Indianapolis Journal, Indianapolis, Marion County, 23 May 1885 — Page 12

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HEADING FOB THE SABBATH. Religions Notes. There are over thirty Jewish synagogues and 100,000 .few# in New York city. A Mexican railway company ie is said to have lough t for tael 300 wooden images of Catholic Hunts. The Advocate: We attract hearts by the qualities we display; we retain them by the qualities ere possess. In Glasgow. Scotland, 1,700 young persons have been converted in connection with the labors of Rev. E. P. Hammond. Only three religions writers—writers of rclig!<we books, I mean—have made any money fairing the past four or five years, so a New York publisher tells mo. The longest word used in Eliott’s Indian Bible ii “Weetappesittukgussunnookwehtuukquoh.” It fa found in St. Mark’s Gospel, i, 40, and means ‘‘Kneeling down to him.” Mr. Spurgeon says: “There are two reasons why some people do not mind their own business; one is they haven’t any business to mind, tnd the other is* they haven't any mind.” John Howard: Our superfluities must be given up for our neighbor’s conveniences; our sonveniences for our neighbor’s necessities; our necessities for onr neighbor’s extremities. A deacon put it thus: “Now. brethren, let ns get np a supper and eat ourselves rich. Buy your food; then give it to the church; then go and buy it back again; then eat it up, and your •hurch debt is paid.” The Moravians, who are one of the smallest religious denominations, maintain 323 missioniries in various parts of the earth and 1,565 native assistants, and now have about 81,000 adlerents in mission fields. Dr. Newton: Let me give you the history of wide in three small chapters. I. The beeinning 9f pride was in heaven. 11. The continuance if 'pride {ft on earth. 111. The end of pride is in hell. This history shows how unprofitable it ie. ‘‘German women are much interested in their ftonsekeeping. They obey their husbands religiously, because they have to, and are very fond rs fancy work and —gossip,” says an American jnrl in a letter from Berlin to the Christian Adrocate. A correspondent of the Christian Observer puts the Southern view in this style: “The color line leparating white Presbyterians from black is equivalent to two thousand miles of ocean. To evangelize them is essentially a foreign work, out as much a duty as missions to Brazil or China.”

Prof. Christlieb. of Bonn, has established an •‘Evangelist School” called the “Johaneum.” Already nine evangelists have been sent out. These messengers endeavor to reach the uneburchly masses by means of prayer meetings, addresses, visiting, etc. Their success so far &as been encouraging. The Professor at the Breakfast-table: tVe must have a weak spot or two in a character before we can love it much. People that do aot laugh or cry, or take more of any thing than s good for them, are admirable subjects for Mographies; but we don’t alway care most for those flat pattern flowers that press best in the herbarium. The original organ of Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford, England, was destroyed in 1644 by the Puritans. It was replaced in 1680 by another, which was repaired and enlarged in 1826 an 1848. That organ has given place to anew one. The Puritans have loot their intolerance of instrumental music in churches, and would soonev appropriate than destroy an organ. The “Ohrist-believing movement/’ which originated with the Jewish reformer, Rabinowitch, in Bessarbia. is said to be spreading among the Jews in Russia. Rabinowitch, who is a lawyer of Rieheney, visited Palestine some time since, and, while seated on the Mount of Olives, was led to see clearly the prophecies concerning Jesus as the Messiah, and, on his return home, be commenced the formation of a sect of New Testament Jews. Loud complaints have been made from time to time of the sufferings of the missionaries in the invaded parts of China, It appears from a French Catholic paper that the chapel at Son-Ly had been entirely pillaged, and that the occupants of the orphan asylum at the same place had been compelled to quit and find refuge where they might. The bombardment of Pak Koi reacted unfavorably upon the missionaries. This last Chinese war has been a serious blow so several of the stations. Very reliable authority places the number of evangelical preachers in this country at 76.760, the congregations at 126,109, and tho comtnun icants at 10,561,648. Os various miscellaneous lects the preachers number 88,791, the congregations 10,703. and the adherents 7,169,655. The Roman Catholics report 6,905 priests, 7,663 congregations and 6,800.000 souls, including tho entire population. They are very far from possessing the land, though they love to have people think so. These statistics are for 1884.

The Baptists of late years have shown a very remarkable appreciation of the missionary responsibility which rests upon the Christian shurch. In all foreign fields they are now found accupying prominent places and doing excellent work. It is well known that their labors have been singularly Dlessed in Burmah, and that in the Burmese towns there were large Christian congregations under Baptist control. One of our latest items of news from Rangoon is that the Baptists are bui’ding anew church in that •iity. When completed it will be the finest place of worship in Burmah. Baltimore Methodist: Who will say that the world does not move? The Mountain Lake Park samp-meeting this summer is to be under the iirectiou of Dr. Dugan Clark and D. B. Updetraff, ministers of the Society of Friends. Those who aforetime believed not in singing, in demonitrative religious services, in a “hired” ministry, in an experimental salvation, in an inspired Bible, in a real atonement and a divine Christ, now have charge of the leading specialty in meetings of the most progressive and evangelical church of the times, and invite the concurrent attendance and aid of other great de nominational allies. An exchange says that a poor child, straying Into a Sabbath school one day, asked simply: “Is this the way to heaven?” The superintendent was for a moment startled. Was the school, indeed, the way to heaven? Was he trying to make it so? Were his teachers intent on the tame subject? The artless question struck some. From desk to class the question went round with a thrill. What were they all doing? Whither were they all tending? The question was like an angel suddenly come into their midst to make a record of all that transpired in that school. How could the leaders and teachers answer the solemn question? In India there are 50 per cent more girls than ttoys in the mission schools. In one mission district there are l,ooo\girls under the instruction of religious teachers. This is a wonderful change from the time when it was a disgrace for a woman to know how to read. If this process gos on a few years it will do much to destroy idolatry in the homes of India; for religiously the home is what the women make it. The missionaries in China and Japan report that when Christian men marry heathen wives the some is heathen, and the men are likely to ftpostatize, but when Christian women marry they make the home Christian. Hence the raluo “of woman’s work for woman.”

