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WAS LOVED ONCE. BY GUILLAMO. But once in all my youth The flower ofHeaven one single bud enchanted Unclosed for me, yet still my soul is haunted By visions starry, melodies divine, Fancies so rare I scarce can cal! them mine. From its immortal fragrance springing And what care I forsooth Thn\ life’s fierce thorns have long since to me clung— . That hope's death-shriek within my brain has rung— That fate a Banshee song for me is singing, When from my perished youth Remains this cherished truth. And, Lord, who should repine. When this sweet gift of thine— Gift deathless and divine, Even 1 could claim as mine. Mad all Her Days. By MRS. AMELIA V. PURDY. CHAPTER VIII. It is early candle light and V ale is trimming hats by the centre table. Bertie lies asleep on the floor and the bright lire makes the room cosv and comfortable. She is singing softly as she* works and the rounded contour of her hap py, care-free girlhood is again h«rs and her cheeks have the delicate color of the heart of a sea-shell. She is lovely to look upon in her dark bine merino with soft ruches of ‘footing’ at the wrists and throat. The beautilnl hair is coiled on the top of the perfect head but curls stray out here and there and cluster about the forehead alive with thought. Over the snow of the daintily small hands stream the scarlet ribbon she is Rtiching on the hats. She hears a step and looks up, rises but changes her mind and only nods to Mrs. Horton who comes in ghastly and abstracted as usual and takes the rocking chair and draws it close to the tender. Vale glances at her furtively, sighs and works on. Presently Mrs. Horton observes: •Vale, this wHl be a terrible night on the poor —the thermometer is 12 degrees below zero and falling.' , A . , , Vale rises, tosses the bonnet on the table and disencumbers her visitor of her hat and veil, shivering as her hands come in contact with the hands that are hot as tire. ‘Mrs. Horton, let me bring you a cup of tea, you need it,'she says positively p.s Salome shakes her head, and she goes to the dining room and returns with it and makes her drink it. Salome gazes at her with such a world of love and ad miration in the eyes that are sunken and lustre less; then she says: ‘It is a year since I left him and in all that time you have not asked me a question. Vale, yon are one woman among a million. Dear, I would have confided in you had my confidence in no wise affected another anti in my case to re veal my secrets would necessarily have involved the betrayal of another. I am going away and I have brought you a little gift which you are to wear in remembranee of the dull woman who never entered your bright household without giving you pain. It was my mother’s brooch and I never could bear to part with it.’ She pinned it in the soft lace at Vale’s throat and went back to her seat. It was an opal clus ter, the central stone of perhaps four carats, each stone encircled with tiny but exceedingly brilliant diamond points. Vale caught the fe verish hnnds and asked: f Are you going far, Salome. ’ She smiles down upon her fairy-like ques tioner. - • very tar dear—solar that the distance has never been computed.’ Vale drops her bright faco quite down to the table and there is dead silence. Presently she looks up and the tears stream down her cheeks. ‘Is there no hope ?’ ‘None.’ The brave tones do not falter. I was examined to-day. Dr. Thayer warned me that agitation would cause death and yet I must see him to-night; I have business to arrange and a request to make. \ale, don t cry, why should you want to keep me where I am so miserable.’ ‘But sometimes you might be reunited to Mr. Horton and be happy again,’ Vale falters through her tears. •Impossible,’ she replies with stony emphasis. ‘If I lived a hundred years I would not return to him.’ . . , . She throws her arms about her grieving friend, kisses her, and when Vale saw her again she lay in a satin-lined casket, An hour later, Camber, in a fnr-lined overcoat walks homeward- It is a terrible night, albeit the stars are countless in the dark blue of the skies, and there is not the slightest breeze. A night that suggests the poems of a certain poet we wnt of, that this country honors, beautiful, cold, clear and hard as Lignum Vitre, and soulless, because the strong pulse of suffering humanity is unfamil iar to him, deaf by decades of luxury, deaf to woe, sorrow, trouble, death and the countless ills of life, because prosperity and friends and adulation have been his since birth, and in no wise superior to the delicate, refined, tender, humane singers of the land of the mocking bird and the orange only that the one people are prompt to strew flowers and to magnify and fos ter, the other are slow to applaud. A woman passes him slowly and with uncertain steps. He recognizes