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VOL. XI.—NO. 40
“AT THE LAST.” [This calmly beautiful poetry appeared, | original, in “ Ike Independent," written ; upon the passage, “Man goeth forth unto | his work, and to his labor, until the even- 1 ing:”] The stream is calmest when it uears the tide, | And flowers are sweetest at the eventide, And birds most musical at close of day, And saints divinest when they pass away. Morning is lovely, but a holier charm Lies folded elose in Evening’s robe of balm ; And weary man must ever love her best, For Morning calls to toil, but night to rest. i "he comes from Heaven, and on her wings ! doth bear j A holy fragrance, like the breath of prayer; Footsteps of angels followed in her trace, To shut the weary eyes of Day in peace. All things are hushed before her, as she throws ! O’er earth and sky her mantle of repose ; There is a calm, a beauty, and a power That Morning knows not, in the evening hour, j Until the evening” we must weep and toil, Plow life's stern furrow, dig the weedy soil, Ti ead with sad feet our rough and thorny way, 1 And bear the heat aud burden of the day. «»k when our sun is setting may we glide, Like Summer evening, down the golden tide ; j And leave behind us as we pass away, > weet, starry twilight round our sleeping clay ! j BARABBAS. From the Church Journal. Every body knows who Barabbas was ; J and his name and character are held in gen- i eral abhorrence. But is not this the effect of Christian ! prejudice? Are we not visiting upon his, head the sins of the real and great villains d the times—the chief priests and scribes | and rulers of the people—who, for hatred of! our Lord, taught the people to “ ask Bar rabbas,” in order to “ destroy Jesus ?” Is j it not possible that Barabbas, viewed thro’ the clearer spectacles of modern enlighten ment, may appear to be no such very reprobate individual after all? May there not have been good reasons why he should .-jHiutaneously have been named as the pop- j ular lavorite, rather than any other prisoner, ti i be released by the Governor at the Feast ? The reasons are at once apparent, the m ment we begin to investigate the state of j public affairs at Judea at the time ; and the \ close connection between Barabbas aud the politics of that day in that part of the world, j is equally self-evident and significant. Iu j the minds of the great majority of the ! •Jewish nation—a nation that had always j been stiff-necked and rebellious—there was j a deep conviction ol an irrepressible con- j tiict, that must sooner or later be fought out between themselves and their masters the Romans, who had reduced them to the con dition of a subject province, made them pay tribute, taken from them the right to have kings or princes of their own nation, and denied them the privilege of inflicting death according to the laws laid down in the Books ol Moses. In these and various other oppressive ways the Romans had reduced them to a condition which they regarded as their bitterest affliction, and little better than slavery. True, it was God’s providence that had brought all this upon them, in punishment for the abominable sins of them selves and their nature, which had been accumulating more and more for many gen erations. True, their own prophets bad foretold the very doom that they were then suffering, and the incomparably greater miseries that were yet to follow if they per sisted in their wicked ways. Aud yet they persisted. And as every successive year their strength grew weaker, and the Romans grew stronger, still, with a strange pervers ity. their conviction aud hopefulness of the irrepressible conflict took deeper and deeper hold of the secret heart of the nation, and was the one and only nerve that thrilled through the whole laud whenever it was touched. In all these things they were hopelessly divided into sects and parties, that hated one another with only less intens ity than they had the Homans. Xow it is evident that Barabbas was a firm believer in the irrepressible conflict. The chief priests and scribes aud popular leaders preached it up all the while, but were careful to keep themselves out of harm’s way when any attempt was really made to meddle with cold iron. Whenever it was necessary to keep their highly respec table selves out of the clutches ol the Ro mans, they were ready enough to protest with hypocritical promptness and earnest ness, “ We know no king but Cai3ar!”— This they did freely, but the thing was per fectly well understood throughout the whole lend of .J udea, and notwithstanding all their protestations to Pontius Pilate, everybody knew their sympathies were on the side of freedom—as they understood it. Barabbas, however, was more honest and brave, or less politic than the leaders of the national party to which he belonged. With a straightfor wardness which scorned the hypocrisy of the Scribes and Pharisees, and with a lofty courage and cool hardihood of daring which the world has seldom seen surpassed, he, with bis small band of followers, defied the tre mendous power of imperial Rome, and began the irrepressible conflict. Poor fellow! he must have been desperately disappointed at the result 1 He knew his motives to be patriotic, and