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> * I " ' J , * * % ' sk; FAMOUS DUEL. "-.- f! of an exchange, , , from Austin, Tex., Allowing account of a re- •uurkable old-time duel: Of all the; 3»pious duels recalled perhaps none wu more remarkable thahm»fMMit Ae*tiJfew oity l*y l>eaf Smith and CdLMortoA. Aboufctwo, yeal*, after the Texan Revoliiit|&a, * dnRotftty occurred be- twflftk tm %ew'Ga*eriunent and a por- tlort itff',iAl»>^e«p}e, which threatened serious oonseqmSnces. Briefly, the Con­ stitution mifr Austin the permanent capital, IJutein powered the President to order the temporary removal of the archives in case of danger from a for- «${Qji enemy or sudden insurrection. ranK&ng that the exceptional emer­ gency had arrived, as the Comanehes Were" committing ravages within sight •of the capital, Resident Houston, who then resided at Washingtofl, on the Brazos, dispatched an order command­ ing his subordinates to send the State $icords to that town. It Is impossible to describe the ex­ citement which the promulgation of this order raised in Austin. The keep­ ers, of hotels, boarding-houses, gro­ ceries and faro-banks were aghast. The measure would be a death-blow to their business. A mass-meeting was •called, and the farmers of the surround­ ing country, who were all more or less interested in the question, came in. After many fiery speeches, it was unanimously resolved to prevent the removal of the archives. Four hun­ dred armed men volunteered to guard the State-House. The Com­ mander of this force was Col. Mor­ ton, who had distinguished himself in the war for independence, and more Mcently in two desperate duels, in both of which he had cut his antagonists nearly to pieces with the bowie-knife. Indeed, from his reputation for vin- dictireness as well as courage, it was tbdught that President Houston would renounce his purpose as soon as he should learn who was the leader of the opposition. Mortem swore that if the Bresident succeeded in removing the records, he would himself hunt him dt>wn like a wolf. He even wrote the fcero of San Jacinto to that effect. The kittier replied "in* 'a note of laconic -brevity: ! 'l If the people of Austin do not send the archives, I shall eerfeunly oome aad take tham; if Col. Morton can kill me he is welcome to JBI$t eiw-eap. On the reception of this answer the tard was doubled around the State •use, chosen sentinels were stationed along the road leading to the Capitol, armed men patrolled the streets, and a select committee went into permanent JMssion in the City Hall. f{j One day this committee "were sur ppsed by the sudden appearance of a 4$t]anger, whose mode of entering the •$pom was as extraordinary as Ms looks and dress. He did not knock at the •closed door, but climbing a small, bushy-topped live oak, which grew be- £kie the wall, he leaped through a lofty /^ndow. He was clothed in buckskin, i#arried a long and heavy rifle in his -fcaapl, wore at the bottom of his left . •WfflBder a large bowie knife, and had fn his leathern Belt a couple of pistols half the length of Ms gun. He was tall, straight as an arrow, active as a panther in his motions. He had a dark ^Complexion, luxuriant, jetty hair and •piercing Mack eyes. ' '""Who are you who thus presume to intrpde among gentlemen without in- V vitation?" demanded Col. Morton, in his most ferocious maimer. r.^Tpie stranger returned Ids stare with a-KQpmponnd interest, and laid' his long, tonyj&nger on his lip.. * >Who sure you? Speak! or I'Htrut : *n answer out of your heart!" shouted ' Morton. The stranger removed his , er from his lip, and laid it on the ; of his monstrous knife. The fiery Colonel drew his knife, but itsm seized and held back. "Let him alone, Morton, for God's sake,'1 ex- edPT^s friends. " Do you not see _hte fs crazy?" ! ! ' i > , %M t&is moment. Judge Webb, a man i .shrewd and courteous manners, ,istept>ed forward and addressed the in- Mfpmae courteously: '• ' * ' ; Ji?" ... . . 6 • Mv good friend, I presume you have 5p£§ i'H&de a mistake in the house. This is a tiki vale meeting, where none but mem' ( , | b c £ 3 a r e a d m i t t e d , . The%traager did not appearto com* j»rehe#d the words; 'but he did 'the • ooortesy, Waltzing to a table in the , -cefcter of the hall he seized a pen and rftaoed one l!n?, " I am deaf." - ii Webb took the paper and >«VN>te a.ai}£stion: " Dear Sir : Will you ./bo so obliging m to inform us what Is • tfoar fastness with the meeting?" <st»' • ' The stranger at once handed Mm a ' letter* inscribed, " To the Citizens of ' •' Austin." He broke the seal and read it dloud. It was from Houston: . . .J&aiuom-CmiZENB; 'Though in error, and de- " oirtfed by the an t* of traitors. 