon introduced and on the best of terms with each other, Cloti seeming full of happiness at the pros pect of Miss Grantley's friendship. Madame Bonheur had found her sitting alone, sadly perplexed over the cap she had to prepare for the evening's wear, and had taken her straight to Miss Grantley's room, where she was soon relieved and in structed', as well as considerably cheered. After that, Cloti often came to sit with Miss Grantley while Cora and I were out, and spend a pleasant hour with us while her people were abssnt at party and concert. Mrs Ricard, a pompous old lady of very illiterate tastes, was intent upon the ap proaching marriage of her eldest daughter, Nina; and her brother, who bore all their travelling expenses, never seemed to con sider little Cloti worthy of his notice.

The eons were exceedingly wild young students, and the governess was such only in name, her chief occupation being that of lady's maid to the "dowager" and her eldest daughtor. But she did not seem to feel their neglect. She never thought of horself as deserving attention, butwillingly dovoted herself to the various tasks allotted to her by her several relations. Quick, clever, and willing, sho was their dovotod drudge, never seoking any other pleasures for herself than a quiet dream by the water side or an hour's companionship with Mias Grantley. W c found her education had been much neglectod, but her mind was so opon and receptive that she gathered with sincere delight any crumbs of knowledge that her friends might scatter, and gleaned many a precious truth from Miss Grantley's con versation.

A few weeks passed, and it was proposed that we should leave our pleasant quarters, and commence our homeward journey; but to my own surprise, I found that I did not feel any particular interest in the lino of route, or desire to hasten homewards. We visited a few other towns of pretty Switzerland, with whose people, scenery, and climate I declared myself infatuated. Miss Grantley only smiled her own quiet smile at my raptures, for she had found out what I had to learn, the reason of my en chantment. The Ricard family had fol lowed or preceded us to every spot of in terest, and now they also intended return ing by way of Lyons, who|e they had some friends.

It was the last evening of our stay at Geneva. Cora waa busy with Miss Grantley preparing for our depar ture ; and I stroled out to enjoy onco more the matchless scenery of the lako, and as I loitered dreamily amid those scenes of beauty, a little figure passed swiftly by, as though intent on come particular errand. I do not know, I never could explain the impulse that compelled me to follow that little, veiled_ figure, on through the busy street until it vanished within the saloon of the chief hairdresser and perfumer of the town. 1 know it was Cloto, and I told my self that the sole reason of my loitering was the lateness of tho evening, and the desire to escort her safely home through the gathering gloom. Shosoemedrathorlong.lfancied.as I paced up and down on the other side of the street, and at last I thought perhaps I had misaod her and she had gone home alone. To make sure I crossed ovei, and quietly entered the saloon on some trifling pretext, and there, still engaged in earnest conversa tion with the proprietor, stood Cloti, but to my surprise, she had removed hor hat and veil and stood with her beautiful wealth of hair hanging over her shoulders. I pre tended not to observe her as I chatted idly to the attendant, but my heart gave a great bound as I heard her stipulating for a cer tain sum of money which she was to receive in return for her beautiful hair. The bar gain was completed, already the barbarous weapon was raised to strip tho queenly tiara from that maiden brow, when I stepped hastily forward, puree in hand, ex claiming, "No, no, it ia sacrilege. I know this young lady. Her mother will be deeply grieved. Let me buy yaur hair, mam'eelie, bub not one lock of it must bo cut off."

There stood Cloti and the hairdresser. I grew suddenly confused; but drawing her arm in mine, which she quietly allowed, we left the saloon together. Hurriedly re placing her hat, she allowed me to lead her to a secluded place, and then I asked tho reason of the proposed sacrifice. Poor little Cloti! loving little head. I drew out of her at last that her scapegrace brother Rupert had lost heavily at the casino, and feared his uncle's anger ; that he had confided to her his trouble, and she had decided to give him tho only gift she had to bestow—her lovely raven hair. 1 bade her never speak of it more, and assured her that I would find Rupert, and lend him the necessary sum to pay his debt of honour. Grateful, for her brother's sake, little Cloti went up to Miss Grantley's room to enjoy a quiet half-hour's chat with Cora, na it was not very likely we should soon meet again. I saw her just a moment the next morn ing, and told her Rupert was safe. The colour mounted to her cheek, and a soft light beamed in her dark eyes, as we shook hands anipartei. ' Shortly afterwards they went on board the Packet, and I did not meet little Cloti again for many days.

CHAPTER IV.

ONE CHRISTMAS DAY,

By the end of September we were comfort ably settled at home again, and I knew Miss Grantley was glad to be resting once more by her own fireside. "She was not getting younger " she often said, this dear godmother of mine ; but

" That heart of love could ne'er grow old, That noble brow was young and (air; Though silver threads replaced the gold, Mothinks such crowns must angels wear."

Yes, the, crown of her life was love, her sole happiness consisted in making others happy, and co it was that Godmother Grantley grew more beautiful, became more spiritual, as "the silver threads replaced the gold." Con's health was much improved, and,to our supreme satisfaction, itoginald Har court had attached himself to another stay, and the light of a fashionable belle illumined his life.

Before Christmas there carno to our parish a new ciirata, whose sterling nobility and beauty of character attracted Misa Grantley's attention. It was said that Mr Ryder was a talented man, but really too liberal in his views ; in fact, it was even hinted that his Hermans diverged consider ably from the genuine orthodox teaching. Now, the inouinbent was a decidedly ortho dox preacher, telling his listeners with the greatest complacency one Sunday that " the soul that sinneth it shall die," and the next as firmly declaring " there isnone holy, no not one." Therefore, of course, one would infer that the fate of the Rev. Barclay's flock was inevitably sealed. But young Saul Ryder, with his clear eye full of an earnest soulful love of humanity, and hia whole bearing denoting how deeply he realised the fatherhood of his God,' and the Divine germ of love in the hearts of all men, that must assert the grand truth of a fraternal bond that shall yet link the worlds in beauty, and bind the earth to Heaven; this young teacher stood up boldly, and cried to the people, that " God desireth not the death of a sinner," but that He is tho infinite source of love so deep, so broad, so boundless that humanity ia but a tiny speok upon its eternal sea. He taught the "way, the truth, and the life," as it was revealed in Him who was the love of God incarnate. And with truth could this young follower of Christ avow, as he stood in the presence of that love which shed its lustre over his whole life, "the life which I live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God."