The New South Wales auxilary of the British ind Foreign Bible Society made a remittance of 16,000 to the parent society last year. From that ocal depot there were issued 4,108 Bibles, 2,222 Testaments, 465 portions of the Bible, and 161 jopies of foreign Scriptures, making a total of $60,184 copies issued during the sixty-eight years of the existence of the auxiliary branch. To the a*oops who went to the Soudan 726 Bibles were listributed. In Sydney the gospel of St. Mark lias been printed iu three of the dialects of New Quinea. The four gospels have been translated .nto the Motu dialect. These new centres of of missionary influence, while they reveal the progress of the gospel of the kingdom, cannot fail to hasten its final triumph. Considerable doubt has alwavs existed as to the spot where rested the ashes of John Foxe, the author of the well known and at one time much read “Book of Martyrs.” It has now been discovered that his body was interred on the south side of the chancel of St. Giles’s Church, Cfipplegate, London, of which church and parish be was for 6ome time near. A slab which had been overlaid has been found found on the western wall of said church, bearing the following inscription: “John Foxe, the most faithful martyrologist of the Church of England, the most sagacious investigator of historical antiquity, the cost valiant defender of the evangelical truth, a

wondrous worker of miracles, who presented the Marian martyrs, like phoenixes, alive from their sshea Chiefly to fulfill every duty of filial affection Samuel Foxe, his eldest son, erected this monument, not without tears. He died on the 18th of April, 1587, a septuagenarian.” There is trouble in St. James Protestant Episcopal Church, Chicago, growing out of the highchurcliißm of its present rector. One of the members of that congregation, though not a member of that communion, a lawyer of very high standing, recently told a Tribune reporter that the rector was a Jesuitical ritualist Said this, gentleman: “I do not object to the Church of Rome as such. Ido object to tho Church of Rome under the guise of a Protestant Episcopal Church, and 1 think this is the feeling which is at the bottom of all disaffection at present prevailing in St. James parish.” During the last thirty years several of the ablest men in the Protestant Episcopal Church have served as rectors of St. James. Among them are the names of Dr. Clarkson, afterward bishop; Dr. Rylance, Dr. Hugh Miller Thompson, Arthur Brooks, Dr. Harris, present bishop of Michigan, and Dr. Courtney. The present rector is Mr. Vibbert. The Mission of the Pnlpit. Bishop A. Cleveland Coxe. Yes, the pulpit has lost much of its power; but to reach these evils, the teacher must go out of the pulpit into highways and hedges, in the spirit of John the Baptist. A certain man built a sawmill on the top of the mountain, where strong winds could always be depended on to work his instruments, and it was a demonstrated success so far as the winds and wheels were concerned: the perpendicular motion he secured was all that was promised. The mischief was that nobody could get the saw-logs up there to be converted into planks. And “the pulpit” is, rz vi termini, powerless as to the masses, because it stands where those who need it cannot reach it. The times tue mission of the Baptist once more. Heaven on Karth. To fly for repose From life and its woes To home, where no doubt findeth birth, Where sympathy springs, And peace ever sir £ Si Is to fly to aiieaven on earth. Sweet, soul-soothing home! The longer I roam. The more of the world I descry, The more I am sure, This home that’s so pure Is heaven let down from the sky. Lafayet.e. —VV. DeWitt Wallace.

