Rensselaer Union, Volume 8, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 December 1875 — Page 3

RENSSELAER. UNION. HORACE K.JAMES, Proprietor. RENSSELAER, - INDIANA.

NOWHERE TO GO. Nowhere to go! These harrowing words Came from a maiden sad and lone; By howling winds as, keen as swords Her fragile form and garb were blown. She paced the grim old streets and courts (With hunger pictured in her eyes), Those spots where savage want resorts, And hope, long baffled, sinks and dies. * The maiden ne’er had stained her name With any crime, but long she’d pined; She shunned the paths that led to shame, While love lay perfect in her mind. This heedless city, proud and vast, Where life’s great currents crosswise go, •Saw pot this creature rudely cast « Adrift, and dying of her woe. She heard the hum of restless crowds, While grief was written on her face; Iler rags, like thin and. tattered shrouds, Half hid and half revealed her grace. She yearned to catch some kindly eye, One face where pity might be seen; For earth seemed like a darkened sky That shows nol.wliere the sun has been. She wandered lofig, but died at last Of want- and woe, yet no one cared; Her unclosed eyes were heavenward cast, And with a glassy luster stared! Cold on the pavement stretched she lay, A marble pallor on each cheek; . Yet on her lips there seemed to play A fond and faint desire to speak. Nowhere to go! 0 God, how long Will these sad words strike on our ears? They’re ever falling from the tongue And mingling with the bitterest tears. They rise and fall on every side Where want without a crime may dwell— Where women burning miseries hi’de, And men their sorrows scorn to tell,. An age may come, God speed it on! When famished millions shall be less; And pity reach each friendless one With gifts designed to cheer and bless — An age to hush the tragic cries From hungering hosts in every land; Wherein the. pining poor may rise— Nu more ’tween death and want to stand! —A’. J/. Bradbury, in St. James' Magazine.

THE ECCENTRICITIES OF AN AGED DANDY.

There are but few persons who have resided in Paris for any length of time who 'do not remember the late Duke of Brunswick. whose follies, eccentricities and diamonds made him the talk of all Europe. A small volume, recently published in Paris, gives some strange and new details about this royal oddity. The Duke was born in 1804. He was the first child born to his parents, the Prince Frederick William, son and heir to the reigning Duke of Brunswick, and the Princess Marie Wilhelmina of Baden, sister of the then Empress of Russia and to the Queen of Sweden. The Duke’s youth, was a stormy and an adventurous one. His grandfather was killed at the battle of Jena, being blinded by a ball which put out both of his eyes, and he was borne from the field only to die a few days later of his wounds; and the ducal family were driven from their dominions. His father fell at the battle of Waterloo, and the young and throneless Duke was consigned to the guardianship of Ids uncle by marriage, George IV. The negotiations of Prince Metternich restored our hero to the throne of his fathers when he was nineteen years old. Two years later he contracted, while in England, a morganatic union with a young English lady of great beauty, Lady Charlotte Colville. ’The only ■child of this uidon, the Countess de Cirrey, was that daughter with whom he afterward had such a long and scandalous lawsuit. On the 7th of September, 1830, the revofution broke out which drove the adventurous Prince from his throne, and thereafter began the wandering, eccentric life which ended at Geneva a few years ago. According to his French biographer the Duke had a great influence in conferring upon France the doubtful blessing of the late Empire. One d?ty while Prince Louis Napoleon was a prisoner at Ham there came to him a messenger, bringing with him a paper which he presented to the Princg tor his signature. The Prince signed it and the man departed, leaving behind him as the price of that signature a package containing 800,000 francs—the golden key which was to unlock for the captive his prison doors. This man was M. Smith, Chief Treasurer to the Duke of Brunswick, and the paper was a treaty by which the two crownless exiles pledged themselves, the one to re-establish the Duke upon his throne, and to form, if possible, a united Germany, and the other to aid Prince Louis to gain his uncle’s crown. After the coup d'etat the Duke installed himself permanently in Paris. He purchased on the Rue Beaujon, near the Arc de Triomphe, the hotel which had formerly belonged to Lola Montez. There he