It was not to be wondered at that Saul Ryder should very soon occupy a warm nook in a heart so loving as Godmother Grantley V, or that he should become a fre quent visitor at Grantley Avenue, and I was not surprised when I first discovered that our sweet little Cora was the load star that attracted him, and that Miss Grantley seemed quite satisfied that it should be 80, About this time I had a very interesting conversation with my godmother respect ing my future. I need not labour; my income was amply sufficient to support me ; but the question arose. Was such a life desir able, profitable, or calculated to make one happy? Why had Our Father conferred

upon His children the precious gift of life, and all its opportunities and responsibilities, its trials and joys, its gifts and talents ? "So, Edgar," said Mies Grantloy, "it behoves every one to make the beat possible use of life aud all it holds for them, to live as an heir of the ages should live, to strive to so think, speak, and act as to leave the little world in which they live just so much the better for their having lived in it, and to fit themselves for a higher, purer, more progressive, never - ending life in the future." So it was a question to be answered by myself alone. What should I do with my life? At last I decided. I would be a phyaicoan. I would study human nature, its sins and sorrows, its weakness and suffering, its possibilities and ultimates. Body, soul, and spirit, physical, mental, and moral science should be the study of my life. We paseed a blessed Christmas together, Miss Grantley, Cora, Saul Ryder, and I. Ho had chosen the sweetest text for Christ mas morning, "Peace," and we realised in spirit the blessed presence of Him whoso whole life was a beautiful example of the power of love to give peace to the tried soul of troubled humanity, and upraise it towards that blesßed sphere of light and knowledge whence cometh down, like rays of sunlight, the peace that passeth under standing. Aftor New Year I went to London, cs a medical student. Five years passed. I walked tbe hospitals, and learned deep lessons of human nature. I thanked God for the noble teaching.that had led me to this, and for the gift of means to alleviate human suffering. During this time our darling Cora had become the wife of Paul Rydor,and Mies Grantloy's heart was full to overflowing as she decked the bride with her own hands, and gave her a mother's blesaincr.

But I was still alone. I never thought of marriage for myself. My work was my delight, and I was wedded to the cause I loved. But sometimes I thought of one who had crossed my life like a dream, of un selfish service, and unobtrusivo beauty, and wondered whero, in this world of love and sorrow, little Cloti had found a resting place. One Christmas, to my intense disappoint ment, I was quite unablo to return home,and spend the blessed season With those I loved. A very dangerous case obliged mo to re main in London, and I yearned solongingly for the dear old homo at Christmastido.

It was yet early, the service had not commenced; as I wandorod into a retired church, where tho organist was ovidontly practising the music for tho day. Not a soul was visible, as I walked up tho aisle, and took a seat, admiring tho decorations, and wondering how our old church looked this year. Presently a sweet, tremulous voice began to sing, very softly at first, then stronger and fuller, till tho rich, mellow tones swelled through the church, and died »way like the echo of angels' Bong. It was apparont that tho singer thought herself alone, and only sang for the pure love of the sweet music. I listened as one entranced, till presently the bells began their welcoming chime, and the singer ceased. Just then there appeared in front of tho organ a tiny figure, clad in black, and if those deep, earnest eyes of darkest violet belonged to any other than little Cloti, I must indeed havo forgotten tho party at Geneva. A bright flash of recognition as our eyes mot, then a look of inoffablo sadness, and little Cloti was gone. "Gone," and my most ardent inquiries could not discover her retreat. "Gono,"like a flash of sun light on a wintry day, and my heart was lonely. I knew there was no one else in all God's world of beauty that could fill tho void. Only little Cloti could be to me tho crown and beauty of a life of lovo and service. " God help mo find hor ! was tho prayer of my hoart, and surely His minis tering angels did aid me in my search, in spire me with hope and faith, guiding me by a way I knew not.

As soon as possible I went home, and told my best friend all about it, oven as I had been used to do as a child.

She only hold my hand, tight and close, in her own, and said softly, "Edgar, God is working in yon to will and to do His good pleasure, be patient and ask for wisdom, and no good thing will Ho with hold from thee,"

CHAPTER V. THE OTIIEK SIDE,

A few months later I was impelled by some undefinable iutluonce to take charge of an emigrant vessel, bound for Auckland, Now Zealand. The surgeon appointed hail suddenly taken ill and could not go. The oner was made mo, and I aeceptedifc.

"Katheralong summor trip, my boy," said Miss Grantley, when I ran down to fay good'byo ; "but, doubtless, it is for some good purpose, and I know He will give His angels charge concerning theo,"so good-bye, Edgar; writesoon." And with a silent hand pressure we parted. Beautiful faith, that could bear all things, endure all things, and either labour, or bo still, in perfect trust, in humble love, and constant toul communion

Christmas day in New Zealand -sunshine, flowers, and fruit; instead of snow, holly branch, and mistletoe bough. Well, God'.-s world is fair on both sides, but really, Christmas in New Zealand is a most delight ful season.

We had landed the day before Christmas ; andl being relioved ot my charge, wandered but early on Christmas morning, to onjoy the new scenes of beauty spread before mo by Nature's bountiful hand.

I thought of home, and homo friends, and wondered if Miss Grantley had hung up hor customary stockings on Christmas Eve filled liberally with suitabU Christmas tokens for young and old I thought of Cora and her little onas, whose merry laughter would fill the old home with music to day ; and I could not help realising the void in my own lifo, and longing, oh ! so fondly, for one eight of little Cloti's face. I wandered on dreamily, paying little heed to the flight of time, till the increasing heat made me aware of it; and then I began to wonder where abouta in the suburbs of Auckland's beautiful city I had rambled so listlessly. Suddenly I paused before the gateway of a pleasant villa, attracted by the sound of singing ; and there stood spell-bound, listening to the tones of a well remembered voico, as the sweet Christmas carol rang out upon the fresh morning air.

Presently I saw a female figure, poorly clad and evidently worn with privation, ap proach the opened door, and receive, evi dently, a donation ; then turn swiftly away through a eide entrance, and pass from my view entirely. So strong was the impression I had received that I determined to inquire of the inmates concerning the sweet carol singer; and accordingly . bont my steps towards the still open door of the villa. I was met by an elderly lady, ■ who seemed surprised at my oarly visit, but when I informed her that I had como to. New Zealand in aenrch of a loßfc friond, and that I hoped to have found a clue in the sweet carol singer, she became deeply interested, and cordially invited mo to re main to breakfast, and with the aid of what information she could give me, persue the object of my search. I learned froml Mrs Langsdale that the person I had heard singing was a poor sempstiesß, whose earn ings barely sufficed to support herself and an invalid brother, who was afflicted with spinal decease, the result of an accident he had met wfth during one of his wild es capades, he having been a young man of fast habits'and questionable occupation. "The devotion of his sister was beauti ful," said Mrs Langsdale. "No sacrifice' seemed too great for her to make, if Rupert's welfare demanded it."

