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wmnfl iff TIIOIGlJJji IILDS. Adventures in the Arkansas and Red River Regions Half a Century Ago* PERSONAL BEMIN’ISICENi CES OF 0 1. WH. SPARES, THE AUTHOR OF * FIFTY YEARS AGO. ” With no very enviable feelings, Gilminot and myself went to our lodge, when weoonsnlted up on the situation. Oar horses were h. bbe 1 oh the prairie, grazing. Hal they been at command, we should have left Btealthily, and as best we could, have found our way down the river to tbo nearest white settlement, then buta little way above where is now the ancient town of Nacbitocb' s To attempt to recover these might < xcite suspicion and increase the peril of our position. We knew we were under the ban of the head chief's displeasure, and we had just seen that his will was law, urauimously acqui esced :n eyen against the oj position of his ii.flu- ential son. Reluctantly w- yielded to necessity, and agreed passively to abide the issues of to morrow. This, however, was no relief to our apprehensions. The evening w. s beautiful, clear, calm and balmy. The stars came out upon the blue ether above in lovely brightness, and the quiet w: s ominous of sleep and rest. I believe it is the universal habit of the Indian, when co: scions of security, to retire very early. To-night, at an early hour, none were astir. The sleepy atilloe s was undisturbed, save an occasional dispute snarlingly made between two or more hungry curs over a bane, unearthed by some more provident canine from where he had con- side; ately concealed it. Lean dogs are always on the watoh, and it was the noon of night, when, near our lodge, we heard an ominous growl—and a whispered rebuke instantly obeyed — and all was still again. To ns, under tbe cir cumstances, sleep was impcsiible, and every sound alarming. There was audible a stealthy tread near the entrance of our lodge, and presently a low call —evidently meant only for our ears. It was Ghalal i and the young Lipan. Unbound and free, she bade i s take up our traps and follow her. This we did with silent alacrity, because we were assured this was the doing of Chaleo. Saon we were prepared, and silently follow ing outside the circle formed by the lodges. Occasionally a prowling cur wo a Id growl at us, but would crouch to her. She had, at her pa rent's bidding, stolen into the lodge where was tbe Lipan boy, where she found bis guards asleep, and had cut the binding thongs and re leased him. He had received the hint from Chaleo rot to sleep, and the coming of friendly aid was expected, consequently his release was noiseless. The wily girl I led us across the little stream, putting the ribboa of fading yellow foliage aloDg its margin between us and the village. Our march accelerated, soon brought us where Chaleo was standing with our hordes, and the Lipan caparisoned and ready for flight, with instructions not to leave the stream until morn ing, and then to dash at speed into the open prairies. In a moment we were under way. Slowly and noislessly i s possible, when suffi ciently away not to ’*» heard, we quickened our _Dacf u following as l**J W could the stream, crossed the stream Af^an'cT 'ftUf smiling in t!he coming^day just as we pmerged from the bushes into the open prairie. We were astonished to find there, in waiting, Chalala upon her hunting pony, with her bow and quiv er slung ready on emergency for aDy peril. Reining her pony from the shade of the bushes, she dashed at speed up the sloping plain, and young Oclocone (for that was the boy's name) followed without thought or hesitation. Ignorant of the oause of her presence, we fol lowed. and for a moment remained still, with every in- dication of listening, as simultaneously eaoh lifting bis head, looked inquiringly in the same din ction. Oclocone gently raised his head and listened attentively. Then placing his ear to the ground, was a moment silent and still. Rising.he looked intently, and gave a significant grunt, which was only comprehended by Chalala. Shi sprang up, stood a moment, when she said,‘the Pawnees oome‘1’ and rapidly caparisoned her pony and was ready to move. All were ready in a few moments, but stayed to listeD and look. A dull, monotonona sound rode upon the breeze, like the coming of a strong wind. In a few moments, upon the distant horizon, was seen, as the noise grew more and more distinct* a dari (moving mas«,when Chalala leaping to her. saddle, exolaimed: It is buffitlos stampeded on the plain, and flying b< fore the Pawnees. They come on our trail, and now if we would escape, we must flee before this herd. They leave none save their own trail, and will tramp out ou:s. Then let them follow where we go.’ N jw they were distinctly visible—a mighty mass of animal life, frightened and fleeing from the apprehended danger. Nearer and nearer they come and we dash away before them. Careful to keep the mighty herd in ourw ake,we rode sufficiently in advance not to alarm them, for we felt in their following was our salvation. For hours the chase was continued on, until the twilight found us upon a small stream, adown which, and in the water we followed the lead of Oclocone and the Pawnee girl for a mile or so, when we listened for the biffalos. With slackened pace they were coming down the de clivity towards the stream where they seemed to stop. Here, amidst the sparse bushes and tall grass, we made our bivouac. Oar horses were held unhampered, and let to feed upon the abundant grass which was green and rich, and keenly relished by our beasts. The stars shone out, and presently the horizon was lighted by the moon coming up and showing us the east. Picketing our horses, each made his bed by a shadowing btsii upon the grass, and rolled in b.s buffalo robe, reposed upon it The illumination of the moon showed us the extended plain over which we had oome, but there was no evidenoe of the presence of the buffalos. li was not long before Chalala stole softly from her lair and went st<atbiiy away, and the night was far spent before she returned, when she quietly aroused Oclocone and sent him away She had been to keep watoh for the apprehend ed pursuit, and had sent the Lipan on the same mission whilst she slept. With the morning we renewed cur march, fol lowing the stream. The third day alter our flight we came to t.ni crossed Red rmr, and found a sparsely wooded country. Oclocone was leading to his Lipan home and a sured ns of welcome and protection there. He no longer manifested apprehensions of cap ture, and was gay and at times mirthful. ,Oace with the Lipans we would find securely our w ay down the river to Coffa trading station, and thence by the river to the sutlements be low. Chalala feared the treachery of the Lipans and pleaded to follow us, avoiding the Lipan towns we were approaching. No prof station of Oclocone assured her. She knew the Indian’s treachery and she feared it, but unhesitatingly confided in the white man, and would follow him, leaving parents, kindred, ail and forever. But, query, rH-i-she think ? or was her conduct the f -—’ Q 't,'. 1 ..:.tTTg B *“ t f re ’„ fllr A ontstriped by the boy, and fearing they were in dangerous proximity of the Lipan towns, had arrested the chase, and returning, trailed us to our hiding place, and then awaited the morning for our capture. Now they were re turning upon our trail O ! the anxiety and agony of that march. How the advioe of Madam Natribe orowded upon my memory, followed by bitter regrets. Home and the happiness there I had thrown away for this aimless, vagabond life: the peril I was in—and for what ? (TO BE CONTINUED.) Anything hut a Help-meet. A Picture From Life. t was eVeninkFaud £« were threading our way through >:he open woods and uocon scions of our approach fco the Lipin’s home. He was riding in advance of i s considerably, when from the hill's summit which he had attained, he gave fiercely the war wloop and wildly dash ed away into the valley below, and into the denser forest. He was a: s wered defiantly by many voices, and the woods rang with the clat ter of horses feet going at speed and the wild shouts of their riders. In one of J nuie Jane’s ‘Talks with Girls’ oc curs the following sketch illustrative of a dis position too frequent among young girls: ‘The most common discontent is that which com s from unoccupied lives, from an ambition which has nothing in or out of itself to satisfy it. There are hundreds, doubtless thousands, of young women who long for distinction of one kind or other. They would like to be authors or artis s, or women of society. They are poor, aud have no distinguished connections, and their lives are one long wail over what they have not got—are not likely to have. In themselves they are as poor ?