Rensselaer Union, Volume 9, Number 25, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 March 1877 — Page 6

Snobbery in England.

r IVy«mthtek flunkeyim in Engird died out under the Mrorem of “the Boob grievously, as Doglxniy bw*. educated at the City of London J was nominated to clerkship in the City of London docks. He passed a satiafijctory examination, but was informed that his services would not be required. Why? Because his father was a coachman! Yet Lord Beaconsfield was an attorney's clerk, and his wife a milliner; Mr. Adams, Queen’s counsel, who was Governor of Hour Kong, was a printer's reader,and his wife a seamstress, ft may well lie asked who are those snobs of the City of London docks, who disqualify a young fellow on grounds dial arc no bar io the learned professions, nor to Ute civil service. Borne years ago, I had the honor of a special engagement to attend a grand National ball at the dowager City of Bath, to describe the scene fbr the leading journal there. I was requested to go by a back staircase, into the orchestra, as it was impossible to gat a newspaper man an invitetian, for tlie committee had refused tickets to the daughters of tlie Mavor because their father was a linen-draper. I need hardly say that 1 described that ball, but not in the local paper, and I afterward learned that no tradesman was allowed to sit in Ute dress circle of thfe Bath theater. I once resided in a western county. For the time being the High Sheriff of a county is the direct representative of the Queen. It is an honorary office, and costs the man who holds it ten or fifteen thousand dollars at least. He meets the Judges of Assize in state, attended by his javelin men and retainers. The Judges are forbidden to receive his hospitality, for some old-world reason or another. They are therefore entertained at dinner once'at least during the assize by the Lord Lieutenant. I had the honor of an invitation to dine at one of these banquets by the Earl of 8., but he excluded the High Sheriff because he was a manufacturer. Not even the royal seal of Majesty protected the plebeian Sheriff from the aristocratic snub direct.—Loudon Cor. N. Y. Timet.

The Wailtag-Place at Jerusalem.

Let ns get hence under the deep wall of tbetemple and witness the one solitary spectacle in all the city that is reaUy and truly affecting. It is Friday at the Jews' willing-place Marrow, crooked and filthy streets lead down under the hili of the temple. As you approach the open space against the huge blocks of stone that are imbedded in the foundations of the walls, your ear is startled by a chorus of agonizing cries. Buch a •wail might have ascended from the streets after that night of the death of the first-born. Turn, ingout of the slippery and ill-smelling passage into the place of wailing, I beheld a multitude of men, women and children apparently stricken with a common sorrow that could only find expression or relief in tears and piercing cries. There might hare been 200 mourners; a •very small company of strangers stood apart and looked on in amazement. Old men with snowy beards, okl women withcred and weather-beaten, sat against the wall opposite the sacred stenes of the temple reading their prayer-books and nodding their heads quickly and violently back and forward as if they would impress upon the very air the earnestness of their muttered prayers. Young lads stood against the temple wall and read their litanies, kissing the stones from time to time with affectionate reverence. The women were more demonstrative, and as they threw their hands above their heads, wrung their hands and wept bitterly. Their cries and soba were echoed by the chorus of mourners, and a hysterical wave of emotion passed through the entire assembly, that swayed to and fro like the corn in the wind. Some of these mourners knelt apart, and, with their foreheads pressed against the wall, worn smooth with kisses, their eyes pouring rivers of tears all the while, they talked to those huge blocks, passionately, as if they meant the very stones should hear them .and reply. Small wicks floating in oil were lit from time to time by those who jhad just come to wail. An attendant kept a supply on hand, and those who gave him a trifling fee were at once served with a light, which was, however, left burning in bis charge. A few of the mourners knelt in meditation; a few gave way to -violent grief—a grief that seemed to. upon despair. All were evidently thoroughly in earnest as they repeated .over and over this litany: . For the place that lie* desolate. We ait in solitude and mourn. For the place that is destroyed. We sit in solitude and mount. For the walls that are overthrown: For our majesty that is departed: Forour great non who lie dead: For the precious stones that are burned: For the priests who have stumbled: For the Kina* who have despised Him, We sit in solitude and mourn. On every lip I seemed to hear the name -Jerusalem said over and over. It was this antiphon, chanted by each in turn, accompanied by a nervous swaying of the body and a total disregard of the surroundings: Spray Thee have mercy on Zion! ather the children of Jerusalem. ite, haste. Redeemer of Zion! Speak to the heart of Jerusalem. May beauty and majesty surround Zion! Ah. tarn Thyself mercifully to Jerusalem. May the kirgdom soon return to Zion! Comfort those who mourn our Jerusalem. May peace and joy abide with Zion, And the branch (of Jesse) spring up at Jerusa MttL Until sunset these men and women cry ■out to the stone, beat their breasts ana weep their tears, some of them no doubt believing that the Kingdom of David is at hand. Of all the shrines that are prayed over and fought over within the city of the Grt*t King, I have found none that so touched me or filled me with so sincere emotion as that narrow court under the anciqitwailof “theholy and beautiful house,” with the sun sinking on the despair of an outcast people and the ab burdened with their unceasing lamentations—Charite Warren Stoddard' • Letter it San Franeieto Chronide.

