The Cardigan Observer and General Advertiser for the Counties of Cardigan Carmarthen and Pembroke

THE ONLY SON. Gazing back on years departed Sat a »other, lonely-hearted, Down her cheek sad tears had started, Wept /she for an only son; Not » word her lips were saying Bisons for her grief betraying; iJut her earnest heart was praying For her lost, forsaken one. letter cold the wind was blowing* C ;ld the weary heart was growings Port," > to Heaven her prayer still going, W.'pt, she for her only son. her >" cried she, watch thou er him, Srr ooth life's rugged path before hun, Soon to my fond arms reatof0 him Save my lost, forsaken one! While she wept, her hopes grew ^shtGr, "While she prayed, her heart grew lighter, Tempests could no longer fright her. Hoped she for her only son. Soon her earnest prayer was gran » God soon gave her what she In her arms she clasped, enchan > Her long-lost, forsaken one. YP, who walk through life despairing- N^ver hoping, ever fearing— Hear that mother's voice, all cheering, Telling of her only son! G-od is still His promise keeping, Hie kind care is never sleepJDg: Hope and pray, whenever weeping For some lost. forsaken one. n

THE STRANGE CLAIMANT; OR, TWICE WED. CHAPTER II— (Continued). THE sun was high in the heavens when the brigfc sounds of the music came across the water, and again called forth the inhabitants of Sandcombe to welcome, en masse, the returning couple. The style of music had been well chosen; at the starting, soft, persuasive, and cheering—-it was now lively, joyous, energetic feet moved involuntarily as the strains came nearer and nearer; young girls, who had hurried through their allotted duties to ret dressed and run down to meet the party on the beach, were already getting up impromptu dances; and the heads of the elder ones kept time to the measure to which they danced the infants in their arms; while the aged grandames—recognising the good old airs of their young days—beat their sticks upon the sands, and wagged their chins in sympathy. As the foremost boat rounded the projection, a loud cheer went forth from the assembled multitude; it was echoed by the boat's party, and the rocks and cliffs, taking up the rejoicing, prolonged and repeated the welcome. Amid sounds so hearty, Aaron Franklen leaped ashore, and handed forth his bride. No tears now; all radiant and smiling, Nelly answered with words, and nods, and hasty hand- shaking, the genuine congratulations of her friends and neighbours. Perhaps moved to milder thoughts by a distant sight of their happiness, perhaps in a changed mood, Meghorn did not trouble by his presence the wedding party, who were soon in the full enjoyment of holiday delights. There was no fashion—no great world, you know, to co nsult among the fishermen of Sandcombe, and so the bride did not run away the moment she had chan gad her dress. Nelly's, though it was pretty, and becoming, and suitable as could be, was not too fine to allow her to assist in the hospitable entertainment of her friends. Such a feast was spread as good taste and kindly feel- ing, though with but humble means, could command, and to these simple, hearty people it was a feast in- deed. Th en there was more music, and races were run by th e young men and there was some good singing among the girls, and dancing on the smooth level, where they played bowls and cricket. Then an ex- tensive and hospitable tea, and story telling—more singing and music and dancing, till the sun went down into tho sea, and the moon and stars looked out overhead. Then good nights were bidden, and good wishes passed. And, left at length alone, the young husband and wife, for the first time, closed their doors upon all the outer world to shut in to themselves their own world of hnoio. Dear Ndly is nestling her fair head upon the shoulder of her lover husband, whispering to him all her love, HS they stand together in the silent moon- f v >10! ,^° l°°k at that sweet face, with its masses or sou; h -ir, its half-closed, gentle eyes, and loving mouth, wouid think it could raise that storm upon the chff we bebOlld tins morning—could play, wilfully, deceit and fairness? u„ wilfully would Nelly have hurt aught that eathed or had a name. With as sensitive a heart, ,?Tln £ a nature, as ever belonged to woman, yet had 7 played that cruel, heartless, and deceitful thing, a coquette. natn1' u°W 80me people err in excusing by gaiety of of coquetr ^ou £ htlessnesB, *>y desire to please, the sin It has no excuse. thrmor'vf been *on £ alone in the world—that, £ "pendent spirit, she yearned for support, ,rcounselto others—that, eager for the i' f kind, she mistook (a fatal error) admi- ion for love, and angled for it; and tbat, withal, wif ^en^e simplicity was in itself so attractive, that ir1n»re ( meant only to be obliging, she conveyed the Eomething more: this might have nlft,e thnfl B- excUf6» if excuse there could be; but, I fePeolI' Durifr18 Vfnie- It is the destroyer of all realty* ofman's l ,truth; woman's greatest curse, the P° almost the corrupterof all innocence-I had ML. decency. taking twif^ Worth or sense will no more thin toyed th* u a C0(luette, with whom he has flirted S of eW h? would take to cord his luggaf thrown sn*PPed> and as the other. ae~-the one is as untrustworthy a reso ected*h^n°'1 ky nature nor habit a ° «o-bufc she* had played the feelingS °f ^Ind^eall know W *5 ill-temper and disagree^ w her lover, ahe perodttad the attentions of S»u the fair in an gw • S j £ °- Tded' ideed, little inducement to *umself in her way. +>.A Half in jeati h £ f vanity, she gave hm nob the an* denialn her power-praise of^er-own Wer; for it is certaiiy true. whatever young l^es J»y have read to tKoSSrj. that m*n seldom- god suit so replied to. Thus, from day to dr, from week to week, p»wn—a short absence f the young to* pouring it-till the da when, alarm^by^ore Passing importunity, Nlly told the dark b *tnnger who, to sa^'trujhalf scare going to be married. His rage and mdig at this announcement causl her to fr0m h Q( had nf-ver seen him eino.. f _ii 0f what ?oung Aaron knew sometf0*' but n h&l passed. a _.f i.. Bhl the villagers whc^1^ honest and BS? it: '> and the fUI?f never let thought filing as day's own light, L Sed • he was f'Vil approach the name of^^ j vjug of the too intent upon the finishing «d his Utte cot among the cliffs, wher he and, in dear prize, to give a thought > auf ?0 dear, hetheart of hearts, Nelly felt^e held him^0 aea thi Bhe even afford to trf> wlth°° irch ? Can »oes tbe lily, When handled,'fP0 retain the driven snow dare the contact ear handsome, intsct its whiteness? Young JF0T} wf„n;c maiesty active, athletic, but wanting in toned the lr^nce' which ha*f awed' S Of Dride too, fooi sh Nelly yet made her feelM1 o«■< £ ha; a man so much older, with s'h a *g and grand, should care to and WWt' h, kSjuS h'T"impl° oflMin8Vi ««'ed "ot gifM. K. Zao»™T'2or* SZS bracelrt, n s,e»t, CTeen »5T«1 It, Šhth eyes. that glittered like firejd ;t herself She kept it two days, but she taking it. She took it back to cjjg. go t^A6 t?,RCCePfc it. and she dashed • hfc hav the poId, rubies, and emeralds a aeen m}gbt ha™ nTLna\8rVn^b0tt0h0ftheanda'»en the foo,ish' lovbe u-n^ h°we" fje bless her face, and t '1 f :;Td b?sdeeP' ea"e8t fer, while away; when Shc felt:Hi^d^tecting arm jug- hated herself sti^ Siant took hiq lshfid a » jmbe, and the P'ep.r Lrt,;p,irlurfJfr0 ?an Oughts of him the myswyof the big, s^r-V ^.T„6," '"5lh°t«w "»'? f« tok lioLf' fD ^kose occupation hfi 0AtehtesfcT^en they, too, forgot f; of V?ning of the wedding, hov p J t that out-of-the-way little hoi>tbe 0 Day, started at the ha«h tones, which, with an oath at her tardiness ere she h^h° °^el?ended the order, demanded some brandy to» be sent in to the fireside, ln there," as the rude P01ntmg before him, strode on to the small parlour or tap r00m (for it was the only one), within. "It's Saul Meghorn come ack, she whispered to her husband; what on earth s he doing hereabouts again ? Spending his ? as he always does," growled her sp attend f.enough for us, wn't it ? and he hastened to attendhis guest. Take away the 1!8 • ill do. Leave me to myself! was the ,.0^ the stranger, as the obsequious host se ^or and a candle, and busied himself 1 J rangements of the room. 'M That'll SO al°D?ff Ts thJ«°lU7What viIe stuff is this you're brought m ast all done, then ?" Yes, captain a^™ teU the truth, I've been °"There go!tak,? °andle a^ay yonder's the X^^1 £ LaS.4p »"er and Meghorn reirained, hin upon his hands, from time to timeto the liquor- which he did 1,0 i.u0 beach n j at—then gazing moodily out towa a00(3e(j u over the wide ex- panse of ocean, no v? 8ame silver light which was rcstmfiT j Nelly'a soft tresses, mingling itself jn the pure slumbers of the fair young *»»■ CHAPTER III <W™s°*Taa aoRizoK. IT was a setting sun ff8SP wh0se' sleen» D3^r'ad brilliant hues, the placid ^°L70Tto thef Waves th^ ™ calm and ?r0m the of *he lofty cliffs, <« king of iV, the beauty of aDreadine th? town. Seturned fishermen we P • lr nets, or with their f1""8 r"dj th? ssssrggj——»Cisra xn or0fl8h8toMdi.WM T°ice 9ome fflr' a 8natch 0f ^?an.haiIin? to a fellow 5aihwr his solitary ^vourite old song, 10 COtt!boveinBeaWmMk,h n°oks and sheltered From the jej. brightest, the broad glow throug that fencJ^ shed a rich radiance on the jutting ro« half-open i 6 cofc on every side5 playing ove^ welcome^,™iture within, gave token of » made quite the twilight, now i turning chilly. n^f «M^eptable. < A plEVftnklen had taker, J- COmfort ifc was, to which < Aaron Ft*1jt now ^.r18 young wife. 1 Look v«d settle, the U C08y fireside'its amPl6 high-backed a.glitter witk'rubbcd chests, and rows of shelves, au Pewter and delf; and even j a copper .ftr permij^ion in those parts). t The door Sandco a peep into the adjoining chamber. jB_yo^be--noted for its cleanli- 1 ness as »» Iittle chamw"11 not find 80 Prefcty and ( tastefully bed win, The window \t». snow-white hangings, the neat a» bunch of stains, the sweet-smelling ( shrubs, ana de the j Autumn flowers in the glass jar, which. iewel.8tan)>»g-glass, take the place of scent-bottles. iashionabI^. and all the many trifling etceteras of pepf toilette. But Jt < aji that»» 8Potlessness and neat ar- rangement o the charm which is t»o ] often W»B" and fashion are united. AU a .»in its place, and ready to the hand for aB • Hot a curl-paper, not a cast- off shoe-tie, or a«oraefy perfection there is K Believe in « luxury which can excel such mi8tress The yo"Dle ia the 0 °f this pleasant home stood before a w» room, on which was spread diflu4W; to judge by th. odours w tim0 to"H themselves throughout the ropm, »9 Q g^tae she raised the lids of cer- tain pot* J t • that supper would be worth aimematter offers, marriage tries a woman in- «hant from the ftC°okin&- Nelly had come out triumph whatever ^fdeal, as I sincerely trust you allnC,v a housewife in £ be your quality. "Mrs Franklen' of years' experience, envied y°un*hlch were eeDft„.Certain articles of her furnish- %n. in that neighCaI rarities among folks cf her Among these w<J>°ulhood, and in those times. which, not to crowd a handsome chest of drawers, J,Suisbed post i6^e smaller chamber, occupied a f Dutch clock » he outer room, and over these a i™ honest face. Mother object of envy, displayed Many times had ( S when the shadftX*elly consulted it that evening, a° couid no lono *8 deepened ov6r the beach, and f°foW Bhe lighted a* distinguish the forms moving In e0 to and fro t0 i? lamP uPon the toble» and cea8ed „t make up W lhe door to look out, yet still could llloked so cheerine. ^ind to close it quite the light „ the rocky TWR8he knew, as a man mdke his way partly open, th3 f™* below. So it was left still aiore logs upon th 110 air was chilly» and she put Aaron's old CoJJ fire. settle; Aaron's f lttT, within its warmth, upon the shoes) lay on 3? old boots (cut down to house- dish cookmg tlo e hearth; it was Aaron's favourite the trim little at the fire and if you had asked in this home-jjj e» who made so prominent an object which so plenKfC'ure' waa that her favourite colour have told you, orned her dress ?—she would Aaron was 'ah is fynd of it." Sad then, J*- slowly round as it not ? that as the hands move as log after 1face of the little Dutchman, and I and a cloud consumed, the pretty face grew grave, quick footsteJ e UP011 it, which even the sound of a door, did not and the hasty opening of the Nay, that adl8Pel- v heart leap,«, ,en the cherry voice, which made her late!" even Here I am, Nell, I'm so sorry I'm Sad that did not chase away the cloud. she should w^id all h«r preparations for his welcome, all the warto*h°ld that which was more to him than It had b{* • and light, and good cheer on earth, room, and w1 custom to meet him half way in the give him J/th a kiss, that said more than words, to and led he IcOnae, as he folded his arms about her, Her he# ack to their seat beside the hearth. yearn in? „# yearned to do so now, with a double ing herself'61, his long absence; and she was punish- things, ani woefully. Why do women do these they knoJ. try those they love dearest, and whom Wiser i°ve them ? 