took it for granted that the people for whom he wa3 risking so much, would flood to his standard in overflowing thousands. But they preferred staying at home, possibly hoping and wishing that he might succeed in doing the fighting, but evidently thinking it too wild and risky to take any part in themselves. So he and those who made insurrection with him suc ceeded only in “ committing murder,” —that is, killing a few people, aud perhaps by no means those whom he desired to kill—and th< n they were speedily overpowered, cap tured, and for some time “ lay bound in prison.” But, of course, Barabbas became at once a notable prisoner. Every other believer in the irrepressible conflict sympathized with him, and his name was in their mouths iu all the cities, towns, villages and hamlets, from Dan to Beersheba. Though they were all ready to disclaim any responsibilty for his deed of violence and blood—for there is a great deal of difference between only entertaining a dangerous opinion, and being such a madcap as to act upon it—yet they were unanimously agreed that Barabbas was admirably brave; that his error was only an error of the head, not of the heart; and that if he had only succeeded, he would have been a hero, instead of being, as he was, a “ robber,” aud a “ murderer,” and very likely to be hanged on a tree. There is one excuse for Barabbas, how- i ever, that must not be forgotten. Those j whom he was so anxious to deliver were of his own race and nation—of his own flesh aud blood. He had no idea of any such Quixotism as undertaking an insurrection for the benefit of a different race. It was not to deliver the Samaritans, or the rem nants of the Caananites in the laud, or the Philistines, or the Moabites, or the Edom ite3, or the dwellers in Tyre and Sidon, or the yet more distant subjects of Candace, queen of Ethiopa, that he took up arms, and perilled his life and the lives of his follow ers. The sufferings and oppressions of those other nations and peoples, he very well knew, were none of his business. He had been faithful in attendance on the Synagogue, doubtless (else the chief priests would hardly have taken so great a liking to him,) and had often heard read there the words of the wise King Solomon :—“ He that passeth by and meddleth with strife belonging not to him, is like one that taketh a dog by the ears.” The comparison is very striking, especially to one who, like Barabbas, was familiar with the packs of untamed dogs that act as scavengers iu all the villages and towns of the East. That there was gross oppression among those other nations was true; and, probably, particular cases of it may have come to his knowledge, and stirred his indignation at the time. But he re membered King SolomoD, and bethought him of the consequences of taking a dog by the ears. He knew that this method of proceeding does not really hurt the animal, and thus might Dot prejudice his excellent character for kindness and true humanity of disposition. But he knew 'hat it has a very irritating effect upon a dog to take him by the ears, especially if he be a large dog, a strong dog, and a dog of unsubdued and violent passion. He knew, also, that the position is exceedingly inconvenient for the man that bolds the dog. For though, while firmly grasping the ears of the brute, and turuiug them iu a judicious direction, the dog cannot bite, yet every moment increases the ferocity of his desire to bite. More over, the dog, under such circumstances, is an active and energetic member of the liberty party, and makes incessant struggles to recover that full use and enjoyment of his own ears, to which every dog has an inalienable right by nature. On reflection, too, it will be perceived that, in the position alluded to with such pregnant brevity by King Solomon, the man’s hands are likely to ache miserably with the fatigue and exer tion of holding the dog’s ear 3, loDg before the dog is tired of trying to get away ; so that, no matter how long the indulgence in this awkward amusement is protected, the chances of the dog are continually getting better, while those of the man are as rapidly growing worse. The man’s reflections, too, as his strength decreases, and his eyes are fascinated more and more by the long white teeth that are not far from the dog’s ears, can hardly be agreeable. He is apt to say to himself, “ What a fool I was to take this dog by the ears! I cannot possibly hold on much longer, and how terribly he will bite when be is let go! ” Indeed the natural finale of this affair is unpleasant to look for ward to, that if we have succeeded in clearly picturing to the mind of our readers a man in that uncomfortable predicament, we are sure we shall be pardoned by them if we decline to see him through with it, and prefer, of mere kindness, to leave him hold ing on still. But Barabbas, as we have said, was no such fool; which is not a little to his credit. He Lad made an attempt for the benefit of his own nation, aud he knew they under stood it. He knew they looked forward to the coming struggle as well as he did ; and that even were he executed, he would be reckoned by them a martyr in the cause of liberty, and his name would be a watchword on their lips when the great, day of