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(f? ' i A "Wfei|Uer's fiirtMa|r-r-"Mark Tw»lnV • ' » WkwBKf I9^VCH|» . THK Atlantic Monthly dinner to the fwfet Whittier on his seventieth birthday called out about sixty gentlemen, who M« or have been contributors to the Atlantic. Mr. ttf^ftier was present, as were Longfellow, Emerson, Holmes, HqweRs, Charles Dudley Warner, Mark Twain and others. Mr. Whittier's speech was very short He said: 'NCIU must know that you are not to •**00$ % speech from me to-night. I 'CnnJidv say that I am very glad to neit with my friends of the Atlantic, a gpreat many' contributors to which I natQ only known through their writings, tndtftat I thank them for the reception ihey lisve given me. When 1 supposed that I would not be able to attend this oeremonv I placed in my friend Long­ fellow's fcancls a little bit of verse that I to|^| Mm if it were necessary I wished be would read. My voice is of a "timorous nature and rarely to be lieard above the breath." Mv friend Longfellow will do me the favor to mad t he writing. I shall be very much •obliged to hinCand hope at his nine­ tieth anniversary some of the younger men will do as much for him/' f*rof. Henry W. Longfellow was re­ ceived with "great cordiality, and he ¥ - • #£&'•- m -i 4< I do not know why it is that I can­ not make an after-dinner speech as well as other people, but I cannot. I have made several attempts, and 1 have al­ ways observed it to produce a depressing aimnence. Now I am very glad that any friend Whittier comes to my aid. I received a letter from him regretting ' that he could not be present on this occasion. [Applause and laughter.] He days: < I would like to be at the dinner, folt.I am by no means certain of it. The only condition upon which I can be |ree from severe suffering is the entire avoidance of occasions of this sort-- •evening parties, meetings and lectures. My physician has warned me to be very •careful to keep out of the way of all ex­ citement, pleasurable or otherwise. In case I should not be with you, will you do me the favor of reading the in­ closed? I have sent a copy of it to the Literary World. Of course I do not wish it read unless something is said that will make it proper/ 11 Prof. Longfellow then read the poem, •which was short. After the introductory speech by Mr. Houghton, Mr. Howells, the editor of »• «the Atlantic, presided, and introduced icSK&ny of the speakers in graceful little -speeches of his own. Sir. Emerson recited iVhittier's poem, " Ichabod." rDr. Holmes read a poem. . Among the other speakers at the dinner were "Mark Twain," Charles Dudley Warner. Col. Higginsou, Geo. E. Waring, William F. Apthorp, and W. H. Bishop. "Mark Twain's" speech was as follows: Mr. Chairman: This is an occasion £]B0culiarly meet for the digging up of pleasant reminiscences concerning lit^fary folk; therefore I will drop ligntly into history myself. Standing here on the shore of the Atlantic ana contemplating certain of its biggest literacy billows, I am reminded of a tiling, which happened to me fifteen .years ago, when I had just succeeded in stirring up a little Nevadian literary -ocean puddle myself, whose spume- flakes were beginning to blow thinly • Californiaward. I started an inspec­ tion tramp through the southern mines California. I was callow and con- •rceited, and I resolved to try the virtue • of my nom de plume. I very soon had an opportunity. I knocked at a miner's •lonely log cabin in the foot-hills of the Sierras just at night-fall. It was snow­ ing at the time. A jaded, melancholy man of fifty, bare-footed, opened to me. When he heard my nom de plume, he i ^looked. more dejected than before. Ho ' let me in--pretty reluctantly, 1 thought --and after the customary bacon and «'• beans, black coffee and a hot whisky, I took a pipe. This sorrowful man had > not said three words up to this time. • "Now he spoke up and said in the voice ,• of one who is secretly suffering, ! r ifou're the fourth--I'm a-going to ' jpMre." 44 The fourth what?" said I. "The fourth littery man that's been here in twenty-four hours--I'm a-going , t move." " You don't tell me!" said ' I; "Who were the others?" "Mr. •XiangfeUow, Mr. Emerson and Mr. 