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tA?—igr — [For The Snuny South.] HASTEX-A SONG FOB THE YOUNG. BY KATE C. WAKEI.EE. Hasten! From its quiet moorings Speeds a noble bark to sea, Hiding on the foam-capped surges Like a sea-bird gallantly— Precious freighting iB its bearing: Human hearts, whose every beat, Quickened by the buoyant motion, Measure life-notes rare and sweet,— Childhood’s rippling, ringing laughter , Echoing like a silvery bell,— ■Woman's song and manhood s triumph Mingle with old ocean's swell. Hasten! Darkness wraps the death scene; Dense fog broods,—a sinking wreck; Shrieks that pierce the vault of heaven O’er the gurgling waters break; Loved ones clinging to each other,— Stout hearts cowering with fear,— Lips whose faith has never faltered, Tremulous with mute despair,— Blood-stain’d spars and cheeks whose coldness All life’s rounded beauty keep,— Gold and gems, with light unheeded, Strew the surface of the deep! Hasten! O’er that hidden grave-hold Speeds another shining keel— Every sinewy chord in motion, Straining every nerve of steel. Other heart-freight, buoyant, eager— All unmindful, as they go, Of the quiet dead who slumber On the coral reef below. Not for them is death or danger,— Smooth the sky and calm the deep,— Shining shore and welcome haven,— Onward joyously they sweep! Hasten! hasten! Life's strange watchword Chasing pleasure, gold or fame— In the rounds of joy or sorrow, Greeting us alike the same; Wrestling with nerve and muscle In the contest of the mind, We must outstrip every rival— Leave the wondering mass behind. Blood may track our flying footsteps— Death with corses bar our way— But we dare not faint or faltes, Lest another win the day. boss, or stand barefooted cn the snow and hold his horse. Whew ! I’m a poet and didn’t know it;" with which last perpetration of rhyme, he polled his old cap dow n over his face and trot ted down the street at a brisk rate. But he had proceeded but a short distance when, his foot “Yes, dear, that was quite right. I will tell A holy Sabbath was quietly sinking down into Let them cultivate their minds and encourage you to-morrow whether he can come.” i the hush of dreamy twilight. Soft shadows were conversation upon topics which require a search And then, while Paul dozed away, worn out flitting about a beautiful little suburban home for information; the young gentleman will very and chilled, Jennie’s thoughts went swiftly back ; nestled among blooming shrubbery and trellised soon follow the example. And above all, let to her happy betrothal three years ago, and to vines. In a room furnished with taste and ele- them despise the very least departure from true, the young lover who had been—nay, who was gance, Harry Hartley was seated by a hand- womanly dignity. Let them hold themselves slipping, he fell to his knees on the hard stone still—so dear/ Could it be that he had been : some cabinet, bending over a casket, rapt as was aloof from those known to belong to the genus nQ V£* m OTl f A ♦a Al. ft Av nil A /l ♦Iv Cl ^ ll A TX CAT* OT“ ll O il 1*0^ D V fX f DP ll IQ ftll FI T1 P. 11 T1 PHT1 QPlflllQ fTlflf * * iocf A TX X^ T». i 11 /.A V. a «• aa ma V, a a il. i . pavement “Are you hurt?” inquired a gentleman just then passing. “Not much,” answered Paul, but at the same time vainly struggling to rise. “Let me help you to your feet;” and stooping down, the stranger lilted him up, saying: “You should not be out so late on such a cold night as this;’’ then, as the rays from a street lamp shone upon the boy’s lace, the stranger gave a start of surprise and quickly asked: “What is your name, my little man?” Paul Hudson, with thanks for your kind- true to her after all, and that he never had re ceived those tender, pitiful letters ? It was past the midnight hour. The lire had burnt itself out; the room was cold and cheer less, for Paul was asleep: and Jennie sat alone, busy with her own thoughts, her half-glad emo tions, and woman’s pride—busy stitching away by the little deal-table, where shone with a sickly- light her one lamp, by which she sat night after night sewing, while the delicate fingers were pierced to the bone, and the sad, beautiful eyes ached and burned until the tears would come, dropping among the stitches,—for upon her ever devotee at his shrine, unconscious that “ last, and it will not be many x'ears before this other eyes rested upon the treasure before him, objectionable phase of social life will have disap- until a soft pair of hands was laid across his peared. face, and a sweet