bloody deliverance should come at last. So he was fully prepared to die like a hero ; although SAINT PAUL, FRIDAY JANUARY, 13, 1860 the law, and the Romans, and the writers of the ever-blessed Gospels of God. knew no other description for him than to call him a “ robber ” and a “ murderer,” —one who had made “ sedition ” and “ insurrec tion.” But his time had not yet come to die. He was to be delivered from prison and from death, notwithstanding the provocation he had given, and the wondrous strength of the Roman arms that held him fast. It is, indeed, in the means of his deliverance, that the deepest and most solemn teachings of his history are given to us, —teachings that may, perhaps, convey wisdom iu other ages and other climes. He was the lavorite of the people, indeed ; but that alone would not have been enough. Another and a greater than Barabbas was there. He, too, was widely known throughout all Judea, and beyond Jordan, and in Galilee, and Sa maria, and in the coasts of Tyre and Sidou, and all the region round about. He, too, had seen and known the fearful degradation aDd oppression of His people, and had come down to earth to deliver them, and offer them true liberty. He bad fed the hungry, healed the sick, restored the halt, the maim ed, the deaf, the dumb, the blind ; cleansed the lepers, cast out devils, raised the dead, and wrought innumerable wonders through out all the land. He had given unto them Truth—heavenly Truth, —and had opened unto them them the fountain of everlasting life. He spake as never inau spake, and Dot one iu all the laud could convince Him of sin. Him the popular liberty party had attacked again and again, and laid every snare to entangle Him in His talk. The liberty party, iu those days, refused to be lieve in a God or a Gospel tliat did not approve of a conflict ol physical force, to free them from their masters the Romans. Every Gospel that came not up to this standard, was to them a spurious Gospel; and, short of this, every one that claimed to be the Christ, they were ready to stone as a ,‘blasphemer.” In their eyes, therefore, the Lord Jesus was deeply tainted by His com pliances with the enslaving power of the Romans. His very birth took place when Joseph and Mary went up to Bethlehem to be taxed at the command of a Roman Em peror. He had healed the child of a Roman Centurion. He had told them to render unto Caesar the things that be Caesar’s. He bad paid the tribute—that odious badge of subjection—for Himself aud bis follow ers, by miracle. He had escaped from the popular party, and hid Himself when they wished to take Him by force and make Him a king; and that, too, when He claimed all the while to be the King of Israel, the Son of David, and the rightful Heir to whom God had promised that lie should sit on David’s throne, and that of His King dom there should be no end. Iu every way, and at every point, He had purposely, pointedly, and repeatedly foiled the liberty party of His day ; whereas, in all these respects, Barabbas was the type and symbol of those very things in which the people delighted, and in which the Ch-ist had dis appointed them. To make the antithesis yet more perfect, the very name of the pop ular hero was a parody on that of Him who was rejected and despised ; for Barabbas signifies “ The Son of the Father.” The coincidence, then, that led to the delivery of Barrabas from prison and from death, was no accident, —no mere empty chance. Barabbas was a representative man, as well as Christ. The multitude loved the one for his crimes ; just as they hated the Other, because of His intolerable and super human virtues. They “ desired ” Barabbas to be delivered unto them, because they were enthusiastic for the liberty that comes, so bravely, through insurrection, sedition, robbery and murder. They cried out against the Christ in the same breath, “ Crucify Him, Crucify Him,” because they bad no love for the more glorious liberty of the sons of God, and treated with scorn the idea of a freedom that was to come through obedi ence, and suffering, and poverty, and mar tyrdom, and every variety of earthly tribu lations, and a spiritless submission to every ordinance of man for tbe Lord’s sake. They had no ears to hear, and no hearts to under stand, the liberating power of the new Gos pel as given unto them by the true Son of tbe Father : —“ If the Son shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.” Therefore it was that they so readily fol lowed their evil leaders, —the chief priests, the scribes, and rulers, —who were hypo crites and demagogues ; —who were very pious meu, nevertheless, in their way, and made long prayers, and were as happy in quoting the Scriptures as Satan himself; — the liberty-loviqg mob gladly followed them, and the passions of their own hearts, in that day when the sublime and overwhelming Crisis of their nation was in their hands. It was not simply the expression of sympa thy fora brave but unsuccessful man. They were called to choose between two. To accept the one was to reject the other. They knew it: and with awful eagearness they made their rejection of the Christ, first of all:—“ Hot this Man," shouted they, “ but Barabbas.” St. Peter also, in his sermon in Solomon’s porch, places