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A SONG FOR WOMEN. Within a dreary, narrow room, That looks out upon a noisome street, Half fainting with the stifling heat, A starving girl works out her doom. Yet not the les^ iu God's sweet air The little birds .dng free of care, And hawthorns blossom everywhere. Swift oeaseless toll scarce wlnneth bread; From early dawn till twilight falls, Shut In by four dull, ugly walls, The hours crawl round with murderous tread. And all the while, in some still place, Where Intertwining boughs embrace, The blackbirds build, time flies apace. With envv of the folk who die Who may at last tbelr leisure take, Whose longed-for sleep none roughly wake. Tired hands the restless needle ply, But far and wide In meadows green The golden buttercups are seen, And reddening sorrel nods between. Too pure and proud to soil her soul Or stoop to basely gotten gain, By days of changeless want and pain The seamstress earns a prisoner’s dole, While in the peaceful fields the sheep Fee a quiet, and through heaven’s blue deep The silent cloud-wings stainless sweep. And if she be alive or dead That weary woman scarcely knows, But back and forth her needle goes In tune with throbbing heart and head. Lo, where the leaning alders part, White-bosomed swallows, blithe ofheart, Above still waters skim and dart. O God in Heaven! shall I, who share That dying woman’s womanhood, Taste all the summer’s bounteous good Unburdened by her weight of care? The whitened moon-daisies star the grass, The lengthening shaodws o’er them pass, The meadow pool Is smooth as glass. A Leaf Out of Milady’s Life. In an exquisitely appointed dress ing room standing before her cheval glass is a lady, viewing with careless glance the perfect image the mirror with truthful painting sends back, as the maid b^nt on one knee fastens a spray of flowers more securely on the sweep of her mistress’s train. “Well, Jeanette,” Milady says in her soft voice. “Shall I do?” The very air of the room seems to eoho back the words in sheer mockery. “Shall she do ?” Let us look into the mirror and answer it for ourselves. She is tall and slender, every curve— for there are no angles —showing a neat beauty in the lithe svelt figure, •v^her shoulders smooth as polished marble rise in their soft fairness from the lightly fitting purple dress from which they are separated by folds of rich old lace whose yellowness makes Madame seem almost fair. Tumbling over her neck is a mass of wavy, curl ing, dusky hair, that is only kept in place by a few pearls, which are in deed the only ornaments she wears. Her eyes are oblong, liquid and dreamy. Eyes that you find in a seraglio but rarely elsewhere. The tiny shell-like ears, the delicately chiseled nostrils, the lovely mouth that seems made only to be kissed, might all belong to a Hebe, nay even to a Venus, but none of them con tained character; to find that you must lo^ at the broad, low forehead, with its straight pencilled brows, the rather too heavy lower jaw and chin, at the constant nervous action of the small, well-shaped hands that betrays her before she speaks. There lay the signs telling too well their story, and to a close observer showing Madame’s traits as if they were writ ten before, them and I fear if they were they would have found more imper fections there than in the picture like face. “Ah! Madame, you are perfect,” the maid cries. Milady smiles, a slow languid smile that lights up the vel vety depths of her eyes before it ►jhes her lips, as turning she sinks \o a low fanteuil before the fire. “My.letters, Jeanette, and then tell the musicians to play the waltz from “Faust” as the opening danoe.” The maid obeys and then silently leaves the room. “To-night he will return to me, he will forgive all, I know, and the strains of the first waltz I ever danced with him shall speak to him before he even sees me.” The smile has not left \ heMlps and a happy contented look is on her face as she carelessly opens her letters and as carelessly reads and oasts aside until one coroneted and with a faint perfume still lingering about it meets her hand. i! from Lina,” she says pieas king the seal she reads the es: dy Lina Chesterton To the Countess of Aryleton. old Loys, have such lots to tell you. I am engaged, nay, more,before you get this I shall be married ; now don’t scold because I really could not tell you be ne, as it has tjnly been settled a fe w days, and Loys how shall I own it— but I am so awfully in love with him, I never thought I could like any one as much—oh ! if you could only see him, he is so tall and haudsome ; and what a great silly you will think me if I rattle on in this style. Howevtr, even at the risk of those eyes of yours fighting up with scorn at my rhapso dies—you who have a heart as cold to men as the snow on Mt. Blanc—I must go on for I want you to know him as I do, dear. Long ago, Loys, he loved some one else, he told me all about it, so frankly, the other day, loved her as perhaps he may never love me, with all the strength of his soul. Sbe must have been so handsome; in your style ; only more* beautiful, if possible, but after winning his love it seems Marco— he gave her that title as he did not care to tell me her real name—although she may have cared for him, her affec tion was not strong enough for her to overcome her fault of coquettry. This habit or trait—for honestly I dare say