"Again and again she had rescued him from the consequences of his evil conduct, until, reduced to penury by his extrava gance, she bad been obliged to labour in the factory of Messrs Jewell and Stitchard for a bare livlehood. Then the accident oc curred which rendered him an invalid for life, but bo changed his character that the devoted sister seemed scarce to sorrow over her added burden, in the joy of his reclama tion.

He was not entirely helpless, however, and while his Bister was absent at the factory, his busy fingers were engaged fashioning beautiful figures of art which adorned many a niche in the richer neighbour's dwelling. Still it was a severe struggle to obtain the means they needed ; and so it was, that this Christmas morning, the devoted sister had gone out to use the beautiful gift with which nature had endowed her, and win a few shillings for Rupert's Christmas cheer. ■

There were a few houses where she was well-known and liberally patronised, and Mrs Langsdale's mam.er inferred that her sisterly devotion .was not unrewarded. Then I told my story, and together we resolved to bring Christmas blessing to that humble home. ' •■>■•'

I think the remainder would be better told by allowing the reader to peruse a portion of a letter which Cloti wrote to Miss Grantley a few weeks later.

"It was a struggle against pride, and perhaps a false delicacy, bat I bad no alternative. Either my darling brother must want those little delicacies that seem

to belong exclusively to Christmas, or I must use the only talent 1 possess to obtain the means to procure them. Lovo pre vailed, and I went out that bright morning, all unaware of the blessings in store for my lonely heart, and the sweet recompense for the small self-sacrifice of an hour.

" As I sang before the open windows of an esteemed friend, I had another listener, one for whose sake I would have sung my sweetest carol, if only I could have ensured being unobserved by him, whose life seemed far too noble for me to share. I had not seen him since that Christmas morning in the Church at Soho, when his eager, inquiring glance told me plainly as words that I was beloved and sought after, but I dared not let him find me, lost Rupert, who had no friend but "littlo Clot," in those days of wayward folly, ' should fly from my feeble protection and plunge into some fresh evil. By great persuasion I prevailed on Rupert to seek with me fresh scenes and associations in New Zealand, where no one would know him; whero life would proaent a clean page, with the possibility of roform and noble attainment. Our mother was dead, our uncle would not own Rupert, and all our friends looked with deep regret upon the step I had taken, in makicg myself tho sharer of his wayward life. But my heart yearned over him who had been our father's darling, and some thing always told me that love would win, and Rupert would be reclaimed.

" Dear friend, you little know what an in fluence yonr teachings had overthis portion of my life ; how often my heart wavered, and then grew strong again for love's sweet duty, as some well-remembered truth you had taught me presented itsolf to my, mind, and I often almost realised your pre sence a3 I recalled tho conversations we had had in tho pleasant parlour at Lucorno. " For a while I had great hopos of Euport, but ob ho became acquainted with other young mon at the warehoueo whore ho was omployed, ho relapsed into his former wild habits, nnd often I had to weep bitter tears over his dissipation and oxcoss. Then en mo tho accident, and nil was changed. Weak in body, my darling grow strong in soul, and became tho daily comfort of my arduous lifo

" But now all is changod. The clouds of privation and anxiety aio lifted, and tho sunlight of Edgar's love is poured into my hoart. Yes, he found our humble home and sharod our Christmas dinner. Ho told me tho story of his great lovo, and listened to tho tale Rupert poured into his willing ear. Then wo went away from that narrow stroot for ever, away to kind Mrs Langs dale's pleasant homo, from which wo aro to be married to-morrow. To-morrow ! I scarco can write for happiness, and then Rupert, Edgar and I aro coming home to England, and I shall see your doar face again, and be able to thank you for all the lossons of lovo you taught your poor littlo Cloti."

We were married, my little brown lovo and I, and Rupert, noble fellow, seemed to share our happiness to such an extont that I have great hopes of his permanent re covory under the united care of " Doctor Edgar," as bo calls mo, and loving littlo Cloti.

We shall bo with Mies Grantley next Christmas, I hopo, and sho will hang another stocking up, tilled with love's kind offerings for hor old pet, and new goddaughter, little Cloti. We are so happy, and our Now Year appoars so laden with ovory blessing that I cannot rofrain from expressing my gratitude to tho Almighty Father, and uniting with my darlings in wishing all my readers an oqually " blesaod Christmas and happy New Year."

I.S. — Years havo passed sinco that Mossed Christmas morning, when I found my darling in that far off-land. JDonr God mother Grantloy livod to give us a cordial welcome homo, and share our happiness ovor the birth of another Lilian Grantley, who came to us the following Now Year's morning. Cora and her noble husband still live engaged in active service for Him who first brought tho glad tidings of good • will to men. Rupert has become au artist of soino repute, and my littlo Cloti rojoices daily over her noblo brother's works of beauty.

A beuutiful painting hangs in our library representing a guardian angol watching over a reckloss youth, who is engaged in playing a game of whist with Mephie topheles Our beloved godmother lived to a good old ago; full of grace and beauty, beloved and regretted by all. Sho gently passed away one quiet Sabbath eve, painlessly, peacefully, the angel of His presence bore her loving spirit over tho narrow border line men call Death, which was to hor but the entering into a new life of love and beauty, whotico her pure spirit still watches lovinglyovertboee who wore so dear to her in tho nosh.

Our little Lilian is growing so like her, and Rupert in going to paint another picture irom momory, representing our bo loved angel mother watching over hor nameling at play. Sweet thought, that oven now as the Christmas chimes ring out their swoet molody, tho angols liager lovingly over this sin-stricken, sorrow laden world, singing yet again the joyous anthem of old—

" Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Mex."

ETIQUETTE OF THE BOW.

A Code of Rules All tho Way from

Paris.