•;&- their fortunes; the little knowledge they "’possess is snperficial, and they have no real love, even for those things which they affect to admire and desire to reach. They only wish, in reality, to avoid the duties and obligations which they have reotivei as their birthright, and appropriate the rewards which others have gained, without the trouble of work ing for them. Tni«, it need-Jiardly be said, is the most ig noble disooutent of all, and calls for no sym pathy, while it is pretty sure to bring suffering upon any one who indulges in it. Take a case ip point. I knew a yonng girl who lived in the country, and indulged iu am bitious dreams in which young girls will. So thoroughly did they absorb her that si e nr lected all her home duties, and failed to perfect herself iu even those common housewifely ac complishments which it is essential every wom an should hi.ve acquired by praotica! experience. She was a burden rather than a help at home, and it was a relief when, during a brief visit to the city, she became acquainted with, and en gaged to, a young man employed in a banking- house, with whose reputation for large and hon orable dealings even the residents of a small country town were acquainted* But a very few months of married life sufficed to dispel illu- sioLs of both sides. The husband, who thought he had wedded a bright, intelligent young coun try girl, well trained in household matters, and able to make for him a pleasant home upon small means, discovered that he had for a wife a restless, ssheming young person, ambitious in a small way, not for his honor and real success, but for the notice of certain people, who repre sented her world, to see her name figure in little society paragraphs, to ‘give receptions,' and be able to say that she knew or had been invited to the houses of people she had read about. On her dide, instead of the entree into brilliant so ciety, thi v sits to theaters and opera, the free dom ora fuibpurse, aud ability to gratify her inclination f *r dress, she found a husl.a-id full of anticipa^ s of l quiet, economical home, in accordanc.rles Lehrs slender means, able lo af- tunities which it placed within her grasp. But the habit of her life, and the tendencies of ber character, were too much for her. She had cultivated no useful acquirement-she was not even yet a good housekeeper—and she blamed everything and everybody but herself for her misfortunes. She had no real friends, and she drif ed back finally to ber old home. Away from her, the husband began to retrieve himself. He wrote to his firm declaring bis good intentions; he devoted his time aud ener gies to r storing that of which he had wrong- folly deprived it ; he sent occasional small sums of money to his family, which assisted them to a poor maintenance, but no member of it was made aware of bis whereabouts, or in what part of the world he wi.s living, at least up to the time at whioh the knowledge of the writer of these lines terminated. Was It a Ghost? ‘It is the Pawnees,’ said Chalala, and turning back she said, ‘follow me.' We obeyed, when Tutsc prairie ponies appear a peculiar race. I back she said, When the Spaniards first peopled Mexico, they , rapidly we rode deeper inio the forests depths brought from Andalusia this African beast, then to fiud concealment and security, conscious we the only breed of horses in Spain. They had J were in the presence of danger, been brought by the Morns, and during their . Twilight found us in a densely clustering long stay, had been propagated by both Moor thicket of stunted trees, and near a noisy li" and Spaniard as more enduring andUf greater \ tie rivulet. We no longer heard the thrilling yell of the Indian and save the prattling wa- had ter, every thing was silent. What a stillness peivades the wilderness, where neither man or beast make their homes, whether forest wild fleetness than the Spanish stock. There been imported some others, and there were none native to the country. Tbe genial clime and abundant pasturage obviated thenec ssity of providing forage, or food of any kind for them, | or treeless plain* in the Mexican dominions. They were permit- I u , , .... ted, and are to this day, to roam at large, and r ,fj,V a f r an f d hcw P ainfal ° ur summon, wandering far from the spaiss settlements, they | 1“ 1 ® 6xtent , wa knew knAimiA wild ab the elk and hnifon and aa *aa«fni ^ inhabited at all, it was by strong Indians, who might kill and scalp us, without staying to hear who we were, or our motive for being in their country. Almost without food, our horses jaded aud now away frem their ac- “feW head juIy on the rarest qejasiens, nd wilUng^, -l-lv- Juait uo Lu x..