caused to be erected the huge and curious structure which, with its rose-colored walls and profuse gilding, seemed the very realization of a palace in a fairy tale. Into this marvelous building but few persons were allowed to penetrate. To effect a surreptitious entrance was almost an impossibility. The walls surrounding the house were of immense height and were covered by gilded spikes, with all of which an electric apparatus was so con•nepted that if one of them were touched a chime of electric bells was instantly set in motion. To gain entrance the would-be visitor must come provided with a password, a letter of introduction, or some potent or unmistakable reason for being admitted. Once within the walls he was introduced into an elevator lined with blue satin, which bore him gently to the ante-chamber of tlie Duke’s apartments. The bedroom of this eccentric gentleman was made entirely of iron—walls, ceiling and floor alike. It was, in fact, an immense iron cage, wherein the ex-sovereign, thanks to a dozen complicated pieces of machinery, could bid defiance to the thieves, and assassins, the fear of which poisoned his existehce. At one side of this apartment, and only to .be opened with its secret key, was a closet containing the gigantic strong-box, wherein was deposited his marvelous collection of diamonds. The strong-box, in itself a marvel of mechanism, was suspended by Tour chains in the cavity which it occupied, beneath which was a well dug deep beneath the foundations of the hotel, so that the Duke had but to press a spring to cause his treasure chest to disappear from view. Besides which, the closet was so constructed that, had anyone unacquainted with the secret lock essayed to open it, he would have received the discharge of a number of concealed gun-barrels arranged like a mitrailleuse. In his coffer tlie Duke kept hot only his diamonds but his bank-notes,his pajiers and his ingots of gold, manydf which, to escape from prying ing eyes and fingers, he caused to be disguised as cakes of chocolate. In that iron

box was ipclosed all that life held forhlm of interest or love. He was as much-afraid of assassins as Syvas of thieves, and surrounded his life th as many precautions as he did his jffealth. He never employed a cook, never jihrtaking at home of any food except a .cup of chocolate, which he prepared himself by the aid of a spirit lamp. The milk for this chocolate was brought to him direct from thecountry in a locked silver can, one key of which never left him, and the other was deposited with the farmer who supplied him, precautions which did not hinder him from insisting that his valet should always taste the first spoonful of the beverage when prepared. He always took his dinner at one of the great restaurants of the Boulevard, preferring usually the Maison d’Or. Once, when he was detained in the house by some slight indisposition, the Marquis de Planty, who was then his physician, scolded him fpr eating nothing but sweets when at home.' But he could not persuade the Duke to have a steak or a chop prepared for himself in his oWn house; he was forced to go out, to have the meal cooked himself, and to bring it to his royal patient', who exacted from him a solemn oath that he never lost sight of the eatables for a moment. Reassured on this point, the Duke made short work of his dinner, which he declared to have been the best he had ever eaten. He was, however, nothing of a gourmand, eating little, and never drinking wine, which had been forbidden to him in his youth by his physician, his usual beverage being ordinary beer. He was extravagantly fond, however, of fruits, ices', preserves and bonbons, of which he partook on all occasions without much regard to ceremony. Sometimes his magnificent carriage, with its four splendid horses, would be seen drawn up before the door of a fruiterer’s shop, while the proprietor of the equipage, seated therein, was engaged in devouring piles of peaches or of grapes, which were brought to him from the shop. At other times, when taking ices at Tortoni’s, he would pay largely for the privilege of going down into the kitchen and eating the ice-cream direct from the freezer. His great delight was to enter a confectioner’s shop and to eat as long and as much as he liked from the various piles of bonbons and crystallized fruits, leaving behind him on his departure two or three gold-pieces to pay for his depredations. He passed nearly his whole time in the house. He remained in bed, where he read, wrote and received his intimate friends, till about four o’clock in the afternoon, after which his toilet always took up an immense time, so Jhat during a great part of the year he never saw the sun. The excessive care which he took of his person and the artificial character of his make-up are matters of public notoriety. He painted his face, or caused it to be painted, with all the minuteness and artistic finish that might be bestowed upon - a water-cokir drawing. His beard, on the culture of which he bestowed much time, was combed, perfumed and dyed daily. As to his wigs, he possessed them by dozens; and in respect to these wigs and his manner of using them an amusing story is told. A celebrated dame of the demimonde being presented to the Duke at the opera one evening, expressed to him an ardent desire to inspect the wonders of the fairy place of which she had heard so much. The Duke gallantly promised that she should have that pleasure that very evening, after the opera. Accordingly, when the performance was over he escorted her to his' hotel, took her up-Stairs by means of the satin-lined elevator, and introduced her into a dimlylighted room, where he left her under the pretext of ordering more lamps. The lady waited some minutes for his return, and finally, becoming impatient, she began to look about her to discover where she was. To her amazement, she saw in one corner Of the room a head which stared at her with motionless and glassy eyes. She rushed in terror to the door, but found that it was fastened on the outside. , A second glance around the ‘dimly-lighted apartment revealed the fact that she was surrounded by heads, not five, or ten, or twenty, but thirty, all of which bore a ghastly likeness to the Duke himself. Her persistent shrieks at last brought to her assistance a lackey, who opened the door and released her. This mysterious apartment was simply the room where the Duke kept his wigs, and the heads were wax models of his own countenance, each differing slightly in coloring or in the arrangement of the hair. Each day the Duke made choice of the particular wig and style of visage which he wished to assume, and his valet was charged with the task of reproducing the color of the wax model upon his features.

