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AFTER TWENTY YEARS.
BY N Y.S.
What is left after twenty years?
What shall we do when youth is gone?
What can atone for hopes that are flown?
Count them, love, if smiles or tears
Have been our lot, most, all these years.
Scarce we knew, how the first ones flew,
On wings of love, as we idly lay
Under the hawthorne, blithe and gay;
Watching the robins flitting through,
We never knew how the first years flew.
Sunbeams kissed your nut-brown hair,
Sunlight played on your soft brown eyes:
They looked so wise in their glad surprise,
So young and fair, so debonair.
When flrst I stroked your nut-brown hair.
See! the lillies blend with the roses
On your cheeks, as they did that day;
Fly, Youth, away! love still shall stay,
Safe and sound, when he yet reposes,
Deep in the heart of the red May roses.
Yes, I would, and again would you
Follow the robin’s sweet unrest;
Follow to find his quiet nest,
With never a thought but just to woo,
With never a dream what love might do.
I see no change in your dear, kind face,
No change in the waves of brown and gold:
The same lithe form 1 dared to fold;
Time wears no trace in your womanly grace,
I could not, or would not love your face.
No vain regrets have we to say.
Many kind deeds have we to do!
Though wed, still woo, still love pursue,
If we but watch them day by day,
To hear what both our hearts shall say.
Don’t grieve, my love! we re trusting to
The coming years to be more blest
Than those that lie in a lowly rest;—
<On hawthorne, robins still have their nests)—
What more would you have, love, what shonld
you do?
But love me always as I love you?
DESDICHADO,
An Historical Romance.
BY JO BEAN.
CHAPTER m
And one morning when the bright sunlight
was streaming throngh the open windows, and
gladdening all the earth, the attendants roused
the captive early and dressed him with unusual
care, for that day they told him would celebrate
bis combat with Yidemar for the princess. They
clothed Sir Blondel in hue linen, they brought
his armor glittering and with the blood stains
washed away.
The knight breakfasted lightly, but he had a
merry heart, for he had be9n long at his orisons
and felt hopeful of the combat ending in his tri
umph. But the exci emnnt and suspense, with
the ohilly morning air weighed upon his frame,
he paced the floor to resist the cold, but as the
minutes dragged by slowly he became so ner
vous and impatient, that hiB strength seemed
wasting away. But at last a mighty bell tolled
solemnly and at intervals, and the summons
came for the ohampion to make ready.
Sir Blondel was «tlad in hi': armovtsd closely
guarded wes conducted by a winding defile, un
der heavy walls to an immense bolted gate, and
then having plaoed him on his noble war horse
and handed him hia trusty lanoe, the darling of
formne was once more going forth to honorable
and glorions combat.
Meanwhile, sinoe early dawn the castle had
been aglow and astir with excitement. The
lists in the courtyard, long nnnsed to a scene of
snch order and decorum, had been thrown open,
and inmates of the castle and retainers of the
neighborhood, had been snrgiog in to secnre the
best positions for witnessing the combat. The
courtyard was not lacking in splendor for the
marauders of the castle in their frequent Beiges
of plunder had brought away not only gold and
silver, but rich garments and tapestry and treas
ures of art and refinemeut,and courtezans, who,
attracted by the power and display, returned
with the captors to spend a life of licentious
abandonment And so the courtyard presented
a mixed and gandy scene, with its rich decora
tions, its flags of different colors and its galler
ies rising tier above tier.
And from the sea of eager faces stared brutal
countenances, fierce from accnBtomed scenes of
cruelty, shameless faces hardened by the play of
passion, pale faces saddened by regret and pret
ty, ruddy facea not yet so stamped with crime
but that a change of life might give them back
the image of their maker.
And high above all others, in the station as
signed to royalty, and with a vacant seat by her
side, Bat the princess surrounded by officers and
women of tie cestle, while her eyes ever changed
from supplicating glances at heaven, to the far
end of the lists where her knight was to appear.
A single herald stood at Sir Blondel’s station,
while Yidemar, olad in splendid armor, stood at
the opposite end grimly biting his lip. He was
snrronnded by fifteen mailed attendants while
marshals rode up and down the lists.