Insect Larvx in the Human Body.

A curious account of the occurrence of the lame of the Bot-fly (OMruTe) in the cellular membrane of the human body wap presented to the Detroit meeting of the American Association for the Ad. vancement of Science, by Dr. Charles H. Alien, of Chicago. The victim attacked by the parasites was a boy ten years of age, who hat* spent the summer of 1871 at Charlottesville, in Prince Edvard’s Island, and when there had been in the habit of bathing in a pond in a pasture wherefa large number of cattle were grazing. While his body was exposed during bathing, the species of Bot-fly which infest cattle Is supposed to have deposited her seas beneath the akin m March, 1872, Dr. Allen was called to *^ BOd Md 1 feCbk U Dd

nights, occasioned by “sensations of pricking, crawling and biting,” which had been Intensified during the previous ten days. Ou examination of the parts thus affected, a yellowish line was observed, extending from the left to the right side of the front body, while a leA distinct line extended up the right front chest to the right sub-maxillary gland, over which the cellular tissue was puffed out. Above and behind the right ear was a swelling the size of two peas laid side by side. The boy affirmed that the itching sensations had followed the exact course defined by the lines, and terminating in the swelling. On opening the little tumor, a light veltow serum flowed from the wound, and by pressure a larva was forced out. Two days • later a second larva was taken from a similar swelling which had developed nt a point directly over the spine, and an inch or two below the shoulder-blades. A dav or two after, a third tumor, marking its presence by irritating sensations. was found on the top of the head. The hair was cut over it, but, the incision being delayed, the swelling was found on the following day to have moved an inch. Lana number three was then removed from it. Some days further on, the boy suffered unusually severe irritation in the left wrist, where a fourth swelling was visible. The incision was postponed until the next dav, for the purpose of continued observation, when, at an early hour in the morning, to relieve the misery of the child, the lancet was brought into requisition. The swelling was now gone from the wrist, but a discolored spot about the left elbow betrayed the wltereaboute of the larvae, which was thus dragged forth to the light. . Two of the larvse were sent to Dr. Hagen, of Harvard University, who declared them to agree with the figures and descriptions given by Dr. Brauer, of Vienna. of the first larval state of a European species of the Bot-fly named Hypoderma Diana. The other two larvae were sent to Dr. Brauer, of Vienna, who confirmed the opinion of Dr. Hagen that they Itelonged to the species Hypoderma Diana, and were in the first stage of larval life. In answer to an inquiir of a prominent physician in Prince Edward’s Island, it was ascertained that two cases of patients suffering from the attack of the Bot-fly had been some years ago reported in the island, but neither of them had been observed by medical men. In Tropical America instances of a species of Bot-fly laying its eggs under the skin of man have been frequently noted. A question of peculiar interest attaching to the case observed in Chicago relates to the power of motion possessed by the larvte of Oestrida. Or the three groups—the gastriculoe, and caviculoe, and thF sub-culicula — into which the Oestrida are divided, the larvse of the first two are known to move in the early stages of their existence; but entomologists have heretofore asserted that the larvse of the third group, to which the Hypoderma Diana belongs, have not the power of locomotion. The circumstances exhibited in the case under discussion show without a doubt that the larvie of the Siibenticuloe move when disturbed, and may wander very far through the cellular tissue. The first larvse had traveled a distance of thirtv inches, and the fourth at least six inches. It is remarked by Dr. Allen that, “ After these larvse had commenced locomotion they may naturally have become restless from want of air, since their respiratory apparatus is situated in the hind part of the body, and the lucid spot on the 4Wp*of the swelling is evidently the channel through which the air may enter the respiratory organs?’— Chicago Tribune.