2 cannot solve the riddle. The h. 8 fchftn mine have been puzzled by it. Nelly iu#^fc of the weary husband sank heavily, as > herself ^Slanced up on his entrance, and then busied He wJ her cooking. shoes atij*10111° the fire-place, and as he changed nis ally inajj* hung up his out-door clothes—sh« gener- how on doing this for him—he was thinking when hf; fop a man te be treated asif he were in fault, ao lone f d' ia ^act» been Tery nnf«rtunate to be kept He the home he was so fond of. the sftfM06 and sat down in his accustomed place on but ye* I am vexed, Nelly, that I was so late, the W ltnow it can't be helped. I'm bound to do He.» Can» y°u know, for your sake, aren 11 r her. ew her towards him as he spoke and kissed receiy^ 8^e longed to return it! but she only passively cel't <i -pM the embrace and said— late j.? *ou wean its through me you're obliged to be an»Ray> nay; now, my girl, you know I don't mean d°&« -te «rt. Don't take it th;t w.y: my Sk Hy, kiss me, and be yourself now. ihdl j COuld not resist that, but it was a very cool reply kn^d t0 his request. If the good husband had Wo°> how hard it was to make it so ^different, he and Id ha^e displayed less anxiety to make his pwce, of J?ot have entered so fully, perhaps, on the account fell had detained him. But he, g°*d ten • COuld little understand the strange mconsw- te!^8 of a woman's nature; and "he*, though £ .pould eat no more. t:n(r _ii t Then you don't like if, Aaron! after me taking all pains to get it on purpose foe you but'It isn't that, Nelly; the supper's good enough, It that." turned^awiiy from the table as he ^poke that might not see the moisture which, despite ^liness, had gathered in his eyes. • And she, as she rese from the table and began im- E^iately to clear awny the supper, turned aside her heM and smiled, yes— a triumphant smile. Vet her heart was aching, and never did she long >e to twine her arm, about his: neck.and k.ss the Sr sun-burnt face; she was only momentarily de- ^ing the bliss of reconciliation. • p Do TOu doubt the faithfulness of such a picture t 1 can only tell you it is drawn, line by^ne.from ^ture; and that it is tbus, day by {'our, that hundreds of women trite with the^test blessing Heaven can grant them-the love of an honest ^an. God alone knows why! Perhaps home would bb too near heaven, without alloy. It was not the first time Mrs. Franklen had played that pretty game of powir, and she was even now reckoning upon some fresh demonstration of warmth from her fond husband, under which she should gradually thaw her frosty demeanour, and be once more her genial self. But she was not to be gratified. When she returned from the outer place, where she bad desposited the supper things, she found that her husband, weary with the day's toil, had fallen asleep his head resting on his hands, folded on the high wooden arms of the settle. In a moment the woman stayed her quick footsteps on the floor; on tiptoe she stole to his side, placed baneath his head her folded shawl, shaded the lamp from his closed eyes, lifted from the fire a fresh log she bad just put on, which was beginning to crackle forth its noisy tale much too loudly. Then she would have seated herself opposite to him on the hearth, but she started up as the well-known creak of her old rocking chair reminded her of its obnoxious infirmity, and noiselessly she transferred herself to a low stool, where, with" cheek retting on her hand, she sat gazing into the deep hollows of the glowing embers, and listening to the soft breathing of the sleeper, with, who shall say, how heavy a self-re- proach ? But she had not seen the tear that made its way down the sun-burnt facet; she could not know the wordless blessing that went out from the heart of the man she had tended—not s • stealthily but that from his doze he had been awakened, yet excusably feigned the slumber which had purchased for him such tenderness. Fishermen are not ordinarily skilled in metaphysics and it is net wonderful if poor Aaron was somewhat puzzled at the strange inconsistencies of the woman he loved. Half an hour perhaps passed so, when, turning her head quietly, Nelly met her husband's eyes, wide open, and fixed upon her; in a moment she was on her knees, her head on his breast, his arms clasping her to him in a close embrace, and she sob- bing out her sorrow, and repentance, and love, all in a breath. Good, honest Aaron! the worst part of these per- formances was that her humil ty was so genuine, her love so humble and so flattering, in its penitence, that he would too often end by blaming himself, and by vowing to give her no cause for displeasure. These are but passing showers, you will say, and that, like sunshine after thunder, love seems brighter by contrast; but do not forget the ruin by which the scathing bolt has marked its course! Alas! the round face of the little Dutchman had beheld many such storms before six months had passed over the new home and each time the traces more enduring, the sunshine longer in returning. Incessant pricking of but a needlepoint would wear out the strongest; and it is no wonder if Aaron, good husband and honest man as he was, grew weary of these recurring fits of alternate fault-finding and selI. reproach. He lost faith in the certainty of home peace, in the worth of his ewn single-hearted devotion—nay, he ilmost doubted at times the reality of the love which could voluntarily inflict such pain. Still, these were exceptional moments te a life in which, blessed with her earnest, careful affection, Franklen believed him- self the happiest man alive. It was wonderful how the neighbours should have jot any idea of the slight cloud upon the little home, seeing that neither Aaron nor Nelly would, to save iheir life, have let fall a ward concerning one another, mt of tenderness yet too often an expression of con- iolence or sympathy, dropped involuntarily, testified Q the general impression that, as the women said, Nelly, didn't make young Franklen the wife she'd night to." (To be continued.)

