• Va*w*- si&Vv.A. 4Mb, "i«T .11 J# •v •"£2 NKIB1.Y BCBIED ,TU£ scene was iu Italy; the facts were related to me by the daughter of two of the parties ooueeiu&d, and 1 shall tell the tale as nearly as possible as the told it to me. " You will scarcely wonder," she mid, " at my horror of being buried alive, when I tell you that a peculiar fate seems to pursue our family, or at least did pursue it in the last genera- lion. My father r/its an only son, and having b«en born several years after his parents' marriage, was an object of especial devotion. His mother was enable to nurse him herself, and a country woman was procured from a village at some distance from the cha teau where his parents resided, who Was not only well calculated to replace the mother as a nurse, but was of so affectionate a disposition that she seemed to throw her whole soul into her care for the well-being of the child and lavished as much affection on him as did the real mother. When the age came for weaning him, it was found impossible to accomplish it while the nurse remained with*him; and so, aft er many terrible scenes and the most heart-breaking sorrow on her part, she had to go. The boy throve very well until he was about three years old, when he was attacked by some childish malady and to all appearances died. " It is unnecessary to dwell on the distracted grief of the parents. The mother could scarcely be induced to leave the body, and even though all life was extinct, grudged every mo ment as it flew toward the time when even what was left of her darling Would have to be removed forever. (The time that was allowed by the Government for bodies to remain un- buried was three days.) The father had gievn strict orders that the child's nurse should not be informed of the death of her foster-son until after the funeral, as he felt convinced she would at once come to see him, and he dreaded the effect the sight of her grief might have on his already broken-hearted wife. However, the order was ill kept, and on the morning of the funeral, alter all the guests had arrived, and were grouped around the coffin taking their last farewell of the lovely boy, in rushed the nurse, her hair down, her dress all torn and travel-stained, her boots nearly worn off her feet. On hearing the news, she had started off without waiting for extra clothing, without word or look to any one, and had run the whole night, in order to be in time to see her boy. As she en tered the room she pushed past serv ants and guests, find on reaching the ooflin seized the child, and before any one was aware of her intention, or had presence of mind to prevent her, she had vanished with him in her arms. It was fouuu she had carried him off to the grtnUr, or garret, and had locked and barricaded the door. She paid no attention to threats or. entreaties, and all attempts at forcing the door were equally fruitless. The guests waited patiently, hoping that she would before long return to her senses and bring back the child's body for burial. . ** At the end of an hour or more they heard the heavy furniture rolled away and the door opened. The nurse appeared, but with no dead child in her arms--the little things arms were clasped lovingly rouna her neck as she pressed him to her bosom. The mourn ful assemblage was turned into one of jojful congratulation. The woman would never speak of the means she used to lestore the boy to life; indeed, although she became from that hour a resident in the family and a trusted and valued friend, she steadily forbore ever referring to the incident in which she played so important a part. She lived to see the rescued child mar ried and with a family of his own around Mm. "The heroine of the second anecdote was a first cousin of the above * rescued •child'--a young lady of thirteen or fourteen years old. After a somewhat protracted illness, she, to all appear ance, died. The mother literally re fused to believe it, although the doc tors and the other inmates of the house saw no reason to doubt the fact. The funeral was arranged, the grave made, and the specified three days had come* to an end. The mother had never left her daughter's body; she had tried every available means to restore her, but to no avail. As the hour ap proached for the ceremony to take place, she became more and more des perate in her efforts to convince herself that life still lingered. As a last re source, she went for some strong elixir, sad taking out of her pocket a fruit- knife with two blades--one blade of gold the other of silver--proceeded by oontinual working to force the gold blade between the teeth. When insert ed, she poured a drop of elixir on the blade, them another and another, and tried to* make it enter the mouth, but it seemed only to trickle back again and down the chin. Still she perse vered, becoming more desperate as the moments flew on to the hoy, now so near, when her child was to be taken from her. At the very last, when she was beginning to dread the very worst, she thought she detected a slight spasm in the throat; and on closer examina tion she became aware that the liquid Was no longer