the two alterna tives in the same order :—“ Bat ye denied the Holy One and the Just," saith he, “ and desired a murderer to be granted unto you.” And when Pontius Pilate, anxibus still to INTENTIONAL DUPLICATE EXPOSURE free himself from the guilt of innocent blood, asked what they would that he should do with Jesus, they replied at once :—“ Let Him be crucified.” I’ll us did the liberty-loving Jews settle the great Crisis of their nation, when it came upon them. It was a tremendous price to pay for the temporary triumph of the principles of Barabbas. It is a price which those who hold the principles of Barabbas are as ready to pay now, as they were in the streets of Jerusalem eighteen hundred years ago. So that, after all, it is no wonder that Christian men abhor the memory of Barabbas. Closing the Victoria Hi 5 ge Quebec Cjrrespand-snce of the Spectator The Grand Trunk cars will soon run through the Victoria Bridge, they say, at the rate of twenty miles an hour, even if they do not already come up to that speed. Five minutes, therefore, will suffice to cross the St. Lawrence at Montreal. I left the Point St. Charles station yesterday at nine, and may say a word concerning my first trip through the tube. A very few minutes sufficed to bring the train upon tbe great cause-way which runs out in deep water, and here it was evident how wise a provision this p irt of the work is for holding fast the bordage ice. In the bays between the em bankment and the shore the ice is frozen tight, the line where the current sweeps past it being well defined. With a great rush, the locomotive as cends the incline, and with a fierce scream, dashes into the bridge proper, which is so long that the lamps are lit into the passen ger cars before the journey is commenced. I had previously taken my stand upon the platform, outside of the door, but I would recommend no future passenger to follow my example, for gusts of wind, charged with light ashes from the furnace, and with snow, into which the steam from the engine had been condensed, howled past my ears, and rudely assailed my face. The din was something terrific, as if made by the clank ing of ten thousand great steam hammers. Every now and then, when passing the holes punched here and there through the iron plates, I couid 3ee enough to be aware of the great speed at which we were going. When we passed from one tube to an other—and the space between them is, in this cold weather, enough for a thin man to squeeze his body through—there was a mo mentary illumination, and in two or three of those places I saw men or boys clinging close to the side of the tube, with a look of mingled wonder, fear and awe, as the train dashed past. There was a little slackening of our speed towards the centre of the bridge, but when we got halt way over and commenced the descent, it was accelerated, and the brake had to be applied a little. Soon we emerged iuto the open air, and could look back at the Cyclopean masonry which, as at the other end, guards the por tals of the marvellous Victoria Bridge. Message of the Governor of Penn sylvania. Harrisburg, Pa., Jan. 4. —Gov. Packer’s message refers to the Harper’s Ferry diffi culty, and says that it is gratifying to Penn sylvania to believe that the citizens of the commonwealth did not in any manner par ticipate in the unlawful proceeding; to know that when some of the guilty parties were arrested within its jurisdiction, they were promptly surrendered. He adds that while entertaining no doubt that our repub lican institutions, which have been carried forward to their present exalted position in the eyes of the world, will continue to the latest generation, it is the part of wisdom and patriotism to be watchful and vigilant to guard a treasure so priceless. Let mod erate counsels prevail; let a spirit of har mony, good will and national fraternal senti ment be cultivated among people everywhere and the disturbing elements which tempo rarily threaten the Union will assuredly pass away. Pennsylvania’s central position, with 3,- 000,000 of free men, enables her to say with emphasis to the plotters of treason on either hand, that neither shall be permitted to succeed, that it shall not be in the power of either to disturb tbe perpetuity of a Union, cemented and sanctified by the blood of our patriotic fathers. At every sacrifice the constitutional rights of the people and the State shall be maintained, equal justice done to all, and these States united forever. The Governor congratulates the Legisla ture that the State debt is decreasing at the rate of a million yearly, resulting mainly from the sale of the canals. A Southern paper has the following par agraph of correspondence: “Negro lectur ing pays. A speculator hired one of Downing’s (Broad street oyster saloon) wait ers for fifty dollars a month, and agreed to pay his expenses to lecture! He hired a person to write the lecture, and the darkey started on his tour, calling himself an escap ed Virginia slave. His lecture was called “ John Brown and Slavery in Virginia.” He delivered the lecture at Newark as George Johnson. His receipts were four hundred dollars. The speculator then agreed to divide equally, and let George off on the fifty dollars a month arrangement.” WHAT THE OLD YEAR SAID, From the Boston Courier. Eighteen Hundred and Fifty-Xine lin gered in the high belfry of the church in Hanover street : lor, being a wily oid fellow who had seen the world, he knew that the clock there, like many other things that go “on tick,” was sure to be behind time, and he would thus gain five minutes before he stepped into the past. As he looked out over the snow-beleagureu town, he spoke. And this was what he said : “ I’m not sorry to leave you ; for I’ve had a hard time with you. 1 came among you, a fresh and merry child. 