At a given signal from Yidemar, hiG herald
advanced into tne midst of the arena, and bar
ing his head cried aloud, that Yidemar, Baron
of Chalnz, here in the presence of God and man,
olaimed the peison ot Berengeria of Navarre,
and was ready to do battle with any or all who
should oppose his claim.
The herald retired and in the awfnl interval
of inaction that ensned, the soul of Berengeria
sank within her, and she murmured:
‘Great God 1 has he been murdered in his
cell?’
But at that moment another herald rode forth
and, as if oowed by his mission, muttered so in
distinctly a reply, that although the princess
exerted her hearing Bhe could not catch his
words.
The second herald withdrew and at the in
stant of breathless anxiety, the heavy door flew
open and the knight, glistering in thesnnbeams
like a stream of fire, dashed into tbs plain, until
reaching its centre, he halted his gallant steed,
and, as if unconscious of all else, gazed long
and fervently on the prinoess.
There is no heart that can be wholly dead to
honor if its finer chords are touched. As that
single man rode forth, fearing and yet fearless
ly, into the presence of those sixteen tyrants
who grimly stood awaiting him, with no one on
his side bat the most wronged and beautiful of
women and the great God; in the dense mass of
people that railed and hissed against him, there
was many an eye moist with tears, and many a
heart that silently sent np its prayer to God for
that brave man.
But every motion, every look was watched,
sympathy for the oppressed must beat in its own
bosom, and thus it was that silently, eo silently
that many could hear the beating of their own
beans, he rode aooording to custom around the
lists and having taken his stand at the lower
end, awaited coming action,
The signal was waved, and on the instant
both urged their horses under way.
Yidemar's horse plnnging wildly seemed to
concern his rider in bis maLagement, and dashed
more than half way over the plain before he en
countered his adversary.
Sir Blondel joyed to feel his trusty charger
sway to the least pressure of the rein, and start
ed firmly ever increasing his speed, while his
whole effort was expended in poising his body
and couching his lance. At a few paoes from
his enemy, he seemed to whirl right into him,
while his lanoe, whioh was aimed at Yidemar's
head struck heavily and then gave way.
As Sir Blondel’s horse recoiled, and his own
person felt a heavy shook, he for the instant
considered himself wounded.
The olond of dost hid the result, but clearing
away, showed Yidemar and his horse stretched
npon the ground.
For some time they lay stunned and motion
less, until Yidemar recovering, straggled to his
feet, and daawing his sword, staggered toward
the knight, who, unsheathing his own blade,
awaited his opponent. But before Yidemar
oould reach the knight, Sir Blondel was Beized
by soldiers from behind, while Yidemar, who
continued to advance, was likewise caught, as
he frantically cried;
‘She will scorn me, loose me, I will kill him !’
‘Not here, my lord,’ replied his officer, 'this is
a field of honor.’
‘Honor,’groaned Yidemar, wringing his hands,
‘speak not of honor, she loathes me,’ and then
as a paroxysm overcame him, he straggled to
free himself,as he shrieked, ‘loose mo,they both
shall die.’
‘So they shall, my lord, if you command it,’
answered his officer, ‘but not on this field.’
Yidemar said no more, for the removal of his
helmet disclosed a fearful wound and he sank
insensibly into the arms of his retainers who
bore him away.
On being seized, Sir Blondel tnrned and de
manded his lady and their freedom. He opposed
their oppression and an he looked where he had
last seen Berengeria, he now gazed only on her
vacant seat. He threw off and struck down sev
eral of his assailants, bnt to no purpose, for
overpowering him, they dragged him off and
finally plunged him, wretched and bleeding,
into his former dismal cell.
The lady likewise had been seized and borne
to her apartment, where withont a word of ex
planation, she was left.bereftof hope and almost
of reason. In vain did she plead with her op
pressors, no answer was retnrned, and as the
door closed the only sound to her heartrending
appeals was their own dismal refrain.
Oh God! send either Blondel to relieve my
sufferings or death to end them.’