returning, as it did at first. She continued the application, every moment feeling more excited and more joyfully hopeful. Presently the action of swallowing became more de cided; she felt a feeble flutter at the heart, and before long the eyes gradu ally opened, and closed again; but the breathing became quietly regular, and the mother was satisfied r that now no one would dispute the fact; so she called her household around her, aud proved to them the joyful fact that her «jhild was restored to her, and that no Huneral procession would leave the house that day. Before long the child Silly recovered. The fruit-knife with 4|a two blades is to this day the most precious heirloom in the family pos- <tfession. "The recovered one lived to form a deep attachment to her cousin (the res cued boy of the first story), possibly from the fact of the strange similarity in their early history; but his affections were already engaged by the voung lady whose story we are now going to relate, the facts of which resemble somewhat those already told. This yOung person was no longer ft child when death seemed to claim her, but had reached the age of eighteen or nineteen. She had been suffering from an infectious and dangerous fever, nnd when the crisis arrived, instead of ral lying, she, to all appearance, died. It was the custom of tne district in which she lived to dress marriageable girls as brides after death, and to bury them in their bridal costume. The young lady in question was therefore laid out as a bride, in a white dress, orange-flower wreath and veil. The day before the funeral, the most intimate friend of the deceased, who had been on a visit at a distance, came home, and insisted with floods of tears that she should be al lowed to see her. The mother most decidedly refused, explaining that her daughter had been the victim of an in fectious fever, and that she could not allow the daughter of a friend to run the risk of cat ching it. The young lady Persisted, and would not leave the ouse; but the mother, much as it pained her, was firm in her refusal. However, in the evening the young friend being on the watch, saw the Said watcher leave the room to go own to supper, leaving the door un locked. She immediately entered, and having reverently kissed her friend's pale face, knelt down bv the side of the bed to pray. There were candlcs at each side of the bed at its head, and two placed on a table at its foot " The poor girl was deep in her pray ers, when suddenly, without any move ment or warning, the dead girl sat up and said in a sharp tone of voice: ' Que faistu laV (What are you doing there?) Startled and horrified to the last de gree, her friend sprang to her knees, and in trying to rush out of the room upset the table on which the candles were placed and became wedged be tween it and the bed, her head down- most! Inextricably entangled, she shrieked loudly for help. The sup posed dead girl had a keen sense of the ridiculous, and being weakened from illness, she went off into a hysterical fit of laughter; and the more her poor friend Kicked and screamed, the more she kept up the duet by'peals of laughter. The mother ana household hearing the noise, rushed up as quick ly as possible. The mother was the hrst to enter the room, and being a quick-witted woman, at once compre hended the situation; she flew to her daughter, and angrily ordering her to be quiet and not laugh at her friend's misfortune, she pressed her to her bosom, and ^hastily tearing off wreath ana veil, droppecl them *on the floor and kicked them under the bed; then calling assistance, she carried the girl into another room and put her to bed. The doctor, who had been at once sent for, ordered her to be taken home with out delay, and they started as soon as was possible. She perfectly recovered; but, strangely enough, could never call to mind the startling events of her re turn to life. She afterward married the gentleman who was the hero of the first story. Her poor friend, when ex tricated from her unpleasant position, was quite delirious; she had a nervous fever, of which she nearly died, and she never entirely recovered from the shock her friend's sudden return to life had given her." On writing to the lady who related these anecdotes for permission to pub lish, she says: "You are at liberty to make what use you like of our family story, on condition you do hot mention names of family or places; but you may add, that all three who were so nearly buried alive lived to be very old--my father to eighty-four, my mother and aunt to seventy-six--retaining their health, rare intelligence and, to a won derful extent, their personal beauty to the last."