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Dian in Daylight.
BY EVANGELINE.
The moon, with a troubled face, came up
From the under-world in the pale gray dawn,
And the wind that parted the eerie clouds,
Seemed from a stranger sphere withdrawn.
•
From the realms of silence the moon had come,
Pallid and pure from the mystic night,
To begin her journey across the world,
With its jarring scenes of sound and sight.
“What had the silvery queen of Night
To do,” lasted, "with the haunts of the ann T
How strange to her will arise the strife.
That she moves across ere her race be done.
The starry host by the Day ting paled.
The hum of man, for the night-bird s cry,
And the glitter of the »un,s red paths.
For the purple of night's pensive aty;
She moves afar from her dusty realm
Witn its voices sweet and dewy flowers,
How changed thro’ space her olden path,
Unveiled by midday’s garish hours.
I saw her to-day, poor rayless queen,
A white ghost gliding thro ether height
Waiting forthe Dawn.
by ibene ingk collieb.
CHAPTER L
THE MESIC LESSON.
'One, two, three, four. Why, Miss Game, I
am quite provoked. Did you not promise to
know this lesson thoroughly?’ That is all wrong.
You know better than that. See, you struck those
double flats twice in the same bar, which is in
correct. Your left hand plays the treble. It
seems useless for me to attempt teaching one
who will not aid herself. Yon have taken more
difficult pieces. Gottschalk’s • Last Hope’ you
learned readily; I will despair if you do not
play better. Commence with the first.
The yonng pupil’s face flushed. Obediently,
she made a second attempt.
‘I wish you would learn your lessons better
hereafter.’ , ... . , .
‘Miss Ennis I had a few friends to entertain
last evening, and my parents would not excuse
me from the sitting-room,’ in a piqued tone,
adding in a sans souci manner, ‘beside, after
riding two miles on horseback this balmy,
exhilarating morning, I have tossed aside
all I did know of the ‘Opera Cavitina, as
an offering to the winds.’
‘Miss Carrie I quite agree with you, as you
know nothing of your lesson. I regret yonr
parent^ do not think more of your advance
ment.’
«Ob, they do, but all must have a little recrea
tion, and last night was mine. Do not be pro
voked, Miss Eloise ?’
‘Certainly not, Miss Carrie ; I exert no paren
tal authority, and when your parent’s will
comes into juxtaposition, mine will be a lesser
light.’
•Indeed, Miss Eloise, I did try to fulfill my
promise, and thanks to your kindnesB in excu
sing me.’ ‘
‘Remember, though, I shall mark you the
next time in your grade. Now, play this opera
then • my favorite, and your time will have ex
pired. Why, it is past. Who would have
thought I had given you forty-five, minutes.
Still I have not trespassed on any one’s time. I
have a spare half hour, and will listen with
pleasure to ‘Thalberg’s Gem of Music. _ _ i
Eloise Ennis—school teacher and music mis
tress, was a lovely, medium-sized brunette of
Northern birth. Her oval face, richly tinted in
the cheeks, her broad, full forehead and curved
coral lips were less charming than the ever va
rying expression of her large, dark eyes and
noble features.
Her raven black hair slightly waving in froD*.
braided low on her neck, gave her an additional
grace.
What a look of peaceful delight flitted over
her face, but only for a moment, as tears soon
dimmed her eyes, and with quivering lips and
flushed cheeks, she placed her clasped hands
upon Carrie’s shoulders and bade her cease.
With a quick, surprised look, the player turned
in time to see Miss Ennis’ emotions, as she
bowed her bead upon her hands and leaned QQ
the piano. Carrie silently arose from the stool,
began arranging her music without speaking.
Dropping one of her gauntlets, she stooped to
regain it, and did not know Miss Eloise had
come to her side until she spoke.
‘Carrie, dear, do not feel grieved, but sad
memories revived as the bursts of harmony
from Thalberg fall in rippling melody from
your gentle touch. I never heard any hands
equal yours upon that composition.’
‘Thank you, Miss Eloise,’ pressing gently her
hand, and raising it to her lips, ‘none but these
you menu. Do you not?’