1 found many of you asleep in warm beds, many trying to sleep in beds not so warm, a few of you with no beds at all. By many my advent was hailed with boisterous glee; but this was probably born of the beverage in which you drank my health. You greeted me loudly, and then by daylight began to growl about the weather I brought; some of you have growled about the weather on each of my three hundred and sixty-five days. There was no such tbrng as suiting you ; and, to tell the truth, I never cared much whether you were suited or not. When I first came I had a good stock of faith in human na ture, was disposed to deal very gently with your faults aud to make much of your ex cellencies. But you abused me from the beginning to the end, and now I don’t won der that you are glad to turn your back on one you have so much injured. What a quantity of humbug I have seen to be sure! Why, on the first day of my course it was rampant. Every body called out, one to the other, ‘ Wish you a happy New Year,’ and then went directly to work to render happi ness an impossibility for all parties. A led B into temptation, B cheated C, C slan dered D, and the whole alphabet wrapped themselves in a thick mantle of selfishness, became social hedgehogs, with a head rarely visible and never attractive. I vow, I couldn’t help laughing, child as I was, when on the ‘New Year’s Day ’ I saw the small parties of nice young men making calls—not because they liked to do so, nor that they enjoyed the business, nor because they had anything to say, nor because they really wanted to see anybody, but because the nice young men of New York, following the ancient custom, made calls on that day, and it was thought to be the thing. That which in the metropolis was a natural and a grace ful amusement —graceful early in the day, I mean—and in which a certain measure of real hilarious enjoyment was to be found, became here to you a solemn performance, dull even if original, and utterly rayless as an imitation. Gracious! How my weather was used up in the talk of that day and those calls. There was a spice of scandal, certainly, but even that bad Dot its usual zeal; for everybody was acting a part, and none were yet quite easy in the words. There indeed seemed to be some exceptions to the general dullness; as, for instance, I overheard little Jane Threadneedle say to her sister Bella: ‘ How funny Mr. Cban delles was! He kept laughing all the time, and made up the queerest faces' She re ferred to a young man who had just left the drawing room, gyrating somewhat, and a little shaky with his polysyllables. It was rather late in the day, to be sure, and Bella merely said, ‘ Hush, child.’ I soon found, however, that this humbug wasn’t confined to the first day of my reign ; that it ran through all your social life. I saw a small country called society, surrounded by a high wall and entered by a narrow gate. On one side of the gate was a crowd of people striving with their might to keep it shut, giving very little heed to the cultivation of the pastures the well inclosed. On the other there was a second crowd pushing vigorously to force open the door; and they, too, neglected * their own fields, turned coldly away from their pleasant running brooks. Now and then, one in gay apparel, bringing a heavy bag to bear upon the gate, would be unwillingly admitted; this one would wander about for a time alone in society ; then would become part of it, and would join more zealously than any in the throng who pushed from within to close the gate. I found Mrs. Grundy among you in great force. She has had you all under her foot, and none of you dare even to buy a new hat or muff till she has been consulted. The young men among you dare not marry, because they cannot afford it, they say. Stuff! It is because Mrs. G. says they must live in a certain quarter of the town, have a certain kind of furniture, and buy meat every day, instead of taking it cold half the time. The young men are bad enough about this ; but the young wo man are worse. Disinterested affection ! Oh, yes! Have I not looked into the pretty head of many a girl when the suitor was stumbling along in a confession of his love, and when she was supposed to be listening in rapture to the sweet words; and have I not seen that a panorama of a household was passing before her mental eye, a pan orama whose minutest details she was criti cising as coolly as she would criticise the personal appearance of a beauty at the theatre? Instead of the conventional ye s, it would be much more appropriate if she had answered it's a bargain. If by chance some of these people have blundered into a marriage, they dare not live as