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THE POET TO IHS HARP. pernicious toy ! struck with so feeble hand. The note but reached to the fend player e ear, Barren, X fling it on the sand, And curse it here! Most foolish, fatal “ instrument of woe! ” TLat, uhile it prompts the melancholy thrall To sing a thousand joys be dees not know, Kobe him of all. Where is my yonth ? Gone in a song nnheard— Gone every stirring, manly enterprise; For real passion, lo! an empty word, And dreams and lies. And woman's love—Ah, cruel trick of song, That fills the heart up to the very brim, Sor lets the man die out, though all have long Been dead to him. Delusion folk wed by a strange despa r! Life lost - hope lost— in solitude I dwell. Like some pale anchorite whose faith—whose prayer- Died in his cell. came over his countenance which a man with a very lively imagination might have construed into a feebly incipient smile, and at last he said: “ I will drive you there.” “And defend me if we are attacked? Don’t forget that.” “Yes, I will defend you.” “Well, then, here is your money; and now “Here, you, sir—come down !” The coachman did not stir. “Come down, I tell you, or we will fetch you.” He did not make the slightest motion. “Come, boys, let us fetch him,” said the leader to the others, and threw a good-sized stone at the driver. “All right,” they answered, laughing; and all (For Tt<f Sun, y South.) Cosmopolitan Stories; see that you are ready as soon as I have finished four went to work with a vim, and made stones my supper.” and pieces of wood fly around him thick and By the time the Englishman was through with fast like hail, his evening meal, the moon had risen beauti- He shook himself three or four times, as a fully in a clear, blue sky, and the inn-keeper j well-directed missile hit him rather hard, and announced to his guest that the horses were ; finally commenced his descent slowly and delib- ready. j erately. When he had reached the ground, they The stranger paid his bill and wn*” a sign to ! all gathered around him, and one of them gave his new coachman, who followed him out in ?he a vigorons slap to the crown of his hat, so that yard and climbed upon the box like some huge, it sunk down over his eyes, and said: unwieldy, antedeluvian monster. The landlord, “This, my tall friend, you must take as a with his hat in his hand, opened the coach door hint to be a little more attentive when gentle- to the stranger, wishing him a happy journey, men speak to you.” and the carriage started. He raised his hat again and adjusted it on his They had been rolling for about half an hour head without saying a word, on a smooth and even road through a dark [[I say, look at me!” another addressed him. —OR.— UNDER SIX FLAGS. pine forest, and the Englishman, leaning com fortably in a corner of the carriage, was just chuckling to himself over the clever manner in which he had foiled the landlord's design upon his purse, when the carriage suddenly stopped, the door opened, and through it looked a head, He did not budge an inch. “Now, I will try to teach you some manners,” the robber continued, “by showing that yon must turn your face towards the person who does you the honor to address you.” And he took hold of the driver’s nose rather CHAPTER XVIII. ABOfT A COACHMAN. Another day was gone, and another evening had swept its dark shades around the eastern hemisphere. The tap-room of a remote village inn in the Black Forest commenced to till gradually with its hnbitnal evening customers, who, snugly en sconced behind their beer-glasses and tobacco pipes, were before long quietly ventilating the tame news of their obscure neighborhood. Suddenly the indistinct hum of voices was interrupted by the noise of carriage wheels roll ing np the inn-yard, and as every unimportant event assumed a greater significance in that out-of-the-way place in proportion to its dis tance from the high roads of lite, everybody was on the tip-toe of expectation. Their curiosity was soon satisfied, for in a few minutes the door was thrown open, and in walked a tall, ruddy, middle-aged gentleman, the importance ol whose bearing announced him to be something above the common herd. His general appearance, as well as his accent when he commenced speak ing, convinced the company assembled that he was an Englishman. “Where is the landlord ?” he asked. “Here, sir,'' answered a rather corpulent, red faced individual who walked up to him, taking his pipe out of his mouth. “Landlord,” continued the Granger, “how long will it take me to reach the town of D , which I understand is situated somewhere on the other side of the mountain ridge that runs between it and this place?” "About two hours, my Lord.” The landlord addressed him with this title partly because he wanted to curry favor with him for some secret reasons of his own, and partly because be had an undefined idea that every Englishman