her and follows her. She has neither shawl nor cloak about her and her lace gieams white in the darkness. She steps into a doorway and waits. Camber steps into the ad joining doorway and waits also. Two doors be low, Horton’s splendid house nprears, and through the stained glass doors of the vestibule light streams out on the snow. Mr. Horton de lights in illumination and the front ol the man sion is in a blaze of light. Perhaps the dark, is fearful to corrupt consciences, moreover with a slight stretch of the imagination it can be peo pled with unpleasant visitors, and in the strong light, ghost has not yet been visible to mortal eyes. Enpassant, when the wild eyed medium can call up at will, in the daylight spirits ot In dians and tfie spirits of Demosthents, (he seems to be a prime favorite with the deranged sister hood) we intend to become a spiritualist,but not till then and the spirit thus evoked, must not wear silk dresses and we object to its possess ing blood, bones or speech—it must be .the shadow of a substance only, so that when we clasp it, our hands will only cut through air, which uniting again will form the spectre In dian with his Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum look and his scalps at his girdle. Whistling cheerily Hor ton comes down the steps and his wife glides from the doorway and stops him with a simple ‘ Wait a moment, Mr. Horton.’ ‘Salome? My God ! what do you mean by coming here such a night as this.’ Camber crouches down by the stoop and lis tens. He desires to fiave his suspicions con firmed and cares not how he obtains the infor mation. ‘There is no hot or cold to the troubled or the poor,’ she replies, ‘ but I will not detain you long. I am going away and I wish you to turn over the twenty thousand dollars yen offered me a month back to Mr. Camber. I want it put out at interest, tho interest to be devoted to the sup port of delicate well-raised widows who are not able to work; will yon so instruct him ?’ ‘ I will,’ very coldly, then angrily, * I dare yon leave this town. Where ever you go I will follow you. Don’t you know you will get your death standing there without a shawl.’ He ttakes off' his fur lined cape and put" t . . I ber shoulders still angry of speech and face. How little he understood women. Had he tak en her in his arms, tenderly and lovingly, strong as she was. he had conquered. ‘ May I ask how far you are going and how long yon will be absent.’ She wonders why he cannot hear the sonor ous beats of her heart, the pain of which pulsa tions whiten her lips. ‘God never made a crueler woman than you are,’ he continued. ‘ I loved you so well that if yon left the room half an hour you took all the sunshine with you. When our children were born I nursed you because I would not trust any hireling with the life that was so inestima bly precious to me. In the five years of our wedded life I never gave you a cross word, and because I would not change the black of my eyes to blue, yon left me. Since the world was made no woman ever left a man before for such a cause.’ She raised her hand impressively. ‘If I—demanding truth and honesty from yon, demanded the impossible, I pray God to forgive me. If it were as easy for you to change your black eyes to blue as to change your moral nature, I ask you to forgive me and God will hold you guiltless. For the times, I have been selfish and ungrateful and remiss in my wifely duty, I crave your pardon, and when I am gone, try to think kindly of me, and remember only my good qualities. Will you try to do this ?' ‘ No,’he answered, excitedly. ‘I curse the day I ever saw you—the day you were born, I wish yon had never crossed my path. Yon have made my life a hell, men and women who had faith in me lost it when you left m~. But if you will come back I will forgive you for sowing my hair thick with gray and breaking my heart.’ ‘It is too late,’ she says wearily. ‘Edgar! marry again and be happy, and I pray God to give you a new heart and to bless you, and the woman you will marry, and your children and children’s children.’ How deliciously cool the air is as it strikes her Hot head and feverish temper, while the lan cet pains at her heart grow fiercer and fiercer. ‘You will not come then ?’ Horton asks, and his voice indicates that he is crying. She hesi tates a moment and then says: ‘Yes; I have changed my mind, I will go to your house in the morning.’ He clasps her in his arms and kisses her and pleads with her not to wait until morning, and finding her resolute and half fearful that she will alter her mind he sees her to the door of Mrs. Langley's and returns home. At half past two a. m., Camber is on his way home from the Masonic Lodge and passes Hor ton’s. On his steps sits a woman and the bright moon-light never bathed a more exquisite face. Camber goes up and lifts one of the small hands. It is icy cold, he places his hand on the low temples around which the golden tendrils cling and then he lifts the inanimate form and rings the bell furiously. Horton had seen too dis turbed in mind to sleep and opens the door. Camber says simply: ‘ Mrs. Horton has come home as she said. Horton, God knows I pity you. She has been suffering terribly with heart disease for months, I presume you know, and the agitation ol your interview last night caused her death.’ He laid her down on the sofa and added: ‘I too loved her, and I have never concealed it. Now and then in centuries, women like her are born to show ns what a divine thing a wo man can be, but it they were the rule instead of the exception, there would be no need for preachers, for each home would be a temple dedicated to God.’ Horton does not hear him. He is absorbed in his own sufferings, in his own sense of loss and disappointment. -.The funeral is largelv attended and rr^-yr-v i is pityingly spoken of jver the great city and mothers who have daughters to marry are loud in their sympathy and young ladies who ‘paddle their own canoe,’ so to speak, look their sympathy from behind the face-beautifying black dotted veils and send him flowers after the funeral and do everything they can to miti gate the severity of its symptons. ‘ Does he or she take it hard,’ is asked after every funeral, and respect for the mourner is graded accord ingly. Here and there a cynic will suspect loud manifestations of grief, but all united in declaring that Mr. Horton, while avoiding on the one hand stoicism, had also steered clear of hysterics, and yet the pallor of his handsome, ruddy face, the haggard eyes and pained look across the brows proclaimed sorrow enough. He believed that she had finally relented when death struck her down and when he thought of the happy years that united, they would have spent together it was grief at his own great loss that sent the hot tears to his eyes. Ho was mis taken. If well, she would never have made the promise to return and feeling the lancet pains growing worse and worse and mindful of the doctor's warning, she had staggered to his steps. S •, when, Camber looked upon her, with her bright hair all unbound, he thought again of Ibe gentle ‘Elaine,’ who had died for love of the base friend of the pearl-souled King Arthur, knowing not his stain, then memory reverted to the evening of the Bal Masque when she had first met the man whose dishonest nature had caused her death. From the pure white, peace ful face his eyes wandered to the bowed man in the corner, overcome with his sense of loss and disappointment, with genuine pity in his heart. When the sods were cast upon the coffin, Cam ber went home and to bed and Yale did not see him again lor a week. Who ever is rational in eith er love or grief, is profound in philosophy or characterized by insensibility which is the re verse of an honor. Then he drops in as of yore, graver and sadder; but time is a sure anaes thetic and in a few months he is himself again. (TO BE CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK.) Sketches of Southern Literature. THE PAST ANl> PRESENT. NO* te* Southern Writeifc and Authors. By JUDGE WILLIAM kRCIIER COCKE, of FlorW . Author of thf. Constitutional Bistory 0 f the United States and Common and |ii’i7 Law in the United States. How to Organize Book Clubs in villages. The great want experienced by cultured men and women in a small town is of books, periodi cals, etc., which, individually, they are not able to buy. There are very few circulating libraries in American towns of a population less than ten thousand. This want can be obviated in a measure, by a friendly combination between certain families or individuals, in which each contributes a given number of books to a com mon stock; these books are loaned to the members in turn. A more formal and much better way is the formation of a book-club, such as were common in England before the estab lishment of Mudie, in which each member pays at the beginning a certain sum, with which as many books are purchased as there are members, each one choosing a book; these pass in regular rotation from hand to hand, remaining a fort night with each reader; twenty books may thus be read for the cost of one. When the books have passed around the circle, they are sold to members for the benefit of the club. Fioes for detention and abuse of books also keep up the funds. No officer is required in this association but a treasurer. Another advantage in the plan is that books can be bought by the quantity at lower rates than singly. The same rule applies to subscriptions for magazines, newspapers, etc. ‘Not one man in a thousand marries the girl he most wants.’