voice beside him said. 1 A secret, as I live!” Gently he unclasped the fingers, and drawing the blushing, radiant creature to his side, re plied: “It is a priceless treasure, Jennie, since it was instrumental in finding you, my dear, brate- hearted little wife. ” THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT. The Ladies of Washington City—Their Earn est and Successful Efforts. The fete given a few evenings since by Mrs. Bouligny and Mrs. Morrell, at Willard s Hall, for ness: and good-night, sir, for I’m late, and my work she in pnrt de pended for daily bread, the [For The Sunny South.] JENNIE’S _SACRIFICE. BY ANNIE CLEVELAND COCHBAN. It was a bitter December night. The dull-gray sky above, the snow-covered earth below, gave a dreary desolation to the scene, in spite of the gas-light that threw its illumination over the streets, the showy shop-windows, the gilded sa loons and confectionery and fruit stalls of the city. There were few abroad to-night for these attractions to tempt. The air pierced like icicles, the snow was deep, and business and revelry were alike suspended. Men hurried home to their warm firesides with their overcoats but toned to their throats, and the homeless xvere eagerly seeking some place of shelter from the bitter weather. One firm, however, continued Work in their warm, well-lighted counting-room,where agiow ing fire of anthracite diffused » pleasant heat sister Jennie’s waiting. “ Jennie !” exclaimed the man. “Is she well ?” “Yes,’’-said the boy, wondering. “Do you know my sister, sir?” “Of course I do. Paul, don’t you know me— don’t you know Harry Hartley? I am so glad to find you?” “Yes, sir. I know you now. Your beard made you look different. I hope you are well, Mr. Harry. But good-night, sir; it’s so very cold.” “Not so fast,” laughed Mr. Hartley, walking on by his side. “With your permission, I’ll go home with you, Paul.” The boy’s cheek reddened, and he stopped irresolute. “Excuse me, sir,” he said at length. “I’d rather you wouldn’t go until I spoke to Jennie about it. She sees no company at all.” “But she would see me—for the sake of old times; wouldn’t she, Paul?” “I’ll ask her,” said the boy with dignity,“and I’ll tell you to-morrow. ” “ To-morrow? Where shall I find you?” “At Ketchum & Dodge’s. I am employed there. Good-bye, sir.” “Proud, like his father before him,” solilo quized Harry Hartley, looking at the little re treating figure. “ Poor little frozen lad ! Who would have thought to see Marmaduke Hudson's child in that poverty-stricken garb! And my darling little Jennie—how she must have suf fered ! I can hardly keep from following Paul and going to her at once. But I had best wait till to-morrow, and then, if she still loves me, all will be well. She shall never feel the sting of poverty again. My sweet Jennie !” And his thoughts went back to the bright, ten der eyes and the sweet lips he had kissed with such reverent passion, when they parted, be trothed lovers, three years ago. The future lay bright before them then—both young and well born and equal in wealth and station. But just before it was time for Harry to return from Paris, where he had gone to complete his medi cal course, Mr. Hudson failed in business, through the perfidy of others, and at one stroke lost his home, his large fortune and his summer friends. Unable to remain among the scenes of his former prosperity, he removed to the city in the hope of finding employment that would support himself and his two beloved children. He struggled heroically for awhile, but care and disappointment and chill foreboding preyed upon his health, and he fell their victim, in miserable pittance of twenty-five cents a day- being all that was allowed by Ketchum & Dodge to Paul, the “office boy,” whose office, however, was not confined to their sanctum, but was “all over the city,” embracing various branches of duty. Jennie was suddenly startled by hearing low moans from her brother, and immediately going to his bed-side, she found him tossing restlessly about in a burning fever. In alarm she bent over him, asking what was the matter, but only incoherent replies fell upon her ears. Alone she sat by the poor sufferer, unmindful of the cold,.regardless of the dreary solitude, but pray ing for the morning to come that might bring some relief. Anxiously did she gaze out into the dark and bitter night for the first gleam of day to fall upon the snow-shrouded earth. At last the morning dawned. The sun shone brightly and roused the sleeping city to the din and bustle of life; but to the