HOW ENGLISH IS TAUGHT IN SCHOOLS. A Statement Which Speaks 111 for tho Primary Schools. Prof. A. S. Hill, in June Harper. As regards the result of much teaching of English as is given in some of our best schools and academies, I may be pardoned for referring to my own observation. Since 1873, when Harvard College for the first time held an examination in English, 1 have read from four to five thousand compositions written in the examination-room upon subjects drawn from books which the candidates wete obliged to i*ead before presenting themselves. Os these not more than a hundred —to make a generous estimate—were creditable to either writer or teacher. This year 1 did not read the books, but one who did makes this report: ‘ Few were remarkably good, and few extraordinarily bad; a tedious mediocrity everywhere.” It is this tedious mediocrity which has amazed me year after year. In spelling, punctuation, and grammar some of the books are a little worse than the mass, and some a great deal better; but in other respects there is a dead-level, unvaried by a fresh thought or an individual expression. Almost all the writers use the same commonplace vocabulary—a very small one —in the same confused way. One year, after reading two or three hundred compositions on “The Story of the Tempest,” I found myself in such profound ignorance of both plot arid characters that I had to read the play to set myself right again. The authors of those discouraging manuscripts were, almost all of them, “Just at the age 'twixt boy find youth, When thought is speech, and speech is truth.” They may be regarded as the picked youth of the country, many of them coming from the best families in point of culture and breeding, and from the best schools we have. They were all boys with blood in their veins, and brains in their heads, and tongues that coulA talk fast enough and to the purpose when they feit at ease. Many of them had enjoyed The Tempest —as who that can understand it does not?—but somehow the touch of pen or pencil paralyzed their powers. If the dreary compositions written by the great majority of candidates for admission to college were correct in spelling, intelligent in punctuation, and unexceptionable in grammar, there would be some compensation, but this is so far from being the case that the instructors of English in American colleges have to spend much of their time and strength in teaching the A B C of their mother tongue to young men of twenty —work disagreeable in itself, and often barren of result. Every year Harvard graduates a certain number of men—some of the high scholars —whose manuscript would disgrace a boy of twelve. And yet the college cannot be blamed, for she can hardly be expected to conduct an infant school for adults. Is there any remedy for this state of things? I venture to say that there is: but it is one which demands persistent ana long-continued work, and hearty co-operation on the part of all who have to do with the use of English in the schools in any form and for any purpose. It requires intelligent supervision at one time, intelligent want of supervision at another time, and watchful attention constantly. It requires a quick sense of individual needs, and ready wit to provide for them as they arise. My plan is briefly as follows: 1. I would begin as early as possible to overcome the mechanical difficulties of writing, and would use all practicable means and all possible opportuqities to do so. 2. I would not frighten a boy with “compositions,” so called, till he could form his sentences with tolerable correctness and use his pen with freedom. 3. But when he was set to work writing compositions he should be kept steadily at it, and at the same time should be made to take an interest in what he is doing and should be pressed with the importance of having something to say and of saying that something in an intelligible and a natural manner.

The Gift of the Vanderbilt. New York Ledger. Nothing seems so welcome to the people just now as reminiscences of the late war. The passion and ill feeling of the contest have passed away, never to return, but every one listens with increased interest to the authentic relation of incidents and events of the long struggle. Mr. J. C. Derby, the veteran publisher of this city, contributes bis quota in his “Fifty Years Among Authors,” recently given to the world. During the war, while holding a position of confidence in the State Department, he was charged by Secretary Seward to convey to the late Commodore Vanderbilt ' the thanks of Congress for the “fre'e gift he had made to his imperiled country of his new and stanch steamship Vanderbilt, of 5,000 tons burden, built by him with the greatest care, of the best materials, at a cost of $800,000.” The resolutions of thanks, superbly engrossed upon parchment and inclosed in an elegant frame, were duly present by Mr. Derby. Their reception by the Commodore was peculiar and characteristic. He read them all over carefully, then looked at the official conveyer* of the same, and finally broke into speech: “I never gave that ship to Congress. When the government was in great straits for a suitable vessel of war I offered to give the ship if they did not cars to buy it However, Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Welles think it was a gift, and 1 suppose 1 shall have to let her go.” Upon referring to the original letter, offering the vessel to the government. Mr. Seward found that the Commodore's version was strictly cor rect. He offered to sell her “at a valuation, 1 and added in his bluff and off hand manner “If this will not answer, will the government accept her as a present from their humble servant?” This was only the Commodore’s hearty way of saying: “I will not drive a bargain with- any country in her hour of peril. Take the ship on your ow n terms, gentlemen, or on no terms stall.” In the hurry and excitement of the time the letter was misunderstood, and the whole world was misinformed. It waa a costly error to Commodore Vanderbilt, but on* ybich he probably never regretted.

THE JOTOIAKAPOMS rTOTTKNAIi. SATURDAY, MAY 23 # 1883.

BOSTON BUNTBORNEI3M. Culture 6n Its Native Heath—Some Friendly Grindstone Turning. Boston Correspondence New York Graphic. I had not been in Boston for years. Naturally I breathed the air of pleasant anticipation on starting r or this goal of erudition and excellence. The thought of plunging from the commercial and fashionable atmosphere of New York into the intellectual profundity of Boston was quite exhilarating. I rather built upon it. In spirit I was already in the attitude of a learfcer, sitting humbly at the feet of wisdom and filling my mind with matter quite unattainable on the Island of Manhattan. I had the wind taken temporarily out of my sails, however, by the remark of a man who knew all about “the Hub’’ and everything else. “Boston!” he said, with a snort of contempt, as I confided to him my hopes of intellectual enjoyment “Boston! Why, it’s nothing more than a famous centre for greenhorns. I was startled and shocked. “Fact,” he said. “I know it like a book. They go there from all over the country, summer and winter, to enhance their greenness by contact with each other, though they have another name for it They call it ‘culture.’” After I was comfortably established at the feet of presumable wisdom in Boston this remark of my too sophisticated friend recurred to me more than once. Bui, ? 3 old-fashioned writers of “thrilling” fiction used to say, “Let us not anticipate.” The superfluous woman in Boston is a fact—a grim, realistic, numerical fact, which can neither be ignored nor properly adjusted in the social economy. She is pervasive to a point that ought to interest Legislatures in her behalf. I don\ mean that she is careering through the world at any startling pace, scaring unprotected masculinity into apprehensions of matrimony. On the contrary, she is, for the most part, a modest person. She pervades solely because of her numerosity. She can’t help it. She is everywhere. The atmosphere is dense with femininity. And, I will say it, an excess of femininity is as bad for society as an excess of masculinity. It is mentally enfeebling to both men and women. In some boaiding houses rows of husbandless women, maids and widows, young and old, surrounded the tables, much to their own disgust. Here or there a consumptive youth or a shaky old man relieves the petticoated monotony, and feeds his own vanity at the same time. That’s the worst of it. What men there are pass for twenty times their worth on account of their scarcity till they grow so great in their own es timations that they become insufferable to everybody save those who are obliged to endure them.

