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TLMFT udsarnm. ILLINOIS. .v MIS ULT M THE 8HKAV. »T PART FATBTHOBHE. fttWT> and worn, and bent, and gr»r, . VM DsJtne Durand ; she had gleaned all Of Bahind tb* reapers--despite her care Bar alteaf hetdltttlc ' e ofnlne there, from being distrait or sad, . s * _ Hat sister gleaners hut I look, at even, so blithe and gay?" That thou, who hast toiled the live-long day, Mxrald look Down --.HOT b: from her head she lowered her sheaf; brown hand shook like an autumn leaf; Bee my good fortune, kind friends, I pray, A Lily I've found in my sheaf, ta-day I flame-like it burned in the wheat-field's braaat, feat hers, in my sheaf, it flndeth rest." "A worthless weed," with a sneer, one cries, "Hoi worth the room that it occupies." "Not so," said the Dame, "the weary hours Were cheered by the breath and bloom Of flowers. And lighter all day my load has been, For the fair Lily that lay within; And how 'twill brighten and cheer my When I to that longed-for place hat* In the Wheat, food for our hunger lies, Yet on the Lily we'll feast our eyes." Ah, we who glean in life's harvest fields, Do we gamer all its richness yields ? Our physical wants are all our care, What we shall eat, and what we shall wear, Forgetting'too oft, as seasons roll. The wants of heart or the needs of soal. j . •Consider the Lilies." Jesus saith. They teach the lesson of living faith; Who fears to follow where His hand leaas, Oar Savior, who knoweth all our needs? He has given to oach his work to do, . But He has given us pleasures, too; The while we gather the sheaves of cm.: The Li,ies of love and joy bloom there. 80, let us garner tliem day by day, Xbe-blessingg'blossoming by the wwy, . Neplecting not each day so brielp »' To Ivnd a I,ilv witnin the sheaf. _ . --Viek's Magazine. 1 were ah* to be plaeed tat cfawosUnoes timet ptftoe fh«ir IrtiroiW*, fdr KittywM a dreamer end posaesaed of dreamy ideas, and felt that some time in her life would come a moment of unusual interest Mid power, surrounded with that romance for which the human heart so longn. Nearer and nearer she approached the base of the frowning rocks. She stood be­ neath their shadow and their damp struck a chill to her hitlierto buoyant spirits for a moment. Then Rhe discovered a curiosity in the way of animal Ufa which she had never seen, and, with an exclamation of delight upon her lips she reached out to grasp it, when she heard near at hand a voice low and faint saying: "For the lore of God, if you are a human being, help an unfortunate creature In Startled beyond measure, Kitty drew back in the shadow of the rooks*' and listened intently, when again came the words: pfcring sad havoc with the heart of fee miller's daughter, end when unobserved be woald press her band or wltiapfer eome tender word, the quick flush oflaeir cheek and the glad light in her eye gave token that he was not unheeded. As tbe days flew by it was rumored that the stranger's, stay was being prolonged beyond anything needful by the bright eyes of Kitty Malcolm, and rural swains grew jealous of his presence. There was one among these to whom Kitty had given much encouragement, and he, mom than others, resented the ar.ist's attentions. Arthur Jones was the son »f the poorest man in the neighborhood, but his own honesty and industry, coupled with his in­ tegrity of character, made him a general favorite. Though not remarkable for in­ telligence, he was stable and firm as a rock, unswerving in devotion and self- sacrificing In purpose to the oalls of truth and honor. m "Are you much hurt?" she queried. V - BY CHAS. A. OB WITT. Jokn Malcolm was a miller whose mill- wheel broke the stillness of a little valley deep among the vine-clad hills of Maine, some three miles from the village of T--. The greater part of his custom was de­ rived from the country-folks who resided toundUaboot, for T----, though village in name had bnt little to sustain the pretense, if we except the railroad and the buildings which that great leveler of time and dis­ tance necessitates. There was little in the town itself to occasion a visitor, and but Seldom did a stranger appear in the neigh­ borhood. unless some rambler, drawn thither by the beautiful scenery outlying the town, condescended to honor it with a brief stay* or when distant friends deigned to smile upon some inhabitant. Kitty Malcolm, the miller's only child, was a wayward young miss of seventeen summers, whose beauty, grace, and sweet manners made wholly irresistible even ber wayward disposition. She was the one be­ ing in that little valley around whom centered the entire friendship of ihe peo­ ple, a very oasis in the desert; a sunbeam in the midst of darkness, as many a rural swain declared, whose heart had gone out in unsought admiration of the miller's daughter. Not Kitty Malcolm, though undeniably prett^ and, as is the case with most young ladies possessed of more than ordinary beauty, was well aware of the fact, yet she had not lost that native simplicity so be­ coming to youth, tbe springtime of which has been passed amid the familiar scenes of a country village, and among a people whose rustic hearts know not the fulsome flattery so common among that class of society which makes up the elite of the city world- Born at the old homestead near the mill, bred in an atmosphere of absolute purity of thought and speech, reared in a house- held which equalled in religious zeal those of the Puritans of old, the life of Kitty Malcolm had always been of the common­ place order, except on occasions when the natural wildness of her disposition, which was tbe source of great anxiety to her worthy mother, led