'Vf 4 * * ̂ MM <mmmui*iMt»* "Adaraf What*** Journey he ,pW any one ^""• ̂ *ual to el truth." is ft de- oftenest ation or • c N r* »*' - * ->vT ̂ fSj/ , • «' £ *"* " ̂ T)-W~V vqvw* LOf ̂ ' w*3 and assy not only be but «vea unintentional. Irishman who undertook teskoer H ts^Mnaa a private still, and intto- dpcodJiim toJMf toother, who had been fclffilvs V*i?™ iwi"Wl«» "mv fund wtt a. ptirm #»4•»* '$%*'&$& ̂ yf Aram very. aeMff; although it lg poSsfefethe victimof Ike joke did/not we the fta of the thing, any more thaa the oflfcial of the North London Rail- my UwfMiy 4i4 whea ovatfceaurlng a third-class passenger inr tfcat any one OQuld trayei from. Broad strpet to Dais- Hti Junction without aticfeei, a* he had dftne only the <taj before, he inter viewed him when he Righted. The traveler not proving communicative, tho xealous railway aervant-caaveypd a coin into his hand, and then ashed. "How did you go from Broad street to Dldston Junction yesterday without a ticket?" 44 Oh," was the unwelcome reply, ** I walked!" As readily trapped, was the amateur H|iiaî i)p> wl iore^pnded to the adver tisement: "Wanted, V a tronibone- Syerfor BarnumV Balcony Band," waiting upon the famous showman hont delay. >* You want a trombone-playefP'> in- lired he. >31; )* Yes,", said Mr.Barnjun. "What is the place wo rthP" asked 0&: St:. Mj.fcff.VL: «*6s»>6H. I l$|e applicant. ""Oh, about twenty-live dollars a ,-WTek, I suppose." • iU > t s- >/41" Yeiy well, J should like itl ,. «• All right," sai4*Mr. Barnum; and the trombone did frightful execution through the week. Saturday came, and with it Mr. Green for his salary, Instead of drawing which, he received a paper on which was written: "Mr. Green to Mr. P. T. Barnum. To play ing the trombone on his balcony one week, twenty-five dollars." The re cipient smiled. " * *• It's all right, isn't itr' asked Mr. Barnum. " Why," said the musician, 44 you've made an odd mistake; you've made jne , t&e debtor instead of you." <u " No mistake at all," said Barnum. M You see this is how it is. There are a great many men in this city fond of Slicing on brass instruments) but cannot do it at home beoawe of neighbors1 objections.. So I find them room on myt balcony during so many hours a day, where the street is ;! 1 voisy that it does no - hans; - and they give me so much a weekformy trouble In keeping the organization complete. Tou don't think me such a fMijs to pay sueh a wretched lot of players sure ly/ However, as you seem to have Men honestly "mistaken, you can pay me ten dollars this week; but hereafter I can make no reduction." Them Was afVacaney in the balcony band the fol- ' Storing Monday. f * Many an unpremeditated sell has l>een perpetrated frenm Inability to re sist sudden temptation. One of the Judges of the Supreme Court of New York State, visiting the Centennial Exhibition, sat down in a quiet corner *part from the others, to listen to a , great cornet-player, and as was hie Wont in court, drew his gray coat about his head and ears as a protection against ible draughts. His motionless •e.soon attracted attention; and the pper ran that it was the statue of< some wonderful character. The Judge's flitter wickedly told those near her that they were gazing at the effigy of an Aztec priest from Mexico. The infor mation passed from mouth to mouth,' And some hundreds of people* were drawn to the spot, to disperse<8ome» irhat sheepishly when the object of their curiosity, having had enough of the corset, ̂ readjusted Ms^oat and rose ,̂'jiigo. ; • n«-\» !$, -tfbid -af oae Boggs,5 ^rfjhose ':zipCT$jrant' otiosity was pro-- : ; verbid. throughout the •coufi.try that .-owned him. fie. was on one occasion traveling on liie Little'Miami Railroads 4lon^(8i& a solemn-lodki&g man, who persisted in locking out of the window, .and took no heed of Botf ̂ endeavors to enliven the journey with & little con- Tersation. At -last the brake man or guard came roond with some- .wpter, • «nd the niisoeiable ixwr^sr turned vmmd to take a drink. Seizing the ohaaot, Boggs aekedi 4 4 Going m far §Mt as-Newnfoarkf" ̂ ! v ^11 **No ̂groped the man. . i<n', , ̂ 44Ahr' said Boggs, "New YorkU , #dl .this time of year; mebbe* yotff$j "F • Prtt ̂for Philadelphia?" '•v ! / tV* The surly one shook his head. 1' V "Fr|#l Cleveland's vbttr dd^Btina- ^on!" insint^tted Mr. Boggs. 