Inconveniences of Fashion.

Fashion leads us all more or less by the nose, and makes us do pretty much as she pleases. We surrender ourselves, body and soul, to her guidance, and the form and motions of the one, as well as the character and principles of the other, are to a great degree governed by her directinghand. It is surprising—inexplicable, in fact —when we consider the vagueness of the origin of the sovereignty of Fashion, that her prerogative should be so little questioned. If this were exercised in a manner always conformable to our desires, tastes and conveniences, it might be easy to account for the readiness with which its claims are acknowledged; but so far is Fashion from adapting the government of her subjects to their nature and disposition that she seems only to exact submission in thwarting them. In dress, where the absolute authority of Fashion is so obvious, the whole body is yielded up to her without resistance, and the wooden figure of the jigging puppet is no more in the hand ana at the pull of the showman than is the human frame under her control. How cruelly this power is exercised we need hardly say; for who is not conscious of being forced at times to give up his ease, his comfort*—the very use, in fact, of his limbs and the free exercise of his ftinctions? Nay, more, who are not ready at the bidding of Fashion to torture themselves, and submit, with all the endurance of a red Indian, to self-inflicted Kins and sufferings of so exquisite a ad that it would task the cruel ingenuity of the savage to surpass? The body is bent here, stretched there; the head is oppressed with great weights; the waist is constricted by ever tightening bands, until the ribs crack and give wav, the internal organs are forced from their natural places and hindered in their functions, and the life-blood is stopped in its course; the limbs are manacled, and the feet, forced into small and unyielding boots, and thus squeezed into lifelessness, are set to totter under an overweighted body upon the impossible support or long and narrow heels. Fashion not only twists and shapes with her torturing processes the exterior form of the body, but interferes as rudely with its internal economy, and finds no less submissivenese on the part of her subjects. They are forced, in defiance of physiology, not only to clothe themselves, but to eat, drink and sleep in a manner contrary to the principles of their organization. Who is allowed to hesitate between « suit of fashion and one conformable to the weather ? Who would not rather face the terrors of disease than the horror of gentility at an unfashionable garment? Who dares to sit down to his dinner at the hour natural appetite seems to appoint, or eat in a way conformable to his pleasure and convenience? Most not everyone beware of putting his legs under the mahogany before Fashion, waiting until the day is over, has struck her late hour? Who, moreover, would have the audacity to interrupt any of the formalities with which she insists upon spreading and serving her table? Where is the man so bold as to ask twice for soup, or disturb in any other way the established solemnities of the four courses and a dessert? He had better, so he seems, at any rate, to think, suffer all the pangs of dyspepsia,

and take the certainties of a surfeit and the chances of an apoplexy. It might be suppoeMl that the sacredness with which we, in common with Englishmen, are said to regard our houses, would save them from intrusion. Wefcall them at times our castles, and we are food of quoting what either Burke or Pitt said about the inviolability of their thresholds? but, notwithstanding. Fashion walks in, without even a “by your leave," and exercises her usual impudence of sway. The proprietor is quite a secondary personage, and even before his proprietorship may have said to begun, Fashion has had her effective say. She chooses the site and makes the plan for the structure. When built, she selects the furniture and appropriates ths apartments, taking care always to keep the best for her fine company, and leaving the proprietor aud his family to shift how they may. If Fashion were at all a judicious guide in these matters to which she puts her busy finger, L might not be so bad to have to submit to her direction; but, unfortunately, her ways are ways of perverseness. As, when she dresses the body, she tortures it into unnatural forms and deranges its functions, so, in constructing houses and providing them with furniture and company, with a disregard of all fitness, she perverts the purposes of human habitation and society. Of course little regard is had by her to the means and happiness of her subjects, and. with reckless expenditure and social dissipation, she not seldom leaves them bankrupt and miserable. In education, especially of the female sex, fashion arrogates to herself the authority of a supreme guide, and no one seems to question it. The accomplishments, as they are called, whica are so laboriously -acquired and expensively paid for, what have they to commend them to parents or their daughters beyond being passports to the recognition of fashion? Who pretqpds that they are of the least value as a means or end of mental and moral development ? Fashion has not yet ventured, it is presumed, to dictate to us the religion we are to believe in. She, however, often takes the liberty of pointing out the conventicle of her elect that her followers are to join, and choosing the exorbitant pulpit orator they must pay for, if not listen to. When they are sick, fashion sends her greedy physician to their bedsides; and with the constancy she possesses, if she may want every other virtue, she not only sticks to her friends, to their cost, during their whole life, but follows them to their burial with a splendid show of sorrow, at the charge of their estates, and throws into their graves armfuls of rare flowers and costly wreaths, at the expense of their mourners.— Harper't Bazar.

