*• HI SLYKE, Kdltor A PSMMMT. ILLINOIS THE SCHOLAR'S SWEETHEART. Au< day he toiIs with wtl severe , _yg (nmethins learnedly polemic. i!-; " /" *roin Harvard he returned last year, . With bounteous honors academic. IlispaientB name him but in praa*, f f*- * : . »• little Bisters unite adore him,. . ----_* And all the loving household toy* • ;'*• **-i Allegiance willingly before him. WJjt forma his labor, week by week? Tmy could n^t understand--oh, never! TSM something eminently Greek, •^something intricately clevs*. r /I Bat still his tuk, unfinished yet, H# shapes with industry nnflawgiwy, Ana mites his treatise that shall set The beads of noted pundits wagging. I* it of Homer's doubtful lines? On yet some question, subtly finer, Ofwhether certain famous wines Were test obtained from Asia Minor? u it of dialects impure? b it some long-fought rule of grammar? Is it old Sanscrit roots obscure? Is it that wearisome digamma ? Bolwhother this,« whether that, ^^ThroHj-'h fragmnt fields, when ^'ork is ended. While darkly wlieefe the zi"7a<i fiat. And all the west is warmly splendid, He steala to meet, in loving wise, • • With eager steps that do not terry, A rosy gill, whose shining eyes . - GreIT teuder as she call is Mm " Marty." ' Wh*t altered thoughts can she awake, Thuipeari of sweetheart*, best and fairest! And what-a contrast does she make To '* Comments on the Second Aorist!" Sottrimgly round him can she thn>w Her dazzling spelte of sweet retention, Tw doubtful now if he could go Correctly through his Flret Declension. For while near mosey meadow ban, . With spirit thrilled by sacred pleasures. He lingers till the dawn of stare, Eta lingers by- the girl he treasures, Thw grave young scholar scarcely knows -• m . Secl?r ?>l18 a fiKhting seaman. If tatty Pmdar wrote in prose; Or Athens lay in Lacedfemon! --Edgar Fnweett, m Haiper't Magazine for /0AlMf|fa AN OLD LETTER. T0-DAY I untied an old packages of letters, all faded and yellow. The __ "Writer has long since passed away, so I * will take one and send it to you, not for anything new or strange that it Contains, but that those who read it inay see that Love laughed at loek- imiths as heartily fifty years ago as he does now, and that the course of true love ran no smoother then than now. M. Sr. C. NEW YORK, Sept. 5,1827. MY DEAR HELEN: Now that I have returned to America, I will comply with your request and give you some of the particulars of my wedding; but I must first give you a bit of history that necessarily goes before. You knew of my engagement to Mr. . Clifford before you went af^ay, which was the year previbus to mamma's death. Nothing could have been fairer than our prospects. We had the ap proval of all connected with us. My *trousseau was in the hands of the best modiste in the city. The house we were to occupy, and the ground sur rounding it, were undergoing a com plete transformation. The architects and landscape gardeners were urged to put forth their skill, to the utmost in rendering the whole place most beau tiful. The upholsterers, too, had their orders to spare no pains or expense in the interior adornments. Everything looked so bright to me. It was more like some fairy tale than anything in real lift. It reminded me of some love ly dream, the awakening from which came all to soon One morning mam ma was in her usual health; the next, she was coffined for her burial. You who have lost a dear mother can tell how hard the blow fell upon me, so suddenlv and unexpectedly it came. . , Being an only child, too, like your self, I niad no one to go to for sympa- * tky but my father, and he could give me none. Indeed, it was I who gave him the boon I sought. I never saw a man so cast down, so utterly over- Whelmed by grief. Everv hope seemed brushed, every ray of light had van ished forever, leaving the future dark ind gloomy. Mamma had been his first and only love. They had grown up from childhood together. She had been all in all to him. Now death had •ome and robbed him of his treasure. The soft brown eyes that had lighted op ao often at his home-coming were dosed forever. The beautiful lips that *luid spoken so many endearing words were cold and motionless. Mr. Clif ford, who was absent on business at the time, was hastily summoned, and with all the affection of a son he entreated papa for my sake to be more recon ciled, but his efforts were vain. Our old pastor, who had been papa's spir- v itnal guide from boyhood, came, and f with prayers and tears besought him to i bear this his first