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A. A. EAELE, PUBLISHER. Xo Moro OompromlBO wltH Siavory. TERMS, 81,25 IX ADVANCE.
V- VOLUME 1. 1RASBURGH, VERMONT, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 58567 "XUMl Early Love of Queen Elizabeth. BT JULIA W. H GEOKGE. . ' 1 planted ia tny heart one seed of love, . Watered with tears and watched with careless It grew and when I looked that it ihould prove A precious tree, and blessed harrest bear, Blossom nor fruit was there to crown my pain Tears, care and labor had been all in vain." Fasst Kemblk. . The royal banner waved proudly over the battlements of Windsor Castle, on the occasion of the accession of Mary, the Eldest daughter of Henry VIII., to the British thrDne. She was in her thirty seventh year ; but another and fairer daughter of that monarch also resided beneath that battle ment roof the young and fair Elizabeth who was then about seventeen years old. ' The sun sets sweetly, this evening," sighed Eogland's future Queen, as she looked out from the orial window of the library where most of her time was spent. "Mary is Queen," she continued, "but her mind must be very unhappy, for a sul len brow and compressed lips tell but too truly of unhappiness within. Ah, Cour- tenaye, but for you, and the kind, sweet smile with which you greet me, lonely ' orphan as I am, how sad, sad I should feel ! But here comes Mary, and now for anything but the gentle heart-chari ties that form for me the sole enjoyment and comfort of my life." And in her blunt, abrupt way, she came into the library, and asked if the Earl of Devon shire had been there. " No,, Courtenaye has not come yet,' Elizabeth mildly replied. " Did you ex pect him ?" she asked. " Yes. I have been to the tower, and liberated a few poor victims Gardner, Bonner and Tonstal who were impris oned for their adherence to the Catholic faith ha, ha, ha ! The Duke of Nor folk, poor soul ! whom your father, in his characteristic consistency, caused to lan guish there for years, for wearing a coat of arms at court." Here she pursed up her mouth into one of her sarcastic smiles. " Dear sister, I am rejoiced to hear of your Majesty's clemency," returned Eliza' beth. " But Lady Jane Grey and her husband ? Oh '" and then she stopped, Ah !" she said, angrily, " they are la their prisons yet, fast enough. Ah ! they wanted to keep me out of my right, didn't they ? and shan't they suffer ? Ay, indeed !" Elizabeth sighed, for fear and dread hemmed in her borders ; and her caged condition made her careful of all utter ances of her thoughts,save to one earthly being and her God. Mary hobbled out of the room in her usual awkward way, con gratulating herself on the hearty coad jutors she would have in Gaidner, Bon ner and Tonstal, iu establishing the Catho lic religion throughout England. The twilight hour still lingered over the demense of Windsor, and taking her bonnet Elizabeth strolled forth from the castle to the terrrace ; and nature, in her sweet and gentle garb, as the closing shadows of night, like a mantle, was en circling the earth, soon diffused her genial influences over her young and guileless heart She wandered on, and the moon, broad , and full, rose on the lovely landscape, and cast her silvery sheen over mount and lawn, tree and shrub, casting into almost a shadowy indistinctness the noble pile she now called her home. Virginia ; , water, like a mirror, lay sleeping, as it were, beneath the beauties reflected in its sparkling bosom, and gleamed so bright ly amid a scene of such enchanting love liness, that Elizabeth paused in rapturous admiration, forgetful of everything but the loveliness that lay above, below, and around her. Silence seemed brooding like watching angels over the deep solemnity, and the still air held its breath, as another day sunk into the arms of old father Time with iis record on its scroll. Her soul drank in all these feat ures of interest, and she thought, as she gazed on a world beautiful, - Why should one creature whom the bountiful Creator has created be unhappy? Lady Jane Grey, with her fine tastes, ber richly cultivated mind, her ardent piety, languishing, though in nocent as I am, in a prison V And the tears rose unbidden to her eyes. - .o-u, iicic Btuuc ; duiu t wen-Known v voice beside her. "Surely, the Lady Elizabeth must love solitude. " Where did you spring from, Courte naye?" she returned, turning round while a blush mantled her cheek at seeing the l&adsotne cavalier at ber side so unex pectedly. ' I have been here some time. I came in as you left the castle. Beatrice, your good hand-maiden, told me that you had gone out, as I enquired, to take your ac customed evening walk, when you al ways preferred to be alone. Perhaps I am now an interruption V He paused. " Courtenaye, how can you talk thus ? I, who am so friendless, so lonely ! For my kinswoman, as you know, is both harsh and unkind to me, and a walk amid an evening scene like this, always soothes and tranquilizes my spirit. Is it not beau