Despair, the despair of a great and breaking
heart, seized upon her, she paced the floor call
ing on the knight, calling on her father, calling
on her God. Bnt by degrees her. throes of an
guish abated, and while it seemed as if no smile
of hope oould ever light those lovely features
again, the spirit of her father rallied her aod ad
monished her to prepare as a mighty prinoess
for her last great ohange. She sank upon the
oouob, her large eyes closed and her lips mur
mured :
‘Noblest and grandest image of your maker, a
brief farewell; if your proud spirit has flown
my own shall shortly join thee, or shonld I first
be summoned, my soul shall linger to keep
watch as your better angel until our commun
ion is eternal. And my own mortal form, fare
well. Oh, imperial brow on which the eare and
coronet of a kingdom would have rested, thou
shr.it sbep in the dust ere time has farrowed
thee with a scar. Oh, golden hiir, that would
have sparkled with a diadem, thine own blood
is all that will ever adorn thee now. Brief yrars
of joy, long days of wee release me to join that
father, whose memory thrills me with fervor
even on the brink of death.’
She knelt and raised her soft, pleading even
vie-keaT-taj*. '
‘Father Af the fatherless and G >d of the for
saken, I cast my bnrden on thee. Oh, sustain
me in my garden of Gethsemane, and prompt
when to strike the blow, so that the act shall be
one of justice and not suicide.’
Rising, she drew the gleaming dagger from
her girdle.
‘Last and coldest of my friends, be trne when
I shall need thee and drink warmth from out
my breast. We shall grow closer, aye, ranch
closer ere we are parted. Be trne and I shall
bless thee. He gave me life and thou shalt give
me liberty. ‘
It was with this resolution taken and her faith
awaiting an answer to her prayer, that she heard
approaching footsteps, and calming herself she
awaited their entrance.
The heavy bolt was withdrawn, the door
opened and a friar entered.
‘Daughter,’ he said ‘I bring tidings from his
lordship,’ and then hesitated as if his task were
one of pain,bnt after a moment’s embarrassment
he eontinned:
‘Are you resigned to the will of Heaven ?’
■Insnlt not heaven sir, 1 she answered, ‘by rep
resenting your master as its excecutive. But
you have something to communicate, state yonr
mission and leave me to my solitude.’
‘My mission lady,' answered the friar,’ is to
take yonr last confessions and offer np yonr
latest prayers, for it i3 decided’—his voive fal
tered ‘it is decided that yon die tomorrow morn
ing, and the charges preferred against yon will
then be read in yonr hearing,’
Berengera did not start or sigh, only a pallor
as of death suffused her face as she thought of
this last public ignominy, and she murmured:
‘Ah me, will they never weary of my suffer
ings? but,’ she added raising her voice, ‘I have
borne so much, I trust God will enable me to
endure all,’ and then in a tone of deepest con
cern she addressed the priest, ‘and what of the
captive Anight?’
As she thought of Sir Blondel living on and
perhaps happily withont her, the womanly in
stincts overpowered the princess, and she burst
into tears from very self pity.
‘He, daughter,’ echoed the friar, ‘dies at the
same hour with yon, and I am also ordered to
oondnet yon to his presence, where you can re
main until the hour for death,’
■And will you sir,’ asked the princess, ‘render
to an unfortunate woman,yonr last and most ac
ceptable servioe by taking me now to him ?’
The priest bowed and was advancing to offer
his arm when Berengeria rising, haughtily,
waved him oft
‘Advance Bir,’she said, ‘and youroaptive will
follow you.’
As she crossed the threshold after the priest,
two melancholy guards standing outside fol
lowed her, and seeing how they guarded a wo
man, Berengeria could not suppress a littie
smile of disdain. On through the lonely halls
and down the narrow stairways, the princess
went with her keepers until they stopped be
fore a heavy door. The friar fitted a key, then
turned and addressed the prinoess:
Shall I enter and confess yon both ?’