44 NoF an't bejcoing tlliB rouudabout way to jcagprv. /; *" ;-VV . : r.'1 • No r^>l̂ T was vouchsafed. 'WtofB wW6"wlrattE -W "1 In Lompa County,lowî Jib motley or h rrachest ,i _ thioiMî mi wmt pm.%- Ing WHmtmtk oldwm-HM- Vlmkthe ohased opi atnvil&ipr Mm rada»| SS^^Wi blpod-wot «}̂ s.jmd Shmikied "bTe t̂t. The fairoter stiibBIe fiel̂ 'idroMi a ttWsm creek, thwsogh. • a ^Maoto«rey linwn «. ravimw. over i anotber . nUL,, amposs a. <rt«mp-deld, ̂ heirandowh op^Sroad by tlif trmmiM. ' Ttev overhauled him tnoroupilt, ses^fhed mm Drom top to toe, to MB he Ibi B«t m solitarT cent wh<M«*l>i> l» rwrasji 'tis»i« far their perseverance. thSth» fcer ̂6f th« Wory had companled îe young fnem one of those little sceial MNrtief iWhlch are got np to bring fapd nea^jt |tep nearer each other. .Wpen they reatineu t&e gate, she asked hitti if he ̂ ouldn^t come in. He said hi) would Sarah toUk his hat, told him to sit down, and left the room to remove her things.- She was hardlv gone before her moth er came in, smiled sweeny* and, drop ping down beside the yotihgman, said: •4I always did say that if a poor but respectable young man fell in love with Sarah, he shouid hwre my consent. Some mother* would sacrifice their daughters' happiness for riches, rat I am not of thaftaeit.1' ; n .» The young man started wjth al̂ rm; he didn't know whether he liked Sa rah or laot; h6 hadn1t arisanitld of iiwr- r?age. " '; ': r •;« 44 She has' acknowledged <to<me that she loves you," conUmwd {mother, 44 and whatever is fq? her happiness is for mine." - The young man stltihmei'ed dtit:1*4' I :--I haven't '* ' *"-r- 44Oh, nevermind! Make no apolo gy. Iknow you haven't much mon ey; but of coarse you'll live with me. even looked love' it Sarah. " f had no idea of "-----he begun? wton she held «p her bands, saying: •« J know you hadn't; but it's all right. With your wages and what the boarders bring in, we shall get along as snug as possible All that I ask is Wat yon be good to her; Sarah has a tender heart, and if you sho«dd.be cross aa^d ugly* it would break her down in a week?' The young man's eyes stood out like cocoanuts in a shop windbw, ahd' lie rose up and tried to say something. 44 Never mind about the thanks/' she cried; 441 don't believe in long court ships. The eleventh of January is my birthday, and it would be nice for you to, be married on that day." " But--but--but" he gasped. "There, there! I don't expect say speech in reply," she laughed. 44 You and Sarah settle it to-night, and I'll m gooa tempered kind-h^art̂ fl, tlioiigE I did OUcc follow a young man 200 miles and shoot off the top of his head for agreeing to marry my daughter and then quitting the country." She patted him on the head and sailed out. And now the young man wants advice. Ho wants to know whether he had better. get in the way of a locomotive or slide off the wharf. If ever a young bachelor was sold," Sarah's young, man was in tfyfc$ ^re4icament.--Gharribers\ Journal. Gardening in Franc#* si> Wefi,T' cried I a'pose you've here you are going?"' "Well, air, exclaimed, the . man, Pfe goingtfor seven years!" ! Then the Depdty Sheriff said he - irould rather not have folks talking to lis prisoners, and Boggs gave in. ' .!* This pots us in minaof miwk Twafn's anecdote of Artemus Ward and a trav- t * .'H |linghoret between whom the follow- amusing ' Did yoti hear that amusing colloquy took place: , 'Didyou hear that last thing ot Horace Greeley ' s? 44Greeley, Greeley, Horace Greeley; • ,* ĵjvho is he?" said Artemus. ^ Five minutes elapsed, then came; y$' fi»eorge Francis Train is making a good deal of disturbance over in En m A BO: . Soks^ve, not4 Clara J---- waat-a ĵwiag eighteen. q|piteiair,e«Kl y,QhfraisM,xttoet « is an hondki fmrin< though ntx^Mfed l̂rtt) not entir% frei irain Some three nsontlks m aoopy t^mtaMe Mcea heedeiM««P^%on ms hM