His dress was always extremely elegant, though sometimes very eccentric. He delighted in embroidered dressing-gowns and in magnificent uniforms. Among his servants was numbered for years a magnificent negro, black as jet, and of colossal stature, who, attired in the Mameluke costume of the very richest materials, covered with embroideries and blazing with diamonds, was always on guard in the ante-chamber of the Duke’s palace, or else waited for him in the vestibule of any house in which he went as a guest. Some one once asked this magnificent attendant concerning the duties of his post. “I’m for looks and not for use,” he made answer, showing his snowy teeth. One night at a ball given by Prince Jerome Bonaparte the Duke’s carriage was delayed for a few moments. The negro came forward to announce its arrival, and immediately he was surrounded by a number of the guests, who were curious to see this splendid specimen of servitude, whereupon the Duke, in his impatience, cried out: “ Selim, clear the way there! Draw your saber, and cut me down some hall a dozen of these imnortinant nrmif nx/m .. . _ . p”->« v.vwiuiup ; - _ Imagine the effect of this outburst in the midst of a crowd composed of the most elegant ladles and the highest dignitaries of the new Empire! If there was anything on earth that the Duke loved better than diamonds it was a lawsuit. He would go to law about the merest trifle or the most insignificant sum. Once he sued a washerwoman about a bill of seven francs. A single watch, which he sent to a jeweler to be repaired, and of which the back was formed of a single ruby, was in itself the subject of twelve lawsuits. The erection of his hotel on the Rue Beaujon furnished occasion for ten more! He said hitnself, just before he died, that he had squandered millions in that way, and that justice was a lottery. As to his diamonds, he consecrated fabulous sums to the formation of his «ollection, which speedily became celebrated throughout Europe. Among the most remarkable of the trinkets which he possessed was a pair of epaulets, formed, not of gold thread, but of magnificent yellow diamonds from Brazil. They were valued at $200,000 each, and were exhibited at the Paris Exposition in 1855, watched day and night by four policemen, who took turns in mounting guard over

the, crystal case which contained this treasure. TheSe epaulets gave rise one evening to a curious ■ and comical scene. It was at a ball given by the Count de Nieqwerkerke. The Duke, in the uniform of a Brunswickian General, was blazing with diamonds, and had on the famous epaulets. A lady, passing by, remarked to the person who accompanied her: “ Only look at those epaulets, made of topazes!” “Topazes, madam!” cried the Duke, ' indignant at the insult offered to his jewels; “they are diamonds —the finest yellow diamonds of Brazil. Look well at them if you never saw any before.” Thus adjured, the lady, nothing loth, examined minutely the dazzling epaulets; then she passed to the orders that the Duke wore and so prolonged her inspection that she attracted a number of other lady spectators, and the Duke was soon surrounded by a crowd of ladies, all admiring his gorgeous gems and causing him to resemble very much a Palais Royal window with its throng of gazers. He never forgot nor forgave the broken promise of Napoleon 111. to reinstate him on his paternal throne. One day, being present at some scientific experiments shown before that sovereign on reducing diamonds to vapor, the Emperor offered, laughing, to sacrifice all his diamonds to the cause of science if the Duke would do as much.