‘Sire,’ she answered ‘to yonr master or his
retinue I have nothing to confess. Left alone
with my knight I trust to make our peace with
God.*
‘.Be it so then,’ he answered. ‘Break to him
the news that he mast die,for as yet he knows it
not. No one shall disturb you until morning,
and should you like to rest, the one door from
yonr room will oondnet you to a small apart
ment’
Having said this, the friar admitted Berenge
ria and then closed the door. Until now she
had not realized her situation. In the pres
ence of a wonnded knight she was alone, her
mission being to inform him ot his sudden vio
lent death.
As she looked npon the martial, though pros
trate form before her, and felt herself under the
spell of that strange nature whose spirit
knew no fear, her heart yielded to his
power and she stretched her arms toward
him, who was so soon to be the bridegroom
of death. But perceiving that he was
not aware of her presence,as his face was turned
away towards the open wiadow, she collected
her strength and walked np to his conch.
Sir Blondel with scornfni indifference never
turned at the opening of his door to observe the
guards who came to mock or question him, and
he moved not now, until hearing gentle foot
steps, he looked that way and seeing the prin
cess, he joy fully exclaimed:
‘Great God ! is it my darling, or an angel ?’
‘Alas !’ she murmured to herself, ‘it is the an
gel ot death,’ and then raising her eyes. ‘Oh!
God, pity ns, we are so young to die, ‘bnt as
she cangbt the fond, loving expression of the
knight, she rushed to his embrace, and her
head rested where alone it oould find rest, on
his noble breast. And as she thought of so soon
quitting him and the world, she wept as a child
weeps for its broken toy, while Sir Blondel
eonld only gaze npon her tenderly and stroke
her silky, golden hair. Bnt the moment passed
and with it her weakness. Raising her head,
her hand remained in bis, w&jte seating herself
on the coach beside him, she said:
‘After hoars of thought and dreams about you,
I come my lord to inquire for yonr health.’
‘Ah my being of beauty and bliss,’ he an
swered, ‘promise not to leave me again, and 1
shall nevermore suffer or sigh.’
•I shall not leave yon,’ she answered assnr-
ingly;’ then as he pressed her hand tc his lips
she continued, ‘Blondel we have made together
one brief and painfnl journey, and tomorrow
we mast rally and go forth once again.’ As she
saw the light of joy kindle in hi'- eyes her voice
trembled. ‘This journey also will he short and
trying bnt we go a mighty distance; all the way
from earth to heaven.’
For an inffant the knight did not compre
hend her meaning, bnt as its fatality burst up
on him he sprang np aDd exclaimed:
•What deos he dare !’
Gently laying her hand npon his arm, Beren-
gera whispered:
‘My lord,our few remaining'Soars must fit ns
to approach the king of kings and not be spent,
reviling an earthly monster.’
‘it is trne, ‘ answered the knight solemnly and
he sank back on the oonch.’ Yon mast teach
me to fight the hardest of all battles in rating
my own spirit. Ah eonld I have fallen as a he
ro, could I have perished as a martyr and had
my lest look rest on yonr freedom! bnt to die
all in vain, and see my idol struck down by
traitors—.’ He bowed his head and his whole
frame shook with emotion. That which quench
ed his spirit, quickened hers, and her voice was
clear and ringing as she said:
‘Do me the justice to know my lord, that
withont yon, the fairest spot on earth would be
an exile and captivity. Aud how now, doe3 the
spirit of my hero, that strove so valiantly in the
sunshine, fall back in the evening shadows on
the woman whose fate he deplores ?’
‘A e yon not my all ?■ answered the knight,
‘and where else should I seek for comfort ?‘
•In my breast,* replied Beringeria, ‘whioh
having yon for its lord, beats more proudly
t.'.is moment than any cn a gilded throne. Bnt
think, not only my love but my pride is abid
ing on your action. 'As you acquit yourself,
Berengeria and her cause is honored or dis
graced. Ronse my lord, shake off this drowsy
stupor, and defying all that is mortal, die de
priving yonr enemies of a single look of pain.*
‘Bit st angel of mv better nature, ‘ he answered,
as he imprinted a kiss on her brow, ‘yon have
redeemed, me and I shall prove worthy of my
princess —
with you in
xoiteAreiiT
thought, and had I fallen, G-a would have
looked in mercy, npon the impetnons warrior.