then 116 ideaof sMswering of the many solioitatieiis for ec «p^«dsEsc, hj »ay-iiie^i|. it who the ad ventoreri *reret «nd eland, y of epe# fr^ther act he s. ml intsndhntoftbe dollsr tb^oBvari * tothe wmtraryof ̂ ltwaluscdl« IbUneriy.': the re*m 'vm the atock bitter got th« in«eftteatk» first, usual, and made such a 4gpi pttrc^sedjwtollyjOf the it was adfandea many c share, and at the very highest was he loaded and his msttaS}%uVtin fortunately, Sharon wasted hasi •* let the cat out the. he tfey. b^kaotihe was detected, and when co the evident admitted he' who deciphered the dispfttehes of ghfpon and forwarded them to thq broker here. There were also well authcuilccUftid stories tSost yc«rs «K«> O{ how Hay ward's dispatehM from Crown Point were deciphered end several well- known brokers connected with the with the one they were doing*, tend Why they atjf er«ltaxn pering. It is to be hoped tbe pres- tised. And m îhe did look over tlMse ediimns and so she did become inter ested. „ At length she came to the conclusion. and in a harmltee way etee what might oomeofit With heart bating high ebe panned a mo l̂efst note, wMoh sim ply served to answer the advertisement, and m due course of mail a letter re turned to her post-marked Cbicago, and directed in a most beautiful hand. The teal was brbken, when the letter was found to read as follows: Cmcuee. --R -**" Clara J.-MYDEAR niBR: I wm rejoiced to reoeit* ytmr note of to- day. Bhioentacmar the notitoe in the wiper to laroe nwnBw com^Sd,<bnt rTbJ3^?'lfSCSS,,iS551S3-*Sil„,t Cacjmi 10 do ao, to ocintinne a oorrafpondence a n t i l w e a h a i l b « o o m e m u t n a l i v r -- J «ii> wttein tW Mnnot,: do you think they will put him r In prison?'1 " Train, Trai^, Geoige Francis iifsHTwutn," said Artemus, solemnly; 441 •<f never iMard of him." * "Hue tormentor tried another tack; he* - •-Aaidi "What, do you think about .^'ifJrant's chance lor the Presidency?" »«Grant, Grsiet?--Why n4anjr ^ald ^^rtebius, 44 you seem to know more THERE are over 6,000 men, > women and children engaged in growing* early1 asparagus* * lettuce, carrots ana the like in and a<noun4 Paris. The rent of the land va*!i«ia frosn $180 to $240 per acre, according to situation attd' irrigation plant. ' These market gardens- arc of comparatively small dimensions, and ¥®s*jf?oim .fierce ia . mtent. Taking the A® plant nec essary to cariy en business costs nearly $2,5(Xi? incliwanglargfe and imall bell glasses, straw mats, glased lights, frames, tools, baskets, torse* cart and other necessary materials. The regu lar workmeurit te-saad, earn an aver age pay ef ahevt forty cents per day, w^boa^. and lodging, all the year round. Extra men receive about seven c^te per hour, women five cents. Most off tlteoften come from other sections,; not so much for the sake of the wages, whieh are low for France, but in order to lease a business which they CM turn to pyofiteble account when they return to their homes after two or three years' .service. ' Amiens clahns to be ene e< tiie old est market gardening towns in France, (>|ivegeUb^s, &eving,beep grown there in the twelfth century--hundreds of years before a cabbage was grown in En gland. There an at present about 250 acres under cultivattoik, the yearly prad duce of which averages about #950 per acre. TM cabbagss often weight from 4 ;̂tp 60 pounds, beet roQts from 20 to 2ft pounds, black radishes m>m 12 to 20 pounds, and the turnips from 12 to 15 pMds. A strehflf ̂'aboni fifteen etUe^of the nortblllwt, near Roscaff, is ̂ eiebrateii lor ita <eajrly artichokes, Onions, asparagus and pptatoe*. £n- glandJak^aYftrî ear, ahout 600 tons of early ve^tables aiid 2,000 tons of onions, bein ̂about oee-third of the -#hole produetfon. Four, thousand soislf make a comfortaMe living, and even grow rich, on the produce of some two tnousaiid acres'of land. ^ Mou, a neighboring Province, has given its name to a x^gantic cabbage much grown in Weitotn France, ana largely used fgSf ciysUe feeding. The leaves e® in th«retitumn and at the end <n winter, the j^ants be ing cnt down in the spring, gathered