-, . ofore’ffiad the •.necessiti’s rtf his new became wild as the elk and bnffalo and as fearful of the presence of man. There the blood and breed continued unadulterated. They are small, compact, fleet, enduring, full of spirit and energy. Reared exclusively upon the grasses of the plains, they have more wind than muscle—hardly and too long driven they will lag wearily, but a few hours rest|rt stores the < x- hausted muscles to their wanted elasticity and strength, and they are ready for another run of many hours. 1 heir wind is never, in horse par lance, broken, because it is more enduring than their mnsoular strength. customed grazing, found but slight support from the rough and coarse herbage, upon which they were obliged to feed. Oclocone, our pilot, had fled, perhaps was slain, and we knew no path of safety, or the distance we were from succor. To me this was a terrible situation. But aocustomed to the woods and a wandering life, Gilminot was not so much oppressed. Cha- Onward we followed the lead of Oclocone and! L a 'r i r spass t ive ’ but e , vide " tly alaruied - «4 r OjSI* ti'ling to the grain.fad horaea, j £“ .° ’"“““i ““Ji?" and when the sun came np and sent his rays over the dense green grass of the outspreading treeless prairie, we were many a mile away from the Pawnee villiage. Our paces was slackened to a walk, and it was then that we learned the cause of the following of the prairie belle. There was nothing of mock modesty in her wild nature,she was full of woman’s instincts,and fear lessly avowed them. She acknowledged the de ceiving of her parent and her motives, and avowed ber determination to follow wherever we might go, at the same time «xpressiug her conviction that we would be followed, and with out extreme caution in our movements, be cap tured. Our protest availed nothing—she was persistant, and regardless of cols quenoesto us or to herself. Her only reply to what we said was : ‘Quick! quick! be quiok ! The Pawnee is on our trail!' Onward we went, over hill and dale, until fatigue and fastiDg ioolined both man and beast to stop and partake of rest and refreshments. The care of Chaleo had filled our haversacks, that we might not be delayed in queet of food. The Lipan boy understood well tbe way to his home beyond the river, for whioh we were hurrying, and we followed his lead. Ascending tbe loDg,gradual slope of the plain to attain the summit of its elevation, we slackened our paoe. Arrived at this, we stop and picketed our po nies to graze and rest We made a slight repast, then prone upon the dense grass, we sought the needed repose. For miles away, in every direction, the eye oonld not detect an objsot moving over 1 plain. All, in this extended space, was q*iei No moving thing was seen or heard. The hj ras> was yellowing, and the autumn breeze fitful! came and it’s breath was ohillv. Our ponies had rested and were grazing with avidity.* The yonng Lipan was a little way off, apparently sleeping calmly. My companion watched anx iously, apprehensive of pursuit, while I contem plated the form of Chalala, (reposing upon a buffalo robe spread out upon the ourly muskeit j upon the dry earth. When the morning came, tbe last of our pre visions were consumed and afforded but a lean meal. Scarcely had we mounted and emer ed from this little thicket, before^we were surround ed by a band of painted warriors, and at their head wt.s Chaleo. Halting his band, he rode threateningly at me and commenced to npbraid me with the theft of his danghter. In a moment Chalala was between us, and I saw her in a new phi ss. There was nothing of timidity about her; on the contrary, she was not only bold and fearless, but fieice and defiant, avowed my innocence and asserted the truth that of her own free will, and not only without my consent, but without my knowledge, she had followed me, and defying his vengeance upon me, declared that tbe blow which slew me should be the signal for her own life. Slowly her father eyed her daring this paroxysm of rage, unmoved and motionless his features and his actions. For a moment he was silent. Then he called his sons, and placing Gilminot and myself in their charge, moved away with his daughter, followed by all his band. Tnese two brothers had been of the party which found us at the lodge of