Bnt (his solitude and contemplation, will the
great king of heaven accept the sacrifice of oon-
fasiou.’
Remember,’ answered the princess assnringly,
‘that yon are going to one who soeth, not as man
seetb. Who has borne yonr weakness and for
given it, so rest on our great father Christ.’
‘Princess Berengeria,’ he fervently asked,’
‘will you kneel with me and pray for yonr
knight ?’
They knelt together and the sad, gentle voice
of the princess, breathed this prayer, that God
would lead his suffering, wayward children
through the dark valley of the suadow. ‘Defend
oh Lord, this the child of thy son. Extend thy
mercy to the extent of this dreadfn! hoar. Give
thine angels special charge to keep bim until
he is called into his everlasting home.’
She rose from that prayer fearing and yet
hopeful, for dnriog its utterance every wrong
was forgiven,every hate subdued. Earthly hopes
had vanishe ', but heavenly peace was instilled
and the final victory was won. He did not speak
of the prayer bnt his long gratetnl look express
ed his thanks, and a pause of reflection ensned,
until he said:
‘I deplore the weakness, I was guilty of, al
though it was not craven fear bnt the crashing
of eternal hopes connected with yon.’
‘Do not oar spirits ascend together,’ asked
Berengeria, and the love I bear you will survive
ail eartnly pangs, and with me enter heaven?*
‘Ah!* he mnrmured, ‘the entrwiiceto that dark,
mysterious world, where they neither marry or
are given in marriage, shall we know each other
there ? Oh grant my last and greatest request.
SaDctify the devotion of our young lives. No
priest is here to bless our union, bat God is
oar witness. Oar vows are taken iet ns offer
them to God, and enter heaven as man and
wife. ‘
The knight clasped the hand of the lady, and
again they knelt alone in that death chamber,
and in clear solemn tones be mtered his vow of
fealty, and then her voice sounded eternal love
and devotion to him, and when it hnshed again,
he uttered a fervent prayer, that God would
bless the union, and together receive their
sonis.
They arose and as he kissed her brow he said
‘Mv angel bride has made her hnsband an
heir of heaven and taught him resignation.’
‘Could yon not rest ?‘ asked the prinotss, as
she looked on his pale, haggard face, ‘yon are
weary and wonnded. ‘
*1 am weary*, answered the oaptive, ‘but I
cannot rest. My head! my head!‘ and be press
ed his hands to his burning brow, wounded in
the morning's straggle.
‘I will pay my last duty to my poor wonnded
knight, ‘ said the prinoess gently, and filling a
little basin with water she took his head npon
her breast, while her soft hand bathed his throb-
fa ng temples. Beneath this soothing the rest
less mind found repose, and at length Sir Blon
de! slept as peacefully as in his childhood. Tire
princess removed his bead to the pillow and
stooping down to impress her last kiss upon
his brow she softly sang:
Soft be thy last sleep when cold earth is thy pil
low,
And earl h’s sons are weeping and sad o’er thy loss,
God’s mercy has snatched thee from life's stormy bil
low,
With thy youthful heart spotless, like his of the
cross"
Then ever turning to gaze back on the mar
tial form which now composed her all of exist
ence, she retired into the anteroom and sought
rest npon the rnsben couch. At length she too
was calmly sleeping, and only the final pang
awaited the lovers, That sleep of oblivion was
a gracious dispensation from heaven, for sorely
sufficient unto the day had been the evils there
of, and the morning wonld dawn upon trial
and sorrow,
(To be continued.)
Religious Spirit of the Times,
In a thonghtfnl article in the Examiner and
Chroniole of May 15th, Prof: Andrews, of Ham
ilton N. C. discusses ‘Skepticism in Colleges.*
After pointing out the fact that skepticism has a
great variety of types, ranged between self-oon-
scions misgiving, and the most deliberate infi
delity, the writer defines the student type as
skepticism of intellectual suspense and of this
type says:
As snob it may be simply a transition stage in
one’s thinking. It is no proof of a bad heart,
and it is not to be judged so severely as the skep
ticism of disbelief. The one is in solution; the
other has erystalized. The skeptioism of mere
suspense is that whioh rather doubts the evi
dence of truths than the troths themselves; or
ooncerns itself, it may be, only or chiefly with
the prevailing modes of representation, and
quest ons the truthfulness of oertain forms of
conception in whioh one has been reared.