inlfhis way, the Poitou cabhfge will ytekifram 14 to 17 to«n»per ton GtUHvaior. •» .. Ji /J II s&ns'rZ This was a charming letter to the young ladv. She read it over and over again, and carried it with her for sev eral days. The beautiful chirography and perfect orthography made it es pecially attractive, and she was con vinced that there could be nothing wrong, and, beside, if there were, she was only writing for sport, she thought, and nothing serious could happen. She had never thought much of the rough-and-ready fellows of the village who had at various times shown their honest attentions to her. She now had a real city beau, and was ev idently flattered. She knew that he was some great man--a bookkeeper, a head clerk in some opulent firm, or something of that sort. So when the proper length of time had elapsed, so that too great haste would not be man ifest, she wrote again, and thus a regu lar correspondence aprang up. Things were well along before the parents of the young lady were aware of what was going forward, and then they concluded, 011 her representations, to let it go forward. At length he asked the privilege of coming out on a visit to her. She accepted, and the t:Aie when the lovers, united in heart, were to meet face to face at length ar rived. He came, and she was as much ' captivated'with his presence as she'had been with his penmanship and compo- , sition. He remained a few short days, and it was rumored they were engaged. To be sure, her parents were not pleased with his appearance. They considered him far too showy' In dress and plausible in conversation; but Clara was satisfied, and was convinced that the old folks were stubborn and unso phisticated, and were trying to inter pose needless obstacles to the course of true love. And so, at length, they yielded; and, as the Chicago gentleman still lingered near, and was desirous of consummating a marriage with their daughter, they at length consented, and the couple who were thus Woiight together were united in holy wedlock and departed with what dowry the liberal father was able to bestow. This was less than two months ago, and last week the poor girl, now transformed into a sad and careworn woman/re turned to her father's home. - The sequel is soon told. The young husband was a gambler, and, upon ob taining his wife s money, had soon dis posed of it, and they were left,penni less. He had resorted to various make shifts to get the necessaries of life, but it had «een fotshd next to impossible to' g;efc 011, and the young -wife, at length tired of-the struggles nad written home' for money to return with. The lather isaaaiadiateiy went' to Chicago and" 're turned with his daughter. It is pretty well settled that Wilson--for that is the young husband's name--was once a stock broker and in good sBape to prosper, so far as this world's goods are concerned, but the'fascination of gambling seized him, ahd has dragged him do wn.--Cleveland iamy Special to Wkicaqo TNbune. < ̂ ers than anyone I ever saw.' « Pm.'* v I. , Deciphering Secret rfesugeai* Hi IT is said that Senator Sharon has made complaint that messages sent to him in cipher have been deciphered ana their contents given to others speculat ing in stocks, and the other Resident Director, B. O. Mills, has ordered an investigation. This decipher of dis patches of large stock speculators is not a new business, bat, on the con trary, is an old one, and one of the ad mitted evils that follow stock gambling. In tho days of the suit between the Potosi and Burning Moscow mines, a telegraph operator was sent from here by some of the mining magnates to tap the wires at Sportsman Hall, a locality about twelve mites distant from Placer* ville. In those days, the only tele graphic communication with Virginia City Was by this route. The operator was detected, arrested and finally sent to prison for a term of two years. A few years since one of our present mill ionaires, who was then not so rich in wordly goods, but fertile in resources, made arrangements with an operator in Virginia City to decipher