A Dinner-Party Offense.

At a moderate-sized dinner-party, offense is usually given in the following manner: Usually it is wished that each man should converse as much as possible, and do his best to make himself agreeable; but should a lion have been invited, the talkers are expected to convert themselves into listeners for the occasion. Wo to them if their blabberings, usually so welcome, should have the effect of smothering the wise utterances of the great man! Lions have a tendency to become taciturn unless they can monopolize thp conversation. At London dinnerparties, where so many new faces are constantly met with, it is very possible to be ignorant of the presence of a lion, since the exterior of these animals is frequently commonplace in the extreme. But should the unhappy diner-out, having discovered on»such an occasion that his rapid flow of small talk was extremely unwelcome, proceed, the next night, at another party, where no celebrity is present to behave as he ought to have done the evening before, he will find to his cost that he has just jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire, and a bad mark will be set against his name at both houses. Still, on the whole, perhaps at most London dinner parties, the curt saying of St. Francis de Sales proves true, that “there is nothing so like a wise man as a fool who holds his tongue;” especially, let us add, if he tastes of every dish and drinks of eveiy wine.— Home Journal.

Robbing the Soil.

Few farmers consider that each crop that is grown and removed from the soil has taken away so much strength and virtue from it; that in the stalk and kernel is found the concentrated richness that was in the ground until transformed by the mysterious ways of Nature in its transformation. Nature asks no aid from the husbandman, neither will it quietly brook being plundered, but, instead, following each demand made upon it in a way of a crop, it is found reduced and worn, and will not again attain to its former merit until there is restored to it equally and in proportion what has been taken from it. Rotation in crops is demonstrated as being not only best, but demanded; the continual growing and gathering from the same field a harvest of the same or kindred product will in due time deprive the soil m the field of the ability to produce that especial article, as it has taken from the soil all that is necessary for the successful production of that crop, and either fertilizers must be supplied, or the field will become wholly worthless, save for some other and entirely different kind of product. When crops fail *of themselves, the failure, as a rule, can be traced to the neglect of men, and not the defect of Nature, or mistake of the Creator. The soil is provided in a general state of richness; if continual demands are made upon it to produce, and no return offered in way of remedies for its degenerating tendency, the outcome will be a thin crop from an exhausted soil. The principal products of the farm are of that class that are employed in feeding the great family of consumers, and consequently it is removed in bulk from the soil, and but a minimum portion of it remains to enrich the ground for another season; the stalks and straws are lost to it, and another robbery committed. Taking from the soil these vital principles and making no return from them is reducing each year the value of the farm per acre in dollars and cents. This heed not be, as the product from the soil taken and transferred intoother conditions, such as composite and manure, if returned to the fields, will restore to the soil its strength, and keep it ever in condition to respond to the demands made by succeeding crops.— Factory and Farm —A man in Cheyenne, a few aays ago, went into a store to buy a barrel of apples. He bit into an apple, concluded to take a barrel of twenty-ounce pippins, went away, and, after being absent an hour or ao, came back and asked to see the apple he had bitten into. On being asked why he wanted that particular one, he said that he had lost his false teeth somewhere, and he rather thought he had left them stick ing in that apple. His surmise turned out to be true. - : i _