Similar doubts and questionings are wont to
arise wherever a growing intelligence begins to
test and prove all things. Impulses to restless
inqairy belong more or less to all normal devel
opment, and there are sonis in which a severe
straggle, a hazardous probation, attends the
passage from an accepted traditional belief to a
personal and real faith.
Among the causes of donbt in yonng men the
writer notes the fact that he lives too exclusively
in his intellect, and makes too mnch of mere
ideas. He is rather governed by reasonings
aud and imaginings than by moral feeling and
spiritual insight. He is apt to consider reason
as the only, or the highest test of trnth, which
it is cot. He exaggerates logieal relations, and
if anjthing seems illogical, often hastily rejects
it, not discriminating, as he will when older,
between what is illogical merely in form, and
whioh is unreasonable in matter and substance.
Men, whose ages have been conservative mast
not forget that in this very disposition in young
men to reaction against the past, lies the secret
of mnch of the world's progress hitherto.
Many valuable elements in onr modern civ
ilization oame in npon the world's life as start
ling innovations. The gain made by Christian
thinkers, in enlarged or modified oonoeptions,
in more clear and soientiflo apprehensions of
troth, has come in part from a spirit of tree re
ligions inquiry, animating men not satisfied
with the thought of the past.
These restless tendencies in the thinking of
young men are not peculiar to college life—they
appear everywhere. Never does skeptioism
more nearly answer to the original meaning of
the word, as denoting an inquiring, an investi
gating spirit. That (his questioning mood lends
special hazard to the moral probation of young
men most be conceded. One would not conrt
the risk for those who are dear to him, yet it
sometimes has its place among those things that
•work together for good.’ It is a critical period
in mental and spiritual history, but to one who
safely passes throngh it, belief has greater real
ity, tor it is a faith not inherited, bnt achieved.
He who has endnred this form of trial finds the
crown of life in an assured sovereignty over all
disturbing donbts throngh a firm and personal
grasp upon vital realities.
Farther on in this valuable paper, from whioh
we have space for bnt few more fragments, hav
ing raised the question whether student life has
in its nature, tendencies to skepticism, occurs
this brave and n:aDly statement:
■ True ^Wowleuge,- however widely extended,
has in it nothing inimical to faith. * If there is
anything in onr conception or onr interpreta
tions ot religions trnth that will not bear the
test of real knowledge as attained in every line
of research, it mnst give place, bnt nothing vi
tal will be hazarded. By all onr confidence that
God's varied revelations are thoroughly consist
ent, by the strength of onr conviction that he
formed the mind to know, and himself opeDS np
the treasures of knowledge to satisfy its capaci
ties, let ns be assured that there is no breach be
tween the intellectual and the spiritual, no an
tagonism between faith and knowledge.
It is sometimes thought that mathematical
studies tend to conflict with the acceptance of
those kinds of evidence on which religion rests.
We hold the very reverse of this. Undoubtedly
mathematics, like logic, requires definiteness of
conception, and consistency of thought. It is
impatient of all vagueness and unreality. Here
in, however, it is helpful to trne religion, as
distinguished from a false mysticism, and from
belief in any magical influence of religions rites,
or other forms of superstition. It leaves no
place for an opus operatum.
Mathematical study, it is trne, by strengthen
ing the reasoning powers, and demanding a
sonndly conducted demonstration which shall
omit no necessary step, tends to make the stu
dent lay greater stress on the importance and
necessity of proof, in every department of trnth.
