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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up From the under-world in the pale gray dawn, And the wind that parted the eerie clouds, Seemed from a stranger sphere withdrawn.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.