Religious Reading. "COMB UNTO MB." Comb unto Me. ye heavy laden. And I will rive yoa reel; Come unto Me, ve perivhlng. Recline upon My breast; Come unto Me, ye tempted. I'll shield yon with my arm. I'll lead you all tne thorny way, And keep yon case from harm. Come unto Me. ye hungry. Who linger bv the way. My fields are wide. I've bread to spare, Come, take it while ye may. Come unto Me, ye ihirety. Who tread the desert sands. Why perish yet I've cool, deep wells All through My fertile lands. Como unto Me, ye mourners sad. And lay yonr burden down; I'll help you bear the heavy cross, And give yon a golden crown. Come unto Me, ye suffering, Yonr wounded hearts I'll heal; Witli tender care I’ll watch you through— For sufferers 1 feel. Come unto Me, ve wayward ones In flowery paths of sin; Forsake the ways ye love “O well, For danger lurks therein; Your lives were Mine, ye held them baca, But your sins I will forgive If you'll bring to Me the remnant left— Come unto Me and live. Come, every Nation, kindred, tongue— Come Gentile, and come Jew— There’s room in Heaven for every one, For I have died for you; I hnng upon the cruel cross My Father's hand to stay; I saw you ruined, lost, undone— There was no other way. Y’our souls are Mine, T purchased them In agony and blood; I’ll wash them white as driven snow In Jordan's cleansing flood. Come unto Me —why will ye die! Yonr sins I will forgive; I’ll fold yon to my wounded breast— Come unto Me, and live. -Mrs. Nellie fisher. in N. Y. Weekly.

Sunday-School Lessons. FIRST QUARTER, 1877. Mar. 4-The Story of Naboth....l Kings 21: 4-14 Mar. 11—Elijah Translated . ...2 Kings 2:1-12 Mar. 18-The Spirit of Elijah.... 2 Kings 2:13-25 Mar. 25—Review, or lesson selected bv the school.

The Dead Church in Chasetown.

The interior of the church was almost as dreary and forlorn as its exterior. The two rows of low-backed, comfortless pews, with an uncarpeted aisle separating them, looked forbidding and homely. The gallery opposite the pulpit was decorated with wooden ornaments in very bad repair, and the moon-faced clock had a broken long pointer and a crooked short one. A red curtain drawn over a brass wire, just above the galiery-rail, revealed a small melodeon, weighted down with half-worn singing-books. The little square of carpet in front of the pulpit was glaring in color, and offended the minister’s sensitive eyes. But he caied little for the appearance of the church. He turned anxiously to the congregation, and glanced over the men and women who sat awaiting his remarks. They did not even seem inclined to look at him now, although he saw many faces whose owners had stared at him curiously enough at the depot. The church windows were open, and a delicious breeze, laden with the perfume of lilacs in neighboring gardens, of the apple-blossoms on the adjacent hills, rustled gently the leaves of the hymnbook which the minister was opening. Mr. Ardent longed to spring to his feet, and to address the congregation with burning words which should infuse life into their fainting souls. For he well knew that their souls were faint. A kind of spiritual paralysis had, two or three years previous to his arrival, fallen upon both the Congregational and Baptist Churches in Chasetown, and thus far all efforts to heal it had been vain. . Gradually the attendance fell away, and by and by it became difficult to secure preaching in either church. The Congregational minister, who had for twenty years contented himself with a meager salary and small approval, had a call elsewhere, and. despairing of Chasetown, accepted it. The church thenceforth became dependent on “ trial preachers.” The Baptist brethren were reduced to the same precarious method of obtaining spiritual sustenance, and Redman, the rich manufacturer and prominent worker in their denomination, had thought to do them great good by sending Mr. , Argent among them. The young clergyman’s fame had preceded him, and dozens of the Congregationalists had thought it worth their while, on the occasion of his first appearance, to visit the Baptist Church. They secretly longed for that spiritual awakening the hope of which had almost vanished from their breasts. Would it come from him ? The little church was hot filled. There were great ugly gaps in the very middle of the congregation. Here and there half a dozen bright, handsome girls occupied a pew together, and, conscious of the contrast of their beauty with the hard features and angular outlines of the farmers’ wives and the farmers scattered about them, they looked coquettishly at the new minister, as if surprised that he did not notice it. As for the farming folk, they appeared gloomy and unsympathetic; the husbafids sat apart from their wives; each person seemed to shrink into his or her corner, as if some wrath to come was concealed in the gathering twilight. A few elderly, red-faccd, squarejawed men looked critically at the minister, as if wondering why he were so presumptuous as to delay his beginning. When Mr. Argent arose, he felt as if he had the whole congregation upon his back, and it was crushing him. But' this was only for a moment. He prayed; and his prayer found an echo in many a heart. The old cracked bell in the belfry had ceased ringing but a minute or two before he began, and his voice, coming after the metallic dissonance, was like sweetest music. His prayer was short; a rustle swept over the congregation. Its members had expected a longer supplication. .They began to fear that they were to be called upon to aid in the work. Each man eyed his neighbor suspiciously. Mr. Argent gave out a hymn, which was sung by the young girls and the “choir,” whose singers arrived late and bustled into the front seats with considerable ostentation. The new minister saw that there were two beautiful faces among those of the singers who aided the choir most skillfully. One was that of a woman of twenty-four or twenty-five, a delicate, pain-laden, even wrinkled face, with pleading, protesting eyes, timid lips and a broad, high forehead; the other, that of a girl, thin, sensitive, passionate, the lovely oval face framed in folds of chestnut hair; a face capable of almost infinite variety of expression. After the hymn, Mr. Argent announced that there would be preaching in that church, morning and afternoon on the morrow, and Sabbathschool concert in the evening, after which he read a chapter from the Gospel of St. John. He then laid aside the great Bible, and stepping down from a low platform began to sing a simple melody with which he had been wont to awaken religious fervor in rude back-woods communities in