--Chambers' Journal. FACTS AND FIGURES. beeVes . Fishing Extraordinary* 1 MUST tell you about white fishing at Sault Sainte Marie. While our boat stopped I went down to the beaoh where a dozen Indians live, who are the most wonderful fishermen that I know of. For twenty-five cents I was given a special show. Seating myself in a canoe, one Indian took nis posi tion seated in the stern, and another stood in the bow. The one in the stern Used a paddle to keep the boat's head up stream, while the other used a pole to steady the boat. He had a dip net about four feet in diameter, with a handle twelve or fifteen feet long. This was hung over the projec tion of the cut-water, while the handle trailed back in the water. Thus equip ped, we sailed out, into the rapids, which are half a mile in length ana one mile wide. At the foot of the rapids the fishing is done. The water boils and tumbles like the swiftest rift on the Delaware, and is generally half white with breaking foam. With his pole, the Indian in the bow holds the canoe, or lets it float steadily sideways, now up a little, then down, but always un der perfect control and always dancing with the rush of water. He watches the water constantly, which varies in depth from eight to nine feet. Sud denly with a quick motion he shoves the end of the pole under the bow piece, grasping the net at the same time with the other hand, and, never taking his eye from the water, plunges it in, per haps ten feet away, and forces it to the bottom, or, as the canoe sags back with the current, lets it drop a few feet, and then with a peculiar twist hie raises it to the surface, and with a toss like turning a flapjack, drops a five-pound whitensh into the canoe. This was re peated time and again, right in the swiftest water, and seldom only one fish was caught, but. once six that would weigh eighteen pounds. Often I could not see the bottom, and one was caught in eight or ten feet of wa ter. I could see no fish until they were brought to the surface, it was the only Kind of fishing tnat I ever saw that I did not think I could learn to do. It is said no white man ever did learn. The Indian I was with took three hundred in one day. We were out an hour and took about thirty.-- Letter to the Deposit (Ar. Y.) Courier, CdtbRAPO will ship 500,000 to the East this season. a THERE are 100,000 Israelites in San Francisco, and 10,000 more in the rest of California. OVER two hundred million paper col lars are annually consumed in the United States. RUTLAND COUNTY, Vt., averages about thirty divorces'a year, in a pop ulation of 40,000. SINCE its foundation, in 1795, the present Paris Mint has coined 1,700,- 000,000 gold pieces. "bvER 132,000 persons are employed on the East India railroads.. The great er number are natives. MOBE than one-half of the total pop ulation of France depends on agricult ure as a means of living. THE New Orleans Picayune esti mates the pecuniary loss by the epi demic there at over $1,000,000 in actual outlay. »OF cotton cloth the United States exported last year 126,000,000 yards, while the amount in 1871 was but 18,- 000,000. THE full returns of the Assessors make the total valuation of Massachu setts $1,550,428,625, against 226,792 a year ago. THE fertile soil and genial climate of the United States induced 80,610 Cana dians to emigrate during the year end ing June 80,1878. COLONIES are being formed in the Pennsylvania oil regions to emigrate to Texas, with a view to develop the petroleum resources of the Lone Star State. THE value of goods carried over the Pennsylvania Railroad during the year 1876 Amounted to the sum of $590,942,- 158, not including the value of goods carried by express. ^ * AFGHANISTAN has a population vari ously estimated at from 4,000,000 to 7,500,000, and can easily furnish 100,- 000 fighting men, while the border hill tribes hostile to the English can easily furnish as many more. SOME idea may be formed of the progress of China within recent years from the faet that of the 9,268,000 tons of foreign-built vessels engaged in the local carrying trade between the treaty ports,"" the Chinese themselves own 3,955,000 tons. THE whole number of Postoffices in the United States on the 30th of June, the last day of the last fiscal year, was 30,258, showing a net increase of 1,913 during the year. Most of the new PostoMces were established in the Southern States. THE consumption of cotton by Amer ican manufacturers was greater by 110,000 bales in 1878 than in 1877. The yield of the staple in the United States exceeds that of any year on record, be ing 4,811,265 bales, of 1,480 pounds gross each, up to Sept. 1. THE Saii Francisco Call states that up to the close of September an even hundred cargoes ot this year's wheat had passed out of the Golden Gate. The aggregate is 178,156 tons, worth $6,087,497. This is the largest export movement of the great staple during the first quarter of any harvest year in the history of San Francisco. A REPORT of the Bureau of Statistics shows that in the year ending June 30, 1878, the export of mowers and reap ers amounted to 10,496, valued at $1,- 018,916. Of plows and cultivators there were exported 20,710, valued at $154,- 977. Of all other agricultural imple ments and tools there was exported $1,379,467 worth. Taking all the ex ports grouped under the head of agri cultural implements, the gain was nearly 50 per cent, as compared with the same for 1877. THE Cincinnati Enquirer of a recent date publishes statistics and approxir mate estimates of the corn crop for 1878, as follows: In fifty-one counties in