affliction with more j; w a Christian's fortitude and resigna tion. At first he would not listen to even him, but gradually he grew calmer, and after a time tried to say, "Thy will be done." I will pass over the funeral, with its crape and flowers, the long procession of mourners, the consignment to the tomb of her who was always far less of earth than of heaven, and of the terri ble gloom that settled down upon our once, happy home. The year which followed was one of such extreme misery to me, that I can scarcely en sure even the recital of some of the ^events. My father sent to Pbiladel- Shia for some distant relatives of mam-la's, a widow lady with two daughters, to come and remain with us for a time, thinking thereby to lighten my load of responsibility, and also as a means of • lessening mv grief, which was preying ^ Opon me fearfully. I tried to tell him that I greatly objected .to their coming, but he would not listen to me, think ing, no doubt, that I was in too morbid m state to reason on any subject. They «ame, and from that hour I date my 'imhappiness. Mamma's death was frothing in comparison. Mrs. Sedge wick was a scheming, hypocritical woman, with an insatiable Ambition, and her daughters were not • %f whit behind her in anything, not even in beauty, for they were all three jtmarkably handsome women. -• Kate, the older of the daughters, was 'M queenly being, who had her mother's black hair, and even blacker eyes, and Whose every motion was a command. Alia, the younger, who, they said, re- lbled her father, was a little, kitten ish thing, pretending to be . much younger than she really was, and pur ring around every one who came in her way. Why is it that when wo meet- some persons we lose ourselves, so to speak? I have known those who pos sessed more than an ordinary share of self-reliance; but let them come into the presence of certain persons and they were stripped of their individuality, putting on such meekness and conde scension that they were most pitiful to see. Just so it was with myself when I came before these women. They saw at a glance the power they had over me, and they never lost an oppor tunity while they remained to let me feel it. Of course our wedding was postponed for a time, and I afterward learned they had intended it to be for- ; ever. Mr. Clifford was obliged to be absent on business in the South for several months, and during that time they tried every means in their power to ac complish their purpose. They had learned of his wealth and position long before they came to us, and they had looked well as to the future. Kate was better fitted for his wife than I, they had said, and his wife she should be, if strategy were of any avail, Their first move was to invite young gentlemen friends from their native citv to visit them. I would be urged to accom pany them in their drives here and there, on account of my health, they said. All these solicitations I tried to decline with firmness, but it was the merest semblance of firmness, as each time their wishes were gratified, when my father, having been appealed to, would say, " My daughter, you must try to take care of your health." Lit tle did I dream of the baseness of their treachery, or I would have loathed even the sight of their sable garments, in which they delighted to array them selves, knowing full well that their beauty was greatly enhanced thereby. The first intimation I had of their per fidy came to me in a letter from Mr. Clifford. In it he said he was so glad I was trying to bear my loss so well, and that he thought my plan of driv ing out so often was a very good one, only he envied the handsome young gentlemen who were my companions. 1 knew there was something he wished to conceal behind his pleasant raillery, but, when I questioned my father as to what he had written concerning me, I found that, none but the briefest com munications had passed between them, and entirely of a business nature. I sat down and wrote a long letter to Mr. Clifford, telling him all my troubles, and asking his advice with re- fard to going from home for a time to e rid of the annoyances of these ma neuvering women. I waited long and anxiously for an answer, but none came. After weeks passed I appealed to my father for a solution of the mystery. He took my hand in his and said: "My daughter, 1 fear your idol is but clay." "What!" I exclaimed, "do you mean to insinuate that he who was so soon to have been my husband is false to me?" "I do," he said, "if his repeated avowals of love to