Yanlaudinsham, The elder of these had given me the mare I was riding, but now he was silent, watchful aud stern. It was noon before there was a halt, and then only for half an hour. Chalala was constantly by her father's side, but not allowed to speak or i"0 with Gilminot and myself. Chaleo did nut approach us, but I learned o'loiigh to k:<ow we were prisoners, and on our r*i ip. m«roh to the Pawnee towns. The band hud been foiled in their attempt to follow our trail across the prairie, and believing Oclocone would pilot us to his town, they had crossed Red river lower down than we had, and knowing the route we would probably pursue, had lain in wait for us but a little way from the Lipan village, the home of the boy. Riding in advance, Oclocone and the Paw- grass. How calmly quiet she appeared. ' n * ea bad simultaneously discovered each other. An hour bad gone by, when suddenly our j tbe b °y g av ® the defiant war whoop, ponies simultaneously oeased to nip the grass, ai,d dae,n 8' ‘he Pawnees pursued until they tofore’ iifo. to society which her imagination had fondly pictured, she found that marrying had cut it off, instead of enlarging its boun daries, even for her husband. Inviting a mar ried man and b's wife, with whose antecedents you are net acquainted, is a quite different tning, in a city, from inviting a well iniormeu and rather prepossessing young man, who is free from any 'encumorance' of this sort, and this disagreeable fact soon made itself kao^n to the young woman in question’ much to her disgust. Here was she, appreciative, or so she consid ered herself, with the strongest desire for an in troduction to the charmed circles of att, literat ure, and taste, within a stone’s throw of their mater al boundaries, and yet as iffootually shut out as if she had remained an inmate of the pa ternal homestead. Had her experience been greater, she would have formed no such extrav agant expectations; had she been less selfish and more conscientious, she would have found abundant occupation and opportunity iu filling he rouud of duties, »nd taking advantage of the chances for pleasuae afforded her. Bat the word duty had no place in her vocabulary; she ‘hated it,’ she said, prettily, though petulantly, and her husband laughed at her until he found her growing moody and cross, dwelling with bitterness upon what was out of her reach, and neglecting the good that lay close to her hand, a pd which only needed its touch, as that of a divining rod, to have started springs of sweetest refreshment, that would have fed her whole life with blessing. Even the advent of children male little change in the temper and spirit of her mind; it only intensified, if anything, her morbid craving and bittterness. She did not want children, she as serted, and she could not bear to be ‘tied’ down to them; she did not want to spend her life washing children’s faces; she might as well be in a ‘nursery’ or a ‘hospital.’ All the sweet ties and affections which grow out of the household relations and family life were unrecognized by her, or, at least, found only such nourishment as they could catch in passing, and struggled on in a sickly, uncared-for way that gave little promise of healthy life in the future. Thehu.s- band began with sense and intelligence, and perhaps with desires for a cultivated life as strong and much more clearly defined than those of his wife, but gradually the foundations of his honor, his integrity, and high principles were sapped; his patience gavo out; he deter mined if he could not satisfy his wife iu oue way he would iu auotuer. He borrowed the money of his bank, without leave and entered into speculations. The first were successful, and the heart of the foolish, worse than foolish, wife was rejoiced by removal into a better part of town, by the acquisition of finer furniture, and the ability to vie with her neighbors iu ele gance cf dreis, and above all in opening her house for the entertainment of visitors. It is true there wes less satisfaction in these things than she imagined, but ber craving had not abated, and her husband made no objection to the expenditure of money. He never inquired what she did with what ne gave her, and sue did not Btop to inquire from whence it came; in fact she had an uneasy oonsoiousDess that all was not rigiit, and was afraid aud unwilling to veri fy her impressions. But there came a time when her dearly bought ease was disturbed