wretched waiting girl it brought no gladness, for the fever was unabated and Paul for the most part delirious— sometimes all eagerness to do the bidding of his employers; then, gently stroking the long golden hair that fell upon his breast as Jennie bent over him, he would call her his beautiful mermaid, and beg her to take him away to her cool sea home. “Oh! what shall I do?” cried the half-dis tracted girl. “O God, spare him—spare him, I pray, or let me, too, die, for he is my all; I have none other friend but him !” In despair she went for her next-door neigh bor, who soon came blustering in, declaring, in hurricane style, that the boy was “dang’rous;” expected he had “been wading in the snow bare-footed; had taken cold—pneumonia, doubt less—and oughter be blistered, have plenty of red pepper tea, and wrapped in blankets, to steam out the fever,” etc. From such treatment Jennie shrank aghast. “Then go for a doctor, and see how much he’ll mend the matter with his pills and pow ders—to say nothing of a bill as long as a poli tician’s promise ’fore election.” Ah ! how- quickly- this reminded the poor girl of her poverty, for not one cent remained in her purse, and only a small loaf of bread and short allowance of tea were left on their little shelf. She had taken no rest, no nourishment, during her long vigil. A gray pallor had crept over her face; but suddenly it brightened with a new “ ‘Honor to whom honor is due,’ and'render the benefit of the Washington National Monu- unto Ca sar the things that are Ciesars !’ ” cried ment, was a most gratifying success, and a good Paul, who had entered and stolen up behind beginning of woman’s work for this truly wor- them unobserved, and now standing by his sis- thy cause. The unfinished shaft should at this ter, looked down upon the silken wealth of hair, time invoke an earnest thought from the Ameri- around which clustered odorous but withered i can people. For twenty years no stone has been buds of orange and myrtle. added to the pile, and now that the Centennial “I have never told you, Jennie, that the day jubilee draws near, what shall be the reproach you sacrificed your hair, and while the French of the nation if active labor be not directed to- woman had gone to a window and was holding ward its completion ? The great attraction of the beautiful, shorn tresses aloft, proud as an the/We, under the auspices of the ladies, was the Indian brave over his scalp trophy, that I was exhibition of the celebrated painting, Corinne, passing! then in search of you. My eye was by Miss Gardner, of New Hampshire. This caught by that matchless hair, so like your xvell- rare work pf art arrived in this country only a remembered curls. From the jabbering little few weeks before, and brought with it the lau’da- chatter-box, I soon had a history of her ‘ rare | tion of eminent artists and distinguished people prize,’ and was convinced that from this dear abroad. At the Paris Salon it achieved a glori- head the treasure had been shorn. She pointed ous eclat; and in Brooklyn, also, with Bierstadt me out the direction you had gone, and a few as a pater-enthusiast—so proud was he of the tal- moments after I found you.” ent of his fair countrywoman—it won new lau- “Ah! but, Harry, brother mine, how would rels. Hoxv appropriate that at the national cap- you have known that Jennie xvas here to find, if ital the first viexv afforded of thispurelv classical you had not found me first, just as I had come j and beautiful subject should be in connection to anchor on my knees upon a hard rock? So with a patriotic purpose—that genius and grati- give me the credit, if yon please!” and kissing tude should go hand in hand to bless the name his sister’s cheek, Paul bounded away. of Washington, and strive to rear a memorial to “I bought the‘golden suite,’” continued Hart- his fame and deathless virtues ! The efforts of ley; “and here, together with your bridal wreath, : these energetic ladies were honored and re- it has lain enshrined—a souvenir of the times warded. A fashionable assemblage met in the that so sorely tried my darling—a memento of fine hall, which wore a truly festive appearance, my heroic little Jennie’s self-sacrifice.” — e —' — 1 — J -- ’ “ ” ' [For The Sunny South.J THE SOCIETY OF TO-DAY. BY GITHA EDBICH. spite of the tender efforts of his children to cheer resolve, and earnestly- requesting her visitor to and sustain him. The expenses of his sickness remain with Paul while she should be absent for and funeral swept away the last of their little a short time, Jennie hurriedly threw around means, and the delicate, inexperienced girl and 1 her a long-used cloak, and closely hooded and her young brother were left alone, penniless and vailed, went out into the streets, picking her friendless, in a strange city. Jennie, thinking way through mud and snow, over cross streets a. aty, tr * , ,r neai that Harry Hartley had returned to his home, and slippery sidewalks, going on and on through . . h j .., ' , e ^ , °dge> seated wro t e t 0 him and told him of their situation, the bitter cold, until she stopped in front of the r" 1 , . 