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NORTHESH OHIO JODRNAL.
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PAIXESVIITLE LAKE COUNTY, OHIO, SATURDAY, JANUARY 4, 1873. WHOLE NO. 78. - PEOLOO-UE 'Twas Christmas eve. Two patrons passing by Had chanced to stop, to kindly greeting give, . And speak of passiug news. From open grate The lirelipht gleamed, and quaint, fantastic form ' Ot shadow threw on all around; without The snow lay crisp and clear, and through the night Gave out, beneath the tread of passer by, An echoing creak that told of bitter cold. And so, perhaps an hour, we sat and talked Of varying thoughts, until, from old to new, They chanced to speak that with another week Came New Year's day, when Custom bad decreed That one must write a Carrier's Address; And then 'twas said, perhaps with much of truth, -That 'twould be well it change were made in this: To substitute some tale of wild experience For that which nil would say bad run its rounds Vear alter year, 'till they were wearied with it. The old was well enough, perhaps, although J2ver with little sense and less of; rhyme At best; but now its day was passed, ' '"" "' And if a nobler air could be essayed .... -The new-born year might be the better By that oue thought at least. And so they went. The fire had fallen lew, and as I watched A single spark for a moment shone Aud died. The shadows deep came ou apace, . Grew with the gloom and darkened. From out the night Came forms and faces, known and read, that seemed As real. - But from the rest one came at last And formed itseir in words; perhaps too sad . For Ifew Year's song bnt when was moral taught , In lightsome strain . ' At best a simple atery, Heard in years now lone apone, but which, Thinking of what my friends had said, best seemed A Htting tale with which to greet the infant year. PAfMi6VILl.K,1UHIl DEC. 28. 1872. The Story of 'Lorn Light. 1. K. C. " I. rpHF. Story of 'I.orn Light, that lends its lamp 1 To warn all vessels Irom. the Keef of Doom, Where lion surges ceaseless roar and ramp, And many a .gallant heart has found a tomb. West of the point whereon the lighthouse stands, ... : A Tillage nestles on the valley's side, Throuich which a brooklet tumbles to the sands, To lose itself in the unrestful tide; A little village, full ot Usher-folk, That boasts a tiny pier, of stone rough-hewn, Whereon the wild waves beat themselves to smoke When keen Xorth-Eastera pipe their stormy tuue. Here, summer visitors like swallows came And gleamed along the sands. But when the year. ' Forewarned ot death, touched all the woods with fia ius For funeral pyre, then would they disappear: Wherefore thev knew not what the winters brought To that small village by the waterj edge; How with the dills the furious ocean fought. Broke on their breast and leapt from ledge to ledge. Nor knew thev what it was to wait and yearn For those whose boats might never more come home .. So wondered w hy the fishers' wives should turn Eyes dim with awe to that longliue of foam That long, white, angry bur across the tide, Seen in the daylight, heard in midnight gloom, Those rocks, throughout the sea-coast wild aud wid Known, feared aud hated as the Keef of Doom. II.- In that small village Uicbard Masters dwelt, ... An honest fisher, owner of a lioot; Yet one who in his inmost bosom felt A longing for some nobler work afloat, And who, small wonder, as he hauled his net. And steered Tbe Little Commodore" to shore. Oft dreamed the vague, ambitious dreams that fret A noble heart inactive to the core. His mother lived: and but for her, the boy Had long ago sought sceues of sterner strife; Content for her his labors to employ, And gently feed her failing lamp of life. But Love, the pilot-who delights to steer Poor human hearts on snndhnnk or on reef Or, for lonr voyages will sail them clear. Which bring them.back with heavy freights ot grief Love took the tiller Vmt of Richard's hand, In spite ot every effort to resist. And turned the vessel's head away from laud, And let her drift where'er the winds might list! ' 1 " For, as hedroptone evening with, the stream, Out past the ,pier-lieart to his anchored sloop, He saw a maiden lovelier than a dream O'er violet eyes saw golden lashes droop; Saw tbe red sun on silken tresses shine, V On oeach-solt cheeks and litis of rosy bloom. And fancied be beheld some shape divine That beamed upon him in the gathering glooni. Ah, sweet! ah, sore! the anguish and the joy Wbeu b'rst the soul's chords thrill to passion's band! ' - With heart that almost burst for bliss, the boy Let fall the oars and drifted from the land. A summer visitor, that lovely maid. Who thus had bound poor Richard's heart ber thrall , , ; One of those summer sojourners who paid ' Tbetr tteetiug visits to the hamlet small. He learnt her name; and she was far above . , , The bumble fisher's wildest, fondest dreams, But nil in vain he strove against the love That tilled his brain with visionary schemes. , -' He never spoke of that deep wound he bore,' " But grew so pale and thin and heavy eyed, That, watching him, his motheT's heart grew sore , To note how oft he sadly mused and slgbed; ' "' '" For restlessness bad -seized him and the land Seemed hatefnl evermore, by night and, day, . Aud when he was uot straying On the strand' ' He hoisted sail and stood to sea away. -At length he sold the "Little Commodore,". The boat thateained tbeir living on the sea, And gave his mother half the price for store, And then to seek his fortune oft went he : . 111. : " ; - : Time passed. .The poorold mother, left alone, Waited and watched for years; then falling ill, She died; but on her grave the humble stone. - Still watched from the green graveyard on the hill Still looted to sea wild, storied with her name , Still gathered tbe salt dews, iu if for tears, . . t 80 that her son, if e'er he thither came -T' " ' " Alight know his mother kept her watch for years. But he had gone wbeu Columbia's fleet "- Had need ef sailors: When cruel war ' j - - ' Trod grimly on, nor paused, save but to greet . - - - "-"' " With joy a nation's wail that echoed near and far. And Richard gained promotion; for his skill, v -. .' And steady hearins won him credit great,' 80. when there was the Vacant post to fill, Without delay bis captain maaeUilm mate. J Within bis heart two women's memories dwelt. Through every, w'stch they jw.eil with him the ship; And when to heaven in hum file prayer he knelt, Two women's names were last upon his lip; His mother's name and hers, who used to make Great deeds seem small made danger seem unknown. For ha hart sworn to perish for her sake, Or win a fame she would not blush to own. And Kiehard wrought for many a weary day --. ! , ;i And gained renown, at last, upon the gory deck Of his small culterwhen it, the victor, lay Between two Southern gun-boats each a wreck! . And all the officers had fallen and he, The mate, had fought the craft alone, A ud fought so well, the fleet all cheered to see The cutter with her prizes overgrowu. IV. . Back to that little village on the coast. Poor Richard hastened, with a pride sincere, , To tell bis storv not for vulgar boost But joyous news to glad a mother's ear, i That for" his long, long absence would atone! He souglit the well-known cot, but where watthef , , Ue found an answer on the cold, grey stone ' That in tbe whidy'graveyard watched the sea. Then memory of the other loved one came; His heart grew cold to think. "Was she, too, dead?" Bnt brain and breast seemed filled with living flame w , To learn that she was living and was wed! Thus all the light died out or Richard's life, A 9 dies the light