tiful to-night ?" " Very," he returned, thoughtfully, and continued, " 0,""ElizaBelli, I almost trem ble for the nation's welfare ! Her Majesty seems determined, not only to press her religion upon the people, bat to enforce it Here is an alcove ; will you sit, or shall we return to the castle ?" " I wish not to return yet, Courtenaye," she returned. "AH is discord within those princely walls. The humblest cot tage would be to me, with peace, far hap pier than all the splendor I now partake n in. " Our holy.religion teaches us patience, dear lady," he replied. " As you observe, I see nothing but persecutions before us ; but GodVholy spirit can support us under all." " 1 rue ; and my hopes sometimes breathe forth a delightful harmony of coming happiness, when the Reformation shall have spread forth its branches, and taken deep root all over the land." " When you shall be Queen of Eng land," he quickly rejoined, " then will your sweet prophetic whisperings be realized, I feel they will !" he exclaimed energeti cally, regarding her with an expression of hopeful admiration. In early youth, to hope is to almost feel assured. As the poet says : "When life is young and sorrow but a came, And from the heart a fountain welleth up Of joyous hopes, bright visions, fairy dreams That mock experience, and take for truth The fair mirage that fancy hath portrayed." But these hopes were indeed prophetic and the lovely and nnconsious utterer lived to see her own spirit-breathings, and her lover's predictions, all fullfilled. Courtenaye, the eleventh Earl of De vonshire, belonged to one of the most il- tustrious families in England, and was a distant lineal decendant of royalty itself. He was, moreover, young, handsome, tall and finely formed, his fine features, elo quent with the rich gifts of genius and cultivation, and his whole bearing noble and elegant in the highest degree. Like Elizabeth, he was a Protestant, and sought by every possible means to pro mote the spread of the principles of the Reformation. Elizabeth's happiest hours were spent in his society, for he was the only being with whom she could con verse on the topics nearest her heart. He also encouraged her in the pursuit of learning, seeing that some day she would wield the sceptre over the nation. They arose and wandered forth from the alcove, discoursing on the sad aspect of the times, but often paused to dwell on the loveliness and beauty which their fine appreciative minds beheld in everything around. He culled a rose as he passed a green house, and presented it to her as a parting gift. The castle bell tolled nine ; he saw her to the door and bade her farewell. Mary met her as she entered the hall and in an angry voice demanded if De vonshire had been with her. She tremblingly answered, "Yes." " Ah," she said, " when is he comin again f " I don't know," Elizabeth answered. She did not know from words which he had spoken, but she felt within her heart that it would not be long ere she should see him again. And the next day, while seated in her lonely study, poring over those ancient authors by which her mind became so strengthened and improved the young Earl was an nounced, and soon joined her in her dar ling pursuits ; for their minds were fash ioned in the same exalted mold, and they delighted in the glorious aims which learning , opened before them. These were truly Tiappy days to both. Alas! the only ones they ever knew. Their youthful hearts were soon plighted to each other, and even amid the darkness that the fanaticism and cruelty of Queen Mary shed over the nation. Their well ofhappiness ran o'er;" though in secrecy as yet, their love and hopes of union were strictly kept, looking forward to a future day, when conceal ment would no longer be necessary. "What,!, he whose grief bears such an emphasi.?' Hamlet. Time wore on, and the flames of Smith- field rose high abore manj a "fins and suffering form for the religion they loved. Gardner urged Mary on, who with Bon ner and Tonstal, became her chief ad visers in these cruel persecutions. She was firm in her determination that Eng land should become a Catholic nation; and the young Elizabeth, refusing all en treaties to renounce her religion, was soon made to feel the increased misery of her position. The Earl of Devonshire, though strange as it appeared to her, who was also a Protestant, seemed regarded each day wtth increased favor by the Queen, who put on her finest apparel, and array ed herself in the most tasteful jnanner to meet nim'wbenever be came. At length her Majesty declared to her councillors her determination to marry, and on be ing asked if she had made a selection, she informed them that her choice was made in favor of Courtenaye, Earl of Devonshire. His illustrious lineage and highly es teemed character rendered the selection she had made, in their eyes, acceptable, and the proposition received the unani mous sanction and approval of both Houses of Parliament The Earl of Devonshire had not been consulted himself in the