“Ah, sire!" made answer the Duke, with a meaning glance, “1 am only a poor exile and am forced to be economical. Were I ever to have the happiness of mounting a throne as your Majesty has done I would promise to be more generous—and I keep my promises.” His daughter’s conversion to Catholicism seemed to arouse in his breast a terrible enmity against her. Up to that time he had treated her as became his acknowledged child, but afterward whatever heart he possessed seemed closed against her. When she married the Count de Cirrey, though he gave his consent to the alliance, he was only represented at the ceremony by one of his chamberlains. Prayers, entreaties and finally long years of lit'gation were exhausted in the effort to make him provide for her and for her childrep., but in vain. An adverse decision of tlie French tribunal in this question drove him from his fairy palace on the Rue Beauion to Geneva. No particle of his immense wealth was bequeathed to the Countess. He at first intended to leave his whole fortune to the Prince Imperial, and a will to that effect was actually drawn up. When the war with Prussia was declared the Duke, then once more installed in Paris, hastened to remind Louis Napoleon of the old compact between them, and claimed from him in advance, as the conqueror of Germany, the fulfillment of his ancient-.

promise. But a few weeks later the Duke was forced to fly with his diamonds from -before the advancing legions of the Prussians. He took refuge anew in Geneva, and there, in March, 1871, he drew up the new will, which constituted the city of Geneva his sole heir. On the 18th of August, 1873, he was engaged in a game of chess quite late in the afternoon; suddenly he arose, and saying to his adversary: “Do not cheat me," he passed into the next room. These were his last words. When his attendants, surprised that he did not return, went to seek him, they found him in the agonies of death, and in a few moments he expired. Thus ended that strange, heartless, eccentric, useless life whose commencement had been surrounded with such a halo of romance and chivalry. It was this sudden death that preserved to the city of Geneva the inheritance of the eccentric old voluptuary, who had scandalized its Calvinistic walls by his manners for three years past. Having carelessly thrown some water from a tumbler out of a window, it had drenched a passer-by, who forthwith threatened the Duke with legal proceedings. Furious at the threat, he resolved to tear up his will, to return to Paris and to turn his back on ungrateful Geneva forever. He would restore his rosy Parisian palace which had been sadly damaged during the Commune; he would go back to the delights of his Parisian life. His lawyer and his steward had been sent for and preparations for his departure had already been begun. But, before he could make ready, he was summoned to depart on a long journey, and one which knows no return. His undestroyed will bequeathed his treasures to the city wherein he breathed his last, and Charles, Duke of Brunswick, degenerate descendant of the heroes of Jena and of Waterloo, took his place amid the faded figures of a forgotten past.

RELIGIOUS AND EDUCATIONAL.

—The Methodist Episcopal Church has over 140 Christian women engaged daily in spreading Gospel truth in India. The total number of adult baptisms in the different missions in that Empire during last year was about 3,000. —The Cumberland Presbyterian “ Pacific Synod” has agreed upon a basis of union with the Presbyterian “ Synod of the Pacific’’ under,the name of the Presbyterian Church of the United States. The basis prescribes that the doctrine of the united synod shall be in conformity with the confession of faith of the Cumberland Presbyterian Church, and the government shall be that of the Presbyterian Church. —The New England Journal of Education is tried with the current mispronunciations of words and is moved to ask if ortheopy “ ought not to take its place in a specific daily exercise? Ought not that large body of words currently mispronounced, amounting to some 3,000 or more, to be taken up seriatim and be made a careful study by both teachers and pupils? Why not have pronunciation distinctly and regularly taught?” —Nearly all the New England States are making preparations for a display of their educational work at the Centennial Exhibition. The Worcester County Industrial Institute, of Worcester, Mass., has appropriated $3,000 to defray the expense of its exhibit, and has applied for 5,000 square feet of space. The Massachusetts Institute of Technology is also taking measures to secure a thorough exhibit of its various departments, and the Boston Natural History School intends, if possible, to make a complete display of the natural history of New England. » —The Presbyterian reports that the minutes of the General Assembly give Philadelphia the largest Presbyterian church membership in the United States. These are seventy-three congregations and 22,720 New York has thirty-seven Presbyterian churches and 15,514 communicants. The seventy-three churches>of Philadelphia raised hist year $047,746, of which $417,553 wete for the purposes of the congregations themselves, and $230,113 folrbenevolent objects. The thirty-seven churches of New York raised and reported $737,324, of which $362,870 were for the purposes of tlie congregations themselves, and $374,454 for benevolent objects.