Miss Kate is any in dication. I have wished to tell you of it for some time, but her mother thought it best not to do so yet." Her mother! I saw it all now. The cards were in the hands of skillful players. I had been more than blind. While my father had been petted and courted by this scheming widow, the daughter had been trying to steal from me the affections of him whom I had looked upon as too good, too noble to err--a perfect god among men. You know my disposition too well to think I would swoon or cry out in my agony. I merely said, "I am very sorry you did not tell me of this sooner. ' I went up to my room, and for hours none but God knew what I suffered. I prayed, as I never prayed before, that I might be upheld by that Unseen Power which alone avails in such a time of need. I came down strengthened for the trials that awaited me. I told my father if he loved or cared for me in the least never to allow anyone to* know aught of our conversation. He gave me his promise, and I was satisfied. I was determined that by no outward sign should anyone suspect the truth, so I went among them all as usual, at tending to the duties enjoined upon me with more than my usual cheerfulness. The days passed "one by one, and I neither saw nor heard from him for whom my heart was breaking. I could endure it no longer. I must get away from that intolerable place or die. I inserted a short notice in one of the daily papers asking for the position of governess in some family remote from the city. I soon had numberless an swers, but none pleased me so much as one from a lady in a small town about thirty miles away, who asked that I might come immediately to take charge of her two children. I had told my father of my intention, so I had nothing to do but make my ar rangements to leave as soon as I could pack my trunks. Into one I carefully folded away the beautiful white silk garments in which I was to have been clothed on my bridal-day. The pearl necklace and bracelets, a gift from one who was to be henceforth nameless to me, I carefully placed within the folds of the rich lace, and closing the lid, locked them all away from my sight forever. In another trunk I put all that' I most desired belonging to my mother; this I sent to the house of a friend; in another one I put all the clothes that I should need, together with my jewelry. I was so glad to know that I was real ly going that I could scarcely wait un til the coach in which I was to perform the journey should arrive. When at last I was ready to go I simply said good-by, and that was all. My father telt far more than he betrayed, but still I knew he did not regret my going as I would have wished. I forgave him, however, and was gone. I saw but little of the country through which we passed; but I think it was beauti ful, judging from the exclamations of surprise and pleasure indulged in by my fellow-travelers. My heart was too full of sorrow, and my eyes too full of tears, to see or care for anything. Toward night rain began to fall, first very softly and slowly, but ere we reached our destination * it came down almost in torrents. I fully expected a carriage and servant awaiting me, as I had sent word at what time I should arrive, but, being disap pointed, my only alternative was to put up for the night. The inn at which the coach stopped was as dreary aplace as my imagination could have pictured. No fire had been kindled in the waiting-room, and thl solitary can dle only rendered the gloom and dark ness more apparent. As I was the only one of the passengers who remained, the host was not particular as to his duties, and I assure you I fared but poorly. When nearly an hour had passed, and a servant-maid came to say that supper was prepared, I was as nearly home-sick as it was possible to be. I followed her to a long, low dining-room, where several indifFor»t»t persons were seated at a table which contrasted well with everything else I had seen. As I entered they all gazed at me as though an apparition had made its appearance among them. I inferred immediately that the person who came to light the fire for me had seen me in tears, and had gone back to make it known. They continued to watch me closely whilst I drank my tea, and, on my arising from the table with out having tasted any food, they con cluded. no doubt, that I was poor and friendless. I returned to the parlor, which was by that time more cheerful, and, seating myself before the little fireplace, 1 was soon lost in thoughts of the past. I had not been seated