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"LET US HAVE PEACE."
ALEXANDRIA ARISI OF RAPIDES, LA.- 3iisccelaneou0 s Selections. OU7'T OF TIHE DEPTHS. flY li n ToN '.iR *Y. I mahde my soul a song for her singing, tWhlat timt," the gltuaning was mellow with May, \nd the whit-'ring haireblells, their curfew rit tng, I "wellh the ,!ire of the dying day; ,l oa it ol the dlcpths of the splrit's passion I.o1, the gre.t itasntr, touched the keys, \1i tthe rhyme camie forth In the old, old fash ion. Iful fear, htalf hole-andl the words were thtre comni, my soul, let its reason together: Conte, for th shadows darken ahead; I I ire and sorrow tighten the tether, Life's -rn through the mists glows dim andt red. tome, ere the long, low light of the summer Fale to the brown of the autumn leaf; ( rone, lest the foot of the careless comer l.ay weary in paths made rough with grief. iIl., where thoughts like the white-winged angels Brood in the hush of this dim, dsak eve, lWhister to me thy sweet evangelst Whisper and ,igh, but do not grieve; uit if the depthl of thy charme~ chambers I:alse me a song that shall thrill afar; iindle thy fires, blow bright thine embers, I leam on her soul like the gleam of a star. ,atl, my soul, that hast walked thy journey, I hrouigh winsome vallehs, by height and soaur, N\ hose shield is dark frorn a noble tourney, W\those lance droolps low with tIh, weight of war, Look past von hills whose crest bright sunned is 1 itht the last fond glance that the dead day gites ; I " let the voice of thy De Profunditas Thrill to those' curts where no sorrow lives! tuIl, wilt thou love, where to love is losing? I, nig wilt thou wanuder in ways that err; t.Illy with hoples, that thy barren choosing t F indl fleeting as steps of a wayfarer. \ t11 thou not turn and say to her spirit I.o' I that love thee will love no more? Shis is a hard thing that we inhelrit. 'IT'o love and tt we'ep, to, thits is 'ore! n ,lt of the depiths of the heart's despairing d I t 'ies the long, iassionate cry of love; .1h, tali! but the cross is hard tor the bearing! (. Ah, God! for the rest and the wirfgls of the It dloves! Alt! that in that pure, faithful bosomn fhi" dim, lost haltf of my life might lie! r .\h! that the bud might lather the blossom! I 'hall these things be? Who knows? Not I. g1 Sit if the ,tlths of the starlit ,listance 'i \ t'i.le glamn shows where the moon comes tip, d . ' hIrc Itt the dregs of this strange existence Il 1Sqv lurk the sweetness that crowns the cup, It , ,I faith and hope and the spirit's patience "rin ugthen the heart and lighten the eyes. . soul! my soul! there Is ihope for the nations, a\d God is holy, and lust, and wise. .then; my song, speak swiftly to her; ,ng to hier, h plead with her late and long; I! , r around her, and gently woo her; It'haips sll, will hear thee some day, r) Song! I, tr ,it the deptlhs of the soul comres sorrow, tl ;ll ouilt of the depths of thlese days that cease, -'.y ,ime, like light round the feet of the mor- :t r\ew, w1 L.s -'s soft glory, our love's calm Iwace. -,lApplton' Journial. "I WILL IF YOU WILL." b Tho' Kay IHouse is a pleasant little hotel. a, -:.+hIu w half way upI) the side of a mount v i in New Hampshire. Int the parlor there, one July evening, ft '. r,, four people-Mrs: St. John and her h i ,,hAhter Elly, Miss Emily May and Mr. vI!l iturn. As Elly St. Jqgn went to the si 1 . .,, these two last slipped out onl thi i '' ,try.':and stool listening as Elly sunil: , ' ,iontd we forget, could we forget!. Si !i that Le.th,i were runnning yet, I hi past chiuld flade like at morning dream, Ihn a: single drop of the holly stream. th' wi know what you would say, Itut we are too, tired to hope or pray; hi I ,r, hurt with r'a--less jar and fret,. l,,ly and soul cannot forget.. 'I an they forget, will they forget E %'hen theyv shall reach the boundary set,- w \Wlhen with the intal pang anid strain I hy are parteld never to meet again? lier to them rsitall rest be given a -i n-eti s itn earth, or happy In hIeaven? i Ihb:t which has been it might be )et it we c.tuld only learn to fioret; It.t. the stars shall cease to rise and set, l u1 all from ]leaven ere we forget." hi Ellv sung with an intensity aid pathos ml iltc.h borrowed none of Its force from ia tithin, for she was a good-natured, in- w ,'ti.'tnet sort of a girl, who had p i rr had a trouble in her life. The I t: f mttsical expression is often quite in Ii ti'lp'ndent of feeling or experience. iT i.lly's music hurt Emily cruelly, and hi -tirr.il and roused the old sorrow which hi lit I ttilt just begun to fall asleep for a lit- at . She hal loved deeply and fondly a hi nrwtn who had grown tired of her and left 'l r. bt.aus, lie was greatly her inferior. rm Much ai- she suflered. I rejoiced when !'or enag,'onwtnt with Lewis Leighton re vi- broken. I had known Lewis from fa ,si< earliest childlhood, and I had always