was more or less entitled to that appellation. “Can you get me post horses for that place this evening ?” the Englishman further asked. “Ah—well—yes—I suppose I can, if you wish it particularly.” “You appear to hesitate. What is the diffi culty ?” “Now, n.y Lord, to tell you the truth,” said the landlord, scratching himself behind the ear, “I would hardly advise anybody to undertake that journey so late as this.” “ And why not ?” «■ Well, you see, there are some right bad peo ple abroad in these parts just now, and several robberies have been committed here within the past few weeks.” “Pshaw! I am not afraid of robbers,” said the stranger, who imagined he could see through the landlord’s reasons fr wishing to detain him. “I have a dear old tric-nd in the town ot D who is expecting me this evening, and I must go, robbers or no robbers.” “If you will, you will—that is all,” rejoined the landlord, reluctantly. “But let me advise yon not to start before the moon rises, at any rate, which will be in about an hour from now.” “There is some sense in that,” said the Eng lishman, with a quizzical smile. “Yes, I will wait til! the moon rises, and in the meanwhile you may prepare a good supper for me.” At this juncture an ill-favored fellow, who had been listening attentively to the conversa tion between the landlord and his guest, finished his glass, paid his reckoning, and left the room quietly. “Did von notice the man who went out just now, bit Lord ?” asked the landlord. “ Yes! Why ?” “I did not like the looks of him at all,” said mine host, shaking his head mysteriously. He then turned to the guests and asked “Does any one of you know him ?” They all answered 'in the negative. “That man is not all right, you may depend upon it,” he continued, gravely. " I think, my Lord, yon had better reconsider your intention of departing this evening. “Bah!” exclaimed the stranger, contemptu ously; “ don’t you bother your brain about rob bers" any further, but see that you get my supper and the horses ready as soon as it is consistent with your nature.” “Very well, my Lord.” In spite of all his apparent nonchalance, the Englishman was not nearly so well at ease as his conduct indicated. He walked up and down the floor, weighing in his mind how much cause for fear there really might exist, when his eyes fell upon an object that he had not observed hitherto. This was a man who was sitting all by liimselt in a corner, half hidden by the shade and motionless like a hog. The only indication ot life which he now and then gave was when he slowly reached out his arm and carried to his lips a" tall beer-glass that was standing on a table at bis side. The Englishman approached him and began surveying him with deep aston ishment. He must have been at least seven feet tall; his -shoulders were broad as a barn-door, and" the knitting ot his frame indicated a strength that would have been sufficient to pull down a church-steeple. Finally the Englishman addressed him: “I say, friend.” He did not move. The Englishman touched him lightly on the shoulder and said: “ I want to speak to yon. ’ He raised his eyes slowly to the Englishman’s face, as if to ask him what he wanted. •• Do you know the way to D ?” aaked the latter. “Yes,” the German answered, in a voice like the blast of a bass trombone. “Cau you drive well?” “Yes.” . “Will you drive me to D this evening : “Don’t know.” “Now listen to me,” continued the English man, talking as distinctly as he could in order to make as stroDg an impression as possible on this semi-animated Colossus. " It you will drive me to D , and promise te defend me it we are attacked on the road, I will give yon this money.” And he took three shining sovereigns ont of his pocket and snowed them to the Black ior- ester. The eyes of that gentleman rested for some seconds on the coins. Gradually an expression from the bearded lips of which issued this com- roughly, and turned his head around. The lat- mand; , ter showed no sign of any emotion, except that “ Step out!” i his lips became slightly compressed, and a dusky The traveler did so, and found himself stir- frown was gathering on his brow, rounded by four very suspicious looking char- A third one of the party, whom the English- acters, in an open glade, into which they had man recognized as being the person who left the just emerged. * , tap-room while he was talking to the landlord, The one -who had opened the carriage door, j now came forward and said: and who seemed to be the leader of the party, j “ It has been decided in open court that you was a rather pleasant, jovial-looking sort of an are going to have a good thrashing, and by way individual, who showed unmistakable evidence ; of an appetizer to that feast, I would pray you of having seen better days. He addressed the j to accept this.” Englishman in a polite and friendly way. j And he gave him a violent kick on his shin. “ Do not be