A veby witty and intelligent Parieionno, of high social rank, has recently declared aa follows: "Gentlemen should always bow first to tho ladies, nurses and priests Un hommc bim fJcvc will salute tho host, religious funerals, the Hag of a parting regiment. Nuns and priests should bo ealuted everywhere, but in tbo case of a lady the place where she is met with decides whether she is to bo saluted or not. Whenever a gontleman meets a lady of his acquaintance in a public place he should uncover completely in saluting her; if he speaks to herheshould remain uncovered un tilshe requests him to replace his hat. If the lady is riding in a carriage ho should always salute her, but if she is on foot ho should wait until she has manifested by a erlance of recognition that she desires his salutation. At the race?, in the Bois, in the public promenades, gentlemen should palute with out waiting for recognition, but they should not return tho salute ovsry time they meet tho lady in the same place during the same day. When a man meets a woman in a stairway, no ma'tor to what class of society she may belong, he should faupe, remove his hut, and wait until sho has passed. Louis XIV Balutod all women withuut making any distinction, and uncovoied himself on the stairways of his palace, even when tho woman who passed him was ono of the maid servants. A doplorablo custom has been recontly introduced into tho theatres ; it is that of goutlomon keep ing tholr hata on while they are talking to a lady at the door of hor box. At tho theatre a man should never bo the first to salute a lady, but wait until by hor recog nition she has authorised it. If she speaks to him he should not, no matter how much sho insists, replace his hat on his head until he leaves her. It is not obligatory to call in at tho boxes of all tbo ladies you may know. For a man who goes out a great deal this would be im possible ; bosides, you should not enter a ladies' box at the theatre until you have satisfied yourself that it is not already over crowded with visitors; it is also the correct thing to enter a box only when you are ac quainted with all the ladies in it. A man should salute ladies as' they are coming out of church, but never inside it, unless tie is encouraged by a glance of recognition, for a woman should never be disturbed in her religious meditations. If a gentleman meets a lady on tho arm of another with whom he is not acquainted, he should not salute unless her manner encourages him to do so, and then he should confine his salute to a profound bow and pass on without stopping. If ihe lady speaks, the gentleman on whose arm she is leaning should make a slight movement as though to hold himself to one eide, and it is the place of the lady to introduce the two men ; although she need not do so unless she wishes. If two gentlemen are together and one bows to a lady tho other should never bow ; to do so is to Bhow a lack of tact and an impertinent desire to be presented.— Correspondence " N.O. Picayune."

Mrs Bascom gays she doesn't care for those fancy stained-glass windows of dif ferent colours. She is satisfied with a plain bay Window.

A Wise Deacon.—"Deacon Wilder, I want you to tell me how you kept yourself and family so well the past season, when all the rest of us have been sick bo much, and haye bad the doc tors running to us so often." " Brother Taylor, tho answer is very easy. I used Hop Bitters in time, and kept my family well, and saved large doctor's bills. Four shillings'worth of it kept us all well and able to work all the time, and I will warrant it hag coat you and moat of the neighbours £10 to £100 apiece to keep siok the same time. I fancy you'll take my medioliM \raa.ftAT. Sofl.

"ROUGH ON CORNS."_Ask tor WelUVHoueh on Corns." Quick relief, complete, permanent cure. Come, warta, bullions, . _. I«npthora«,Pra«u:*C!!., Agents Auoklmtt

Ladies' Column.

Women as Actresses.

There seems no doubt that aotreaeea did not perform on the stage till the Restora tion, in the earliest years of which Pepys eaya for the first time he saw an actress upon the stage. Charles 11. must have brought the usage from the continent, whore wome\n had long been employed iuutead of boys or youths in the representa-! tion of female characters. Tom Coryat, in his "Crudities on Travels," 1611, as Mr Lee says, saw actresses performing on the stage at Venice. John Chamberlain, in a letter to Dudley Carleton,. 1602, relates a hoax or swindle played upon the public by a person who proposed, at a high price of entrance, to exhibit actresses in a theatre. Chamberlain ventures to think he had heard of actresses before in England Mr Leo says women did perform in masques which were played .before royalty or among the aristocracy to persons of nobility. Henry VIII. is mentioned in the' 'Chronicles" of Hall, 1512, as having introduced masques into England, and having taken part in them himself. Edward 111. however, is said to have given precedent to the dramatic maeque which flourished during the six teenth century in England. Masques are said to have been tak'en from Italy. Henry VIII. with a Spanish wife who participated in them, may, however, have been adopting the marmora of Spain and Portugal. In stances of women acting in plays, and of royal personages taking their part in them, are afforded in Portugal by Gil Vicente, who in the beginning of the six teenth century wrotedramas in the Castillian language, which gave rise to the Spanish theatre and anticipated Lope do Vega and Shakspero by nearly a century. It is re lated of him : "Bis plays were enacted at the court of King Emmanuel, and the first of them was performed in 1504. They had great success, which increased during the reign of Emmanuel's successor, John 111, who oftonplayod a part in them. It appears that Gil Vicente acted himself in his drama, and it is certain that his daughter Paula (lady of honour to a royal princess) was the first dramatic porformer of her time in Portugal." Gil Vicente wrote autos or rolglious plays, comedies, tragi-comedies and' farces. Being the only dramatic author of his time, ho gained a European reputation,and Erasmus learned Portuguese in order to read his works. It appoars, thereforo, that in 1602 the public were net avoreo to seeing actresses on the stago, as in thtir disappointment they wreaked ven geance oa the furniture of tho theatre, breaking to pieces what was in it This was different from what happened nearly thirty years afterward, in 1629, when, as Mr Collier relates, a French company were not permitted by the public to perform bocause they had actresses to fill women's parts. This marks the progress of Puri tanism.—"Notes and Queries."

One of Bertha Clay's.

It was a cottagooverlookingthesea. From its door, over which the roses climbed, one could look out on the white-winged ships sailing to and fro, and down upon a beach on which the waves were ever gently break ing. [Tho only drawback was the {act that old Smith had a mortgage on the said cot tage, and that the sewerage- about the place was defective.] It was early in the morning. The bright sun was just rising from his bod in the blue, blue Eoa; the lark rose from the meadow and soared toward heaven ; tho low of kine was heard on ovory hand, and the silent watches of night were about to give place to tho bustle of a glorious day. One who stood and drank in the picture would have been entranced.

[It dooßn't cost a cent to get that way, and it is twenty per cent cheaper than working up an enthusiasm by tho use of lager beor. | Suddenly the door was opened and a inorry laugb was heard. The fair Ethel had loft her couch to greet the rising sun. as she stood amidst the roses, her Drown eyes sparkling with enthusiasm—her cheeks glowing with health—her golden hair lighted up by the beams of the morning sun, she was tho picture of a quean.

[I had forgotten to Bay that aho had a sylphliko form. This is an oversight for which I can never forgive myself, and I hope the reader will not bear down in malice.]

Even the lark paused in his flight to look back at the boautiful picture, and the bluebirds which flitted from rose to rose sang sweeter songs, as if to honour her. For a moment the fair Ethel stood thus, and then she descended the steps and glided toward the gate.

