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TIIUOUUH 1'IIK SNOW. wi,at bIkiiiM I watch when tlio snow lies white On tl« top of the distant hill? I'or what should 1 listen when nil is husli'd \nl when even tlio brook is stillV I jTa|t (or kuow that my lovo will coma. On soni.' iTiaml of msrey bent, An'l my ll'a wili 1k l,V':U fl'iJ and bright ./ With the cli:irm of a sweet content. So I wait lor 'ho crncklo of tru/.on snow, for a it.f)) that sntluth my heart .-itfioiv, For a voici) whose music too woll 1 know, As my lady conies through the snow. 'niow she will come, for the snow is hard Whmi it lies ut the poor man's door. \.IKI tlM'rrforo my lovo with lior stcntlo hear'. Thinks the rich should befriend tho now. 4 So not v»ft:ly shall I for her coininc wait, A Ml prrchatice it may even be 31'- lady shall learn from to-day to own Jtaf her pi'y should reach to m». So I wait for the crackle of frozen snow, i''er a step that setteth my heart aciow, 'ora voico whose music too well I know. As my lady comes throuzh tho now. jlrM 'hen when she comes thro' tho crisp white snow, she meet ine with ulud surprise? AM then, shall I re-id what my heart would know In 1 lie Kieam of her swoot blue eyes? know she will »:ive in« at ioast a smile, And iny heart in its light shall clow, love, in its warmth, can defy the cold. Ami can lauirli though the nortli winds blow. So I wait I or the crackle of frozen snow, Jl-or a step that setteth my heart allow, Kor voice whose music too well I know, As my lady comes through th3 snow. A WOOING BY MtOYY. She is loaning back in a deop crimson chair, with a white dresn sweopiug ill long shilling Colds about hor. Sho is talking to two or three men with that rather weary graco ho hat* grown nocnsiomed lo seo in her. and which is no dif fsreut from tho joyous smiles of tho Joanne do Beaujen whom ho loved so Ion# ago. He is watching hor from tho oppositu side of the nalou a! ho stands bosido his hostess, and he tolls himself that it is for the last time. He is going to her presently, and ho knows just how coldly sho will raise the dark eyes that onco never met his without confessing that sho loved liim. lie knows just what he will say aud what sli3 will answer, and thero is no need for haste in this last see no of his tragedy. "A man should kuow when he is beaten," he is thinking,while he smiles vaguely in reply to Madamo Do Soule's commonplaces. "There is more stupidity than courage in not accept ing a defoat whilo there is yet time to retreat with some dignity, l'or six weok* I have shown hor, with a diroctuoss that has, I darn say. been amusing to our mutual friends, that after ton years' absence my only object in re turning to Paris is hor society. ,Sho cannot ayoid meeting mo in public, but alio has stcad ils rofusod to receive mo when I call upon ber, or to permit me a word with hor alone. I havo been a fool to forget that all these years la which I havo regretted her, she has u'atur ally despised me, luc at lonst it is not just of lier to refuso me a hearing." The moment ho hu been waiting for is come. Tho little court about her disporses. until there is but one man beside her, aud she glances around with a look of mild appeal against tho continuance of his society. £e Palissier has escaped from his hostess in au instant, and the next ho is murmuring, with the faintest suspicion of a tremor in his voice, •'Will Madamo de Miramon permit me a dance?" "Thanks, it do Palissier, but lam not danc ing this evening," she replios, with exactly the glance and torio he expects. "Will mad&me givo mo a fow moments sorious conversation?" and this time the tremor is distinct, for oven the nineteenth century horror of melodrama can not koi*j a man's nerves quito stoady whon he is asking a question on which his whole future depomls. "One doos not come to balls for serious con versation—" she begins lightly. "Where may 1 come, then?" ho interrupts, eagerly. "Nowhere. Thoro is no noed for sorious (Malversation between us, M. do l'alissier," Mho replies, haughtily, and rising, she takes the arm of tho much-edified gentlemau besido hor, and moves away. It is all ho has prophesied to himself, and yet for a moment tho lights uwim dizzily be fore him. and the passionate sweetness of that Strauss wait/, tho band is playing, stabs his heart liko a knifo. I'or a moment lie does not loaliza that ho is standing quite motionless, gazing, with despair ill his oyes, after Madame de Miramon's slendor whiic-clad iigure, and that two or three peonle, who havo sueu and heard, arc looking at him with that amused pity which sontimental catastrophe always in spires in tho spectators. Some ono touches his arm presently with her fan. and with a Htart he comes to himself, and recognizes Lncillo de Beanjtm, the voting sistor of Madam do Miramon, whom he re members years ago as a child, and with whom he has dati' ol si-vcral times this winter. •'And our waliz, monsieur?" siio asks gayly. "Do not tell mo you havo forgotten it. 1'hat "is evident enough, but you should not admit it." "Mille pardons, mndamoisolle," ho mutters, hurriedly. •'1 am "very good to-night," sho says, putting hor hand o:i his moeoahicallv extended arm. "Though the waltz is half over, there is stili time for you to get me an ico." So tlioy make their way through the salon, she talking lightly, and without pausing for a r« lilv, while he, vaguely grateful to her for ex tricating him from an awkward poMiion, won ders also that sho should care to bo so kind to a mau whom hor sister has treated with such marked dislike. Tho refreshment room is Til:no-t empty, and she soats herself aud motions liiin to a chair beside ber whon ho has brought her an ine. "Do you think, M. le Marquis, that it was only to oat ices with you that 1 Iihvm forced mv sooiety so resolutely upon you?" she asks, with a look of earnejtnoss very rare on hor bright coquettish face. "I think you an angel of compassion to an old friend of your childhood, Mademoiselle Lucille—" "It waa compassion, but nioro for my sister than for you," sho says gravely. "Your sister!" ho echoes, bitterly, "It has not occurred to mo that Madamo de Miramon is in need of compassion, and yoltrs is too sweet to bo wasted—" "Chut, monsieur," she interrupted. "For got that I am as fond of pretty speeches as most young wrnion, and think of me only as Jeanne de Alirttuioii's sister, who uolievos that much as alio loves hor, yon love her oveu luoro— For the second time this evening Do Talis aier forgot a possible observers, aud clasps loth tho gir.'s slender hand* in iiij, as he murmurs unsteadily, "God bless you!" "You foraot that wo havo an audience, tnnn sier,"' she savs. withdrawing her hands quick! v, hut with a sniilo of frank comradeship. "1 have a sturv to tsll you, and not much tinio to tell it in. Years ago. when Joanna left her convent oti becoming ti.vaceo to M. de Miramon. she met yon at her lirst lull, and you loved each other. It w.is very foolish, for yoil were a cadet of your hous", and only a sout- lieutoimiit, and •leanno had 11 it a soil, so both tho fatnil wero furious Inr all would havo onded well as a fairy talo if you had 1/jen rcasonabio. Jeanne met you tune after time in scoret. and promised any tvi nint of patience, but sho would not run away and marry you in 'tiatice of her parents so you tormented her with doubis, and shamed her ith suspicions until sho rlro.idotl those secret mooting* almost as much «s sho longrd for them. At last, after •nuking a more violent quarrel than usual, yt osolmng^d from y.mr regiment at Ye:s.ii!Io Jo one in Alti -rs, and left her no refuge from tho reproaches uf .nr lather and motner but marry M. de Kirunioi'. He might havo re fused lo marry her after hearing hor confess, ns she did, that she had ^iven her heart to you, aud that ou!y jour dosertiou had iuduced her to consent to their marriage. Hut he did