Like the backwoodsman who praised his sweetheart until she wouldn’t speak to him—thought she was to much his superior—the superfluous women of the city get paid for their homage to men in much the same coin. They are lorded over, snubbed, put down, and otherwise made to feel their insignificance in the preseuce of a creature boi*n to pantaloons and command. The creature may be—frequently is—little in body and mind, narrow of soul and feeble as to brain, and with a face as unhandsome as an Aztec god. All the same he believes be is a most satisfactory piece of the Almighty's handiwork. He hasn’t enough rivals to keep him humble. “Marry that old man?” said a young lady when a recent May and December alliance was being discussed. “Why shouldn't she? I would marry anybody—mark you, anybody—to get out of ray present environment.” The young ladies of this city talk a great deal about their environment. What was her environment? The routine work of a home where industry waged a spirited and rather hopeless battle with poverty in its genteeler aspects. Her imagination was lively, and she saw herself growing old, neglected, disheartened, and virtually imprisoned—for you are truly imprisoned when you know you are in a place and can't get out. For this reason she drew her own conclusions rather strong. Not only are marrriageable men scarce in Boston, but opportunities of independence for women are fewer than elsewhere. The hopeful old maid and the old maid who has lost hope may be distinguished the one from the other anywhere. The latter is settled and bookish looking; has the air of having renour A ea the world otherwise men —and taken uj ph losophy. The former looks as though she still intended to “cast an anchor to windward” if she gets a chance.

I was present at a club meeting, which was “Patience” without the music, sure enough. It was a woman’s club, of course, but the meeting was an open one—open to both sexes —so the news went round with a joyful sound, It was greatly talked up. The impression was given out that this meeting would be an occasion of extraordinary interest. Holders of invitations were made to feel that they had been favored of the gods—Rev. Mr. Grindwell was to read a paper on dead poets. That of itself, 1 know not why, seemed to impart a mysterious excitement to every one who contemplated being present. All were made to feel that a, light would be thrown on the rhythmic-dead which it would be well to see. I made up my mind that Mr. Grindwell was an obelisk of learning and knowledge who opened his mouth but seldom, but that when he did he electrified his hearers. I went early, feeling that I couldn’t have too much of such an exalted privilege as even looking at the man w-ho was to bring the departed poets before our eyes and make them live again. The pretty little parlors were full to repletion—with women. The reading stand was covered with flowers; and behind the speaker’s chair, which was still vacant, flowers were massed with a lavishness not u sual with Boston. There was an air of serious expectancy in the place. The company had evidently gathered for a united whack at ignorance and a determined avowal of their allegiance to the Fetich culture. One young lady appeared at the door with an escort. This created profound agitation in the audience. Heads were turned, and eyeglasses, a hundred strong or stronger, were leveled at the extraordinary spectacle. The Boston woman is put into eyeglasses almost as soon as she can walk. The escort, a timid being in his forties, with hair parted in the middle and an air of being on unfamiliar ground covering him as a halo, glanced in, saw the array of dense femininity, muttered something about not knowing that gentlemen were not expected, and slunk away. Great excitement at the door and in the hali, and considerable agitation inside. Three or four ablebodied women went after him without delay and lured him back without the aid of ropes. I heard them try to put him at his ease by assuring him that “another gentleman ’ was in the audience. They gave him a place near the door, and he shrunk into a chair in an attitude of the most painful embarrassment The “other gentleman,” a pale lad of seventeen, sat on the opposite side. He looked across and smiled strength and support to the unhappy stranger. This somehow had the effect of putting the nervous gentleman at his ease. It seemed to take away his fear, and he almost looked as though he would enjoy himself. The orator arrived next. He was hustled in by a bevy of a fair women in front and also in the rear. He carried the signs of dyspepsia, melancholy, malaria, and three or four other foes to the flesh in his face, and wore next to no hair at all. The rigorous Massachusetts climate and too much homage to the Fetich culture had done their fatal work. I conld not help but think that he ought to be very careful what he said about dead poets, since in all human probability he would be called to account by gome of them before a great while. He was armed with a stack of books, eaeb an inch thick, and read them conscientiously through. His essay was “an able compilation,” in which poets were set on tolerably high pedestals —such-of them as he fancied. Goethe and a few others ho dismissed as “old fellows” of no particular importance. A young lady of Western origin and rearing accompanied me. While the Rev. Grindwell cleared his throat at the end of the fifth book, preparatory to beginning on the sixth, she whispered, “Boston dearly lovea dead people. The longer they have been dead the more it adores them. It assumes that there are no living people worth talking or writing about We live in bn atmosphere of stale thought Indeed, it might be said with truth that although we tab*