1 will gim^o* thm 4h9>SU^( to decide whether yon will sumpider the public archives, At the end of that time yea i^UTpleMie let Me know yonr decision . . ; • Sue Bovmnm. l-'te. ) After the reading the deaf man wait- :4>d for a few seconds, as if for a reply, . and then turned and was about to leave *1 'the hall when Col. Morton sternly beck- .' kmed Mm back to the table. The Jfcranger obeyed, and Morton wrote: *' You were bravo enough to insult me by your threatening looks ten minutes ago; are you brave enough now to give ^ 'me satisfaction?" 11* stranger penned his reply: "I am •t your service!" Morton wrote again: " Who Will be J^our second?" «. The stranger rejoined: "I am tod ; ̂ «eaerous to seek an advantage, and too - i ' wave to fear any on the part of oth- Jrs' t^,ere^ore I never need the aid of a Hufecond." Morton wrote: "Name your terms." The stranger wrote, without a mo- _ hesitation: "Time, sunset this oveniqg; place, the left bank of the Col- v«0rado, opposite Austin: weapons, rifles, distance a hundred yards. ' Do nof to be in time." thea walked across the floor, and "^•disappeared through the window as #; ;OT«®ndaeplT as he entered. I < a r , " l ""What!" exclaimed Judge Webb, *' ia it possible you intend to " .whose name standf^n the reoords of a dozen battles and at least half as many bloody duels. Beside, he is a favorite emissary and bosom friend of Hous­ ton. If I have the good fortune to kill him, I think it will tempt the Pres­ ident to retract his vow against ven­ turing any more upon the field ufhonor." " You know tne man, then? Who is heP" asked twenty voices together. "Deaf Smith." "Nor that cannot be. Deaf Smith was killed at San Jacinto," said Judge Webb. ' "There, again, Totir Honor is mis­ taken," said Morton. " The story of Smith's death was a mere fiction, got up by Houston to save the life of his favorite from the sworn vengeance of certain Texans, on whose conduct he had acted as a spy. I found that out twelve months agp." "Then you are a madman yourself!" exclaimed Webb. "Deaf Smith Was never known to miss his mark." "The thing is settled," said Morton. "I have agreed to meet him. There can be no disgrace in falling before such a shot, and if I kill him it will be the greatest feat of my life." Toward evening a vast crowd assem­ bled to witness the meeting, and so great was the popular recklessness as to affairs of this sort, that bets were of­ fered and taken on all sides upon the result. At sunset the two men arrived, with long, heavy Rifles, took their places, back to back, and at a signal walked slowly and steadily off in oppo­ site directions, counting their steps un­ til each had measured tifty. They both completed the given number at about the same instant, and wheeled around. As the distance was great, both paused for some seconds. The face of Col. Morton was calm and smiling. The face of Deaf Smith was as stern and im­ passive as ever. The Colonel was in broadcloth, the scout in smoke-tinted leather. The two rifles exploded at the same instant. Col. Morton sprang into the air and dropped to the earth, dead. Deaf Smith quietly reloaded* his rifle, and walked away into the forest. Three days afterward, Gen. Houstoli, accompanied by Deaf Smith and tell other men, appeared in Austin and; re­ moved the State papers. * Deaf Smith was one of the most ex­ traordinary characters ever known In the West. He made nis advent in Texas at an early period, and contin­ ued to reside there until his death, which occurred, I believe, about 1850. But, although he had many warm friends, no one ever learned where he had been born or any particulars of his previous history. W hen he was ques­ tioned on the subject, he laid his finger on his lip. His eye was quick and far- seeing1 as an eagle's, and his nose as keen as a raven's. He could discern objects miles away on the prairie when others saw nothing but earth and sky; and the savages used to declare he could catch the scent of a Mexican or an Indian at as great a distance as a buzzard his dinner. He could never be persuaded to sleep under the roof of a house, or even a tent cloth. • «•--#)- • W. • •JNS* ' #*» K^OOIWH; JTW14 illLCiiU W lUBK that ". "*nan, Colonel? He is a mut^grnot a Iriaaiac. Such a meeting, I fear, Will j^adly tamish your