not, lie had a better revenge than that. He married lier, and for tight yeirs he torture 1 her iu overy way that jealous and cruel man can torment a proud, pure woman. Ho opened all her letters, ho mado spies of her servants, and not a day passsd thut he did not insult her with some mention of ymir name. Our parents died w.thin a few months of the marriage, aud 1 Mas at tho conveut. There was nothing to bo dimo with her misery tut endure it, knowing that sho owi i» all to j-our impatienco. Can you wonder that sho is uuforgiviug?" llo is lc&oinz on tho small tablo between thorn with folded arms and down-bout eves, aud he is very pale, even through the bronze of ten African summers. "I loved her always—" be says, almost in andtbly then pauses nor does he finish his aentenco, though she waita for him to do so. "You loved her? Yon could not have wrecked her life more utterly if you had hated her. Can yon woader that sho has grown to tear the thongbt of love that ha9 been so oruel her as your's and ber husband's? Monsieur, niy brothcir-iu-law died two years ago—God is so good!" continues Locilie, fiercely, "Since thou Jeanue has been at peace, and she shrinks vitb absolute (error from disturbing the calm which tuw come to her aftor each storms. She fears you, sho avoids you, because—shall I tell you why?" Sho can seo his lips quiver even under tho heavy mustache, but ho neither speaks nor raises his eyes. "Bho lovos you," murmurs Lucillo, just aloud. Ho lifts his eyes now and looks at hor dumbly,for an instant then, rising, abruptly walks away. "II a des beaux yeux mou Dion!" she thinks, with a thrill of wonder that Jeanne should have had tho courage to refuso biai anything in tho days whou thoy were vouug to gether. Ho comes back presohtly. "My child," bo says, very gontly, "do not try to malce mo believe that, unless von are very sure, for if I onco beliova it again,"I—I—" "I am as suro as that I live that Jeanne has never ceased to lovo you, and that you can force her to confess it if you will make "lovo io me." "I? You? You are laughing at mo!" with a rush of color into his dark face. "Do you think so ill of Jeanne's sister?" sho asks softly. '•Pardon. I am scarcely myself, and I can not imagine how—" "Jeanno will not receivo j-ou because slio knows her own heart and is afraid of it Sho foars that you will destroy the hard-won peace sho values so highly. But you are wealthy, distinguished, tho head of your name—a very different person from what you wore ton years ago, and slio can find no reason for refusing you as my suitor if I consent, and as my chap eron sho must bo present at all our meetings. You begin to understand? Mako hor soo that your love is not all jealousy mako hor remem ber—make her regret." "I)Ut,'forgivejiiio, whon ono has lovod a wom an for ton years," with a faint smilo "there is no room in ono's heart for even a protouso at loving another." "If thoro wore, monsieur, I should novor havo proposed my plot," sho replies with dignity. "It is because I havo watched you all these weeks and kuow that your love is worthy of my sistor, that I trnst'you. But it is not with one's hoart that one pretends. 12u lin, it is with you to consont or decliue." "Decline!" he echoes, with a passion none tho less intenso for its quietness. "Doos a dy ing man decliue his last clianco of life, how over dosporato it may bo?" Tho next week is full of bitter surprises to the proud and patient woman, whoso pathetio cling to hor now fouud peace Lucille so woli understands. Though it is long sinco she lias permitted horself to remember anything of tho lovor of her youth except his jaalousy, sho has believed in his faithfulness as utterlj- as sho dreamed it, and when she receives Do I'alisser'a noto asking tho cousout. of his old frioud to liis love for hor sistor, tho pain sho feola bewilders and dismays her. Witu a smilo whose cynicism is as much for herself as for him, she gives tho noto to Lucille expecting an instant rejection of the man whoso motives in pursuing them thoy had both so misunder stood. ISut with a gay laugh, '•Then my sym pathy has been all without cause,'' tlia girl cries. Hy nil means let him come, my Jeauno. It cannot wound you, who havo long ago ceased to regret him aud ho is the best parti in Paris, and tres bel homme for his age. It is quite true there can he no objection to tlio wealthy and distinguished Marquis de Pal issier if Lucille is willing—uotto but tho pain at her hoart which she is too ashamed even to confess to herself. So a note is written fixing an hour for his first visit, and Madamo do Miramon prepares herself to meot the man whom she last saw alone in all the passionate anguish of a lovors' quarrol. Is "this wild flutter in her throat a sign of the reaco sho bas resolved to possess? Thank God' sho can at Ieaet promise herself that whatever sho inay suffer, neither ho lior Lucillo shall guess it. Thoro is tlio sound of wheels in tho court yard and she risos with a hasty glauce at hor fair reflection in tho mirror. "His old friend!" she murmurs scornfully. "I dare say I look an old woman besido Lu cillo." Then sho turns with a look of graceful wel come, for tho door is thrown open, and a servant announces: "M. le Marquise do Paliss:or.'' "Nothing could give me greater plcasuro tlinu to receive as my sister's suitor tho old friend of whom tho world tolls m» such noble things." Sho uttors her little speech as natur ally as though slio had not rehearsed it a dozen tim&J, and h( Ids out her proltj- hand to liiin. To hor surprise ho does not take it. How should iihe guoss that ho dares not tru^t him self to touch calmly tho band ho would havo risked iiifl life to kiss nnv time these ten j-ears? "You are too good, Mtdaiao," he replies very low and she reflects that ho is of course a littlo embarrassed. "I am afraid you had much to forgive in thoso days so long ago, hut timo, I trust, has chaugcd me." "It would lo sad indeed if time did not give ns wisdom aud coldness in exjhango for aH it takes from us," she says, witii a quick thrill of paiti that he should speak of ten years as if it were an eteruity. "Not coldness," Lo e::c'aims, coming r.osror, and looking at her witu t-yes that mal.o hurfeal a girl again. "If you could aeo my heart, j-ou—" "May I enter, mv sister?" n*) 9 tho gav voice of Lucille, as she appears from behind the por tiere at so fortunate moment for tho success of her plot that it is to be feared she had been evesdropoing. Do Palissier turns at oneo and presses her hand to his li"s. "Mademoiselle," ho says, tendorly, "1 arn at your feet." Then begins a charming lift In entnedy of Iovo-makintr. in which Lucilie plays hor role with pretty coquetry, and ho with infinite Z'-al. And tho chaperon bends over hor lac'! work and hoars tho caressing tones sho thought she htul forgotten, and ^oes the tender glnncos sho imagined she had ceased to regret —ill given to lior yomii sister in her unregarded presence. How is sho to kt—p the poaoa slin so prayed for. if her fnture is to b-3 haunted by this"ghost from tho past? Sh( is very patient and used to suffering, but at length she can on duro no longer, aud not daring to leave tbo oom, sho moves away to adistint writing-table where she is at least boj-onti hearing. Thero is an insta-it pause lotw-en the con spirators. and while do Palissier's eves wist fully follow Madame do Miramon, Lucille seiz' js her opportunity witu a promptness that would liavo done credit to a Hicheliou or a Tal leyrand, or any other priuco of scheme I'm. "•'Courage, monsieur!" she murmurs. "Slio has been cold to ine ever since j'oor note c»ine. You would make a eharmitic jsutio premier at the Franeais, only when you do say anything very tender, do r.HUuniber lo look' at me in stead of Jeanne." And sho breaks into a latich so utterly amused that he presently laughs too, anil tho sound of their mirth causes an