cc Fl-ikei~him as a selfish, conceited prig. w 'II Mi. s Mary married hint. her disap ,:ttitnet woitIhl have been unspeakably sh :,.rstirt than it was. As she leaned over bl; :,.deomny while Elly sung, and looked im ,,t into shadows and starlight, her heart hi was wrutng as with the ,irst anguish of t' loss, the sickening sense of her own bli'd th Iltlt itulation. "Oh (iltd !"' she said to her- £1 'fII. "when will thie bitterness of this "',ath , piast ?'" Then she became con- ye s:iasi thart Mr. Millbuirn was speaking 'i hulrr; Ibuit lhe h:ti1 more than halffinished g 'what hI' had to say before she realized that he was asking her to be his wife. ve He spoke at a very unfortunate mo- g titnt. lh' and Emily had been very t,_ol friends that summer. They had £f wait'l,.red in the woods, ascended Mount an Wa:shington, and bIeen to Glen Ellis to 'Othler. She had liked him, but she had be ,'ver dreamed fi him as a lover, and 'bi ,hin he presented hlimself in that light an lie was shocked, and startled, and a lit- sil le provoked. bil "Oh hush!" she said sharply. "It sei iver c' "- be-never '" wI .Do you then disliike' me so much ?" eaid Evert )liburn, trying very hard to ey " No." she said, making an effort to en 'ollhe't her thoughts. "1 have liked you m: -yitt ilave been good to me; hut all the wt "ye i had to give is dead antl buri d, and tit h ir is nit re'surrection." he He made no answer; but she felt that It( had hurt hitn. sh ft a r" an very sorry." she faltered; I nee- w' "I understand,"' he said quickly. " It hi i tit ne's fault bttt my own. Good- tr iht." And they touched hands and mi Erert went up to his room. where his i., Dick Bush, was sitting in the dark. so )' w : a boy of nineteen. He had been it his way U'rongh colltge, I m Sti We1la i w hilto'ehi out in theeffoCrt. I, Mr. Millburn hat brouihlt him to tite ( ti rtttjrn a for his v bation. I)itk made a sitl ' ",,it Evert, attd he had been mortally i w , ...-af id .Milibnrn. aflera little. I dr I" we will go over to the Glen to-mor-[, row." And then Dick understood the case, and i mentally abused Miss May as a "cold- I hearted' flirt," which epithet she did not i in the least deserve. I Evert and Dick went away early in the 1 I Smorning. Emily heard the stage drive away, and turned her face to her pillow, , and thought bitterly of the horrible per verseness of things in this world. t She knew that Evert was good and i manly, and sensible. He was in a hfair I way to win reputation at the bar, and, if not just handsome, was attractiv, and l gentlemanly. c " there are dozens that would be proud I and happy to accept his love; and noth- c ing would :o but that he must throw it away on me," thought Emily impatient- I ly. " But it's never worth while to pity t men very much. The' mostly get over n their troubles very ea-ily, if there is no a money lost." From which it may be in- i ferred that Miss May was perhaps a bit of s a cynic. Emily Msy lived with her mother. o in an inland town in New York. s She had a little property of her fi own, and, with what she could earn by her pen, she managed to dress herself, pay to for a summer's journey now and then, and keep her own house over her head. It was her way to look after her sick tl neighbors, poor or not to visit, now and 't then, at the hospital and the county house, a and do what her band found to edo. She ft made no fuss, and laid down no rules, and a' was under no ecclesiastical "direction" s] in particular; hbt I am inclined to think h s":e was as useful, and far more agreeable, vI than if she had made herself hideous in a s' poke bonnet, and committed mental h suiclie. ti When her holiday was over that sum- cl mer, she came home, and settled quietly h down to her work. tl She was busy at her desk, one day in October, when a carriage drove rapidly aº iup the street, and stopped at the door, and a' D)i'k Bush jumped hurriedly out, and o' rang the bell. Emily went to the door di herself, upon which l)ick's hurry seemed suddenly to subside; and when he came ti into thel parlor, he appeared to find great as dlifficulty in cxpressing himself, and Emi- to ly, greatly wondering, asked after hii to friiend Mr. Millburn. as Dick's tongue was loose.'. " Oh, Miss May," he said, with a shak- to ing voice. " Evert is dying." " Where? Hlow? said Emily startled,and at sincerely sorry. I Now Dick had been rather melodraniat- st ical.v iinclined. lie had meant to act like w the Ihero of a lady's novel, and administer ly a severely inflexible reproof to the woman c-c who had trilled with Evert; but in Miss at May's presence he found this plan imp:ac- I a ticable, and wisely refrained. h( " le went out shooting with a fool ('f a m boy, and he, the boy, tired wild, andl ca Evert was badly hurt, and fever set in , bl and, oh ! Miss May, he keeps asking thr you, and he won't he quiet; and the doc- pm tor said, if you could you ought to come, to for it might make a difference. There's b' his note. and Mrs. Miliburn's." se The doctor wrote, succinctly, that, con. sidering the state of the case, Miss Ma., 's m presence might possibly keep the patient re Slieter, which was all important. Mrs. bI Millburn's note was an incoherent blotted su epistle. beggajg this unknown young lady at to come, and tave her boy. as Emily could not refuse; her mother w hurried her off. anid in two hours she was In seated beside Dick, on her way to Spring field. 