by a shock as rude as it was unexpected. Her hus band had grown reckless, his defalcations had been discovered, he absconded with what mon ey he could raise, and she was left to the horror of her awakening. Too late , he saw what dis content had done for her, for her husband, and for her cnildren. How gladly now she would have gone back to the quiet of their first little home! how strongly she realized the possibili ties whioh had lain before her, had she then taken up her share of the burden of life and borne it bravely and patiently, waiting and working for what she wanted, instead of rebell ing agafnst destiny, and neglecting the oppor- Last June, while travelling in Franoe, I spent a few days at the chateau of a Breton friend. It was a venerable, castl' -like building, surround ed by moats, with draw-bridges and lodge gates with turrets aud arches, all muffed iu ivy and dark with the stains of time. We drove up be fore it in the iovely calm of a June sunset, while the chapel bells were ringing the evening Angelas and the air, heavy with oders of heather aud fern and broom, wa3 stirring the leaves of the fine, old trees surrounding the chateau. A short pause, the creak of the old lodge gates thrown back, another stoppage at the first moat, the rattle over it, one more draw-bridge, with its bolts and claiLS clanking ghostly, a deep-toned bell iu the old tower booming through the silent air, the scream of the startled peacocks from the magnolia thicket, the baying of the hounds in the kennel, the big boar hound m-jestically stretching himself and coming to meet us, a pet white fox terrier rushing from the s'ables in wild delight at getting the horses home and possibly at the notion of supper, the old oak door opening studded with nails like smoothing irons, lights gleaming and tbe family headed by the venerable marquise, advancing from under the arch to meet tis. leaning on the arm of her great-g audson, a rattle of the ste( s, oi e bound, and again I form part of the group of those I love so well. How swiftly and merrily the days glide by ! Even Sundays, usually supposed to be some what dull, partook here of the general happi ness. Early mi.ss said in the beautiful little chapel belonging to the house, in the afternoon vespers and benediction in the parish church beyond the river—a visit or two—a few friends to dinner, and that day was over. How 1 loved that ohapel, all old oak, save the broLze stations and marble altar, with ils pic ture of Notre du Chene above ! Oue night, I lingered in the lovely chapel af ter the r. st of the family had retired. A simple vax candle burned on the Pre Dieu, bat the moonbeams, falling through the old Gothic win dows, were all the light I wanted in the mood of meditation and memory that had come over me. I was roused to a smse of the laten ss of the hour by a clock striking twelve in deep tones that reveibrated through the building. Start ing up, I saw that the candle had burned down and expiredinitssilverscoi.se. “3 o 1 night, sweet. Madonna,' I Slid to the fair mater that smiled at me in the faint moonlight, as I left the chupei and made my way to my own, room. I found it dark except for the moonlight that s.ole turough a parted curtain, but I knew that a box of match s was on the table and candles ip-ere iu the jbteu^e candelabra an the m^atle- piece. ^ sj y I closed and locked the door gently, though as all doors and stair.? do wheu they should be silent, it groaned uneasily, but before looking for the matches I thought I must gaze out of the open wiud.w and just enjoy onexmore scented bre.-zs from the magnolias beyond. Reluctant ly at last I turned away from the lovely scene, aud previous to shutting out the moonlight, it occurred to me that I had better find the matches. I ad van od toward the little table next the carved stone mantelpiece; it was usually placed in front of a door which I had been told only led outside on to the roof—presumably for re pairs—and which was never opened. Merciful powers I the table was moved and I that door was njar. I looked in from my room down a long ghost ly passage inhabited only by the deaf marquise, who snored like an asthmatic png dog, and fat old rats scampering about. I shivered all over and felt line a ghost my self. ‘Stuff and nonsense,’ X angrily exclaimed, ‘I must find the matches, and now that I have the chance I will investigate that passage; possibly the match box may be by the bedside.’ In the shadow of the deep alcove there stood the huge bed. Moving toward the recess I saw a3 plainly as you, reader, see this page, the fig ure of a tall woman arrayed in white with a broad green scarf oaielessly knotted round her waist, ber tiny white feet that looked like bits of sculpture peeping from beneath the hem of her garment. She was leaning against one of those twisted oak columns which apparently supported the alcove, her blond cendre hair falling like a cloud aronnd her and the moonbeam revealing to my startled guze a deep crimson stain extending down the left side. Thinking it might be a trick I looked for the blue eyes, which are as great a peculiarity in that family as is the blond cendre hair. There were no eyes, only two deep hollows. I rubbed my own to be certain I was not dreaming, and when I ventured to look again the fignre was passing through the door way and I heard the door close evidently by a spring. I bangei at it. Nothing but an echo. I rushed across and unlocked mv own door. Nothing but the snores of Madame La Marquise and the obligato accompaniments of the fat rats. I found the matohes which were on the floor un der the fable. I lighted all the oaudles, and leaving them burning, I tucked myself up in the alcove, with not so much as the tip of my nose to be seen, and it was not until the July sun was streaming in that I dared think even of sleep. What should I say to my friends at breakfast? Could the apparition have been a mischievous trick, or Wi.s it a bona fide ghost, were the ques tion that perplexed my pnzzled brain, as I was putting on my travelling costume, for I was to leave directly after breakfast. Down I went, and was greeted, as usual, with only the addi tion of affectionate regrets concerning my de parture. It must have been a ghost, so bravely 1 dashed headlong at that supposition. Bites done cherie, who was the young lady so like you leaning up against the column of the alcove in my room last night, and who had left the door you told me was never unlooked, ajar ?’ said I to my young friend. A dead silenoe followed this abrupt question, and oue of the footmen nearly landed a dish of asparagus on the top of the oap of Madame La Marquise. The oomte recovered himself first, and replied in that calm way so peculiarly his own. ‘Was it not La Sainte Godelieve yester day ?' I had forgotten all about it. It really is too bad chere Madame, not to have warned you. She was a wicsed young ancestress of mine' aud her husband, Barthulphe, in his eagerness to get baok from the taking of Jean d’Aore on thf fete day of his wife, preceded his retainers and gained entrance into the house through the ohapel of which he had the key. He knelt a moment previous to banging up his oross-hilted sword over his own stall after the manner of crusaders, and while so doing he saw his young wife hurriedly cross the ohapel. He followed and eventually beheld her leave a room which certainly was not her own. He sprang on he*, and there and then thrust his gauntletted fingers into her eyes—a savagery he had learned from the Turk—dragging her along that passage aud opening the door he flung her on the floor of your room leaving his jewelled dagger plunged in her heart. My ancesters knew these details some years after, for Bertulphe, distract ed bv remorse, wandered hither and thither all over Europe, and flna'ly founded an abbey in Fiandtrs about the thirteenth century, but before dying made confession of his deed. As we all know, on Saint Godelieve’s day tte unhappy spirit always reappears, and not one of us would sleep iu your room on that partic ular night for the whole universe, and I cannot imagine why none of us recollected the day. Tact being a virtue I merely said, ‘Tiens how very pleasant l and I leave it for you, reader, to decide whether I really saw a ghost. THE CHURCH. • Dcings and sayings In the Re ligious World. Dr. John H. Vincent wrote: The memory of Atlanta is very precious. It was probably one of the most enthusiastic and i: spiring, and prac tically helpful of all national and international conventions which have baen held in America. I trust that the same fervor and -ffaotiveuess may characterize your meeting in New Orleans. The self-denial and salf-oontrol enjoined by a religious life, together with the general conflict with temptations, afford a constant and vigorous discipline for the will. Tbe Bishop of Montreal