on far horizon-rim, When leaden clouds, with rain and tempest rife, , Brood o'er the deep, and all the day grows dim! And morn and eve be loitered on the shore, ; ! .! . . Without npurpoe3,!lke a man distraught. , . Man v were living he had known of yore, And yet companionship of none he sought I , j. , But when the wlntercame wilhhowlingwiud, And land and water met in angry strife, Then Richard roused himself and seemed to Uud In other's perils some new use for life! Whene'er the minute guns with hollow boom Proclaimed some hapless vessel, tempest-tost, ; . .. . Was driving headlong on the Reef of Doom Where no aid coining she must soon be lost; Richard was foremost of the rescuing crew, - , , Despite the waves that threatened to Verwhelm? ' Pnsheil oft' to sea among the gallant few And took the post of danger at the helm. , . ,1 ,- V. , . . One night 'twasXewYear's Eve while tempest shrieked ' - Tbe boat put-, forth to aid a vessel soon to strike On Doom's tlarW Reel ami ocean, vengeance wreaked Upon the wrecked and rescners alike; J '. The lat was. dashed against the vessel's side And shattered stove Bank with her weary crew; Then, while tbey battled with the boiling tide. The ship heeled over groaned and broke in two! ' Thev drew poor Richard forth upon the sand, m, , Worn ont with struggling in the yeasty waves, For be had borne a burden to the strand, 7 ' " i - Though now they both seemed fit but for their graves ! But Richard was a man aud iron-nerved. And so, with care, he came to life ere long; Rut she was dead' whom he bad fain preserved- A woman ! women are so seldom strong, - And this was one as delicate and fair A bindweed blooms, that perish at a touch, ,. With soft blue eyes and silken, golden hair Death has no need for violence with such. B ut when poor Richard, staggering to his feety ! 1 Crossed to the couch, that pallid face to see, , . flis lips grew ivhite4-tis faint heart ceased to beat His blood was turned to water it was she! , . , 6tae, the beloved ! Thus after years they met, Too late, too late, by chance together thrown , w . , Richard the man who never could-fbrget; - And she the woman who had never known. He laid her in tho little, quiet grave, Beside his mother, looking o'er the sea, ' - Within the bearing of the restless wave.' ' , ; aiiehe-, to6,loprd Jils rest at last would be ! And sware an oath that ne'er again, In caiiu or storm, by day light .or lu gloom, . - Should an) euip inat sailed upon tne main, '" , iieet her destructionon, ttw Vee fiLVpami J. , Wherefore he built the tower on the cliff, And lit tbe lamp, and watched it, day aud night, -So that no vessel ,may be wrecked tbptsylf . t , 1 The skipper does bu steer her by 'Lorn Light. ' TABIR Of COXTEXT. First Pags. Camtr'i Andre J M Awry o Xor lgkf TUmAa Ettate .Serial tiek a Thonyht Tko Prayer Gauge Melange Secosd Paob. Editorial Pnrnjraph '. . . Hook, and l'ajr . . . Xir of the Meet. ... Thikd Paoe. Strangeri1 Guide Mujritte 2ifectWjf.. Jjtrutl JTetes Amony Our XeiyhlW'rt . : Market, Jloiue aud Farelyt.. ForsTH Page. The 1'itgrateul Daughter ReliaUatu Xew. AyrivultHral Practical Mints... .Ihe.ntore Arnold .....V. !" World Selected ... . VoiHjiHation . M. T. Caldor ..Voiupil'ltioii . CfmtpiUttiOH . Compilation The Banks Estate. BV THEODORE AESOI.D. chapter r. i It A 5 '. V klJ3 HERE was not iu all the Forest 'fy&&f Cy a wore respectable family doctor was a arentlenian, and the son of a gentleman. He had been educated at llowdoin College, and had finished Ins professional studies at Paris ; and lesilc5 these advantages of cultiva tion, he was a man of talent, and, with out being too venturesome, of enter prise. Indeed, in the doctor's early days, it had licen hinted that he was sometimes so carried away ny scieuunc zeal, and by a desire to rival the discov eries of his French friends, as to put in danjfer the lives of his patients by the experiments which he tried on them. whether mat was true or not, at tne time of our storv it had become a tale. of the past, and the doctor had set- tied into a quiet and sale practice, keening tin with the march of discov ery, but no longer attcpinting to lead it. Younger men nnu come up to win tne 1 laurels for which he luul striven in vain : and half In weariness; h-ilf in bitterness, he withdrew from the arena. Doctor Siiyhroke's marriage had been worthy of his character anil position. Mrs. Saybroke was a haughty, high spirited, accomplished woman, who uev- er forgot that her grandfather had been lor years tne governor ot nis native State, aud that her father had lived on the interest of his property, even after, j by, inn unfortunate investment, the greater part of it had been swept away, leaving him with six unmarried (laugh-, ters on his hand, and a yearly income of less than two thousand dollars. Three of the Misses Baxter were engaged at the time of their father's reverses, and the other three were not long in getting husbands. "My sisters never felt the change in poor papas fortunes," Mrs. oayoroice would say J "for before we were able or obliged to reduce our establishment, they all married rich men. But I have had nothing but poverty eyer since." To this lauy, Drougut up to every lux ury, poverty was to live in a street where the houses joined each other, in stead of having gardens between, to have but one servant besides the little boy from the poorhouse, who answered the door-bell, to be obliged to make over last year's dresses, and hash over the remains of yesterday's dinner, aud to have no carriage. or ooctor sayDrowe, in spite of his talent, had never made a fortune., anu tne modest mansion in which thev set up their first housekeep ing was the one they still lived in when their hair began to grow gray. The only difference was that some improve ments and some additions had been made, and that they owned instead of hired it. But there was a worse skeleton m the Saybroke household than the being obliged to do without a carriage and wear last year's dresses, t or rue first time in the history of either family, one had been born into it who was a discredit to the name; and that one was the doctor's only son. George Saybroke had all the pride of Uis niotner, wttnour. ner nign miiHledness, and all the fastidious taste of his father, without his lather's inde pendence and energy. They naa cranipeu themselves to five him an education, bnt at twenty-five lie had not chosen a profession, but still lounged about home, dissatisfied,' extravagant, arrogant and dissipated. Why should he drudge at a profession wnen ne nau a score or so 01 rich relations r " The world owed him a living, Mr. George Saybroke thought. There was that old curmudgeon of a banker Banks, as the young man named his fathers cousm.wny uiunt negive mm a lift? They were the old man's near est, relatives, ana it was a snanie ior mm to be rolling in wealth while they were at the very brink of starvation ? Young Mr. Saybroke was always at tne DrinK of starvation when he could not pay or eet" trusted for a champagne supper. But of course they would inherit the banker's nropertv ; and meantime he would wait. It was a heartache, on account of this son, which Mrs. saym-oue vcncci witn a thin tissue of complaints concerning their narrow circumstances, and which the doctor strove to cover by making sarcastic observations on the sudden conversion of the ladies from allopathy to homoenathv since the advent ot a dashing young doctor, whose motto was similia similiOus, etc. It was that which made the mother sterner in her pride with everv passing year, and streaked her black locks with silver before the finger of age had touched them; and it was that which