A LITTLE WHILE. A little while with tides of dark and light Tlie njoon shall till; Warm Autumn’s gold beehanged to shrouding white And inter’s chill. ' A little while shall tender human Howers In beirtity blow; - * And ceaselessly through shade and sunnjf hours loath’s harvest grow. A little while shall tranquil planets speed Round ccnthal flame; New empires spring utid pass, new names succeed « And lapse from fame. A little while shall cold star-tapers burn Through time’s brief night; Then shall my soul’s beloved One Return With dayspring bright. > How oft in golden dreams I see Him stand. I list His voice, As winning largess from His lifted hand The poor rejoice; ,■ But waking bears that vision dear away, My better part, And leaves me to this pale and empty day, This longing heart. I cannot see Thee, but I love Thee.' Oh, Thine eyes that read The deepest secrets of the spirit know ’Tis love indeed! A little while; but ah! how long it seems! nMy Jesus, come. Surpass the rapture of my sweetest dreams, And take me home! \ r—Sunday Magazine.

A Child Saved.

In his Sunday morning sermon at the Rink in Brooklyn Mr. Moody gave an account of a young lady who yyas sent to a fashionable boarding-school, where she met one faithful Christian, whose example and influence led her to conversion. When siie returned home her parents were annoyed to find her a Christian, for they wanted her to mingle in the first circles. Here the speaker broke off with a bold and striking apostrophe. “ What is the best society? where is the best society? In dainty drawing-rooms, among silken curtains and gorgeous furniture and velvet carpets? No; the first circle is around the throne; the best society is with Elijah and Elisha and the prophets, with John and James and Peter and the apostles. Give your hearts to God and He will introduce you to the best society.” And so, as it seemed, this young lady thought, for she remained faithful. She went to the Sunday-school of her church and asked the Superintendent for a class, but he, who only knew her as a fashlbn-seeking girl, did not give her what she-asked. So she picked up a little street Arab, and, hand in hand, walked him into the Sunday-school room and asked the Superintendent for permissionto have her little boy in a class all by himselt, which was granted. When that boy heard the children sing it took him of! his feet, as the saying is, and on his return to his home he told his mother that he had been among the angels. She questioned him and said: “That was a Sunday-school; don’t go there any more, or I’ll tell your father.” But he ■went next Sunday, and the father was duly informed and the boy duly flogged.* But he went again and again, and took his whipping every time cheerfully, until at last he said to his father: “ Daddy, won’t you flog me before I go, so that the thoughts of it mayn’t, bother me in the Sunday-school ?” The father saw he couldn’t whip him out of it, so he tried to bribe him. All the week the boy peddled apples in the depot; so he promised him if he did not go to the Sundayschool he might peddle for himself on Saturday afternoons. The boy agreed, and went immediately to the young lady and asked her if he might come to her house and be taughton the Saturday afternoons, because his father was determined he should not go to the Sunday-school. She gladly consented, and opened week by week his young heart to the truths of Christianity.

Shortly afterward his foot slipped when he was peddling his apples at the windows of a railway carriage, and the train went over both Ids legs. He asked the doctor who was dressing his horrible wounds: “Doctor, shall I live to get home?” “No, my poor boy,” said the doctor; “you’re dying now.” “Then,” said he huskily, “tell ’em at home I died a Christian,” and so passed away. When that young lady appears before the great throne she will not be a stranger, for that boy whose soul she'saved will take her by the hand and lead her to Jesus. And he will watch for her coming patiently, and spring to meet her when she comes.

Oriental Topographical Corps.

