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BENNIE AND B10SS0JI.
A True Incident in Lincoln’s Life.
‘I thought, Mr. Allan, when I gave my Ben
nie to his country, that not a father in all this
broad land made so precious a gift- no not one.
he dear boy only slepi a minute.just one little
minute, at his post: I know that was all—for
Bennie never dozed over a duty. How prompt
and reliable he was! I know he only fell asleep
one little second;—he was ro young, and not
strong, that boy of mine! Why, he was as tall as
I, and only eighteen! and now they shoot him
because he was found asleep when doing senti
nel duty. Twenty-four hours, the telegram
said—only twenty-four hours. Where is Bennie
now?’
‘We will hope, with his Heavenly Father,'said
Mr. Allan, soothingly.
‘Yes, yes; let us hope; God is very rnerci-
ful!
•I should be ashamed, father,’ Benuie said,
‘when 1 am a man, to think I never used this
great right arm’—and he held it exit so proudly
before me—‘for my country, when it needed it.
Palsy it rather than keep it at the plow.'
‘ 'Go, then—go, my boy,’ I said, ‘and God
keep you !’ God has kept him, I think, Mr.
Allan!" and the farmer repeated these last words
slowly, as if, in spite of his reason, his heart
doubted them.
‘Like the apple of his eye, Mr. Owen; doubt
it not.’
Blossom sat near them listening, with
blancehd cheek. She had not shed a tear. Her
anxiety had been so concealed that no one had
noticed it. She had occupied herself mechan
ically in the household cares. Now she answered
a gentle tap at the kitchen door, opening it to
receive from a neighbor's hand a letter. ‘It is
from him,’ was all she said.
It was like a message from the dead! Mr. Ow
en took the letter, bnt could not break the en
velope, ou account ot his trembling fingers,and
held it out toward Mr. Allan, with the helpless
ness of a child.
The minister opened it, and read as follows:
‘Dear Father:—When this reaches you I
shall he iu eternity. At first it seemed awful to
me; but I nave thought about it so much now,
that it has no terror. They said they will not
blind me, nor bind me; but that I may meet
my death like a man. I thought, Father, it
might have been on the battle-field, for my
country,and that, when I fell, it would be fight
ing gloriously; hut to he shot down like a dog
for nearly betraying it—to die for neglect of
duty! Oh, father, I wonder the very thought
does not kill me! But 1 shall not disgrace you.
I am going to write you all about it; and when
I am gone, jou may tell my comrades. I can
not DOW.
‘You know I promised Jommie Carr’s mother
I would look after her boy; and when he fell
sick, I did all I could for him. He was not
strong when he was ordered hack into the ranks,
and the day before that night I carried all bis
luggage, besides my own, on our march. To
wards night we went in on double-quick, and
though the luggage began to feel very heavy,
everj body else was tired too,-and as for Jemmie,
if I had not lent him an arm now and then, he
would have dropped by the way. I was all tired
out when we came into camp, and then it was
Jemmie’s turn to be sentry, aDd I would take his
place; but I was too tired, father, I conld not
have kept awake if a gun lrd been pointed at
my head; bnt I did not know until—well un
til it was too late.’
‘God bo thanked !’ interrupted Mr. Owen, rev
erently. ‘I knew Bennie was not the boy to
sleep carelessly at his post.’
‘They tell me to-day that I have a short re
prieve, given to me by circumstances—‘time to
write to you,’our good colonel says. Forgive
him, father, he only does his duty; he would
gladly save me if he could; and do not lay my
death up against Jemmie. The poor boy is bro
ken-hearted, and does nothing but beg and en
treat them to let him die in my stead.
‘I can’t bear to think of mother and Blossom.
Comfort them, father! Tell them 1 die as a
biave boy should, and that, when the war is
over, they will not be ashamed of me, as they
must be now. God help me; it is very hard to
hear ! Good-bye, father ! God seems near and
dear to me; not at all as if he wished me to per
ish forever, but as it he felt sorry for his poor,
sinful, broken-hearted child, and would take
me to be with him and my iSavior in a better,
better life.’
A deep sigh burst from Mr. Owen’s heart.
‘Amen,’ he said solemnly— -amen.’