the far West. The melody was inspiring; the words appealed; the singer was natural, graceful, eilectivc 11 was a. ann<r to move hearts, to awaken souls. But it seemed to have little or no effect on the congregation. When the song died away, Mr. Argent fancied that he heard sounds as of sobbing here and there in the church, but the mass of his auditors looked straight into space before them, almost as if they were determined to ignore him and his song. Mr. Argent resumed his seat, saying: “ Will some brother lead us in prayer?” There was no answer. The twilight had deepened into dark now; the breeze was cooler; night had come. Mr- Argent waited in vain. It was evident that there would be no response. His heart overflowed with pity and sorrow for these cold and unlovely souls that could not even warm themselves with his enthusiasm. He addressed them freely, with burning and eloquent words he urged them to return to the higher life from which they had departed, and to consecrate themselves anew. Still no answer. Both men and women listened uneasily. Some were willing to respond, but they desired a “more convenient season.” “Mercy sakes! he flustered everybody e’en almost to death,” Aunt Nancy Brown said, afterward, relating the history of the meeting to a congenial gossip, over a smoking cup of tea. “Will no one lead in prayer ? Is there no one who will come with me toChrisfs altar?” said Mr. Argent, once more, this time very gently. He bowed his face; hid it in his hands and waited. The silence in the little church was painful. Uncle Bratus, who sat near the door, shuffled his boots in the hope of relieving tlie horrible spell which seemed to have fallen upon all. But there was no hope. 'All were mute. Mr. Argent arose. “Brethren and sistens,” he said, laying his hands upon the Bible, slowly placing it in position, and placing the hymn-book upon it, “ there will be no further services here this evening. Brethren and sisters, there is no Christ here!”— From a Story by Edward King, in Boston Journal.

Who Pays Messrs. Moody and Sankey?

Mr. Moody and Mr. Sankey have generous friends in Chicago wno thoroughly believe in their work, and, being men of means and influence, pay their necessary expenses. These Chicagoans sent the evangelists to England and Scotland and paid their expenses there, and have con tinued to do so since. Their expenses are not as large as would be supposed, owing to the liberality of friends in the various cities visited. In this city, for instance, Mr. Henry F. Durant, a converted lawyer, of ample means, residing at the Highlands, invited Mr. Moody and family to take up their abode at his house during their stay here. The invitation was thankfully accepted, and thus Mr. Moody is provided'for so far as his temporal wants are concerned. The proprietors of the Hotel Brunswick in a like manner invited Mr. Sankey and his family to reside at that spacious and elegant hotel, free of charge, during their stay in Boston. Thus is Mr. Sankey provided for, and thousands of people are ready to accommodate either one of the evangelists with their families if need should arise therefor, and would consider a great privilege so to do. Excepting the Chicago friends, these men have no source of revenue, and it is stated repeatedly that they refuse gifts of money from any and all sources'. The question of finance, so far as Mr. Moody and Mr. Sankey were concerned, never came before the committee in any form, it being understood that the workers came without price. In regard to the Tabernacle expenses, these figures are given: Cost of the Tabernacle, $50,000; running expenses for four months, $25,000 —making the total amount of money expended, $75,000. To pay this sum, it is estimated that from all sources, including the “ free-will offering,” there have been received $35,000, thus leaving a deficit of $40,000. — Boston Globe.