they would ! like to live. How many of them would NEW SERIES- NO 213 dine at one o’clock, if they thought it desir able to eat at that hour ? Or, dining then, how many would not try to hide the fact, perhaps calling it a luncheon! Heaven help them ! You pul nice furniture into your houses ; who uses it ? Bobson, and Knibbe, aud Newdel, who come to visit you, who care nothing for you, for whom you care less. Y r et they use your furniture; and then you cover it up again when they are gone, and exile yourself to mbre ordinary domes tic appliances. You like the old better? Then why did you buy the new? Because Mrs. Grundy told you to do it, and you were afraid of her sneer. Marriages, in deed ! Some of your marriages are pleasant things, arn't they ? Bride-to-be and bride to-be’s parents work themselves nearly to death for a long time beforehand. Bride to-be inks her fingers in addressing envel opes to a thousand people—friends ! Friends send presents, trumpery. Bride-to-be, kisses the friends when she sees them, and thanks them lor the beautiful gifts. Hubbub, more envelopes, more presents. A tardy hard day’s work, and then the friends come. They don’t bring opera glasses, for there’s no need of them. But they have the same interest in the show as they would have at the theatre. Enter the parties to the contract, pale, jaded, used up. Love, honor, obey— O, yes. of course, and all that. Hurry along priest; this is not what the friends have come to hear. Tramp, tramp, three hours i of people always saying the same thiug ; three hours of the sensation the Siamese twins might feel when on exhibition. Duly, luckily, they didn’t understand the language when they traveled. As soon as they did understood it they stopped, lest they should be bored to death. Bride is picked to pieces by her female friends. Bride’s cake I is picked to pieces by her male friends, and much of it falls on bride’s mother’s carpet. An excellent way to begin lite, truly. Yet you would’ut dare not to do so, or as much like it as your means afford. This wedding is the key note ol your whole life. There’s a mother-in-law in every house. Mrs. Grandy is her name. You go to church. Well, you do go to church with some regularity here, I have noticed it. What hour do you go? Y'ou go in a state of perpetual strabismus —with one eye turned to Saturday and the other towards Monday. Sunday to you is a sev enth day refrigerator, and when you go to your business again you are as cold as if you had sent your hearts to be repaired and they had not been brought back. I have much enjoyed seeing you when you wish to do something about which your trouble some conscience growls. You begin to look very grave and solemn, and to take the name of duty iu vain, and to make yourself think i you are obeying her in the deed. Then your ecouomy is amusing, exquisitely amus ing. Most of it is stinginess, aud you brag of it. Once in a while you practice real economy, and then you are mostly ashamed of it, and pretended that you did no such thing. Your benevolence is rich too. You give a few dollars to the treasurer of some remote charity, and then you write over your cash book, ‘ : the free list is entirely suspended,” remembering that as you have the poor with you always, you can attend to their case next year. You “ only give to well known charities.” That is entirely satisfactory to the miserable woman who just now went out of your presence. She might live on that for a day at least. I’ve seen a few of you, a very few, go quietly into pestilent nests up tumble-down stair-cases, down into damp cellars, and there throw a little sunshine into some dreary lives. I will say that I have seen this, and have made a note thereof. But I’ve had no surfeit of the sight. I’ve sometimes thought you lacking in veneration, but I must take back the thought. You do have a reverence for money. You do not speak aloud in pres ence of it. You never enter a bank with out in heart putting off your shoes. I think most of you would swoon with awe if you found yourself in a bank parlor. You talk with a friend chattingly, good humored ly, and even with mirth, so long as your con versation runs on the order of the day. But the moment you touch upon money, each i man of you puts on his pontificial robes and bows down. ’Tis well. Cultivate this feeling, and then you will scrape together wealth, and when you die you will leave it all behind you and go somewhere else. My time is almost out. I hear the steps of my successor. Shortly you will be clink ing your glasses, dancing on my grave, and hailing the newly born. I wish him joy of you! And to-morrow morning you will make good resolutions. O, yes! If they be only kept, all the traders will do a cash business next year. Well, I’m tired of you. And yet, there’s some good among you ; some true hearts, some ” Just then the clock awoke to a sense of duty and struck. It was a clumsy execu tioner, and took twelve blows to slay the old year. He died like a man who has too long put off making his will, and the legacy of his good word was lost. It is pleasant ; to think, though, that he would have said something kind bad there been time. Jenny Lind has made up her mind to endow and erect an asylum for decayed sing ers.