‘I only understand the science. My exe
cution can be improved a great deal. Home,
Sweet Home is an artistic piece filled with har
mony throughout.’
‘It is sad to me, Miss Eloise.’
‘I have no ‘home, sweet home,’ Carrie ; no
spot to rest my head. Only a bird of passage.’
•My dear teacher, I cannot sympathize with
your, being a wanderer. I have all that can
make one happy, yet sad thoughts will come
over us all at times, and occasionally I turn to
them for variety,but soon throw aside care. I fear
my last new song will always be at the tip of
my tongue,—‘It is better to laugh than be sigh
ing.’ Ail, Lucrtzia, you little knew at your
bachanalian revels bow many pouting lips would
utter your flashing scintillations of bubbling
Champagne. I have tired you with nonsense,
but, positively, I am the bearer of glad tidings ;
I have a great notion not to tell you lor scolding
so.’ .
Eloise’s face had brightened—
‘Oh, tell me Carrie, for anything that is good
must be cheering.’
‘The pic-nic is on next Saturday. Will you
honor us with your smiling face?’
‘Ah, so it is really to come eff cn Saturday?
‘1 began to guess it a myth,’ retorted Eloise
provokiugly.
•Yes, as i remarked previously, and now you
really must ccme,’ tying on her hat, and hold
ing her music preparatory to starting. ‘By the
way, Carrie, tell me what is «the most suitable
attire tor a pic-nic ? My northern wardrobe
may not be appropriate. We never have a pic
nic until June or mid-summer. How all at
home would enjoy my telling of an April or
May pic-nic, when they cannot, leave a lire. Tell
me pray what to wear?’
‘Most any wash material ; gingham, linen-
lawn and inursailles, are what we girls generally
don. Rambling through the woods you get torn
and soiled.’
‘Linen lawns?’
•Yes, my dress is lawn. I told mother to have
the lace fluted at my neck and wrists and bright
ened up with a pic-nic ribbon. I will feel like
simplicity in her best robe.’
‘YoUr smiling face neads no aid from orna
ment.’
‘Hush, flatterer. Cannot you come, Miss
Eloise.’
‘I presume I can arrange to find something,
jf so, I will be on hand. This is Thursday.’
‘Do not be a Flora McFlimsey, and let dress
debar us from the most attractive feature of the
day. Yes, this is Thursday, iny last lesson this
week. Miss Eloise come and stay Friday night
with me ?’
‘I cannot, Carrie, but will be out on Satur-
day.”
You have promised. I shall wait for you.
'Very well. Hear that bell calling me to hear
mathematical recitation. I wonder if those girls
are as illy prepared as my favorite pupil was
this morning ?’ , _
•Ha, ha! I hope not, if they knew as well as
I what a glance from ‘those dark eyes of thine^
meant, they would shame the trembling aspen,
looking laughingly at her teacher, and blushing
that she did not know her lesson.
‘Well may you blush, but I must leave you,
Carrie, or Miss Albers will tell you that I am
remiss in my daily, hum-drum duties.
•Good-bye ‘queen of the ferule wish you a
scolding for mine.’ . ,
•Bye-bye,’ kissing her hand to Carrie, who
was walking down the serpentine drive, look
ing for her groom. . ..
She leaned over the gate gazing down the
street, and pulling on her glove.
'i6 mounted her horse, she told the servant
on she had a call to make at the store,
\ ait in the suburbs of the town. .
young mislus ; but Marse Bob gin dis
oiu uarkey ’ticlar obstructions not to let you
gittin outen my sight.’
‘Oh, never mind John, nothing will harm me.
I will not be long in town.’
‘Young Miss, never tell on me' 1
•No, John, . Here, take this music, and
do not lose any ; be careful, please.’
‘In course, I will young Mistus.’
‘John, John ! Call by the post-offioe and get
the mail if brother has not.’ But John was out
of hearing. So, turning her horse’s head in
that direction, she rode rapidly on, musing the
while if Fred would see her.
She looked wistfully on each side and down
the streets.
•He knows it is my lesson day.’