Oliio the number of acres planted is 1,935,000. The yield in bushels is 63,- 805,000, being an increase over last year of about 1,500,000 bushels. In forty-eight counties of Indiana the number of acres planted is 2,028,000. The yield in bushels is 48,920,000r be- ing about 2,000,000 decrease. In ten counties in Kentucky the number of acres planted is 129,000, the yield in bushels is 3,003,000, being 300,000 de crease. A " •' B . A Vermont Murder. THE case of John P. Phair, tried and convicted for the murder of Ann E. Frieze at Rutland, Vt., on June 9,1874, sentenced to be hanged for the crime, and reprieved an hour before the time fixed for the execution, illustrates how an apparently perfect chain of circum stantial evidence may convict an inno cent man with a crime. The house in which the murdered woman lived Was burned on the night of June 8, or early on the morning of June 9, 1874, and her body, bearing fatal wounds, was found in the ruins. It was known that Phair had been keeping company with her, and he was arrested for the nlur- der. The prosecution proved that a man, supposed to be Phair, visited Bos ton, and registered at the Adams House as " E. F. Smith, St. Albans, Vt.," on the 10th of June, the day after the murder; that man visited two pawn shops in Boston, the same day, and pawned a shawl, an opera-glass and a ring, all belonging to the murdered woman, and signed the name of " E. F. Smith, St. Albans, Vt.," on the pawn-tickets. The experts testified that the writing on the tickets was that of- Phair, and the two Boston pawn brokers swore to his identity. The case against him was considered perfect, and the jury found him guilty. He was sentenced to be hanged April 6, 1877. About ten days before that day Mr. Carrigan, Agent of the Associated Press, visited Phair in his cell, and had an interview with him. He found him resigned to his fate. He persistently and passionately asserted bis innocence, but as the universal conviction seemed --"I'll take another yard of that binding, if you please," said a woman to a counter-jumper. "Beg pardon," said the clerk, 44 but I understood you five yards." "That's right," replied the customer, " but another yard will make it more binding.' that it might in some way lead to the vindication of his memory. Mr. Car- f igan asked him for this statement that it might be given to the public before tli<» day of execution, but the prison er refused, JMr. Carrigan, whose mind seemed to be vaguely impressed with a sense of the prisoner's inno cence, entreated and pleaded with him, and at last induced him to consent that the document might be printed in the Boston papers on the morning of the day of execution. The day came, and the statement was published. In it Phair related how he nad slept at his hotel in Rutland, on the night of the 8th; left Rutland at four o'clock on the morning of the 9th of June; that he ar rived at Boston in the afternoon of the same day. He detailed all the inci dents of his stay in Boston and his trip to Providence the same day in search of work; how, having failed to get work in Providence, he returned to Boston, sitting in the same seat with a man who saidne was engaged in mak ing novelties, and wanted Phair to travel and sell his fabrics on commis sion. Phair declined to engage in a business he did not understand, and told the stranger he would go back to Rutland. The two rode together till the train reached Boston, when they separated. Phair remained in Boston till five o'clock in the afternoon, and then took the train to Rutland. Before he reached there be was arrested on the train, on the mornings of the 10th of June, for the murdeg--his trip, as narrated by himself, embracing the time .when the murder must have been committed. „ Mr. M. D. Downing, Manager of the American Novelty Works, Boston, read this statement on the morning of the publication, and on coming to that part where the prisoner related his meeting with a stranger on the Providence and Boston train, in stantly recognized himself as the stranger, and, springing from his chair, exclaimed: " My God, tney have got the wrong man; this man is innocent!" This was nine o'clock on the day ap pointed for the execution, and it is 200 miles from Boston to Windsor, Vt., where the execution was to take place. Burdened with the thought that a probably innocent man was to be exe cuted within two hours he went from one Boston newspaper office to another to ask what was the best course to pur- Jue, and finally sent off the following ispatches indorsed by Charles H. Tav-lor, managing editor of the Boston Globe: Boerrow, April, 1877. GOT. Fairbanks, Montpelier, Vt.: I think 1 saw and conversed with the iqan who is to be executed to-day,, on the train coming from Providence to Boston, June 10, 1874. I send by advice of Chief of Police. H [Signed] M. D. DOWNING. (50 School st. To the Sheriff at Prison, Windsor, Vt.: A reliable man here states, after reading Phair's statement, that he is certain thit he met Phair on train, from Providence and Boston, June 10,1874, and thinks he can identify him. The man he met was a large man; said he was