agitated, I pray you, sir. You ! The coachman clenched both his lists, drew have not the least cause for fear, if you conduct j them up to a level with his shoulders, and yourself, as I have no doubt you will, in a man- j struck out in different directions, the right nor befitting this occasion. As you may have ; hand hitting the leader, and the left the man guessed already.my friends here and I aregentle- who had just spoken, with such violence that men whom the world has treated rather roughly, j they fell senseless to the ground, completely and who for that reason have been obliged to stunned by the fury of the blows. He then engage in a business which I believe is generally j seized bold of the third and threw him, as if he looked down upon with some disfavor by soci- j had been a kitten, a distance of about ten yards, ety. You, however, being to all appearances a j where he fell down with a great splash into a sensible and unprejudiced man, cannot help j pool of stagnant water by the roadside. The seeing that a more equal division of property j fourth one took to his heels, and ran for his would be nothing but just and equitable, and as ; life. ferent religious creeds, and other matters re lated to the subject.” “ Thank heaven. I shall be out of the country by that time,” said Francois aside to Jonathan. “ When will you come back, John ?” Karl asked. “I think I shall be here towards the end of September. ” “About that time my business will require { my presence here also,” said the Russian, “and if Jonathan will remain with me till that time, I hope we shall return together.” “Of course we shall,” said the American. “Ah! this fits very nicely,” Francois ob served. “ I shall try to be present, and then we can continue our meetings for some time, can we not?” “l”es,”said John, “if you all wish it.” They all gave their enthusiastic approval to Francois’ proposition. “Suppose we meet here,” John resumed, “on the first of the coming October, at eight o'clock in the evening; will that suit you ?” It suited them to a nicety. “ Well, that being understood, let us now adjourn.” “Before we separate,” said the Russian, “let me send for a basket of champagne and a box of cigars, and have a parting glass with you.” “Very thoughtful in you, Michael,” said ! Karl. And after having wished each other a pros- j perous journey and a happy return over the sparkling fluid, the Cosmopolitans took a recess till the first of October. VEND OF THE FIRST SERIES.) [In finishing the First Series of the above titled stories, I cannot refrain from expressing my thanks to my many friends and the public for the kind interest they have manifested in | these insignificant productions. These stories j were originally not intended for publication, | and lay no claim to literary merit; but since I learn that the public has received them with some favor, however undeserved, I may feel en couraged to continue them at some future time. -0. A. E.] we evidently stand in greater need of money than yon do, perhaps you would have no objec tion to handing over your purse to us poor fel lows.” The Englishman looked up at his defender, but as he found him very tranquil and uncon cerned on his seat, without giving the slightest sign of any intention to come to his employer's aid, and understanding that any attempt at sin gle-handed resistance would be worse than use less, he thought that the best tking to be done under the circumstances was to enter into the humor of his assailants, whereupon he handed the leader his purse anil said: Your reasons are so extremely cogent and When this feat had been performed, which did not occupy more time than about half a minute, the driver again relapsed into his usual apathy, bowed down, and commenced leisurely to rifie the pockets of his victims. He recov ered all that his employer had lost, and found a good many things besides, which he gathered up in his hat and offered to him. “ These things do not belong to me,” said the Englishman. “All the same,” answered the coachman. “You take them and try to find their owner. But get into your carriage and let us be off, for it is getting late.” As soon as his patron had resumed his seat, convincing, that it would be churlish in me to j he climbed up on the box and drove on, as if . ,i ..J ±i. ; i... j l r .A *X>I : i -i. 11-.:- try to refute them, and therefore I hope you will accept this small token of my friendship and re- gard.” “ Well, now, this is what I call pleasant and comfortable,” said the robber, putting the purse in his pocket. “It is really charming to meet with gentlemen who understand howto conduct bnsiness without indulging in any unnecessary circumlocutions. But to proceed. Time is not of much value to people of your independent position in life, whereas we poor foresters must always be c n our lookout and endeavor to utilize every minute; and as ie do not happen to have a watch among