'Oliver Wendell Holmes -dad fetch the *wtr You can easily believe I was inter- bested. I supplicated--three hot whis­ kies did the rest--and finally the mel- '.aacholy miner began. Said he: ** ̂ They came here just at dark yester­ day evening, and I let them in, of course. Said they were going to Yosem ite. They were a rough lot, but that's nothing; everybody looks rough that Vt&vels afoot. Mr. Emerson was a seedy •lUttle bit of a chap, red-headed. Mr. .Holmes was as fat as a balloon; he weighed as much as 300, and had •double chins all the way down to his stomach. Mr. Longfellow was built like a prize-fighter. His head was 1 ©popped and bristly, like as if he had a wig made of hair-brushes. His nose i rl»v straight down his face like a finger with the end joint tilted up. They nad •been drinking; I could see that. And •What queer talk they used! Mr. Holmes . (inspected the cabin, then he took me | jfty the buttonhole, and says he: Through the deejicaveB of thought grub ready, you'll do me proud." Well, sir, after they'd filled up I set out the jug. Mr. Holmes looks at it and then he fires up, all of a sudden, and yells: " Flash out a stream of blood-red wine, " For 1 would drink to other days." By George, I was getting kindof worked up. I don't deny it, I was get­ ting kind of worked up. I turns to Mr. Holmes, and says I, "Looky here, my fat friend. I'm a-running this shanty, and if the court knows herself you'll take wfiiskv straight or you'll go dry." Them stheverywordslsaidtonim. Now I didn't want to sass such famous littery people, but you see they kind of forced me. There ain't nothing onreasonable 'bout me. I don't mind a passel of guests a-tread'n on my tail three or four times, but when it comes to stand­ ing on it it's different, and, if the cohrt knows herself, you'll take whisky straight or you'll go dry. Well, be­ tween drinks they'd swell around the cabin and strike attitudes and spout. Says Mr. Longfellow: - : i ip , " This is the finest primeval̂ "" " Says Mr. Emerson: . ** Here once the embattled farmers stood. And fired the shot heard round the world." Say8-1, " O, blackguard the premises as much as you want to--it don't cost a cent." Well, they went on drink­ ing, and pretty soon they got out a greasy old deck and went to playing cut-threat euchre at ten cents a cor­ ner--on trust. I begun to notice some pretty suspicious things. Mr. Emerson dealt, looked at his hand, shook his head, and says: . J " I am the doubter and the donbt W" and calmly bunched the hands and went to shuffling for a new lay-out. Says he: " They reckon ill who leave me out; They know not well the subtle ways I keep. I pass, and deal again P' Hang'd if he didn't go ahead and do it, too! O, he was a cool one! Well, in about a minute things were running pretty ti^ht; but of all of a sudden I see by Mr. Lmerson's eye that he judged he had 'em. He had already eorraled two tricks, and each of the others one. So now he kind of lifts a little in his chair, and says: " I tire of globes and aces!-- Too long a game is played!" --and down he fetched a right bower. Mr. Longfellow smiles as sweet as pie, and says: " Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy Mend, For the lesson thou hast taught;1' --and dog my cats if he didn't down with another right bower. Well, sir, up jumps Holmes, a war-whooping as usual, and says: " God help them if the tempest swings The pine against the palm"' --and I wish I may go to grass if he didn't swoop down with another right bower! Emerson claps his hand on his bowie, Longfellow claps his on his revolver, and I went under a bunk. There was going to be trouble; but that monstrous Holmes rose up, wobbling his double chin, and says he, " Order, gentlemen; the first man that draws, I'll lay down on him and smother him!" All quiet on the Potomac, you bet! They were pretty how-come-you-so, now, and they begun to blow. Emer­ son says, "The bulliest thing I ever wrote was ' Barbara Frietchie.' " Says Longfellow, " It don't begin with my * Biglow Papers.'" Says Holmes, " My Thanatopsis lays over 'em both." They mighty near ended in a fight. Then they wished they had some more company--and Mr. Emerson pointed at me and says-- " Is yonder squalid peasant all That this proud nursery could breed?" He was a-whetting his bowie on his boot--so I let it pass. Well, sir, next they took it into their heads that they would like some music; so they made me stand up and sing, "When Johnny comes marching home" till I dropped --at thirteen minutes past four this morning. That's what i've been through, my friend. When I woke at seven, they were leaving, thank good­ ness, and Mr. Longfellow had my only boots on, and his own under his arm. Says I, " Hold on, there, Evangeline, what are you going to do with themf He says, " Going to make tracks with 'em; because-- " Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime; -- ^.nd, deijartiiig, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time." As I said, Mr. Twain, you are the fourth in twenty-four hours--and I'm a-goiug to move; I ain't suited to littery atmosphere. I said to the miner, " Why, my dear sir, these were not the gracious singers to whom we and the world pay. loving reverence and homage; these were im- posters." The miner investigated me with a calm eye for a while. Then said he. " Ah! imposters, were they? are youV I did not pursue the subject, and since then I haven't traveled on my nom da plume enough to hurt. Such was the reminiscence I was moved to contribute, Mr. Chairman. In my enthusiasm I iftav have exaggerated the details a little, but you will easily forgive me that fault, since I believe it is uie first time I have ever deflected from perpen­ dicular fact on an occasion like this. 1 hear a voice 1 ; sings; Build me more stately mansions, • O my soul!" Says I, "I can't afford it, Mr. .! 