— Exchange. Yes, but look at the lots of girls who wanted us and who didn’t marry ns. The joy of this thought is only equal ed by the sorrow of the thought that another girl who wanted us did marry us. Don’t expect to be called a good fellow a mo ment longer than you consent to do just what other people wish you to do. •The Great l iellion.’ BY JOHN MIN BOTTS. There was a stro*g par in th« South oppos ed to secession; many them seeing them selves in a decided mino r yielded to an una voidable necessity, imlas well as political necessity, and became at ce strong defenders of the cause ot the Co deraoy. Others re mained Union men to j last. Among the writers of the South who posed secession was John Minor Botts, of Ri< lond, Va. The Botts family wei rom Maryland, the father of John Minor, < e first to Hie city of Richmond, as counsel 1 3urr, and after the trial of that remarkabiAin, determined to settle in Riohmond. H<w a cultivated and eminent lawyer, a mas-o ealtb, and gave his several sons ample oppoHity for refined and extensive education. JoMinor was the most talented, but less given tyndy of any of the family. He inherited a liable plantation in HiDes coHnty. He was, after one itnore decided de feats, elected to the H« 0 f Delegates from Hines county. After » g his attention to politics, he was nominated elected to Con gress from the Richmomjstrict. He was a man of great original pov. 0 f m j D( j w hj 0 h de veloped with rapidity, » devoting himself to politics, which occuj most of his time and attention. In Cqngijje was considered one of the ablest debators’ohn Quincy Ad ams pronounced him the (t debator he had ever heard in America, orffigland, but like | Jn: Giles, of Va., whom Jfcandolph styled, as a debator, the Walpoi merica, he was in an academic sense not o. nne duoated, but without the usual advan 0 f being ‘well read.’ Botts served several s(, s j n Congress. He was s bold and ardent t devoted to the personal and political ad-memt of Henrv Clay, whom he loved and re d, and whose tone of character and mi 8 he imitated to the unlimited and iBsuffer lver h e aringness of the rough and dogmatfrit 0 f tho great leader of the whig party. . Botts was right in being g, f or whiggerv started in opposition to thtgreat American Dictator and the first great. er 0 f constitu tional rights—Andrew Jack R n t with the accomplishment of a Prot Tariff and the defeat of the Andrew' Jaqparty in 1840 the whig party had periorjts functions^ and had nothing more to d m d necessaria- ly to expire—which it did. Botts was defeated for Co hy James A. Seddon, an eminent lawyej y er y upright man. Seddon voluntarily f rom t>iie life, and Botts was again Da t e( j tile whig party, but was defeatt* n s. Coskie. Messrs. Seddon and Coskit demoorats of the Calhoun Sohooj 1 ..Lu{^.naL»—t i. tue.r election mostly rfiersonai unpopu larity of Botts among-iders of his own party. Botts was opposed to i>n and met every issue boldly and honest! was a brave and honest man, and utterlyipromising in all of his opinion" and view ‘The Great Rebellion’rk of some force, the most prominent ftare its attack on the Democratic party, he responsibility that attaches to it, as lior of secession: and vilest assaults on tlsistration of the Confederate governmenlppareni violenoe and bad temper ®ersonalities of the work impair its fad it is to be re gretted that Botts exhaust of his strength in mere assault, insteacilosophio discus sion. The origin of the booious, and the cir cumstances attending notion is interest ing. in October, 1861 the consul in Rich mond applied to Charier,(who had been an agent at the Riohmrket to purchase tobacoe for the Frenchment which con stituted his action co-ofinetatesmanship or history;) in all inforie could furnish him upon the questionssion and aboli tion. On this request lade Mr Palmer applied to Botts. Whi the information desired was furnished :tter to Palmer, which forms the basiaork. The letter was sent to the Frenoh The entire cir cumstances attending ite very strongly that the letter was write request of the Emperor of France, .aid at the time that a messenger hadat by Louie Na poleon to the French at Washington, to procure infermationon to the origin, progress, and probabltf secession, and that the French Minislrocured the safe passage of the messenj from Richmond back to Washington. It became rumored thmond that Mr. Botts was engaged in secret history of secession and the war. On the first of Marcle writ of habeas corpus was suspendedf Congress. On the next day, Sunday an hour before daybreak, Botts was aibed, his papers examined, nothing foi satisfactory to the object of the search himself commit ted toprison and keptein solitary con finement. A Btrange conversaled between Mr. Botts and Captain Gisistant provost- marshall, the officer the arrest had been made. Captain Godwyn thi the government did not get hold of alitts’ papers. The result of the conversi that Mr. Botts informed him that hend that he could not, except on terms fled, wbioh was (hat Jefferson Davis 8ar before Judge Halliburton that oitg the paper it should be published uirer and Exam iner. Mr. Botts also rat, if it was pub lished just as it camaand, he would accompany it with fit or a thousand dollars to pay the explication. This remark appeared to iptain Godwyn, and he asked, ‘What otts?’ ‘It is tfie secret hiis rebellion, for thrty years before it During Bott’simpihe French min ister, Count Mercier.hmond and was anxious to see him hiibited from do ing so. The Frencbaced a copy of Bott’s letter to Mr. So hands of the French minister dint to Richmond, and it was undoubtes a diplomatic paper. This book is full lings. Mr Botts was offered a seat iifcnate from West Virginia. While cOrison to be tried for treason, he was 1, as he states, a commission of Brigll in the Confed erate Army. Mr. Botts would not say whether he would ac ceptor not until he saw the commission captain, Alexander, then provost marshall, saying to him, !n h vfoiT nl L aCCeP m it ’ thftt U woul<1 be delivered ™ f L? h ° Ur \ T bis, Captain Alexander said he would swear to do. At one period of the con versation, Mr. Botts said to Captain Alexander, if he accepted it, ‘Before the sun went down, I would hang every scoundrel of you, from Jeff. p p V 288 fiT t0 y0a,, (Grmt RehelUon Appendix, Butts, with all his violence, high temper and burning prejudices, was esteemed a truthful man. He was evidently above the seductive in fluences and temptations for office-proof against the cacoethes officio. The title page of this book says of it: ‘The political life of the author vindicated.’ This is an objeotional manifestation of that inordinate egotism which frequently manifest itself in the work before us. On the title page is presented a quotation from the author which he was in the habit of repeat ing, and which, notwithstanding its tautology and redundancy, to say nothing of its extreme pedantry, with its demogogueish slang, may be . „ ?h a0 TT^e5 e c !^l fi Lf^«!. 9ti ?. n t0 , the P e °P' le of I brave whistlers TnUnrr i l^/ rCat talent ’ extensive intellectual wl l r n elof l neat and able debater. tata^?i£SlT i “‘ 1 * re ** <» » interesting work by the same author. A Prose Idyl. L WhlSUerS - A < Class Tl»e Croaker’s Mission Ernie,I- fctioiteni.1^ Shadows—Tfie Past i*t tile Present. Whistling bojs and crowing hens Always come to some bad end &SB2- the United States, let its territory be ever so tensive and its population ever so dense. ‘I kpow no North, no South, no East, no West I only know my country, my whole country,’ and nothing but my country.’ John M. Botts. Mr. Botts shows historically that for many years there was a fixed purpose constantly on the increase in favor of secession; and shows also that the Lincoln administration was anx ious to avert secession, but with all of his his torical research and knowledge, he nowhere shows that the administration even offered any just, or fair, or equitable grounds for an ad justment of the difficulties that superinduced the civil war. . probability th9 wisest suggestions tend- K ng Ar ^ Toi ^ secession, or civil war was made by Mr. Botts, in proposing the assembling of a national convention to recognize the independ ence of each of the States as desired to with draw from the Union, and make the experi ment of a separate government. ■ Letters of fiSotts to attorney-general Bathes, April 19th, 18- b r~/f *be right of secession had been recost- nized, Botts thought, no State would secbde, and n any should make the experiment, that, it would not take them long to discover their error and return to the Union. ’ We will notice in connection with one of a similar character to Bo ts’ Work, ‘The War of the Rebellion, By ll. S. Foote.' it is entitled, ‘The War of the Rebellion, or bcylla and Charybdis,’ consisting of observa tions upon the canes and consequences of the iat. civil war in the United States,’ with the beautiful quotation from Virgil, ‘Et pater An- c/nses;^ Minimum hcec ille Charybdis. Hos Jlelenus Scopulos, hcec Saxa horenda cavebat eripites, 0 Soar pariter qui in subgite remis. The author of this work was born in Virginia was a fellow student of the science of law with the distinguished jurist. Justice Swayne, of the Supreme Court of the United States, to whom the work is dedicated. They were licensed by the same jury, and entered at the same time on the active career of that noble profession which brings honor and success to those who fulv worship Rt its exalted shrine. Foote settled in Tennessee, removed to Mississippi, pursued the Drofession of law was elected Governor of the State, and afterwards united States Senator, he was defeated for the Senate, migrated to California, and failing to be elected to the United States Senate from that State, settled again in Tennessee, and had the EHSSpSSS aiSesl'SSpSsS brave whistlers and crowfrs^ Tlmpncke ^t 11 pt ihlA be paln ont of tfa e heart. Ev- times bnt r th V ev° De8 i^™ * harp P ains the ™ at desnit' b nf ‘i y arft hero fB and heroines, who, despit of all, whistle and sing and crow keen ing up at the same time their own courage and the courage of the world as well. 8 If there is anything in this world that we re ally, cordially and supremelv hate it is the tZSbl. f W/th ?