[She wasn't on roller skates,but "glided " is an expression which I hunted for half a day, and which I am determined to use if it breaks a leg.] At the gate she paused. Once more sho surveyed the placid sea—the romantic boach—the rosy eastern horizon. She was alone with nature for the moment. Her bosom heaved, her eyes grew brighter, and it was evident that the inspiration was on her. She was about to speak. Just at tho instant when her ruby- lips were about to part, there was a bang on tho cottage door, and a gruff voice called out: " What in blazes are you doing out here when your mother is sick and I want break fast in a hurry ?"

Tho long eyelashes of the boautiful Ethel hid the sparkle of hor eyes; her classic chin drooped ; a look of sorrow crossed her face. For a moment she stood the picture of despair, and the stoutest heart must have been melted at her attitude. Then* she sweetly answered: "

" I stuck my hunk of gum on the gate post last night, and I'll be jugged if some slab-sided slug of humanity hasn't come along and gobbled it!" [This story didn't have any villain1 in it. There was no love. There were no grievous trials for anyone to pass through, and no narrow escapes to chill the blood. The sole idea was to make the world better.] "Detroit Free Press." >! ■''■'■

Wasted No Time.

Some one has estimated that the timo thrown away in this world in courting; the girl you want to marry', who is really to marry you, would build all tho railroads and bridges and tunnels and factories and public buildings. The white race shou'd take a lesson in this from tho coloured people. The other day a likoly young coloured man stood at a gate in Birmingham, Ala. A likely young coloured woman came' along with a dog. " Hi, dar !" he called, " but mobbe you want sell dat dog." "No, Bah." , " Mebbe y6ur name is Lucinda !" - "Yes, sah." *, ; " I allors dote on dat name. Ize called Gawgo." , . "Dats pleasin'." " Ize lookin', you'know.?" ' - ■ "Y-yes." . : ' "Got money saved up, ana atidy job ahead. Shall I speak to de ole man ?"' . "He's in Orleans ',' .' " Den I'll see de die woman." "She's dead." - ['""'.■'. " Wall, den I'll ax you to be my wife right now 4." . " You's fooiln'," "Deed no." ; . ;. ..

" Hain't got nobody else ?" "Nobody^ 'tall." "Reckon we'll hitch?" " 'Cose we will-cant help it." " Wall, den, I'll say yes, an' to-night you come down to Mrs Grumley's kitchen an' we'll sot de day an' sorter git acquainted." " Lucinder, I—;'"' ; ■ "Go'long, Gawge! Ize dun said yes, an1 dats 'nuff. Come airly." " So long, 'Cinda !" "By-by, Gawge !"—"New York Sun."

Holding the Mirror to Nature.

We were discussing mirrors the other day, at Grey's, and the question arose as to whether it was hotter to have a flattering one or tho roverso. Maud thought the latter would be better, as then you knew the worst about yourself, arid if you heard any adverse opinion expressed as to your looks, you wouldn't mind. I was not at all of her way of thinking. In the first place, the ugliest woman in the world would mind if she heard people say even that she was not pretty. In the second, I think it in duces good humour to have a nice, flatter ing looking-glass, that makes the best of you and puts you on good terms with yourself. Madeline thought thai an uncom promisingly true one would be the best of all, and perhaps she is right. But, then, Madeline in very handsome, and when, her mirror tells the truth it tells her what she is, so she m,ay be well pleased with its ver dict.'—"Girl's Gossip in London 'Truth.'"

Married People Would be Happier.

If home troubles were never told to a neighbour. , , If expenses were proportioned to re- Ces '"they tried to be as agreeable as in courtship days. , If each would try and be a support and comfort to the other. If each remembered the other was a human being, not an angol. If each was as kind to the other as when they were lovers. . . . If fuel and provisions wero laid in during the hightide of summer work. If both parties remembered that they married for worse as well as for better. _ If men were as thoughtful for their wives as they were fcr their sweethearts. If there were fewer silk and velvet street costumes, and more plain, tidy house dresses. .. , If there were fewer " please darlings in public and more common manners in private. , . . If masculine bills for Havanas and femi nine ditto for rare lace were turned into the general fund until such times as they could be incurred without risk. If men would remember that a woman cannot be always smiling who has to cook tho dinner, answer the door bell half a dozen times, and get rid of a neighbour who has dropped in, tend a sick baby, tie up the cut finger of a 2-year old, tie up the head of a 6-year old on skates, and get an 8-year old ready for school, to say nothing of sweeping, cleaning, dusting, etc. A woman with all this to contend with may claim it as a privilege to look and feel a little tired sometimes, and a word of sympathy would not be too much to expect from the man who, during the honeymoon, would not let her carry as much as a sun shade.—" New York Mail and Express."

How a Man Does Shopping.

"You'd better put them down on a piece of paper," said Mrs 8., when about to give her first order. "Oh, no,"said MrS., "my memory is good." " Well, then," began Mrs S., "a spool of 60 Coatos's black thread." " Yes," paid Mr S. "A yard of not too light and not 100 dark calico." "Yes." " A small hammer, a can of peaches, a dozen small pearl buttons, two yards of cardinal ribbon, Bilk on one side and satin on the other." " Yes," said Mr S. thoughtfully. " A pair of slippers for baby, a dozen lemons, a good tooth-brmh.a pineapple.two ounces of sky-blue Germantown yarn, an ounce vial of homceopatbic nux vomica pellets, a—" "Wait a second," said Mr S., counting on his fingers and looking perplexed. " A bottle of vanilla extract, ani a yard of triple box-plaited crepe liese ruching, and three yards of small-checked nainsook, and—"

But Mr S,, bad seized his hat and was running for the station.

What the poor man brought home was a yard of bed-ticking, three yards of black crape, a bottle of vinegar, eight yards of nankeen, a scrub-brush, a pound of green yarn, sixty spool? of " coat thread," a yard of very black calico, and a pint bottle of homoeopathic pilla. " There, my dear," he said, triumphantly throwing down his numorous package?, " I don't think you'll find a thing missing. Who says a man can't do shopping ? My memory never played me false yet."— "Chicago Tribune."

Queen Victoria's Ceremonious ness.

General Badeau, formerly American Consul at London, writes thus about Queen Victoria :—" She dtill exacts for herself the punctilio of former centuries. Men and women of the highest rank kneel to her to day. Cabinot Ministers kiss her hand. She refusos to receive any personal service from a menial except at table. Dukes and Duchesses cloak her in public, and com moners become ' honourable' for life because they hare waited upon Her Majesty. At a garden parly, I have seen a Duchess walking behind her to carry a bouquet, oratandingat the entrance of a tent while her mistress went within to rest or refresh herself. The Sovereign's own daughters arrange her robes when she opens Parliament; the Prince of Wales pays homage as a subject on the same occasion; her children must be presented at Court on their marriage. In the early part ot her reign she was visiting Louis Phillippo, then King of the French, at the Chateau d'Eu, and one day asked for a glass of water. It was handed her by a servant, but Her Majesty declined to receive it; whereupon the King directed one of his own sons to offer the goblet, which was then graciously accepted.