Lovely Carrie Farmer, while on her favorite
Maidee, (in her most becoming habit, let me in
troduce to the reader. A sixteen year old
Miss, the daughter of an old aristocratic fami
ly of two girls and three boys. Tall for her age,
symmetrically formed, her bead crowned with
shining brown hair, which hung in heavy ring
lets, a lily complexion, where each tiny blue
vein showed in faint tracery, under the
delicate colouer de rose, that flushed her cheeks.
Her eyes, in which lay her chief beauty, were a
laughing, mischievous brown. She was intel
lectual, refined, and her every movement showed
very perceptibly her pure blood. She had the air
of a queen ; her black habit fitted closely, and
her jaunty little cap carried you back to those
grand old hills of Scotland, which Di Vernon
made re-echo with her flying steeds. Filling
her trifling commission at the store, she rode
directly to the post-office.
‘Miss Carrie! Miss Carrie, Btop a moment.
Good-morning.’
‘Good-morning, Mr. Denman.’
‘I am hoarse from calling you.’
‘Sorry I caused such an exertion. Will you
please ask at the office for my mail ?’
‘Certainly,’ entering the office, he quickly re
turned. ‘Your brother has boen for the maiL’
‘Thank you.’
‘You are looking charming this morning.’
‘That is a dubious compliment, Mr Denman,
the same as telling a yonng lady she does net
always look well, but you 'lords of creation’ are
flatterers. I must bid you good-morning.’
‘I will be on hand quite soon, Saturday morn
ing. You will go with me, Miss Carrie, as you
promised ? I have the gayest little ‘turnout’
you ever beheld.
‘I admire horses and fancy trappings, and
will be most happy to acoompany you, but real
ly, you should know I have a perfect abhor-
ance to that word ‘soon.’ I always think of
rosy-fingered Aurora kissing the tips of OHr
hills, and the ‘God of day’ pushed up while
his face is still in a haze, not having had time
to bathe it with the dew. ’
‘Bravo! Miss Carrie, I shall not be out ‘soon*
if it disturbs you.’
‘Oh Fred! please ask Miss Carrie to call by
the Institute and deliver these letters to Miss
Ennis,’ called the post master to Mr. Denman.
‘Excuse me, Miss Carrie,’ he walked to get
the letters, returning, delivered the letters and
taking the little hand of Carrie to bid her good
bye, he felt it tremble, whispered something
that sent little flecks of carmine over her face,
and said aloud, inquisitively:
‘I declare, Miss Carrie, your favorite teacher
has always quite a batch of letters. She is never
disappointed, is she ?'
‘I don’t think she is, provided her letters
bring glad tidings; but allow me to thank you
in her name and I will hasten to deliver them.
Ah! that I possessed the fleetness of Atalanta;
not even a golden apple plucked from the gar
den so famed, would deter me from reaching
her side.'
‘You are peculiarly gifted this morning in
your use of language. Is not astonishment de
picted here?’ laughingly touching his face.
‘Glad I do amaze you, young man. It is my
idiosyncrasy; no it is genius, Mr. Denman. Do
not confound the two words, but good-morn-
ing.’
‘Good-morning, Miss Carrie, remember ‘soon
Saturday.’
Gladdening hearts seemed to be her favor
ite forte, and during her ride back to the in
stitute she imagined her teacher’s lace brighten
ing as she gave her the package. She was silently
meditating and did not see her brother till his
calling to her made her turn around.
‘Carrie, where in the world are you riding
to, at such break-neck speed ?’
‘Oh, brother Sidney, is that you ? I was go
ing to oblige the post master by delivering Miss
Eloise her letters.’
‘Well, little sister, here are some for you and
‘I am glad. If I could bounce off with safety,
I would give you a kiss.’
‘Never mind risking head and body, wait
until we are on equal footing; take care of your
self and hurry home.’
‘She rode on to the school building. Not
glancing at her own letters, she placed them in
her safety pocket,as she nick-named a large,deep
pocket in her riding habit. She held Eloise’s
in b.er hand, rode up to the door steps, and
calling one of the little ones playing in the yard,
told her to ask Miss Eloise to come to the door.
Thanking Carrie and glancing at her letters,
one especially caused the rosy tints rapidly to
recede, whilst a paleness immediately suffused
that sad though beautiful face.
Carrie again insisted that she would spend
Friday night with her.