from Rutland, and had applied to Screw Com pany, Providence, for work. Had yon not better communicate with the Governor before hanging ? [Signed] CHARLES H. TAYLOB, Manager of Globe, It was ten o'clock when these dis patches were sent off, and half an hour later news was received that the Gov ernor had granted a reprieve. The rest of the story is thus told: •4 The scene in the Prison when the news of the reprieve was received beg gars description. At an early hour the scaffold was made ready, and at one o'clock, Phair, dressed in plain black, was ready for execution. He was calm and collected, and fully rec onciled to the ordeal. He spoke freely of the execution, expressed the hope that death would be instantaneous, said he was determined to die bravely and to affirm his innocence while on the drop. While he was waiting to be con ducted to the scaffold, it was announced to him that a respite had been granted. On receiving the joyous tidings, so wholly unexpected, he exclaimed,4 God be praised!' and, apparently bewil dered, he was overcome with emotion and fainted. With few exceptions all present expressed great relief and joy at the announcement of the Governor's respite, as Phair had made a good im pression during his term of confine ment in Jtne Prison at Windsor."--Mis souri Republican, Religious TEE DEPARTING BELIEVE*. strong against him, he had made up his minato die, and prepared a minute statement of where he had been and what he had done during the several days before, after and including the 9th of June, the day of the murder. J intending to leave it behind him for lF publication after his death, in the hope Fleet Marriages In England. 44 A MULTIDUDE of clergymen," Mr. Lecky adds, 44 usually prisoners for debt, and almost always men of notori ously infamous lives, made it their busi ness to celebrate clandestine marriages in or near the Fleet. They performed the ceremony without license or ques tion, sometimes without even knowing the names of the persons they united, and in the most disreputable places. Almost every tavern or brandy shop in the neighbor hood," we are told, 44 had a Fleet parson in its pay. Notices were placed in the windows, and agents went out in every direction to solicit the passers-by." "One clergyman, who officiated in a chapel in May Fair, is said to have married on an average 6,000 couples every year; and, accord ing to his own admission, he married many thousands, most of whom were strangers to each other the week be fore, and many had been acquainted only a day or half a day. " Young and inexperienced heirs," to quote Mr. Lecky's significant words, "fresn from college or even from school, were thus continually entrapped. A passing frolic, the excitement of drink, an al most momentary passion, the decep- t;on or intimidation of a few unprinci pled confederates, were often sufficient to drive or inveigle them into sudden marriages which blasted all the pros pects of their lives. In some cases, when men slept off a drunken fit, they heard, to their astonishment, that dur ing its continuance they had gone through the ceremony." ' Finally, " it was proved before Parliament," says Mr. Lecky, 44 that on one occasion there had been 2,954 Fleet marriages in four months; and it appeared from the memorandum-books of Fleet parsons that one of them made £57 in marriage fees in a single month; that another had married 178 couples in a single day." Such were the abuses possible under the Marriage law at the begin ning of the century, the history of which Mr. Lecky has undertaken to write. They no longer exist; and it is impossible to overestimate the moral or the political importance of their ex tinction.-- Unitarian Review. for another chorister! •' ?-I Place for smother voice > * « .;:|?7§yhere angel bands their antlmas , And ransomed sonls rejoice." . j dpoom for one more :JQ habitant ! i Where mansions stately stand .ii j|jVaiting for dwellers newly c«me " To the celestial land. Welcome another pilgrim hottf* Earth's weary journey o'er," o holy peace and endless zea: , A wanderer nevermore. I ' • I f : I * > { If Another guest for the promised feut: M' Another robe «»1 white; Another crown of life brought forth. With fadeless Jewels bright. On earth the wail of the bereaved Wrung from the smitten heart, ;; » The mortal grief that rends the soul When cherished friends depart; In Heaven, peace for the troubled _ Balm for the bruised and sore, • > Joy of the parted, rxe er again To part forevermore. - : . « Oh! contrast wonderful past thought: i.Here, death and grief and s^tn; 'There, an eternity of life' ' And ever new delight! Here, mingling with its native dust, y -A c lod o f moidpna-r eJay ' • ?- By love s reluctant hand consigned ' . To darkness and deeay: ^ Thcfs,spr!uSiuj luto - A s p i r i t n e w l y b o r n . , • < . Bailing the light that glorifies The resurrection morn! God speed the spirits taking wing! Good angels guide their Might From darkness and the shades of Lip to the land of light! : > •.