The corps is incorporated under the laws of New York, is a national and un. denominational organization. It has as its local correspondents some of the ablest scientists in Northern Africa and Western Asia, thus securing a large amount of first-class work at small expenditure of money. Among its representative men are Rev. Dr. Duryea, Dr. Conant, Dr. James Strong, the encyclopediaist; Col. Paine, the famous explorer and military engineer, and others well known. The corps has already done a large amount of work in the preparation of maps and pictures. Oil paintings of Jerusalem, Mounts Taber and Carmel, and other subjects executed by artists for the corps araccumulating as the nucleus of a gallery soon to be opened. The maps of the corps are provided with a scale, which enables one to find a place instantly. Subscriptions to this work, varying from five dollars upward, entitle the subscriber to» maps, pictures or other scientific and are tistic matter to the full value of his contribution. The contributors to this work are among the most prominent men of the country, who give full testimony to its value. Another expedition is in preparation by the corps to the Euphrates under George May Powell, who led the previous one. An article in Scribner's Montidy, of June, 1874, entitled “Oriental Exploration,” and one in the Missionary HeraUl, of April, 1875, “Debt of Science,” contain Valuable information in this connection. Mr. Herbert A. Lee, 245 Broadway, New York, is Treasurer of the corps. < » The Christian must be filled with one spirit, guided by one.standard, throughout‘Nis whole existence. The same refreshing breezes visit him while toiling through the Valley of Humiliation, or climbing the Delectable#Mountains, resting in the land of Beulah, or passing through the Dark River made bright by the faces of shining ones leaning from the other side. In the falterings and the triumphs of his course his need is the same; the air that strengthens him, the only air in which he can breathe freely, is the pure atmosphere of Light and Love that flows down to him from his Father’s House, through the open gates of the Beautiful City and over the Celestial Hills. —Lucy Larcom. Voting is a poll try snow, and the victors firing but the roosters.

Our Youngr Folks. READ DOLL, , You needn’t be trying to comfort me—l tell you my dolly is dead! There’s no use in saying she isn’t, with a crack like that in her head. It’s just like you said it wouldn’t hurt much to have my tooth out, that day; And then when the man ’most pulled my head off, you hadn’t a word to say. And I guess you must think I’m a baby, when you say you can mend it with glue 1 ! Asif I didn’t know better than that! Why, just suppose it was vou ? You might make her. look all mended—but what do I care for looks? Why, glue’s for chairs, and tables, and toys, and the backs of books! My dolly! my own little daughter! O, but it’s the awfulest crack! It just makes rqe sick to think of the sound when her poor head went whack Agaim-t that horrible brass thing that holds up the little shelf. Now, Nursey, what makes you remind me? 1 know that I ’did it myself! I tliink you must be crazy—you’ll get her another head! What good would forty heitds do her? I tell you my dolly is dead! And to think I hadn’t quite finished her elegant new spring hat! And I took a sweet ribbon of hers last night to tie on that horrid cat! When my mamma gave me that ribbon—l was playing out in the yard— She said to me, most expressly: “ Here’s a ribbon for Hildegarde.” .And I went and put it on Tabby, and Hildegarde saw me do it; But I said to myself: “O, never mind, I don’t believe she knew it!” But I know that she knew it now, and I just believe, I do, That her poor little heart was broken, and so her head broke, too. 0, my baby! my little baby! I wish my head had been hit! For I’ve hit it over and over, and it hasn’t cracked a bit. But since the darling is dead, she’ll want to be buried, of course; We will take my little wagon, Nurse, and you shall be the horse; And I’ll walk behind and cry; and we’ll put her in this, you see— This dear little box—and we’ll bury her then under the maple tree. And papa will make me a tomb-stone, like the one he made for my bird; And he’ll put what I tell him on it —yes, every single word! I shall say: “ Here lies Hildegarde, a beautiful doll, who is dead; ■: She died of a broken heart and a dreadful crack in her head.” —St. Nicholas for December.

HOW THE CHILDREN GOT BREAK FAST.