hail taken the courage out of his father's heart. They had built great hopes on their sou, and he had disappointed them all. Cut thev were not without comfort. Coming and going in the house, like a sunbeam in a shady place, was the sweetest girl that ever breathed. At twenty years of ago Edith 8ay broke was at the point of perfection. Beautiful, fresh, loving, cheerful, she almost made amends, by going far beyond the family standard, for her brother's falling so far below it. it, was sne who won 1 10111 ncr parents a smile when they had thought that they never could smile again; it was sli8 Wlio stood between them and their son without incurring the anger of either, but making peace when the patience ot tne parents was nearly ex haustedi it was she who tried toper suade them that George was only sow ing his wild oats, and would, after a wliihvsober down to be all that they could wish; and it was again she who tried to coax, and reason, andshame her brother into veryfying the promises she made lor him. George Saybroke was not entirely without good qualities, and there were tunes when he would listen to his sister' arguments and half resolve to mend h life. . But he was weak, sclush and vac- illati ig, and the only result of these ef forts was the renewed disappointment of those who had hoped and tried. From his parents the j-oung man would never listen to expostulations Still, in spite of this drawback, what we have said is true, that there was no family more respected than ,the Say- brokes.' Much of the young man's fchort-comings was hidden by his family ami connections; and what was known, they were not held responsible for. The doctor and his wire and daughter made the acquaintance of every uerson of any note who visited their city, and 'entertained with exquisite taste, if not with magnificence.' Visitors were often less pleased with a grand dinner at Mrs. Melville's', Mrs. SaybroWo's sister, than with a supper at tho doctor's, where flowers took the place of silver and gold plate, and fruit was offered instead of French dishes. Besides, botli the doc tor and his wife knew) how to converse in an interesting manner; they were hospitable, and had a tlfojieawV- devices to amuse a guest; and with all hcrsweet ness,' Edith was not insipid. Visitors yery seldom saw Mr. Gc6rge. ' "Mamma," Edith said oue day, as they sat waiting for the doctor to come in to tea, do "you suppose that M Banks would do anything towards settiug George up in business?" 'Certainly not !" Mrs. Saybroke said, decidedly, looking at her daughter in surprise. "In the first place, he knows nothing about George, and would not help him if he did;' and in the second place, George will never consent to go into business." Edith had been sitting for some time silent, looking dreamily out the window, witn tne sott Mav sunset iu tier beauti ful face. Even in speaking, she had not removed her eyes from the rosy west 1:1 which her thoughts seemed to lie tinting themselves; but as her moth er answered, she looked round. "O yes, mammal" she said, eagerly. I have been talking with George this fternoon, and he said that if he had a dry-goods store, he would trade. Of course it isn't what we would have wished, bnt it is bettor than nothing." 31 rs. Saybroke sighed. "It is outof the question, child. But if it were not, cannot you see what it would end in? George would have Jerks behind his counters to take the money, and he would stay outside and pend it. He would never attend to the business." 'But he says he would," the girl per sisted. "And mightn't we try him?" 'Why, Edith," her mother said, in surprise, "you are talking nonsense! You speak as if we had the money for such an experiment." "But Cncle Banks, mamma." says Edith, with unrullled gentleness. "I said lie might help." "Do you see any signs ot it ? ' asked Mrs. Saybroke, with some bitterness. She was not fond of this same Uncle Banks. "I might write to him," says Edith. "Xever, child, never !" exclaimed Mrs. Saybroke, almost angrily. "I for bid it! What could have put such an nsane idea into yonr mind ? I thought you had more self-respect." Kditli dropped her eyes, blushed and was silent a moment. 'You must see the impropriety of this my dear," the mother went on more gently. "We have never been friends with Air. Banks, lie was a poor man when I married your father ; and not nly poor, that could not be helped, but lie was not a gentleman. He was rude, and fancied himself independent; he was uneducated, uncultivated, utterly unpolished, and prided himself on it. When my father lost his property, Mr. Banks had the audacity to offer himself to your Aunt Edith, and she refused him disdainfully. From that moment he hated our family. Think of his fancy ing that reditu would accept a husband when she was poor whom she would not marry when she was rich ! It was in solent! It was making all our pride and our position depend on wealth ; and that was what we thought least of." "But, mamma," Edith said, "he was papa's own cousin, and so had some po sition." '"That is true: otherwise we should not have been acquainted with him," Mrs. Saybroke replied, lifting her head haughtily. "But when your father's aunt married Mr. Bank's father, her family were indignant, and almost dis carded her. They thought that she had lowered herself, and so she had. He was a nobody. She "was a simpleton, but she was pretty and accomplished, and, with her position, could have made a good match. But she must try a ro mantic young clerk, and try love in a cottage. The cottage they kept, and never had anything better; but it was uot long before love flew out the win dow. They were both dead when their son began to succeed in business. I didu't know before that Aunt Editli refused him," the girl said, cloud ing over a little. "In that case, it would of course be indelicate to ask him to assist Aunt Edith's nephew." And besides that," Mrs. Saybroke continued, "he was so rude after he was refused, and said sucn insolent things about pride and poverty, that he did not spare him. I don't think that he will ever forgive some things I said to him. He is uot a forsriving man, my dear, and I am in no way disposed to repent of my offence. 1 told him that only a vul gar person made use ot the expression nrnle and oovertv" witn a sneer, ior only a vnlsrar mind could take fori granted that pride was dependent ou wealth, men oeiore ne naa time 10 re ply, I turned my back on him and walked away. I never saw him again till he was a rich man. and then lie came down here for no other purpose,! really lielieve. than to make a parade of his wealth. So allusion was maae to tne past. I was coldly civil, and he was cross and sarcastic. I think he took de- lish.t in seeing that we were poor. It would afford him the last gratification to have us beg of him." "O. I see that it cannot be done." said Edith, sorrowfully. "But," she added, after a pause, "if his feelings arc like that, of course he wouldn't leave papa anything if he should die." "Your father is as old as Mr. Banks, and uot so healthy," Mrs. Saybroke said, But Mr. milks always pretenaea to think a good deal of him, even while Imtiusme. There is no knowing what he might do. We are his only rela tives." On the Saybroke side, mamma, Edith said. "But on his father's is there 110 one?" Mrs. Saybroke saw her husband com ing, nn the street, anu rose to oruer tea "There were some people, a oeneve, she reelied. negligently, arranging her head dress before tne mirror. "What is their name?" inquired Edith looking up up at her mother with just a flitting thought that though pride be came that stately form aud still nana some face, gentleness