her into the commis­ sion of some mischievous prank or mad­ cap feat, which often brought her more sorrow than joy, although she took great pleasure and pride in the act itself. Her nature was like that of a half-broken colt, who, though he has felt the bit, has not become enough accustomed to its action but that he may at times feel it incumbent upon himself to maintain his rights by running away. One pleasant day Miss Kitty, who was an ardent lover of nature, though she scarce knew why, and who had oft expressed a wish which still remained ungratilied, to be able to draw or paint the many beautiful scenes which met her view among the hills, concluded to put into execution a long- cherished scheme, which was nothing more or less than to pay a visit to a huge cliff of rock which overhung the valley from a hill-point a mile or more from her home. It was said by the few who had visited the place to be a most interesting and romantic spot, besides being one of the most dan­ gerous in that locality, not only from the difficulty of obtaining a sufficiently firm footing to make one's way in safety to the summit, but from the fact that it had been discovered that the immense promontory was penetrated by small open lngs and c "• "Help, help, in kite name of God, for I •m dying!" Boused now by the fact that a human being was lying near at band, in the agony of death, Kitty cried in a loud voice. "Where are yon? What is the matter?" The answer came almost immediately from a clump of brush to the left of where she stood, and where the rocks were more rough and ragged than at any other point of the ascent! "Here, here, below you! I fell from the cliff and am badly hurt." Kitty sprang forward, and lightly step­ ping from stone to stone, neared the place where the unfortunate sufferer lay, guided by the moans which, ever and anon, emanated from his pale lips. Reaching the spot, quite hidden from the casual eye by the thick undergrowth, Kitty saw lying at full length upon the ground the figure of a man who with almost superhuman efforts was trying to raise himself to a sitting posture by the aid of his left arm, while his right lay limp and helpless beside him. The effort was too great and he fell back with a groan as Kitty reached his side. "What is the matter? How came you here? Are you much hurt?" she queried, almost in the same breath. "I am a traveler and came through here to see the country, and losing my way came upon yonder rocks. While trying to find a place of easy descent I missed my footing and fell. I have been here since yesterday noon and have been unable to make my­ self heard by any one. I heard your voice and called out for help," was the reply of the man, who certainly presented a pitiful sight. His face, which was that of one young in years and destitute of hirshute adornment, except for a wavy brown mustache which graced his upper lip, would have been called handsome had not its beauty been mured by several bruises and cuts, one of which extended across tbe broad forehead, and his features were distorted with pain and suffering. "Where are you injured?" inquired Kitty, who, now that she saw the helpless con­ dition of the stranger, was fast gaining command over her nerwus c-xcitement, and whose evident suffering had awakened in her that sympathy so natural to women. "My right arm is broken, I think, «nH I have little use of my limbs,* he replied, "for I cannot move." * "Then I must go far help. Can you wait till I can send some one to remove you?" asked our heroine. "Necessity knows no other law than obedience," responded the stranger, "and as I cannot help myself, I must wait for some one to help me." So, after arranging the injured man as comfortably as possible, Kitty started rap­ idly down the steep hill, and was swiftly on her way home, calling back as she went: "Be patieut, and lie perfectly still. Iwili soon have assistance for you." She hurried as fast as her feet could carry her to the mill where she found her father, and imparted to him the knowledge that a stranger had fallen from Black Point and was lying there badly injured. The miller hastened forth and soon made the circumstances known to a few of the nearest neighbors, and a rescuing party was soon on its way to the assistance of the unfortunate traveler. Kitty was sent home to prepare a room, for (he miller's hospi­ table heart would not permit him to allow the stranger to be token to other quarters than his own house. While preparing the room Kittv told her mother the history of her walk, and what had come of it, and that worthy woman was so much excited by the news of the acci­ dent that she neglected to scold her daugh­ ter for going to the place which she had time and again been notified to shun. Arrangements had scarcely been com­ pleted for the comfort of tbe expected guest when the miller and biR party re­ turned with a litter bearing the wounded man. The doctor, a surgeon of the old school, who had been summoned from T , made an examination of the in­ juries, and pronounced it as his opinion that with rest and good nursing the patient would soon be able to attend his customary vocation, unless the bones which he had set and properly adjusted were unusually slow in healing. The duty of caring for the invalid de­ volved upon Kitty and her mother, but the time of the latter being greatly occupied with her household cares, Kitty found her­ self practically in charge of the sick-room, a position by no means unpleasant, since her charge had given evidence of rare con­ versational powers, and it needed only her presence to awaken them into activitv. Loving Kitty Malcolm with an earnest­ ness seldom equalled, he