laurels." * "You are mistaken," id rton4 muflf hero \ . V + ' -'" t * -- . . V , . . . . . » Ufe in Spain. Honest Under Temptatian. In an address to the Boston Young Men's Christian Union, Hon. E. R. Mudge told the following story of integ­ rity exhibited under strong temptation to do wrong: An educated gentleman, a foreigner, came to Boston to better his condition. He arrived here a few days after the great fire, and found it impossible to obtain suitable employment. After spending what little money he had, he was forced to take suoh work as he could get. It was that of a common day laborer in one of our large cloth­ ing-houses, which had been burned out, and had removed to a store where there was no hoisting apparatus. The business of the gentleman, a graduate of an English university, was to carry up heavy baskets of clothing to the upper stories of the building. At length this work was denied him, as the firm did not require his services any longer. It was just at this time that his case was reported to me by one of our Episcopal clergy, who had noticed him as a constant worshiper in his church, which is a free one. I consented to see the man and look 4it his papers, which clearly identified him. After some conversation with him. 1 promised to see what could be don© toward finding1 him employment. I determined to ascertain all that was possible in regard to him since he had •ten in the city, and, therefore, went to the house where he was boarding, and asked to see the landlord. On taking him aside, I said, " You have a lodger known by such a name?" He replied, " Yes; why do you ask?" 1 told him. The landlord then went on to say he hfd never seen a more perfect gentle­ man; that he told him when he first came to the house that he had not much money; that he was in quest of employ­ ment, etc., etc. He further said that, as time went on, he paid promptly his board at the end of every week, until about ten days be­ fore, when he came to him and said: "My money is all gone; I have had some work, but this has failed me, and now I will leave your house unless you choose to keep me on the chance of my ability to find employment." The answer was, " Stay for the pres­ ent" y " But," said the host, "I have some­ thing further to tell you about that man. Last Sunday he-came to my clerk with a large roll of bank bills in his hand, and said, ' I found these on the floor of the hall near my chamber door. I wish you, sir, to fina the owner of this money.'" Now think of the straits to which this man was reduced when his eye lighted on that roll of bills! What temptation could have been stronger? A stranger in a strange land, out of employment, and not a dollar in his pocket, and no means of obtaining one! The immediate result of this was that his board was paid until employ­ ment was found in the West for him, and from that time to the present, nearly five years, he has been assisted in finding employment, for he has re­ quired a friend, as he could not remain in the West, owing to chills and fevers which he had oontMWteA^ftMp:^ Youth s Companion. ̂ THKRK was one custom' J^TWAFERTT among the better class, which 1 had an opportunity of learning in Seville and Granada--but I should be doubtful whether it still exists. It is one of those ancient, almost poetic, habits of soeiety, which disappear with the increase of travel. It occurred to me several times, on entering a cafe in either of the two cities I have mentioned, that, on call­ ing the waiter to pay him for the choc­ olate, or ice, or whatever else I might have ordered, he replied: "It is paid already, senor." "But who paid it?" was my natural question. The waiter's reply was, invariably, "I don't know who it was." If I then said, "Show me which gentleman it was," he always answered, "He has gone away." It was simply an ancient custom, which suggests the refined and noble hospital­ ity of the Arab race. Some nati ve gen­ tleman had perccived that I was a for­ eigner, and had himself paid my bill as a welcome to Spain. In order that I might feel no obligation, I was not al­ lowed to know him, and the waiter an­ swered me in accordance with this an­ cient and sacred rule. ; I have never found, any where else in the world, a courtesy so generous and delicate. The Oriental habit of saying, " My house is yours," or " at your disposal," is retained in Spain; and, of course, it must not be taken too literally. So is the universal custom among the people, high and low, of never sitting down to eat without inviting all who may be ac­ cidentally present to partake of the cheer. The conventional answer is, "Many thanks; may it be good provis­ ion for you!"