‘To-night in the early twilight, I shall see the
cows all coming home from pasture, and pre
cious little Biossgm staud on the back stoop
waiting for me; but I shall Dever, never come !
God bless you all! Forgive your poor Bennie?’
Late that night the door of the ‘back stoop’
opened softly, and a little figure glided out, aud
down the footpath that led to the road by the
mill. She seemed rather flying than walking,
turning her head neither to the right or the
left, looking only now and then to Heaven, and
fo ding her hands as if in prayer. Two hours
later, the same young girl stood at the Mill De
pot. watching the coming of the night train; and
the conductor, as he reached down to lift her
jjjlo the car, wondered at the tear-stained face
that was upturned toward the dim lantern he
held Id Lis hand. A few questions and ready
answers told him all;and no father could have
cared more tenderly for his only child, than he
for our little Blossom. She was on her way to
Washington to ask President Lincoln for her
brother’s life. She had stoleD away, leaving on-
lv a note to tell why and where she had gone.
She Lad brought Bmnie’s letter with her; no
pcod, kind heart, like the President’s, could re
fuse to be melted by it. The next morning they
reached New York, and the conductor hurried
her on to Washington. Every minute, _ now,
might be the means of saving her brother’s life
And so, in an incredibly short time, Bios-
som reached the Capital, and hastened im
mediately to the White House.
The President had but just .seated himself to
his mornings task of over-looking and signing
important papers, when, without one word of
ai nouncement, the door softly opened, and
Blossom, with downcast eyes and folded hands,
stood before him.
‘ Well, my child , ’ he said, in his pleasant,
cheerful tones ‘what do you want, so bright
and early in the morning?’
‘Bennie's life, please, sir.’ faltered Blossom.
‘Bennie? Who is Bennie?’
•My brother, sir. They are going to shoot
him for sleeping at his post.’
‘Oh, yes;’ and Mr. Lincoln ran his eye over
the papers before him. ‘I remember it was a
fatal sleep- You see, child, it was at a time of
special danger. Thousands of lives might have
been lost for bis culpable negligence.’
•So my father said,’ replied Blossom, gravely;
‘but poor Bennie was so tired, sir, and Jemmie
so weak. He did the work of two, sir, and it
was Jemmie s night, not his; but Jemmie was
too tired, aDd Bennie never thought about him
self, that be was tired too.’
‘Whk-t in this you say, child? Come here; I
do not understand,’ and the kind man caught
eagerly, as ev< r, at what seemed to be a justifi
cation of an offense. , . , , , ,
Blossom went to him; he put his haDd tender
ly on her shoulder, and turned up the pale,
anxious face towards bis. How tall he seemed !
and be was President of the United States, too.
A dim thought of this kind passed for a moment
through Blossom’s mind; but she told her sim-
ole and straightforward story, and handed Mr.
Lincoln Bennie’s letter to read.
He read it carefully; then, taking up his pen,
wrote a few hasty lines, and rang his bell.
Blossom heard this order given: ‘Send this
dispatch at once.’
The President then turned to the girl and
said: ‘Go home, my child, and tell that father
of yours, who could approve of his country’s
sentence, even when it took the life of a child
like that,, that Abraham Lincoln thinks the life
i far too precious to be lost. Go back, or—wait
until to-morrow; Bennie will need a change af
ter so bravely facing death; he shall go with
yon.’
‘God bless you, sir,’ said Blossom; and who
shall doubt that Ged heard and registered the
request?
Two days after this interview, the young sol
dier came to the White House with his little sis
ter. He was called into the President’s private
room, and a strap fastened upon his shoulder.
Mr. Lincoln then said: ‘The soldier that could
curry a sick comrade’s baggage, and die for the
act so uncomplainingly, deserves well of his
country.’ Then Bennie and Blossom took their
way to their Green Mountain home. A crowd
gathered at the Mill Depot to welcome them
back; and as farmer Owen’s hand grasped that
of his boy, tears flowed down his cheeks, and
he was heard to say fervently: ‘The Lord be
praised !’
PUN POlt THE PEOPLE.
A matter of taste—Tippling.
A real helpmeet—The carver.
Openings for dentists—months.
People that go to pot—gardeners.
A peer without an equal—Shakespeare.
The first duty on T—don’t forget to cross it.