It is often said that the tratba of religion cannot
be mathematically demonstrated, and in a sense
the statement is just. Yet it is only as we grant
oertain fundamental axioms, that even mathe
matical processes are conclusive. All the de
monstrations of mathematics absolutely depend
npon certain intuitions, truths not proved, but
seen in their own light; bnt the immense gener
alizations of the mathematician are not a pyra
mid resting npon its apex, for the axioms lying
at their base are at once firm and broad. So,
too, the chief verities of religion are supported
by intuitions clear and strong. Belief in God,
in immortality, in retribution, is rooted in pri
mary truths of the reason. How can one who
trusts the intnitions in mathematics, deny their
validity in the metaphysical and spiritual
realm?
Having considered the influence of ancient
classioal literature, with its exhibition of the
fact that the religions of Greece and Rome were
outgrown by their civilization; and having
pointed oat such differences in form and spirit
between classieal paganism and Christianity as
forbid the reasoning from analogy that the lat
ter may in like manner be outgrown, the writer
continues:
Bnt a more important consideration is the fact
that Christianity, unlike the religion of Greece
and Rome, has a historical foundation. It is
therefore rooted and grounded in the world.
Christendom had its mythology in the mediae
val legends, bnt even these were vastly Bnperior
in dignity and moral value to the classieal myths
hecanse back of them were the historic facts of
Christianity. The clearing away of the legend
left these facts undisturbed. The rising snn
may lift and dissipate the mists that cover the
face of nature, and the great features of the
landscape will stand out more clearly in their
majesty and beanty.
Christianity h a its firm aud immovable basis
in the life and death of Christ, as veritable events
of history. This is ils impregnable advantage
over any mythology or philosophy. We deal
not with 'cunningly devised fables,' not with
merely speculative ideas, however briliant, bnt
with t>nre historical faots, whose significance
oannot be denied or exhausted. Men cannot
dismiss Christ. The inquiry inevitably reoars:
'What think ye of him?' The underlying faets
are momentnons. If the fancies of mythology
had reality, they wonld be trivial in their im
port, but the faots of the gospel reoords have an
npwardand a downward reaoh, an extension as
wide as the universe.
321 it aud Hmnov.
Naughty, But Gneiss.
As hand in hand the happy pair
About the garden wAik,
She looks engrossed entire in his
Learned Geologic talk.
“And this,” says he, “is hornblende, love,
Of mica, here's a slice;
And that great boulder where we’ll sit
Is granite, dear, or gneiss.”
Then sit them down; his arms enfold
As tightly as a vise
Her slender waist; “Dear John,” says she,
“This rock is kind o’ nice.”
“A tale that is tolled”—A horse’s when he gets
through a toll-gate.
When a pretty girl is attired in a wine-colored
silk is she an intoxicating beauty?
An eat-joke—To ask a friend to dine with you at
a restaurant, and then leave him to pay for his own
dinner.
Change the epidemic around. Let the rich young
man skip off with the servant-girls, and give the
poor coachmen a rest.
The fact that there were 1,668 more boys than girls
born in Ohio last year would indicate that they in
tend to keep up the supply of office-holders.
\\ hen it gets so far that a young man borrows the
girl’s hairpin to pick his teeth with, it is a pretty
sure sign that the day is fixed.
“I’ll make you prove that,” said a man to anoth
er, who had accused him of thett. “Don’t,” said a
witty by-stander, “for you’ll feel worse after it
than you do now.”
There is absolutely no difference, says the Boston
Post, between a sharp and stupid editor. The first
has snap to his editorials, and the second has nap to
editorials, too.
A young lady ate half a wedding-cake and then
tried to dream of her future husband. Now she
says she would rather die than marry the man she
saw in that dream.
The new advertising dodge of the actressps is to
have a horse presented to them on the stage. We
wish some one would give Aimeea mule. Wouldn't
there be high kicking?
The Philadelphia Times has an article upon ‘‘The
Early Girl.” We respect the early girl, but we do
object to iier singing the “Swate Boy| and Boy” at
five o’clock in the morning.
A country negro rcently sent a reply to an invita
tion, in which he “regretted that circumstances re
pugnant to the requiescence would prevent his ac
ceptance of the invite.”