was inexpressibly pained when he heard that the miller had given his consent to the marriage of his daughter to James Argyle. Then, feeling that the life happiness of the woman he loved was at stake, Arthur Jones bent his whole energy to the task of proving to his own satisfaction that Kitty was not about to trust her life in the hands of one who would soon tire of her companionship, and to this end began a systematic effort to unravel the past of his successful and more polished rival. Letters of inquiry were sent to all the principal cities, giving the name of James Argyle and his occupation of artist, but the invariable reply was: "We know nothing of the person you in­ quire about." Fully one-half tbe country-side had been asked to witness the marriage, which was to take place on the '25th of September. As the time approached Arthur Jones grew more despondent, and despaired of ever solving the mystexy of the man's life, if mystery it was. On the morning of the day on which the wedding was to take place, Arthur had been to tbe village postoffice, as was bis usual custom, and was returning homeward when he was overtaken by two men, who ques­ tioned him closely as to the visitors who had been in the neighborhood of late, ask­ ing iheir names and a minute description of each. When the name of James Argyle was mentioned and his description given a look of meaning passed between the two, and when told that he was to that day marry the belle of the village they thanked their informer and rode rapidly away. Arthur pondered the matter for some time and being unable to arrive at a satis­ factory conclusion, dismissed the subject from his mind and prepared to attend the wedding. The appointed hour came and the little chappel was filled with those who had come to witness the ceremony, The bride and groom stood at the chancel rail and ue old minister was about to pronounce the words that would make them man and wife, when down the aisle strode two men who ap­ proached the expectant groom from each side, seized and hand-cuffed him, while one of them said in a loud voice: "I forbid the ceremony. This man is an escaped convict. George Howard yon are my prisoner." Great excitement prevailed amid which the waiting bride fainted and was borne from the church to her home. After the tumult caused by the unexpected interrup­ tion had somewhat subsided the officers, for such they were, stated that the prisoner, George Howard, alias James Argyle, had escaped from the New Hampshire State prison, where he was serving a life-sen- ten ce for tbe murder of his wife, a girl of about 18 years, They had traced him from place to place, and had luckily discovered him in the very nick of time, as the sequel showed. The people were so indignant that it was with the utmost difficulty they were per­ suaded to let the law take its course. Cooler counsel prevailed, however, and the mur­ derer, Howard, was given in charge of the officers who took him back to his prison. For many weeks the life of Kitty Malcolm was dispaired of, the shock having proven too much for her nervous system, but she finally recovered, and a year afterward was happily married to Arthur Jones, the strength of whose devotion she began to* realize. Her former dreamy ideas and romatic fancies were swept away, and she settled down into a quiet, staid matron, whose whole life seemed wrapped up in her love for her husband and children. She never made any reference to her narrow escape from being the wife of a felon, until she read in one of the papers from the city how he had been killed by a guard while again attempting to escape, when she ex­ claimed: "Thank God for his kindness to me." f*he is growing old now, and the past is a sealed book, yet many of the simple peo­ ple never tire of telling their friends of the days when they were young and saw the occurrences, here given, in the romance of "Kitty Malcolm, the .Miller's Daughter."-- Chicago Ledger. / Harpooning Hippos. The boat drew near to the hippos, which were coming down stream, evi­ dently in some commotion; right out in the center was seen occasionally the head of one which promised to be even larger than the bull shot the night ber fore, and for him Malcolmson steered. White in the bows, with his harpoon ready poised, watching him keenly. "Why, the tarnal critter means mis­ chief,and is coming for us right straight J He's like a gallied whale--don't care I what he does. Starn all, men! Pull afternoon came, she slipped away with the remark to her mother: "It is so pleasant, n>ether, that 1 1 will take a walk in the woods." "Well, daughter, go for yoar walk, but it •erne ^enc^hat hejiadbeen.no sluggard. oolm,_ who, had she dreamed of Kitty's in­ tended destination, would have peremptorily forbidden ber going. Armed with her mother's unconscious permission to go where she chose, Kittv chose to visit "Black Point," as the ledge of rocks was known. Setting out at a brisk psoe she was soon at the foot of the hill looking up at tbe huge maBs of rocks hanging dark and lowering overhead, their ragged outlines made harsher still by the •craggy growth which found life in the dam crevices. But if she was to visit the summit and get home before nightfall, no time was to be lost, so swinging her sun- hat over her arm she began the ascent. Stop by step she neared ihe forbidding •as--, and she paused to think of the many SL-SLSffi i biV?"5 M*';ff°,; , had started overland to visit the points of ! hard round to starboard, Mr. Mnlcolm- intereat in ! " The men backed, and Malcolm- ^ hen somewhat recovered from the ex- wWinh ! considerable size, | posure and exhaustion consequent upon k U » charming rendezvous • the accident he had told his host that his animals reptiles numerous wild name was James Argyle, and that, an Hut Kittv wu ii»ht , artist by profession, and in pursuance of M»d nnwLrlJS? careleM' 1tho Bohemian life he was wont to lead, he Sn £ « g danger, so | had started overland to visit the points of -- XfntifX y re(L on, interest in their neighborhood when he | son. beautiful afternoon came, she slint^d : met with the mishap that made him an1 uninvited guest of the family. That be was liberally supplied wiih money be soon gave proof, and his fine linen and the jewels which adorned it were certainly _____ j.. „ -**"" evidence (but he had been no slutzeard. your father, wa» the reply of Mrs. Mai- One thing, however, dampened the en­ thusiasm of the miller when speaking of his guest, and that was the fact that never, by word or sign, had he intimated where he was from or whether he had friends or relatives who would be anxious to know of his whereabouts. Neither had he shown any disposition to let the inquiring Kitty I ".1,u see any of his artist work, and the miller ' _rn -® an en81Kn staff, was of ten heard to remark in an under­ tone: "It's mighty queer, if he is well known, that he dont want his friends to know where he is." Time wore on, sad Mr. Argyle eontinued to improve so rapidly that ere two months had passed he was able to walk about in the dooryard, occasionally straying as far as the mill; then he would find his way swung the boat round, and they just avoided a charge which tlie hippo m:ule straight at them, and were watch­ ing for his next rise when they felt themselves lifted nearly 9ut of the water as he bumped up under the boat; luckily he did not capsize them, and the whaler slid down, rocking violently into the water without giving- White a chance with the harpoon, although Badenoch managed to plant a lance in i him which he left sticking up in his F. "Never use a lance before you are fast!" shouted White. "Look, men, he is coming at us again!" This time, as he charged, Malcolmson, guided by the shaft of the lance,managed to avoid him, and also to pass so close alongside that White got the harpoon well home into his flank. "Guess we're fast; now, water on the line; he's sounding!" The wounded hippo, however, did not go far, but soon turned and charged the boat again, af pktkks, but White pod Bade- nooh Mek got; a lanoe .tarn*. Two b|##9 JUm set bafl a* the boat was laajkingiast ; but the hippopotamus was evidently bndly wounded, and in another charge missed the boat alto­ gether, and, rolling as he passed, ex- posed his side behind the shoulders, when White. put in another lance, deeply this time. The hippo sounded at once and for some time remained below water, and when he again came up to blow was spouting blood. "Spout­ ing blo>d? Hes gone! Haul up to him, lads, und I guess we'll settle him now.*' 'White and Malcolmson now changed places, and when they came up to the hippo planted another lance fair down between his shoulders with such force that it went half way up to the shaft. Some twenty minutes elapsed without his rising; they buoyed the line and went back to the Pearl, which was got under way and brought up to the spot, when, the line being brought to the windlass, they have the hippopotamus up to the surface and found him to be even larger than they had thought.--Gentleman's Magazine. The Interpretation or Animal Actions. Many of the performances of the lower animals, if accomplished "by men, would be regarded as indications of the possession of marvelous genius. In the brutes they are regarded as the outcome of "mere instinct," by which is meant an endowment acting blindly and incapable either of philosophic ex­ planation or of modification. While the fact seems to be that instincts, as they exist, are the result of in­ herited experiences accumulated through considerable periods of time; that they may be modi­ fied, and are constantly being modified by new experiences; that they may be lost or replaced, and much more that we have still to learn*. Many of the instincts of animals are so far removed from any knowledge or faculty we possess that they are at present in­ explicable. But man must learn to say "I don't know* about a great many things still, instead of assuming the validity of explanations which are not true solutions at all, but mere assump­ tions. And at thft point allow me to indi­ cate a danger that should make us cau­ tions and modest in attempting to ex­ plain the behavior of animals. We in­ fer from our fellow-man's behavior similarity of motive and mental pro­ cesses to our own under like circum­ stances. We find, the more experience we have, that we are often at fault as to both. And when we are more free from the thralldrom of so-called sys­ tems and methods in education we may learn that the activities of the human mind cannot be reduced in all persons to precisely the one plan, like so much clockwork. This may mar somewhat the completeness and beauty of our philosophy of education, but it may also in the end conduce to human prog­ ress by providing the greater freedom, and end in insurting an individuality of character which seems to be now rapidly disappearing. Now, if individ­ ual men so differ in psychic behavior, how much more is it likely that still greater differences hold for the lower animals! An objection may be based, however, on this to the whole study of comparative psychology. The objection holds to some extent even for human psychology, but as we infer similarity of behavior in men to denote similarity of inner processes, so are we justified in the same as regards the lower ani­ mals, though it must be conceded some­ what less so. We must always be pre­ pared to admit that there may be psychic paths unknown and possibly unknowable to us in the realm of their inner life. But if we regard man as the outcome of development through lower forms according to variation with natural selection--in a word, if a man is the final link*in a long chain binding the whole animal creation together we have the greater reason for inferring that comparative psychology and hu­ man psychology have common roots.