became them yet more. "Their name is Rolierts, I think. But wiiat in the world do you care, Edith ? What can they be to you ? Ot course vou recollect that they are no relation tons, and that we do not acknowledge the connection even. They are very common isli sort ot people, 1 believe Even Mr. Banks, leveller as he was, was offended at his sis sister's marriage and wouldpiave nothing to dojwith her afterwards. She followed in her silly mother's footsteps, aud married sonic adventurer or other. But here is your father, dear." Edith started up, aud a smile chased the slight cloud from her face. With light step she tripped across the room and opening the door into the entry, saw her father just hanging up his hat and cane "O papa!" she called out, brightly. He glanced round and smiled. "Yes, Edie." But she saw that his manner was not quite so hearty as usual. Perhaps he was tired. Maybe he was anxious about some patient. She would not seem to mind. The doctor went to yards the sitting. room, stopped in the door to kiss his daughter's cheek and give her a pat 011 the shoulder, then entered the room with her leaning 011 his arm. "Mamma, allow me to present Doctor Saybroke," the girl said, with great cer emony, "Papa, this is Mrs. Saybroke." "Silly child!" said the mother, smil ing. "Will you tell Tommy to call George. Conic to tea now, doctor; Yon must be hungry. We tire half an hour late." Doctor Saybroke : went towards the table, but his eyes followed his daugh ter with a look 'half fond, half regretful, and lie sighed as his seat. The doctor was an elegant looking man, tall, slight, with a clear, thin, gen tlemanly face, whose only fault was too much pride. But he had a very pleas ant smile, and it came back again as Edith re-entered the room.Hnd took her scat at the table beside htm". . In a few minutes a careless, lounging step was heard, and tho door opened to give admittance to Mr. George Say broke, who entered in dressing-gown and slippers, and accompanied by an at mosphere of ciar smoke. He had spent that whole afternoon reading a novel and smoking cigars, seated tilted back in au easy chair, with his feet out the chamber window. But for a heavy, swelled look about the eves, and an air and expression of intolerable laziness and listlessness, he would have been rather a handsome young man, with some look of his father, except that the features were not so finely cut, and the complexion was darker. A slight shade seemed to settle upon the faces of the three when lie entered the room, that involuntary clouding which tells that the coming influence is an unpleasant one. But- Edith smiled again almost immediately, and spoke to her brother. "We have got just what you like for tea, George," she said, "spiced beef and muffins. See what beautiful slices A nne cuts. I don't see how she does it." That was her way always some triv ial little pleasant 'word to bring har mony about and avert unpleasantness. The young man made no reply. He always took those things carelessly. His father glanced at him with a "frown. Doctor Saybroke was a gentleman, aud as polite at home as he was abroad, and he was displeased at the sight of his son's careless toilet and lounging man ners. Neither Mrs. Saybroke nor her daughter ever appeared at the table- in dishabille; and to the husband aud fa ther the dressing gown and slippers, tbe tobacco scent aud the tumbled hair, ap peared a mark of disrespect to theui as well as to him. He was particularly ir ritated at that time, and took notice of wtiat at almost any other time he would have passed by. "Have you been so driven by business this afternoon, sir," he demanded, "that you had not time to brush your hair be fore coming to the table?" - The young man immediately assumed a hard expression, looked stolidly down into his plate and said nothing. Mrs. Saybroke looked cntreatingly at her husband, and Edith tremblingly watched her brother. There was nothing that those two women dreaded so much as a conflict between George and his father. This time the doctor took no notice of their looks. Do you hear me?" he exclaimed, angrily. "When I speak in my own house, I am to be nuswered." The blood rushed swiltly into the young man's face. I'll answer you when you ask a civil question,'-' he replied, insolently, but without looking up. o ueorge!" exclaimed both mother and daughter. Then, "Don't say auy more, doctor !" entreated his wife. ".Leave the table!" thundered the doc tor, half rising. 1 he son hesitated and glanced at his father. The doctor started out of his chair. George, obey your father !" cried his mother. 'O papa, papa!" cried Edith, in ter ror, cling to her father's arm. The young man rose with an air of careless scorn insufferably insolent, pushed his chair aside with his foot, and strolled towards the door. I'll thank you, mother, to send my supper up to my chamber," he said, witn tne air ot a lord. "She will do nothing of the sort, you puppy!" exclaimed Doctor Saybroke. It you have any supper here to-night, vou will eat in the kitchen with the servants!" The young man turned at the door with a face pale with anger. "iou'd better go out there yourself," he stammered. "You have just about their style of manners." Doctor Saybroke was a verv proud and a very high-tempered man, and lie had very strict ideas as to the respect due to parents from their children. There is no knowing what might have happened if Edith had not held her father, and if George, after his insulting speech, had not immediately gone out 01 tne room. The doctor was not a strong man ; but, nerved by passion, his hand might have given a powerful blow, and it was evi dently with the intention of striking ttiat he started forward when nis daugh ter held him back. A blow, even it uu- returued, would have destroyed their last hope. There would nave been atter that no chanee of reconciliation. And what if George should Strike his father back? When the door closed after her son, Mrs. Saybroke returned to her seat at the table from which she had risen, and began pouring ont the tea. Her face was very pale, but she controlled lier self and sat perfectly quiet. She was not a woman given to weening and hys terics. Besides, she was displeased with her husband. It seemed that he had needlessly commenced the dispute; for, however improper George s toilet aud manners were, they were 110 worse than they often had been without his father's making any comment on them. But Kdith had not her mother's self- control, and had not anger to support her. She sank into a sofa near the door aud burst into tears. Doctor Saybroke seated himself at the table, and stretched a shaking hand to take the cup his wife passed him. "Kdith, will you come to your sup per?" said her mother, almost sharply. Kdith immediately oneycci, wiping her eyes as she did so. "I know that George will lie sorry tor having spoken so, papa," she said; "but I am afraid he won't apologize. 1 know that he will be sorry, papa." And she looked at her father with entreating eyes, that tilled up again witn tears as fast as she wiped them away. The scamp : exclaimed tne doctor, iu a trembling voice. "The presumptu ous insolent puppy! He shall beg my pardon, or leave tne house. 