'Holmes, and moreover I don't want to." Blamed if I liked it pretty well, either, coming from a stranger, that * way. However, I started to get out •*. my bacon and beans, when Mr. Emer- ! flpn came and looked on a while, .and f then he takes me .Jhtole and says: In ^ «• " n,e ®e«.tes for my meat % V; V'#* 4 1h * .fiwe me cantharides to eat; ™ KD Jifi From sir and ocean bring me " ™ . From all zones mui altitudes. Says 1, " Mr. Emerson, if you'll ex- -©use me, this ain't no hotel." You see ' t' '• Jt sort of riled me -I warn't used to the • \ Always of littery swells. But I went on work, and next aside by the button- fmtm ^-sweating over my uDpmea Mr. Longfellow and buttonholes Hnd interrupts me. Says he: " Honor bs; to Mudjekeewis! You shall hbm how Fau-Puk Keewifi--" But I broke in, and says I, "Begging Wir pardon, Mr. Longfellow, if you'll j|e fo kind «s to hold your yawp for' thinking of when one wants to get hold About five minutes and let xne get this j of your nouse. Wise Sayings bj Josh Billings. A HUMBUG is like a bladder; don't amount to much until it is blown up, and then, like a bladder, one prick of a pin lets all the importance out of it. Genius hits the bull's-eye the first time, if it hits it at all. Talent hits it by long practice. I don't suppose there is an absolutely necessary man now living on the face of the earth, but you can hardly find one but what thinks he is the man Laughing is said to be a weakness, but the wisest men I ever knew were always on the lookout for a good laugh. All the great truths are the most Simple, just as simple as twice one are two. The real true friend is the one who tells you of yourfailings, but hides them from everybody else. I prefer a dead man to a thoroughly lazy one; you can bury the dead one, but I believe there is a law against burying the other fellow. Don't hunt for happiness, but hunt for as little misery as possible.--N. Y. Weekly. --Mort-gage is a Latin word, and means " aeath-grip." This is worth , Timber Killer*. THE boy, before he cuts his cusped teeth, lon^s for a hatchet or an ax; and he eyes with savage delight the beauty of the arbor or the forest. As he grows older the Destroying Angel takes pos­ session of him, and he imagines one of his missions in life is to destroy a good­ ly number of trees. In the wooded districts of the land, we acknowledge the necessity of felling the timber, and even destroying it, to make room for the farm and the advancing civiliza­ tion. But this enmity to trees has taken such hold of the sons of the forest-killers that, in traveling through sections where once grew the most luxuriant forests, you will find mag­ nificent maples and elms and beech, which were left as shade along the highways, girdled and dying, or dead. Go past their spacious farm-houses, and you will see stunted evergreens or some foreign shrub scattered over the lawn, and not a forest tree left with i Inviting shade. Cattle loll, with thei: tongues out, in the rich meadows, am tiot a friendlv tree inside of the lines 0 fence. The boy with his hatchet, ani father with his ax, have been the and, in the name of thrift and ente; prise, have destroyed what generatio to come after them cannot repl; Felling timber is all proper to a certaij point, and then it becomes vandalisi We declare now that the time has fu come when it should be somethi more than a poetic call to the woodm to " spare that tree." We should ha laws enacted in every State f< the protection of forest trees protect the wild deer of t woods, and the buffalo upon tl plains, and the birds that fly in the ail but glory in the man whose strong ari goes on from year to year felling forest trees, just as if no generation men were to live upon the earth afi we are done with it. The governme: of the States cannot too soon mal their enactments, and make it the dut of every man to plant forest trees alo the highways, and protect them would in this' single movement ha long lines of inviting trees stretch! out in every direction, giving comfoi to myriads of people. Aside from tf comfort, it is a matter of health ai wealth. Health, because the trees be; an important part in