It is a remarkable fact, but experience has proved
it, that when a small boy goes around whistling “I
want to be an Angel,” it is always best to hide the
preserve jar in the deepest dungeon,
“Men,” says Adam Smith, “are naturally unsenti
mental. A man will scoop the bottom out ot an
egg without thinking that the mother of that egg
is perhaps a hundred miles away in the ram!”
“Doutbean editor!” shrieks the Boston Tran_
script. It’s all very well to say, “Don’t be an edi
tor,” but when a man gets to be too honest for a
preacher or a member of Congress, what is he to do?
Every once and awhile we hear of a California
woman killing a bear. This is all right. But we
challenge the world to ransack the pages of history
and show where a woman has ever got away with a
mouse.
“-Ajtii-fkai^iorse run fast 1 ) ’ asked a hoy of a milk
man the other morning. “No, sonny,” replied the
purveyor of aqueous lacteal fluid, “he can’t run
very fast, but lie can stand the fastestof any horse
you ever saw.”
“Brevier,” “Long Primer,” “Small Pica,” and “Pi
ca,” are the names of the four children of a Hawk-
insviile, Tenn., newspaper man. They were all ta
ken off to the font in small caps. The oldest has cut
a already.}
A newly married lady was telling another how
nicely her husbaud could write. “Oh, you should
just see some of his love letters..” “Yes, I know,’*
was the freezing reply: “I’ve gota bushel ot them in
my trunk.” Tableau.
The latest sentimental agony in songs is a tender
ballad beginning: “Who will come above m e sigh
ing when the grass grows over me?” We can’t say
positively who, but if the cemetery fence is in the
usual repair, it may probably be the cow.
An Iristi waiter at a dinner party complimented
a turkey in the following manner: “Faith, it’s not
six hours since that turkey was walking arouud
his real estate with his hands in his pockets, never
dhramiug what a purty invitashun he'd have to
jiue yees gintleman at dinner.”
A minister at a colored wedding, who wished to
be humorous, said: “On|such occasions it is custom
ary to kiss the bride, but in this case we will omit
it.” To which malignant remark the groom perti
nently replied: “On such occasions it is customary
to pay the minister ten dollars, but in this case we
will omit it.”
A woman of business that was, who told the doc -
tor he oughtn’t to charge her anything for attend
ing Bennie when lie had scarlet fever, because
thirteen of the neighbors’ children caught it from
him aud gave him lots of patients. She thought he
ought to be thankful to her, instead of bringing his
bills to her.
A lady a short time back presented a telegram at
a London post-office. The message was enclosed in
an envelope. On receiving it the official proceeded
to open It. “What are you about?” exclaimed the
jady. The clerk explained that he could not send a
message without first seeing it. “Then,’* observed
the lady, angrily, “do you suppose I’m goiug to let
you read my private affairs? I won’t send it at all.”
And forthwith she flounced out of the office.
You kissed me at the gate last night,
And mother heard the smack,
She says it’s naughty to do so,
So please to take it back.
I took it back, and then said she,
“You rogue, you stole another:
Please take it back.” I did, and then
I kissed her for her mother.
A tramp who lately called upon a New Jersey
farmhouse coughed in a manner which elicited the
sympathies of the lady who waited upon his wants
with bread and butter.
“You have an awful cough,” she declared.
“Yes’m,” the tramp replied.
“Consumption?” • *
“I shouldn’t wonder.”
“Is it hereditary?”
“I think so. mum. Me father was hung, and me
mother died in the poor house.”
Just as quick as farmer Jones painted his barbed
wire fence blue, plain blue, Farmer Smith's wife
swore she wasn’t going to be outdone, and the
fence around the Smith farm soon blossomed out
red, picked with white. Mrs. Jones wasn’t going to
have any of the Smith family put on airs over her,
and their blue fence was soon trimmed with gold -
leaf stripes. Smith trumped over by putting a gilt
ball on every barb; and Jones, when last heard from,
was painting weather vanes, gilt horses, peac. cks,
and lightning rod Mds all over his fence, and swear-
inghe’d beat the Smith family if he had to put a cu
pola and a bay window at every post, aud hang a
chromo every two feet along the line. We should
all pay more attention to the decoration of our
homes.