A LESSON FOR ALL. --+- BISHOP HALL said, for every bad there might be a irorse, and when a man breaks his leg let him be jhankfui it is not his neck." Into what insignificance i misfortune we bewailed as unendurable suddenly links when compared with the crushing calamity ;hat desolates the home of a friend The hill-fire, rhose far-shining signal light warns an army of the approach of a foe, fades into a mere rush candle when :ontrasted with the angry jets of liquid flame leaping Irom the heart of Vesuvius, and threatening incal- mlable destruction. Beauty is heightened or eclipsed —size magnified or diminished—colour changed— lound altered—the sense of pain or pleasure intensified )r deadened by contrast. We were once forcibly struck by the philosophy of i friend who had disciplined herself, whenever she was assailed by a crowd of tantalising vexations, or ippressive troubles, to compare her trials with the leverer affliction of some greater mourner, and to ejaculate, mentally, it might be worse!" With hat reflection came a sense of thankfulness that she iad been spared a superlative evil; patience and ;heerfulness ensued, and she was preserved from fall- ng into the common, egotistical error of believing ¡hat the cross allotted to herself was heavier than ,bat borne by any other shoulders. This friend was asked in what manner she first :ontracted the above-mentioned consoling habit; in inswer, she related the following anecdote Her early youth was rich in promised jojs and iresent blessings; but to this hope-blossoming calm succeeded a sudden whirlwind of trials—the loss of fortune—the treachery of trusted friends—the death- menacing illness of the nearest and dearest—her own tailing health, combined with the absolute necessity )f daily encountering severest soil. She had been struggling with this accumulation of sorrows for a jouple of years or more. She was weary of her cease- less exertions—dispirited—full of repining—fearful of the future—thankless for the past—and fully con- vinced that her fate in life was the hardest ever apportioned to mortal. She had become a total stranger to that happy philosophy which ———* bids the heart whose sun is low to borrow A smile upon the credit of a golden morrow." At this period she was sojourning in a western city, GO which her duties summoned her. There she con- stantly visited a charming family, at whose fireside peace and content seemed to have raised indestruc- tible altars. But our friend says the sphere of joyous serenity, by which that home was pervaded, made her more impatient when she contrasted her own restless, wandering, unsatisfactory life with the calm existence of that dwelling's inhabitants. The lovely children of the hostess became much attached to this frequent guest. They flew to meet her like a flock of pigeons, whenever she came, hung around her with a fondness that soothed her aching heart, and prattled about her continually in her Absence. Several times, while she was talking to these beloved little ones, she noticed, half hidden by an open door, a figure that seemed to be watching her. If she moved, to obtain a nearer view, the form in- variably disappeared. Day after day her curiosity was excited by this mysterious presence. Politeness dosed her lips, for it was hardly possible that the mother and children should not be aware of what she was so conscious. Indeed, several times, when she bad related some hair-breadth escape encountered in her travels, a low sound, like a murmur of sympathy or a suppressed groan, came from the direction of the concealed shape. At length curiosity conquered our friend's sense of uourtesy, and one day she turned to her hostess and Mid, "You know I am lamentably superstitious, and at this very moment mv imagination is almost worked up into believing that there is some unearthly visitant near as. Do not think me very rude, though I fear I am but, pray, do tell me who that is yonder. I can just see the waving of a white dress, and I have wondered over and over again to whom it be- longed. The words were hardly spoken when an exclama- tion of pain struck upon her ear, and the slender form of a young girl, covering her face with her hands, was distinctly seen hurrying away. A dead silence ensued. The mother looked deeply distressed-the children turned to her, but did not speak. Poor Ellen! at last she exclaimed, what a pity you have noticed her! She took so much pleasure in listening to you and watching you J M JPen ^ho is she ? Is she one of the family ?" xes; my husband's daughter by his first mar- riage—a young girl of sixteen. She—she is an and the speaker hesitated, and added in a tone of pity, an invalid—sorely afflicted." "But will she not come into the room and be in- troduced, if she cares to see me ? I would like to know her—do ask her to come." "No—she cannot—she would rather not—it would not be possible to induce her," replied the lady, with an embarrassed air. An instant afterwards she turned the conversation. At our friend's next visit, and the next, and the next, there was no dress floating to and fro behind that door, no sound which betrayed an unseen listener. But this unknown Ellen was constantly present to her imagination. Why did she appear no more? What, was the mystery attached to her? Why could she not be seen ? Tormented by these interrogatories of a curious spirit, the visitor ventured to ask her hostess how Ellen was. About the Kame," she replied, gravely; she is not likely to be any better." Ia her disease hopeless, then ? CI Yes—perfectly so;" and she conversed on other subjects. A few days afterward, the ball door chanced to be open when our friend called, and she entered the house without ringing or knocking. As she mppaftrtd,, a young girl fled along the entry and rapidly mounted the stair. Surely the step was not that of one enfeebled