our meals in Boston we really live in pneient Athens. 1 often feel as if I were two or three thousand years old.” This eXplanatorv interlude threw light on the settled look that I had noticed on so many faces —too mueh mousing in the past and not half enough interest in living thought When the orator finished his sixth book with a quotation in Connecticut Italian, a buzz of admiration burdened the air. He sat down amid his flowers swamped in smiles. The audience were greatly pleased with him, but he was stiil more pleased with himself. The chairwoman thanked him in the most overwhelming manner. He rose and bowed his profoundest acknowledgments. He also murmured something so full of feeling that it died away behind the flowers. He Still stood. nother lady rose, and in trembling acccents expressed her thanks for the precious privilege of hearing the paper. From her words I gathered that she had had an exceptionally happy life, full of joys, blessings and opportunities, but they all paled in comparison with the pleasure of hearing Mr. Grindwell on dead poets. In fact, she was weli nigh overcome with the kindness of heaven in being spared to make one of the favored company. Mr. Grindwell seemed to take it seriously, and grew more and more in love with himself. The scene began to take on a startling likeness to “Patience.” Bunthorne wasn’t young, but he was happy. One, two, three, four more women arose in turn to pour out their gratitude for the flood of light cast on dead poets. It was touching. Mr. Bunthorne still stood. Then the whole assemblage, realizing afresh how mueh it owed him, united in a solid vote of thanks. This cleared the sky of the excess of gratitude, which was fast choking everybody. When Mr. Grindwell had again bowed his modest acknowledgments, another woman sprang up and implored him to “tell ns something about the ideal.” The reverend £?Ptlen:C2 felt nervously in his vest pocket Without finding even A fragment of “the ideal,” and excused himself. The meeting was broken and the intellectual Bunthorne again received the bread of private thanks, cut particularly thick and well button-1. He also received six or eight huge bouquets, and went away as heavily garnished with flowers as a provincial debutante. “That’s the way we acquire our culture,” said my satirical young friend, to which I nothing replied. “Yes, that’s the way we exalt each other,” she continued. “If anybody jumps on a broomstick here we all unite in declaring that no one else could do "it with such grace, elegance and art. And in a day or two we assert that the same person could jump over a thousand broomsticks just as easy and gracefully as over one. and we believe it too. Take any thought and cherish it and it will have the same effect. That is the kind of meat we feed on to make us great in our own estimation. It develops self-confidence. You might call it conceit or egotism. But, you see, it keeps us all in good humor with ourselves and in a state of admiration for each other.” I saw this fact still further exemplified. I went to a "meeting of liberals, where spiritualism, occultism, Buddhism and various other “isms” and “pathys” were to he discussed. They didn’t wrangle, as I fully expected they would and as I have seen professed liberals do many a time. There was no building up of argumentative 'edifices #or the next man to knock down. On tho contrary, it was such a friendly turning of neighboring grindstones as I never expected to see this side of the millennium. Men and women all gave each other the most chearful and generous puffery one could imagine. It was like a reading of different patent medicine circulars more than a discussion. Nobody contradicted anything. No one paid any attention to his own grindstone, but industriously turned his neighbor’s—perhaps three or four of them. He could well afford to be indifferent to his own, knowing that the succeeding speaker would turn b -iskly for him and hold the axe on with a firm hand at the same time. It was the greatest feast of brotherly regard and gratuitous advertising I ever beheld. The chief orator praised the palmister, and threw in a few flattering sentences on the Weekly Hole in-the-Dark and the Semi-Weekly Nosegay. The palmister, in turn, spoke fluently of the chief orator's legal ability and flourishing practice. The editor of the Weekly Hole-in-the Dark gave two or three mediums who were present a handsome send off. One of the mediums finished her remarks with a neat tribute to a mind-cure practitioner, who in turning her thanks, said a good thing about the light and color-cure doctor who was present, but silent. This brought the original orator to his feet again, who indorsed everything that had been said about everybody and also spoke in the most commendatory manner of the magnetic physician who sat straight in front of him. Anew light was introduced who talked on “physical virus,” and concluded with a flattering eulogy of the massage woman who sat behind him. Another speaker, a woman, thanked everybody for their kindness, but took it upon herself to give a homoeopathic friend his dues in the way of praise. Another mind-cure doctor took the floor, and read off a list of books which nobody could afford to leave unread. The theosophist called attention to a new paper and a late pamphlet, giving the price of both. Ho sat down amid applause. These things seemed meat and drink for the audience. Many more “testimonials’’ were offered and well received.