A man behind the age should be ted on ketch
up.
Good place for Chiropodists—among cornish
men.
Persons of abandoned habits—dealers in old
clothes.
These are stirring times, as the spoon said to
the tea-enp.
If you give your word to anyone how can you
possibly keep it ?
What a dressmaker can boast—‘I’m engaged
to sew and sew.'
The National Hen Convention will probably
be held next season at Egg Harbor.
Don’t laugh too much. It’s only the cog
wheel that can afford to show its teeth.
Boggs says the times are so dull that it is diffi
cult for him to collect even his ideas.
A dandy on shore is disgusting to many peo
ple, but a swell on the sea sickens everybody.
When is the best time to buy cider? When,
it is not very clear, as it will then settle for it
self.
The umbrella was invented during David’s j
rain. It was successfully used as a parry-
Saul.
‘Maria, I’m almost discouraged. How many
times have I told you not to say tater, but per-
tater.’
‘The rich,’said the Jew, ‘eat venison because
it ish dear. 1 eat mutton because it is sheep.’
‘Here is your writ of attachment,’ said a town
clerk, as he handed a lover a marriage licence.
In some sentimental verses in a country news
paper the writer defines tears as the juice of sad
ness.
Why does the new moon remind one of a gid
dy girl ? Because she is too young to show
mucli reflection,
A cockney, in speaking of the disease of an
oetogenatian at Hati said: ‘He was born at ’Ati,
and he died at heighty.’
Young man, don t be afrade to bio yure own
horn. But don’t do it in front of the proces-
hun. Go behind and do it.—Josh Billings.
‘They say that trout will bite now, father,’
said a sporting youth, insiDnatiDglv. ‘Well,
well, mind your work and they won’t bite you.’
‘It is a shame, husband, that I have to sit here
meDding your old clothes !’ Don’t say a word
about it, wife; the least said the soonest mend
ed.’
A Kentucky orator and office seeker exclaim
ed. ‘I wish to be a friend to the friendless, a
father to the fatherless and a widow to the wid
owless.’
A wag who thought to have a joke at the ex
pense of an Irish provision dealer said: ‘Can
you supply me with a yard of pork ?’ ‘Pat, said
the dealer to his assistant, ‘give this gentleman
three pig’s feet.’
‘Sam,’ observed the magistrate, have you
hooked any chickens and geese lately ?’ “No
sab!’ replied Sam promptly. But when he got
home he threw down a bundle and said: ‘Ef he
had a said duck, Diuah, he’d a had me.’
‘Phairest Phloru,’ wrote au amorous youth
who is smitten with the phonetic craze, phor-
ever dismiss your phears, and phly with one
whose phervant phancy is phixed on you alone.
Phriends. phamily, phather—phorget them,and
think only of the phelicity of the phutnre !
Phew phellows are so phastidious as your Pher-
dinand, so phein not phondness if you pheel it
not. Phorego phrolin.and answer phinally.Pklo-
ra’s- Oh Pherdinand, you phool!' was phair
Phlora’s curt reply.
Jabtz Brouson, a rustic rhymer, when chal
lenged to compose an epitaph for a Deacon Wood
who was present, immediately wrote:
‘Within this wood lies Deacon Wood,
The one within the other;
The outside wood we know is good,
But doubtful is the other.’
I slept in an editor’s bed one night,
When no editor chanced to be nigh,
And I thought as I tumbled that editor’s nest
How easily editors lie.
Whoever reads a swallow-tale
Or wore a coat of arms?
Whoever saw the water-pale,
Or gave great falls alarms ?
Who ?
Whoever rode a wild saw-horse,
Or ever heard sand's tone?
Whoever saw the sun’s rays course
Or heard a pane full grown ?
Phew !
Tucker Blake says that in all of liis travels he
found the best grub in Germany, because it is the
fodder-land.
llogs are dying through the country, and, as a
safeguard, Zach Chandler has insured his life.
‘Cheese it,’according to our excellent and eleg
ant friend, Dr. Elliott Cones, is a corruption of
‘don't give it a whey.’
The Supreme Court of Indiana has decided that
smoking by attorneys in court, under the permis
sion of the judge, is not, good ground for granting
a new trial; and that when a judge closes his eves
during the progress of a cause the presumption is,
not that he is asleep, but that he is concentrating
his thoughts upon ihe argument.