matter at all his consent being taken for granted ; but the sequel proved that they had counted without their host. A formal communi eation was made to him of the concur rence of the Queen's Council and Parlia ment, that he should be the husband of her Majesty. Had a thunderbolt fallen on the head of Lord Devonshire, he could not have been more surprised. It was true that Mary had of late been exceeding kind and polite to him ; but he had never dreamed of anything beyond the mere courtesies of the hour. " Trulv. ladv.' he inwardly exclaimed, as he read the communication a second time, "you have intended to honor me, but I cannot ac cept your truly flattering proffer, for my heart is another's. Yes, Elizabeth, to you is my soul knit as its chosen, only love ; and though clouds now obscure thy youthful path, thy Courtenaye spurns all offers that exclude thee from his life's devotion." He felt himself, however, in a dilemma. To refuse the overtures of his sovereign, and the Council, and the Parliament at large, was painful in the extreme; but he nevertheless did so, though in terms as mild and conciliatory as possible. To describe the rage of the Queen was impossible. She raved, she stormed, she wept, all by turns ; and, suspecting a preferment for Elizabeth was the cause, resolved to treat her with more harsh ness than ever. And she kept her word; but veiling her resentment to Lord De vonshire, she permitted his visits to the captle and palace, as formerly, end he saw Elizabet often. But her counte nance became more and more sa'ci, and he could see her now seldom alone. Mary watched them narrowly, deter mined to find out if her suspicions were correct ; and, one evening, during what they teamed a stolen interview, in the library of Windsor Castle, as Lord De vonshire was pouring forth his feelings, and expressing his undying love for one who had so long possessed his heart, and trusting to some favoring future day to be united, the Queen suddenly opened the door, as they sat indulging in hopes so dear to both, and looked for a moment in silence at them. Shakspeare says, " Hell holds no fnry like a woman's scorn." and Mary felt not only as a woman, but as a Queen, and she poured forth anger in no measured terms. Lord Devonshire made no reply to all her invectives, but when shejiad finished, seized his opportunity, and bow ing to each, withdrew. "And you mad am," turning to Elizabeth, who stood strembling before her, as she closed the door, " you shall suffer for this perfidy these secret love meetings ! And he shall feel it, too !" her eyes flashed with the fury of a demon. "And now to your own room ! ' pointing with her finger to the door. Elizabeth obeyed, glad to escape the angry presence of her sister, for whom she could not help feeling pity, notwith standing; for her beloved Courtenaye had confided all to her during their brief! interview. Wretched enough she felt, but in her soul, oppressed though she was, and in the hands of a tyrant and a bigot, one thought of beauty and unsul- tied bliss arose in gladness before her, that he whom she loved above all human beings, was all her own. 44 Oh," she in wardly exclaimed, " why can we not live from courts and gayety remote, and, far from this busy world, live only for ourselves and the young dreamer laid herself down to rest, while visions of happiness in some sweet sequestered vale, as shepherd and shepherdess, blessed her slumbers, and in imagination realized the wish of her young heart. Mary was as vindictive as she was cruel ; and the next day Elizabeth was sent, under the surveillance of one of her faithful officers and her women, into the country, to await the Queen's pleas ure concerning her, where she was kept as a complete prisoner, and permitted to see not a human being beyond those placed over her. Lady Jane.; Grey and her. husband still languished in the dreary tower, but ' their earthly sufferings were drawing to a close ; the day of their execution was fixed. Mary sent a Catholic priest to ' Lady Jane, but she firmly rejected his counsel, and the favor she might have obtained through it. Young, beautiful, and innocent, looking up to that Heaven where her thoughts and hopes had Ions been fixed, she meekly bowed her head to the executioner's axe, after seeing the head of her beloved husband exhibited to her view. Mary, however, in the midst of all these soulsickening practices, was yet set upon marrying ; and her next choice fell upon Philip, son of Charles V. of Spain. Him she married. But she had deter mined on her revenge on Elizabeth and Lord Devonshire, notwithstanding ; and on their refusing, absolutely, to embrace the Catholic religion, she had them both imprisoned- Elizabeth at Woodstock, and Devonshire at Fotheringay Castle. Woodstock was a royal possession, and, it will be remembered, was once called " Fair Rosamond's Bower," where Queen Eleanor compelled her wretched rival and victim to swallow poison. . Its beau tiful gardens and charming pleasure grounds had been well kept