0 *L 8 b °°¥ °P en befo * e ! Receiving no answer, she wrote again, and when house of Ketchum A Dodge For a moment her them, had their heads together and brows knit- atm no r | ply ca me, she be ]ieved that he too had heart failed, but thoughts of the poor sufferer ln i'r rkln ^°i l in I deserted her because of her changed circum- she had left made her brave, and she at once r/Lri P r0jec f ted s P e ™lation, that they did stance8 . ghe never once suspect ed that her let- proceeded to their presence, stating her condi- T rnDCe ° f „ a boy wltb a Llmdl f e ters had arrived before Harry’s return and had tion and asking a remittance of the wages due ot papers under his arm. He was quite a quaint- been rece ived and destroyed by his guardian, her brother, looking little fellow the “outer man present- who wished him to mar ^ hi / own § augbte r. ing a somewhat seedy appearance, while a bright wit h a little bitter smile a £ d a keen pang f j en - intell.gence beamed from his eyes and a half- nie had buried her love and tn3st , a £ d * e rved mischievous smile lurked around the corners of , berse lf to live and work for her brother’s sake, his mouth. For a moment or two, he remained The brave _ hearted little felImv had tnldged the standing upon the threshold, looking upon the i city throngh in search of employment, and had two men so suggestive to his mind of conspira- I at f ast fou £ d a lace where he * m ‘ ight earn a pit _ tors, that he involuntarily murmured, sotto voce: tnnce by doin £ work that shol f ld have c £ m . • a regular^gunpowder plot, as I manded more than double the xvages. Jennie also found some plain sewing to do, as her little fingers did beautiful work; and so they had managed to keep the wolf from the door during the summer and fall. But now the bitter win- live. Wonder which is Guy Fawkes.’’ “ Y’ou little rascal!” spoke Ketchum, the sen ior of the firm; “what are you standing there for? and what is that you were saying?” “I say, sir,” replied the lad, who was their office-boy, “that here are your bills, notes and accounts all just as you sent ’em out.” “And why were they not cashed?” “ House closed; everybody retired into winter quarters,” answered the boy, glancing up at the clock. “ Thunder and Mars !” ejaculated the man df business, indulging himself in a classic oath, though he was a shining light in his particular church. ter, with its added expenses and its fierce priva tions, was upon them, and Jennie’s heart sank with apprehensions. Meantime, Harry Hartley had returned, and, deeply grieved at the misfortunes that had be- “ That is not our way of doing business, miss. The boy, I dare say, is only playing truant, and it is your duty to bring him back to his work, instead of asking for money for him to spend in jimcracks,” said the senior of the concern. “That’s so,” echoed his shadow, the junior. “Oh ! sir, you do him wrong; he is sick, dan gerously so, and not one cent have we to pro cure medicine or the necessaries of life.” “ Take him to a hospital, then, and hire your self to nurse; I have no patience with such stuff,” replied the employer, who had fretted all the morning over the absence of his useful little lackey. “And is this your answer?” bitterly asked the girl. Mechanically she left the house, stunned as enough to nip buttons off'my jacket, and I stood it.” “Don’t doubt it,” gr.owled his other half. “And was that the time your nose was nipped ?” innocently inquired the boy, who in the mean time had deposited his papers in a drawer, and stood wistfully gazing into the red coals, over which he longed to spread his cold and stiffened fingers. “Get out of this, you impudent baggage, and mind how you speak to your superiors.” The usually placid Dodge was somewhat sore upon the particular point of his fiery pug nose. , , , , by a blow, unmindful that in the very door-wav fallen his promised bride, he sought her at once j was s t a nding one who made room for her to in the city to which