the purificatl of the air in using up the nauseous an] poisonous gases which are destructi to animal life. Wealth, because, fei all the forests and the rich soil wi gradually turn to barrenness. Withii the memory of our fathers springs ha run dry anu purling, noisy brooks havl been dried up because of the destrui tion and waste of our forests. It only an honorable desire which shoul actuate every man that lives upon thj earth to try to leave it at least as goi if not a little better, than he found i morally and physically. To-day, i the United States, according to statii tics, there is every year expended ii felling forest trees and manufacturi them into lumber $150,000,000. T hundred thousand men are employ in this occupation alone. What havi they are making among the tall pin and the poplars and the walnut wnic. in large quantities, we are shipping Europe. The question, does not come up one of arresting the legitimate use our magnificent forests for the use man--not at all. Fell the great o, and make the ties and lay the iron rai cut the pine, and erect the masts ai attach the sails in the name of co merce; but, while we fell, let us be w and plant, that those who come us shall have, springs to drink and] fertile soil to yield them the comfo and luxuries that we enjoy. What all these railroads be worth, or mar! fronts, when famine shall walk over land that is made sterile by the vand ism of selfish men running through tl generations. These are tacts, and n theories, in reference to the value forest trees, and no subject, contemplat­ ing the interests of the future, is more important and more pressingly neces­ sary than that of giving protection to our forest trees and plantinganew over the wasted districts of the country. Congress, a few years ago, offered inducements to settlers upon our free domain if they would cultivate forest trees. We do not know what the re­ sult so far has been, but if further en­ couragement is needed it should be given unstintedly. Meanwhile, let those already domiciled remember to plant the twig, that acominggeneration may enjoy the shade and bless them for their thoughtful kindness.--Chicago Inter- Ocean. Making Old Japanese Bronzes. BRONZES and'silks come in for a very large share of the exports of Kioto, and some of the work in bronze is of a superior character. I have heard se\ • eral amusing stories about bronzes an J the way they make them here. A mer­ chant of Kobe saw a pair of very old vases in a Kioto shop; there was nd doubt about their age, as they w ire eaten here and there by verdigris ind the tooth of time--old Teriijnis Edax Berum. He was surprised at the low price demanded, and immediately bought them, and then asked the shop­ keeper if he had any more. Thr latter said he had none, but would make them to order. " I don't want new vases," was the reply; "I wantoldones like these." "I'll make them for you," the shop­ keeper answered; " make then all just like these." The merchant gave the order, and in a month he had his new antiques, with the necessary stamp of Tcmpus Edax. He ordered some more, sent the con­ signment to London, and had the satis­ faction of clearing about 400 per cent, on the investment. The Japanese maker told him that the process of venerableizing bronzes was very sim­ ple. "Get strong vinegar," said he, " and boil them in it a few hours, and if you want to make them very old add a little acid." The same process has long been used at Birmingham in mak- ing Waterloo relics and Egyptian an­ tiquities, and the Japanese have not been blow to find it out. They are very clever at imitatioi s of any kind, and if you allow them a little latitude they will improve upon the model. The porcelain factory which I mentioned in a preceding paragraph had imitations of all kinds of ware from Japan and China, and the proprietor offered to re­ produce any sample which could be brought. " You can buy plenty of old ware here," said he, "but you had bet­ ter have it made, and then you know you are not cheated." Very good and practical advice.--Japan Corn T- Times. . . 