Mamma was so tired! An unusual number of household duties had made her day a very hard one, and now at night she leaned back in the' 3 big chair with such a weary look in’her eyes that loving Nettie saw it and said: “ Mamma, have you had a hard day?” “ Yes, dear, very.” “Why can’t we have a servant, like other folks?” broke in impetuous Robbie. “ We could, dear, if papa was alive;” and the sadness deepened. “ Well, when I’m a big man I’ll work for you,” said Robbie, bravely. Mamma gave him a grateful look. All at once Robbie’s bright eyes espied Nettie making mysterious signals behind mamma’s arm-chair. The motion was evidently for him to leave the room, and with art worthy of an older head he said: “ Well, I guess I’ll go and find my top,” and walked out to the kitchen, wondering what it all meant. He had not long to wait. Nettie soon appeared with shining face, and then ensued such an animated whispering that mamma, in the adjoining room, must have thought that some terrible plot was brewing. For some unknown reason the children did not sleep very soundly that night, and as the early sun began to peep into their room, wide-awake Robbie, from his little bed, called softly: “ Most time, Nettie?” “Yes,” £;aid Nettie, briskly, “time to begin;” with which mysterious words she hastily began to dress. Shoes in hand, the children stole noiselessly down the stairs. “ Now, Nettie, ’member you said I might make the fire.” “Y’es; but, Robbie, I wish you let me. I know you can’t do it.” “ Can,” said Robbie, stoutly, in no wise disposed to yield his rights. “Well, run down-cellar and bring up the things I told you last night, while I set the table.” Robbie soon returned, puffing under his heavy load, and there was silence in the kitchen for some time. Nettie dexterously set the table quite to her own satisfaction, despite the alarming clatter of the dishes. She broke only two plates and one cup during the operation, and congratulated herself upon having done so well. Robbie’s mysterious silence and a strong smell of smoke combined to draw Nettie to the kitchen, and she could not resist laughing at the boy’s comical aspect. He was kneeling before the stove, blowing like an animated bellows, his cheeks distended and red as two rosy apples with his exertions. He looked up, as Nettie entered, with a distressed face and a black dab on the end of his funny little nose. Nettie shrieked and then clapped her hands over her mouth as she thought of the sleeping mother above. “ Why, Robbie, mattei?” “ Matter ’nough,” said Robbie, testily. “Fire won’t burn.” Nettie removed-the stove-lids and peered into the smoky depths, soon -pxclaiming: “ You’ve forgotten the charcoal,” then, with a gasp: “Why, Robbie Stacy, as sure’s I’m alive the back draught is shut!” Robbie stared, shamefacedly, at her. “ Here, you run down and get the charcoal while I Clean out this mess, and be quiet or mamma ’ll be down.” Robbie, glad of an excuse to get away, trotted off nimbly. With their united efforts the fire was soon burning brightly, but the floor was stream with coal, ashes and bits of wood. In fact, I firmly beheve that the children had put more fuel outside the stove than in it! “Now, Robbie, you go and feed the chickens whWe I get ..breakfast,” said Nettie, wisely, thinking that Robbie’s room was better than his company. He came back in about fifteen minutes. “My! Nettie, what’s burning?” exclaimed he, sniffing the air. “My toast,” answered Nettie, with flushed face. “ I forgot it,” and she scraped vigorously at the hard, brown slice. ' ■‘J “ There, does that look bad?”. “ No,” said Robbie, “ only kind of mussy.” . " “ I must make some tea; mamma likes tea. Robbie, I wish ydur boots did not

make quite so much noise/* TuSTtemper growing irritable Mta.manjßU another housewife’s under her taarfifolirrilres. The tea-kdttle was soon singing its cheerftil song, and NMtie’s' I depressed spirits rose under the enlivening effects of its music. i < / > Vvf “ I wish I <?ould cook. meat.’,’ die said preseritiy. “Pooh! lean/’ said confident «Rbbbie. “Just pour some water in a pan; put the meat in, and let it kpldtter till irs ‘ done. I’ll doit.” ' ' > livered so solemnly; “ we’ll wait till some other time for tlrtt.”’’ • ts “Tlie tea is lioilihg’,”’ Screamed Robbie, excitedly; •• I see the sifetfte.!’ “ That’s steam; now, Robbie, wclre all ready, you call mamma, b and her little tired face beamed with satiyfoqtiqn. So Robbie’s boots went creaking noisily up the stairs and entered the fctetn where mamma lay with closed eyes,, but, «a suspicious smile on her lips, topil appearance tranquilly sleeping. n >otW| “Mamma, wakeup! Beckfus’ isready,” shouted Robbie, as like a very dirty, rosy cherub he bent,over her. Mamma opened her eyes sleepily. v “ Wlmt, Robbie?” “ Why, it’s a s’prise. Isn’t you s’prised, mamma?” Mamma allowed that she-was, and, getting up, began to dress nimbly, wondering if the dears supposed that she bad slept through all their talk and clatter. Robbie, impatient, hurried heY,’ and as soon as she was ready ran down-stairs before her in great glee, calling td expectant Nettie, “We’recoming.” Mamma followed after, and when she entered the rbom stooped to kiss the flushed face of Nettie, saying: “ Well, little woman, this is a surprise!” in atone which more- than repaid the child for her morning’s trouble. They sat down to the littlfe table, and mamma firmly closed her eyes to bits of broken crockery and other evidences of the “ s’prise.” Bless their dear little hearts, not a word but of praise would she s&y, “ So my children wanted' to help me,” she observed, taking a piece of Nettie’s unfortunate toast. “Yes, mamma, we knew you were so tired last night.” “ ©id you see my jolly fire, mamma?” burst forth Robbie. t “ No, dear, but I must See ft ette first thing after breakfast. What hid yon make, Nettie, tea or coffee ?” “ Tea,” said Nettie, with dancing eves. Mamma commenced to pour it out, "but suddenly stopped and leaped back, striving in vain tocheck the laughter wJUcK would come. —Nettiestarcthigtrasr;~WasYnanima crazy ? .. “ Nettie,” she said, as soon as she could recover her voice sufficiently Jo speak, “ didn’t you forget to put in the tea, my dear?” 3 Poor Nettie; she looked* ready to burst into tears at‘ Robbie’s loud laugh; when mamma added kindly: “ Never-' mind, dear; older people than you make worse mistakes.” Then in her cheery way she began to relate some funny stories of her own blunders when a young housekeeper, and Nettie forgot her own mortificatipn in hearty laugh. Bo the breakfast ended merrily after all. —Stella Stuart, in Christian Union.