Wonderful Presence of mind.

The story of a young woman who wound up her letter to a friend with : " P.S. — I forgot to tell you I was married," is matched. Mies Kate , of Dubuque, re cently consented to adopt the name of a gentleman friend, and so they were married. Sho is in Chicago now, and is stopping at the . Loland Hotel. The other day she mode some purchases at Field's, and, in going, she said: " You may send them home for me, Miss Kate -.Leland Hotel." Sho had reached the sidewalk before she recollected she had given her maiden name With admirable wit, she stepped back and aaidto the clerk, "Oh, by the way, send that package to Miss Kate -, care of Mrs , Leland Hotel," and . ehe swept out of the store as if she had been married for fifteen years.

In Brief.

Girls can "marry at the age of 11 years in the State of Maine.

The Princess of Bavaria, who married the Duke of Orleans, refuted the idea that women cannot keep a secret, by preserving to the time of her death the receipt for cooking red cabbage, which was one of the most prized and fashionable vegetables in the time of Louis XV.

', A young woman who wants to be a teacher ia touched' for by the local paper as "paßt! the giggling age," but as "not too old to be a very agreeable companion." Mrs John C. Green, widow of the Prince ton College patron, is worth £2,000.000. Iri Canada and Australia Qusen Victoria is known as "the Queen." In India she ia called " the Empress." A New York physisian has written ah article entitled " Kissing bb a Medium of Communicating Disease." It has long been known that kissing caueos a species of heart disease, which terminates in matri monial fever, and the viotim dies sooner or later. Generally later.

John Boyle O'Reilly says : " Women are better than men becauso they are spiritual, while men are intellectual. The spirit fol lows what is true, gentle and good ; the in tellect [follows only what is pleasant, suc cessful, dominating, stronjj. If women could rule, civilisation would be a poem " Mrs Langtry, not satisfied with the natural colour of her hair, which waß beauti ful, and of which she took incessant care has painted it a kind of reddish colour— which, it appeare, is becoming the fashion in Paris—and has much injured her appear ance. ' " ••■:•■•■■■■

Mrs Garfiold often visits the grave of her illustrious husband and sends floWers once a week to be placed upon hia coffin. * , : M. Penali, a portrait-painter in Lyons, was engaged to be married to Mile. Ber nard, and a few days before the time fixed , for the wedding he said to hia fiancee, "I hope you have paid deference to my anti pathy and ordered all your clothes without a bustle." The girl smiled and replied, Sooner than wear a wedding-drees with out a tournure I shall never wear "any at all. . The artißt earnestly protested, and nnally told her she must choose between him and her devotion to fashion. The re sult was not.in his favour, and he left the same evening foi Egypt. The Austrian Empress has had a splendid hunting palace built in the forests of Schoen brunn that is described ao a marvel of luxurious decoration. Its- architecture is that of the modern renaissance period bteps of white Italian marble lead to the Empress's rooms on the second story, upon which the best painters of the empire have lavished their art. Makart planned the bedroom frescoing. •Sir George Ballingall, when in India, witnessed a striking proof of the utility of flannel m checking the progress of a most aggravated form of dysentery. Such ex perience led to a general enforcement of the use of flannel belts or wraps by soldiers when on service in tropical climates. At a recent wedding, the organist created some amusement by interpolating " Prithee, little maiden, will you marry me?" from in tSSmony 1! 18 "^ ** * P°int

For the Young Folks.

JUVENILE LITERATURL

The New Seasons Stories and Christmas

Gift Books for Children,

[Fkom our London Correspondent.]

The New Season's Gift Books i'or Boys and Girls — Lucky Youngsters — Old Days—what to choosk-Embarras de Uichksse-Tue Success ok the Autumn— "King Solomon's Minks" —a Sto.iy foi'nded on an african leoitnd—worth 800 novels—The "Saturday Hbview'b" Opinion — Boys' Books— Hknty's New Tales-Captain Gordon Staple's "Polk to Polk " — Julkb Vebne—"From Tan Yard to White House"—Tales of tcnooL Life — Mischievous Books — Annuals - Giiils' Books—children's Picture Books -Miss Kdwardks and Kate Greenaway —Caldecotte Novelties — Mhs Ewing's Talks—New Editions, &c, &c.

London, November 5. The fact that Xmas will be close at hand when the outgoing mail reaches New Zea land has suggested to me that a chat about the new season's gift books for boys and girls, large consignments of which are even now on the way out, may not bo inappro priate. How lucky tho youngster who glories in a good story is nowadays. Wo had no such booka when I was a lad. Mayne Reid was certainly at work then, and so wero Anne Bowman and Miss Yonge j but, besides being costly, really high-class tales, well illustrated, appeared seldom. This winter tho great difficulty of tho children, or the parents selecting for them, seems likely to be what to choose amidst such an embarras de rkhcsse. Barely half the volumes announced are outup to thepresent, and vet tho other afternoon, as I. turned over the glittering piles of showily-bound volumes in the " juvonile department" at a popular Strand bookseller's, I thought I should never come to tho end of them. Luckily, however, works of exceptional merit soon achieve a reputation in London, and it is with them chiefly I propose to deal hero.

The tale par excellence of tho season, one that like Mr R L. Stevenson's " Treasure Island" will be read by both youngsters and adults, is "King Solomon's Mines," the work of Mr Bider Haggard, whose novel " The Witch's Head " scored a success about twelve months ago. The story deals with a South African legend, to the effect that fat inland, beyond a trackless desert, from which no traveller ever returned alive, there exists a fertile and beautiful country, peopled by a race not unlike the Zulus, and possessing in its midst the famous diamond mountain mines from which King Soloman obtained most of his jewels. A young man named Curtis, fired by the Zulu legends and hopeful of plunder, resolves to pene trate this unknown region, and seta off across the fatal desert accompanied by one Zulu. 12 months elapse without anything being heard of him, and then his brother, Sir Henry Curtis, backed by a retired naval captain named John Good, by Allen Quartorraaine, a trapper, and by Umbopa, a giant Zulu, deterrnino to go in search of him. How they prepared for the journey, " trek" to the outskirts of civilisation, cross tho waterless desert after fearfulsufferings,and penetrate the Kekuana country, only to meet with adventures of an unparalleled and delightful character, I leave you to find out. As the "Saturday Review," wintiing up an eulogistic two column notice, said, "King Solomon's

Mines" is worth a cartload of average novels. Its vigorous and picturesque narrative, full of fighting, hunting, and adventnrea, described in good nervous English by a writer who obviously knows the heart of South Africa well, should en thrall both young and old. The book is neatly but not very magnificently bound, and priced at five shillings. Another capital boys' . book, blending

instruction with entertainment, revives the adventures of a Roman youth " Two Thou sand Years Ago." It is by Professor Church, whose " Storios from the Classics " have

assisted many a youngster to take an in terest in ancient History. The cover is particularly gorgeous and tasteful, the illustrations Dy Adrian Marie admirable. (Blackie and Sons, 65.)