The Amusements of the Rich.

The folio wing is from an article by Dr. Holland, in Scribner for March: True amusement is of two kinds, viz., active and passive. The active and weary man and woman—those who exhaust every day their vital energies in work —take naturally to passive amusement. A lady of our acquaintance, engaged daily in severe intellectual tasks, says that nothing rests her like seeing other people work. For this she goes to the theater, and the play upon her emotions there rests, and recreates her. Indeed, it is the emotional side of the nature, and not the active, which furnishes play to those who are weary with the use of their faculties. This fact covers the secret of the popular success of what is called emotional preaching. People who have been engaged all the week in exhausting labor of any kind do not take kindly to a high intellectual feast on Sunday. They want to be moved and played upon. This rests and interests them, while the profound discussion of great problems in life and religion wearies and bores them. They are not up to it. are weary and jaded in that part of their nature which such a discussion engages. The emotions which have been blunted and suppressed by their pursuits are hungry. Bo every form of amusement that truly meets their wants must be emotive, ana must leave them free to rest in those faculties which are weary. On the other hand, the young, who are brimming with animal life, and who fail to exhaust it in study, call for active amusements, and they must have them. And here the parent is in danger of making a great mistake- Unless a boy is a milk-sop, he must do something or die. If he cannot do something in his home, or in the homes of his companions, he will do something elsewhere. It is only within a few years that parents have begun to be sensible upon this matter. The billiard-table, which a few yearn ago was Only associated with dissipation, now has an honored place and the largest room in every rich man’s house. The card-table, that once was a synonym of wickedness, is a part of the rich mans furniture, which his children may use at will, in the pursuit of a harmless game. A good many manufactured sins have been dethroned from their fictitious life and eminence, and put to beneficent family service on behalf of the young. Athletic sports, such as skating, boating, shooting, ball-playing, runnihg and leaping, have sprung into great prominence within the past few years—amusements of just the character for working off the excessive vitality of young men, and developing their physical power. This is all well—a reform in the right direction. Much of this is done before the public eye, and in the presence of young women, which helps to restrain all tendencies to excesses ana dissipation. The activities of young women take another direction, and nothing seems to us

more hopeful than the pursuits in which they engage. The rich young woman in •uiu. club, the drawing class, and kindred associations, employ her spare tunepandi now there Is hardly A more busy''person"' living than the rich young woman who Ik. through w.th her boarding-school. ’The poor, who suppose that the rich young woman leads an idle life, are very much? mistaken. The habits of voluntary industry now adopted and practiced by the young women of Atnenca, in good circumstances, are moat gratefully surprising. One of them who is not. so busy'' during the winter that she really needs a , recuperating suffimer, is an exception. Our old ideas of the lazy, fashionable gid i must be set aside. They are all at work at something It may not bring them money, bi&JJlmngs to them—the content that comes of an earnest and fruitful pursuit. It may take* the form tof amusement, tai trit r«wdte in aT adult in this matter of amusement, much is done for thMWill help to givp us a generation of older pen and women, who Wilt hot be content witli* the poor business of killing time. For it \ must be remembered thst while the young' ; women “ assist’?. dt the athletic games i<3'; the young wen,ths young men *rq India: t pensable to the rntellectUal associations M ‘ the young women.-*-They meet'together, and stimulate «bd lelp duttoofber it does not seem possible , rthat either party should eVer'subside ih'M'those thfieikWrs , ‘ who haunt the w, a* fistia thfongted aSfleiUBW .... .

The Old Bachelor’s Latter Days.