shemeautno harm—caused frequent quarrels between, them and in her wilfulness she would not listen to her lover’s pleading. At last a very wealthy nobleman came upon the scene. The said gentleman was ex cessively exclusive, and in fact a my- sogenist. Learning this, Marco set herself to work to subjugate his heart, nothing would please her vanity but that he must lay the offering of his love at her feel. Guy forbade her to speak to hiua and finally, finding re monstrances or threats powerless, told her to choose between them. The lady in her haughtiness would not answer him, and hot with anger and jealousy he left London. Before quitting the city he wrote telling Marco all he was suffering and saying that if she would write to him within a week to come back he would come, but, if he did not, hear he would conclude that ner love had not been as great as his. She never wrote. Guy came to Venice, we met, my dear, it was the old story of time and opportunity, not very c imphmentary to me perhaps, but eminently satisfactory. I am so happy that I fairly tremble’ for fear my chat- teaux will prove en Espagne and crumble to ruins before my eyes- This morning something odd occurred. We were out on the porch when the Eng lish mail airr/ed. There was nothing for me, but one for Guy ; as he took it I saw a look creep into his eyes I had never seen there before, as a dull red mounted his forehead. Quicker than I can tell you the envelope was torn off, and with eager glance he removed the contents, as he read the color faded from his face until he was ashen. The note only contained a few lines, but Gay read them over and over again until they must have burned them selves into his brain never to be erased, then the paper dropped from his nerve- lei s grasp and without a word he left me. Was it dishonorable? I can’t help it then ; I lifted that note and read every word. It said : “My own darling Garth, forgive my past pride and waywardness in this acknowledge ment of my love for you. Ah, I hun ger so to see you again ; forgive me, Garth, and come to me.” That was all, no signature, but I knew it was from Marco. Do you know, Loys, if I did not know that you two were strangers I would have said that the queer de cided writing was in your hand. Pshaw! I must stop now for my fiance, Guy Garth, Lord Maylere, is calling me. Good-bye old girl.” • Lina. The letter fluttered from the hand of the Countess to the floor, the lovely mobile face is drawn and white, it seems as though she were suffering pain so intense as to render her power less of motion. In the drawing room beneath, the sound of the waltz from Faust is heard, the seductively sweet strains rising with even cadence, breaking the frightful stillness of the room. Milady draws a long, deep breath as shudderingly she lifts her hands to her bosom and draws from behind its screens of lace where it has lain upon her breast, a diamond locket. As she catches the scintallating sparkle of the gems she siuileB a slow, bitter smile, after a momentary hesita tion she touches a spring and the case flies open, disclosing a man’s face. With a passionate gesture she lifts it to her lips as though the painted ivory could feel and respond to the caress. “And I have lost you,” she moans a world of agony in her voice. “Lost you, and for what ?” Again the music rises to her ear with louder sound. Milady starts to her feet. “My God,” she cries, “will that dance never cease. Oh, Garth, Garth!” she falls to the floor; a dark red stream wells up to her lips and creeps on to the carpet, staining it with her life’s blood. It is thus her servants find her,* her dead, cold hand grasping the por trait of the only man she e ver loved, while the ever sweet music of the waltz from Faust sti’l lingers on the air. Sanitary. Abraham A Santa Clara. The popular actress of the Stadt Theatre at Leipzig, Marie Knauff, publishes in a German contemporary some interesting recollect.ons of two eminent poets and critics, the late Franz von Dingelstedt and Dr. Carl Gutzkow. Dingelstedt was manager of the Weimar Theatre when she made her appearance on that famous stage. Her friend Dr. Gutzkow, gave her a much needed-lecture on the faulty pronunciation of many actresses and advised her to spend some time in an exercise, which seemed to her at first to be childish, but the value of which she afterward discovered —the proper utterance of the vowels. He advised her, with a view to obtain finish and completeness in the utterance of A, t devote half an hour every day to the declamation of the name of the re nowned Humorous preacher, “Abra ham a Santa Clara.” She was told to declaim this series of eight connect ed A’s in a full tone and a half tone, alternately. She was lodging in the “Erbprinz” Hotel. The first day on which she began her curious exercise, she had uttered “Abraham a Santa Clara” about fifty times when she was startled by a loud knocking at her door. The Kellner appeared, and told her that her neighbor in the next room had been greatly alarmed. He was a sober commercial traveller, and had rushed down into the dining-room, where the guests were seated at dinner, inform ing them that the young actress had gone stark mad, and was calling out Abraham! Abraham!” Dingelstedt was not present at dinner; but early the next day he called upon her that all the guests in the “Erbprinz” were iu great anxiety about her, and he wanted to know what moved