‘I cannot, but will come Saturday, early. My
compositions have to be corrected. Wait for
me Saturday.’
‘Yes. I will not tarry longer.’
TurniDg her horse’s heard homeward she
soon found John who was waiting just out of
town.
‘Mistis you staid the day oat. Ise hear’n all
the horns around blowing for dinner.’
‘Well John, we will soon be home,’ and giv
ing Maide the reins, she galloped swiftly home,
wondering why Miss Eloise seemed so sad
and excited when she glanced at that one letter.
‘Perhaps it contained unwelcome news, but
why that paleness ? Well, ‘every heart knoweth
its own bitterness.’
CHAPTER II.
THE VILLIAGE.
Up and down, up and down over rocky hills,
covered with moss %nd evergreens.
Huge boulders are lying in the winding
path that lies white and rocky in the green.
Majestic trees with their gorgeous foliage
concealing from the eye those gaunt limbs that
had been stiff and frozen daring the winter.
This qaiet little village of A,—bounded on
all sides by these upheavals, nestled like *
gem in the valley hidden away from inquisitive
idle gazers. Adown its sides, revelling in free
dom, were dancing laughing brooklets, which
seemed to emanate from a lasting spring,
among the mountains, bursting,occasionally into
minature cascades that threw silvery spray far
up as they fell upon’ the rocks below. A wide
stream, formed from these many lillipntian
brooklets passes almost througn the town.
Its cool shady banks, clear, sparkling water,
with now and then a ripple of waves caused by
the fish as they gambol through its waters un
disturbed with fly hooks torturing them with
pain.
Tall, dark pines, cedars, live oaks, and
swamp willows let the cool breezes float through
their dark green leaves to the village beyond.
Tall rank grasses and • white water lillies
breathe quietly upon the bank of this stream,
and nod and bend in time with the rustling
leaves.
This stream is the pride of the village school,
and hardy youths occasionally ruffle the
even surface of the water wading through its
limpid tides.
The main part of the town is a complete
square. Centering this square is the court house
from whence justice radiates, and branching off
are four wide streets.
The village of A is situated in the midst
of the most thriving portion of the State of
M , which conveys the idea that the High
Day is daily celebrated in all its pomp and
glory.
The village of about three thousand inhabit
ants, is settled principally by the aristocratic
emigrants from Virginiaand the Oarolinas,which
give tone to the society. L^nes of demark-
ation are drawn like the laws ?’f the Medes and
Persians, and no intruder dare overstep them.
Merit, not money, was the janitor that opened
the gate to the refined.
Many handsome residences bordered each
side of these spaoious streets.
A large building upon the first street leaving
the front of the court house is known as the In
stitute. Three story brick walls, airy rooms,
and a colonade of stone comprise the building.
It has shady acres, cedar drives and cedar
walks, its splashing fountains bathing the limbs
of a lovely Venus in a flood of dazzling clearness.
Beds of early spring flowers that fill the
yard, give a picture of enchanting beauty. Two
serpentine drives lead from the gate to the house,
lined with evergreens trimmed like huge col
ossal sugar loafs.
Beside the Institute is a little low brick office
known as the Bank, dark red painted, with heavy
iron shutters. No vines are twining their soft,
tender shoots through the bars of iron at its
two windows to dispel the seeming loneliness of
this important place. • .
One would not imagine it wni the home of that
handsome young man standing in the doorway.
I trust that it is not possible that his smiling
face hides a gloomy and forbidding disposi
tion. He is above ordinary height, truly
masculine looking, broad, shoulders and
rather inclined to obesity than otherwise ;
piercing gray eyes, as cold looking as steel,
black hair, face very pale relieved somewhat
by contrast from his heavy beard ; fascinating
and popular, a welcome visitor to the hospit
able homes of the village of A—— is Eugene
Bertram.
But while your eye is resting upon the vil
lage and the handsome Adonis, let ns tread the
thorny path of a dear yonng girl’s life, and see
how a Northern flower was transplanted to
sonthern soil.