--yet if any one, through ignorance or pressing need, should ac­ cept, he would certainly receive his share. In traveling from Mexico to Vera Cruft by stage, a good many years ago, I found it almost impossible to pay for a meal. Some one of the na­ tive passengers was sure to have set­ tled, in advance, with the landlord for the breakfast or dinner of the whole company. This is not a mere matter of ostentation with the Spanish people, or they would not take such pains to con­ ceal their hospitality. It is an inherit, ed habit, which has almost the force or a religious duty. In strict connection therewith, an­ other custom prevails, which I first learned in Andalusia. I had hired a* horse in Granada, for the journey to Gibraltar byway of Malaga and Ronda, and this included a second horse, with a mozo--groom, guide, companion and servant in one. I was fortunate in hav­ ing a gay, light-hearted, honest fellow, who shortened the way for me when­ ever the rough bridle-path was wide enough for two to ride abreast. When we halted at noon, the first day, to feed ourselves and horses, Jose went into the kitchen aad helped prepare the meal; then, when all was ready, he washed his hands, coolly took a seat at the table, and helped liimself to the omelette and stewed kid. I was rather surprised, but said nothing. In the evening the same thing happened again; and finally, on the- third day, Jose, having become free and confiden­ tial toward me, said: " You are not like the Englishmen, Senor. I have traveled with them, and they won't al­ low me to eat with them, according to our Spanish custom. Well, when that happens, I don't go into the kitchen, except for myself, and they don't fare as well as you do, I can tell you!" He was right; it is the ordinary habit of the country; and I must say that not only Jose, but all other attendants I employed in Spain, conducted them­ selves like gentlemen as my compan­ ions at meals. This and other similar customs evi­ dently account for the democratic manners of the Spaniards. Except the Arabs, I do not think there is a more dignified or self-possessed race of men in the world. A timid or embarrassed Spaniard is a phenomenon. The man or woman lowest in the social scale-- even the beggar in the streets--will talk with a Grandee of the blue blood, or the King himself, not only without cringing, but without apparent confu­ sion of manner. One great charm of travel in Spain is the circumstance that the traveler may feel himself peiji*! fectly free to speak to every one whonv- he meets, sure that a eivil remark wijn bring a civil answer, and that anhonesL J genial manner will lead to immediatf v cordial acquaintance. The ease anes~ frankness of the women is something- very delightful I have found the sarnib characteristic among the country wom­ en of Sweden, who are of kindred Gothic blood;, and it still lingers, as a relic of past manners, in some of the older parts of our country. In Andalusia the perfect self-posses­ sion of the race is more evident than in Catalonia, where, as there is more strength of character, so there is more reticcnce. The mixture of Saracenic ancestry in the people about Granada and Ronda is clearly to be seen, not only/in complexion and features, bat in many phrases, which have been simply translated, not changed. The children have the same precocious dignity as in Egypt and Syria. I shall never forget the gravity of a boy of ten, who, after lighting me to my bed in the garret of a little mountain inn, said, "Are you afraid?" I laughed, and answeiea " No!" "Well," he re­ marked, "you might get afraid in the sight. If you should, just knock on this wall" (pointing to it:) " /sleep in the room on that side, and when I hear you knock 1 will get up and come to you!" Another boy, quite a child, once said to me, with a face like a re­ vival preacher's: "You must not sit near the window. There are depraved people in the streets, and as you are a stranger here, you would not know them, and they might lead you into temptation." The innocence in these cases was so genuine that one could not laugh at the little fellows, but only bless them.