1 nave mind to turn him out as it is." " I must sav, doctor," said his wife, rather coldly, "I do not understand what made you take notice of George's hair just at this particular time. You have otten seen him iook as careless, anu made no comment." "Because I bear much, am I to ber everything?" demanded thedoetor. "Do you think that I get used to living with a fellow who lias the manners of a boor? Indeed not! I bear as long as I can. but I become more and more irritated at every provocation. I am resolved that there shall be an end to this state of things. He's got to go to work and support himself." "O papa," interposed Editli, eagerly, "he and I were talking ft over to-day aud he said he would go into business 1 he had some one to set him up. And we thought that perhaps Mr. Banks ' "Set him up!" exclaimed the doctor with angry scorn, "lie is very grand indeed. Most men who go into busines begin at the beginning and work up but this young man must liegin at the top, it seems. He is too lofty a being to start as some ot our merchant prince; have, as a clerk. He can't stand behind the counter, I suppose. He must lie at the head of a firm, and let other people furnish the money and do the work." Edith was silent. What her father said was but too true; but in the satis faction with which she had hailed her brother's first expression of willingness to do anything, the presumption f his expectations had escaped her notice. "Aud as to Mr. "Banks," her father went on, "that ridiculous expectation of his is ut last put quite among the im possibilities, aud I am glad of it. His expecting anything from Mr. Banks was always au ab-urdlly, and it has helped to make a lazy dog of him. I can fancy Mr. Banks, who began his career as a clerk with four hundred dollars a year, and lias worked himself up every step of the way since, I can fancy him set ting up a fellow like that In business! If such a thing had been inked of him, he wouldn't have been able to believe that the request Was not a ioke. If lie were to get such a letter, he would think that it must have been written on on All-Fool's day. Besides, Mr. Banks has chosen his heir." A deep red flushed Mrs.Savbroke's pale face at this announcement. In spite of all that she had said, there had been in her heart a faint and unacknowledged hope that at some rime her children, if not herself,- would profit bv the large. fortune to which, though thev had no real claim, they were the natural heirs, according to her reckoning. With "her "those Roberts people" counted for nothing. Now that her faint expecta tion seemed likely to be utterly disap pointed, she.first realized that "she had expected anything. V hat is it, papa ? Whom has he chosen? How do you know?" asked Edith, leaning on - the table and clasp ing her little hands, utterly oblivious of supper. Doctor Saybroke drank his tea. He had so many times eaten his bread in bitterness that he had learned not to fast for sorrow, though Jhis food might choke mm. I have Uot a letter from niv cousin." he said, then, looking at his wife. "I am free to confess that it is a very disa greeable letter ; but I have no right to complain of it. He has become recon ciled to his sister since her husband's death, and sent for her to go aud live with him. It seems that she was left iu very indigent circumstances. She has lost all her children except the eldest son, or my cousin says he wouldn't have ber 111 ins house, lie doesn t want young ones about, he says, and he wouldn't have had her either, but that her son is going into the army. It icems the young man has just finished his education, which he has got by his own exertions, and goes into the army because his mother was in need, and the bounty offered is a large one. As soon as he enlisted, his uncle promised to take care of the mother. That is a son worth Ijaving. Ha says that he isn't afraid of getting killed; he feels as though he has a good many years of life yet before him, and that he has been so many years studying that he is glad to te knocked aoont a little and hard ened before he begins life deliberately. He must be a manly fellow. Banks says that he is, and he is hard to suit." "And he writes that he is going to make the voung man his heir?" asked Mrs. Savbroke. returning to the onlv point that interested her. "Yes; but tie tells me in confidence. He thinks that it would perhaps injure the young man to know that he had such prospects." "Ana lor wnataoes he put himself to the trouble of writing all these partic ulars to you ? announcing the good for tune of people who are nothing to us. and whom we have never seen?' asked Mrs. Saybroke, indignantly. "mat is tne very point, wife," the doctor said, dropping his knife and lean- ng back in his chair. "Mr. Banks has heard from some quarter or other that George was counting on having his property, and he wrote to let me know that his expectations were vain. He wrote, and very justly too, that, he thought it best that George should know at once that he had nothing to expect from him, as he might then go to work for himself. He said that he would never give a dollar to a young man who sat down at home and let his old father supporthim. It seems that he knows ill about George, lie says that a he were au independent, industrious you no; man, he would help him; but that he never earned money to spend on idlers.'' 1 think that he might have confined his remarks to the announcement that he had to make, without giving an un- iskcd opinion regarding tne character and conduct of my son," said Mrs. Say broke, haughtily." "But it is all the del icacy ami good manners 1 suouiu ex pect of him, to write to a father a letter of gratuitous abu.se of his own son." "It s none ot his business what George is!" cried .P.,! lit n, with quick, girlish anger. "O little puss, don t get. your claws out too quickly," her father said, look ing at her flushed cheeks with a taint, sad smile. "He has done you a good turn. He sends me a check for a thou sand dollars to be kept for an outfit for you when yoivmarry ; aud if you marry any one who suits him, and if the young man should be without property, he will give you to begin life, a house as good is your "lathers is." "1 wont nave tne money or the house : " cried the young girl, promptly. "He needn't abuse my brother, and then give me a present, need he, mamma?" "Well, my dear," tne mother replied. hesitatingly, "You had better not be hasty." Mrs. Saybroke was prudcut, and care fully anxious regarding her children's future ; and vexed as she was with her husbaud's cousin,shc was in no wise dis posed to reject his bounty for her daugh ter, s "Mr. Banks did no more than 1 would have done in his place, the doctor said, gravely. "He meant. I presume, that George should read the letter, and see the light in which he is looked upon, and how much lie lias lost uv bis mis conduct. It will be a good lessou to him. If it does him no. good, then I do uot know what will be of use." They rose from the table, having scarcely tasted their supper, and Mrs. Savbroke was about leaving the room. if you are going upstairs, will yon take this letter?" her husband said, of fering it. - She hesitated. "Du you think it best?" she asked, doubtfully. "1 do not want to make him any more angry than he is. 1 think the knowing that lie has absolutely nothing to expect win be enough." 