A Slight Misunderstanding.

The Gartenlaube tells the following: Just previous to Abdel Kader’s departure from Paris in the fall of 186 q Emil Girardin gave a grand entertainment in honor of the Emir, to which he invited all his Ijterary friends and notable acquaintances. In the course of the evening Girardin said to Abdel Kader: “I should esteem it a favor if you would accept 1 My Two Sisters’ as a trifling memento ot this day.” “My Two Sisters” (the latest drama by the speaker) was just then creating an extraordinary furor. The interpreter, however, forgot tp mention .this fact. The hero of the evening and t witn'h stately bow, folded his arms across Ms breast, and, turning to his said: < “ I shall consider myself happy in accepting your gift, but as riiy seraglio is rather crowded at presentliahould like to provide suitable apartments before receiving the ladies.” 3 Amidst shouts of langhter the matter was explained to the obliging Emir. Another storyis told abodt hiin ! . while captive and confined m a French, fortress, that became his residence ip the meantime. His children received instructions in French and writing from a professor who daily visited the prison for that purpose. Abdel, was so pleased with this teacher that he startled the studious fellow one day by presenting him with one of his wives. The poor sohl, who, by the wav, was already provided with a wife, and one possessing a good share bf that superfluous temper for which Xantippe is so widely celebrated, was not particularly rejoiced with the Emir’s generosity, and had the greatest difficulty to make him understand why he could not accept the gift, or why his eyes and scalp Would be in danger if he ventured to introduce a second wife into his household.

Headed Him Off.

The Commercial Bulletin tells this story: An insurance agent who had expended fifteen minutes of eloquent argument with a well-known Boston business man was brought to a temporary pauso by the latter’s quietly opening a drawer of his desk and taking therefrom a skull upon which was inscribed, “ All that’s left of the last drummer that called,” and placing it before him. r! “ A capital idea,” remarked the drummer. “Yes,” said the merchant, “ and we propose to add to our collection.” “ Very good,” was the reply- “J shall be happy to aid you,* and in case you take a ride in our offica .will agree to furnish you an inscription for the second skull.” “ And what will that be?” inquired the merchant. . b ■- ’ “ All that was left of the man that was called on, except his insurance in the Bonanza Life Insurance Company.” 1 —: ; ’ —The Board of Hebrew Ministers of Philadelphia have sent a Communication to the Board of Education ih that cityasking that the use of Dp Wayland's " Elements of Moral Sclehcd” be discontinued in the public schools, on the ground thut its teachings are objectionable to | Jewish parents. —The fifty-second Baptist State Convention ot Connecticut embraces 128 churches, 19,068 comimiuicauts, 137 Sundayschools and 17,152 pupils. The sum of $12,442 was raised during the year to aid jveak churches, and thirty-four of them, deceived assistance.