«-jBovar<i Tayle*r w N. I. Tribune. whiled the god Mercury stepped light­ ly through the golfed arena and touched each body with his red-hot wand to see if it still moved, or Pluto stalked forth to dispatch those yet alive with his mace, and drag them by the feet to his infernal kingdom. The most licentious myths of the old religions, as well as the cruelest legions, were freely exhausted, and thus, oy a grim but unconscious irony, the Christian martyrs in person supplied, as repre­ sentatives of the new religion, the ghastly apotheosis of the old. Mean­ while Nero, dressed up as a beast in a leopard's skin, committed in person the foulest excesses on the public stage. But the most novel part of this popu­ lar festival was reserved for the even­ ings. Then might the whole of the population be seen pouring toward the spot now known as the great square in front of St. Peter's at Rome. There, beyond the Tiber, was Nero's favorite circus. The illumination was brilliant. The usual lamps and torches were varied by a new device worthy of Tie- gellinus. Living men and women were immersed in barrels of oil or thickly covered with resinous materials and set on fire, until the crowded avenues reeked with the fumes of unguents and pitch, amid the lurid glare of this unparalleled holocaust. Nero dressed as a charioteer, and terrified horses were urged tip and down the course, after which the Emperor, attired as a jockey, mixed freely with the people, going the round of his broiling and agonized vic­ tims. Had the early Christians, had the writers of the New Testament, no cause for hating a world that reveled in such spectacles as this? Could they do otherwise than wait in hope and pa­ tience for the " Lord," who should con­ sume "that Wicked with the spirit of His mouth, and destroy him -with the brightness of His comingP" Yet were these scenes graced by tender and sub­ lime episodes, bursting like flow­ ers of immortal beauty and fra­ grance from the bloody and calcined soil of martyrdom. The pale, sweet Blandina, crucified but happy, and making others happy with the memories of Christ; Potamiena and Felicity melting the brutal crowd by their quiet sweetness and modesty; Perpetua arranging her hair carefully as she goes in to be torn by beasts, " be­ cause it was not right that a martyr should appear with her hair in disor­ der, as though what was really her glory should appear to be grief to her." One simple girl so touched by her sweet patience and beauty the heart of a young Roman that he openly pitied her. Seeing this, she was moved, and gave him as she passed along the handker­ chief that was on her bosom. Over­ powered with enthusiasm, he followed her into the arena and shared her fate. Thus death seemed more lovely than life, and the love that could suffer proved stronger than the hate that could kill the body.--Good Words. Fatal Panic at a Circus noIn France. Performance A COBRESPONDENT writing to the Lon­ don Times says: Calais is in a state of gloomy excite­ ment, owing to an accident last night, accompanied by heavy loss of life, and caused, there is much" reason to fear, from practical joking carried to a fool­ ish extent. An Italian circus, from Mi­ lan, belonging to Messrs. Priami and Pierantoni, constructed of wood and capable of accommodating between 8,000 and 4,000 persons, was erected on the Grande Place, where the bi-annual fair is being held. Last night it was crowded. Upward of 1,600 persons were refused admittance. Reserve seats face the entrance; the first-class seats are in the front rows, the second- class are in the back and gallery. Dur­ ing the whole of the performance a number of young workmen in the gal­ lery kept making a noise. Toward the end of the performance, during the rep­ resentation of the pantomime, "Le Medec in de Champagne," this band of young men rose from their seats, caus­ ing those near to follow their example. At this moment an unknown person shouted " Au feu' causing an imme­ diate stampede down the inclined plane !tl,or side of the circus, serving for Nero and the Christi&n Martyrs. MYTHOLOGY was ransacked for bloody subjects to put on an awful stage. The pictures ana statues were turned into ghastly tableaux-vivants, amid the yell- mgs and applause of a brutalized pub­ lic. Now it was Hercules burned in his Nessus shirt on Mount CBta, or Or­ pheus or Daedalus devoured by beasts, Ltij^soUt stand la . . now better than cy. Ill IS "-wtA.au work in his line, in the stead of outward, aTfrocfe" immediately ensued, people jumping down from the gallery^ upon those jostling below. Monvoisin, Commissaire de Police, with M. Durette, Commandant, and other officers, used their