long when I heard a carriage stopping be fore the house. Thinking it was sent for me, I arose and turned toward the door just as it was opened by a gentle man clad in a long traveling"cloak. He advanced a few steps, and, removing his hat, said: " Pardon me; is this the lady who was to have come by the coach this evening from New York on her way to my sister's, Mrs. Lindsay?" Before he had finished speaking I had fallen senseless on the floor; on re covering. the landlady* with several of her domestics who had been called in, were administering such restoratives as they chanced to have, and at the same time commenting on my condition. "Poor thing," they were saying, "I wonder who she is?" At this the gen tleman came forward to address me; the lipht had been brought nearer, so that my face was now visible, and "My God, Lucy, is this you?" burst from his lips. Then recovering himself, he said, instantly: " Pardon, Miss Murray, how came you here?" Instinctively I knew he was true to me, and. throwing myself into his arms, exclaimed: "Oh, Mr. Clifford. I.know God sent you to me." My dear Helen, vou may imagine, if you can, but I cannot describe to you, the exquisite joy that followed the ex planations as we sat there in that little wayside inn. In conclusion, he told me that a pack age containing valuables to a large amount had been sent to him by the coach in which 1 had come, and fearing something might happen to it he had come over in the carriage to take charge of it himself. " Now," said he, as we prepared to go, " I have something to care for, worth more than all the jewels on earth." Calling those whom he had so imperatively dismissed on recognizing me, and paying them liberally for all their trouble, he handed me into the carriage, and we were driven off through the storm and darkness. Mrs. Lindsay was awaiting us in her elegant home, little dreaming of the change a few hours had wrought in two lives. When all was explained to her she took me in her arms and said: " I know God will bless you, my dear, for all you have been made to suffer." I know you will think it strange that did not know to whom I was going as governess. I knew Mr. Clifford had an only sister living in New Orleans by the name of Lindsay, but as she had re cently come to the place I had heard nothing of it. Her husband had pur chased very extensive shares in some mines there, and as her health was del icate he thought it best to come North for the summer. The change was not beneficial, however, which was the cause of her hasty acceptance of my services, as she did not feel able to take charge of the education of her chil dren. The following morning a servant was sent to conduct mc to the library, where Mr. Clifford was awaiting me. Seating me on the sofa beside him, and, taking my hand in his, he said: "My dearest LUCJt, I have something to tell you which will doubtless surprise you great ly. I engaged my passage to Europe on the ship Atlantic, wliiiMi sails in less than two days' time. When I heard that you had ceased to love me and were already affianced to another, I thought to put the sea between us. I knew 1 could not endure to see you again, so, settling all my affairs, and coming here to bid my only sister food-by, I was almost ready to be off. 'he package I went for last night was a gift for her, which was the last I sup posed I could make her for years to come. Now will you consent to a hasty marriage, and let the good ship bear us together to the Old World? Will you consent not only to take this short jour ney with me, but will you go with me on the great voyage of life?" I could but answer as so many have answered before me, "Whither thou goest I will go." Mrs. Lindsay approved of the plan, and entered most heartily in the prep arations for our wedding. She dis patched her footman with invitations to many of her friends, with one to Mr. Gibson, the clergyman. By the time the hour for the ceremony had arrived, everything was in readiness. After the guests had assembled, I entered the parlor leaning on Mr. Clifford's arm, wearing the dress which I had so lately put out of my sight as something I should never need, with the snowy pearls encircling my neck and arms. As the holy man of God pronounced us man and wife, and gave us his blessing so tenderly and reverently, I surely thought no one on earth could be as happy. I knew my father would not object to my going anywhere I might choose, now that he was ruled and guided by one whom I had good reason to suppose would 'soon