-- Popular Science Month ly. Poisoned Paper. Within the past few months there has been much stir over the question of arsenic in wall-papers. Prof. Dyon of Harvard University started it, believing himself and family to have been badly poisoned by it, and feeling under oblig­ ation to make his experience available for the public good. The other side has been presented by manufacturers and dealers, and by the various interests involved. Testimony has been pitted against testimony, and expert against expert, until now the public hardly knows * what to believe. Perhaps an opinion based upon an unbiased sifting of evidence may be helpful. 1. We brieve that arsenic is exten­ sively used in the manufacture of wall­ paper, but Visually in such minute quantities that\lie use of the paper is not dangerous, j The question is not whether the chemist can detect any ar- setiic in the paper tested by him or not, but if he finds it there in a dangerous quantity. Most poisons are safe within certain limits. Our systems have a wonderful eliminating power. Many of the best medicines are virulent poisons--not only arsenic itself, but preparations of opinm, corrosive sublimate, deadly nightshade, strychnine, and other drugs. Carbonic acid gas, which is a fatal poison in large quantities, is a constituent part of the atmosphere. We believe, then, that the arsenic in all the paper of any ordinary dwelling would not harm one if conccntrated into a single dose. 2. But we equally believe that some papers, particularly those with a rough or velvety surface, contain arsenic in quantities which make them dangerous, especially so when exposed, to long- continued dampness. Wo know of one person who, while engaged in hanging such paper, al­ though he took every precaution in the way of abundant ventilation, was so badly poisoned that lie was made ill, and was hardly able to reach home un-_ assisted. The doctor at once pro­ nounced it a case of arsenical poison­ ing. The occupants of such a house, if their constitutions are rather tolerant of arsenic--there is much difference in the susceptibility to its influence--and if the house naturally and artificially is a dry one, and is kept well ventilated, I might escape harm. But we should not'like to insure the concurrence of these conditions. ® Here we would caution our wealthy readers to be doubly careful of the ven­ tilation of their houses in protracted damp weather, and to make sure that every room is thoroughly ventilated on returning from their summer vacation. But, above all, make sure that the wall­ paper does not contain arsenic in dan­ gerous quantity. If it does, tear the paper down instantly.--Companion. . . . - -- , A SOLITARY woman is an unhappy? nearly capsizing her and 8ta0|^,^j^^iy| «o ^ A Gypsy Beauty. Under the above title, in the Century, Charles G. Leland writes of Charlotte Cooper, one of the oldest and most famous of the Romanies. "Fifty or sixty years ago the gypsies in England were a much more remark­ able race than they are at present. The railway had not come to break up their habits, there were hundreds of lonely places in dell and dingle where they could hatch the tan, or pitch the tent, their blood had been little mixed with that of the Gorgio, or Gentile; they spoke their language with greater purity than at present, and still kept their old characteristics unchanged. If they had the faults of Arabs, they had also many of their good qualities. If they stole horses and foraged on farm­ ers, if their women told fortunes, lied, and sometimes cheated a man out of all his ready jaoney by pretending to find a treasure in his cellar, on the other hand they were extremely grateful and honest to those who befriended them, and manifested in many ways a rough manliness whioh partially redeemed their petty vices. They were all, as are many of their sons at present, in­ domitable 'rough riders,' 'of the horse horsey,' and to a man boxers, so that many of them were distinguished in the Srize-ring, the last of these being Jem [ace. At this time there prevailed among the English Bomany a strong, mutual faith, a tribal honesty, which was limited, but all the stronger for that, even as the arms of a man grow stronger when he loses the use of his legs. They were a people of powerful frames, passions, and traditional prin­ ciples. Their weak children soon died from the hardships of nomadic life, the remainder illustrated selection by suf­ fering, and the survival of the fittest-- to fight. "With such characteristics there could not fail among the gypsies many striking instances of warm friendship, intense love, and the fidelity which en­ dures even till death. This was known of them when little else was known be­ yond their most apparent and repulsive traits. Walter Scott indulged in no romantic license when he depicted llayraddin Mangrabin as devoted to WoatefWI Growth of the Charefc In Am«r- !«• BiMtaa the Mont UlMtlnotir Catholic City la the World. [Brooklyn Citlsaa.