she had removed. But he j pass 0 ut—that one Harry Hartley himself, who, couxd get no clue to her whereabouts, though he abke unconscious that the vailed ladv was Jen- spent time and money m the search. The great | nie Hudson, was now on his way to meet the Babel of New York seemed to have utterly swal- oung broth er, according to appointment. He lowed up the two friendless orphans. was told by the “ firm,” in a few words, that the * * * . * * * 1 hoy was not in—had in all probability taken to When Paul reached his home, which was only the rag-tag of the streets, but guessed his sister a small room in a tenement house, he found his would soon “fetch him ’round, as they were sister anxiously awaiting him, and much con- poor as church mice, and couldn’t afford to lose cerned by the late hour of his return. j his wages. The snuggery, as he cheeifully called their! “Was that the lady I passed only a few mo- little home-nest, although very neat, was almost ments ago?” almost breathlessly inquired the bare of comforts—a sad contrast to the beautiful young man. with refreshments, garlands, and the Marine BancJ making all happy under the influence of splendid promenade music and Strauss’ waltzes. Judge MacArthur, in his usual happy vein, made a few introductory remarks as the light was suddenly thrown upon “Italia’s child of ge nius—the beautiful Corinne,” and he was fol- Look at society as it was fifty years ago and as lowed by Dr. Chris C. Fox, xvith an elaborate it is to-day. How great the contrast! Then it oratorical address worthy of the occasion, was, as in Europe, under the controlling, refin- Dr. Stansbury, of the Washington National ing and dignifying influence of the parents. i Monument Society, also expressed the thanks of They were members of the cheerful circle gath- : the Committee for this labor of love on the part ered in the parlor; their wisdom, experience ! of fair woman in honor of him who, above all and cultivated taste lent a charm to the conver- • others that xvon for us liberty, is “first in the sation, while directing it in the most agreeable hearts of his country.” The painting was grace- channels. fully draped with maroon cloth, and around the Now, mothers are considered a restraint—are massive frame hung a garland of brightest green, banished from the parlors; fathers are “old surmounted with a wreath of lilies. All the fogies;” little children, with their sweet, guile- surroundings were typical, and the very atmos- less ways, their innocent prattle, are “a worry.” phere breathed of perfume, poetry and song, as The reception room must be solely for the use lovely young maidens, pure as the white robes of the young lady daughter and her friends, they wore, flitted about with rosebud bouton- Indeed, should her fastidious admirers call, and nieres, and gave a charm to the hours with their be honored by the presence of older members of pleasant words and sweetest smiles. The pic- the family, the visit is rarely repeated; they feel i ture in itself was a spell—a figure strong, yet aggrieved and affronted at a circumstance xvhich graceful, a face classically beautiful and refined, should be considered a compliment. In banish- the large eyes with a mournful tenderness and ing the older, dignifying element from the social a depth of feeling that spoke volumes in a glance; circle of young people, the steadying influence j the exquisite hands—one sweeping the harp is lost, their giddy heads turn to the most fnvo- , strings, the other resting on the frame—so true lous topics, such as the last party, the dresses, j to nature that the swelling veins with their the flirtations, and such and such a rumor. Nor proud azure blood could have readily deceived is this all. Left to themselves, there has crept many eyes, so skilled was the artist that fash- in the most utter lack of maidenly reserve upon , ioned those hands and gave to them life and the patt of the young ladies, and a freedom and j beauty. It is to be hoped this valuable painting familiarity on the part of the gentlemen that { will adorn the Art Gallery at the Centennial, once would have been deemed most indecorous, i and stand beside the historical scenes that Mrs. Very far is it from my thoughts to urge a stiff, Morrell has painted, and for which, we learn, ceremonious formality, or to advise that either | space is already appropriated, during or after school-days girls be denied the j These two American artists, intimate friends society of the other sex. I think that social in- and co-workers, occupy a high place in