11ir reflections were not pleasant. lo Every one would talk, and suppose there w: was a romance. Elly St. John would be h. sure to know about it, and Elly was such w a little chatter-box; and to try to make a th mystery of the matter would be still eli worse. Then she had "nothing to wear." And how should she get along with Evert's dl mother and sisters? And who would take her Bible class on Sunday? And what was to become of her little book promised for "the spring trade ?" ha "I dare say it's all nonsense his want- ad ing me." she thought. "People never yc mean what they s:.y in a fever. I remem her Pat Murphy insisting that he would hib have a hippopotamus 'handyin the house;' in, and if Mr. Millburn comes to himself how wi horribly embarrassing it will be !" an On the whole, Miss May's feelings were ne rather those of vexation than romance. They rode all night, and when Emily an reached the door of the handsome eld- El fashioned house in Springfield, she was conscious cf "looking like' a fright," and no wished herself any where e 1e. as 'Ihe door was no so.oner opened than be she was embraced by a little old lady in yo black, and a pretty girl in an elegant morning dress. Both were in tears, and he had evidently been for some time on the sic verge of hysterics; and Emily at once -et roi them down as "the sort of women who are never of any use." "Oh, my dear! It is so good of you So ai very good of you!" said Mrs. Millburn. of "I am sure you will be his guardian an- t1 gel," said sentimental Hatty. Not at all. Mr. Millburn and I were very good friends, and I shall be very •lad If I can do him any rood," said sa Emily, in a very matter-of-course tone; and then the doctor made his appearance, th and begged her to come up stairs. us. "If he could be kept quiet, there might ma bea chance for him,"' mid the doctor; Ha 'but so much depends on nursing' and the doctor ended with an expressive uts silence. Evert was moasing and sob bing, and begging that some one would g send Emily May with "one drop of y water." ot The nurse, who, to Emily's critical eyes, hooked snythlng but capable, was ste fussing over him in a way that was he enough in itself to drive a sane person mad. Emily poured out a goblet of tir water with a steady hand, and as the ice it' tinkled against the side ofthe glass she t held it to his lip=. " There is water," she said, In her ordi nary sweet cheery voice. Now if you will try to be quiet, I will stay with you." She could not tell whether he recognized i, her or not, but the nervous feverish dis tress and excitement seemed in sonime measure to subside; and, after a time, he was completely quiet. te Now nursing a wounded man in a fever up soulnds very romantic in a novel; but, in cv, its real details, it is anything but a ro- a . mantic business. er. Emily May. at Evert Millburn's bed- ap 'ide. felt herself in an entirely false po sition; but she took care of him, for there was nothingelde tobe done. The nurse re went off in a huff with Miss May and the thl doctor; Mrs. Millbnrn and Hatty could del r- only cry and rustle about. and over:et things with their dresses. Evert would d' grow restless as soon as Emily left him, 1- so that the charge, In spite of herself, fell )t into her hands. Happily Mrs. Millburn and IIatty were e not .jealoul. On the contrary, they ad e mired Emily exceedingly, and were very , grateful andl affectionate. H-:eore the end of the week. Evert came to himself. "I have dreamed you were 1 here," he said, with a faint smile. "'Now r I see it is you0, and no pl)haultml." if The delirium had gone, but the doctor 11 said nothing encouraging. Evert insisted on hearing the exact truth ; and learned '1 at lat that he might possibly live a few - days. but no longer. t Then. to Emily's wonder and dismay, Evert entreated that, for the little time i there was remaining, she would take his r name. Hlls heart was set on this idea. ) and he pleaded, for what seemed such a - useless boon, with a vehemence that f seemed likely to hasten the last mo ments. Mrs. Millburn and HIatty sec onded the petition with tears, and were sure that " darling Emily" would not re r fuse dear Evert's'last request. Emily did what nine women out of r ten would have done. and consented. " What harm can it do?" she thought. " it is only u mere form, but it gives me the right to be with him to the end, and will lrevent