Eloise Ennis when quite a child was bereft of
her parents by the touch of death, leaving two
little outcasts to buffet the current of life, with
no bony, only a watchful providence. A brother
•was two years her senior jAncj in his efforts
to eke out a subsistence for ja*> tw'j, he found a
good Sam nr 5 tan ! n the l*»sy , bit) v* New York
City. A prominent merchant opfenad his heart
and gave,them a living father’s care. Mr. Clives
had only a wife to enliven his brown stone front.
Usually the boy is preferred, but in this in
stance Mr. Clives gave Charlie’s sister educa
tional advantages with all the showy accomplish
ments, intending when she was grown to give
a home, with Charlie as his partner.
Though a life of ease and pleasure could
have been hers, she most strenuously refused
and in opposition to both her brother and Mr.
Cilves wishes, determined to become a teacher,
and put to use her well cultivated mind.
She advertised in the early part of the sum
mer and also wrote to some of her teachers and
stated her case. Soon a letter from Miss Albers
reached her, quite favorable for her, telling that
death Had left one vacant chair,'which she could
fill the coming sesion.
She came and had been teaching two years.
Her letters home were full of enthusiastic ad
miration for the South. She was sure the balmy
southern climate suited her exactly. She was
acclimated, and well contented, had made many
warm friends, and seemed to be popular.
The package, and especially one letter which
was handed Eloise by Carrie lanan was from
her brother, and she knew almost what it con
tained, and dreaded to break the seal.
But why did a shade of fright and marble
whiteness blanch her cheek, as she glanced at
its contents? She was silent and meditative
during her classes, and welcomed eagerly the
quiet of her room at the expiration of her daily
work. Alone in that solitary room she burst
into a flood of unconquerable tears and ex
claiming:
‘ Oh my holy protectress why cannot I be
spared ! Why cannot I have p Jace. Why can
he not wait another year till—till—oh Niobe why
did you teach us to weep so many tears ?
My heart will break if my brother comes. Ah
must I keep my promise ? Cannot a vow be
broken ? No, no ! not when with my hand on
the sacred volume, and my lip3 kissing the cross.
I made so solemn a vow. Can I not in sack
cloth and ashes repent of the rash act. No,
there is no alternative but to live in misery, I
cannot break it.
‘It is my portion to drink deeper of the dregs
of humility. May it soon be over. ‘Not my
will but thine, O God, be done ! Holy mother,
pray for me now, and in the hour ot my death.’
Kissing the Crucifix with streaming eyes and
quivering lips, she seemed completely over
powered with emotion. Drawing forth her
rosary she prayed long and silently ^ for holy
protection and guidance; and with the moon-
beans kissing her tear-stained face, peace and
calmness swept over it, and lower and lower
bends her head; her baud fell heavily from the
beads. A rustling of the letter in her lap made
her whole frame sway like a broken reed, and
rising she paced the floor and wrung her hands
wildly and passionately; then throwing hersell
upon the bed, her shuddering frame and con
vulsive sobs came thick and fast. How long
she lay exhausted, she knew not, until through
the opened window came the mild sunbeams
and the dew-drops upon her pots of flowers on
the window ledge glistened like diamonds.
A peal from below told her breakfast wa3
ready. Quickly coiling her hair and bathing
her face, whose temples were throbbing with
a dull pain, she descended the stairs to the table;
all were there, as she entered, looking so pale
and langnid, not smiling as was her wont.
Miss Abets addressed her after the saluta
tion:
•Eloise, you are late; I heard you pacing the
floor until late; I came near going up to see if
you were ill. Were you ?’
• My head was aching intensely, and I could
not rest’
‘ A bad treatment for sick headache; you ought
to be as qaiet as possible. I can spare you from
the schoolroom to-day, if your head is no
better.’
‘Noll had rather teach than not, and reviews
are no trouble; my class are good for remember
ing what they have learned.’
‘ Better than mine. You know of the^pic-nic
and our school coronation on Saturday ?’ >
• Yes, Carrie Farmer told me on yesterday.
‘The girls will not do any good to-day.’
All at the table, who were boarders from a
distance, promised to be quiet and studious.’ ^
‘Every one cannot do as she promises,’
replied Eloise to the girls, rising to leave.
‘ Eloise, if yon look in my dressing case as
you go through the room, you will find a note
I received yesterday for you, and forgot all
about it; fixing up lunches for Saturday has
worried me so much.’