} One of the most extraordinary prob­ lems of the progress of the Republic has been the growth of the Catholic Church within the boundaries of the United States, a topic all the more fruitful of interest from the question of its ecclesiastic discipline now agitating the public mind. From "Sadlier's Catholic Directory" for 1887, which has just been issued and is the recognized authority on all such matters, we learn the official reports of the standing of the church at present in the United States, and the figures given are sum marized as follows: One Cardinal, 12 archbishops, 61 bishops, 7,658 priests, 1,530 ecclesiastical etudents, 6,910 churches, 3,281 chapels and stations, 36 theological seminaries, 88 colleges, 593 academies, 485 charitable institutions, 2,697 parochial schools, and 535,725 pupils in attendance at these schools, rhe figures in the last two items are not complete, several' dioceses having made no returns. An analysis of the diosesan statistics is interesting as showing the distribu­ tion of Catholics in the great divisions of the country: Boston, the metro­ politan see, to which the other two dio­ ceses of Massachusetts are suffragant, has 400,000 Catholics. Truly as "the Boston of Collins and O'Brien," not "the city of Winthrops and the Puri­ tans." Last year there were born there over 11,000 children, and of this num­ ber over 7,000 were Catholics. "A steady annual growth of seven in eleven," says the Boston Pilot, "inde­ pendent of the gain by immigration, will in the course of one generation make Boston the most distinctly Catho­ lic city in the world." The archdiocese of New York,, one of the nine bishop­ rics in the Empire State, has 600,000 Catholics. The archdiocese of Baltimore, cover­ ing the greater part of Maryland, has 210,000 Catholics; Chicago, not includ­ ing its two suffragant sees in the same State, 400,000; Cincinnati, chief of the three dioceses in Ohio, 180,000; St. Louis, one of the two in Missouri, 280,- 000; San Francisco, chief of the three in California, 200,000; Philadelphia, chief of the five in Pennsylvania, 400,- 000; Pittsburgh, 175,000; Newark, one of the two in New Jersey, 155,000; Buf­ falo, N. Y., 150,000; Detroit, the oldest of the three in Michigan, 111,735. No estimates are given for the populous archdioceses of Milwaukee and New Orleans, or the dioceses of Albany, Cleveland, Hartford, Springfield,Mass., Richmond, St. Paul, Peoria, Rochester, and others in which such figures would be both of interest and value. "The Church of America," says) the historian Clark, "is said even now to be in her infancy. So much is to be done. So vast is the field. So rapid her pres­ ent growth." During the colonial pe­ riod the churches were attached to the jurisdiction of the parent nations. The see of Baltimore extends back to the infancy of the Republic, and the Arch­ bishops of New Orleans trace their line to the Spanish bishops of the last cen­ tury. In 1808 the sees of New York, Boston, Philadelphia, and Bard'stown (now Louisville, Ky.) were created, and since then sixty-six others have parti­ tioned off from these original bounda­ ries. The growth of the Catholic Church has proportionately far out­ stripped that of the Republic. In a period of 107 years the United States have increased from thirteen States to thirty-eight States and ten Territories, while the Catholic Church, in fourteen years less time, has increased from one bishopric to sixty-two bishoprics and nine vicariates apostolic. The popula­ tion of the country has increased from 2,803, (KM) to 58,120,000, according to the Treasury, statement for the fiscal year ending June, 1886, while the Cath- olio population has increased from 25,- 000 to about 10,000,000--an increase re­ sulting from foreign immigration, the natural growth of the native popula­ tion, and conversion from the Protest­ ant sects. The clergy have been in­ creased from twenty-one priests in 1790 to over 7,800 to-day. The following are the twelve oldest Catholic sees in the United States, taken in chronological order: Balti­ more was established in 1779; New Or­ leans in 1793; New York, Boston, and Louisville in 1808; Philadelphia in 1809; Charleston in 182G; Richmond in 1821; Cincinnati in 1822; Mobile in 1824; St. Louis in 1826; Detroit in 1832. The newest sees are those of Leavenworth and Peoria, established in 1877; Trenton and Davenport in 1881; Grand Rapids in 1882; Helena (Mont.) and Manchester (N. H.), 1884; Syra­ cuse (X. Y.) and Salt Lake City (Utah), 1886. em will be „ out of nil proportion to ft§ value, and go the rounds of all the Bomany in the United Stales. And therefore when men fell in love with Women there often resulted those instances of intense passion and steady faith, which at the present day are really becoming mythical. The gypsy in this, as in everything else, has been a continuation of the middle ages, or of the romance era. e "Suoh a passion was inspired more than half a century ago by Jack. Cooper, the Kurumengro Rom, or Fighting Gypsy, in a girl of his own tribe. Her name was Charlotte Lee, and it was about 1830 that Leslie, the Royal Academician, led by the fame of her beauty, painted the picture, now in New York in the possession of his sister, Miss Emma Leslie, from which the engraving here given was taken. The fame of her charms still survives among her people, and when a few days ago as I write, I was talking of Char­ lotte to some gypsies of her kin near Philadelphia, I was asked if I meant the Rinkeni; that is, the Beautiful ope. ^ The Temperaments. Having in previous articles discussed the sanguine, the choleric, and the melanoholic, we come to the fourth and last. The phlegmatic is almost always in a good condition; there is something roundish about his entire personality; his stomach forms a circle, his face and eyes likewise, and his trains of ideas also. While the angular choleric