utmost en­ deavors to calm the audience. Many kept their seats, but others, in a panic, burst open the outer inclosure, and jumped into the street. Others, again, occupying the second places, broke down the partition dividing them from the first, and pushed into the front rows, then into the arena, and so out through the stables and the stage door. Four nremen, always on duty at the stables, one of them a bugler, hearing the first alarm of fire, and seeing the people rushing out, shouted out "Fire!" The watchman at the adjoin­ ing belfry immediately rang the note of warning, alarming the town and garrison. The infantry and artillery were soon on the spot. Though not needed to extinguish the fire, they did useful service in conveying the wounded to the Hotel de Ville. From a pile of bodies around the door there were taken nine corpses--two men, four boys, one woman and two girls. A quarter of an hour later another boy died. This morning, two were found mortally, three severely and fourteen slightly wounded. Among the victims are a father and a little girl, the father struggling to save the child; both were ultimately bruised to death. -^-A Philadelphia lawyer agreed with a turnpike company of that city to bring a suit against the city for no compensation if he recovered no more than $20,000. He got a verdict of $70,- 000, and collected the money, paying the company $20,000, the President, who brought him the case, about $4,000,- and keeping the remainder. The city is trying to recover. LORD DERBY'S MOTTO---"Invincible in peace, invisible in war." Itellgloitt. "•'•f W'M'lidBBATB ^ f'fV .J' ' •" Mi •' ' V HoW enraer to methe ehime _ ~-r --Of Sabbath bella--whoae ch&unting tella ' '^*tioti, pretty near it; at ail events he ... Ofrest from toil, and earthV tarmoil>~ i »•. «§£ainiS to. .. I- . n g H The minimum Christian is not glear insist large, fashionable parties, give him %ntich trouble. He canfcot see the harm iin this or that or the other popular *"^ amusement. There is nothing in the ;Biblerag)Mft4f it. He does not~see but* gthat a man may be a Christian and® 'dance, or go to the opera. He ^several excellent persons who do. WJyr ft. nm iivui wu. WB DM Onexdon of holy time. T. t drink the blemed air, > j : 7 That Beems to be aa pure and free 1. • As that which playea in Eden's tlMabi-v'j- Efe sin breathed venom there. , No «ound afflicts the calm; <. ^ ( Bnt voice of birds, and lowing heinft. To my worn heart glad peaoe impart. And to its woes sweet balqi. > its woes sweet _ I drive the world* away; Mt: >?j I bid its gains--its joys and pains-* Disturb me not;_and these forgot^M i t f should not .he? • Se stands so close '^to^* Welcome the Sabbath day. Vouchsafe, O God! I pray, Upon my head, Thy love to shed. And to my heart Thy grace impa*f|>^i That joy may crown this day. •>' * „ And when the Sabbath chime Ceases on earth, may a new birth My so»1 prepare, to breathe the air Of Heaven's pure Sabbath clime! -- William C. Michardg, in Chicago Standatit. Ma . Snndaj-Sclioel Lessons. Tir.ST QUAKTZR. 1878. Mch. 3.--Aliax* Persist'iit Wick- ' " "* Mch. 10- Hez'kiah's Good Reion. 2 Chron.29 Mch. 17.--He>»»»kiah and the Assyrians. .2 Chron.32: 9-2L Mch. 24. Manaftseh Brought to Ita£ntance: .2 Chron^S: 9-18. Voh.31.--Beview of the Lessons for the Quarter. Mr. Moody at Hartford. IT has been a remarkable sight, some­ thing never before witnessed in Hart­ ford, to see such great audiences as­ sembled two or three times a day to listen to the Scripture teachings of an unlettered man, whose strength is to be found in his plainness of speech and his earnestness. While there are some who question the methods employed, as working rather on the emotions than on the intellect, those who have attend­ ed the meetings must agree that the general result is good. Mr. Moody's stronghold is the Bible. Jn every ad­ dress ne has brought the great truths of the Bible home to the hearts of his hearers in a manner to make them feel that it is the 4>ook of books for everyday life. There is no fear that such teaching oan do any harm. On the contrary, it has doubtless accom­ plished great good in quickening the iaith of professed Christians, and in leading many others to accept the Bible as their guide. He has not en­ deavored to teach faith in any particu­ lar creed or to upbuild any sect, but to preach Christanity as the faith to live and to die by. He has spoken earnest words against all dishonesty or sham, in business or in morals, and by endeavoring