be his wife. It was after midnight when the guests took their leave, after having given us their congratulations and kind wishes, and as we had to be on the road by day-break there was no time to be lost. Mr. Lindsay promised to meet us with his family in Paris at the j end of three months, so taking leave of them for a short time we were soon on our way to New York, where we ar rived--none too soon. We went to my father's office where I told him the cir cumstances as briefly as 1 could, hoping to open his eyes to the treachery of those beneath his roof. I would have loved to see the fair trio as he gave them the news on his return home, but, judging from the early date of his marriage, I presume he was not seriously affected by anything I might have said. I must now close this long, hastily- written letter, by saying that we have spent two happy, blie«f»il years in trav eling. The only sorrow 1 had was when the news of my father's marriage reached me, but as I was fully prepared for it it did not grieve me so much as it otherwise would have done. Write soon to your friend, L. M. C.--Chicago Tribune. Religious. FACTS AND FIGURES. IN many parts of Germany taxes now amount to from 17 to 20 per cent, of as certained value. AN English musical journal says that 15 per cent, of the inmates of lunatic asylums are musicians and singers. THE United States utilizes in agricul ture 10 per cent, of its area; Great Britain, 58 per cent., and Holland, 70. THE season's catch of salmon in Oregon has been over 130,000, and 9,000 cases have been put up for the market. CONSTANTINOPLE contains, 750,000 inhabitants. The old Eastern Empire Walls, twenty-one miles in circuit, still surround it. THE amount of sugar annually con sumed in Great Britain is 900,000 tons, being about sixty pounds for every one of the population. THE Napa Valley (Cal.) wine-mak- ers have shipped 80,000 gallons of last year's vintage, which commands a higher price than the previous year. IT is stated that during the past sea son of navigation the loss by accident in the St. Lawrence River, to ocean ves sels and cargoes, amounts to $685,650. THE receipts of hides at the port of New York tor the nine months from Jan. 1 to Oct. 1 were 2,324,815; the same time last year, 1,633,863; increase, 680,952. DURING 1876, 108,771 Italians emi grated to America. According to the statistics, 89,000 of this grand total are set. down as temporary tourists, the rest as permanent settlers. THE largest mass of gold yet discov ered in Nevada was found near Osceola. It weighed twenty-four pounds and fif teen ounces, and, as it contained very little quartz, its coin value was not far from $4,000. THE largest bell in the world is in the Temple of Clars, in Kiatoe, Japan. It has no clapper, but is struck by wooden battering ram. It is twenty- four feet high, and sixteen inches thick at the rim. COMPLETE returns of the business of the canals of New York for the season just closed under the low toll system permits the following comparisons: _ . me. . .. mi. Toll®.. $1,340,00* $890,898 Tons 4,172,129 4,879,018 Gain in tonnage about 17 per cent Loss in tolls about 34 per cent. THE total number of licensed saloons or drinking places in the United States for the fiscal year ending June 30, 1877, was 164,598, or, calculating from a pop ulation of 45,000,000, one for every 280 persons. The total number of whole sale liquor dealers is 4,604; brewers, 2,758; rectifiers, 1,130; distillers, 4,992. SINCE the 1st of January, 1877, the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals has prosecuted 525 cases of cruelty in New loik and Brooklyn. Of these 487 resulted in the conviction and punishment of the of fenders. Special agents, or street pa trol, turned out of harness 1,961 horses that were lame and sick. The agents humanely destroyed 1,202 horses and 460 small animals. IN India last year 19,273 persons and 54,830 cattle were destroyed by wild animals and poisonous snakes, a con siderable increase that, however, may be accounted for in part by the greater accuracy of the later set of statistics. Over $62,000 have been spent during the year in rewards for the destruction of noxious animals and reptiles. The complete figures for the last season were 22,357 wild animals and 270,185 poisonous snakes killed. AN aggregate of the Federal, State, and local debts of the country occur ring since 1860, those incurred by rail roads, the discounts and loans of banks and mortgages, and the total liabilities of the people of the United