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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