• Thank you, I will get it.’
All day long Eloise thought of how to break
the news to Eugene Bertram; at last, night came,
and still it worried her. She had no quiet after
she went to her room, for the girls could not go
to sleep, and were running to her room to tell
her how they would dress on the morrow.
After the whole building was quiet, one worn,
wearied watcher, for a time lay dreaming of
what her life should have been, until finally her
gentle breathing told she was Bleeping.
Upon the small table lay compositions pre
pared for the young ladies. Two slates and
books, opened where the pencil lay, showed her
last act before she had lain her weary head to
rest. , , .
A tempest-tossed woman, no beaoon light
shining in the distance to guide her life-boat
from the dangerous reefs. No ‘ inchcape bell ’
to toll out upon the still night air.
stranded there.
She had placed her life in a higher power,
and there will be sometimes in the distant
future, a most glorious morn for her; but we
must wait, not grasp at the mirage that seems
to lure us on.
TO BE CONTINUED.
Thoughts on the Proposed “Sunday
Laws.”
see doctrine is both engenius and beautiful,
and rises in the. following order: 1. He jus
tified the conduct of his attendents from an
exceptional case—that of David when he was
hungry ; hunger being a very great incentive to
action ; 2. He justified their conduct from the
prevailing custom of profaning the Sabbath (in
Us outward sense) by the preparation of sacri
fices in the Temple ; 3. He justified their con-
nuct from the design of the Sabb-th ; that is,
from the fact that it was made for man, not man
for it; and, in the fourth place, he justified
their conduct from the nature of his own char
acter and office as High Priest direct from the
very God whom his critics professed to worship.
There are now, as then, men whose piety is
purely of an external nature, and who are strict
constructionists in all matters pertaining to the
observance of the Sabbath ; aud what is not a
little surprising, they are professed followers of
Him who said ‘the Sabbath was made for man,
not man for the Sabbath.’ There is now being
made, in many cities of the United States, an ef
fort to convert men into saints by legislating on
the ‘Sunday question.’ The observance of the
Sabbath is very properly enjoined by the mu
nicipal law of most civilized and Christian coun
tries ; and aside from the reiigous aspects of the
case, the injunction is eminently wise and prop
er. It is a wise measure, viewed only in the
light of political economy. It is right and prop
er that people should observe one day in seven,
whether from the higher law of conscience and
revelation, or from what experience has abso
lutely shown to be a necessary municipal regu
lation. But there is great danger, as we con
ceive, of running into that species of Phariseeism
on this point, which results from a narrow con
struction of the Decalogue, or from that selfish
and non-Christian spirit of certain Churchmen
who seek every opportunity to increase their
own consideration among men.
Legislators can, under our system of govern
ment, deal with the Sabbath only as a civic in
stitution ; and thelogians and Christian minis
ters make, as we think, a very great departure
from the precepts and example of their Great
Exemplar when they attempt to direct the aim
of the civil magistrate, or to incorporate theii
construction of the Decalogue into the fundi-
mental or statutory law of the land. W. L. S.
The Pharisees were among the most ancient
and honorable, as also the most numerous and
learned, of all the sects of the old Jewish
Church. Their name is derived from the
Hebrew, signifying Partition or Separation
and they were, in point of fact, separated from
the other Israelites by a more strict manner of
life, of which they made great ostentation. They
made a great show of religion in outward things;
but were proverbially proud, covetous, unj ust,
uncharitable, superstitious and hypocritical.
They were ritualists and formalists to a degree
bordering on the ludicrous. They wore long
rolls of parchment on their foreheads and wrists,
on which were written certain words and sen
tences of the law; and they also affected singu
larity by wearing fringes and borders at the
corners and hems of their garments broader
than worn by the other Jews. In all matters of
religion, they studied and accepted the tradi-
ditions of the ancients; and to these traditions
they were often accused of making additions of
their own, thus substituting their own opinions
for the “traditions of the elders” whom they
professed to follow.
In this manner, they had repudiated and
and overthrown certain sections of the Decalo
gue, and substituted a myriad of trifling obser
vances that were sometimes as disgustingly
hypocritioal as they were superfluous and in
convenient.