her to spend her time “in these eccentric Biblical studies?” She gave him an account of Dr. Gutzkow’s advice. The manager observed that the practice was go&d on the whole, but that it had a certain danger about it. The piece in which she was to appear was “Ka- bale and Liebe,” and if she was not very watchful over herself, she would be surprised when upon the stage with calling out “Abraham ! ” instead of “Ferdinand! ” Notes and Queries. • Stipulation. Canon Farrar (Language and Lan guages, p. 204) observes: “How often do people when they ‘make a stipula tion’ recall the fact that th9 origin of the expression is a custom, dead for centuries, of giving a straw [stipula] in sign of a completed bargain?” In the manor of Winterirgham, North Lincolnshire, this custom, far from being dead, obtains at the present time. A straw is always inserted “ac cording to the cusMrn of the manor,” in the top of every surrender (a paper document) >f copyhold lands there; and the absence of this straw would render the whole transaction null and void. A copy of the first edition of Mon taigne’s Essays (two volumes, 1580) recently came into the hands of M. Emile Lalanne, a learned gentleman of Bordeaux, who has found in It large number of MS. notes identical with the corrections carried in out the second edition (1582). From an ex amination of the hand-writing, and from other significant circumstances, it would appear almost certain that these are the actual alterations made for the press by Montaigne himself, who was at the time Mayor of Bor deaux. M. Lalanne has generously offered to present the book to the pub lic library of that town. Five thousand Babylonian tablets (many of them in an excellent state of preservation), discovered by Mr Rassam in the mounds of Abu-Habba are on their way to the British Muse um. Abu-Habba, is the site of Sip para, the Sepharvaim of the Old Tes tament. It is uot impossible that this find represents the library of Sargon I., whose date is commonly given as 2,000 b. e. Ckoup.—There are an innumerable number of receipts floating around the papers, and as some of them may be useful we make it a point to publish the best of them. The following is an other remedy for the croup. It is said that croup can be curtd in one minute. The remedy is simply alum. Take a knife or graier, and shave or grate off in small particles about a teaspoonful of alum; mix it with about twice its quantity of sugar, and administer as quickly as possinle. Fresh Air as Good Exercise.— The want of sedentary men is air rather than exercise. The evil is not done to the constitution by sitting so much as by sitting in stuffy rooms. An hour a day in a garden would benefit them as much as - would a se vere country walk. An hour passed in strolling in the air, for mental fa tigue, is better than an hour’s strong exerel se; while an hour of close mental application in a stuffy, over-heated room, perhaps full of the fumes of gas, will “take it out of you” more than a whole day of the same strenuous work in a room with open windows, or with free ventilation, or so large that the air is not perceptibly affected by those who breathe it. Hot Mil,k as a Restorative — Milk thafiis heated to much above 100 degrees Fahrenheit loses for the time a degtee of its sweetness and its den sity ; but no one fatigued by over-ex ertion of body and mind, who has ever experienced the reviving influ ence of a tumbler of this beverage, beaten as hot as it can be sipped, will willingly forego a resort to it because of its having been rendered somewhat less acceptable to the palate. The promptness with which its cordial in fluence is felt is indeed surprising. Some portions of it seem digested and appropriated almost immediately, and many who fancy they need alcholic stimulants when exhausted by labor of brain or body will find this simple draught an equivalent that shall be abundantly satisfying and more en during in its effects. A Few Sanitary Errors.—To labor whep you know you are not in a fit condition to do so. To think the more a person eats the healthier and stronger be will become. To go to bed at midnight and rise at daybreak, and imagine that every hour taken from sleep is an hour gained. To im agine that if a little work or exercise is good, violent or prolonged exercise is better. To conclude that the smallest room in the house is large enough to sleep in. To eat as if you on y had a minute to finish the meal in, or to eat without an appetite, or to continue al ter it has been satisfied^merely to sat isfy the taste. To believe that chil dren can do as much work as grown people, and that the more hours they study the more they learn. To imag ine that whatever remedy cau»es one to feel immediately better (asalcohohc stimulants) is good for the system, without regard to the ulterior effects To take off'proper clothing out of sea son, simply because you have necome heated. To sleep exposed to a direct draught iu any season. To eat a hearty supper at the expense of a whole night of disturbed sleep, and weary waking in the morning. increased by immigration and the natural increase of population, to the exteut of nearly two million more mouths to feed thau eighteen months ago. Turning now to Europe, it is tolerably certain that the grain crops of Great Britain and France will be below an average this year, and also that some of the other countries which have supplied Western Europe