odd blot in the poor ohaporon's writing. A month has dragged by wretchedly enough, both to the conspirators aud th^ir victim, anil, liko all thincs earthly, has oome to an end at last. Even Lucillu's energ.v could not keep de Palissier to his rol", if ho did not believe that in surrendering it ho must give up the bitter swoetof Jeanne's daily presence, which, oven in its Borono indifference had become the one charm of life to him. -Madam de Miramon aud iif sister are speudinga week at her villa noar Paris, and do Palissier, who is to accompany thorn on a riding party, has arrived a little late, and finds both sisters already in tho court yard, with some horses and grooms, whon he outers. Lucillo comes to him atoncn as ho dismounts, with a look of alarm instead of her usti-il coqustry. "Do uot let jeanno rida Etoil«," nh« siid anxiously. She has thrown Gnillaume this morning."" Madamo de Miramon is standing beside an oldtsrooin who is holding the liorso in question aud she docs not look at hor sutor or De Palisd as they approach. "Let me ride Etoil and tako my horso to day, madamo," de Palissier says eagorlv. "I should like jo master a h'-rso who has tbrowu so excellent a groom as (hlillauuio."' "So should I," she says, with a hard little laugh, and slio step* ou tho block. '•Joanne!" cries Lucille. "1 entreat you for your sister's sake. She wiil bo tarribiy alarmed," da Palissier says, hurriedly. Then you must console her. Ilia creator her alarm, tho greater your delightful task, mousicur, 'anil she looks at him with a deli ant pain in hor eyes like a stag's at bay. "I shall ri'h» Etoilo." "Thon I say that von shall not." he answers, rutting his arm across the saddle, and meet ing her eyes with a sudden blazo in his. For an instant they gaze at each other iu utter forgetfulnoss of auy other presenc® than their own then sho springs from tho block and comes clo«e to hint. "I bate you!" sho gasps, and, taming, gathers up hor habit in ouo hand and runs Into tho bouse, swiftly followed by do Palis sier. In the salon she faces him with a gestmo of passionate pride. "Leave me!", she says. "I forbid yoa to speak to me." He is very pale, bnt the light of triumph is in his eyes, aud, like most mej, being trium phant, he is crueL "Why do yoa hate me," lie asked, impe riously. "1 bog TOUT pardon," alie stammers, dropping tho eyes which she known are botrayiug hor. "1 should havo said— "You should havo said, 'I lovo you,'" ho murmurs, coming closo to her and holding out his arms. "Doos it hurt you that I should know it at last, I who have lovod you all thoso years?" "But Lucille," she falters, moving away from him, but with cvos that shine and lips that quiver with bewildered joy. "Never mind Lucille," cries that young lady very cheerfully from the doorwaj*. "It has been all a plot for your happiness, my Jeanne, which would never have succeeded if yoa had known your sister as well as she knew yoa. To think that I would bo content with the wreck of any man's heart!—fidonc! Whon my day comes, "Liko Alexander, I will roigu, And I will reign alone." J'LAVINCi SCHOOL, Ding dong! Dolly school is hi, llark! the lessons now begin: Keep all the puuils there— Dollies nice aud neat and fair. Fat aud lean, short and ta'.l. In a row at'ainat the wall. Lots of little teachers, too. Come to show them what to do. "Now, Mif,» Wax, turn out your toes# Tell us how you unoiled your nose. Miss Itacr, pray for once sit straight: How came you to be so late? Do, Miss Cliina, sit down, dear Papa dolls, don't act so queer. Ono when squeezed could say, 'Maw-ma. Smartest id tho class, by far. Sonw will graduate next fall Others are almost too small. Does your dolly ever ko? Terms are very cheat), you know. Better take her there at once, Who would want a doll a dunce? "Time is up!" the teachers shout: Dinft dong! Dolly-school is out. THE SONG Oif' GOLD JI1CA1. The littlo Gold Head waa so "put out," Though none hut herself knew what about. That she stood ou the door-steps a while to pout- Oh, (jreeily little Gold Head! "I had one tart, but I wanted two. So I'll run away—that's what i'll do!" And she found While-wool in the meadow dew Cropping the clover red. Tho two were friends, and glad to meet. She cried "Nan-na:i, is the clover sweet? And can you have all you want to eat?" "Ba-a, b.i-a-a!" he said. TALES rOK*TOI)DLEJtS. Tambourine Don. Tliero was a sound of mueic under the win dow. Two little children were looking out their littlo noses wore pressed against the glass. "He is a dirty boy," said Jennie, looking at the playor. "Very, very dirty," said Dais}-. "I wouder if ho has a mothor." "Opon tho window and ask him." Tho window would not open. Daisy took papa's cane to push with. Jennie pushed too. Away went tho cane through the glass. It fell down on the sidewalk. The little girls begau to cry. The tam bonrine player looked up aud saw the littlo facos. Ho picked up the cane and ran up the steps. Tho servant opened the door. She said: "Got out no beggars allowed at tho front door." "I am not a beggar soe the cane." "How did j'ou get master's cane?" "It fell. Tho little girls know." "Oh, lot him iu'" called Daisy. "Come up, you nice littlo boy," said Jennie. "Well, well, those children are always in mischief," added the servant. Tho boy went up stairs. Ho had never seen such a fiuo house. "What is your uamo?" askou thesorvant. "It is Don." "Have you a father?" said Daisy "No, miss, he is Ions dead." "Where do you iivo?" "In Boston," miss." "Yon don't look liko a Boston boy." "I camo from Italy, over tho sea." Then Daisy looked sharply at him. Jennie put her hand on his arm. It was so strango to soe a littlo boy from over the sea. When their mamma came homo Don was tliero. The little giris sat on tlio sofa lookiug at liim. The nurse and the cook wore thoro too. Don played tho tambourino for thom. Tlio tuuos were very queer. Daisy's mother said ho was a good boy to return the cane it cost a great deal of money. She was very kind to Don. Every Saturday he goes to the house and works for tho lady. Sho paj-s him money, so he can buy shoes. Whon the children seo him coming they saj*, "Ob, here coaies our Tambourine Don!" Mollie and the Sparrows. It was snowing very bar J. The white flakes camo tumbling down as though they wore in a hurry to get there. The wind blow, and tbo air was very cold. But little Mollie did not care for tho cold. She sat ou tho rug bj* tho firo playiug with her kitten. Mamma sat. oloso beside hor knitting, aud Mollie felt very warm aud comfortable. Protty soon she hoard a chirpintr. She ran to the window and lookod out." Ou tho rose frame, by tho piazza, sat six pretty birds. Thoy looked right mat the window at Moilio and did not seem at all afraid. Their feathers were rtTftb'd by the wind. They drew up first one foot thoti tho other under them, as it trying to get thom warm. "Cheep, cheep, cheep," chirped the sparrows, looking at Mollie. "Dear liitie birdies!" said Mollie. "May they come in and get warm, mamma?" "Their pretty feathers keep the cold out, but thev are hungry," said mamma. "May I feed them, mamma?" "Yes, Moilio run aud get a piece of bread." Moilio soon brought the bread, which she broke up into small bits. Then mamma raised tho window softly and threw out tho crumbs. The birds all 11kw awaj'. "Keep very still, Mollie," sai:l raamma "they wiil soou como back." Mollie stood by the window as still as little mouso. Soou the suarrows camo flying back. They looked first at the bread, then at Mollie. Finally thej' decided to cat their suppor. So they flew ou tho piazza and began picking up the crumbs very fast Mollie clapped lier hands, but they were too buugrv to hear her. When thoy had eaten all the crumbs, they wero tired. Thon ther wont to sleep on tho rose-frame with their heads undor their wings. Mollie fed them every day until tho snow was gone and there was