States, amounts to the enormous sum of $7,- 375,000,000. The burden imposed upon the people by the interest due on this vast sum is a heavy one. Even at the low rate of 5 per cent., the interest on that amount would be $368,750,000 per annum. AN eminent New-England critic says: St. Nicholas is exactly suited to the _ little folk, and yet its high artistic ex cellence will be full}* appreciated by older people only. But that is no objec tion to it, and we don't believe that the best is ever thrown away upon children, if (as in this case) it is rightly presented. It is not necessary tnat the young should know exactly how their artistic sense is educated, and their love of beauty cultivated, if the result is at tained." Gov. IRWIN'S message to the Cali fornia Legislature states that the taxa ble property of the State is $595,073,- 000, a decrease of $23,000,000 from 1876. The State tax rate is seventy- three and one-half cents on the $100, an increase of thirteen cents, caused by the decrease in valuation and the ne cessity of providing for augmented ap propriations. The estimated expendi tures for the two fiscal years ending June 30,1880, are $5,699,000, or about $3,000,000 a year. ^ _--One of the most dangerous counter feits ever issued has just made its ap pearance. It is printed from the same plate as was used for the counterfeit five-dollar bills on the First National Bank of Tamaqua, the title of the bank | being changed to Hanover, Pa. j RB8T. " . ' *--- ' - _____ n V . -» R»r--where is rest! Hot in the angry ocean. Whose fury fright* the pilot from the helm; the heart whose uncontrolled emotion threatens its guiding voice to overwhelm. where is rest? Not in the fatsl calm That holds the crew imprisoned on the deep; rv'1 • . where, with malignant charm, Ueupair holds passion in a seeming Rest is not found upon the eea-biid's wins, Watchins itsprey beneathfthe glaasv wave; the heart whose constant coveting ikim, 'Give, give, .give," M U*» grave. Best is not in the ever-changing sky. Whose clouds ascend to fill and rise main: Nor in the earth, whose creatures live aaddie. Aad live toytliti ifciiiim? to Buataiu. . Nor is it in the heart that loves to range Amid the scenes delusive fancy pamta, Bounds *nth delight at every promised change* But under every present conflict faints. • ' Rest »in none of these--the passing year Bays there's no test in time.' We wait the glorious rest that shall appear For CIOCI'B own people in eternity. And must we then in time remain unblest? Forbid it, Love Divine! In Christ--e'en hew- BeJuevers can have entered into rest: The of perfect love, that oasts out fear. --Sunday at HOTM. Sutiay-Sciiooi tossou* FIBSr QtTARTKlt. 1KB. Jan. 13.--Ana faithful to hiaGcd.2 Chirm. 14:1-11. Jan. 3).--The Covenant Renewed.2Chron. 15:8-15. Jan. 27.--Jehosaphat'H Pnwperity2 Chron. 17:1-10. feh. S.--Jehosaphnt Reptoved. -IChraa. 19:1-9. Feb. 10.--Jehosaphat Helped of God.................... ;SChmn.2fcl4-tt> Feb. 17.-J««sh Repairing the Temple .... •• •.•- 2Chms^t: f-18. Feb. 24. Uziiah s Pride Pun ched 2 Chrom J26 JM23. Mch. 8.--Aha*' Peroist'nt Wick edness 2ChronJ8J9t-27. Good Reign. 2 ChrenS: 1-11. Mch. 17.--Hetckiah and the Assyrians 2Chron.32: 8-21, Mch. 24.--Manasseh Brought to Rewmtance............. 2 Chron^S: 9-16. Mch. si.--Review of the Lessons l'or the Quarter. How to Make People Better* IN order to use our personal influenco for purifying the morality of the poor er classes, it is not necessary that we should all go to meet them in their low est haunts. They are everywhere with us. The women in our kitchens, and in the shops where we make our pur chases, form a numerous part of the community; and we may do much to prevent them from sinking into the de graded class that is always waiting to receive them. We are all of us, every day, influencing members of these classes, whether we desire to or not; and we cannot be too careful that we may not sin against them by lowering their respect for those who are more fortunate than themselves. Every act and word of gentleness and courtesy toward the servant or the shop-girl, which results from sympathy, is a charity twice blessed. The poor appreciate very clearly the difference between the kindness of supercilious ness and the kindness of sympathy; and the one rouses what Is evil in them, while the other awakens what is good. We must not pity them as if they were beings different from ourselves; but by striving to imagine ourselves in their Elaces, do as we would like to be done y were we situated