any talk; and he is so good, and has loved Ille so well ; and if it comn forts himi now to think that my name will be Millburn instead of Miay, why should I refuse?" And then it crossed her mind that a widow's cap wouol be very becoming to her, and she hated her self because this silly notion had come to her unbidden, and twisted up her hair tight and plain, and went to meet the clergyman in her old black mohair, which had become considerably spotted down the front in the course of her nursing. The rite was made as short as possible, and then Mrs. Millburn sent every one :away, and for two days the bride stool over the bridegroom, and fought against death till she was ready to faint. The doctor gave up the patient en tirely, and ceased to do anything; an.l, as sometimes happens in like cases, he took a turn for the better; and slowly the balance trembled, the scale inclined. and life had won. '" I'll tell you what it is," said the doc. tor. " your wife has saved your life." Evert turned his head on the pillow. and looked for Emily; but she had slipped away into the next room, where she sat down, feeling, for the first time, with a strange sho:k. that she was actual ly n.arried. What should she do? What could she say ? flow could she tell Evert, after all, that she had only come to him as she would have gone to Pat Murphy, if he had sent for her, and consented to that marriage rite as she had lent her silver candllsticks to hold Father Flanagan's ble~ed candles when Judy Murphy died ? 'T'la doctor went down stairs; and presently Mrs. Millburn and Hatty came to her, and overwhelmed her with em baces and grtltude, and a point appliq e set, and fragmentary talk about, her " things," and piroposals to serd for her mother, all mingled together. Emily resolutely put away thought for the time. but ~he could not help feeling, in an odd surpried way, that she was not unhappy. and despised he reelf for having a sort of ashamed, furtive interest in those "things' which Mrs. Millburn and Iatty were lo;,ging to, provide. A week after that dlay, Evert was al lowedl to sit up in his easy chair, white and wan enough. but with a look of returning health ale life. Emily was sittin? almost with her lack to him, lo.kiag out into the tossing leafless branches of the great elm. "Emily,'" said Mr. Millburn at last. " Yes," she answered quietly, but she did not turn her head. " Emily. I did not mean to get well." No answer from Mrs. Millburn. " I know how much you must feel what has happened. Believe me, I will take no advantage of your goodness; I will set you free as son as Icmin. My only wish is to spare you trouble; I will take all blame on myself. I know you are long. lug to be away; and why should I delay what must come at last? I dare say Dick and Mrs. Macy, the nurse, can do all I need now." Oh. if you prefer Mrs. Macy's attend ance, I am sure it is nothing to me." sald Emily. In a remarkably cross manner. "You are angry with me, but there need be no difficulty, der.r. You came away from home so hurriedly that it would be perfectly natural for you to return to your mother now." But here, to Evert's dismay, Emily hid her face, and began to cry in quite a pas sionate and distressful fashion. Evert rose with dliflculty, and went to her,-it was not more than three steps. '"Do you want to kill yourself?" she said through her sobs, and she took hold of him and made himn sit down, and then turned away, and laid her head on the window seat. "What can I do ?" he said, distressed. "It's too bad! Oh, it's too bad!" she said in the most unreasonable way. "I know it, ,Emily. You are as free as though no word had ever passed between us. Do you want to go to-day ? I will make it easy for you with mother and HIatty," hlie said, with a pang. She went on crying, and then in a min ute s~e said, in a most incoherent fashion, "I-I dirdn't think I was so very dis greeable." The words dropped out one ny one between her sobs. "But, of course, if you don't want me--" "Emily ! What do you mean ? Will you stay ? W'ill you really try to care forme?" he asked, with a sudden light in his eyes. "I don'tknow. I-did think-as mat tirs are, we might try to make the best of it," she said in the faintest whisper, while the color ran to her fingers' ends. "You will ?" "I will if you will," said Mrs.Millburn. with a sweet, shy smile. And shle kept her wrd.