'And 1 think, wile," the husband re plied, impatiently, "that you and Edith coddle that fellow altogether too much. 1 tell you he's got to suiter before any thing will be made of him, and you stand continually between him and the consequences of his deeds. Moreover, after his outrageous conduct of this evening, I don't think that vou ought to go near him at all." She hesitated still. She was not woman to obey a husband's commands, and the doctor was not one to command his wife; but she always received from him and gave to him a scrupulous re spect, particularly In the presence of their children, and she did not like to act contrary to his expressed wish. "You can of course do as vou wish," lie said; "but I think that your going up now tocoax him will be a disrespect to me." "Then of course I will not go," sb.o replied, immediately. "But, doctor, you mistake my errand. If 1 coaxed hi 111 at all, it would lie to induce him to hum ble himself to vou as he ought. You know I never taught your children to in suit you, and George s faults hurt me ns much as they do yon.' Here her voice faltered, aud tears rushed into her eves. "I know it, wife," the husband said hastily. - "Go if you .wish to. I dare say it is liest, and I know that you won't sav anything that Isn t right." He opened the door for her, and held It w hile she went out, trying to smile encouragingly as she looked at him with ber tcarlul eyes. "That is the worst of George's mis- conduct." ho said, lurtfuijf back Into the mum wlioii she had gone. "It is the cause of mittiiidcrsUunliiigK between the rest of us. One .bad member in a 1'atii ily is a firebrand among fuel." ' "But wo luiuii't let it lie a firebrand papa," sahl Kditli, wiping her-eye. "And 1 inusn'l let my little girl spoil her eyes for other iieople's sins," the doctor sn hi. ti'vlmr to sneak checrfnllv ".Now, how about the marriage portion which mis arrived r is trie iiusbad roady?" "O gracious, no. papa!" cried the girl, a smile and a blush blooming through her tears. 'Well, don't be in a hurry. I'll put the money out at interest, and when anv one asks you, tell him that he must wait till yonr fortune hasgnown." inn giricmnea roguishly."; "I'll tell him, papa, that I haven't in terest enough to marry him." TO BE rOXTtXCED. 1'lfK AS THOIGHT. BV W. l. HaJ l Up to a very recent date it was uui ersally believed iliac sensory impres sions were transmitted to the brain, and that the voluntary impulse jreturned with the speed of lightning. The time necessary for these phenom ena to take place was believed to be in finitely small, iu fact. nil. Some uhvsi- ologists declared that this point could never be determined by science. In 1845, Du Bois-Ileymond devised a series of experiments, which, in 1850, was car ried out by Ilelmholtz, who had the honor of falsifying the above prediction : and since then, Valentin, Donncrs. Airsoh, and Hipp, and Maver. repeated and simplified the method of operation. In all these researches the plan was followed of exciting a nerve in the vi cinity of the muscle which it supplied, and determining the lapse of time le twecn the irritation of the nerve and the contraction of the muscle which re sulted from it; then exciting ttie nerve at a jKiint more distant from the muscle, and determining how much longer con traction was retarded . The difference was, of course, ex plained by the greater distance that the nervous agent had to traverse iu tiie second case, aud indicated the rapidity' with which the nervous imnulsc was transmitted along the nerve upon which the operation was performed. This en abled us to determine the absolute rapid ity of the transmission. Helmholtz found that, to traverse a nerve 1.6 inches long, the nervous impulses required 0tXu7o ot a second, which corresponds to a rapidity of about 23.68 yards per second. The rapidity is subject to some ariation from the circumstances of the particular case. This remarkable result paves the way to the study of the physical action. "Has thought the infinite speed which is usu-1 ally attributed to it?" asks Donders; "or will it be possible to measure the tune necessary for the formation of an idea. or for a determination of the will ?" j The first researches on this interest ing subject arc due to astronomers. About the year 14'.JU, Maskelyne dis covered the furious fact that there was a constant and equal discrepancy be-1 in cru 111s uosei vnuuiia w uic passage u the stars across'thc thread of a meridian telescope, and those of his assistant, Kin nebrock. This attracted the attention of other astronomers ; and Bcsscl, com paring the observations ol others with his own, found that most observers sig nalized the passage of a star a little later than he did himsclf,the difference some times amounting to more than a second. Other observers occupied themselves with the determination of this error, which is called the per$onal equation. Wolf, of the Paris Observatory, invented the following method of determining the personal equation : A luminous body was so arranged as to move in a curved line, like the arc described by a real star; and at the mo ment when" the centre of this artificial star was really opposite the thread of the telescope, it closed the circuit of a galvanic battery1, thus giving a signal of its passage. The observer, pressing a spring at the instant when he perceived its passage, thus left a second trace ou the same register. The interval between the two signals, estimated in fractions of a second, gives the time between the real passage of the artificial star and the perception of its passage by the obser ver, which is the exact value .of the per sonal equation. This value remains constantly the same for each observed. unless he attempts to correct it. won reduced his from threetenths to one. tenth of a second. distinguished : first, the distinction be tween different impressions; and sec ondly, the violation of an action chosen from among other actions. Donders attempted, by the following experiment, to. determine the separate duration of each of these operations : First Case The observer was in"I formed that vowel sounds would be enunciated, and was instructed to im mediately reproduce the sound heard. Second Case The observer was in structed to reply to only one vowel , for example and to keep silence when the others were enunciated. His endeavors, therefore, .were all di rected toward the recognition of (: his vocal organs being placed in au appro priate position, only the impulse of the breath was needed "to produce the cor responding sound. It is evident how much the sewoml term of the mental process is simplified under these conditions. This will, hav ing to do with but oue sound, acts, so to speak, instinctively, and the signal fol lows as elementary au act of volition a we can imagine. It should be observed that this operation requires less lime than the first; and this difference i? equivoleut to the time spent in the first case in distinguishing between the sounds. The minute fractious of a second which these processes employ arc not the less tangible. They can be as thor oughly appreciated as mouths and years; especially when multiplied for comparison with common standards. We have seen that the transmission of the will, in the shape pf nervous force along a nerve, is at the rate of something less than twenty-four yards second, or forty-eight miles and a half an hour; not much faster than an ordinary ex press" train. . THE rBAYEK-CSArUE:. This state of things is uot peculiar to astronomers. On tne coutrarv, it is universal. It may be said that a certaiu time always elapses between the instant when an act occurs, and that ot the sig nal of au attentive observer that he per ceives it. To explain this, Bessel and Faye have suggested the hypothesis of a mental operation necessary to express by a signal the perception of a sensa tion. This duration between the act aud the signal of perception has been termed the it tne ooserver s signal ot perception for instance, a motion of the hand, be always the same, it lias been observed .1 I. : ,1 1 , ' mill- 11 is iHvum-ci liioru ijitii-hiv wilt-u the act, of which it is the sign of recog nition, is perceptible to the ear than when it is addressed to the eye; and still more quickly when it is perceived by the sense of touch. The signal follows a visual impression in'onc-lifth of a sec ond, an audible impression