Let us glance at the latter scenba. Eyen he has his day. When people fiM"fflSt be will not marrjfc Mtl.tfiajbq.ip on in years, they gradually “ di;op him?', He ceases to be asked to’ parties, ana haughty beauties, turn; up their he supplicates for their favorJle may: not lose caste at the same ume mat the 1 bloom of yquth ih robbed .fwMUh Iflit drop away.» He sees younger rritab i*p|n Ift?' him, snap, ona.by onetyand indue form 4to take their jNqt; bqtagjpengaged igj any work of usefulness, he has to fly to his club foreompankwshjpi'MaA hsufibs no difficulty in discovering that t&e “ friends” whdm he tnsfkeS ttierfe flo fiiv care a straw about him. People he is, in some respects, a social failure, and they feel, further, thatlt is 'hie' OWn fault. They laugh at him, ’bppause has ifc, vain and selfish, and continues to hanker after admiration; they hold' ’hisTittle J fo?- i bles up to ridicule ; they hiip when >it suits them, and forsake trim wired it sdits them. Perhaps there is bo Aman 1 - mdret nopelessly alone in top wncldtlwi ( tbp gft}- , lant bachelor who has outlived the pleasures of, youth and turned fiftyr—fZonw Journal’. ■ , . ; ; | -hI, II. ■ hlllloq £ ulrt-ja —A good name and good; credit ter in a financial point of view, frequent-’ ly, than a large capital.;: And thisds within the reach of the poorest man^., k|t New York City biriptoys 8,708 officials, who draw annually, $1Q,3q5,4fi6 from the Treasiify. ..1 AVA LA ■ ? t ♦‘4 I»• if Si

Breathing Miasma Without Injury

There ft no exaggeration in the sfaiemdn that thousands of persons residing fromqne year’s end to another in fever ana ague regions on this Continent and elsewhgra» breathe air more or less impregnated with miasma, without incurring the disease, simply and only because they are in the habit. of using Hostetter’s Stomach Bitters as a preventive. It has frequently .happened, and the fact has been amply attested nV the parties themselves; that persons' surrounded on all sides, by neighbors suffering the tortures of this shivering and burning jffagne,' have enjoyed absolute immunity; frow.lt, thanks to the protection afforded by the Bitters. Nor is that standard abti-tebriU Cardial less efficacious in remedying than in. preventing chills and fever, bilious rettiiv tents, and disorders of a kindrqd type. Taken between the paroxysms, it itoee<nly : mitigates the Jr violenoe,end eventually pre-, vents their recurrence. These facts, convincingly estahlißhed;by/ev|detW> appeal.Wkh peculiar force to travelers and sojourners in malarious districts. ’ ">r.r •_! • mJri

Prof. Tyndall’s Warning.

In concluding an addrdss to the students; of University College (London), Prot Tyndall,who is unquestionably one indefatigable brain-workers of oujr century, said: “Take care of your Tie Al th. Imagine Hercules as oarsmaq |0 «, rojtou h«M»tp >hat 7 can he do there but by the very force of his stroke expedite the rum of his craft; < Takq> care of the timbers of your boat.’’ The, distinguished -Scientist’s 1 advice ''ft' equally” valuable to all toorfcrs. We, are apt. to devote all our energies to wielding the‘oars; our strokes fall firm and fast, but tow of pis examine or even think of the condition of our boats until the broken or.rotted timbers suddenly give way, and we find ourselves the victims of a calamity which edii d'flatus' haps even a careless izing influences, ends in the complete Wreck of the life-boat. ) dfteqeei #nlcb hd/an with, a slight headache or an undue exposure to cold terminates'tn death,' unless give no indication of ths strepgto<44Mi*w coming foe, and the victiin trusts that his old ally, Nature, will exterminate voder. But Disease is an old General, and accomplishes his most important movements in the night-time, and some bright morning finds him in possession of orfd'of the strongest fortifleationgL sndr witoP MtfeW once gained a stronghold In the system,Nature ignominiously turn* tndtor and isd* cre'.ly delivers up the whole physical armory to the invader. -Like the wflfTolttielkn. Nv tore is always on the strongest-side. and-toe only way to insure he? support’ nr tb 1 keep —weUcnartftdh Ddnotlstthe farfaidartiid arterial highways, for he will, steal of destroy your richest merphdmliso MM S&3&& was His Pleasant Purgative Feiiste anceageciaikf effective in defending the stomach and liver. His Golden Medical IMSdovety the blood and arresting coughs and colds. If you wish tubecome' SffiTßarW?th^tFi < in time of peace, you can flnd.no better man* saif• smwsw receiptof tlAd. It contains exet ntoehuiri dred pages, illustrated by two hundred and, eighty-two engravings and colored plates, and riegantiy bound to alote "idfgilt; , Lakb 4nd PAijrrtJL Ba can, and Wtokpaas across the Kidneys, are relieved by Collins’ Voltaic Plastxbs, which nreworth a tegiment of doctors and acre* of plants and herbs in the treatment of Wch ’Mto. "All druggists have them at 35 ooata. --h;.