up, and its wooded walks and waving groves were indeed a great pleasure to her contem plative character. But the prevailing tone of her mind was melancholy ; for she was a prisoner, and her beloved Courtenaye was also. But, with woman's true. sympathy, the thought of his con finement filled her with a bitterness her own doom could never have called forth. As she dwelt on their sad lot, she thought in the humbler walks of life, how happy could they have been! Lord Devon shire often tarned his thoughts-with sad ness, also, towards his beloved Elizabath; but hope buoyed him up, as he thought a brighter day would surely shine for one so good and so pious as she was. Six weary months had thus passed away, and persecutions and burnings at the stake had steeped all England in gloom, duriag which period Mary had become united to Philip. He had a great desire to propitiate the people in his favor, and one of his first acts, though contrary to the will of his wife, was to liberate these two young prisoners, for both he found greatly beloved by the na tion. Elizabeth became, therefore, again a resident beneath her sister's soof, and once more the lovers had an opportunity to renew and enjoy each other's society. But this pleasure did not last long, for Mary was still determined on her re venge ; and some of her partisans acting on her secret orders, in his hearing drop ped some words of his being a suspected person by the government. It did not stop here ; but accusations of a serious nature were laid to his charge so freqent- ly, as if by accident, that he began to be seriously alarmed. Thus harrassed, he asked and obtained leave of absence, and resolved to travel. Elizabeth mourned the sad necessity of another separation from the only one whose society was dear to her, but there was no alternative ; and, bidding Ler farewell, with the hope of meeting to part no more when those clouds had blown over, he departed. Hope was all that remained to her, but her whisperings cheered her on,, and the thought ef his letters acted as a soothing balm to her otherwise desolate heart. But these were soon to be taken from her. A short time after he had left, news reached London of his death at Padua. At first it was treated as an idle rumor, but it was soon confirmed beyond a doubt, and she received a blow from which her affections never recovered. The Earl of Devonshire was the first and only love of Queen Elizabeth. History has recorded her cruelty, her heartlessness, her coldnesss, Ler disre gard for the feelings of our common na ture, and her contempt for connubial happiness ; but it has said little of the early blight to which all these were owing, and which rendered her the haughty, imperious, exacting, and soul less being she ever after appealed; though a nation rejoiced and flourished in ber reign, for Protestantism was es tablished, industry and the arts progress ed, and the people at large blessed her administration- and her name and time have been handed down to us in a graci ous form, as the days of "good Queen Bets." From the "Humors of Faiconbridge " THE OLD BLACK BULL. It's poor human natur', all out, to wrangle and quarrel now and then, from the kitchen to the parlor, in church and state. Even the fathers of the lioly tab ernacle are not proof against this little weakness ; for people will have passions, people will belong to meetin', and peo ple will let their passions rite, even un der the pulpit. But we have no distinct recollection of ever having known a mis directed, ut properly interpreted Utter, to settle a chuckly " plug muss," se effi ciently and happily as the, case we have in point. Old John Bulkley (grandson of the once famous President Chauney) was a minister of the gospel, and one of the best edicated men of his day in the wood en nutmeg State, when the immortal (or ought to be) Jonathan Trumbull was " around," and in his youth. Mr. Bulk ley was the first settled minister in the town of his adoption, Colchester, Con necticut. It was with him, as after wards with good old brother Jonathan (Governor Trumbull, the bosom friend of General Washington,) good to confer on almost any matter, scientific, political, or religious any subject, in short, where in common sense and general good to all concerned was the issue. As a philoso phical reasoner, casuist, and good coun selor, he was " looked up to," and abided by. It so fell out that a congregation in Mr. Bulkley's vicinity got to logger heads, and were upon the apex of rais ing " the evil one" instead of a spire to their church, as they proposed and split upon. The very nearest they could come to a mutual cessation of the hostil ities, was to appoint a committee of three, to wait on Mr. Bulkley, state their ease, and get him to adjudicate. They waited on the old gentleman, and he listened with grave attention to their conflicting grievances. " It appears to me," said the old gen tleman, " that this is a very simple case a very trifling thing to cause you so much vexation." " So I say," says one of