> And God lie praised for Him who died. The Lamb for sinners slain, Wty» broke the power of death that we l^Him might live again. . _ . --H. If. aolt, in Vhrlttiatl Cnidfk. Sunday-School Leases?. FOURTH QUABTKR. Nov. 10--Whom the Lord BeoeivesXiiltc IS: 9-17 Nov. 17--ZacchenB, the Publican..Luke 19: 1-10 Nov. 24-- Judaism Overthrown.... Luke 21: 8-21 Dec. i--ihe Lord's Sapper Lake 22:10-20 Dec. 8--T he Cross -................. Luke 2H: 83-46 Dec. 15--The Walk to Emmaus--Luke 24:13-32 Dec. 22- The Savior's Last Words . Luke 24:44-68 Deo. '22- Eswiew, Temperance or Missionary Con- oert. THE LOVE OF HONEY. THE love of money is not a simple disposition to acquire wealth.' That arises from man's power to project his thoughts into the future and to provide for disability and old age. It is rather commendable than blameworthy. The Bible nowhere condemns it. Indebdy in the Old Testament we read that riches, consisting, of cornfields, vine yards and olive yards were promised those who walked in the ways of truth and probity. The !New Testament also, though very emphatic on the dangers of wealth, says not a word against its acquisition by proper means, or its possession, if rightly used. The love of money is pronounced "the root of all evil," or, perhaps more strictly rendered, the root of all kinds of evil. This is a sordid thirst of gain as a possession merely, and not as a power to be used for the glory of God and the good of men. It increases with the increase of wealth, crying "More, more," like the horse-leech and the grave. "This disposition," says another, "becomes first a kind of intemperance, and then, like intem perance, it becomes a disease,, and finally a species of insanity.M Its first manifestation is a tenacity to hold money; its second is to use it for no other purpose than to increase it; its last is to regard it only as capital to be invested for the sake of its interest, and to regard the interest as intended only to be turned again into capital. This disposition grows insensibly upon a person. For years, if not for a lifetime, he has not the slightest sus picion that he comes under the tre mendous malediction of Paul in the sixth chapter of his First Epistle to Timothy. When he discovers that some of his uncharitable neighbors are classifying him with the lovers of money, he deludes himself by saying: "They are ignorant of my plans. When I have amassed a large fortune, I mean to endow colleges, erect orphan asylums, support hospitals and pour streams of gold into the treasury of the Church." Under such a delusion, even good men rob God for years and injure their own souls. This disposition not, only grows in sensibly, but eats up all the vitality of the soul. It cools its warm currents and kills its noblest sensibilities. It renders it suspicious of the value or success of any measure or undertaking that has not for its end the coining of money. It casts around it an encrust* ation of earth that keeps it aloof from all the benign Sind softening influences of society. It clips its wings and keeps it tied down to the dust of earth. It leaves nothing for it to enjoy with its wealth when it has acquired it. It has consumed everything else. The love of money plunges a man into moral evils of the most destructive kind. According to the teaching of the Apostle, it exposes him to tempt a- tion. It tends to make him untruthful. The love of money exposes a man also to dishonesty. If he is a mer chant, he is tempted to give short weights and measures, to adulterate his goods, or to makfe false entries, when he gives credit, justifying ft on the grouna of small profits in conse quence of competition. If he is a banker or broker, he is tempted to take advantage of the crippled condi tion of the borrower, of to press too hard the man whom he knows to be in his power. If he is a real estate owner, he is tempted to extort the last cent ^rom the poor tenant and to op press even the widow and the or phan. If he is the manager of other men'8 estates, he is tempted to run up a long list of expenses that are purely imaginary, for the sake of filling his coffers. The man who exposes himself to temptation is almost sure to fall into a snare. Before he knows it, he finds his foot fast in its snare. It is an easy step from exposure to temptation into a snare. An opportunity of realizing a large sum of money ojJens before him. There is the temptation. Having no money of his own to secure the coveted prize, he uses the means of others lying idle in his hands, or in the vault to which he, has access, without their knowledge or consent, in the hope of replacing it after securing a hand some sum for himself. Here is the * M-, snare. He soon finds that his oalculal tions were faulty and that ruin stare|~ him in the face. Though he is not a|. sure of success the "second time, y« necessity is laid upon him to tlircM for the sjtvfiig He reports more desperate measures, as false en^ tries, perjury and the like. But hf|) only gets more and more en$angledf C) until he finds himself beating his once generous breast against the sides of iron cage. , • -- When fairly caught in the snare anfl; striving to • extricate himself, he is lb able to fall " into many foolish an£? hurtful lusfs." Whilst