us, I should not be surprised if yen would relieve us of this difficulty also by transferring to us the possession of yours.” The Englishman again looked at his coach man. He was immovable. “Well, you seem to be fully impressed with the truth of the old adage that ‘time is money,’ ” he said, and handed over his watch. “ I see a beautiful ring on your finger there,” continued the forester, as he styled himself. “Now permit me to let you have a glance into the romantic part of my life. I love a beautiful girl, and I am happy to say that my tender feel ings are reciprocated; but it has always been a ' that has lasted some seven centuries now, and it is no telling how long his Red Bearded Maj esty will stay at his marble table yet. “ Well,” said Karl, “I don’t think that will be so very long. I believe, to judge from present indications, that the old emperor is stirring, and if he is the next one to disturb Michael's nothing had happened. They arrived at their destination without further adventure, and when the Englishman had told his friend of his driver’s exploit, the latter sent an order to fur nish his guest’s valiant coachman with a big supper and plenty of beer. As Karl thus finished his story, John re marked: “That coachman of yours, Karl, is a very- fair representative of the immense power of the Teutonic race, which lies hidden under cover of its naturally tbrpiu dispp^fffftn.” “Yes, pretty fair,” sai4 Karl. “ Der deutche Michel is very fond of his quiet nap) If rudely awakened, however, he giifes terrible slaps some times, and it is a pity that his inclination to wards snoozing returns as soon as the excite ment is over.” “ What were those German words you pro nounced just now?” asked the Frenchman. “ Der deutche Michel, or the German Michael, if you will have them in translation.” “What is the meaning of that expression, Kari ?” "The German Michael is a kind of mythological ^ ; ^ embodiment, or allegorical personification of source of :egret to me that an unpropitious fate ; the strength, kindness, endurance, sagacity and has ever disabled me from testifying the warmth , sluggishness of the German character, ’ an- of my emotions by offering the lady of my love ; swered K rl. some of those little trinkets after which the! “ He gave us a pretty good pawing the other guileless female heart so often hankers. Now, ' year, that German Michael,” continued Fran- it strikes me that that very ring of yours would j cois, good-naturedly. “But don’t you think he be the very thing to present her with, and if you | is preparing for another nap now, Karl?” would like to part with it, I assure you that the | “I am afraid he is getting a little drowsy,” remembrance of you will forever remain green was the German's inoffensive rejoinder. “ But in two loving hearts. ” i if he should go to sleep again, pray don’t awaken The Englishman pulled it off and gave it to him as abruptly as you did the last time, Fran- his eloquent interlocutor, remarking: j cois, if you know what is good for you—and “I have always been an admirer of tbe fair | for us, too.” sex, and would be very happy indeed if this “ I suppose that same celebrated Michael little trifle should prove to be the means of join- never will have a bright, permanent awaken ing in closer bonds two hearts and minds so i ing,” said John, “until the return of good old noble as yours and your sweetheart’s undoubt- j emperor, Frederick Barbarossa, after his doze edly are.” “Thank you a thousand times, my dear sir. We will remember you in our prayers. New, is there any other tririe you would feel prompted by your generosity to btstow on us, your unfor tunate friends ?” “ There is a small trunk containing a few arti cles of wearing apparel in the carriage yonder, dreams, then beware ! But talking of Friedrick but I could not think of insulting gentlemen of Roihcart, I would remark that ” your sensitive and refined feelings by offering “ I beg your pardon for interrupting you,” you anything of that kind.” ; John here interposed, to the evident relief of “Of course not. Wnat do you take us for? Francois, “but I received a letter from my We could not accept a tittle of it, even if you i mother yesterday, informing me that my pres- were to force it on us. And this affair being enee in England is required as speedily as pos- now ended, as I hope to our mutual satisfac- sible. I must, therefore, be up early to-morrow tion, it only remains for me to give you our morning to catch the first train, and find my- most heartfelt thanks for your unwonted gener- self, on that account, under the disagreeable osity. If there is anything in the world we can necessity of bidding you gcod-night, and fare- do for you, pray mention it, and you will com- well for some time.” mand our unlimited services.”' “I am very sorry to hear that, John,” said the “G=ntlemen, it is almost impossible for me Swede. “This will, of course, break