as they are. If it were possible to love the neigh bor as one's self, we could measure more truly the relations of the various ordei^ of society, and could give to all the justice which is their due. But while it is very easy to give a passion ate and self-sacrificing love to those whom we admire, and who are ready to give us love and admiration in re turn, nothing is more difficult than for us to give to every human being that consideration which is due as a right from every one to every one. Generos ity is often easy and delightful, because in exercising it we simply follow out the natural impulses of our own per sonal feelings. Justice, on the con trary, is often difficult and painful; because it requires us to resist our im pulses, and to work in accordance with the absolute laws of Divine Truth. "To do justly and to love mercy" is the last and highest perfection to which we can aspire m our relations with our fellow-beings, and we can reach it only through *• walking humbly with our God." Every step we take toward this perfection enlarges our ability for do- ing good toward all with whom we come in contact, by giving us power to accept the truth that we all belcag to one family, and that all have a right to the best we can do for them, because we are all the children of the one Divine Father.--New Jerusalem Mes senger. o doing nothing by the do anything like what fear that if we waat to Into we _ do, our neig&iors will tnat m with ridicule or scorn. Maxy eared for none of these things. She only wished to please the Lord. Her keen, lynx- like .eye saw no one but Jeew there, she acted precisely as she would have done if she had been with Him alone.-- ~ Mm Taylor. M.*- tittle Thing*. IT seems to me that the very kernel of our individual religion lies in our Christian helpfulness to one another; and, as far as regards our fellow-beinn, our truest expression of it runs ever along this line. At th« AAme Mmo, it is a truth poorly understood, at least poorly practiced. Very much of oar own happiness and the happiness of those about us, lies in the daily practico of this spirit. It is the little things of life that largely make our hapoiness or misery;it is the little worries ol life that gradually wear out the powers of nerve and brain. And small kindnesses have, great power to soothe and cheer and comfort us. We can show our desire to help others by habitually speaking kind to them. How many an over worked wife and mother would start with glad surprise at some kind word love and encouragement spoken by her husband, in the morning! And how many a husband, after a day of toil and anz» iety, would forget it ail just through the influence of a kindly smile .of wel come and a cheery word from his wife! I say these little things have a great power to make a home happy, and Keep the remembrance fresh and bright of hours long since passed by. Then little thoughtful acts will surely follow the kind words, small in themselves, but showing the loving thought which prompted them. Do not put off these things until it is too late, but do then \ i MOW.--Church Union. The Christian's Hope* "TITK hope which is laid off l# jwi in Heaven." These words of the Apos tle are not to be taken in a sense so e»> tirely literal as to imply that the hope of the Christian is laid up beyond his reach, until he shall come to that bliss ful abode where there is no more hopev but sight and possession. They are, designed to indicate the abiding-plaea* of hope, and here the beautiful figure of _ Paul may serve to illustrate the Srint. Hope is the soul's anchor ud eaven its Divine holding-ground. The anchor is, therefore, in Heaven, while yet the soul is buffeted by the tempest uous waves of earth; and the two are. united by the Invisible but indestructi ble chain of God's covenant grace, eveijr link of which is of the beaten geld of Divine immortality!