has issued a circular forbidding ladiis to belong to Cbnroh choirs af ter the 1st of June next. Mauy Catholio Churohes have anticipated the ordtr by dismiss ing lady singers. Nothing is so infeotious as example, and we never do great good or evil without producing the like. We imitate good actions by emula tions, and bad ones by tbe evil of our nature. Near the site of Jacob’s well, in the city of Samaria, Palestine, there is a Baptist Church with a congregation numbering a hundred. Of the revival meetings in Baltimore, it is said: For many ysars past there has not been so general a religious interest in Baltimore. In every part of the city special religious services have been held. Even the Ritualists have be gun meetings after the Moody fashion, and sing some of the same hymns.’ An eccentric prea;her is often the life of a country neighborhood, and bis sayings and do ings are lovingly remembered long after he is dead. A sensational oue would be booted out of a village before the shoes were old that brought him into it. Akers and Cartwright, bold, rugged men both, are eccentric, an I the West has brought forth many such; but the sen sational variety is a sickly breed, nurtured in variety and often inanity, playing its antics be fore a disgusted community, and pleading its excuse that such means are necessary to draw the gaping crowd which waits UDon i s minis- trations. Oat upon it I It is a‘standing blot upon our Christianity That only :s easy which at first was bard. The artist paints grandly and with ease; the musician plays with power and grace; the orator pours forth enrapturing eloquence wlin marve lous faoiiity—yot all this is the result of agoniz- iug struggle. Thus the duties and burdens of religion become easy to tbe gentle, docile, spirit and obedient soul. Eater in then at the strait gate. It is ‘strait only against your carnal hindrances. Divest yourself of these, and strive to enter in. The Bible has been translated into two hun dred and twelve languages, thirty-nine of which have never before been written. Neglect your devotion one dav, and you will notice it in your inner spirituai consciousness Neglect it two da;s, and those most intimate with you will be oonscious of the change. Neg lect it three days, and the world will notice it in the decreased fruits and power of your life. Aunt Samantha on Women Voting. She Believes in it, ‘I don't believe wimmen ought to vote ’ ex claimed Belsy B. 8 ' eX •Nor I nuther,’ says Josiah. ‘She hain't got therekrisite strength to vot«; she is too fraguile ’ Just at this moment the boy that takes the milk came along, and Josiah, says he to me ‘I am in iny stocking leet, Samantha, won’t you jest step out and help i’homas Jefferson on with IQ6 O&D r to r fra guile to handle a paper poaAiTmiu!“‘ ‘ ““ f “ 80,la '» “« 1“ * m * ^ ^ ^ ^ • • yote /°" have 8 0t t0 go before a iould be. 1 * 611 ’ aU<1 h ° W tryiD ’ t0 d «l ioa °y ‘bat •I went before a board of men when I joined the meetin house, and when I got the T Bfni in “!i f0r my ./ a 8 oarpet. and I still live, and I still call myself a respectable character, but’ 7 am , of oiicoocealed sarcasism, ‘if 1 these delicate characters are too modest to go in broad daylight armed with a umbrella, be- i fore a venerable man setiia’ on a board, let ’em have a good female board to take their votes. sayl b0 ‘ aWfal t0 haV ® a femala boaf d ?’ ‘Wimmen can be boards at charity sohoo’s i and they can be boards at fairs and* hospitals and peoitentiarys and picnics and Afrioaumis- sions, and would it be any worse to be a board before these delicate wimmen?’ says I almost V thfhon^to 1 8Cream ’ or Ba P ti8t watermelons* by the hoar to a promiscuous crowd * * -aassrijssi tirstts* Says J, ‘Wimmen find time for their e^o.i» . in iattin’ and oroshain*. They find rxi Ve ? aSt / time for their mats, aud their tidvB d fK P x° f tions. their feathei flowers fllrta ‘ hair flowers, burr flowers and nri. b f a , d fljwe ' 8 ’ and Grecian paintins, and face painfins^Thev spend more time a-frizzin’ their x - T£ ey • wh. .is t <, through tbe fence. 'So d i “ .7 r.r, abort—bo abort It dld ? ot g o roSod"" ; not pray for wealth; only to he nU^IT® 1 *’ 1 d .° length of some man who hw g^t * said anEoghsh traveller to^TT 1 * aroand here,’ tier girl, as she was mi.? a ^ n, *ed States fron- ‘There are plenty of them. D refuroid^ br *“ d ' ing some corn meal inrrT.i- returned she, ponr- i».v. r«. Stsxa^j