up our to express the gratitude with which your liberal club, for the present, at least.” offer fills my heart; hut as our respective lines “I am afraid it will,” said the Russian. “But of business are somewhat divergent. I am afraid yet, this happens rather opportunely as far as I I shall have no opportunity to avail myself of am concerned. I also have got some advices your kind proposi'.ion. Y’et hold, though! I from Russia, which compel me to leave you in believe I have a favor to ask of you.” a few days, and when I mentioned it to my “What is it? Name it! Tell us!” they all friend Jonathan, on our way hither this evening, exclaimed, eagerly. he expressed a desire to go with me for the pnr- “ Do you see that bulky coachman on the box pose of—what was the expression you used, yonder?” Jonathan?” “ Yes, he is visible enough.” “Prospecting,” said the American. “Well, that man pledged himself, for the con- “Yes, that was it —prospecting, whatever that sideration of three pounds sterling, to drive me may signify, ' to the town of D ■, and likewise to assist me "That means, in our parlance, to fly around in settling accounts in case I was to have any a strange country in order to catch chances,” I transactions with gentlemen of your persuasion, explained Jonathan. Yon can judge for yourselves how he has ful- 1 "Well, as there seems to be a general break- j filled the second part of his bargain. Now, if ing up of our charming little club,” said the you will give him a good, sound thrashing, it Frenchman. “I shall continue my journey to would make the remembrance of this meeting Rome, which was so agreeably interrupted by vastly more agreeable to me than it otherwise my making your acquaintance, and seize the op- might be, and also benefit our iriend yonder by portunity to make a few sketches during my teaching him to pay a stricter attention to his slow traveling to the land of sunshine and poe- moTal obligations in the future.” try. But what are you going to do with your- j “Nothing can be more reasonable,” said the self, Karl?” chief, as he and his comrades showed their ap- “I shall remain here the whole summer, and predation of the traveler's joke by a hearty continue my researches. And what are your laugh. “Such looseness of morals as that lei- plans. Erik?” low has exhibited is highly reprehensible, and “I shall make a trip to Sweden for two or calculated to shock one’s feelings, and we cer- three weeks, to look after some property I have tainlv owe it as a J.utv to voursell and the com- there.” he answered, “and then I will return (For The Sunny South.) RELIGIOUS DEPARTMENT. Donation Parties to the Clergy. Many things wear very clever names, that are very bad things, “ one of which ” a donation party “ is whom.” We are opposed to them in toto. They have done damage to many of the churches, and it is to the discussion of that damage we call attention. The injury has been threefold. 1st. It has hurt the preacher. There is inseparably connected with the things the notion that the preacher is a kind of object of charity—a sort of pauper too worthless to receive a stolid salary, and too respectable to be boarded at tbe poor house. Perhaps in a less clearly defined way, but yet in some way, the preacher feels this, and whenever he does he either compromises his manliness by approving of them, or feels embarrassed by the kind (?) but humiliating insinuation contained in them. We commend to our readers the words of a great American writer on this subject. Speak ing of those preachers who love such things he says: “They are men whose hands are always open to receive whatever comes; who delight in dona tion parties and who grasp right and left with insatiable greed at gifts. They become so mean spirited that they do not like to pay for anything, and do not think it right that they should be called on to pay for anything. They are sponges upon their people and the commu nity. Wherever they happen to be, they ‘ lie down on the brethren.' “ The abject meanness into which a pastor can sink and the corresponding and consequent powerlessness into which he can descend, finds too frequent illustration among the American ministry. It is shocking and sickening that there are some men who seem forced by their parishes to live in this way, and it is still more disgusting to find some men who seem tolerably comfortable and contented while living in this way. If a man is fit to preach he is worth wages. If he is worth wages they should be paid with all the business regularity that is demanded and enforced in business life. “ Good, manly pastors and preachers do not want gifts; they want wages. It is not a kind ness to eke out insufficient salaries by donation parties and by benefactions from the richer members of the flock. It is not a merit, as they seem to regard it, for parishes or individuals to do this. It is an acknowledgement of indebt edness which