the committee. " I don't call it a trifling case, Mr Bulkley," said another. " No case at all," responded the third. " It ain't, eh ?" fiercely answered the first speaker. " No, it ain't sir !" quite as savegely replied the third. " It's anything but a trifling case, any how," echoed number two, " to expect to raise the minister's salary and that new steeple, too, out of our small con gregation. ' " There is no danger of raising much out of you, anyhow, Mr. Johnson," spite fully returned number one. " Gentlemen, if you please " be seechingly interposed the sage. " I haven't come here, Mr. Bulkley, to quarrel," said one. " Who started this T sarcastically answered Mr. Johnson. "Not me, anyway," number three re plies. " You don't say I did, do you ?" says number one. " Gentlemen ! gentlemen ! " " Mr. Bulkley, you see how it is ; there's Johnson " " Yes, Mr. Bulkley," says Johnson, " and there's old Winkles, too, and here's Deacon Potter, alo." " I am here," stiffly replied the dea con, " and I am sorry the Reverend Mr. Bulkley finds me in such company, sir!'' " Now," gentlemen, brollurs, if you please," said Mr. Bulkley, " this is ridi culous, " " So I say4" murmured Mr. Winkles. " As far as you are concerned, it is ri diculous," said the deacon. This brought Mr. Winkles up, stand ing. - Sir !" he shouted, " sir !" " But my dear sirs " beseechingly said the philosopher. " Sir !'' continued Winkles, " sir ! I am too old a man too good a Christian, Mr. Bulkley, to allow a roan, a mean, despicable fW,like Deacon Potter " " Do you call me me a despicable toad 1" menacingly cried the deacon. "Brethren," said Mr. Bulkley, "if I am to counsel you in your difference, I must have no more of this uncbrutian like bickering." " I do not wish to bicker, sir," said Johnson. u Nor I don't want to, sir," said the deacon, " but when a man calls me a toad, a mean, despicable tcud " " Well, well, never mind," said Mr. Bulkley your are all too excited now; go home again, and wait pntiently ; on Saturday evening next, I will have prepared and sent to you a written opinion of your case, with a full and free avowal ef most wholesome ad vice for preserving your church from de solution and yourselves from despair." And the committee left, to await his is sue. Now it chanced that Mr. Bulkley had a small farm, some distance from the town of Colchester, and found it necessa ry, the same day he wrote his opinion and advice to the brethren of the disaf fected church, to drop a line to his farm er regarding the fixtures of said estate. Having written a long, and of course, elaborate " essay" to his brethren, he wound up the the day's literary exertions with a despatch to the fanner, and after a reverie to himself, he directs the two documents, and next morning despatches them to their several destinations. On Saturday evening a full and anx ious synod of the belligerent church men took place in their tabernacle, and punctually, as promised, came the des patch from the Plato of the time and place, Rev. John Bulkley. All was quiet and respectful attention. The moderator took up the document, broke the seal, opened and a pause ensued, while dubious amazement seemed to spread over the features of the worthy president of the meeting. " Well, brother Temple, how is it t. . j ii i . wuai uoes-air. .uuisuey say r aim an other pause followed. " Will the moderator please proceed?" said another voice. The moderator placed the paper upon the table, took off his spectacles, wiped the glasses, then his lips replaced his ipecs upon bis nose, and with a very broad grin, said : " Brethren, this appears to me to be a very singular letter, to say the least of it !" " Well, read it read it," responded the wondering hearers. " I will," and the moderator began : " You will see to the repair of the fences, that they be built high and strong, and you will take special care of tin old Black Bull." There was a general pause ; a silent mystery overspread the community ; the modtraior dropped the paper to a "rest," and gazing over the top of his glasses for several minutes, nobody saying a word. " Repair the fences !" muttered the moderator at length. " Build them strong and high !" echoed Deacon Potter. " Take special care of the old Black Bull.'" growled half the meeting. Then another pause ensued, and each man eyed his neighbor in mute mystery. A tall and venerable man now arose from his seat ; clearing bis voice with a hem, he spoke : " Brethren, you seem lost in the brief and eloquent words of our learned ad viser. To me nothing could be more appropriate to our case. It is just such a profound and applicable reply to us as we should hare hoped and looked for, from the learned and good man, John Bulkley. The direction to repair the fences, is to take heed in the admission and government of our members ; we must guard the church by our Matter's laws, and keep out stray and vicious cat tle from the fold ! And, above all things, seta trustworthy and vigilant match over that old black bull, who is the