“ tbe most con- temptible business that a rational and immortal being cun engage in. Thera is a class ofthkvl denominated sneak thieves, but th el profession is dignified compared with that of the croaker The sneak thief steals trash: croaser. ““ 35 rassassssL. A few pence or dollars may replace it Rnt abonTrtSg sunshine aufof the°life “SSf harpy* ta,.? Wh.o before w,» ,he " grandly astir or the air so fall of promise ? It is positively glorious to live in these times \11 the years since creation’s morn, with all they present year, ood to-day, there is morn, v have achieved, are poured into the ihe world is more full of more golden fruitage ripening, there are grand £ to fiorv ')r g tb “ • “ *»r other g .p“ h insoj’ , Hnrua «ff J is no longer ignored ,s i£° i°?8 er crowded out of his own creation. Faith never before has“beer> so nobly manifested, and Christian zeal and heroism has borne the banner of the Cross, with its attend ant ble.ss.ngs, to the ends of the earth. vvhy tne croaker is the blindest kind of fool for he does not seem to see that bis occupation is clean gone, and that there is no S place for him in the earth enger any closer to the Master. Never before has the ni vine Spirit been so abundantly poured out The fcun ot Righteousness has made^e" perceptSe advance toward the zenith, and the shadows are growing snorter. Men understand each other beLer, sympathize with each other more and wort.' honor to be elected to the House of R^TenTa- t°he goodTh^tTsln tbfwoH i*? 1 anyt - h ' iD g of a11 fives of the Confederate SfoUo 5 . e> . . is in tne world be ever / ” e . 'to uoi vv fne U oiography of Foote, his his- tfiiat form it r~~- *-' ' tory m the Senate of the United States and iti the Confederate Congress have been well known for many years past. The work under consideration is written in a style classical and beautiful; its reminiscences of the past are very interesting and are presented in a most btrikiDg and at times captivating man ner. The sketches of John Quincy Adams, Cal houn, Clay, and WeLster are iair, just, and for cible indeed; the sketch of Webster is a model of classical beauty and propriety, accurate and true, and shows the great desoriptive and dis criminating power of the author. The very title of the work announces the phil osophic purposes of the author of the ‘War of the Rebellion,’ a history of its ‘Causes and Conse quences,’ This presents in two words the man ner in whioh the subject should be treated. The author alludes to what he calls the ‘Irre pressible Conflict’ Theory; the early colonial settlement in North America; considers the character of the people very nearly identical; cession of the Northwestern Territory, by Vir ginia and the states in. 1774—ordinance of 1787 —Federal Convention; the administration of Washington, and the absence of any sectional party during its continuation. In the election of John Adams of Massachusetts, and Jefferson of Virginia the same antisectional spirit pre vailed. Treats of Successive administrations of Jef ferson, Madison and Monroe; the rise of the Missouri question, and the violent agitation consequent thereupon; considers the compro mise wise and salutary. He writes forcibly, and truly of the great value, and necessity in govern ment cf compromise as ‘often times grandly typical of the almost attainable perfection ot human reasoning.’ This is not only true, but compromise, as a principle is absolutely necessa ry in all governments. Foote sustains his views on this subject by a very judicious quotation from Calnoun s able work on govern ment. r The author’s speculative views of the self defensive powers of all governments and of the government of the United States in particular, are true and axiomatic; but he does not make al lusion to the great principle of the right of revo lution as clearly asserted and maintained iL the Deoleration of Independence, and which the American people reassert on the 4th day of everv J uly. ‘ ' The Confederate constitution the author says was confessedly based upon the absolute sovereignty of the states, but claims that the principle was most shamefully abandoned, and truly illustrates trem the necessary operation of the Confederate Congress,’ the utter futility and worthlessness of all the Ultra States-rights governmental theories. He might with equal force and truth have made the same remark of the constitution of the United States The author