by a hopeless illness ? The form was very fragile, but did not lack a certain elastic grace. The face was partially covered by a white bandage, leaving only the eyes and brow visible—a pair of frightened blue eyes and a low brow over which the brown hair was carefully smoothed. Was this Ellen ? The guest told her hostess of the accidental meeting, and, taking courage, urged her to confide the nature of Ellen's affliction to one who already felt an inde- scribable interest in the youthful recluse. With no little reluctance the lady complied. Owing to the death of Ellen's mother, the child was intrusted to a wet nurse. This unprincipled woman artfully concealed from the father and the physician that she was a victim to scrofula. The infant was a lovely, healthy little girl, of fine promise; but the milk by which she was nourished diseased, poisoned her blood. Its effects culminated when she reached her fourteenth year. Just at the age when a young maideH begins to value her personal appearance, the venom imbibed in infancy developed itself in a cancer in the nose, an affection of the throat which impared her speech, and a disease of the eyes which threatened blindness. Her sufferings were intense beyond descrip- tion. She was forced to submit to the most torturing medical treatment, and after a time the disease was in a measure checked. Her sight was restored, her throat better; but the palate had been completely destroyed, and her voice had a guttural discordant sound; her nose was partly eaten away; and the disfigurement of her whole countenance so shocking, that she was hardly recognisable. It might well make the beholder think, with a shudder, of the story of Acco (of classic memory), who went mad when she viewed her own hideousness in a looking-elass, and almost fear that the same fate might befall Ellen. She lived in total seclusion; she fled from strangers, and had a mortal horror of any eye resting upon her and if she went into the street, she was so closely veiled that she could scarcely breathe. She heard her young sisters describing enjoyments which she could never share. She saw them grow in beauty, while her lamentable detormity increased. She was mQrbidly sensitive to her own condition, and keenly felt the irremediable blight that had fallen upon her whole existence. The constant prattling of the children about their favourite guest had awakened Ellen's interest, and she so earnestly longed to see her, that, at last, with their connivance, she had stolen from her retirement, and concealed herself behind a door of the drawing- room, to hear and see unpereeived. After listening to this piteous story, our friend warmly entreated that she might be allowed to make Ellen's acquaintance—might behold and converse with her. The poor sufferer was with difficulty per- suaded to grant this request, but at length she was led into the room by her tender and devoted step- mother, who placed Ellen's hand in that of the stranger. Oh! what a terrible revealing of the possible miseries to which humanity may be exposed, was this young girl's history to that stranger I Ellen's mercurial temperament heightened her afflic- tion. She had quick sensibilities, ardent enthusiasm, a strong desire to love and be loved-to mingle wifh her fellow beings, to shine, to enjoy—and yet life's commonest gifts to humanity were all denied her! Still she was not wholly miserable. The seeds of piety, early inseminated in her mind, sprung up and bore fruit which nourished her spirit, and pre- vented the mental starvation of utter despair. And one happiness at last was granted her—one unhoped*for friendship became hers. She quickly formed a strong, an almost idolising, attachment to the stranger, whose visits to the house were hence- forth especially her own. When Ellerr and her new friend were compelled to part, the wretched girl threw herself into that' friend's arms, sobbing violently, and caught the hand lifted to dry her tears, ■ and placed upon it a ring of gold, with a heart in the centre, saying, Oh look at it often. Think of me often! often! often I" It was strange to hear that harsh, hollow voice tremulous with emotion, and uttering such touching words strange to see the dim, restless eyes so full of love and tears. Think of her often! Who could have forgotten her ? The whole life of the being on whose hand that ring had been placed, was chanared by her inter- course with this stricken girl. As she gazed upon I the simple token, she said to herself again and again, Ellen! Ellen! what are my sorrows contrasted with yours ? What are my sufferings, sacrifices, j privations, compared to the dreary blank of your joyless existence ? I will never dare to repine or rebel again When I think of Ellen, I will always remember how much worse my trials might have been." I' Ellen's devotion to her friend strengthened even until the hour of her death, which took place some years later. They corresponded faithfully, and in her letters Ellen poured out her full heart. After the lapse of a few years, they met once more. The storms had blown over the head of one-time bad soothed seme of her sorrows, success had rewarded her exertions, many a wound bad healed, and many a broken link of friendship had been re-united—but' the unmitigated gloom that surroundpd Ellen was impervious to a single ray of joy. She grew feebler and feebler-her sufferings and her disfigurement increased, until the one joyful hour when her Master bade her fling off the poor, mangled earthly garment t of her soul, and stand before his presence, robed in the eternal loveliness of her pain-purified spirit. Her memory was greenly preserved in the heart of her friend. The thought of Ellen blunted the sting of many an arrow, lifted the weight from many a burden, and taught her, with each now trouble, to reftect-u It might be worse!"