pushes and is pushed because he swims against the stream, the plump phlegmatic slips collectively downward. His fatness keeps him up. In the com­ munity he is one of the "very best citi­ zens; "he is neither revolutionary nor reactionary; for both progress and ret­ rogression require motion, and as he fa no friend of movement he is a strict conservative. If compelled to walk he saunters; standing still he leans against something, and seated he lays his arms either in his lap or on the table. Of passion he knows only their names, and if he raves about anything it is generally about fishing, to take a nap after dinner, or drink lager beer. As he is a complete enemy of war, he is scarcely suspected of having invented gunpowder; on the contrary, he would more likely be suspected of having in­ troduced arm-chairs, arranged chimney corners, and brought big meerschaum pipes into fashion. Among the phlegmatics we will find a great number of provision dealers, saloon-keepers, old clergymen, and Hollanders, besides all horned and flap- eared domestic animals, the tortoise, the dried cod, the snail, the happy oysters, eto. These few traits of character which I have had the pleasure to adduce, partly by notes from celebrated physiogno­ mists and physiologists, partly from my own observations, will, I hope, be suf­ ficient to give the readers a conception of the ̂ four temperaments and thus render it easier to assort them. One need only look from his window at the passers-by--those who now and then are running and then stopping are san- guinics; those who tramp along with short, measured steps are cholerics; those moving gently by are melanchol­ ies, and those dragging their feet are phlegmatics. Just as easily is it to identify the four temperaments on horseback. The sanguinic always rides at a gallop, that is in a sporting gallop. That the horse flings out never incom­ modes him, if it "only goes." The choleric, on the contrary, generally rides in a steady trot; if he is in a par­ ticular good spirits, in a center, and when angry, in a headlong gallop. The melancholic lets his steed move at an even pace, and upon solemn occasions in a jpg trot; and the phlegmatic rides only in a carriage, and then in as com­ modious and short-legged a one as possible. By continued observations one may not only detect the difference of tem­ peraments in the two, four, and six- footed animals, but also in all, both or­ ganic and inorganic, things. One may see that the swaying poplar with its ever-rustling leaves, is sanguine, the rugged oak is choleric, the weeping willow and the spruce are melancholies, and the clumsy, thick-headed willow is phlegmatic. Even in pot-herbs you may discover temperaments. For in­ stance, can the eolcriao be nothing but a choleric ? And is it possible to con­ ceive anything more phlegmatic thati a cucumber? I would almost say, is it possible to take anything in your hand without discovering the terfiperament that belongs to it? 33ie cane is san­ guinic, the rattan is choleric, the bam­ boo is phlegmatic, and the umbrella is a decided melancholic.--Detroit Free JPress. - Marrying Money. ; When a young man marries an heir­ ess, says a writer in the Epoch, the changes in his outward condition are subtle, but none the less interesting. Very soon--miraculously soon, indeed-- he becomes a little stouter, and his walk is slower, his feet being planted more solidly and more carefully than they were when they carried a bache­ lor. His clothes turn darker by one shade at least, and his watchchain is certai&ly a thought heavier. The handle of his umbrella, also, has be­ come perceptibly bigger, whereas hia. scarf-pins are undoubtedly more quiet in character--less fantastic or trivial. Observe him on his way to a church wedding, for example, and mark how different is his mode of progression from that of an unattached and miscel­ laneous youth. The rogue knows that a good seat will be reserved for him at the head of the aisle, and that he has no occasion for hurry. When he drives out it is in a substantial dog-cart ot mail phaeton, and he escheweth--not, perhaps, altogether without regret-- the sidebar buggy which he used to think the kind of vehicle that he would have if he were rich. He is now a sub- stantial person in the community--a family man, a capitalist by proxy--and he begins to have serious views on po­ litical and financial matters, which he is desirous of discussing with older men. In fact, ho is rather given to shunning his contemporaries, and is not altogether easy in the society of his former companions. He has deserted their ranks, and. although he has gained in dignity, he has lost in free­ dom. His chains are golden, to be sure, but they bind with the force of a less costly metal. No longer for him are the delights of a midnight cigar or a refreshing brandy and soda at the club. He is now the victim of times and seasons, and must go discreetly home when the proper hour arrives. NEATNESS and simplicity are the best ornaments, good habits are better than fine clothes, and the most elegant manners the kindest. A CUP is useless to hold water when How TO fc||$|r9ur rooms warm--Inep your grates coal'd. THE bald-headed man more th»n any other would like to be a million-hair, "GIVE every man a chance," says an old adage. And that's just what the proprietors Of lotteries, who are said to be enemies of their fellows, are al­ ways willing to da EMPLOYER--James, here is a letter for you from the dead-letter offlee. James (in agony)--Then it's from my son. He's been sick for weoks, I've been expectin' this every day. • DEACON HARRIS--Remember that yon must give an account of all your actions