plenty for thom to eat. Honor to Whom Honor Is Dae. Under the above caption William J. Onahau writes to tho Chicago Citizen relative to a re ported interview with Miss Charlotte G. O'Brien, published in tho New York Sun, in which the lady is made to saj° that tho writer (Onahan) "worked tho colonization schemes for Bishop Ireland" Onahan disclaims auy such credit and says all honor is due the late Dillou O'lirien, of this city, whose noble share in the work wat eloqueutly told by Bishop Ire land iu O'Brien's funoral sermon. The writer concludes: The Irish race in America owe to the memory of Dillon O'iJrieo a deeper veueratiorf and a larger debt of gratitude thau is perhaps generally realized. Loyal to every duty of rrhcioti aod patriotism un selfish aud disinterested, he devoted the best years of his useful life to promoto the welfare and elevation of that race, and through tho kindred agencies of "temper ance" and "colonization" he believed the greatest results could be effected for the permanent U«od of the Irish peoole. If during his lifetime, his talents and labors were not more widely recog nized and appreciated by bis countrymen, the State of Minnesota at all events furnishes the testimony to the high character of the one and the great value of the other. His name will lone remain a "house bold word" in many a prosperous Irish farmer's home on the prairies of that State, and the people of St. Paul will not soon foreetthe memory of tho honest, genial, si ogle-hearted, and gifted Dillon O'Uriea. Handicapping Boats. Speakiug of handicapping boats as a moaus of biiuging good and bad sailors together and hns opnlariziug yachting, tho London Field says: "To regulate the varying meritf of the small class of boats, handicaps have been pro posed. but tho dislike which yacht owners, young or old, have to handicaps appears likely to frustrate all attempts to introduce them. The Itoyal Portsmouth Corinthian Yacht club, with an excelleut meaning, ha,o striven hard to make boat sailing popular by means of liaudicaps, and tbeir attempt has failed iu the most crushing manner. This club made the initial mistake of making handicaps tho dominant feature instead of a subsidiary means of providing sport the iuevitabl* result was that men would not build new boats for handicaps, ami the owners of the mediocrities soon discovered that the com mittee could not so handicap the good boats as to allow slow boats to win. The end of this has been that, although the clab has a large number of resident members, none of them follow their proclivities for boat sailing by building, as the system of the handicapping has taken away all zest or emulation for own ing a fast and weathcrly boat.'' vi:xj J. :oi iiLi s. '11,re. carpets hu'ia wavini: in tlm breeze, Abroad iu the breeze as the »un went down And lire' husbands, wiih pitches ot dirt on tholr knees. Whacked whacks that were heard tor miles up und down. For men must work and womer. must clean. And the carpets be beaten, no matter how mean, While the neighbors do the bossing. Three housewives leaned out of their windows raised— Of their windows raised, whore the light streamed in And they scrubbed and scrubbed, till their heads grew dazed, And their ears were filled with a horrible din. For the pots will fall, and the kettles go bang, And boilers refuse in tho attic to hang. While the husbands do the swearing. Throe husbands went out in the haymows to hide In the haymows to hide, where their wives ne'er looked. Each said, as he rolled himself o'er on his side, "I guess I will snooze, (or I know 1 am booked. For men inar swear, but women may dust: And before I movo that stove that I must I'll stay rigbt here till morning!" Three judges sat on their benches to judge Three cases that came from a house-cleaning row. The parties asserted they never would budge. But wauted divorces "right here and right now." So the men went off, and the women went home. And hereafter will do their house-cleaning alone, While their former partners snicker, HOME AND HOUSEHOLD. Christmas Presents. From this time forward until Christmas is over more or less attention must be given to tho subjects of the gifts we mako. I waa an iuterosted listener to a conversation which took place in a large store in a Western city last year. "Yes, it is hard," said one of tho pro prietors to two ladies,whose sealskins and dia monds denoted lives of what we might safely call comparative ease—"it is hard. Still, if you begin in time, and whon you see what you wish, take it then, not waiting to be hurried or confused, why, you will got through the season quite comfortably." This really excellent ad vice may be appropriated by those of us who will not bo able this year to givo tho dear ones in our homes the costlj' treasures of art, tho books and pictures, and enticing bric-a-brac their souls and ours delight in—those of as who must confine the expressions of our love to tho modest gifts of singlo volames.of pock et handkerchiefs, and of trifles light as air, and jet weighed dowu with good wishes. Apropos of handkerchiefs, a gift to be appreciated by almost any gentleman is that of from one to a box of delicately fine ones, with a 'cute little picture in outline-stitch worked in a corner. The patterns for these pictures can be bought at auy fancy store, and the materials for working. A more ambitious and expensive present is a large willow chair —not a rocking chair—but with deep, wide seat and high back and arms. This may be gilded or bronzed, with a shoulder cushion and a cushion for the seat made of "crazy" patch work. Or it may be covered with two colors only. Divide the covering diagonally through the center, having part of it a yellowish car dinal, or terra cotta with blue is very band some and those covers may be of any mat* rial to suit the length of your parse The shoulder cushion should reach across the chair but not be wider than is neoded to comfortably rest the shoulder against it tio it to the frame of the chair with ribbon bows matching the covering. To Cook Beefsteak. Tho first requirement is not so much a ton der and juicy steak, though this is always to be devoutly desired, but a glowing bed of coats, a wire gridiron, a stout one, with good-sized wires, a double one, so that you can turn the steak without touching it Tho steak should not bo pounded, only in extreme cases, when it is cut too thick and is "etiingy." Attempt nothing else when coeking the steak havo everything else roady fcr the table tho pota toes aud vegetables all in their respective dishes ia tho warming-closet or oven, with the door left open a little way. From ton minutes onward is needed to cook the steak. Tho time must depend on tho sizo, and you can easily tell by tho color of the gravy which runs from tho steak, when gently pressed with a knifo, as to its condition. If the master of the house likes it 'rare done," when there is a suspicion of brown gravy with the red, it will bo safe to infer that it is done enough for him: if, as is generally the case, the next stage is the favorite one, remove the steak from the grid iron tho instant the gravy is wholly of a light brown. Itcmove it to a hot platter, pepper and salt it to suit your taste, put on small lumps of butter, and then for two "brief moments cover it with a hot plato, the two moments being suf ficient to casry it to the tabio. Ono absolutely essential factor in tho preparation of a good beefsteak is that it must bo served at once. Gossip from the Table, Fashionable dinner tables are lighted by candelabra on each sido of the conter-piece, or occasionally by a central cluster of branch lights, which surmouut a pair of vases, all springing from the samo bass. Usually the foundation is a mirror and the support the figure of a child or mj-thological subject Glasses for wines should indicate by shape or color the kind for which they