A Cat Story.—A cat belonging to a minister
gave birth to four kittens. As she did not
seem Strong enough to suckle so maDy it was
judged best to drown them. After this she mciped
and went about in a desponding manner. A
few days alter she seemed worse—in tact, halt
frantic, continually rushing about the house.
Ou a sudden, she dashed out of the house ran
across the lawn, and plunged into the orna
mental pond in front of the house. She was
quickly rescued, and a little brandy given her.
As she then seemed a little better she was let
loose. Later in the afternoon, however, she
spied an opportunity to get of the house, ran
again to the pond, and plunging in was drowned
before she could again be recovered.
ALL THE WOULD OYEIi.
A startling innovation in tournaments has
been instituted at Freedom, Md., for the pro
gramme says, ‘Each knight after starting will be
required to draw a sword, cut right and left at
a lemon suspended on either side, then take a
ring as his horse leaps the hurdle.’
Frank Bnckland, the English naturalist, de
clares that babies swim naturally. A friend put
one into warm water and it took to it like a
duck, swimming briskly. The Polynesians, it
is known, find that their children can swim and
enjoy the exercise at a very early age.
While fishing at Swan Like Ind., Judge Pierce
got out of bait, when fortunately he saw a large
water snake about one hundred yards away
spring from a log. seize a minnow, and crawl
back ou the log. The Judge immediately pick
ed up his rifle and put a ball through the snake’s
j head, got the minnow, aud caught’a four pound
i pike with it.
Mr. Schmidt, of Milwaukee, ruined his sweet
heart, a young orphan girl, and married her to
escape prosecution. As soon as the ceremony
was over he deserted her. She went to the hos
pital and died of a broken heart, and then Mr.
Schmidt appeared and claimed her clothing and
other personal property, valued at 1,000. on the
ground that as her husband he was her legal
heir. Her late guardian will contest the claim.
Some of the bodies of the Princess Alice dis
aster were taken from the water, robbed and
thrown back again, and in more thau one case
drowning passengers were passed by boatmen
with the remark, ‘Oh, never mind him, he’s
alive; look out tor the dead ones. This is owing
to the regulation which provides that a reward
of five shillings be paid for the recovery of every
de d body, hut fails to reward the rescuer of
the living.
In Kansas they propose tracking horse-theives
with bloodhounds, and the horse-thieves pro
pose poisoning the bloodhounds with sponges
fried in lard.
Tho canvass in some of the Congressional dis
tricts of Virginia is beeomiug a very bitter one,
and may result in the failure to elect a Demo
cratic member in the Petersburg district. The
Republicans there have obtained no inconsid
erable sum of money with which they are paying
the poll-taxes of the colored votes, thus secur
ing their voters. The district has heretofore
been Republican, In the Norfolk district every
effort is being made to defeat the election of Mr.
Goode, but it is not believed that it will succeed.
Iu the Richmond district General Johnston will
without doubt be elected. There is no real con
test in aDy of the other districts.
A Racine, Wis., woman is credited with giv
ing birth to a child with an arm resembliug a
cat's paw, having claws instead of nails, and the
mouth resembling that of a cat. The cry of the
) clnid is like taut of a cat in distress.
A ray weighing 10,000 pounds collided with
the steamer Anadry, and shook the ship so that |
the passengers concluded the fish was not a
light ray.
Is civilization a failure? and is the Caucasian
race plaped out ? It looks that way when we
read that the coach running on the Black Hills
and Cheyenne route has been made iron-clad
and turnished with port-holes, through which to
fire upon the gay and festive highway robbers.
From the Shelby (Ala.) »Sentinel: ‘Newton
Bowls, of Chilton County, a married man ani
the father of three children, tried to elope with
a Miss Glass of the same county, aged about
fourteen, hut was arrested at Calera, his hands
were tied behind him and he was driven back
like an ox. The girl outran her pursuers and
escaped.’
A Hotel fiimner.
This is what they buy for a single dinner at
the Fifth Avenue Hotel, N. Y.
Eight loins beef.