I kept a list of persons, hooks, papers and treatments recommended with such disinterested ardor. When I got home I counted them up, and found I had fourteen addresses of these indispensables. In addition to this, the table was loaded with circular’s of every possible phase of occultism, which a boy kindly distributed to the eager audience. Nobody wanted to bo missed. There was a general grabbing of these precious documents. No one would consent to leave without one of each. No such friendly airing of neighbors’ merchandise ever came under my observation before. I went home to think about it, and am still thinking. Disagreeing with the Preachers on the Amusement Question. Gail Hamilton. “What shall be a young woman’s recreations and amusements?” Usually, whatever happens to be the fashion. Amusements come and go like the winds whensoever they iisteth. Real amusements must generally bring the two sexes together—such is the law of heaven. No attraction is so strong as the attraction between men and women, and it is idle to call anything amusement that rules that out. Yet the law of heaven is law, not anarchy, chaos; real amusement is always amenable to order, dignity, selfpossession. Dancing is. perhaps, the most decorous and beautiful of pure amusements. Rhythmic, graceful, imperious, demanding exact obedience, displaying beauty of form, and motion, and decoration, it has received the tribute of all ages and all countries. It exhibits, at once, and produces strength and agility. It exhilarates and it fatigues, in one sway of pleasurable activity, training the body and tranquilizing the soul. Tennis is an out door exersise—active, ana, if not in excess, most healthful. Croquet is but an animated idleness to the un skillful, yet, in the hands of a master, the balls do leap about like intelligent creatures. Boating, riding, rowing, their name is legion. One hesitates to strike a man when Ive is down, but the skating riuk is crowded, indiscriminate and and rather vulgar. Real skating has much to say for itself. Far the best way is to let the young women select their own amusements. A girt well reared, furnished with good principles and fortified with good habits, may be safely trusted to play at whatever she likes. And at all good play and by all good principles the intelligent and affectionate inspection of parents and elders is not suffered as a necessary evil, but welcomed as an additional pleasure, if not even demanded as a prerequisite to pleasure.

Pleading for the lioutonuiere. Charleston News and Ciurier. There is. in fact, a natural companionship between women and flowers, and that is why flower-wearing is always in fashion with them, But we should like the fashion to be adopted by tbe men. Perhaps it would uot do for them to stick a sunflower in their hat bands (especially in the ugly hard hats they love o much) in the fashion of the Swiss peasants, with their peaked ' green bats, aeeked with pink “alpen rosen.” Nor would it be altogether wise for them to cumber themselves with bouquets of a sue accordant with tbs prevailing mode among women. But purely a tiny rose bud, or a pansy, would not embarrass the workings of their gigantic intellects to any great extent; and it would add much to the pleasure of that portion | humanity who believe in combining bounty with duty in all the walks of Ufa,

THE YOUNG FOLKS’ COLUMN. THE PUZZLE DEPARTMENT. [Everything relatin': to this department must be addressed to W. H. Qraffam. West Scarborough. Cumberland county, Maine. Original contributions and answers to each puzzles are solicited from all.) .Answers to Pussies. No. 1555—Tw0 of a trade seldom agree. No. 1556—Press-cot (Prescot). No. 1557—Nicolas Poussin. No. 1558 T HAP HYDRA TADPOLE PRONE ALE E No. 1559 L S 1 T METRE SEVERAL LITERATIM No. 1560—See my coal on (semicolon). Coal on (colon). No. 1561-1. Rail, liar. 2. Cal, lac. & Marc, cram. 4. Sned, dens. 5. Meed, deem. Originul Puzzles, NO. 1577 — ENIGMA. I am composed of 72 letters. My 16, 21, 53, 36, 19, 27. 35, 43, 52, C 8,53, 72 is repetition. My 25, 13, 6. 22. 31, 5, 14, 40, 50 is a drink made from aromatic plants. My 1, 30, 37, 3, 44, 40,7, 24, 40, 50 is a clepsydra. My 11, 26. 13, 47. 45, 68. 17, 60, 19. 32, T 2, 57 id an expression of kindness. My 2, 10, 49, 69, 66. 4 is a desirable place. My 8, 18, 63, 56, 67, 12 is a slave. My 9, 20, 64, 56. 39 is to cause to swell. My 51, 58, 41, 63, 57, 35, 70, 46, 23 conciseness. My 28, 34. 29 is an enemy. My 65, 55, 53, 70, 30, 5, 35 is old in service. My 42, 38, 71, 7, 61 is complete. My 62, 48 is a verb. My whole is a poetical quotation—a rebuke to cowardice: to courage, praise. Salem, Ind. Uncle Theo. NO. 1578— TRIANGLE.

1. An electrometer. 2. A cabalistic word among the ancients. 3. Captious (obs.) 4. Boisterous. 5. Having sharp points. 0. A reporter. 7. A town of France. 8. An island of the Pacific. 9. An ancient city of Galilee. 10r A word used by small children. 11. Two vowels. 12. A consonant. Primals and Finals —A church festival. Lebanon, Ind. Nina B. NO. 1579— CHARADE. Little folks like my first and second; Big folks like my third. Those who are very fond of candy, Like my whole, I've heard. Walnut Hill. Mass. Adam O’Crat. no. 1580— pyramid. 1. A letter; 2. An animal; 3. A general; 4. A crystalline acid; 5. A council; 6. Unfortunate. The central, down, name a genus of plants. Galion, O. Dodo, no. 1581— geographical word square. 1. A seaport town of Spain; 2. A fortified town of Northern Italy; 3. A town of Arkansas; 4. An island of Sweden; 5. A village of Senegambia. May Blossom. Boston, Mass. no. 1582 — decapitations. 1. Behead a fish and leave a vessel; 2. Behead a stroke and leave a fish; 3. Behead a bird and leave a flower; 4. Behead a pachyderm and leave a liquor: 5. Behead to load and leave corrupt. East Dedham, Mass. El. Capitan. NO. 1583— DOUBLE ACROSTIC. (Six letter words.) 1. A kind of grass, including rye grass, shrub. 3. Malignity. 4. Cylindrical and slig tapering. 5. To encompass. 6. A large establishment. Primals —A Brazilian bird? Finals —A tour of the Southern States. Elletsville, lnd. W. T. Brown. (Answers in three weeks.] A Pleasing Story. We offer a small book, containing a pleasing story, for the best set of answers this week. Pussies Answered. By Adam O’Crat. Walnut Hill, Mass.: Noe. 1558.1559, 1560, 1561 (nearly). By Faith, Indianapolis: Nos. 1555, 1557, 1558, 1559, 1560, 1561 (partially). By W. C. D., Indianapolis: Nos. 1555, 1558, 1559.1560. - Prise Winner. Faith is entitled to the book tor Jsest solving this week.