--Fromn th Al dine for April. A NSw ENOGLA~D paper describes a "boarding marm" whose economical tendeneis lead her to place her boarders upon an allowance of matches. Every Sevening at tea she goes round and places a singl~e match at the plate of each board er. and should that match fail, there is no aplpeal to the match safe. DETRoIT, Minn., aspires to be a health resort, and won't hear of having sunch a thing as a regular grave-yard,lest it should deter invalids from going thither. Taming the Indlans. T th 'EI.R(; P'nRKns lived in Denver Colors- da do. lie was a philanthropist, of the most to positive ano enthusiastic type. Unlike oth- V (r modern philanthropists, he did not use In hii wonderful genius in promoting woman to -uffrige, anti-cruelty to animals, teetotal- pI ism, news-blacks and boot-boys homes, di or any such trivial enterprises. His phil- M anthropy always bubbled up in behalf of of the poor. pitiable, painted, peripatetic In- sit dian. lie contended that the Indian was cli a human being, and hence susceptible of ti being civilized, christianized, and worked over into a useful citizen. It was only niecessary, he declared, to furnish the poor, down-trodden copper-skin with plenty of blankets, trinkets and tracts, hi and place him under good influence gen- in erally, and the noble red man would soon D( become the pride of America. And Peleg Pt longed for an opportunity to unlurl this of fact to the public, in a practical way, that ed would convince the most skeptical. Para- ut doxical as it may seem, the object always be uppermost in his mind was "Lo." Pr He had not been a resident of Colorado en many months, before resolving to put this ad philanthropic theory into practice. lie ar- of ranged for a little missionating expedition tih among the Utes, who were numerously co encamped in the mountain passes not far p away from Denver. Hiji wife protested, but he was determined t*go, and to go fe1 ldone, and unarmed. Even his finthful old wi jack-knife. which for years had served him co so well in carving plug tobacco into little fri "bricks," of the proper size to fit his Poi chewing machine, was taken from the the owner's pocket and laid on a shelf. He an would scorn to carry any kind of a weap- jot on, when going on a mission of love. Fill- for ing his carpet-bag with tracts, such as he shi thoughtwould suilttheliterary taste of the fel noble Utes,'he kissed his weeping wife and bei nine children, and started for the moun- the tains. Toward nightfall he reached a vit large encampment of Utes, who received frig him with unmistakable demonstrations on of delight. They shook him by the hand pr they laughed. they shouted, they danced Pas and sang songs-all in their own peculiar m( language, however, which Peleg had not any yet learned. After a hearty supper, of wa raw bear meat and boiled roots, the whole mc party, including the philanthropist, pre- un pared to retire for the night. Peleg now tal opened his carpet-bag and dragging forth _l1 a halt bushel of tracts, scattered them liq freely among the dark-eyed subjects; ma then, lying down on a rock, he fell asleep, lar ilankcd on either side by a muscu'ar th( voung chief. lie awoke late inthemorn- ana mng, and found the camp lively enough. ent Men and women were rapidly moving to era and fro. and there was evidently some im- Pr portant event at hand. A large quantity as of dry wood had been piled up around lon the trunk of a green tree, and at the base on of the pile lay a quantity of the identical cae tracts which the philanthropist had dis- sih tributed a few hours previous. Over hat Peleg's prostrate form stood the two al( young chiefs, brandishing their toma- per hawks and scalping knives. Soon a couple of " Lo's" seized the bewildered mission ary, and with strong pieces of deer-skin, bound him hand and foot; at the same S momnent another gentle aboriginee, with as Ilint and steel, touched off the tracts. mo then,. and not till then, did the horrid the suspicion flash through the mind of the rut captured philanthropist that the Indians dot were preparing to roast a man about the not size of I'cleg's wife's husband. all] Let us draw a blanket over the scene mo that followed. Peleg Perkins no longer dro lives in Colorado. I will not undertake Ve to say where hlie does live. I only know ova that his heart-aching widow is consulting mil numerous spiritual mediums in the hope ton of ascertaining his whereabouts. But ias wherever he is, It is safe to conclude that onl Peleg's views concerning the philanthro- son phy business as applied to the gentle not savage are somewhat changed.-Ralph E. sun Hoyl, in Fireside Friend. on( 000In Make a Map of Your Farm. Clu of, SY'TEI is the soul of success. Order Pot is said to be heaven's first law, but there and can be no order without system, and spe so surely there can be no long-continued out succeta without system and order. The ma flrst thing essential to the establishment wh of any fiarm is, to lay it out in fields. con Upon this operation far more depends pro than the great majority of farmers have the any idea. Aside from thElooks ofa farm being spoiled by badly arranged felds, an nut almost incredible increase of labor is en- cur tailed upon the farmer and his hands by (ire fences wrongly placed. We know of no better plan to secure a convenient and Nc economical laying outof a farm than to fats make a map of it, putting down every adt