1 The.American Agricultural Exhibit at the Paris Exhibition. ONLY the general plan upon which it is hoped the agrioultural exhibit may be arranged has as yet been considered. The details will be modified or extend­ ed, as circumstances may admit. Some idea of what this plan is may be gath­ ered from the following: In forestry, cuttings of every useful variety of tim­ ber wnicli grows in this country will be prepared, and each cutting will show, as far as is practicable, a section of the wood with the bark and grain, and the steps, followed by a great crowd of in quisitive people, and entered without taking off our shoes. We stood before the altar among the devout, whose prayers had the Christian merit of being short, though the suppliants made no scruples of being seen of men. There was a little shower of copper coins raining against the wire screen in front of the shrine, which fell upon a grating, and so finally into Buddha's pockets without a doubt. The screen was covered with pellets of chewed paper upon which the prayers had been written. The god could after business hours doubtless decipher the inscrip­ tions, and put the petition on file. There is a small wooden figure of Buddha accessible to the multitude^ and which may be considered the work­ ing Buddha; he was surrounded bv the atnieted. If one suffered from headache she rubbed the head very irreverently, and then the corresponding part of her own; if her affliction was in the elbow, the elbows were riibbed in the same manner, and so every part had its cor­ responding remedy. The features of the poor idol's face were worn com­ pletely away, and the whole figure was polished in a high degree by the long service he had performed as a healing medium. This is true homeopathy-- similia similihus curantur--and there can be no doubt of its efficacy, when so many millions through so many ages have practiced it, and have such un­ shaken faith in it. I stood for some moments watching the practice, and could not doubt, judging from the ex­ pressions on the faces, that their faith had made them whole. I noticed that the little Buddha who did all the work got no pay; but the big Buddha behind the screen got it all. The whole inte­ rior of the temple is hung with curios, among which I saw a framed picture of a steam-ship, and as we went out at a side door tjiere confronted us a large mirror, in order that none should go away dissatisfied, and worshipers of anot her class might pause and adore ! the image they saw in it. I stopped , there myself, and saw the ladies of our ' party all doing the same thing. From there we saw some side-shows, for the I whole surrounding is like a fair, and two-cent shows, with drum and fife, were abundant.--Cor. San Francisco Bulletin. --It is asserted of a Philadelphian that he died " worn out by too severe mental effort in the study of how to live without work." Youths' Department. LITTLE MISS MUSLIN CEIVES" ON NEW YEARS PAY. LITTLE MISS MDHUN. of Quintillion Square Had a great many serions crosses to bear; ' Yet, if one thin;; could trouble her more an­ other, It was (and indeed t'was too bad!) that her mother Had firmly avowed that for some years to come Poor little Miss Muslin must still stay at home .Frimi dinners and concerto and parties and balls, And was even too young to have beaux, or At Inst, little Miss Mnslin, of Quintillion Rqnare, One bright New Year's morning was heard to de­ clare She'd no longer submit; and that very same day, When the family all. save liemelf, were away, She #lrv««M»d herseif carefully--just tckal s&e Wore Fd not venture to say, though I'm morally sure There was not to be found in all Quintillion Square A more genteel young person than she anywhere. " There!" said little Miss Muslin, of Quintillion Square, As she put a last finishing touch to her hair And curtfiied quite low to herself in the glass, " There, my little Miss Muslin, I think you will pass. Just as though you veren't old enough to be 'cut!' Why, what could your dear mother be thinking about!" Then she hnrried down-stairs, for 'twas getting quite late. And sat down to " receive" in magnificent state. But litttle Miss Mnslin, of Quintillion Square, After waiting a Ion# while, arose in despair. "1 declare! If this isn't too bad!" exclaimed she. I don't ece where my gentlemen friends can all be! I'll just step to the front door and take a look out. Maybe they are some of them loitering about And afraid to come in. Why, this won't do at all! . To sit here all the evening and not have a calL" Yet, little Miss Muslin, of Quintillion Square, When she got to the door, could perceive no one there Save an ill-favored stranger, who looked np at her With a questioning glance--so she said, "My s. dear sir, Would you mind coming in just a moment, to call? To be sure, you don't seem a nice person at all; But perhaps you will do--I can't have people say That I haven t had even one caller to-day. "Butfirst," said Miss Muslin, of Quintillion Square, "I will take you ont into the dining-room where The refreshments are ready." And so, with a _ Knn, The stranger quite willingly followed her in. " Here are chicken and salad and mince-pies," said she, " Pray help yourself freely-- and here is cold tea. I do hope you'll excuse my not off'ring you wine,. But 111 never give that to a caller of mine!" So the stranger accordingly drew np a chair. And then sat down and ate nearly all that was there; Then arose and looked round. "Ah!" said he, "there's a closet. 