has written a very interesting sketch ot some of the leading political questions which agitated the National government for many years proceeding the war. It is written with more taste and refinement than the work on the same subject by Botts; it is equally personal, but while Botts is evasive, corrse, and unscholarly, Foote is refined and severe in his satire, and less egotistical. Foote is exceeding ly severe in many of his personal criticisms. Davm he ridicules as a modern Cambyses, which if applicable on account of his great failures is surely not so in relation to his moral character. Beojamin, Slidell, Seddon, and the Confederate administration he abuses severely and unjustly. J The author attempts to give reasons for being a member of the Confederate Congress which unfortnately are unsatisfactory as the grand exploit by which he divested himself of his last Congiessional honors, and his unsuccessful efforts to obtain peace. With all of H. S. Foote’s violence, temper and indiscretion, which is very abundant, we consider him an honest, truthful and brave , — - —;te» m may be manifested. The germ, the pncciple, the result, is immortal. Every sheaf shall be garnered. Processes mav change, in struments may fail, but the end and the alorv are sure. What we see to-day is but the open manifestation of what was done ia the past; and that which we do to-day shall only f> 3 seen in the future. The coming Summer will be the revelation of all the days aud nights, the sun beams and the clouds of the Winter passed, d ithout the one there would not be the other. * -e glibiy talk ot death in this world of ours, but we tail to comprehend what it is. It is not annihilation; it is not even cessation; it is simp ly toe fulfillment, the advancement to a greater degree of perfection of the new. This is the song and the sermon of the sear leaf as it rattles away in the cold blast or whirls on the breast of tne storm. At the bottom of every dry leaf shak en oft lies the germ of the future, and the winds rock it, and the chilling frosts keep it back un til its proper time, and the sunbeams kiss it and the birds twitter around it, and the chan^l ing seasons pass over it, until at last, in the full ness ol its time, it expands, unfolds and blows out in its perfection. ®° t!ie u S es the generations work and push on towards the millennial day. The very earth is garnering up in her caverns and depths treas ures tor the redeemed yet unborn. The toiling, unthinking millions are laying rails, and hang ing w^res, and buildiDg ships for the more speedy evangelization ot the world through the practteal annihilation of time and space. Lov ing hearts and willing hands are rolling away the obstacles from before the sealed sepulchre, that the Lord ot Glory and the Giver of Life may come forth and speak new life to the dead. Ev en the biooJy hand of war is preparing a high way tor the Prince of Peace to travel on. And fools, too, w-hilo they vainly think they hinder, are really helping on, for He restrains their wrath ana turns it into praise. The coming of tho Kingdom and the coming of the lung is near er to-day than ever before. So the croaker is more a fool than ever. The brave whistler’s work is not without its reward; for through his cheery notes the world has kept heart and push ed on, tiff to-day science and philosophy and learning, every element in nature and every in strument of intelligence, is harnessed to the chariot of salvation. O. glorious day! when, work and warfare being ended, and hope fulfilled, heaven shall come down to earth and earth shall roach heav en, and its glory shall be alike on the mountain top and in the vale. h. How to Be a Gentleman- Money will buy a great many things, but it will not buy what makes a gentleman. If you have money you can go to a store and buy clothes. Lut hat, coat, pants and boots do not make a gentleman. They make a fop, and sometimes come near making a fool. Money will buy dogs and horses, but how many horses and dogs do you think it will take to make a gentleman ? Let, no boy, therefore, think he is to b§ made a gentleman by the clothes he wears, the horses he rides, the stick he carries, the dog that trots after him, the hons9 he lives in or the money he spends. Not one of those things do it—and yet every boy may be a gentleman. But how ? By being true, manly, and honorable; by keeping himself neat and respectable; by being civil and courte ous; by respecting himself and others; by doing the best he knows how. And finally, and above all by fearing God and keeping his command ments. A young Tennessee clergyman seems to have compressed the whole body of his sermon on ‘Deceit’ in the following: ‘Oh, my brethren, the snowiest shirt-front may conceal an aching r bosom, and the stillest of all rounders encircle a throat that has mauy a bitter pill to swallow’