Mr G. A. Henty, the dashing war corres^ pondent, ia once more to the front with "For Name and Fame," a story deal-

in{* with the late war in Afghanistan

•• Through the Fray," a tale of the Luddite Riots; and "The Lion of the North," a semi-historic romance dealing with the times of Gustavus Adolpbus. All these are 5s bookp, and there is little to choose amongst them. Mr Henty is a great favour ite with boye, but few " grown upß " can stomach his florid style. Capt. G. Staples is a really good "boys'author " A gorgeous cover and fascinating illustrations of hair raising episodes are not the only at tractions of " From Polo to Pole," his

tale of yachting in Arctic regions. Captain Staples has been North himself, and can rely on experience to assist imagination. This air of realism is, to my mind, what makes a story readable. I never can get through more than a few pages of Jules Verne's romances. They are euch obviously "vampedup" affairs. (Hedder and Stoughton, ss). Boys who enjoyed the chatty life of Presi dent Garfield, entitled "Prom Log Cabin to White House," will doubtless find equal entertainment in the same author's " From the Tanyard to White House," a vigorously written and highly-toned sketch of Grant's career (Hodder and Stoughton, ss). This is, perhapp, as good a present as one could make 'to a lad whose ambition requires stirring. He won't enjoy it as well as one of Heutey's books, perhaps, but it'll do him good. Stories about school life are frequently such pernicious twaddle, I hesitate to re commend them. Who, for example, can moaßure the mischief Canon Farrar's " Eric " has done a certain class of boy ? If I were looking after a youngster, I think I should give him "Tom Brown" to read, and then as far as possible interdict tales of school life. No doubt some are fairly wholesome. From a carnal glance, I should Bay there was not much harm in "Who was Philip?" by Bey. H. C. Adams (Griffith and Farrar, ss), and "Follow My Leader " (Cassells, ss). -

Other boys' books I am able of my of own personal knowledge to recommend are:— " Escaped from Siberia," by Henry Frith, 6s; "The King of the Tigers," by Roub solet, 5s ; and '-The Fate of the Black Swan," 3s 6d, by Mr Frankfort Moore, whose- " Mutiny on the Albatross " ■ was so much liked last year (3a 6d). The "Boy's Own., Annual," Ss, and " Routledge's Evory Boy's Annual," 6e, are too well-known to_ require description. The latter has, I think, fallen considerably behind the times. Jules Verne's "Aeraban'the Inflexible," its leading, serial, is the dreariest rubbish', Girla aro nofc as well off as boys in the matter of books this year. I can, however, commend " The Last Hope," by Esme Stuart; " A Great Revenge," by .Mary S Awell; and Miss Manue Dickens's sketch of her father's life in Cassells'a Is " World's Workers " series.

Beautiful new picture ' books abound. The prettiest I have seen yet is issued by Marcus Ward's, and affords some of the finest specimens of delicate colour-printing and Bteel engraving I have ever seen. The engraving, I fancy, must be American work, but the colour pictures are designed by Misa M. E. Edwardes, a lady who has, I think, a freer and more original pencil than even Kate Greonaway. This book is called "Through the Meadow," the let terpress being some pretty verses by Weatherly (price ss). Under the title "Marigold," Kate Greonaway provides another charming picture book full of the quaint little lads and lasses we have come to know bo well,;. There is, however, nothing at all original in it (Routledge, 6s). Buyers preferring freshness will probably prefer Alice Havers's sepia illustrations of Anderson's "White Swan " (6s), or the less expensive "Tales from tho Chimney Cor ner," in blue and white (3s 6d). Mr Qoldeeott, of course adds two more to his inimitable series of Is picture books, and has also illustrated Mrs Ewing's popu lar " Whob-lie-by-theFire; or the Luck of Linborough," which the E.P.C.K: now publish in the same form as "Jackanapes " and "Tho Story ,of a Short Life." If you don't u kuow the two last named, let me persuade you to ask for them at once ; they .are ideal tales for little ones. Mrs Ewing understood children better even than Mrs Molesworth or Miss Montgomery. Notable new editions just out of " Trea sure Island," " Gulliver's Travels " (capital illustrations), Mrs Gatty's " Parables from Nature " (complete in a cheap form), and " The Boy's Own Book." In my notes on boys'stories, I omitted to mention Mr George Manville Fenn's " Patienoo Wins," a tale of factory life in the black country, and " Nigel Lennox of Glen Trom,"a serious high-toned story by Mr N. L. Hyde (Hodder and Stoughton, O8)t .. . ■■ ,

A Wolf's Affections.

until &^?3SR^»fiJ5 the menagerie at Paris. kS,?*^ lto it was so disconsolate at *L "*6Ter»l »«,v tto master, who LadSm^™«£ and so pereirteatf■dS^l«BS was feared it wouiadll6afood.th»| Eventually, however its «i;. '< it took its food, andwaf^ ef moderated, forgotten its forme? ol^r PJ^ to C piration of eighteen mo^fi^ The wolf recognised hia wrf crowd in the gardens S** *wid tk leased from S*«t him, e?h>biting the most viSf toWi *l Again separated from m. W" faithful animal was oZ »■■"*».*»■■ on the former oc^asToV^^M absence of three years, tbTit Bf ter'• affection again returned to PajfaTi Of * the gardens. "'WdYßftej It was evening, the wnlf'» a . • shut up for theilighVbuStft, 11^ man's vo.ce was aadibl^, the JS**,** began to utter such an X iou7c& I1>»l door of its cage waa n ™ j *hatthe darted toward ite ffi, ,S' wh» t and caressed him, friehteS^io^'^ as they attempted^Slhe^ When its old master finZ uTv animal bee.me ill, refused Si ?Zi V *ie though it recovered after a lon^?1 '**-■ gradually became fierce anri rfiP* >' resented the familiaritfes ofSi&Pttet especially of strangers. tot8' N

Little Becky.