They believed in the immortality of the soul,
and acknowledged the existence of angels and
spirits. They believe.! likewise in the traus-
migifejtion of runls; and that thes pirits of good
men might pass from one body to another, as
in their opinion, was often the case; whilst the
souls of wicked men were condemned to dwell
forever in prisons of darkness. We can readily
understand therefore why this sect desired to
know of Jesus whether he was not Elias or some
one of the old prophets; that ifi,. whether the
soul of one of those great men had not passed
into his human body. And they furthermore
believed, in a vague and undefined way, in the
final Resurrection (Anastasis) of the dead, as
against the Sadducees who rejected this belief.
But they had particularly refined upon the
observance of the Sabbath. It was one of the
essential hobbies of their external religion.
They maintained that, upon that day, it was not
so muoh as allowable to heal the sick, even
when this could be done by a mere word spoken;
and were, therefore, terribly scandalised be
cause, on a certain occasion, a man carried away
his bed on the Sabbath day, after he had been
cured of a most loathsome malady.
Eutertaiug such views, we can readily under
stand how it was that the religious sense of this
powerful sect was so frequently outraged by the
Great Founder of the Christian Church ; for
perhaps in no character did He appear to them
more offensive than as a Sabbath breaker. Some
of the most animated discussions, between Him
and the Pharisee doctors, recorded in the Gos
pels, originated at this very point. One in
stance is particularly noted. We refer to the
plucking and eating of the ears of corn, and to
the healing of the man with the withered hand,
on the Sabbath. By the laws of the old Jewish
Theocracy (Deut. xxiii), persons who should
come “into the standing corn” of the neighbor
might pluck the ears thereof “ with their
hands” and eat, though they might not “ move
a sickel into it.” Tne act of plucking and
eating the ears of corn, in passing through
the standing grain of another, was, there
fore, an act lawful in itself. But the same
laws enjoined the most rigid observance ot the
Sabbath day. So rigid was this injunction
(Ex. xx.), that not “any work’J could be done
on that day ; and, as the plucking and eating,
recorded in Luke’s gospel (ch. vi,) was (accord
ing to the Phariseeic construction), “work, it
was, for that reason, a flagrant violation of the
Sunday laws. . ,
This act of the ‘descibles’ was justified. t>y
their teacher under a precedent recorded ot one
of the most eminent of the Jewish kings, lia-
vid had not only done an act unlawful in itself,
but did it on the Sabbath day. He had eaten
the bread from the holy alter, and gave ot the
same to his attendants. To make the matter
worse, he, at the time of this occurrance, we s
a fugitive and a liar. In his flight from . bls
sovereign, he came to Nob to consult Abime-
lech the priest; and be falsely represented that
he was on a secret and confidential mission
from the very sovereign before whom he was
fleeing. It was solely upon the faith of these
false representations th it he obtained and eat
the ‘shew bread’ which was lawful only lor
the priests. . . ... .. ,
The argument, therefore, in justification of
the alleged violation of the Sundy laws by the
desciples, and addressed to the Pharisee doc
tors, was in this wise: ‘You recognize the bind
ing obligation of the precedents recorded in
the Old Testament. You also recognize David
as one of the most gifted and upright of all the
Jewish kings. Yon do not arraign him for eat
ing the shew bread, notwithstanding the fact,
that, by your law, the act was not only unlaw
ful in itself, but likewise, according to your
theory, unlawful because done on the Sabbath
day. Then why do you condemn these follow
ers of mine for doing on the Sabbath an act law
ful in itself, and lawful also on the Sabbath day,
if we accept the precedents which you, your
selves, recognize? .
The whole argament in refutation of the Phari-
Miss Marie Anne Sniythe Solili-
quizes.
How my heart did rejoice when I read those
articles in the papers in favor of female clerks.
There, said I, is the very position I’d like; I
think I’d make a good saleswoman, aud can add
figures, and know my multiplication table.