Foot Notes. Uncle Theo provides a good enigma this week. Nina B. —We have taken the liberty to change the definitions of some of the words in your triangle puzzle. Dodo—Your work is fast becoming exhausted. Please let us have anew supply ere long. Faith—Very glad to hear from you. Please call around oftener. W. C. D.—Thanks for the list of answers. Let your visits be frequent. Mother’s Doughnuts. El Dorado, 1851. I’ve jest bin down ter Thompson’s, boys, ’N feelin’ kind o’ blue, I thought I’d look in at ‘"The Ranch,’ Ter find out what wuz new; When I seen this sign a-hangin’ On a shanty by the lake: “Here’s whar yer gets yer doughnuts Like yer mother used ter make.” I’ve seen a grizzly show his teeth; I’ve seen Kentucky Pete Draw out his shooter ’n’ advise A “tenderfoot” ter treat; But ntithin’ ever tuk me down ’N’ made my bet ders shake Like that sign about the doughnuts That my mother used ter make. A sort o’ mist shut out the ranch, ‘N’ standin’ thar instead, I sern an old white farm-house, With its doors all painted red. A whiff came through the open door—. Wuz I sleepin’ or awake? The smell wuz that of doughnuts Like my mother used ter make. The bees wuz huramin’ round the porch, Whar honeysuckles grew; A yellow dish of apple-sass Wuz settin’ thar in view. *N’ on the table, by the stove. An old-time ’ johnny-cake,’’ *N’ a platter full of doughnuts Like my mother used ter make. A patient form I seemed ter see, In tidy dress of black; I almost thought I head the words, “When will my boy come back?” *N’ then—the old sign creaked; But now it was the boss who spake: “Here's whar yer gets yer doughnuts Like yer mother used ter make.” Well, boys, that kind o’ broke me up, ’N’ ez I've “struck pay gravel,” • I rutlier think I’ll pack my kit, Vamose the ranch, ’n' travel. I’ll make the old f Iks jubilant, ’N\ if I don’t mistake, *> I’ll try tome o’ them doughnuts Like my mother used ter make. —Charles Follen Adams, in June Harper >.

The Doctors in New Orleans. New Orleans Picuyune. The social paralysis which had seized us was relieved by the advent of so many eminent medical inen. Men easily distinguished by their line, thoughtful faces and noble bearing. ITamertnn, it will be remembered, places the medical profession above the law in its effect upon mental development. Many of us have taken issue with Mr. llamerton upon this question, but all will acknowledge that a physician who meets the requirements of his profession must acquire habits of closest observation and ceaseless scientific inquiry. When these mental qualities are eombiued with the patience and gentleness possessed by all eminent physicians, the result must be a man superior by right of mind and heart to ordinary masouline creatures. No wonder the ladies love their doctor*. It is an affection quite as natural and far leas hurtful to the recipient than the admiration showered, poured, avalanched npon popular preachers. Watching the ways of women