devil, and who has already broken iuto our enclos ures and sought to desolate and lay waste the fair grounds of our church I" The effect of this interpretation was electrical. All saw and took the force of Mr. Bulkley' cogent advice, and un animously resolved to be governed by it ; hence the old black bull was pat hors da combat, and the church preserved its union ! CiT A French woman talks a great deal more than she thinks an English woman thinks a great deal more than he talks. A man, for being told the truth, thanks you the first time voU you a bore the second and quarrels wall you the third. FoauAtrrr Tha more polished the society is, the lets formality there i in A WALRUS HUNT. " Now for the marvel of the craft. When the walrus is above water, the hunter is flat and motionless; as be begins to sink, alert and ready fjr a spring. The animal's head is hardly below the water- line before every man is in a rapid run ; and again, as if by instinct, before the beast returns, all are motionless behind projecting knolls of ice. They seem trf know beforehand not only the time he will be absent, but the very spot that he will appear. In this way, hiding and ad vancing by turns, Myouk, with Morton at his heels, has reached a plate of thin ice,, hardly strong enough to bear them, at the very brink of the pool the walrus are curveting in. Myouk, till now, phlegmatic, seems to awaken with excitement. His coil of walrus-hide, a well trimmed litie of many fathoms' length, is lying at his side. He fixes one end of it in an iron barb, and fastens this loosely by a socket upon a shuft of unicorn's horn ; the other end is already looped, or, as a sailor would say, ' doubled in a bight.". It is the work of a moment. He has grasped the harpoon; the water is in motion. Puffing with pent up respiration, the walrus is within a couple of fathoms close before him. Myouk rises slowly, his right arm thrown back, the left flat at his side. The wal rus looks about him, shaking the water from his crest : Myouk throws up his left arm , and the animal, rising breast high, fixes one look before he plunges. It has cost him all that curiosity can cost ; the harpoon is buried under his left flipper. Though awuk is down in a moment Myouk is running at desperate speed from the scene of his victory, paying off his coil freely, but clutching the end by its loop. He seizes as he runs a stick of boue, rudely pointed with iron, and by a sudden movement drives it into the ice ; to this he secures his line, pressing it down close to the ice-surface with his feet. " Now comes the struggle. The hole isdarhed in mad commotion with tha struggles of the wounded beast ; the line is drawn tight at one moment, the next relaxed ; the hunter has now left his sta tion. There is a crack of the ice : and rearing up through it are two walruses, not many yards from where he stands. One of them, the male, is excited, and seemingly terrrifiedl the other, the fe male, collected and vengeful. Down tbey go again, after one grim 6urvey of the field; and on the instant Myouk has changed his position, carrying his coil with him and fixing it anew. " He has hardly fixed it before the pair have again risen, breaking up an area of ten feet diameter about the very spot ho left. As they siuk'once more he again changea his place. And so the conflict goes on between address and force, till the victim, half exhausted, receives a second wound, and is played 1'ke a trout by the angler's reeL " The instinct of attack which charac terizes the walrus is interesting to the naturalist, as it is characteristic also of the land animals, the pachyderm with which he is classed. When wounded he rises high out of the water, plunging heavily against the ice, and strives to raise himself with his fore-fiippers upon its surface. As it breaks under its weigh, his countenance assumes a still more vin dictive' expression, his bark changes to a roar, and the foam pours out from his jaws till it froths his beard. "Even when not excited, he manages his tuks bravely. They are so strong that he uh-i them to grapple the rxrks with, and climb steeps of ice and land, which would be inaccesable to him with out their aid. He ascends It) this way rocky islands that are sixty and a hun dred feet above the level of the sea ; and I have myself seen Lira in these elevated positions, basking with his'young in the cool sunshine of August and September." CJJ" A tkunk once challenged a lion to single combat. The lion declined ac cepting it. " How !" said the skunk, are you afraid 7 " Yes," replied the lion, " you would only gain fame by having had the honor to fijjht a lion, while every one who met me for a month to come, would know that I had been in combat with a skunk." (fj" Friendship requres actions ; love requires not so much proofs as expres sions of love. Love demands little else than the power to feel and to requite ! kY. ( J" Life is to be bated only when its continuance would thwart the purpose of iu gift. When the alternative is mar tyrdom or jota.