Four ribs beef
Two hips beef
One rump corn beef
Seven calves’ heads
Eighty-eight pounds veal
Two old turkeys
Twenty young turkeys
Fifty-seven pairs chickens
Fifty-five pounds lobsters
Twenty-three pounds bluefish
Fifty-five pounds Spanish mackerel
Ten barrels potatoes
Two barrels sweet potatoes
Three barrels cabbage
One and one-half barrrels spinach
One barrel oooking apples
Ninety-three pounds grapes
Four legs mutton
Six racks mutton
Twelve racks lamb
One lamb
Forty kidneys
Seven dozen sweet-breads
Two pairs mongrel duoks
Two dozen woodcock
Two dozen partridges
Twenty pounds sea bass
Twenty-nine pounds soles
Twenty-eight pounds salmon
One and one-half bags Lima beans
One bushel beets
Four boxes tomatces
Three hundred and twenty-five ears corn
Four and one-half dozen bunches celery
One dozen egg-plant
One dozen cucumbers
Two boxes lemons
Parsley, mint, and soup vegetables.
AU supplies of fuel or provisions brought to
the hotel are received at the basement entrance
on Twenty-fourth street and carefully weighed
before they are stored away. Groceries are
bought monthly except tea and coffee, which are
purchased whenever an opportunity for a good
bargain is offered.
The Three Wives.
There resided in the town ot Stafford au ec
centric old miuister of the Church of England,
of whom many amusing anecdotes are related.
He had been married three times, but had been
unfortunate in each of his matri nonial ven
tures. His first wife was an extremely gay,
fashionable, worldly woman, the second was
very fleshy, and too fond of good living, and
the third was a perfect virago. The old gentle
man once thus expressed his opinion of his
three better halves: ‘I am afraid,’ said he, ‘that
my chance of salvationjis very slim, for although
I solemnly promised and vowed in baptism that
I would renounce, the world, ihe flesh, and the
devil, yet I have embraced them all in the per
sons of my three wives.’
On one occasion the old gentleman wa3 sitting
by the fire with his wife (No. 3), and the cat
aud dog were sleeping comfortably together on
the hearih-rng to which the lady calle i her hus
band’s attention, saying, ‘My dear! Why can
not you aud I get along together as quietly and
peaceably as they do ?’ ‘Humph !’ said he, ‘tie
them together, and see what they will do then.’
A composer has written a song entitled ‘Dar
ling, hug me as before,’ a duet without accompan
iment. They all duet.
Deau Stanley was surprised at a station by a
lean person with a tuft of red ehin whiskers
putting his head in at a oar-window and shout
ing: ‘Hellow, Stanley! Hooraw! How's Afri-ky?’
SIR MOSES MONTEFIORE
A.T
BAMSGATE.
Visitors at the Granville Hotel, who, leaving
the p; ecincs of that establishment, wander to the
eastward, find their path along the cliff impeded
hv a flint wall extending for some distance at
right angles to the cliff itself. A little door is
blocked up, and all that can be seen of the in
terior is a great mass of foliage, and a vast hedge
of verdure which overhangs the precipice. Pass
ing round the wall, of Eist Cliff Lodge, and leav
ing a cornfield on his left band, the visitor be
comes aware of an ordinary lodge and gateway,
beyond which are seen, through a forest of shrubs,
Ihe sham battlements of a Strawberry-IIill-Gotliic
cistle. This droll style of decoration is carried
out even to tlie gateway, which is fashioned to
resemble a portcullis, an I admits the guest to the
common place entrance of a very ordinary dwell
ing, Modern aestheticism has not yet. planted its
foot inside East Cliff Lodge, where everything is
soldid, sober, respeclahle, and emblematic of the
taste and life of the wealthy “bourgoisie” of the
old school. The tables stand firmly on their legs,
the chairs are singularly substantial, the books
are well but plainly bound. There is an un
mistakable air of wealth about, ererything; not of
the wealth which apes the mansions of the aristo
cracy, or bubbles over in artistic strivings, but of
that quiet solidity which reveals in every ill plac
ed angle and ev try ugly curve thie existence of a
good sound fortune invested in the best of all pos
sible securities.