in one-sixth ol a second, and a tactile impression in , oneseventli of a second, The physio logical periods, are, then, among them selves as the numbers one-fifth, one- sixth, and one-fourth. But tins period does not correspond solely to the physical action, but to the whole series wiitcu nas been previously recapitulated. These experiments do not Inform us in regard to the duration of though t, or even whether thought has a duration. The term thought is here restcicted solely to the physical action above, de scribed. Donders invented a series of experi ments which dispel our doubts. By de termining the different periods of simple and more complicated mental action, he also determined tiiat the greater time employed in the second case was used in the additional mental process induced by the complication. The details of the experiment, however, will give a clearer idea ot the point than any amount ot explanation : r irstt ase the observer was informed that that au clcotio shock would be given to his right foot, while lie was in structed to give the signal or his percep tion of it with his right hand. Second Case The observer was not informed which foot would be operated upon, and he was instructed to give the signal with the hand of the irritated side. The physiological period, in the sec ond case, was one-fifteenth of a second longer than in the first case,' It is clear, ill the other conditions being the same, that the difference represents the time necessary to perceive on which side the irritation had been exerted, and to di rect the action of the will to the right or left, according to circumstanoos. There fore, the solution of a dilemma reduced to its greatest simplicity is a mental act ol onc-nltecntn ot a second in duration Instead of exciting the sensation of touch, tne following experiments were made by visual impression : First Case The observer was in structed to move hi right hand upon the appearance of a while lighu Second Case Tho signal was lo be given with the right hand, upon I lie ap pearance 01 a wiiue light, ami with the loft if a red light iiiiiicarcil. Under these conditions the solution of the dilemma occupied a longer time than iu the lirst experiment. On the contrary. In the case of au auditory im prcitn, less tluio was employed than when the impj'ssion was received by the eyes. These differences may bo at tributed to 11 tendency produced by habit or escrciso, as in inn uso 01 tne rigm. and left hands. The .elementary mc.uUil processes which we have examined have not yet attained their utmost simplicity; and In the solution of the proceeding dilem mas, two operations of tbe mind ran bo Mrs. 'VVinfriiiiiham. a resiectahle wid owed gentlewoman of Sheffield, Eng land, while recently upon a visit - to some friends near Durban, in a north ern county, was taken to hear the elo quent acclamation ot 71 noted dissenting exhorter who had become particularly celebrated for his exaltation of the effi cacy of prayer. This favorite topic of his was the one he had chosen on the occasion in question ; and his earnest. vived manner of exnlalnlnsr that, in ad dition to its supernatural value, devout invocation" was a beneficent, magnetic energy, capable of the most wonder-' tui natural etlccts, induced the Sheffield lady to seek an introduction to him after the "meeting" for the especial nnrnose of relating a striking illustration from i ner own experience. Tne preacher, a ; man of refined and intellectual appear ance, and with a curious timidity in his manner, uearci tne anecdote with an in terest nervously disproportionate to its apparent consequence, and then after ; au awkward pause begged that its narra tor wo nut not again relate it in that place until ha should first have had op portunity to use it in the pulpit. In some surprise Mrs. wintringham ac ceded to the request, ultimately attrib uting u tome goou man's eccentricity, and the two did not meet again until they were once more speaker and hearer the sanctuary. Upon the latter occa sion tne suojeci ui exuui'Ktiion was again "the soul's sincere desire, uttered or un expressed," and the principal illustra tion, was as follows: "Four or five years ago," said the preacher with marked in tensity of mar.ner, "a lady living in an old-fashioned house in one of our .South ern counties discovered upon retiring to her room at about midnight, that there was a man concealed under her bed. All alone in the bouse, the lady knew not what to do. She feared to go to the door aud unlock it lest the bur glar should suspect that she was about to summon help, and should intercept her. To gain time she sat down and took her Bible from - her dressing-table. Opening the sacred book at random it so happened that the chapter lighted 011 was that containing the parable of the Prodigal Son. Kneeling down when the chapter was ended, she prayed aloud prayed earnestly and fervently. She besought safety for herself during the perils of the night, and cast herself in supreme confidence on the Divine pro tection. Then prayed for others who might have been tempted into ill-doing, that they might lie led from evil, and brought Into the fold of Christ; that to such might be vouchsafed the tender mercy and kindness promised to all who truly repent their sins. Lastly she prayed that, if lie willed it, even to-night some such sinner might be saved from MKLANGE, A hew pass has been found across the Andes, which is said to be 'audier than any other route. A colored Xorth Carolina clergy woman has been committed without bale for stealing cotton. Washington territory boasts a public library containing 351 volumes, "prin cipally Patent-ofticce reports." English orthodox advices report that the Ritualistic services wax scandalous to a greater degree every week. Iowa is rapidly coming to the conclu sion that murderers might better have their necks hemped than exhempt. Syracuse is trying to keep up its spirits against a threatened State Convention of Prohibitionists on the 15th proximo. Dartmouth College is preparing to elevate its lads to ladders and other gymnastic apparatus at an expense of .$24,000. A criminal gentleman : of Maryland, Plater by name, has been released from jail because the windows werent' glazed. Boston, having declined gifts from outsiders, is authorized by the Legisla ture to go it a loan to the extent of 20, 000,000. Constantinople has conceived the cheerful idea of building, in the cenie lerv at Pera, a new o-Pera-house, to cost 500,000. A charge of 25 cents for admission to church weddings iu Missouri furnishes a fund for the young couple to start housekeeping with. Another serious blow is given to the Philadelphia Centennial by the determi nation of Newark to establish a perma nent Universal Exposition. ' Nature - usually frees the corps of Southern California from any drawbacks but this winter she threaten ist of rceze hem in au unusual manner. Mr. Malam's picture of the "Marriage of Shakespeare" has been rejected by the Roval Arclueoloeical Society on the ground that it is Malatn in se. The colored population of Boston will convene at the JMeionan on Monday evening, to promote in some mysterious way the abolition of slavery in Cuba. The Cincinnati Bar Association, wish ing to avoid in its apartments obvious pun on bar-rooms, has resolved to abol ish alcoholic, .beverages from its fu ture meetings. A colored bootblack having accum- lated much wealth by polishing upper leathers, has turned his attention to souls, and presented a church to his brethren in l'errysburg. An English Court has decided that people who pin their faith on spiritual mediums instead of using the medium of their own