1 suppose It is there that yon keep on deposit All this pliite and those elegant spoons I see here? Are you sure you can get them all in there, my deax?" " Oh, yes," cried Miss Mnslin, throwing open the door, " It will hold all our silver and very much mote." But, alas! poor Miss Muslin! The very same minute That she opened the closet she found herself in it. With the door closed and fastened behind her quite tight. Whereupon, she sank down, nearer perished with fright; • And perhaps 'twas five minutes, perhaps it was more. E'er she found strength to cry out and pound on the door. And 'twas some time, even then, before Bridget grot there To release poor Miss Mnslin, of Qnibtillion Square. She was no sooner ont than Miss Muslin's first care Was to look for the man. He was no longer there! It would seem he had made np his mind not to wait And had gone--taking with him the spoons and the plate. And although the police were soon put on his track, I am sorry to say that he never came back. As for little Miss Muslin, I don't thinlr you'll heai She received New Year's callers again for a year. --John Brownjohn, in Wide Awake. THE BUNA WAT SCHOLAR. HE was not a bad boy, I mean he neither lied nor swore; he loved his fa­ ther and mother, and he was a favorite at school; in fact, he was the best Latin scholar in the class. Why he ran away was rather a mystery to me, and yet I think I understood it better than any one else. Charlie Butler and I had a room at "Denville Academy," that is we studied in one of the rooms and came in when the bell rang and recited. He was then about sixteen years old, and I was one year older. We studied Algebra, Latin and Geometry together, for by his aid I could keep up in the classes pretty well, but he was far su­ perior to me. Beside he could play chess and beat any other bby. On the whole he was something quite extraordinary, and we prophesied that he would become a great man. We were preparing for col­ lege and used to talk over our futures, sometimes. " I tell yoii what, Jack, I seem half sick of going to college." " No you are not," I said, " you will do this old academy credit." : " I tell you I would not go if I did not want te please the governor; but it would break his heart if I should not go through." " What would you do--what are you thinking ofP" "I don't know, I am sure; bat I want to see something of the world, and see the Chinese and Hindoos, and all of that sort of thing." "Just like Bill SweepstakesP" "Why, how did you know anything about him?" " Oh, I saw the book under the lounge cushions after you went out the other day. You hid it from me pretty well, but I read it. I don't believe in all that stuff. Things are not so easy as he makes out." " Well, Jaek, I'd like such adventures with the Malays--shooting down those fellows is good enough for them. I've got a revolver that would do the job." "I'll bet you, Charlie, that the man who wrote that had never been out of sight of land, never saw a Malay, and would run quick enough if Weston's old cow should run after him." "Wouldn't I like to be left on an island like RoHnson Crusoe P" " No that must have been too much like a penitentiary--no one to speak to." " He had his man Friday." " Yes, but what was he. Robinson was glad enough to come away. Be­ side Defoe wrote that--it is all imagi­ nation." I did not think that Charlie really thought of putting his ideas into prac­ tice; but such was his determination. | Some months after this, he came in one I day, and said: "Jack, don't you say a word about what I am going to say." I promised, but feared he nad com- { mitted a murder, accidentally, of eonrse, so solemn was'his manner. If * l' " I'm going to sea!" W '•£ > " What, really, sure nowP*i " Yes, I cannot stand it here any longer, I cannot breathe. X want more room." " How your father will be disappoint­ ed, won't he?" " Yes, and mother, too, but I cannot help it.'* The books of adventure he had read had excited his imagination, and his plans were laid. One morning I went to school, and my chum was missing. I said nothing at roll-call. I felt sad, and lonely, beside I had a dreadful secret. The morning hours rolled slowly away, and at last the lessons were all done and we were on our way home. I had to pass Mr. Butler's house, and, as I feared, there Was Mrs. Butler standing on the piazza looking for Charlie--he, vas the youngest son, and a pet. I pretended not to see her, and hoped to get past unobserved. But I was mistaken. " John, John." Still I did not inok- , "John, John--Mrs. Butler is calling you," said some of the boys. " What do I care--I am in a hurry. Some of you go and see what she wants." And so saying I hurried on, but her eye detected my movement. "John Dennis, please come here.