The owner of this particularly comfortable
home is Sir Moses Montefiore, whose great age
makes him one of the most interesting living links
wi-h the past. While the venerable Baronet was
yet learning his alphabet, the “chateaux” of the
nobles blazed from one end of France to the other;
before he could read or write, Louis XVI, and
Marie Antoinotte perished on the scaffold. In
his youth the talk was of “Billy” Pitt and “Char
ley” Foy; of Shelidan and the Prince Regent; of
Colonel Mellish and Beau Crummel; the man
of whom we speak as Napoleon was “Boney,” the
Corsican ogre; the greatest French painter was
David. Sir Moses Monttiore had reached man
hood when the eloquent Windham rose in the
House of Commons to denounce the opponents of
bull-baiting as unpatriotic Jacobins, whose strict
ures were alike offensive to the hall, the
dogs, and the spectators; and slipped off the next
morning to witness a prize-fight between Jackson
and Mendoza, Belcher aud Humphreys, or some
other lights of the fistic world. He was well be
fore the world when Captain Best shot Lord
Camelford, and was thirty years of age when the
battle of Waterloo was fought. Twenty-two years
later, being then Sheriff of the City of Loudon,
he received the honour of knighthood; and in 184ti
was made a baronet, it is said, entirely on account
of the personal regard of the (Jueen for his be-
nnvolent character. He was no stranger to her
Majesty, who, while living at Pyrnnnt, Broad,
stairs, with her mother, the Dutchess of Kent,
frequently walked in the pleasant grounds of
East Cliff Lodge, the owner of which begged her
acceptance of a little golden key to give her ad
mittance at all times without ceremony. Since
the sojourn of the Duchess of Kent and the Prin
cess Victoria at the watering pi ce consecrated to
the genius and tradition of Charles Dickens, a
new generation was growu up, but the name of
Montefiore is not unknown wherever unostenta
tious benevolence receives its tilling meed of hon
our 1
Few men have borne the weight of years so
well as the Jewish Baronet. Gifted by nature
with a tall and massive frame, he has preserved
health and vigor far beyond the allotted term of
human-life. His forehead aud white hair would
vividly recall the appearance of Talleyrand were
not the fathomless eyes and the marble brow re
placed by a hearty and genial expression, The
huge white neckcloth and high-collared coat, the
vast “gills” and the ample “jacob,” are of a peri
od now passed into history, but these remarka
ble vestments well become their owner. There is
indeed, in Sir Moses Montefiore a trace of that
most agreable form of dandyism, the dandy
ism of neatuess and quiet elegance, which gives
an old world “chic,” as it were to its professor.
From his snowy “jabot” to the silver buckles of
his shoes, the master of E ist Cliff Lodge is a mir
acle of neatness. His speech is not unlike his
apparel, genial and hearty, with a seriousness
tempered by good humor. His kindly outward
aspect reveals the inner man. So large hearted
is his charity that it is said no man ever sought
help at East Cliff'and was denied. Denial, indeed,
is only male with extreme reluctance. The late
Larly Montefiore was averse to denial at all; aud
Sir Moses often tells a s:ory illustrative of her
large-hearted benevolence. Among those who had
hail frequently received sums of money from him
was a coreligionist of the most undeserving and
htpeless kind. Again and again had Sir Moses
sent him cheques, and again and again had the
irrepressible beggar applied for assistance.
Sir Moses, having discovered that his money was
spent in drinking and gambling, informed his
wife that he should give the never-do-well no
more help; whereupon Lady Montefiore opened
her cheque-book and wrote a cheque, remarking
“My dear, 1 think we had better send him some’
thing; 1 am sure nobody else will, if we do not.”
The memory of this admirable lady, nee Judith
Cohen, isfondly cherished at Eist Cliff" Lodge,
where every scrap of linen is marked with the
Hebrew equivalent for “She has returned above.”
Her custom of feeding the wild-birds, and en
couraging them to frequent the dense shrubberies
round the house, is also maintained with great
exactitude; in fact, it may he said that all ihe
wishes she expressed while living are faithfully
observed now that she is dead.
Albeit the charity of Sir Moses Montefiore is
dispensed without regard for age, sex, religion,
or country he remains a Hewbrewof the Hebrews.