to lead men to live Christian lives has done a great work for the benefit of society at large, by encouragement to lives of honesty, temperance and un­ selfishness. There is always need of such a work as this in this world, where the contest between good and evil is so often an unequal one. The good re­ sult of his work is not to be measured, alone by the number of new members that may be added to our churches. This is indeed a secondary matter. It is rather to be found in the number of those who have switched oflf from the downward grade and are making hon­ est efforts, with Divine assistance, to lead better lives. There are doubtless many men in this city who have hon­ estly desired, for the sake of themselves and their families, if for no higher rea­ son, to abandon evil habits, but have been waiting for a convenient season. It is always easier to keep on down-hill than to turn resolutely around. To some of these the present offers an op­ portunity when they can find a tide setting in the right direction, and it is less difficult to begin the work of re­ form. The work accomplished in this way is of inestimable value, and has, we doubt not, brought joy to many homes. And this of itself is a gain for which all good people will be grateful that the Gospel meetings have been held.--Hartford Daily Couramt. ** A Devent Life* DEVOUT \iife has untold power. Like the forces of Nature, it is often hidden or obscure, but it holds and shakes the world. Men may refuse to hear your preaching; they are not able to evade the argument of a blameless and holy- life. The aroma of it fills all the at­ mosphere; its doctrines distill like the gentle dew, or like the small rain on the mown grass; its lines go out through all the earth, its word to the end of the world; there is no speech or language where its voice is not heard. Your re­ ligion, to be of any worth, must be such a life. Profession is well, but it is only the gateway to the life--only the sign of the inward substance. The Gospel was not proclaimed to give you a creed, but to render possible to you a devout life. You will be a power among men, not in proportion to your knowledge, or your natural endowment, but in pro­ portion to the sanctity and fullness of your religious life.--ZWs Herald. to be excused. He is very friendly to (home and foreign missions and eolport- ~ «p>j_»*d gi«» mmm. (Wi tnene are too many appeals, k„ glfes, if not enough to save hia reputa- Ihe dividing line between the people of , God and the world that it is. hard to say.** ,-on which side of it he is actually to be i * , found. ' ***? ̂ Tie Minimum Christian. THE minimum Christian! And who is he? The Christian who is going to be saved at the cheapest rate possible; the Christian who intends to get all the world he can, and not meet the world­ ling's doom; the Christian who aims to have as littUu religion as he may, with­ out lackin^ii altogether. The minimum Christian goes to church in the morning, and in the aft­ ernoon also, unless it rains, or is too waftn, or too cold or he is too sleepy, or has a headache from eating too mubh dinner. He listens most respect­ fully to the preacher, and joins in the prayer and praise. He applies the truth very judiciously--sometimes to himself, often to his neighbors. The minimum Christian is very friendly to all good works. He wishes them well; but it is not in his power to do much for them. The Sabbath-School he looks upon as an admirable institu­ tion, especially for the neglected and the ignorant. It is not convenient, however, for him to take a class. His business engagements are so pressing during the week that he needs Sunday as a day of rest; nor does he think him­ self qualified to act as a teacher. There are so many persons better prepared for I this important duty, that ne must beg ijlji little religion, you miss it altogether;^ lest, without gaining the whole world, ***** '{you lose your own ^oul.-- The Carnival of Yen!