the de spatches to Senator Sharon, those es pecially-rotating to Chollar. The Senator then, as in the present case, was not only surprised, out Indignant that what he considered his sole and private information was in the posses- eipn of this other stock operator long before it had reached him. After spen£ ing some tttfie &t toying to find the 4 4 in wardness" of this marvel, he resorted 1 sfarotegyy'̂ tlnstruete^-|̂ ^^eper ̂ "fry* tmm What on ttifw S«rion»carei>'iUalL The--n»»y nwwms Si«0%Miiijgtetif-»-n 1 at investigation will be thorough, ahd eck that betrayal of confidential mat- r which operato«* by oath bind them- Ives to keep seeret.-~ .4Ma Califorma. ,--_• ' Wife-Beating in EnflantLi'/<5"i"i <1OMING home the pther day to my ro»his I saw a crowd in the neighbor- ho#d of Portland place, and heard the shJr.U voice of a woman. As I ap provehed the center of attraction, the owadr of the voice moved away, pro tester that she would not accompany a Ion-lived vulgar man, clad in cotton velva clothes, who was smoking a clay pipe, and whose language was by no m«ans choice. The woman was slendd, evidently respectable, and quite Aber, although her excited con dition nd the crowd to imagine that she haabeen drinking. The low-lived man wa her husband, and he was threatening her that if she did not come home he ^ould 44 do for her." I need scarcoly t» explain that this phrase meant that, he would kill her. She clung to the iron area railing near Portland pltbe, and with the utmost earnestness refused to go with him. 44 You've beat me before," she said, 44 and you'll teat me again. I won't-- I won't--I von't go with you," This painful stene continued for a long time. No one interfered, and after the crowd had separated, the brutal hus band still stood on the corner, threat ening^ the wretched wife. Many peo ple laughed at the woman's predica ment and appeared^ to consider it a food joke. Whe* I entered the house found the Contemporary Review for this month on the reading table, and I opened it listlessly. My eye fell upon an article by Frances Power Cobbe, en titled 44 Wife Torture in England." In this brilliant treatise the noble woman calls on all Englishmen of chivalrous instincts to protect women against the brutality to which they are constantly exposed in certain classes of society. The writer, who may te considered an authority on the subject, says: 4 4Wife-beating exists in the upper and middle classes rather mere, I fear, than is generally recognized. But it rarely extends to anything beyend an occa sional Mow or two of a not dangerous kind. In his apparently most ungov ernable rage, the gentleman or trades man somehow manages to tear in mind the disgrace he will incur if his out break be betrayed by bis wife's black eye or broken arm, and he regulates his kicks and cuffs accordingly " The worst class of wife-beaters, according to Miss Cobbe, are colliers, puddlers, weavers, shoemakers, Btone-masons, butchers, smiths, tailors and ordinary laborers. Having made these statements, the writer gives a few statistics. She says that in London, in one year, these were 351 brutal assaults on women. Of course there were thousands of beatings which were not considered of sufficient conse quence to be brought before the Police Courts. In Lancashire 194 assaults on wives were punished. In Stafford there were 113 cases In the West Riding there wore .152, and in Durham 967. Curious,; must it be to a' foreigner to learn that in England there are ^kick ing districts," so called; that is, districts in which husbands are often punished for bruising their Wives almost to de*th with their tab-nailed shoes. In the Black Coimtfejlfche brutality is most©oi4»: spumous. ! $pdfir Hie influence of pov- erty and rod%t||..tite men swm to de generate into animals. They treat their wives ^slaves. Miss Cobbe finds that the women are much to blame. While she was collecting her information a gentleman wrote to her from Lanca shire; *4The women of Lancashire are awfully fond of bad husbands. It has become quite a' truism that our women are like dogs. The