Ilis keeuest sympathies are expressed ivuh op
pressed and suffering Je ws iu various parts of the
world. In their behalf he has, in spite of his ad
vanced age, undertaken long and fatiguing jour
neys, aud conducted negotiations of wearisome
lenght against almost overwhelming odds. In de
fending his coreligionists he has won privileges
for them, and honour for himself. In birbaric
Morocco and autocrat Russia he has obtained a
hearing on behalf of the Jews, and when he in
terested himself in the Mortara case the late
Pope treated him with marked respect. It may
seetn strauge to Christains and others that at this
moment, when the Jews have at least a fiir share
of place and power, aud most of the money in the
world, the aspirations of many of their number
should not be contented. To tlie Christian eye
they appear to have several new Jersualetns, such
as New York, Frankfort-am-Main, Berlin, and
London; but for all this Jews of the oldest school
stilt have a hankering for Palostine, a fact which
may explain some recent strokes of Eaglish policy,
none cast a more loviug eye towards Jerusalem
than the venerable Baronet at Eist Cliff It is
on the holy city that his feeling of veneration is
concentrated, and it is on Jerusalem that he has
lavished the largest sums distributed by his ever-
opeu hand. Over and over again he has journey
ed to Palestine, and employed all the influence
he could bring to bear in inoroving the condition
of the resident Jews, who, it may be shrewdly
guessed, have not failed to mike the best of their
splendid opportunities. It must be confessed
j
j that Sir Moses Montefiore has not, many imitators
j among i he younger generation of Hebrews, who
j are apt to make liorht of the holy citv and the
j dwellers therein, When Mr. Itischoffshelm was
i asked whether he really and devotedly looked for
i the return of the Jews to Palestine, he promptly
; replied, “\es; ’ hut when asked what office he
would like to hobi under the new Judadic regime,
he as promptly answered, “Pa’estinian ambassa
dor at Paris. Not so Sir Moses Montefiore,
who has laboured not only with pious zeal, but
practical ardour, to effect the regeneration of
Ju bei by the encouragement of agricultural and
mechanical pursuits among its inhabitants, ami at
the present moment is the motive power of a well
organised endeavour to give effect to h;s benevo
lent desire.
Second only in Sir Moses Montefi ire’s mind to'
the re establishment of the Jews at Jerusalem,
and, indeed, forming part of that devout scheme
is a Jewish college h ird by the Bironet’s resi
dence and attached to the synagoge, whether he
is carried in a sedan chair. Here also are Jewish
boarding schools and the mausoleum of Lady
Montefiore, to whose memory the college is dedi
cated, It is designed to provide for ten aged He
brews, pious and learned in Jewish Law and
| Talmudic literature. Here they leal a happy life
in eating and drinking, sleeping, and praying.
I During ihe day they are supposed to he poiing
over musty manuscripts, and their evenings are
passed in refreshing their minds by compairing
stories imbibed in early youth in the semi-civiliz-
•' ed villages of Russia, Poland, and Palestine. The
fortunats Rabbis have no c ire in life, and lea l an
ideal existence of learned contemplation in the
pleasant air of Ramsgate, and retire to rest lulled
by the roar of the sea.
Although an early riser for a man of his ad
vanced age, Sir Moses Montefiore is rarely visible
in the morning, which is passed mainly in his own
room, a cheerful apartment, decked with portraits
of the late Lady Montefiore; of the late Sir An
thony de Rothschild; of Mrs. Cohen, the grand
mother of Lady Roseheury: and of Captain Keppel.
j There is also a bust by Weekes of Lord Hammond,
who, when at the Foreign Office, was always ready
to aid the venerable Baronet in his exertions on
behalf of persecuted Jews abroad. So vig.
orous is Sir Moutifiore that his powers of conver
sation show no sign of falling off, and his politi
cal opinions are as clearly defined as ever. He is
a good fashioned Tory, and a hearty admirer of
1 thick-and-thin Toryism. His recollections of
1 historic personages are exceedingly interesting.