with their clergymen. It id no wonder that the holy man disappears and a very conceited, affected and arrogant personage often appears in his guise. Women forget that young clergymen are quite like other men; that the same barriers should be maintained in their intercourse with the “mildest curate anywhere” that is observed in their dealings with Captain Absolute. The desire to lead a godly life and to draw others after him does not take away from a man all human sentiments and * passions; but his female parishioners act as if they supposed him to live far above the reach of flattery and foolery; hence the clerical scandals and the sneers of unbelievers. With doctors it is different. Although they, too, are popular idols, they see so much of the sad side of human life, they suffer so acutely from their professional mistakes, and from the uujtist criticisms of those who think physicians should be omnipotent, they are brought so often in contact with suffering they are powerless to relieve, that they drink daily antidotes to the Sweet poison, and are kept humble and wise. New Orleans baa sought in various ways to show appreciation of her distinguished guests. Many entertainment* have been devised for their delectation, pleasant affairs where citizen and stranger met to exchange courtesies and become friends. WHY THEY DO NOT MARRY. A Young Woman Explains a Social Problem —The Males Deteriorating;. New York Mail and Express. At a small party of workers and thinkers, a few nights ago, says a letter-writer in this city, 1 was in a group that discussed the distaste foj marriage which characterizes the girlhood of the day. One young lady had fortified herself with a newspaper clipping on the subject, which she drew from her pocket and read, as further substantiating her position. It was to the effect that husband-hunting maidens, young or old, were very much scarcer than of yore; that instead of being anxious to marry, girls were slot* of inducement in that direction. “It is true,” said a young lady. “I scarcely know a girl who wants to marry. They are learning something in the way of a profession, something that will interest them as well as support them —two roles in which husbands just now fail. The truth is, we are all scared away from any desire to marry by seeing howwretched those who do marry are. Wher-s would we look for husbands! Among the ‘snips.' and ‘sport?,’ and characterless young men tnafc fill our drawing-rooms) They are insufferable as mere acquaintances or beaux; who could contemplate them as husbands? I have always thought that if I could find a young man at all like my father I could love him and marry him; huta that school of men has vanished from tho younger ranks.” Nobody doubts that she expressed the convictions of a large representation of young Their lack of interest in marriage is not due to) the larger activities which continually open before women, but to the unattractive, unreliab.w material in the way of husbands. Women new women, and would love and marry as readier to-day as when the earth was new if they cam* In contact with men who arouse their respect? and admiration. The order of maidenhood that? could content itself with an inferior article o’! husband, merely for the sake of being married, has also vanished. The young woman of th period has too fnuch character and self-respect, to dread being an old maid so much that she would contract an 'uncongenial union to escape it. The same evening I had a chat with'my bright young hostess about inefficient men, a sort n! annex to the conversation just recorded. Sh wondered what would become of the human race if the men kept on deteriorating at the into of tho last twenty years. She declared it w; •* almost exceptional for the young men of firs - class society to support their wives. Th*-t married into rich families, and at the end of twm or three years were pensioners on the relation*' of their wives. “It is astonishing,” she stti. , “how few young women who are suppe.- ti to be rich really depend upon tht* husbands for luxuries or even support. Their fathers or grandfathers fumisis the money that supplies their home* oftener than the outside world knows of. Indeed, the daughter of the rich man is more tp ue pitied than the girl who fights poverty. She/Sees* fewer real men. Naturally she fancies that her ideal men must be somewhere, since they am not within her own circle, and she looks for them in extraordinary places—on the box of her father's coach and on huckster wagons or on tiia stage. Anything in the nature of efficiency attracts her, because she is sick of inefficiency The man who can drive a coach may be very unsteady in grammar, but his mastery of tho horses appeals more to her imagination than the fine phrases of ar. inefficient dude. It indicates a certain degree of force ai-d strength, and all women like that in men.” “Do you think the class of inefficient men ara really increasing?” I asked. “Alarmingly, and in all ranks of society, but most among the rich. I scarcely know a married woman intimately who feels secure—who has confidence in her husband’s energy, ability and efficiency. Look at the number of marri4 women engaged in some kind of business! It all means something. I don’t know what, but certainly it is the reverse of promising for tba future greatness of man. ”

The Realism of Science. Prof. Benedict, in Popular Science Monthly for Juno. "We are beginning to hear lamentations over the realism of our time. Not only are the gods dead, God is dead. Art finds no place for imagination, save in setting her to devise ways and means for a more complete nhotographic process. Among the crimes laid to the account of science, this is not the least; indeed, perhaps this may sum them all, that she has taken away our Lord and will show us nothing in return bufc the geologic formation of a sepulchre. While this charge is unjust, radically unjust, it must be allowed that the manner of commendation employed by many advocates of science is responsible, in a large measure, for our bread-and butter attitude. The fault lies in the original constitution of certain men—not that they are scientists, but that they are small scientists: men for whom a formula, or a compound, or a root, or a fact whatsoever, is the end. To know the most names of the classifications is to be saved; to apply chemistry in the manufacture of salable beer is to make “calling and election” sure. The devotion of these little men to science is not only at the expense of all that is highest, but is, as was intimated, largely responsible for the realism over which so many weep. Men of science, that is to say, “men” of science, are not accountable for deadnoss of soul. The wondor with which those early Greeks looked out upon the face of all things may not for one instant be compared with the wonder that fills the soul to-day before this stupendous universe. Because we have learned that color is not in sunset or rose, is there therefore no color? Is the marvel anywise diminished by knowing that, upon matter so adjusted and so acting as the brain is adjusted and acts, all color depends? Because there is no sound in bell, or breeze, or ocean, is there therefore no sound? And wherein is the wonder of it diminished when we have learned the construction o! the ear, its possible relation to a particular fold in the brain, and the necessity of this for all the harmonies that fill the soul with giory? Are we, the thinking, sorrowing, hoping selves, any the less real because all this thinking, all this sorrowing. and all this hoping depend in strictest sense upon that most highly organized form ot matter, the human brain?

Where It I* an Improvement. New York World. It is said that in the criticisms of the revised version of the Oid Testament much comment is heard over the new translation of Ecclesiastes ii, 17, which instead of “Vanity and vexation of ?)irit,” reads “Vanity and a striving after wind." his certainly is not a literary improvement. Yet in some pulpits it will be founa a truthful and appropriate change. I ' " ■ mm Becoming Extinct. Pittsburg rhronicle. A seven-foot skeleton has been found in Ohio, and an exchange says that “from the prominence of the cheek-bones it is supposed to be the remains of an Indian.” Such reasoning shows that the Ohio man is passing away, ami that bis anatomical peculiarities are no longer familiar to the public. Ceramics. Albany Times. “Dear me,® said a lady in Fifth avenue the other evening. “How the* China craze is growing! Here is a New York elub that is paying £I,OOO for a pitcher."