I’ve tried school teaching, or at least, I tried to
get scholars sufficient to warrant opening a
school, but met with such poor encouragement,
every one to whom I applied, hoping (with a
bland smile) that I would succeed, and praising
me for endeavoring to earn my own living; but
at the same time preferred a male teacher, as a
young girl would be apt to lack the firmness
necessary to govern a school. So my efforts in
that direction failed.
Next, I tried my needle, and I did my
work well, but not being very expert, I man
aged to keep myself supplied with machine oil
and needles with the profits of my labor. Too
much competition, and too little pay. So I
found the word/ctii iu capital letters in my dic
tionary the second time. But “where there's a
will there’s a way," and I watched eagerly for
my opportunity. I thought how nice it would
be to earn some money myself, and not be snch
a burden to poor papa “these hard times;” that
I would not be a drone if I could help it, but
would work willingly and gladly, if I could find
the work to do. At last my chance came; a
friend, daring a cull, casually remarked that
Mr. Blank had resc'.ved to try feraalo clerks,
and as his was a large dry goods house, I
thought I’d try for a clerkship. I hurried to
the proprietor lest I should lose the situation,
and was wild with joy when he told me to come
early Monday morning. I felt as if somebody
bad left me a fortune, and visions of greenbacks
(like happiness in the sailor boy’s dream)
danced o’er my mind. Oh ! how many air
castles did I build while impatiently waiting
for the longed for Monday. In my imagina
tion, by steady attention to business, and polite
ness to customers, I already was promoted to
head clerk. But, alas ! after two months’ trial,
a “change has come over the spirit of my
dream.” Instead of meeting with encourage
ment and cheering words when I most expected
them (from my own sex) I received cool nod§
of recognition and averted looks. My dearest
friend, Sophronia Shoddy, who declared she
could not exist a week away from her own dear
Marie, now finds it possible to live very com
fortably a whole month without ever inquiring
after my welfare. To-night, as I sit here alone,
meditating, she is entertaining her “dear five
hundred friends” with a splendid ball, and but
two months ago we together planned the dresses
we should wear, and I was to be an honored
guest, yet I am forgotten, and she has another
dearest friend.”
The fact is, women will not help each other,
they are afraid of losing caste. They will not
even act justly, for while they ignore me, be
cause I am a shop girl, yet they will stand chat
ting gaily with the elegant Augustus Fitznoodle,
who earns his living behind a counter. Now,
where’s the difference? If I fill the position
and thus maintain myself, should I be frowned
out of society for it ? If a man shows a dis
position to work, he sometimes finds helping
hands ; a woman never does, and her own sex i3
to blame for it. They seem to think idleness
and uselessness passports to society, that gentil
ity must be maintained at any cost, and should
a woman try to aid herself by labor, she certain
ly must be crazy or strong minded, and is
shunned accordingly.
But, I had begun to be reconciled to the short
memory of my friends, when the “nnkindest
cut” of all came. A very business looking en
velope (so different from those dainty, per
fumed cream colored missives), bearing my ad
dress was banded me. Just to think of it. It
was from that dear, verdant Green, who vowed
not six months ago, that naught but death
should part us, that life without my bright smile
would be a dreary desert. I was bis life, his
star, his hope, his love, the realization of all
his dreams ; yet he coolly informed me that he
could never marry a shop girl, and would I
please return notes and ring ? And now he is
paying his devotions to my once dearest Sophro
nia. (I do wonder if his moustache has grown
any). However, I don’t think I’ll not break my
heart for him, he is not worth a sigh, let alone
a broken heart, so good by verdant Green.
But I’ll sleep late in the morning, if I sit up
much later, and it is opening day, and I must
be there early. One thing certain, those that
don’t wish to recognize me, need not do it, for
I intend to be a clerk just so long as I can please
my employer, regardless of sneers and frowns,
■Betsey Tbotwood.
A sunshade composed entirely of pansies with
a solid gold handle, is a novelty exhibited in a
New York jeweler’s window.
A lady in Texas saw an advertisement in a
New York paper of an opium cure. She sent
for it, and died in convulsions in less than an
hour. The New York physician has been ar
rested.
Engineers have just examined ten thousand
aor.es of paririe land, heretofore considered
worthless, in St. Mary’s and Terrebonne parish
es, Louisiana, and report the land reclaimable. (
.The experiment will be tried.