natural feature in its proper place, and elei then marking off the felds according to con some settled plan of rotation of crops, and ' laying down the road so as to occupy the tha shortest possible route to and from the lap fields. Nothing will so much conduce to bee the adoption of a system of working leal the farm as a well-prepared map, hung ug where the farmer can see it every day. Am It will be sure to set him to thinking and for planning how best to pitch his crops, and Per how to work to save work. Andonce the farmer adopts a system of farming, he starts on the road to sueccess. It matters not that the system is not the best that fom could be devised, solong as it is a system fall it isintinitely to bepreferred to the hap- D hazard practice of many farmers. We therefore advise every reader who owns n a farm to make at once, or have made, a ga mapof it and hangit upwherehe can ofi see it every day. And having made it, study it -Rural Sas. St. Vltus' Dumee. Tnr Nurembwr Chronicle of 1493 relates dl a mediheval legend to this effect-ethat In the reign of the Emperor Henry the l Second, while a priest was sayling mass,on con Christmas eve, In the church of St. Meg- il nus, in Magdeburg, a company of young ig people amused themselves with dancing ch and singing in the churchyard. The i priest remonstrated, but they derided his words and refused to desist. Then he, incensld at their conduct, prayed God deli and St. Magnus to cause them to dance wh and sing a whole year without rest; and the prayer was granted. Neither rain nor dew fell upon tIemr; they did nut eat or ten rest, nor were their shoes or garments worn out. Three of the company per- old Ished in the time. one the daughter of a th priest; the others were released at the sthe end of the year and obtained forgiveness Dr before the altar,. but, after sleeping three whole nights, they also dlied. This same I story i- told of other places and church·c. col The Involnntary dancers were styled In the Latin chronicles coreisantes, and the dance was spoken of in the fifteenth cen- 1 tury, in some parts of Europe, as St. evc Vitus' dance. A nervous disease, produc- kn Ing frequent involuntary motions, thus wl took this name among the common peo- gq ple; while medical men specified the an lsease as Ch(orea Sancti Viti, or. Sancti la fodesti. It has been also called the dance Sp >f St. Guy, and of other saints. It is pos. sj ilble that these several names came from ge Churches to which the old story was at- 171 .ached.-N. Y. Observer. Pl Tyler and Buchanan. an Is looking about for recruits to sustain ow is administration, President Tyler came Be n contact with Mr. Buchanan, then a Democratic Senator of considerable re- 4 >ute. lie was a smooth, plausible man, del )f amiable deportment, with no sharp we dges about him, and who never did an the unkind thing from impulse, or without of coping to gain by it. He treated the tw President with courtesy and much appar- qua rnt frankness, spoke of the bank veto with admnration, and trusted that the relations )f the Democratic party and the execu ive would soon become more close and of Confldential. This was very well, and Ns >romised better things in the future. But dat Ilr. Tyler had taken the Presidential ma ever, and his anxiety to build up a party am lith reference to the succession was un- bpa controllable. He commissioned a reliable it riend to wait upon Mr. Buchanan, and lau round him with a view to ascertain what here was to hope from him intheSenate, P end also in Pennsylvania. Congress ad- Ch ourned before an opportunity occurred bel or a conference with Mr. Buchanan. A wb hiort time afterward Mr. Tyler's emissary le ell in with the Senator in New York, and IV seing quite diligent in the performance of te he duty with which he was charged, in- a itedl him to a dinner. Two trusted rienids of the Administration were the a b only other guests. Intent upon ap-. g Broaching Mr. Buchanan under the most cl avoring circumstances, the host made a Oost bountiful provision of choice wines, . nd the repast was a sumptuous one. It co ras a jolly time, sure enough. Four c sore honest drinkers never had their feet in l nder mahogany. There were no heel ape, and no passing the bottle until the u lass was filled. Mr. Buchanan took his thr iquor like a seasoned cask. The result em, nay be easily imagined. The Senator, a arge man, of lymphatic temperament, in losl he prime of life, remained perfectly cool nd self-possessed, although taking wine ge nough to lay a Senator of these tegen- an rate days under the table; pumped the last 'residert's agent and his two associates Fr a dry as the remaining biscuit after a at I ng voyage, without conmmitting himself In I n a single point; and returned to Lan- gp astr fully apprised of Mr. Tyler's erg, thene, and laughing at the boys who ad undertaken to seduce him from his the Ilegiance to the I)emocratl party.