they are too mean to pay in a business way.” We shall next week and the week after discuss its effect upon the church and the world. rnunity at large to check a depravity of this kind as far as it lies in our power. ” He now turned to the coachman and called out: and keep yon company, Karl, if you wish it.” “Ah! that will be splendid,” exclaimed the German. “Then we can continue our discourse touching the influence of climate upon the dif- The Pen After the Pistol. In a late issue of the “ Southern Christian Advocate,” Doctor Haygood, the editorial corres pondent, lets fly a volley against church papers advertising pistols. Keep up the music, it is “melodious to our attentive ear.” We hope his pen will not only be “mightier than the sword,” but more powerful than the revolver. If he carries his point he deserves a memorial page in the records of those courts who take cognizance of the crime of carrying concealed weapons. Book Notice. “Jesus the Christ.” “ Lessons from the Evan gelists,” by Atticus G. Haygood, D. D., President of Emory College. Macon, Ga. ;J. IF. Burke. The above is the title of a series of question books prepared for Sunday school use, by Dr. Haygood. He has brought to his task culture, talent and the valuable experience of his life as as Sunday School Secretary of the M. E. Church South. He has wrought a good work. To those who approve of the system of Bible truth, of which the Doctor is one ot the brightest ex ponents in this country, these books will be in valuable. They are admirable, inimitable in conception and perlect in execution. Price S3.00 per dozen. Items. In the Presbyterian General Assembly at Chi cago, May 20, a memorial was presented relating to communion wine. The committee reported that the control of this subject should be left to the sessions of the several churches, with an earnest recommendation that the purest wine attainable be used. An amendment that intoxi cating wine is not a necessity at communion, but that non-alcohol fruit of the vine should be used was tabled, and the report adopted. We wish they had put that amendment under the table. The church establishes her divinity when she continues to progress, while carrying sneh a load of fools and fanatics. The Southern Presbyterian General Ass-mbly in New Orleans adopted a set of resolutions against the modern dance. They condemn the public, the private, the round, the square, tbe high, the low, and the school that teaches it. Good! “If by their fruits you shall know them,” be a good test dances are an unmixed curse. Thackerat says it is the amusement of a fool, and it is impolite to contradict one’s sen ior; we agree. Ox June 3, the Pope at the celebration of his fiftieth anniversary of his elevation to the epis copate, received about five thousand pilgrims, mostly Italians. He was exhausted by the ex citement. There were present one hundred and ninety bishops. The Ohio Synod of the Welsh Calvinistie Methodist Church convened in Cincinnati, May 25. Rev. J. W. Evans, of Oak Hill, Ohio, was elected Moderator. The Northern Presbyterian Church has taken a square, firm stand on the liqnor question, j condemning it in toto, whether drank in mode ration or excess, or sold wholesale or retail. Refreshing! I Mr. Henry Field, of Chicago, Treasurer of the “ Bliss Fond.” has received in all, np to April 10. $10,130.37. Of that sum he has invest ed $10,000 lor 10,000 United States bonds, bear- ! ing interest at the rate of four and a half per cent., and registered in the name of the Bliss children. It is a singular fact that the first translation • of the Bible in the Russian vernacular, approved i by tbe Czar, as the head of the Greek Church, and by that Church itself, has been completed only within the present year. Bishop Talbott, ofP. E. Church, in Indiana, denies the charges of Mrs. Emma Molloy, of South Bend. This temperance lecturer report ed in Vermont that the Bishop is a drunkard, j One great reason why the temperance cause has succeeded so tardily is it has bad so many un scrupulous advocates who to make their lectures “take, ’ would tell anything for sensation’s | sake. The Convention for 1877, of the Maine Univer- salists, was held June 26, in Rockland. The General Conference of the United Bre thren in Christ, just closed at Westfield, 111., elected the following Bishops: the Revs. J. J. Glossbrenner, D. D., J. Weaver, D. D., J. Dick son, D. D., Milton Wright, and N. Castle. Tbe Rev. J. W. Holt was appointed editor of the “Telescope.” and the Rev. W. O. Toby, assis tant. The Rev. Daniel Berger was re-appointed editor of the Sunday school literature, and the Rev. W. Mittendorf, editor of the German pa pers. The Rev. W. J, Shuey has been appoint ed for the fifth time in charge of the financial affairs of the Dayton Book Concern. The Rev. D. K. Flickinger was re-appointed General Missionary Secretary. The Rev. J. K. Billbei- mer succeeds the