and deeds when you go to the other world. Old Mose--Waal, boss, Pse mighty glad I'se got a poor memory^ SERVED HER RIGHT. " A maiden who need to play euchre Was wooed by a young man who ( And made her his wife, \ , But she lead hiiu a life Of mis ry, and so he forBuchro. '• --Botton Courier. • A CERTAIN witty bishop was recently Asked about a sermon to which he had listened, whether he thought it High or Low. He replied that he did not know ' about that, but there could be no doubt that it was long. A BENEVOLENT gentleman dropped a coin into a blind man's hat. The man took it, turned it over, and weighed it in his hand. "Do you think it is not a- good one?" "Oh, it's all right, sir, only as times go we've to keep a sharp lookout." SEXTON (to grottp of travelers)-- This, gentlemen, is the highest church steeple in the country. It contains three bells; the largest is rung only on the arrival of the bishops, in cases of fire and floods, and other threatened calamities. THERE were few Connecticut women of the last century who did not keep a diary. We quote this from a diary of 1790: "We had roast pork for dinner, and Dr. S , who carved, held up a rib on his fork and said: 'Here, ladies, is what Mother Eve was made of.' 'Yea,' said Sister Patty, 'and it's fr very much the same kind of critter.' The Living Church. COMMERCIAL TRAVELER--Do you know that one of the regular drummers in this country is a full-blooded Japanese? Omaha merchant--No, I never heard of it. "Well, he is one of the most suc­ cessful drummers on the road, and we would all like him if it wasn't for one fault." "Eh! What's that?" "Well, you see, he has the Oriental tendency ^ to exaggerate the qualities of his goockkf --Omaha World. ^ THE stories of clergymen who go through the service for one auditor re­ minds one ef a case in Eastern Con­ necticut. The auditor in this case was a young lady, a member of the clergy­ man's family. He not only went through the entire service for her sole benefit, but read to her the notice of a change in the time of meeting of the Young Women's Guild, whioh she had herself handed to him.^-- Waterbury American. "THIS Transcontinental Quick Dis­ patch is a soulless, swindling, grinding monopoly, isn't it?" asked Old Hyson. "You bet your life that's just what it is," replied Old Gunny bags. "I've been trying to get into that ooncern for three years Or more, and not« dollar of stock will they sell at any figure. Won't let me have a smell. There ought to be some way of getting,at these fellows in the courts. They're afraid to let an honest man into their rascally ring."--Burdette. WE clip the following from the Hay- creek (Texas) Prairiefire of a late date: "A reporter of this paper witnessed a fine burst of speed yesterday while re­ turning from the funeral of the wife of our estimable fellow-townsman, Judge Jaybird. Sandy Harrigan, the driver of the hearse, attempted to throw a little dust on the Judge, when the afflicted and gtief-stricken widower pulled out iu the ditch with his fine bay horse, Three Spot, and easily passed the outfit shouting and a-flyinig** --Dakota Bell. t 1'h- _ . "Madcap Harry" and Sir John Pophaiau It is a curious circumstance--not, as I think, much noticed by Shakespearean critics--that with all our great dra­ matist's marvelous gifts, his power of delineation and surpassing knowledge of human character, his development of our language, his dramatic force, his poetic feeling, and his wealth of poetio expression--yet he seems to have been singularly deficient in originality, all his dramas, with the exception of "Love's Labor Lost," having been traced to some older tale or play. Now it is well known by students of history that Shakespeare's character Of Prince Henry, afterward Henry V., is a gross libel upon one whose personal life was singularly pure and upright. I am not quite clear that the Prince can be exon­ erated entirely from robbing the King's mails; but he had this excuse, that his father withheld from him his income M Prince of Wales, partly from innA^to meanness, but more, perhaps, fromJtne jealousy inherent in such natures tft; ward his next heir--one wfio utterly surpassed him in nobleness oi mind and popular gifts. Who, then, was the originalof €>liake#- peare's "Madcap Harry?1* If I mfpi* take not, he is to be found in Sir Jonn Popham, sometime- Speaker of the House of Commons and, Lord Chief Justice of England. At the time that Shakespeare was writing his plays and1 residing at Banksjde, in Soutliwark, the circumstances with which he credits Prince Henry were being enacted in the borough, probably before his very eyes. . Sir John Popham was a native m Somerset. How far his being stolen by gypsies when a child and remaining with them seme months gave him a taste for a vagabond or Bohemian way of life, one cannot say. At Balliol College, Oxford, he bore a high char­ acter, and is said to have laid in a good stock of classical learning and dog­ matical divinity, but on removing to the Middle Temple he appears to hate fallen in bad company and utterly neff- lected bis judicial studies.--WaiforSt Ajiliguarian. __ _ Prompt Besposse. Pedagog --What is a shepheritV * The class do not respond. P.--Suppose you are all lambs--that is, little sheep--^what am I ? Tommie--The biggest sheep.--Bos­ ton Beacon. THE little girl who was disappointed " because her name could not be found lb the Bible, says, "Never mind! She will be such a good girl that if ever another Bihle is written, her name shall go into that" fsfg?" THE little child knows nothing parental love, bnt only knows one #a|| and one lap toward which it stretchff its arms for refuge and nurture,---- " v * • i