It is pleasant to hear him tell how he met the
i hero of Trafalgar at dinner at Mr. Goldsmid’s;
and to mark his smile of gratification as he dwells
on the fact that, during the time he and Sir George
Carroll were Sheriff s of London, neither man nor
woman was hanged. As a matter of course he
lives somewhat by rule, and is esppciallv careful
to eat very little dinner. It is, however, a note
worthy fact for the growing school of total ab
stainers that this good old Tory rarely drinks far
j short of a bottle of port wine at dinnpr. His cel-
! laris noted in the county, and boasts of vintages
sixty years old. Another proof of the extraordi
nary strength of his constitution is found in bis
rigid observants of the fasts prescribed by his re
ligion. Thoroughly Conseavitive in his life and
opinions, he has never yielded to the modern
weakness of having gas aud water laid on in his
house. Lamps, candles, and a woll sunk in the
chaep supply the wants of Eist, Cliff Lodge; but,
clinging as he does in practice to oldfashioned
ways, he is a wide reader of newspapers
and periodicrls. He has like most men his
favourite volumes, and takes special delight in
Sturm's “Reflections” and Cicero “De Scnecture;”
I but lie spares neither time nor pains to make him-
| self conversant with every “nuance” of Eaglish
and European politics, and to keep thoroughly
abreast of the most advanced tnought of the day.”
Stage Dots.
Miss Minkh Hauk, the American prima
doBna, who has recently returned from Europe
with HUch a harvest of foreign laurels, sung re
cently in New York, in the opera of Traviata.
As Violetta, she had a magnificent opportunity
to show her improvement aud the quality of her
voice. She was graceful, coquettish, pretty and
charming. She sang correctly; but she lacked
the divine fire -the indescrib ible quality that
we call magnetism, sympathy, and what not.
Neither did the tenor succeed in exciting enthu
siasm, though he was the fine musical artist,
Signor Frapolli, and it was the baritone Signor
Glassi, whose powerful dramatic sympathetic
tones moved the house and broke up their cold
ly critical manner of listening.
Another Compliment for the graceful actress
with the pearlv-teeth and cornation lips, for
whom the Southerners have such a liking.
Miss Anna Story is highly complimented by
the Biston critics for her verv fine acting of the
part of Sister Simplice in Cossette. The play
is a strong melo dramatic adaptation of Victor
Hugo’s famous novei, ani retains ani intensi
fies much of the most dramatic parts of the orig
inal, which is from the most remarkable dramat
ic writer of the time. Mr. Lcwi3 Jam9s took
the principal part, Jean Valjean.and distinguish
ed himself, as he does in ail of his characters,
by the force and intellectuality of his rendition.
The Capital has this to say of Mr. Ford's Com
edy Company and the play of Pocahontas, which
Atlanta audiencias have been listening to this
week.
At the National last week The Hidden Hand
was withdrawn,after a rather cold reception—nat
urally given to the bad adaptation of a b id nov
el—and on Thursday evening, John Brougham's
well known burlesque of Pocahontas was put
on, with Miss Adelaide Dctohon in the title role,
Dsnham as Powhatan and Mrs. Blanche Ford
as Captain Smith. The first performance show
ed the faults incident to a hnrried preparation,
but on th‘ next evening the music was done bet
ter, ani the splen lid humor of the dialogue
went off more trippingly on the tongues of the
actors; the au lieoce being delighted, as they
are bound to be with such a clever burlesque.
M;ss Dstchon acted the mock heroine well, and
interpolated several recitations,which displayed
the talents that properly belonged to the higher
spheres of the profession, and should not be
wasted or in arred in the study of farce. Any
success, therefire, achieved in this Hue would
be rather a cause of regret to those who have seen
her in a Shakespearean role, ani feel the inter
est which youth, beauty and talents excite.
The Dramatic Fund Association.
From the report of Mr. William B. Harrison,
the secretary ot' the American Dramatic Fund
Association, which was incorporated in the year
1813, it appears that the total amount received
since the incorporation for subscriptions, fines,
interest, benefits, initiations, cartific ites, din
ners, balls, donations, amount to $174,531,59.
Total amount nai l to widows and orpnans, aged
and sick, $89 089,71. The present number of
paying associates is bnt fifty-three, while the
number of recipients is soveuty. Mr. William
Davidge, the chairman, has issued a circular to
the entire theatrical profession and poiy-going
public to devise some course of action for the
permanent ani prosperous government of the
association.
According to fashion's bulletin, ladies’ hats’will
be felt—by whom it does not state, though it may
be safely inferred j4 thatJ|the husbands wilt feel, the
bills. i