the es- tercourse between the two, properly maintained, ! teem of the people. is an advantage to each. But why is it that in ! The entertainment closed with many regrets modern times there is no quiet, improving in- ! that the hours were so limited. The generous tercourse—no pleasant exchange of thought and merchants of the district made donations to this sentiment ? Why is it that even during child- fete, and every one appealed to gave proof of hood there is no thought among them except , their interest in the monument. But to no one sweethearts,” and, later, “lovers?” Why is it I is there greater praise due than to Mr. J. F. | home that had been theirs. But it was a shelter ; from the storm, a place of refuge, so long as the ! rent bill was promptly paid, which failing, the j streets, perchance, would be their only home, as ! is too often the case in the heartless cities. “How late you are, Paul, and how cold !”said “No offense, I hope, sir,” said the v “impudent the sis , ter - tak . in g off his ca P and brushing the . i __ t . snow from his worn coat. “Poor child, how bageage,” with mock humility. “Can I go now, j sir?” “Y’es, get out; but mind you are here early in i the morning. Stop; you may saddle my horse, bring him around and hold him till I am ready j to leave.” The boy, already half frozen and worn out j with the day’s work, turned quietly away and j proceeded to do his bidding snow from his worn coat. “Poor child, how you tremble! Here, darling, sit by the stove and warm yourself while you drink your tea. See, I have kept it nice and steaming for you.” “ So I will,” and sitting down, he thrust his now bare feet, purple with cold, into the stove, “to thaxv,” as he said. Looking around and perceiving the little dishes, upon which were laid a broiled steak, “The same, sir.” “Enough !” he indignantly 1 cried; and casting upon them a look of withering scorn, he abruptly left the house. But nowhere was Jennie visible. Hopeless as the case seemed for the present, he at once set out determined to find her. In an ante-room of a large establishment of “Dealers in Hair,” a young girl sat, white as a beautiful piece of statuary, and almost as life less—her long golden hair falling like a cloud of amber over her shoulders and descending in soft, rippling waves to the floor. “Ah! mademoiselle, you do wise to take my grande offer—ten dollars—for your hair: bon pay 7 . del! but ’tis glorious— superbe /” chattered the little French woman, as she fairly danced over her prize, in the meantime mercilessly thrusting the scissors through the strands of fine-spun I am as cold ! ' yes ’ ^ rem ember,— ‘Lucullus sups with Lu- gold, until the last tress was severed. 1 cullus to-night.’ I’ll fancy I am he, and enjoy Like a lamb upon the altar of sacrifice, the that these thoughts occupy their minds almost to the exclusion of everything else? Why is there so little voluntary effort among them for self-improvement—so little reading except a sur face skimming of lighter literature ? Much of the ex 7 il grows out of the present cus tom of leaving young people so much to them selves. And much is chargeable upon the press of the day 7 . Many of the best books, stories in the best magazines, are pernicious in their influ ence without being so intended. Where will you find a novel that does not represent the lovers in an objectionable light—more familiar than brother and sister—embraces, kisses, and all the other disgusting details now deemed nec essary for an interesting narrative ? Is it strange that young girls, reading these, should be mis led? that like the heroines, their hearts become pliant to the touch of each new lover, and that he, in his turn, sharing like favors with the others, gradually aids her in reaching that de tested point, “ the fast girl of the period?” I take it, that not one in a hundred of the present generation of young people have a true conception of the beauty, the nobility of earnest, self-forgetting love. With most of them it is a theme for jesting—a pleasant pastime. They fritter away what capacity may have been given their hearts, and when the time comes for be stowing that inestimable treasure, they find themselves “bankrupt;” and marriage, that should bring them the richest crown in all life’s treasure-house, confers but a gilded bauble that Cake, proprietor of Willard’s Hotel, as he gave the hall free of charge, and otherwise aided with his usual liberality. This gentleman’s heart is ever open to worthy appeals, and the church, the Centennial, and all noble causes, owe