Rev. Mr. Holt as Missionary Treasurer. Tight Laeiiii BY S. A. S. Did you ever find one woman who was willing to own that she drew her own corset-strings too tight ? Oh, dear, no! she always wears her clothes quite comfortable. At night, when sbe takes off her clothes, there are great red creases in her flesh where the bones have bent inward. But she never flings thecorsetaway; she must get herself intoshape it she dies for it; and in spite ofside aches and head aches, she clings to hc-r tormentors. Ask her if her dress is too tight, and she will answer,' ‘Oh, no. just, see here: ’ and she will draw in her breath and pinch the waist ot it up between her fingers, but were it not for the restraining power of corsets she would not have a button left on the dress-body. I am not an old woman, but I have seen in my time young ladies crying bitterly from pain caus ed by tight-lacing, but they would not loosen one inch oi the corset-string. Oh, no! They must get themseives into shape, and after getting in shape, they must stay, or die. We American woman talk with abhorrence of the Chinese foot-torture, but is it any more re volting than our own custom of reducing the waist to absolute deformity? I blush to acknowl edge that I have been one of the class who con sidered corsets a support. But thanks to a dear friend, who lead me out of darkness into light, I am free from bondage. What does a healthy body need of a support? Let us see what the corset does. It. crowds every one of the important in ternal organs closely together. This of course gives them a downward tendency. It dwarfs the moral and intellectual nature of woman, robs her ot beauty of countenance and grace of motion, xhere need be no fear of women ever equaling man, as a worker, so long as she wears corsets; they are not strong enough, they will not live long enough. One of the greatest objections to corsets is, the pressure can be gradually increased, almost without the wearer being aware that she is draw- ing the strings closer and closer every day. Tight lacing is not the only objection. If one could wear them bo they would slip up and down, they would be stiff and thick, all the same. All the muscles of the body require to be brought into frequent exercise, or some part must suffer. Can we do it in corsets? No, we have to bend with care, sometimes not bend at all. Girls get the idea that they must get into shape by the wear ing of corsets. It is all a mistake. A corset nev- er yet gave a woman a good figure, but it has of ten spoiled many fine ones. I believe many a woman might take a new lease of life, by laying aside her corsets and never resuming them again. But the clothing must not be left to drag on the hips. I speak from experience; we should see clearer, feel stronger, have steadier nerves, when once we have attained physical freedom. An Ideal Woman. My ideal woman is frank, intelligent,, generous, energetic, gentle and tender to the heart’s core, and has a dash of romance about her. The ro mantic are ever buoyant, for so-called romantic feelings are only an evidence of the spirit’s fresh life- They do not really sink into the dry-rot of an innate existence; they do not swell the list of ■the nervous-minded, and the sordid and the mean, and the intriguing and the self-righteous. Of them are not made the slaternly or shrewish wives, the incapable or indifferent mothers the treacher ous friends, of whose existence we may hear any day on all sides They take no ungenerous advantage of simplici ty or timidity, they stand aloof from detraction— they would not willingly sully the pure, bright cur rent of their own thoughts. They may startle many around them by an honest outburst of indig nation, but they will not harbor malice, or seek to perpetuate the evil they have denounced. Above all, the romantic are strong in religious faith; for the ideas of perfection, and beneficence and beauty and goodness and truth, are most powerfully devel oped in them. Let no skeptic come near them with his cold philosophy and useless creed, that consigns “ dust to dust,” even while the living flesh might alone and well confute him by the power ot its unconquerable instincts. Those who have once tasted of the water of life at the foun tain-head are not to be dismayed by the reports of its afier-failing course amid the miry and darken ed ways of an imperfect and faithless world. Of this class were the women who, in all ages and countries, have greatly signalized themselves in true womanly ways, bearing witness before, time past and to come, that true nobility of soul, steadfastness of purpose, heroic courage and high faith, are naturally allied to tne earnest truth and the deep-rooted affection of which they spring spontaneously, amid circumstances requiring the grandest developments of individual power. If any one speaks evil of yon let your life be so virtuous that no one will believe him. detinct PRINT