are intended. Thus, a red glass is suitable for white wine greon for various kiuds of Bhino wine, while white of small size signifies sherry. Claret glasses are larger than port glasses, while those for champagne aro thin in the stem and of wide brim. Much amusement is derived at some popular dinners from tbo cards which indicate the scats of guests. Thoy are of endless variety, are often printed expressly to order, and contain witty allusions or satirical pictures. The newest are mounted upon ribbons of bright colors, about three inches wid3, which are fringed out at the edges, and upon the center of which a painting is either executed upon the material itself or upon tinted card. For a recent rarewell bachelor dinner, on tho evo of a wedding, such cards, made expressly to order by Tiffany, each one being reserved for a special gaost as memento of the occa sion. cost $3 apiece. For huutiug dinner floral decorations assume characteristic shapes, and a rabbit, hare or game of some kind appears in emblematic form upon the table. Beautiful little baskets are now in fashion as liqueur stands. Each contains four bottles, while around the edges of the basketare twelve little books from which depend small square shaped glasses. Usually bottles and stoppers are of different colors, while tho little glasses correspond by having handles unlike the body of the glass. Brandy and bitters are served in fashionable quarters upon a littlo tray of exquisite Bohe mian glass. The set consists of large and small bottles, sugar bowl and two or three tumblers. Coffee ie presented to. guests after dinner in the reception room upon a revolving trav. In this, the latest style, a littlo uru is in tho cen ter, from which tho coffee is to be poured, and the sots imported from Mintou are provided with six, eight or twelve enps, creata jug, milk pitcher aud sugar bowL Upon the same principle 12 o'clock breakfast and 4 o'clock tea are served in boudoirs upon revolving tables. Sets of china are made which serve either purpose, being provided with toast rack and muffin dish for use in the morning, while if iutonded for afternoon tea these articles are removed. The tables for these sets are in Queen Anne stylo, aud tho muffin dish fits into a round holo beneath the tea tray. Such sets of china com prise the requisite number of cups, a tea-pot, a tea-kettle (both in china), cream jug, milk pitcher and sugar bowL By thoir uso the at tendance of a servant is dispensed with. Uni versally popular in the best society in England, they are becoming somewhat general here and in SYashington. Novel napkin rings are made of flowers, wired into shape and placed upon the semette. Although thoy serve no useful purpose, they are ornamental. The newest ice-cream elates are of Bohe mian glass, with little handles. The shape is something between an oval and a square. Others are in china, cream-colored groand, with gilt edges, in shape like a full-sized grape leaf. Singlo vases for each guest are no longer so popular as they were for dinner tables. The more fashionable style to-day is a central globe, either of deeply cut crystal or Bohemian ian glass, which rests upon a polished mirror. Some of thoso globes are mounted noon deep crystal trays, thus providing a second recepta cle for the flowers. Four corner pieces are sold with he globes, either for a continuous design around the center or for the enda of the table. In spite of the attempt to introduce color into table -clcth, preference in the highest cir cles is still given to fine white damask, but occasionally the cloths are trimmed with lace edging Ejquisits dessert plates are k» the rich eat Dresden china, with deep-toned csater^ 1 and open-worked edges. The designs are so beautiful that doylies are not used with them. Very pi^tty pieces of glass are now in the leading stores for "odd" piecos on a dinner table. They a."e in Sevres glass, amber or blue in color, and are enameled in raised designs or gilt in relief. The shapes are specially novel aud attarctive. For gentlemen's dinner parties menu cards painted by hand aro in voguo, representing somo very realistic part of the preparations for the entertainment.. Upon one tho cook in cap and aprou is tossing a pancake, on another the butler bas just drawn a cork, and so on through the series. For ordinary dinners menu cards are upon tinted bristol board, and tho latest style is to have a vignette on one corner, date and place of entertainment occu pying the other. This is ou single cards, but thoso referred to above are double, and are in tended to be laid opposite the plate of the guest Some very fashionable people dispense with flowers at the dinner table entirely. In fact, they are altogether less in favor for festive oc casions than they wore probably because thej' are so much iu request at interments. Klegant Frames. Elegant frames Tor the bevelled mirrors so much in vogue just now are made of velvet or plush. A beautiful ono recently made for a wedding gift was of crimson velvet. The glass was to be hung diagonally, and at the lower corner was a bouquet—if so simple an arrange ment of flowers could bo called a bouquet—of one rose and four buds and a few leaves these wero embroidered with ribbon and chenille, and so gracefully were tbejr placed there that the effect was as if they had just been gathored and dropped there. "Another very handsome frame is covered with shaded olive plush, with ilelicato sprays of arbutus embroidered with chenille and 'fcillt on it. The ombroiderj* on these frames, which are so lovely without decoration, is noticeably simple, "but it is wrought with such delicacy and such fidelity to nature that it moy well "be called a work of art Kitchen Keramlcs. If the Thanksgiving turkey was stuffed in the orthodox and old-time way, variety may be given to the Christmas turkey by making the dressing after these directions, which no cook can read without applauding For a turkey weighing from eight to ten pounds, allow one loaf of stale baker's bread, ono quart of oys ters, one lemon, two roots of celerj-, and one quarter of a pound of butter. It is taken for granted that the turkey is thoroughly cleaned and wiped dry before putting tho stuffing in. Crumblo tho bread till very fine, season with pepper and salt Drain the oysters, setting the liquor aside. Now take a very sharp knife and peel off the outer rind of the'lemon, being careful not to have any of the bitter and tough white skin left on cut the peel in very small bits chop the white part of the celery very fine, adding the butter and the juice of the lemon mix the ingredients men tioned, stirring until thoroughly mixed then proceed to stuff body and crop. A turkey of the size spoken of requires at least two hours' baking, aiid it should be basted frequently the liquor of the oysters should be put in the pan when the pan is first set in the oven, and this is to be used in basting. The giblets and liver should be chopped very fine, and be cooked in a basin on the top of the stove, and then when the gravy is made add them to it Pare smoothly half a dozen good-Bized tart apples, scoop out the cores boil the apples in sugar and water until they are soft euough to be pierced with a broom-splint, but be careful to have them keep tbeir shape. When j-ou cut out the cores, cat out a little less than one third of the apple, separate it from the core, and after stowing it, mix it with some cold boiled rice, the yolks of two eggs, sugar and spice to suit your taste. When the apples are done, fill the centers of the apples with the rice, eta beat the whites of the" two eggs to a stiff froth, adding tho two tablespoonfuls of powdered sugar as you beat them put a spoon ful of this ou the top of eaoh appie, aud soud to the table. These are delicious, either warm or cold Hore is a recipe for a "hard times pudding:" Haif a pint of molasses, half