more you beat them-, the more they love you." I need hardly say that. Miss Cobbe gives a heart-rending list of the atroci ties committed by husbands in the la boring classes on their unhappy wives. If the woman whom I saw clinging to the railings near Portland -place had ever been treated like some of the poor women mentioned by Miss Cobbe, I should expect her to die father than to fet into her husband's clutches again, liss Cobbe suggests,, as a partial rem- dy for this horntde condition of affairs, a bill44 affording to these poor women, by means easily within their reach, the same redress whieh women of the rich*' er classes obtain through the IMvorce Court. They should be enabled to ob tain from the Court which sentences their husbands a protection order, which should in their case have the same value -as a judicial separation. In addition to this, the custody of the children should be given to the wife, and An order should be made for the husband to pay to the wife such week ly sum for her own and her children's maintenance as the Cottrt may see fit." England Is just now too muoh occu pied with other things to attend tb this, but surely a great and chivalrous Na tion cannot forever postpone the con sideration of secfaua scandalous teste.-- Lontim Cor. Boston Journal. * • ' --One may study Nature aH kis life time and yet never be able to explain why the man who mistes one step in going down stairs is certain- to miss three or four more before he brings up. --Detrwt Fvw Press.. " ee own HiTfcmng ewe. Be And -mi* fr- And ltwtthj»m»n. whim pranwnng li%. t n Time paSww^^c^^Mayed&ih'brinjji' *15 AADMTEEBOTUDTOERWYTHNFF. IgssaHiSsw " True won WhoMtteth np and brinsgt to nought. , ' ' ' fcUtO -I .1 ;*'S'01 ! • SosbiiUthey befolfiMindSe God t tent ylrt fonook at lued^ The nonl tfcit tnwted Him iadee .̂ ̂ obtervbr International Sunday Sche*! BIOOND QUAKTER. 1B^8. May IB--The 0*pti«« in Bfcb- •Dmim of Nebacshad- iy: jrlon. May 19 SUniel 1: 8-1?. Mw ag-The Kery Funiaoe.... Jutte J^The Handwriting on .tee Wall J one 9--Daniel in Den the Lion's --To die for one's country Is sweet, ' b u t n n h e a l t e y . { m , m.nMim-46. Daniel 32L-ZI. Daniel 6&S-S1. June le -̂Meonah's Kingdom.. Daniel 7: 9-14. Jnne 29--The Decree of Oyrns..SOhfon, 96:255-29. June 3D--B«view of the Lessons for tho Quarter. : -: ' --.--_ n ;' r Christianity and Cftar!ty» . CHBISXIAXITY . is essentially chanter ble. It makes the heart of its true sub ject benevolent, and prompts his hand to deeds of kindness to the poor and needy. Christianity is the soul of charity. It is that principle which gives it vitality and consistency. Jt is the law of benevolence in action. The charitableness of the heart of man destitute of vital piety, of controll ing love to God--is an impulsive, and capricious, and uncertain quality. It will sometimes blaze out with splendor, and at another time emit not & gleam of light and warmth. It is the off spring of circumstance, and not the outgrowth of an invariable principle. It can be flattered into biilliant dis plays, and yet be mute as the grave in answer to some humble plaint of dis tress. It will sow freely upon the great thoroughfare where there are multi tudes of eyes to behold and applaud it, but will not drop a single grain upon the by-path where there are none to see but the beseeching eyes that silently f>lead in vain to its unclasped hands, t is subject to temper or mood of mind, expanding beneath its sunshine and contracting in its gloom. It is an unregulated impulse. It lacks the bal ance-wheel of a divine law, and its operations are marked by the extremes of lavishness, on the one hand, and of niggardliness on the other. - There is, indeed, much that is beauti ful and noble in the sight of man in mere human charitableness, as distin guished from the benevolence of Chris tianity. It builds fair monuments in the hospitals, and asylums, and schools, and other institutions for the relief and benefit of humanity. It smoothes in numerable rough pillows. It sweetens the cup of sorrow pressed to the lips of multitudes. But