LADIES' COLUMN. II THE FASHIONS. The Venetian hood, the Spanish carrick-mantilla, and the opera cap, are novelties which undergo many different shapes, to say nothing of the Pretender- collars and cuffs, the Queen Anne rlijff is menteur fichus, chatelaine bags, medieval belts and snaps, nielli buttons, &c. A return to plain robings down the sidew of full-dress velvets, moires, satins, and mixed failles, prognosticates tho maintenance of flat- ness about the knees, but mention must be made of an attempt to revive the hideous roll, worn during the Medicis period, round the waists of peaked bodies. The menteur fichu is no longer worn on high bodices, but on low, round evening dress. They are either very becoming or- have a clumsy, heavy ap- pearance, and in general should be draped round the shoulders. Ordpe lisse, worked organdi, moss gauze, and brocaded mousseline-de-soie arc the prettiest. Sometimes tha fichu menteur has its accompanying head-dress, which is a kind of turban tried on the hair, with two ends on one side. A filet of cold runs round the hem, and that is all. Ripe corn is a favourite colour for this neglig6, but dead leaf, with a filet of roae-sa+in, is as pretty. Two new toilettes have been much admired one is the Bourgeoise de Paris, a well-to-do dress, whilst the 11 other is called Bemember." The Bourgeoise is a mixed dress, half cashmere and half Genoa velvet and satin. The cashmere is bronze, the satin vieil or, while Genoa velvet is "stamped in both shades for quilles and revers. In some cases vieil or is re- placed by crimson, but then only as lining to the cashmere. The Remember" is supposed to be half- mourning. It is a dead white, very tight fitting poult, entirely plain the headings to a marabout fringe are a deep galoon of pansies and violets. With regard toiJaalf mourning, silver ornaments are preferred to jet4 but they are of a very elaborate description, being percé, and imitative of ancient models of a very remote period. Some of the snaps now in fashion are copies of old locks, and the most expensive are reproductions of the plated designs seen on medieval coffers. Nickel is the metal employed. Brooches are made for the wpist, and for maintaining chatelaiae-bags to the skirts of dresses. These square or oval ornaments are sometimes initials or corenets and sometimes monograms and mottoes. White Seville blonde enjoys the same vogue as Oas- tillian fringe. The former is often worked with rain- bow-coloured beads, but is in better taste with white jet. Oastillian fringe is chenille on deep silk network, each chenille strand ending with vieil or grelois of covered wood. The novelty in the floral line is a phosphorescent or thisfle. The colours for this season are—Morning toilette Otter, bottle-green, bronze, t6te de negre. Afternoon: Prune, olive, caroubier, moss. Evening: Orême, Indian sky, tilleul, bl6, and ochre. TURKEY, STUFFED WITH CHESTNUTS.—The turkey's crop may be filled with Veal or other stuffing. Take a few more chestnuts than will completely fill the body of your bird, in case any of them should turn out bad. Oook them enough, but not too much, either by roast- ing over a brazier, or by boiling; peel off both the outer and the inner skin; look closely to see that there are no decayed or mouldy parts, and, with the chestnuts and the liver, stuff the turkey as full as it will hold, sewing it up with needle and thread. Then put. it down to roust as before, allowing plenty of butter to make the gra\<y. As a. good deal of this,.will be absorbed by tbo and retained in the belly ef the bird (which ijill be all the better for it), you syill do wrll to make a .^ros"^ gravy to send up with it, by stewing the "e^t and gizzard with a little minced beef, thickening the stock so obtained, witjh-.flour browaed in better, ana seasoning with pepper, sal* ketchup, and A chestnutted turkey is none the worst for bread sauce, or onion sauce, or both.—Caaeeli'a Household Guide. t

AN IMPORTED HEN. The committee, determined to make the most of the cdd contribution, had decided on putting it up for sale, and a real auctioneer undertook to preside, and to do his best. Imported hen to be sold this day by public auction." The poor old biddy, "white with the snows of many winters," was exposed to view in her cage of wicker, right over the refreshment stall. Two eggs (boiled) taken from the counter were placed in the cage with her Mr. Sanders, the auctioneer, mounted the rostrum pro- vided for him, amid the cheers of the impatient spectators, who fancied they were about to hear the past history and pedigree of this remarkable fowl. He held aloft the caged bird for some minutes, turning it round and about, that all eyes might see and be satisfied. Then, putting it on the stand before him, he took up his hammer, and began. Ladies and gentlemen, I have the ecstatic pleasure of display- ing before you this imported hen-a hen of most rare ana unattainable qualities-a hen that can't be beat, even with a stick, unless you first take her out of the cage—a hen that is supposed to be of the best breed of hens extant—an im-port-ed hen -im-port-ed I 8ay-" If you please, sir," interposed a timid voi e, "where's she imported from ?" Ah replies Mr. Sanders, if I only con- sidered myself at liberty to tell you, I think I may safely say you would be surprised. You've heard of the countries over the sea—California—Kamschatka -Guinea Land-Jericho-well, I don't say she is from any one of them, orwhichothersheis from only I do say you might be surprised. An im-port ed hen Who'll give a bid ? This hen is be sold for the good of the cause. She's a hen that will fetch just what she'll bring, and no mistake -a real, live, jolly, happy old hen. See her laugh A facetious old hen, I tell you. Hear her chuckle! A profitable old hen-is said to have laid fifteen eggs in ten days, and sometimes a good many more. Finest old hen to be found this side of-Poland. Who makes the first bid ?" Half-a-crown"—from a farmer's wife. "Half-a-crown. Thank you, ma'am. Half-a-crown I am bid. Grand old hen! The like of it not to be found outside this cage-fifteen eggs in ten days I-an egg and a half a day! Half-a-crown for the best white hen—the oldest and the wisest. Knows how to lay as many eggs again as a youne and silly pullet—tough and strong-better constitution than hens that are not imported—evidently stands migra- tion well. Look at her! Never suffered from sea- sickness, as our simple hens might suffer; never made a wry face or lost a meal-when she could get it. Grand old hen! Who doubles the bid ?" Five shillings." Five shillings. Many thanks, sir. Here's this beautiful im-port-ed hen going for five shillings. A real, live, white hen. Wbat