a pint of water, two teaspoonfuls of soda, one teaspoonful of salt. Thicken with flour enough to make a batter about like that for a cup-cake. Put this in a pudding-bag, or a pudding-boiler allow room to rise. It would be safe to havo the pudding-fcag about half full of tho batter. Let this boil steadily for three hours. Sauce to serve with it is made thus: Mix two tea spoonfuls of either white or brown sugar with a lump of butter the size of a butt3rnut: a lit tle salt, and one largo spoonful of flour "should be mixed with the butter and sugar. When free from lumps pour boiling water slowly over it, stirring all the time. Lit it boil up once or twice to make it of the desired thick ness. Coffee-cakes for breakfast are mado by beat ing three eggs very light, aud adding two cups of brown sugar, one cup of butter, one cup of sweet milk, cue teaspoonful of soda, two tea spoonfuls of cream of tartar, or, if you prefer, use two heaping teaspoonfuls of baking pow der the cakes aro uot so likoly to dry soon if tbo soda and cream of tartar are used. Make a stiff dough bv kneading in sifted fiour, then roll it out to about half an inch in tliicknoss, sift ground cinnamon and a littlo powdered sugar over it, roll it up as if for jelly-rolis, and cut off slices half an inch thick, dip in granu lated sugar, and b&ke iu a tin whicu you have first buttered weil and theu scattered flour over. A good plain fruit pudding is made of one cup of sugar, half a cup of butter, and two eggs". Beat thom ail together, theu add a cup of sour milk, one teaspoonful of soda dissolved in hot water and stirred iu the milk, three cups of flour, and oue cup of raisins add spice to suit your taste a littlo maco is a favorite flavoring with some cooks for this pudding. Put in a pudding dish and steam for two hours. Servo with wine sauce or with ordinary pudding sauce. Take pains to leave no lumps of flour in the batter. If simple and commonpiace dishes aro made with care they are often more acceptable than many more elaborate dishes care lessly thrown down together. A unique ornament for the cornor of a room is made by procuring a well seasoned board, about three foet aud a half long and eighteen inches wide. This is to be covered with dove colored felt, on which ie embroidered in crew eils a bunch of cat tails and grasses. The effect to be sought in arranging the group is that of their being laid upon the board when freshly gathered. There'must be no stiffness iu the arrangement tbo grasses and weeds must be of unequal lengths, some of them reaching quito to the top of the board, and all uniting at the bottom as if dropped from tho band. This may be placed in any graceful position in the corner of the room. Indian-meal crullers are good with coffee to mako them pour ouo and a half teacups of boiliug milk over two teacups of sifted Indian meal stir it vigorously when it is cool add two cups of wheat flour, one cup of buttor (or two-thirds of a cup if you do uot care to have them rich), ond cup aud a half of sugar, three eggs, two teaspoonfuls of bakiug puwuer miu a teaspoonful of nutmeg or citnamon. Let this ri60 till very light. If uot stiff euough to roll well, add equal quantities of meal and flour, roll out iu a sheet about half au inch th.ck, and cut iu small diamond-shaped cake?. Fry in very hot larii. Salmon served with, lobster sauce is consid ered delectable by tho epicure. If the salmon is fresh, boil it until it is tender, wrapping it in a cloth. If canned salmon is used, heat to the boiling point iu the can, then drain the oil from it, and pour the sauce over it. To make the sauce :To two tablespoonfuls of butter allow oue heaping one of flour. Stir them together till soft, then add a pint of a water or of stock if not too rich let it simmer gently. When tho sauce begins to whiten add two tablespoon fuls of lobster meat, picked vorv fine, pepper and salt, and lemon juice to taste? Buckwheat cakes with Indian meal added are recommended as a pleasant change from the plain buckwheat: To one pound of buck wheat flour allow half a pound of Indian meal (sift the m«al before weighing) before wetting them mix thoroughly together. ,One small cup of fresh, lively yeast should be r&ixed with wa ter. Make a batter of the usual consistency. Mix the batter about 9 o'clock in the eveniug place it where it will be warm enough to rise slowly. If too thick in the morning to drop easily from the spoon, thin the baiter with a little warm water. If too thin, stir in a Utile more buckwheat flour. There area great many times when a glue pot in the house is a "well-spring of pleasure," and is an economical investment, especially when of the kind here described: Buy at a tin shop one small tin cup, costing 5 cents, and a large one, costing aboat 10 cents, in which the smaller can be set 5 or cents' worth of glue will mend a great many broken ai licles or will fasten things that have become unglned. Pat the glue in the tmall cup with a little water put boiling water in the larger one and set the glue-cop in it in a few minutes the glue will melt and be ready for use. Do not pat soap in the water with which von waSh the glass on your bureau wash it with clear water with sef cloth then polish it with a piece of chamois skin. This rem&ves lint and makes th« glass shine. JUSTICE AND LOVH. From out a mystic cloud of deepest gloom, Upon a desert mountain's butting hight. Issued the awful voice of sovereign Might. From out the dimness of a human tomb. That fatal witness unto mortal's doom, Shone forth the rays of love that hath no night Liko snows when msntied in the icy light What time the arctic sunbeams o'er them loom, We see the scroll of Sinai's law unrolled But like tho dazzling clow of virgin gold, When orient rays salute it at their birth. Behold the flat of the holy dove— The merging of God's infinite law oneartU Iu God's eternal law of joy and love. FOB RELIGIOUS REFLECTION. Bceclier'i Strong Inclining to Evolution. New York Herald: Mr. Beecher, after reading his text yesterday morning, announced that tho sermon he was about to preach was the first of a series (not necessarily consecutive), tbo aim of which waa to show that what is called ad vanced theology among Christian laymen and ministers informs itself with the very inner most spirit and genius of sacred Scriptures. He proposed to do this for his own sake, that he might be heard for his church's sake, bccause there exists, he said, between every pastor and his people a kind of obligation of honor that they show know what it is that he believes and that he is teaching to them and their children. He would do it also for tho sake of a multitude of ministers tbat were perplexed in their beliefs that could not quito keep on in the old ways of theology, yet could not accept the new, and who therefore hang between all winds, going neither ono way nor the other. He did it also as a reply to those who say that Plymouth church and its Sistor have'wandered away from the truth. had seen letters asking whether h3 believed in tho immortality of tho soul, and letters were being sent to his friends to kuow whether he believed in a personal God. The fools, said Mr. Beecher, bitterly, not only seem to bo not all dead yet, but they seem to be multiplying. How long, he continued, angrily, must a man preach, how widely must a man's preaching be printed and distributed before men will un derstand the least thing of tbo substance of big doctrine and the testimony of his life? The text of his sermon, he said, might be summed up to menu this: Power is the test of theology. A theology tbat had no power upon bnman life aud human nature was not a Christian theology, and this was the test of all views that were new or advanced. A theologv that could do nothing for men was no better than idolatry. Paul excluded from his ministry all personal elements, eloquence, graces—all