senses are fit subjects for a lunatic asylum. The Northern Pacific Railway Direc tors say that to keep the snow of their track, although they havn't got to pay a cent for tribute, they must spend mil lions for a de fence. A Kentucky infant has been produced without any bones in its neck. That child should be carefully kept away from the water, as it was evidently uot born to be hanged. The latest ex-stream of fashion is watered silk with jet trimmings and flowintr train : coiffure hightied. More appropriate, one would say, for diving- belles than for land divinities. A sentimental tourist (we shouldn't be surprised to hear that he is an American) lias becu fined for cutting souvenirs de voyage from the tails of tbe horses in Queen v ictoria's stables. A Brooklyn contemiiorary wishes to "accentuate" the free-restaurant scheme ou foot in that city. It needn't trouble itselt on that score; a large class of the public will do the axiu' to ate there. The Yosgiau authorities are going to raise enough tax to put a few nails in house wherein Jeanne D'Arc was born, lest that mansion should go to Rouen, where the lieroine.ended her career. Jersey City is rather proud than oth erwise ol having ceerbro-spmai men ingitis, because there was a doubt ex pressed whether Jerseymen could have more than the spinal part of the disease. A couple of Japanese priests are in vestigating ( liristianity in Berlin, which is about the lat place anybody but a Jaiuiuese would go to for the purpose of getting anv practical ideas ou tiie mid-Jeet. A recently established lager-saloou In Boston is haunted by "a tall, headless figure in white.' It is supposed to be a native ghost which, being only accus tomed to domestic spirits, has lost its head on bier. Dulut.li vaunts over St. Paul the com parative mildness of its climate. .The thermometer ranges as high as 13 de grees below zero, and tbe inhabitants easily keep themselves warm by sitting with" their feet iu ice-boxes. The San Francisco Supervisors na turally hesitated about taying two bills of thc'medical exjierts who were engaged "to combat the plea of insanity" in Mrs. Fair's case-, on the ground that the service specified was not rendered. The Hoosac tunnellers exalt them selves over the exactness with which their converging bores have Joined in the middle. Considering the millious of money furnished them it would be strauge if they couldn't make both ends meet. An Iowa school boy recently killed his father for telling film to behave him self, and the average juryman can't make up his mind whether the provoca tion was sufficient to constitute justifia ble homicide or whether there was in sanity prepense. Springfield, Mass., talks of putting the numbers on its houses in the usual arithmetical successsion ; which the con servatives oppose as being a newfangled innovation on the time-honored custom of letting each householder put up any number he likes. -. A Massachusetts orator grandiloquent ly protests against having "our patriot soldiers' withered laurels laid at Mr. Sumner's door-step." Perhaps at this season of wintry winds the Senator would rather have green baize than withered lanirls to decorate his door witlitil. A Georgia paper announces the forth coming exhibition at the Savannah fair of "the three grown i(crsone known as Aligator Children," characterized by a scaliness of skin and a crawliness of 'lo comotion which induced a "Northern, showman" (was it P. T. B. f) to oner their parents $10,000 for tho lot. A few days ago the Governor of Ver mont made a ronuisition on the Gover nor of Massachusetts for a fugitive criminal named Shanks; but no sooner was the individual in question lodge-l iu a Vermont jail than he broko ont with the small-iox, and everybody in the neighborhood wishes that Shanks had becil allowed to jjive leg-bail, Tho friends of the confirmed valetu dinarians are frequently tempted lo wish tbeir exacting ward's were in Jeri cho, and the literal fulfillment of this wish seems likely to lie brought about by English physicians, who recom uieuded the town In question astheutost desirable, of health resorts tor person with Syrions affections of the lungs. Dubuque, Iowa i In the full tide of a religions "revival," one portion of which is the visitation of lager-beer sa- The lesson of the late tires scorns to be loons by amateur missionary parties of that i lie only really incombustible ma- ladles, " numbering among them some U'rials in the world arc those of which jlhe most fashionable, of city society are made the litct ion-matches which aud "earnest Christiana" of. the male oue finds In hotels. His to lie wished j iiorsuasion, who contribute to the harm that this hint may lead our architects to ! ony of the occasion by singing hymns to make cdl Sees on the same block some- which the German habitue add a eoiv thing more like match, 1 vlvial chorus. " the wrath to come, might, like tho Prod igal, bemadctosee that he had sinned, and might be welcomed hack with tbe joy that awaits even one penitent. The lady rose rose from her knees and "went to bed. The man got up as uoiselesslv as lie could and said: "I mean vou no harm, ma'am; I am going to leave the house and thank you for your prayer.' With difiiciilty he" opened the door, aud presently she heard himloiicn a window in another part of the house and drop down into uicganien." upon reaching tne apparent onu of tne narrative tnu speaker bowed his head for a moment, as In silent supplication, and then added in a broken voice, "The good woman of whonrT have told you is with us now and the sinner to whom her simple womanly nravcr was suainc. remorse. penitence, and a future of repentant ex piation is he who here confesses himself to you anu to his -Maker;" VP AI.ATAHI.E TUl'THS. An English member of Parliament named Lcatham was present at the open ing or a reading-room in a village near lltniilersueld. the other evening. Mr Leathain among other very sensible re marks made the following: "I don't wish to be hard on the working-men. I know their privations and their temptations; I know how little disposition there is for anything ex cept pleasure and amusement after a hard day's labor. Don't suppose that because "I happen to live iu a bigger house than you, I don't know what hard work means. 1 have worked with any brains for seventeen hours in a day, and you must permit me to tell you that it is as hard a day's work as the hardest day's reaping or weaving which you have ever done. I may claim, therefore, to lie a workingiuaii, and 1 must say 1 am ashamed and jealous of some things which I hoar nowaday about the workiiigtuen. 1 have gone about the oauntry like others advocat ing a wide extension of the sufl'ragc,and, like others, I have passed my word for the sobriety, honesty and intelligence of the great "mass of my fellow-countrymen. I don't repent a single word which I havo uttered. I don't retract a single syllable; but wiieu 1 hear nf men in the receipt of 30s. and 10s. a fceek pitching aud tossing their extra earn ings to the devil ou Sundays, and leav ing their sisters ay, tholr mothers iu some cases state of half-starvation upon the parish, 1 begin to ask myself whether these arc the men whose ideas of independence will promote the digni ty, and whose intelligence, exercised through the franchise, will advance the power and the splendor of England. 1 cling to every evidence of a higher d hotter state ot tecllng; 1 accept and wel come with Joy the" hearty and gener ous response which the promoter of this association have met iu llils neigh borhood as a proof of what l have always maintained that England's working cl:is Is still In its right-place !" o