-- Chicago fffjiaifnrrf Popular Applanse. FEW things are more deceitful than popular applause. It goes in circuits like the wind, whirling about continu ally, and so it furnishes no sure guar antee of the character of him who is for the time being its idol. Sometimes the truest heroes liave fallen victims to the world's malice; while, again, some of the emptiest noodles have, just by reason of their emptiness, floated on the current of its favor. Of course it is not always the case that those whom the world condemns are in the right, or that those whom it praises are in the wrong, but this much we can always sav, that popular opinion gives no in fallible indication of a man s character. Hence the Lord Jesus forms His esti mate of individuals on quite other grounds than those on which human judgment tests. It makes no matter to Him whether the crowd be shouting " Hosanna" of "Crucify;" He looks at the heart of the man, and if He finds there love to Himself inspiring to deeds of holiness and benevolence, He will bestow His gracious approval. If, therefore, we seek such a memorial from Jesus as Mary obtained (Matt. 26: 13), we need not much distress our selves about what our fellow-men*niay say regarding us. We are not, indeed, wantonly and willfully to defy public opinion, and go against it just for the sake of opposing it. But we need not care what men say if we be only sure that we .are acting purely from love to Him who gave Himself for us. Mary did not stay to ask what Peter, or Thomas, or even John, would advise; but, trusting her own instincts, she went and did what her heart prompted. And so it should be with us. Oh, how we vitiate our best works by letting the consideration of human applause come into our reckoning while we do them! Romance in America. WHO says there is no romance hi practical America? Who says that the days of chivalry and love-making we gone, and that this is a world of ledges* and blue stockings? Why, tie ex change table shows: (a) that romaooe begins early, for a Chicago lad of fear- teen eloped, last week, with a Mwoet little miss of thirteen; (b) that il gels on fast, for a dashing naval officer pe»> Sosed to a Washington belle last Tuee-ay, was accepted on Wednesday aad married on Saturday; (c) thai 14 .is numerous, for a woman in Coventor, Conn., swears that, like the good wile in Chaucer's tale, she has had seveai husbands, and that they have annoyed her all her life by turning up after sto had every reason to suppose that they had been hanged as pirates or carried off by small-pox; (d) that it is exceed ingly uncertain, for "Clara," of West- field, Mass., broke the engagement the' moment she heard that her betrothed had been bitten by a mad dog, on the ground that it would be unsafe to many a man who might have the hydro phobia; (e) that it is never too late lor it: for a miserly farmer in Massachu setts, who confessed his seventy-thiid year, hired his neighbor's son to find S wife for him, insisting that she must be voung and pretty, and the agept brought to tne venerable widower an engaging lass of seventeen, who, rather than work out for a living, professed her willingness to marry him, and to inherit his money in the sweet by aad by; but the marriage hascost old Janu ary dearly, for, beside the con:mis- • sions charged by the neighbor's son, he has had to give his daughter, who was little May's senior by eight years, $10,000 outright before she would con sent to leave Tiis roof and allow him to enjoy his honeymoon.--N. Y. lYibune. A Plucky Eagiaeer. A CIRCUMSTANCE which occurred the other day, while not exactly thrilling' or romantic, served to show the mettle of one of the oldest engineers on the Bal timore & Ohio Railroad. This engineer is named Curtiss Elliott, and his home is in Baltimore. During his many years of exposure he has contracted :M severe rheumatic affection, which rare ly troubles him on the road; but wlxai it does, the effects are sudden and alarming. Not long since, while mak ing the night run on the through west ern train from Martinsburg, W. Va., to Baltimore, when a little more than half way the distance he was attacked by rheumatism, and within half an hour his arms and legs were useless, lib to the very last moment of commant* ing his muscles he kept his hand upon the lever, and when at last tie was. powerless he directed the fireman Hi the necessary movements. His condi tion was such that he should have left the cab and sought relief at the first stopping-place, but he would not He said ne would stay at his p >*t ami bring the engine into Baltimore if lie died in the effort. The many passen gers in the train were of course una ware that the man who controlled their safety was sitting in the cab, unable t» stir hand or foot. When the traht. :•* came into Camden Station. Mr. Elliott had to be lifted out by friends and car ried to a hack, out of which he had again to be carried into the house.-- Baltimore Ameruian.' --It is the custom among oertaijk tribes in Siberia that when a woman is married she must prepare the wr.idjng mw vu. » ..w -- dinner with her own lutmls> Tlv And how frequently we are frightened ! would hardly work here* *