him gratitude for his prompt response and sympathy. In his genial countenance one reads that com mendable quality which befriends unstintedly 7 and graciously. During the winter season, his grand establishment, overflowing with guests, presents one of the most attractive pictures of gay 7 life in Washington, and the order that pre vails and his liberality in prox-iding for the com fort and pleasure of his people, is as much a theme as at.Congress Hall, Cape May, where he resides with bonhommie, and at which place there is always an ocean of fun and delight as great as the expanse of the old Atlantic, with its ceaseless roar and music of the waves. Washington, July 1, 1875. Searching the French Kuins. Since the terrible floods in the South of France the work of searching the ruins has been going on with some remarkable results. At the place xvhere St. Cyprien stood, the corpse of the female giant, witti a pair of artificial legs, to which her feet were strapped, was in her tinsel croxvn and dress of crimson cotton velvet. She and her husband had probably sat up late, and were only thinking of divesting themselves of their finery . . when a wax 7 e swept over the plain, and in its re soon breaks and leaves only a disappointed re- j co j] dre w them into the central current. A frail membrance of all the fanciful, extravagant ; raltj pro bably constructed on some housetop dreams ol their youth. Then they do not see w jth the sticks and boards at hand, was thrown “Too saucy a chap bv half,” said the junior buttered toast and ai* egg he exclaimed: partner, gentlv caressing his insulted knob of a 1 . Ju P lte 5’ Jennie! what a trump you are to nasal member i g et U P such a feast lor a belated, good-for-noth- “Yes. but a sharp one, who can be trained to in 8 chn P ! . Well,” drawing up his chair, “what good service ” j scrap ot History is it that wants to come up now “Come now, Selim, stand still. as you are, sir. Besides, you have on three, - ,, ., - ,, , .- times as manv shoes as I have. Yours are good, J 11 ' supper as well as the old heathen did Ins strong iron: mine is half-worn leather on one ba “q Btt . ot peacock s brains, or as his Olympian strong foot— the other bundled up after a fashion to hide the rents and make the clerks believe there is a bad toe in the case. Be blessed if I am going to tell them I am too poor to wear genteel boots; but I don't mind telling you, Selim, for I am sure you won’t mention it. Oh ! that you were Pegasus and I were Mercury or Jupiter. Wouldn't we get out of this snow and have a jolly gallop oft' somewhere to the tropics, sing- ‘Away, away, my steed and I.”’ gods enjoyed their feasts of nectar and ambrosia. I know very well I've a prettier Hebe to wait upon me than ever they could boast;” and he bent down and kissed his sister’s hand as she set down his smoking tea. Notwithstanding his loiced cheerfulness and pretended appetite, he scarcely tasted the “little least.” He drank his tea, and carefully setting away the rest, said he would finish after awhile, when he had rested. Then he threw himself on his humble pallet, and drawing his sister to mg And he sang, shouting and dancing the length ! nT1 “ D of the bridle. e e , him said: “I bad an adventure to-night, friend.” “ What are you doing, you young hurricane?” J said Dodge, roughly seizing the boy by the arm. “Blowin’ off' the stame, yer honor, to kape j meself from meltin . ’ replied* the boy,with a per fect imitation ot Irish brogue. “Silence, and be off. You’ll go to the gallows ; yet.’ muttered the man as he rode away. “ASill I, though? Well, that will be kind of j you to allow me to go to your hanging. You ! thought to punish me by keeping me out in the cold so long,” said the little fellow, his teeth j chattering as in an ague. “Well, for Jennie’s I sake I will stand it now. But as sure as my ! name is Paul Hudson I will not alwavs have a I saw an old girl was mute until the woman, holding her treasure at arm's length, bid her look; and gaz ing for one instant upon what had been her crowing glory, the girl asked: “Have you finished?” “ Oui, mademoiselle, and here is your pay,” handing her a ten dollar bank-note and men tally going over the net fifty dollars she would realize in the sale of braids, plaits and curls. Darting out of the house, Jennie Hudson—for it was she—cried to herself: “Now, Paul, my precious brother, you shall be saved!” She had stopped at a corner; with vail thrown back and hi ad uplifted, was looking for an apoth ecary's sign, when near by she heard the words: “Jennie. Jennie! my long lost darling! At last have I found vou !” that they themselves are at fault —do not see that life is just as the all-wise Father intended it,— earnest, noble, axalted, if his creatures only- make it so. They go through the world bereft of half the glory of living, insomuch as they have lost the best quality of their own hearts,— a deep, ever-abiding, self-sacrificing affection. I have a fair young friend, beautiful to behold, features cast in most classic mould, figure grace ful as a lily’s. Looking upon her, you would think, how worthy to be loved ! What did I hear a young gentleman say, in the significant phraseology of the day? “She is a girl with w-hom you can have fun. ” Is it wonder that my 7 cheeks tinge with the hue of shame for my young sister? Is it wonder that I sigh for the modesty, the coy grace, the maidenly reserve so ornamental to woman ? These strictures are in no mood of unkind ness, but of earnest interest. The words are from a heart warm with love for the young maid ens just reaching the responsibility of woman in upon land near the hospital. It bore a live poodle and a dead woman, both of which were fastened to it. Tne soldiers made much of the poor brute, and carried him joyously to their barracks. A parrot which came unhurt out of a ruin has also been adopted by the troops which saved it. Its talk attracted the attention of some linesmen, who labored hard to dig it out, think ing they 7 had come upon somebody driven mad with fright. The proportion of mad people among the inmates of the hospital is great. The returns of the police commissaries state that among the bodies discovered more than two- thirds are those of women and children. A pile of house-linen has been collected at the bridge. The bodies, xvhich the first day after the water subsided were thrown any way into the wagons, are now- wrapped in sheets, in which, after they are undressed and photographed, they are again wound. These sheets do the same service as the canvas in which people dying at sea are con signed. Burials go on by torchlight as well as hood, and from a desire, perhaps quixotic of b “ day li gll t. The Christian Brothers,'who are influencing them aright. I know that “the j no t use d to the spade and pick-ax, have been re source, according to the old proverb, is always lieved from graV ej- a rd duties, and the troops, considered and for that reason anticipate the who are ready for all work> d j sc harge in their thought, which may possibly arise m the minds stead the f unc tions of sextons. of those who read these lines. “A sour, disap pointed old maid,” they will say; “ugly and cross. She does not sympathize with the feel Boxfobd, Massachusetts, has no hotel or drink- friend?” she asked hastily. “He was a friend once in the good old times. and he talked and looked right friendly this One startled look she cast around, when “Oh, ings of young people—does not understand i n g saloon, no drunkard or loafer, no lawyer or evening. It was Harry Hartley, Jennie,” he an- Harry !” was all she could say—her soul-lit eyes them; we need not listen nor give heed to her doctor. The inhabitants number over one thou- instantly filling xvith the tears she had so long advice.” But no; my life counts little more heroically struggled against. , than half the fifty years I mentioned. Not an He clasped the little hand, drawing it unre- j old maid, but the mother of merry young ehil- sistinglv within his arm, and was walking on. dren-and the sister of young people, like your- xvhen Jennie, suddenly overcome by emotion, selves, surrounded by the unfortunate influ- “He wanted to come home with me and see looked up into the face’bending fondly over her j ences of this age. you, and I told him I xvould ask you about it, and cried: - It is in the power of the young ladies to mould and give him your answer at the store to-mor- “Oh! let us go for a physician, for Paul is society. Let them do it "to their own credit. swered, watching her face. “Harry Hartley!” The crimson flashed over Jennie’s face and quickly faded. “Yes,” she said, “he was a friend once.” doctor. The inhabitants number over one thou sand, and the deaths average about four a year. Massachusetts had better send Boxford to the Centennial. row. Was that right ?” very, very ill.’ Let them welcome their parents to the parlor. A Michigan farmer’s daughter almost killed a young fellow last week by putting a dose of “ condition poxvders ” in his cider. He was slow in his wooing, and she wanted to make him i “frisky,” as she calls it.