he has posses* sioti of money he often indulges in exl* travagance--in a costly dwelling, esp'* penstve furniture, sumptuous fieast^ elegant equipages, munificent preseuta and princely displays. He easily glider* from these foolish to hurtful lusts. At his condition-grows dangerous and des perate, he resorts to the sntoxicatinaj cup to strengthen his niii'ves and brdeff * tiimfor t^ie struggle. He,is led, by an awful secret he durst pot divulge to his. wife, to the company ol the dissipated and reckless, and with them go^s dowlSft to the gal es of Hell. All this becloudf the intellect, creates suspicions as to his habits an^ precipitated his terribW* ruin. r • G maa o/ 9°^- things Make money your servant,, not your-, , master. Never put yourself in hig/ power. He is a good and.faithful Setr*?' ant, but a severe and uncompromising master. Keep him ever as a help to carry on the higher Interests of the soiiT and to hasten the Kingdom of Christ?.1: Give God the full share of all you have; and your fellow-men that which they can rightly claim. Be just to God and man--i-jnst, oiear> down to the very depths of your soul. In the market, in the workshop, in the . counting-room, on the exchange, every where and at all times, do justly, love mercy and walk humbly with God. Remember that the fashion of the world . passeth away. Everything you have of earth must perish}"but God, religion, virtue and Heaven shall continue un changeably the same.--Rev. Wm. C. Roberts, in N. T. Observer. Old-Time Conversions. SOME things have changed. Conver sion in the time of Jesus, the author of our religion, Was not a mental exer*. cise or an intellectual process. It wt}S changing one's way of living, dropping a style of conduct and taking up an other style, in imitation of another man who lived that other style. CoAi version, to-day, is A series of mental exercises which are supposed to ulti mate in a better mode of acting. In the olden time the mode' of acting preceded the mental ex-' ercise. The man to-day feels so. and so, or thinks he dees, and there fore does so and so; the man in the day of Christ began to do certain deeds, and, as the result, felt rightly. The right acting preceded the happy feel ing. We have got the cart ahead of the hotee, and look for happy feelings before we have done that righteousness which alone can bring happiness of mind. The joy of the Lord is only known to those who live the life of the Lord in its goodness.--Mr. Murray, vfe Golden Rule. Felling: Trees by Electricity* THE electric fluid, in the form of lightning, oftentimes proves itself a very efficient wood-cutter, and it h&s occurred to some ingenious gentlemen, in India, that artificial electricity may be so applied and controlled as to cut down trees a good deal faster than the clumsy ax or that American notion, the chain-saw. The two ends of ttoij copper wires of a galvanic battery are connected with platinum wire, which of course instantly becomes red-* hot, and while in that state it is gently see-sawed across the trunk of the tree to be felled. When arrangements were made for the experiment, it turned oat that the thickness of the thickest plati num-wire that could be got was only that of crochet-cotton; It was at on6e seen that such a wire would be con sumed before the tree was half severed from its trunk. However, the attempt was made. The burning wire perform ed its task very wen so long as it la but, as anticipated, the wire continual ly broke, and at length there was no wire left. There can be little doubt that, with a stronger battery and thick er wire, the experiment would have been entirely successful. As it was, the tree was sawn one-fifth through. It is calculated that, under proper condi tions, a tree, which at present takes two hours to fell, will come to the ground by this process in fifteen min utes. It is almost needless to add that there is no waste of wood, no sawdust. --English Journal. Bad for Boys. * A RAT of a boy who had in Vain searched the Postoffice corridors for the nickel which a careless hand occa sionally drops at the stamp-clerk's window, yesterday took his position before a chestnut stand on Griswold street and eyed the fresh nuts a long time before drawing a deep sigh and groaning; , # . " Oh, 1 wish I was rich!" The chestnut-roaster made no reply, 'and th<3 odor of the roasting njits finally induced the boy to inquire:, . " Are chestnuts health; ?*' "No, bub--they are prolific 6f indi gestion," was the reply. After awhile the l>oy thought it was time to remark: " Did you ever hear the story of the man who gave a poor boy a handful of chestnuts, and when the boy grew up and got rich he rewarded the old majji with a diamond pin and a four-horse team?" , "No, never did, bQt I heard of the man who brought a poor boy to the edge of the grave by giving him a dozen chestnuts." The lad took a turn up and down, secured another strong sniff of the pleasant odor, and then leaned over and whispered: " If I'll take the ohances of the edge- of-the-grave business will you take the chances on the chestnuts?" The vender finally thought he would. -- D .roit Free Press.