-Har bro ar's Magazine for April. not Milk Tree. ind Sucn trees in various parts of the world yield a milky juice are among the and ost servicteable to mankind. some of icm furnlhing gutta-percha and India abber. while others supply a liquid which the oes not solidify, and may be used as a a t utritions article of food. These are nau Ily known as cow-trees ; and one of the the most valuable Is the Brosimum galetzdes- the ron. This is found on the sea-coast of boli enezuela, in the form of a tree frequently a ver one hundred feet In height. The the silk. which is obtained by making inch- old' ns In the trunk, has a very agreeable int lute. resembling that of sweet cream, the uly unpleasant feature being that It is hoi )mewhat glutinous, although it is very psi ourishing and wholesome. It is con Imed freely by the people, and is, indeed, 7 ne of their mbst Important resources. n a pharmaceutical point of view the lusia galaetodendron of Venezuela and f Western New Granada, is of great im ortance, from having the very singular ad valuable property of being almost a i aciflc in dysentery. It contains a resin us and astringent principle and an are pros natic tonic substance. It is said that 'herever this tree occurs dysentery is ex ansidered of no moment, the milk being rocurable very readily, and used upon ilt me slightest occasion. ao According to Mr. R. B. White, out of Ta umberless cases of severe dysentery o- Ind irring in a party of five to seven hun red men engaged in constructing a road jour a very unhealthy climate in Western stall lew Grenada, near the Buenaventura, a tal case was never known to occur, the ql Iministration of the milk, even at the vI eventh hour, curing cases that had been ot nsidered almost hopeless. The special advantage of this remedy is iat the cure is radical, a subsequent re pee being very rare. This all t has en kept a year without its taste or med al properties being afl~cted; and it is iggested that it be brought to Europe or W merica, and tried in cases of choeru, r which it wouldeeem appllcable.--He r's for April.kin Curbing the Temper. diii the BorTs a philosophy and a moral may be dra and in the following, which we heard B 11 from the lips of the very learned 1ev. the r. Schaff, of this city. It was at a meet the rg of ministers of the Reformed Church, Thi ithered in ti.electure-roomofthechurch the hieh until recently stood at the corner ml William and Fulton streets. There was #le running discussion on the delicate point otl w far we might judge a man's piety. r he learned divine took very sdie n round, viz., thata large margin of ehfarty N mould be given, as some men, becaue oi ference of constitutional temperament, t ightdo things that in them would be as sinful than in others more favorably inl nstituted. He said that a certain min- e ter of the Reformed Church was preud. of ig at a meeting of the consistory of his urch when one of the officers eonsldered e his duty to differ from ilis minister on a oil aint of church polity. The pastor at this lm ;t his head, and advandcing to the elder alec ilivered himself in violent language Nt heresat another cider ventured a remon- i r mrane: all 'Dominle, you should restrain your due inper!" elg 'estrain my temper !" relterated the the Id man. "1'd have you to know, Sir, prc sat I restrain more temper in fve min tea than you do in five years."--Editor's ra',r, in Harper's Magaine for Aprl. ria ItALTIMvolui 1- alrk forebodings of a wh I,,r , I -,' , ',th. Doa Carla. IN vtaw of present events and possible eventualities, it may be interesting to know who and what this Don Carlos is, whence he derives the claim he so ener geBtally presses to the Spanish throne, ant what manner of man he is who can inspire devotion so steadfast and am keep Spain In a state of chronic unrest and de sultory civil war. Don Carlos is the great grandson of Carlos IV,, who reigned from 1788 to 1808, and w descended from Philip V., the first Fr beh-Bourbon king of Spain. Carlos left tWo sonu, Ferdinand and Carlos. Ferdinand, sev(.nth of his name, ascended the throne in 18o8, to be ousted from it within a year, whe(n Joweph Bonaparte succeeded. Joseph wa:L te posed in 1814, after the abdication at Fon tainebleau; and Ferdinand returned un der the protection of the Allies. l'his weak-bodied and feeble-minded king was the Blue Beard or rather ttB"enry VIII. of Spanish royalty. Withit a period of twenty-eight years he led fiPe successive queens to the altar-a PortugCse princess, two Neapoitan princesses, i two Saxon princesses. He continued cdless until he wedded the handsome Christina, sister of Ferdinand II., or "'Bomba," King of Naples, by whom, In 1830, he had one daughter, Isabella. Christil as re markable for her spirit, cage, and ambition as for her s Italian beauty. She ruled the imbecile king with a rod of iron. As bthe Salic law excluding females from dhe