with at least a part of their imports of food will not be able to give them much cur ing the next twelve months. Australia, on account of the great drouth which has prevailed there, and Egypt, on ac count of the disorganization of indus try by the war, will not furnish their usual supplies. Food therefore is likely to continue comparatively high for the next year. The situation affects the labor market also. Men work that they may live and when food ad vances their wages must also or they starve. We may, if the situation ex pected is realized, prepare for an in crease in the agitation over wages, and strikes and lockouts will be common. The rulers of States and cities will have to be exceedingly circumspect to prevent trouble with the de nagogues who jump into every labor agitation. The Queen of Roumania’s “ Thoughts.” A registered ease passed through the Ne# York Post Office on Monday night from Philadelphia addressed to the Amsterdamohe Bank, Amsterdam Holland, on which were 142 90-oent Her slight form sways for an instant j and two 10-oent stamps, makin the to and fro and then with a dull thud 1 postage $128. The Food and Labor Market. A variety of circumstances seems to point to the conclusion that the next twelve months will be an era of com paratively high prices. Notwithstand ing that abundant crops of hay, oats, and wheat, and at least an average one of corn, are now assured, food is likely to continue as compared with the average of the past years. The partial failure of the wheat, corn and grass crops of last year, together with the severity of the preceding winter, so diminished the reserves and sources of supply of all human food in the form of breadstuff's and meats that it will take a good while to restore the stocks of these things to the level of eighteen months ago, even in this country, to say nothing about the ne cessities of Europe. The wheat from the new crop has been coming into the market now tor nearly a month and yet the the visible supply of wheat as shown by the stocks in store, at the twenty principal oities of the United States, has diminished each week, until on July 15th it was only 8,947,- 865 bushels against 10,665,446 on June 24th, and 14,823,392 on July 16th, 1831. Of oorn there was, on July 15'h, a total visible supply of only 6,000,134 bushels against 9,385,100 on June 17th, and 15,979,104 on July 16th, 1881, and of oats only 1,812 849 against 1,978,975 on July 17th. Tue demand for con sumption in this country has also been From selfishness men make severer laws for women than for themselves, without suspecting that by doing so they raise them above themselves. Forgiveness is almost indifference; while love lasts forgiveness is impos sible. Love is like a squirrel: at once enter prising and timid. The Bong of the nightingale and the howling of cats are two manners of expressing the same feeling ; but they are not mutually intelligible. There is but one happiness—duty. There is but one consolation—work. There is but one enjoyment—the beau tiful. Hope is a fatigue ending in a decep tion. Happiness is like an echo: it an swers to your call, but does not come. Is the calm you have gained a proof of acquired force or of growing weak ness? A great misfortune gives grandeur even to an insignificant being. Do not seel proud at having suppor ted your misfortune. How could you not have supported it? Suffering Is our most faithful friend ; it is always returning. Often it has changed its dress and even its face; but we can easily recognize it by its cordial and intimate embrace. Suffering is a heavy plough driven by an iron hand. The harder and more rebellious the soil the more it is turned, the richer and softer the deeper it is cut into. In youth grief is a tempest which makes you ill; in old age it is only a cold wind which adds a wrinkle to your face and one more white lock to the others. There are people who feed them selves with their grief until they get fat on it. In great suffering you shut yourself up like an oyster. To open your heart by force would be to kill \ ou. Melancholy, when it is not a physi cal languor, is a kind of convalescence during which one thinks one’s self much more ill than during the illness. Every one of our actions is rewarded or punished, only we do not admit it. An excellent housewife is always in a state of despair; one would often like the house lets perfectly kept and more peaceful. The kindness or youth is angelic; the kindness of old age is divine. There is no doubt that thinkers gov ern the world ; and it is quite as cer tain that the world governs poten tates. Patience is not passive ; on the con trary, it in active, it is concentrated strength. Foolishness places itself in the fore most rank to be observed ; intelligence stands in the hindmost to observe. Decline in Value. Land in corn-growing parts of Eng land is falling off in value. A small estate in one of the easturn counties, which four years ago was valued at $125,000, was put up at auction three weeks ago, and the highest prioe offered for it was $45,000. It comprises 490 acres, and was bought in by the Trustees. It is said that iu the same part of England muoh arable laud is running to waste for want of oapital to pay for labor which it requires. No farmiug except grazing and dairy farming is said now to pay for the outlays.* Often the virtue of a woman must be very great, since it has to^suffloe for two.