"Whatdo you want. Baplref" ,j ■ ! Wilkins, the proprietor o7"|LtlJoß as he came to the door of his mMW a breath of /reah air. The S* : the house eomewhat stifled h? I S P? e? <lf childhood's hours, and such teKl* 0 brances had come over him tteSSriSi" before him waa not met, as utoaPv* 1^ curse. , al> *«ha "My chocs don't look vorv n t M . they ?" said Becky, as she s<X2i*1 0' such a position that he MBa * a ffi!: to see the ragged covering of her W?? shabby indeed. ■ TWT " Look rather bad, little eirl- h,,t haven't told me what you &#?» your father?" glancing-heslfcating^! figure lying in a drunken heap in &L* "Ive come to see yon. fir J M^ know I've been going to Sunday '' Sunday school I" heexolahned S involuntarily at the little oneVSX gown. . i wMJrsa

« ou'-, have some other things a t v., Mrs Ch.lleon gave them to mey bat X them for fear they won't look iaim™ Sundays. We have such a mod «n£ there, singing and praying," " Praying!" ; "Yes, and the last tiinel was than. MrsChilleon told me somethinrttiS done me so much good. She said toil when we prayed we must beiWfkdi would erive us what we asked for. ThatV faith, you know. What do you think I'm <; been doing all morning ?'■ " I donT know, I'm sure." " Well, I've been out therein tbd Woodi praying that you'd shut up this saloon and be better, and let other: men'be better Then I thought I'd come over and Bee when you intended to do it." Tha man started as though he had been stung, and then a euapiciious moistureWaa to creep over his eyes. • " Come here, little girl," he saidloftily Taking the child in hisarms, hewentto'i the prostrate figure in tie corner,ibd a iwt vigouroue shakes brought Becky's fitte to his feet. • ;! : . ,<- . "Mon !" called Joe's'ringing' Tofe ai some dropped the card?they wereenniini!J while others set down the glaaaestbey %en about to raise to theirlips.iand listened, "Take off your hats, every "oiie of yon, Now, I'd rather see-you all get'dmmojl your knees, but being as we' are 'ill m wicked, maybe we'd better Btand, Now, Becky, say that prayer you said ;<i !jn woods." Without a moment's hesitation the <AM knelt in the midst of them. Many ama felt his eyes grow dim and a big lump in his throat, especially when tha child asked with such sweet trustfulness that each on; there might see that .he wan doiigttry wrong to drink so much aud let tho-a home suffer. "I want every one of you to go komo now, and mind, you needn't come back, for Joe Wilkinshas sold his last glass c I wish I could return to you what you turn lost here—not only yoiir money, but yow lost manhood :! The men filed out with downcast liesdr, but Joe Wilkinß from his station at tho window saw that each one (hook hmdsvrith Becky's father and bestowed soiiif/tokSi upon the child ere they parted. •"And a child eball lead them,'" Bid the watcher, as he turned away; - Sund ay morning dawned clear and bright) and Becky, who had persuaded her fate to go to church with her, stopped as % were passing the " Retreat." "I'll be back in a moment, t*ajsa. JJ«ha said ; and Joe Wilkina was eurpnwjia'liii gloomy meditations upon a iflissponi life by feeling a little hand steal vritMu bis own. '■ ■ ■ ' ■■■■■. ' i _ " Papa is going to church," BuMartiliH* voice, " arid I want you to come, loo." " Me go to church !" cried the vm,m ing a despondent face as be spoko. " Yes, indeed ! - Mrs Ghillson said Wgirt you to come if I possibly could," " Then I'll go,' was the answer; aid « she joined her iathSr outside, hematliaiilC' ful to know that there weft tru'tfCbniifuM, in the world who could'eraM» helping hand toward the two who M tons: been outcasts from society.— "'Jbasi stwS Homo" . :

r-rrr?'.:>->'7v-

Little People.

The little one made a beautiful wiwr without knowing It* ."'What!-M**** homely man as papa?1' said '• the "mam* fun. "Oh, but papa is'real prcttjtam heart," was the reply. Mabel (to her grandpa)-And csn»« really remember George IV! GBjpi- Yes, little one j you see I stp b gooo «8« older than you are. Mabel-How-WCS older must I grow before I iballta«bleto, remember him ? Little Mabel was saying ber ■prjyentbe other night, and had concludod'tte'iiimi petitions for earthly WesainKS for bewii and family, wheri she suddenlyW«M,«» looking lip into her mother's fM^"l".- --"There is one thing more IwrattoM* for, mamma ; can IP™ "Oirtainly.if jtu nothing wiokedj" was 'the,t»PW|HK l iif the little one proceeded: " And v»m a» our folks stylish, amen."' ' .

A True Ghost Story.

The following is a ehoßtetory with ««* more foundation in fact-than mob F*™ usually possess ■>-: > , „ „„.» On the. road'leading from-»g«"^ Mass., to Mt. Everett is a house vW w once the home of. a «»» "^Pf 1 *« of u, murdered by the insubordinateww ««■ ship. After that event, on his wife and daughter used to be ttW" by sounds of creaking ™H sails, clanking chains,' ™d .other »«»» sounds, which seemed to come W«jJ garret. Above all the rest of;*•*?£ turmoil whoever.was downirtaiHi«g p «J angry voices, groans, and enwiioeh r^ great many P"^. house on stormy nights to near w accountable and- alarming garret, but no one ever h adaytragn »W to open the garret door *?\Kf£fl the mystery °™o<f °°Xr '" the widow and her r^« Twilcb house, the doors and window or w were boarded up. m u d AH this took place fifty, ■W.gW but few who have seen therunw i know: its singular history. , A «" ago a Mrs Melius,a grajd &W"LLi a old captain, living In I*™ft "*£, letter from aßaUorfromaSou^^" „, port, who said that ho was on mjv her grandfather on *? »|K cap*l" latter was killed; hei «aid that toe wanted him togo to EgremontaM"^ wife and daughter **»< J1' fl Xl W» murdered, and thatenoughmpwyn«. wp buried in one cornerof the oouar them in comfortaUthe^*£%.tii The sailor went **f***&imk promised, but resolved to bave we the cellar, for himself :, W* %0, arrangement of cbam««««S£d»i«l>- p material, he originated andLffiJ£tdiiv» . posed supernaturaltumnlUWoWW the captain's .widow andd*"s their home. He thenmade>» search for the money,^fJ^Z»m him to Peru. -B«^ii ]& *»■•* of immediate death InduMd.W^.^. the letter of explanatwn to w daughter. ■ '■■. • -."■!i' ''■ - '

IHE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 24, 1885.

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CATARRH WtSSiafiSfeflSSv'.