external things—and appeared alto gether to the moral consciousness of men. He determined to preach "only Christ and him crucified." He presented principally that view of God which was chiefly manifested in Christ Jesus—that is, of suffering love. Mr. Beecher cited numerous passages to show that Paul de pended upon the power that inhered in the sub stance of his teachings, upon the truths he preached, and not upon any embellishments they derived from his education or his philoso phy or bis poetic temperament The object of ail preaching was, first, to convince men of sin second, to convert men third, to change them from glory to glory as the saints of God and heirs of immortality, and then in the fullness of that nature making them the benefactors of mankind, the saviors of the human race. The advanced thinkers- with whom Mr. Beecher avowed himself in accord wero those who were in sympathy with the great ends that the church had always sought, but who insisted that thero are now better implemeuts with which to work than the fathers taught, just as there are now better implements with which to till tho soil, although the principles of agricul ture remain unchanged. He proceeded to in quire what was the view of the modern school upon the subject of tho sinfulness of man, ob serving that according to test if the modern doctrine did men good it would stand. Before Darwin was thought of Paul had been a Dar winian and taught that man was an animal, and that upon the animal thoro was superimposed a spiritual man. Paul was a seer, and had seized a conclusion which science was reaching only now. Mr. Beecher briefly out lined the doctrines of advanced scien tists on the subject of evolution as he understood them. If tho pedigree of a pine and an oak tree were to be traced step by step, the point at which they first diverged would be found in the mosses twenty genera tions back, aud so it was with the animal king dom. The teaching of the scientific school was that going back along the line of develop ment, they would reach on tho ever-diverging stem a point whero the man and the ape line were together, and that on the oue side the ape developed toward the left, growing more to muscle and bone while on the right, man di verged, growing afterward to brain and nervous system, and so on, diverging from the ape, but coming from something back of him. "You are not worthy of such an ancestor as the ape," said Mr. Beecher, "though many seem to return to that type." [Smiles.] Along tbat line man came upj "and thon under development of great natural laws re.son began to enlarge its sphere, aud then came tho affections, and tho sensibilities, and the moral sense. Mr. Beecher would not un dertake to say that all this was proved. It was hypothesis. "A hypothesis was simply a scien tific sagacious gue'ss, but if it answered all the difficulties that could be applied to it, then tho hypothesis was accepted as a truth. If one found a treo hewn down with an ax lying by it, aud footprints visible around the spot, he would be willing to swear tbat a man baa been there, but as he had not seen the man he could not prove it. and it would only bo hypothesis. "I say," continued Mr. Beecher, "that the theory of the development of man from tho lower life, while I do not say I absolutely believe it, I do say I very strongly incline to but I say that this evolution of man from the lower animals is just as consistent with the doctrine of God as manifested in creation as is the other and regnant theory. God creates but how? Did man unfold like the vegetable and the an imal and the very inorganic kingdom? Does he march with the analogies of all known things in God's creation? If be does it clears away a great many doubts and difficulties and shows a line that may become a great power for the conviction of sin in men than any other view that has been held." This question, the speaker said, which so agitated the scientific and moral world, was one that was presented in every household. When the babe was born it was nothing on earth but an animal, and a very poor Que. If it wero not for the potentialites we should see that the poorest thing on this oarth was that little bag of meat and bones which we c&il a baby. Aud yot the mou who rock the cradle of this problem all tho time were the first to exclaim, "What a horrible doctrino is this that Beecher is preaching now!"' If 1 taught tba* the world created man and that the world was God, said Mr. Beechor. that would be ono thing, but I dou't I say just in proportion as you study the miracle of birth and development the more evideut it becomes tbat there must be some thing more thau the physical globe. Because one doesn't believe tbat when a new soul is created God takes down a sonl from the sbelf, like an apothecary, and says, "Go down into that IkhIv," it does not follow that he is an atheist Tie"more the process of the unfolding of tha rose is studied the more impossible does athe ism become in my opinion. An architect com missioned to build a bouso may not put his own band upon the work. He sends for the mason and the carpenter and all the other ar tisans and instructs each to do a part Yet the architect builds tbat house. So God sends all manuer of laws here, there and elsewhere and they fulfill his will finally. Mr. Beecher ridiculed tho doctrine that be cause two inexperienced children placed in Eden and exposed to the temptation of a cun ning foe trangressed a law of God billions of men would be created by Him afterward, and tbat he should curse every one of tbem. For his own part, Mr. lieecher thought that the pair should" have been simply snanked and sent to bed, liko children who offend their parents. Or the doctrine of everlasting pun ishment, he said that reason calls upon a man to stand up, if he were to be damned for it, and saj: "1 won't believe any such thing." Not one minister in 500, he said,, sow dares to preach the doctrine of hell fully, as. it used to be preached, aud as it is laid down in tbeir books. Mr. Beecher denied that every trans gression of God's law is a sin. A thousaud times those laws were transgressed through ignorance. Generically he held that Bin con sisted in a man's permitting his lower animal appetites and passions to vswp the place of reason, the affections, and the moral sense. In a general way, sin was the conflict between The lower man and the spiritual man. Mr. Beecher upon this basis, argued that men could more readily he induced to reform their lives and put dowa their lower natures than by tbs old doctrine*. There were no delusions ia. this advanced preaching. When a preachcr told men that they were guilty of Adam's sin they laughed in his face, as 'they ought to. This new doctrine was going to throw a flosd of light upea. the methods ot God, and ww go'uK tc give a power to the preaching of tfcd gQ|$tt which it never bad before. Droppings from ths I Te», I'll await shy coming, Be it morning, neon or nighty-'t rf I will list with the heart of a watcher "Whose master may come in sight 'And the door shall be a'ways open, For fear that I, in my sleep, May wake too late to open it "When I hear my Master's feet. 8o I wait for the time I know not When my Master's work is dene I only know that he bids me "watch," Aod says, "I will surely corns." The whole amount contributed by th# churches of this country annually for benevo lent and congregational purposes is $106,« 962,000. Of this large sum the amount col lected for purely benevolent purposes is $31, 339,140. The amount contributed for oharcb purposes, meaning thereby the maintenance of the church, sustaining the ministry, eta, is $75,352,860. There are now between 300 and 400 Chris- J. t.ian schools in China, containing over 6,000 pupils. A Presbyterian lady missionary^ mentioning this phase of Christian work, claim*' that through the agency of these schools "b® fore many years, if the church be _faithful to her trust, the whole Chinese empire will 1)9 full of light." Father Marshall offered the installing prayer at Dr. Benjamin Wooster's settlement ut Fairfield, Vt. It is said that this petition oc-'. curred in the prayer: "O, Lord, bless Brother Wooster! Givo "him wisdom, give him dis-'_ cretion for, t) Lord, thou knowest he will take a sledgo hammer to knock a fly off a man's nose when a feather would do a great deal bet ter." A preacher, raising his eyes from his desk is the midst of his sermon, was paralyzed with amazement to see bis rude boy in the gallery pelting his hearers in the pews below witb horse chestnuts. But while the good maa was preparing a frown of reproof, the young hope* ful cried out: "You 'tend to your preaching, daddy I'll keep thom awdke!" A famous north country clergyman, whilst preaching a few Sundays since from the text, "He giveth his beloved sleep," stopped iu tha middle of the discourse, gazed upon his slum- boring congregation, and said: "Brethren, it is hard to realize the unbounded love which the Lord appears io have for a large portion cf my auditory." A Sabbath school teacher bad a class of littla girls, and was telling them how the heathen mothers throw their babies into the Ganges. "And what do you think they do that fori" shs asked a blight little girl of four years, who was intently listening. "O, I s'pose the mothers want to Bee little girl. The great evangelizing work among the TeleV goos of Southern India still continues. Mr„' Clough, the missionary of the Baptist onion, made two long preaching tours early in tbs year, and visited the newly-formed churches. In the first three years he baptised l.SOO por--^ sons. The Rev. Dr. Laurie, formerly missionary of the American board in Syria, recently read a paper before the ministers' meeting in Bos ton, in which he took the groand that ther#-' never was a wine tbat was not intoxicating known in Palestine^ An English essayist writes: "Hr. Moody's-* evangelistic campaign will not be forgotten while Scotland stands." He regards Mr. Moody's work in tbat country as one of tbs greatesttivents in the history of Christianity. Tbe Episcopalians of New York are movingf to raise a church-building fund of $1,000,000. Hon. Hamilton Fish, Cornelius Vanderbilt, P. S. Winston and other prominent men ara actively engaged in the effort Two native evangelists of Hawaii, who 1 if they can swim," answered th«' ars called the "Moody and Sankey of the Sandwich Islands," are preaching the gospel ia ths realms of Ealakaua with much success. The native Christians of Madagascar haw givon a $1,000,000 during the last ten years for the spread of the gospel. Acaln the False Prophet. A New York World letter from Alex andria says: The false prophet El Modhi, is the notorious slave dealer^ Hadji Zecky, who for the last twenty, five years has devastated the whole of Upper Egypt and the greater part of Barbary and Nubia, and who, notwithstanding tbe efforts of Sir Samuel Baker and CoL Gordon (Chinese Gordon) to capture him,, bas always contrived to escapa He is enormously wealthy, thoes who know bim saying tbat he is the richest man in Africa, while in cosrage aod cruelty he can hardly be surpassed. Born of Arabian parents of the Bedws tribe, he was taken prisoner when only a boyfc and was sold to a Barbarian sheik or chief, who was engaged in tbe slave trade on the Upper Nile. He Bocured bis liberty by murdering his master, and theu engaged in the slave trade himself, in which he was remarkably successful He visited village after village^ and even small cities, capturing all ths in habitants, carrying into bondage the young 6f both sexes, and allowing tho Haish to feast upon tho very young children and old Til lagers. He then made his victims carry any thing of value found their huts, and should there not be loads enough for ail his slavey he would go to tbe large fairs and bny .Tory, gums, gold dust, skins and other mer chandise with which to loal his s'a^es, and wbioh he sold at an enormous profit at Soukin and Messawha. It has been calculated that during the last five years he has destroyed over 2,000 villages and bas sold nearly 80,000 human beings to the only too ready purchasers who always frequent the African coast of the Bed Sea with tbeir dhows, whiclt they load with the men, women and children they buy. It must not be supposed that the false prophet is the only person engaged in this dreadful trade an "the contrary, ths kidnappers are very numerous and very wealthy, but they all acknowledge Hadji Zecky as their chief, aiid be arranges the route each maurauding company must take. Two years ago, Gessi Pashi, an Italian noble, who was at one time CoL Gordon's lieutenant, and was left by him iu the Soudan, not only gamed victory over the false prophet's forces, but actually captured that worthy and sent him to Cairo to be tried, but ten days after the false prophet left Khartoum in cn'ains, he gave the officer iu whose custody he was, an enormous sum (as much as $250,000 bas been men tioned) and was allowed to escape. Shortly after this the false prophet sur rounded 6,000 Egyptian troops at Kardofan, above the White Nile, half of whom he mas sacred, carrying the remainder to Abyssinia, and there selling them as slaves. He 'is now onormously wealthy, and, being followed by s, large force, lays claim to the Caiophate, main taming that be is tbe prophet.. His tactics ars very similar to thoso Mohomet himself prac ticed before he was universally acknowledged, and finding tbat the Egyptians were engaged, in a war with England, thought this so oppor tune moment to advance his claims. How Grant Looks Now. New York Letter: The day ia bright sad beautiful, the sun shining strong, and the air bracingly cool just enough winter in it to make brisk walking a pleasure, and enongh of Indian aumroor about it to make a thick top-coat burden. Just as 1 tnrued the cornor of Twenty-third street, as I was looking at magnificent display of flowers in a window, my eyo fell upon the figure of a well-known man, and yet a man who walks entire blocks in this great metropolis unrecognised save now and then by a casual passer. Ten years ago bis name was on every lipi. He bas shown how much stronger thousands are than hun dreds, how much more potent dollars are than cents, hew much moro comfortable under clothes and overcoats are than shivering skins, how much more pleasant roast bcof and hot coffee, daily, are la the tented field, than cold potatoes' and. frozen turnip*. Hs' has been twice president of tbe United States^, and it is not his fault that he was not madsr president tbe third time. The man is Gen. Grant Short, stout, sturdy, ruddy in face, and apparently good for twenty-five or thirty years to come. What will be hist fame a quarter of century benc«? How will his contest with Lee in ths Wilderness be regarded by carwful stu dents of fict, when the prejudices, pro andt. con, of political life are relegated to ths back-1! ground of history? Of course we all remem-. bor Grant's slouch hat, perpetual cigar, and peculiar gait but those are things of ate past. Bich now fceyeod the dream of his most am-. bHtoas fancies, largely interested in affairs at" mown, iu daily contact and nightly inter course with n« of talent and of flaan cial brain, he finds it aesessary^, to sonform ktesstf more to tbe dietatesfc* of customary gnisa He wears a high silk hav fashionably-cut overcoat, and neeUy-felarited boots. His beard is more carefully trimo»ad» ids mustaohe is lined a la node, sod hs bears himself Modestly as be passss slang the street I recall tbe time when hk sreseocs would hav* attracted the attention ot thousands sI seoplsk who would hare cheered, kim ta to moo and follewed hiss for milt* Snr. as lbs*, said, it is rare tbat Us countenance sttrsett tfet ejrs sf oat who knows fciau