a chance to possess her!" Seven and sixpence." Seven and sixpence.' Thadk you, Sir Thomas. Only three half-crowns gentlemen, for this beautiful specimen of the feathered tribe! Who'll seize, upon this rare oppor- tunity and bid me another ?" "Ten shillings." Ten and sixpence." Twelve shillings." Twelve and sixpence." Twelve and sixpence. Five half-crowns, gentlemen. Going at twelve and sixpence—the finest fowl in featherdom-lays an egg and a-half a day-as they say—and sometimes probably two and a-half. Here are two boiled eggs laid to-day, gentle- men and ladies-rare hen—very rare hen — going at "Thirteen shillings." Going at thirteen shillings. Who'll eay fifteen? Can't afford to sell an imported hen so cheap—who'll give me fif- teen-" "Fifteen." "Fifteen. Many thanks, ma'am." Sixteen." Seventeen." Seventeen. Thank you, young sir. Seventeen shillings I am bid I for this rare old imported hen—eighteen shillings, thank you, sir—eighteen and sixpence, great thanks. Who-" Twenty shillings." Twenty shillings for this magnificent hen. Now you begin to speak I up, gentlemen. One pound I am bid"for the best im- ported hen to be found on the ground. Going— going at twenty shillings—who'll give me the twenty- five ?—going for the good of its country, a fine old white-feathered domestic bird, the pride of the' poultry-yard; staid and well- mannered worth dozens of your wild young tra-h—going—going Twenty-five." Twenty-five shillings I am bid— j twenty-five. Why, gentlemen, are you going to look on and sec this splendid specimen of live stock thrown away ?—absolutely thrown away ? Going at twenty- five shillings! Make another bid, gentlemen! Think of those poor afflicted soldiers and what not, perhaps this very day lying mangled and bleeding before St. Petersburg or Twenty-six." Twenty-six j thanks — going at twenty-six. This fine, rare, im port ed hen going at Twenty seven. "The gentleman bids twenty-seven. A thousand thanks. Going for twenty-seven shil- lings. Will nobody bid more?" No response. Goin?—going—gone Knocked down to you, Mr. Jones, at twenty-seven shillings. Sold dirt cheap. F-i-n-e im-port-ed hen Given for the pure love of the cause," and Mr. Sanders handed down the caged bird. Put her up again," said Mr. Jones, returning the sum for which he was indebted. Yes, put her up again," shouted the laughing crowd. Again j the white imported ben was put up and sold off at a good price-but not so much aa before. Again the money was paid down, and again the ancient fowl was given back to be resold. For six or eight successive times she was struck off for a few shillings, bringing grist to the bazaar, and producing an amount of fun too great to be estimated. Fifty-six shillings in round numbers did that old white hen pro- duce, and her purchaser was the farmer's wife who had made the first bid. Mrs. Palmerstone bore her prize off in triumph. Some chaffing was being ex- changed b.-otwtien the auctioneer and his friends, when' be suddenly threw himself back with a tragic air, his elevated position enabling him to see what they could not. Spirit of despair! What do I behold cried he. That imported hen again! Can't I get rid of her! I've sold her more than half-a-dozen times already." Put her up again! Put her up! Put her up shouted the mirthful crowd. True enough. Mrs. Palmerstone was bringing back the hen. One of the ladies in the secret had incautiously disclosed to her the truth--that it was old Cart wright's white hen. Saying nothing, but not liking to be laughed at, she brought back the prize aid presented it for the general good. Once more the hen was put up. The room now was in one roar of laughter. Her pur- chaser was a popular clergyman. Knocked down to you, reverend sir," cried the auctioneer;" I'm sure she Ought to bring you luck. But, look here just you stay a bit, Mr; Dawson." The Rev. Mr. Dawson, then carrying off the cage, turned round his laughing face. You bought the hen, you know, sir; that beautiful im-port-ed hen, but you didn't buy the cage. We must put up that." Mr. Dawson, taking out the hen, banded the cage to the auctioneer.-The White Hen, in the Argoty.

vjLKIBTIBS. actions are our owh; their eoase- quences belong to heaven.—Francis. THB TOKGTJK.—God gare you that gifted tongue of yours, and set it between your teeth to make known your true meaning to us, not to be rattled like a muffin man'a bell.—Carlyle. SMILES.—A beautiful smile is to the female counte* nance what the sunbeam is to the landscape; it em- bellishes an inferior face, and redeems an ugly one. A smile, however, should not become habitual, or insipidity is the result. In Russia & husband may appear as a witness in a lawsuit against his wife, but a wife is not heard against her husband; a man may oblige his wife to work for him, but a wife cannot sue her husband even for necessaries, and she has no redress against him if he deserts her. THE TIME FOR CAUTION.—In our experience of life, a truth which sounds very much like a paradox has often asserted itself—viz., that a man's worst difficul- ties begin when he is able to do as he likes. So long as a man is struggling with obstacles, he has an excuse for failure or shortcoming; but when fortune removes them all, and gives him the power of doing as he thinks best, then comes the time of trial. There is but one right, and the possibilities of wrong are infinite. The womanly woman is not ambitious of personal display outside the perfect conduct of her house and her own legitimate beauty; she is fond of her home and of her domestic duties, she respects her husband, and she takes care of her children, whom she looks after, guides, influences, and educates into noble men and women. She is not of the silly sisterhood who think housekeeping a degradation, and who would rather do the third-rate work of men than the best of that which nature and society have opportioned to themselves. JAPANESE BREACHES OF PROMISE.—After a Japanese lover has proved false to his vows, the deserted maiden rises at about two o'clock in the morning, and dons a white robe and high sandals or clogs. Her coif is a metal tripod, into which are thrust three lighted candles; around her neck she hangs a mirror, which falls upon her bosom; in her left hand she carries a small straw figure-the effigy of her faithless lover— and in her right she grasps a hammer and nail, with which she nails it to one of the sacred trees that sur- round the shrine. Then she prays for the death of the traitor, vowing that if her petition be heard she will herself pull out the nails which offend the god by wounding the mystic tree. Night after night she comes to the shrine, and strikes in two more nails, believing that every nail will shorten her lover's life, for the god, to save his tree, will surely strike him dead. It is a curious illustration of the hold super- stition yet has on the Japanese. THE WORD YANKEE."