** I went slowly up the walk, debating what to say to her questions. She was a, kind, motherly woman, and I had often eaten doughnuts and mince-pie in her kitchen, with Charlie. " Where is Charlie?" said she, look­ ing at me. I turned around and looked at the boys, as if to see if he was amoiig them, and replied: " He was not at school to-day."* Then I faced around and contrived to look her in the eye, " He went up to Mrs. Smith's, yesterday, after school, and meant to stay all night, but I cer­ tainly thought he would be at school to­ day." So I went on my way home, un­ happy enough. Before school opened next morning the news had spread-- Charles Butler had gone to sea. He reached New York and found a place on a ship, just about to sail for Hamburgh. The Captain agreed to S've him $10 a month and his board, e had not been out but a few days before he found the life on ship-board most repulsive and oppressive. The Captain and crew were ignorant and rough men; they all swore oaths and used filthy language. There was noth­ ing attractive but the blue ocean and the starlit sky--these soon had a same­ ness worse than the routine of the les­ sons in the academy. Charlie hoped things would improve in Hamburgh, but on his arrival everyone was set to work to unload the vessel,, then they scraped and cleaned all the wood-work and repaired the sails. By this time the Captain had got a return load and all hands were set to woik to roll in barrels and lift heavy boxes. When all was done the ship started on her return trip. The life of a sailor Charlie founa was that of a day laborer; he had never been used to work so hard, and the task proved an unpleasant one. Still, he felt desirous of trying it again, and on arriving at New York, hired ont on a ship bound to Monte Video. It went out loaded with kerosene oil, lard and meal, and came back with hides. The smell of these was exceedingly offensive to But­ ler, but there were no means of escape. Then he sailed out on an Australian ship, and at Australia found miners going to the mines, and went with them. Here he worked, for he felt ashamed to come home with nothing to show for his trip, but no more g6ld could be found than would pay for his food and clothes. Finally, he came back to the coast and determined to start for the home, that now, after his wandering, seemed so pieasant to him. He found a ship bound for Liverpool and took passage as one of the crew; his health began to fail and a slow fever set in that nearly carried him off. When he arrived in England, after a long voyage, he was carried to the hos­ pital, where he spent many weary weeks before he could start for Amer­ ica. At this period he reflected how foolish and wild he had been, and longed for the old house under the elms alia his mother's voice. To return home, he sailed aa a "man before the mast"--more hard work, more companionship with .men who were rude and degraded. One espe­ cially, was better fitted to be a convict than a sailor--this man was constantly desiring Butler to light, constantly taunting with being a saint because he would not drink whisky, curse or gam­ ble. "Saint Butler, come and fight me," said the stout bully perpetually to the young sailor, and the rest ap­ plauded. In spite of his efforts to be peaceable, the convict purposely con­ trived to crowd him on the gangway, so that Butler was obliged to push back in order to save himself from falling. At this the bully struck him a fearful blow, and before anyone could ^inter­ fere, the. young man s face and head were pounded almost to a jelly. Thus his homeward voyage was filled "with bitterness, and he landed in New York thoroughly sick of his associates. " If they were "only like the men I knew in Denville I should have been happy, but the best men seem to stay at home." Charlie Butler received a warm wel­ come, for he was a favorite with all who knew him. He was a changed being; hardship and sickness had so­ bered him. •' How about4 more room,1 CharlieP" said I, one day. " No room so pleasant as this," said he, looking around his mother's sittinir- room. " How about Robinson Crusoe?" " Robinson Crusoe is well enough to read about, but it isn't gdod to practice. I am going to cateh up with you in col­ lege, though you have a year's start, see if I don't." "I thought you were siok of col­ lege." " I was a dunce to believe those sto­ ries I read in those books and papers. They are all lies, and, Jack, I warn you to leave them alone. There is no enjoyment like that civilized Christian people have discovered; but it took me some time to find it out; that's all."-- John B. Dennis, in N. T. School nal. . : «