throne prevailed in Spain, Ferdlnand'q brother, ion Carlos, was the legitimate bir ; but Christina was determined that-l e Insa bella, her daughter, should succeed, whereby she herself would sect'e a long lease of power as regent. She adbrding ly cajoled, threatened, and tenard poor Ferdinand into causing the abrogotion of the Salic law. This was the mod easily accomplished as Ferdinand had long had a bitter quarrel with Don Carls. The Salle law was abolished, Isabella pro claimed as the heir of the monarchy. and upon the demise of the king, ia 1$33. Christina was duly installed in the Pala co Reale as regent until the infant qum .n came of age. She resigned the regency In 1840; but was long afterward the real possessor of the regal power, andeontin ued to advise Isabel till her fall from the throne in 1868. Don Carlos, thus Oncer emoniously cheated of his rights, was by no means content to submit tamely to the loss of a crown. For eight years he en gaged in a ferocious civil war with e re gent; but the active sympathies of irance and England were against him and he at last gave over in despair. He retired to France, In 1839, and took up his residence at Paris, where he lived until his death. In 1845 he resigned his pretensions to the Spanish crown in favor of his son, the en erletle young Count of Montemolin, by whose sudden death, in I6ill, the claim to the throne passed into the hands of his brother, Don Juan. But Don Juan did not possess the enterprising spirit of his father and elder brother; his tastes were Indolent and luxurious. Happily for the Cantalts he had a son who unied mhiitagy predilections with an attractive pear=e and adventurous zeal. Don Juan, the day after the involuntary abdieation of Isabella, in 1868, made over his rights as the CrlIht representative to his son, and r thir Don Carlos appeared upon the scene as a contestant ibr the prize. T'Ita the present Don Carlos is a granlson of the first pretender of that name, and sym bolizes the traditional cause of the pfd Wllc monarchy. When endowed wL% the leadership he was only eighteen yet id; but he at once entered viglrousl, Into the schemes of his partisans and for the past five years has almest conutan hovered about the frontier, ooeasiousa , pasing it, to return pursued by the mroops of the Savoyard sovereign.-N. , fndepedent. Jute. Jrr is a sort of fiber hitherto imported nto this country and Europe from India. lohe culture of the plant producing it promiaes to become ad established ladus ry in our more Southern States. The experiments made, during the last few Pears, in cultivating it, and reported 1 ;he Department of Agriculture at Wash. ngton, thus fr indicate that both climate md soil are well adapted to Its growth. The jute plant comes from the East Indies and is thus described in an English ournal. It grows with a tall, coarse stalk, in the best Indian fields, seldom ibove fifteen feet high, and perhaps three luarters of an inch in diameter. Some rarletles are branchless, the leaves bhein, set on long foot-stalks, while others put it limbs somewhat abundantly. It has ismall yellow flower, and some varieties yield their seed in a long pod, while with )thenrs the seed vessel is a small ball or sutton. The peed is of but little or no alue, yielding too little oil to make it worth while to crush, and it is not very mutritious for stock. Use is made of the amlks, which, like long willow stems, are sade into baskets, or plaited into various ainds of wiger-work, or burnt into fine shuecoal for certain specal purposes, as he manufacture of gunpowder, or for lr lstSelef valu of the crop is for the fiber which surrounds the stem, like the fiber of the Sa or of the hemp plashn This, as is well known, is used ~ br most of the coarer kinds of woven abri, such as m-r-., ,baui, mats, etc. Sco por - ctr fibbe s aJa mined with oatto and wool, as in part a autitute br those mosexpe.sive materials. ome ats go certain kinds of shawls were mweSsd into this country at pries coon ably lower than it was undsstod teycould be made for at home. The dlebc was so great as to eause much surprise, when closeexamlnation revealed the e that ta no inconsiderable proportion of jlate had been woven in with the wool. Coarse as the material ausually seeasa certain part of the fiber of some ve 'es otute is so soft and silky as even to be ued to adulterate silk, and in this form, also, is appears in our market. The temp tation to such euses is readily seen whlen t is remembered that iute is the cheapest of all fibers. It isdd that it can be pro duced in India for one-fifth, or even one eighth the cost of cotton; and perhaps there is no reason why the relative co-t of production should not be very nearly the same in this eeunatry.--Rral Suan. Ia NewYork, a toy, labeled the "'nBo ring puzzle5" is to bc -eee in the -ho,,, windows. There is a titne, in the f:,t that it is made of brass.