#! ̂ *,;*' ! THERE comes a time to the sea-city'.. when the heaviness of mid-winter van-'k^ ishes from the hearts of the people, and^V* ' in its stead appears a budding hope, rad JIKe a dim intuition of the approach of spring. The impressionable Venetian * nature reveals in its external shows the " emotions that are at work under the; : surface of the city's life. Thus the , burst of triumph at the departure of the , winter, which has not yet given place to the tender silence of the spring, finds ? its symbol in the mirth and riot of the Carnival. The fishermen who toil in storm and wind out upon the treacherous lagoons'" deny themselves their daily share of; * polynta in order that they may spend more freely in Carnival. ' The women, stringing beads in the doorways, work1' faster as the merry time approaches, *' '• that the children may have at least one treat of panna and frittole. The girls, t w sewing in dark back-rooms, toil for weeks far into the night for the sake of the one day's masking with their lovers. The children in the streets cover their faces with paper masks and cry out to the passers-by in the hoarse voice that the city's traditions have consecrated to the mad season. In the narrow by­ ways hang worn garments of silk and satin covered with gold and lace. They flash together in the sunlight that steals1; down between the houses--the brocaded <"t coat of the old noble--the threadbare t velvet trains of dead and gone great,, ladies--the torn gauze skirt of some poor dancing-girl. As the time of the Carnival draws t near, the faces of the people color with, hope and excitement. The women leave their households and pour into the sun-warmed streets, brave in scarlet- and-yellow shawls, with heavy braids! coiled about their heads. On theirr necks and wrists are the long, slender gold chains that have come down through generations of toiling woman­ hood. The young girls stroll in groups along the riva glancing from under their powdered lashes at the stalwart gondoliers. Their trains sweep fir behind them, and large fans protect them from the western sun. The boatmen don their festa shirts and deck their worn, broad hats with feathers. The fishers patch afresh their old blue coats, and mend the rents in their red, Greek 'caps. The peasants leave their low cabins among the dead vines and press into the town with baskets of eggs and fowls, that are to be traded for their lodging in thfe days of the Carnival. From the sleepy old towns of the in­ terior come the pale citizens. . They have a dispirited, listless look, as though they had dwelt all their lives under the shadow of a past that had weighed oppressively upon them. They are haggard and pinched and wistful- eyed. . There is shabbiness in the thin, well-kept silj^s of the women, their over-large, well-cleaned gloves, and their fashions of twenty years back; in the threadbare cloaks ana rusty, once elegant, hats of the men; in the rude, home-made jackets and trousers of the grave-eyed little boys. They are v courteous and dignified. They gaae at the merry shows of the Carnival as though they felt that naught could dis­ sipate the gloom of the past. For them life is less real than the dreams of the old market-places and cathedrals of their homes. The Venetians jostle them in the crowds and laugh at their poor finery; and they, all unconscious, smile in a forlorn, lost fashion, and wander on as those who feel that the world has left them behind forever. * The crowd strolls on, day after flay, along the broad path by the side of the lagoon, where wooden booths have been erected, with gay flags streaming from their roofs. Flaring pictures lean against the boarded fronts: saints per­ forming miraculous cures; wild bepats devouring their keepers. On the thresholds stand weather-beaten idien and women in fanciful garments, #ho call out to the wondering people to enter and behold the greatest marrels of the latter world for ten centimes. Wherever there is an open space in the crowd the people stop and gather about the jugglers and charlatans, who shout themselves hoarse over the elixirs in which they deal. Sometimes in the thick of the throng there is a gleam of bright satin and a confusion of brawn v limbs in coarse cotton coverings. It is a family of acrobats, tumbling in the sunlight to earn their scanty supper. They twist their supple bodies into strange shape so long as the crowds of laughing sailor-lads and gondoliers en­ courage them with kindly cries. Then they gather up the coins that fall upon the pavement, and wrap their shabby cloaks loosely about their dingy finery. The women lift their babiesrrom the ground, the men shoulder the imple­ ments of the profession, and the poor souls move off, followed by the strag­ gling crowd to another open space, where the fishers are waiting to be aroused from their sun-watched slum­ bers.--Applelons' Journal for March. Whittier wrote to one friend pro­ testing against being congratulated on attaining old age. which means attain­ ing rheumatism. ....