when we have estimated the charity of the natural heart at its real value, as displayed in our public and private systems of benefaction, we must not overlook the fact that this grand humanitarian development is produced under the power and pressure of vital Christianityupon the age and upon the Nation. Where there is no Christian ity, thcro is ao bcncvolence in action; that is to say, where the principles of tii© Gospel are utterly unknown • there is no ou%Tot7th of beneficent regard for the needy. ; , ..,..., ' ' 'This is so oasentlaily md inseparably a product of Christianity, that multi tudes mistake it for the divine essence itself fae«t while yet destitute of that, cultivate with eager assiduity all the external fruits of it. To Christianity, therefore--to the blessed Gospel of God's grace in Jesus Christ--the prac tical benevolence of our age and of our land is chiefly owing. It is, after all, the religion of the Crucified One that builds our alms-houses and endows our schools; that erects hospitals and char ters institutions for the relief of the suffering poor. The hand of affluence is stretched out to poverty under, the irresistible, though unacknowledged, influence of Christianity. The noble and exemplary deeds of what is called Humanitarianism at this day, are noth ing else than its unconscious tributes to the spirit and power of the religion of Christ--which, however, is not hu man, but divine. If the indirect power of Christianity is thus effectual in fashioning the spirit of the age into beautiful forms of be nevolence and beneficence; if it en larges and warms the great bosom of humanity with its influences and im pulses; if it makes the pulse of the Na tion throb witH kinctyiness to the poor, with pity for the suffering, with sympa thy for the children of misfortune; if the indirect power of Christianity can and does certainly accomplish this, what must be tho fruits of its direct and unintercepted power upon the hearts of its possessors? Most they not be emi nently benevolent and charitable? Ought not their xegard, and pity, and consideration for the poor to l>e dis tinguished in measure and in manifesta tion alike? There i# but one possible answer to these questions. Christians must be of all men the most charitable. The love of God cherished in the heart makes it unselfish, and unselfishness is the very soul and substance ot true be nevolence. The unrenewed heart is in love with itself. It seeks its own gratification in 1 toll thing* Wfcen it finds deliglrt in the fiahnw 1s the lovely in human sight heart rfrtooM, OTpt latter, and thLrckaage, te either case, ratpifote the omnipotence of ited's gtmm tq effecJll.--Cftfcgod ' "**•« tejtfl fhstoat* eerviees should be eom- Penaetod. Oftentimeafth« JbtfiwfrOfci the residence or chttr^i to the grave occupies iweral jfoors of Valuable time. T)0jrt .tufbldnot be «ijp4ted to give toa* anal toil in tbis^oepart™ ment of professional serrice tfraiuit- otmly. If 111* light'lu pay a unrxfege J"®*st *©. fy a funeiel fee. Both forms of service are extra;, and if either should be more generous ly rewarded than the other, mmfly the ®h« whiohiBoqulres moat theeght* time and exposure should claim the prefer- once. Of course there should be no formal charge; in some few instances the family which is bereawd may be too poor to pay for im&isteria! .anoe. -In sucn case, no true pastro #ould even think of cofopensAtson^' or accept it, if proffered. But ordinarily^ we suggest the propriety and jus^ce of paying the minister a reasonable fee tor his services, just as the undertaker is paid. It of tent occprs fh# pastors ape asked to venture through mclem7 ent weather long distances, to the neg lect of other important duties, and to the forfeiture of opportunities to, se cure needed temporal helps, to con duct a funeral service, and are per mitted to go home weary and unre warded. It is wrong. -MethodittuJhf carder. - ' W " i ' 1 . > • . A . The 01d>FashioneS Sllle* I IK the by-gone days of Der schutz, rifle-snooting was a very differ ent affair from the routine business now /ao well known to all of us--thanks to the volunteer movement. The old- fashioned rifleman, Kuno, head-ranger to the Grand Duke , of Schlo?s-Wind>- beutel, used a rifle as unlike the Mar tini-Henry or the Snider as could well be imagined. Into the nature of Caspar's fun and bullets it is needless to inquire; ut it is perfectly well known how Ku no's weapon was constructed, and what he did with it. It was aheavy grooved rifle, with a rather sharper twist than that now in fashion. Kioto canted with him a quantity of apparatus be side his flint-lock gun. He had two powder-horns, one for loading and tjie other for priming; he had a store of wadding and of greased circles of leath er, ana a little hammer. When fre loaded his gun he gave his mind tb"a very serious operation. First of all he wiped out his gun carefully, then poured in his coarse powder and wad. and rammed all down. He next took a greased piece of leather, or, in de fault of leather, of linen, and placed this over the muzzle of. his gun. % In this greased disk was laid the old-fash ioned spherical bullet, too large to fil ter the barrel without persuasion. This he applied with the hammer before mentioned, driving the ball by main strength into the muzzle, and then forc ing it down with the ramrod. He then primed his gun with some Very fine powder, and if his hand wer& steady, and both flint and steel were in gpod condition, all went well. Excellent shooting was made with these old rifles, within, of course, a far more limited range than that of the last new im provements. Whatever maybe thought Of the comparative merits of breech and muzzle loading in the case of artillery, there is little doubt that the breech loader has, as a small arm, completely superseded its sometime riv*L-*j4lfjUbe Year Bound. ^ rl ^ t% K ;'*y '; 'Fedefe. i r ; ' : V - ' V " ' - ' i **'(;.'» :<••• i*tyr ̂iAMOiO ( the Alban Hills* which <*re situated come miles from Eome, a^Iad was tending his father's goats, when 'his eye caught the glitter of araasia the distance, and 'he • knew at onoc tfesfc^the King of-Etruria, who had threatened to mf^e war upon the Eomaa Republic, was about to carry out Ms threat. Without waiting'to communicate With his friends, he set off at the top oHiis speed toward the great city, to war* its Inhabitants of their danger and ^>id them prepare for the coming foe. Lithe and active, the Rttle brd?wn mountaineer went bounding down the slopes, and across the Wide marshrplain, bestrewn with huge fragments ot jrock, and intersected by sluggish streams and reedy morasses, amfd whi<A the fed- eyed buffaloes lurked. Otf he -sped( as fast as his sinewy legs would carry Mm, but he had a long way to go; the sun wa,s scorching--there was no pleasant shade of leafy trees to shelter him from Its fierce glare, norany sweel cb6P#4ter to refresh hitn, for all aboutft was unfit to drink, being brackish and muddy. ThrOurii a dreary desolate region hejiad to go. Mis limbs were ready »o sink.un- der him, his thirst almost'intolerable; yet the lad' scourge did »oti«»ii-r-he kept bravely on. and at length entered the city gate, through which he passed, and ascended the hill to the Capitol, where the Senate of the Republic 1&14 lit sit tings. He was just able to Whispcfc1 the fatal'-news; than he sank down, - and complained of a sharp pain in his. foot, on examination of which it was found that a thorn had penetrated vary'deep ly beneath the skin. * It Was that this should be extracted, tsM the lad died under the operatioh. " Grateful for such a noble deed of deration t» his country, the Senate decreed that hence forth ail the gate-keepers strtftdct come from VitroohfaBo, the boy's native vU- la^e, and that they should be ealted Fedele--the faitUNL , r How imperishable is the memory of a good deed! In the beautltal CSty of Florence there is a marble bust of this lad Yitrochiano, In tiM^tct of • extract ing the thorn, from tii foot; this is not strictly in aooordaaoe , hi^orlc truth--he was too muoh overcome by fatigue to attempt tliisu it was done for him, with $atal ranlt.--Y. Ob- ec^T