—Words peculiar to New England are often called Americanisms." In reality they are Old England words in common use at the time these people [the Puritan Fathers] left for the New World, but are now only seen in Shakspere and the writers of the period. The very word Yankee now vaguely applied to all Americans at the Northern States shows the light in which the early dwellers in New England were looked on by the aborigines. It is, in fact, the Indians' corruption of the term Anglais, or Englishmen, applied to the first settlers by the Frenchmen of the neighbouring country of Canada. Hence Yengees, Yenghes, Yanghis, Yan- kees. It was used at least as early as 1713 by one Jonathan Hastings, a farmer, who applied it to his cider and other wares, as expressive of his intention that the world should believe that they were some- thing very superior. At least such is the legend. 1$ is interesting, and may possibly even be true.—Tht Countries of the World. KINO BABY.—Let me utter my word of protest against the custom which gains in the present day, of bringing infants up either partially or entirely upon artificial food. I know for a fact that there are many j woman who can, but will not, nurse their infants; and j there are many more who fancy they really cannot, but would find they could, if they would give up all! excitement, and lead quiet regular lives, partaking of j a plain but nourishing diet. There are many articles | of food which increase the supply of milk, and by a judicious choice of diet one may do a great deal, Children fed with nature's food have better constitu- tions, and are better able to resist the attacks of in- fantile disease, with which some children are so afflicted. There is no doubt that in nursing her own infant the mother is laying the groundwork of a stronger, healthier constitution than she can ever hope for him if he be artificially nourished. Can any mother, knowing this, refuse to make an effort for her child's sake ? If so, she is a dishonour to her sex. And to you mothers who will not nurse your infanta, I say this: You do not know the close and enthralling affection which exists between a mother and babe. Any one else can fill your place, and you cannot un- derstand the delightful feeling of being all in all, the one necessary object to the little being who is, indeed, part and parcel of yourself. You deserve to have your child love some one else better than yourself, and it is not unlikely that such will be the case.—Family Magazine. POST OF HONOUR.—In the battle of Culloden, so decisive of the cause of the Stuarts, the three Mac- donald regiments were stationed on the extreme left, and went off without striking a blow, although they had drawn their swords for the attack, and were within twenty paces of the enemy. Macdonald of Keppoch, seeing them retreat, rushed sword in hand in the midst of the enemy, bravely fighting, until two musket shots numbered him with the slain. This singular conduct of the Macdonald regiments was chiefly occasioned by a circumstance which, however apparently trivial, was capable of kindling the fiercest rage in the bosom of Highlanders. They were sta- tioned on the left instead of the right of the army, a privilege which they had formerly enjoyed in every battle and struggle in behalf of the Royal family, since the battle of Bannockburn, when Robert Bruce bestowed this honour upon Angus Macdonald, Lord of the Isles, as a reward for his fidelity to that Prince in protecting him above nine months in his countries of Rachlin, Isla, and Uist. This right they had enjoyed ever since, and even in those enterprises during the rebellion which had proved successful, such as the battles of Gladsmuir and Falkirk. At the battle of Culloden, the Duke of Perth stood at the head of the Glengarry regiment, and hearing the loud murmurs of the men on this invasion of the prece- dency, he said if the Macdonalds behaved with their usual valour, they would make a right of the left, and he would call himself Macdonald. But all this proved unavailing. How MALIBRAN TOOK HER PORTER.—In Balfe's next opera, "The Maid of Artois," he had the in- comparable Malibran for his heroine. Two amusing anecdotes are connected with this work. During the last rehearsals he became dissatisfied with the finals; Malibran, on the contrary, insisted that it was the most brilliant piece in the opera, and pronounced it madness to alter it. But Balfe was determined it should be altered. At eight o'clock one morning, he hurried off to her lodgings with a new composition he had written during the night. Madame had not risen had written during the night. Madame had not risen yet, but her husband, De Beriot, was in the drawing- room. To him Balfe played over the air; he was enchanted, and said his wife must hear it at once. But the lady, not caring to be disturbed, and still bent upon singing the first finale, refused. Balfe suggested that the small cottage piano should be carried up to her bed-room, and that, willy-nilly, she should listen. De Beriot assented. The instrument was taken up- stairs, the window curtain opened, and amid the in- dignant protestations of the lady, the stubborn composer began to play the rondo. He had got through only a few bars when Malibran raised herself upon her elbow with an air of attention; and soon her face began to glow with delight. When it was finished the burst out into the most rapturous admiration, and promised to sing the piece at rehearsal that same morning. Its success was immense; and Mr. Kenny, Balfe's biographer, informs us that it carried its composer's name over the whole Continent, and even in Russia became an established favourite, there being known as "Balfe's Air." Years afterwards, when he was presented to the empress at a Court concert, he was asked if he were not Mr. Balfe of the Air." I give the second anecdote on the authority of Bunn:— She had borne along the first two acts in such a flood of triumph, that she was bent by some almost super- human effect to continue its glory to the fall of the curtain. I went to her dressing-room previous to the commencement of the third act to ask her how she felt. Very tired,' she replied; but if you will con- trive to get me a pint of porter into the desert scene, you will have an encore to your finale. So it was arranged that behind a pillar of drifted sand, on which she had to fall in a state of exhaustion towards the close of the desert scene, a small aperture should be made in the stage, and through tnat aperture a pewter pint of porter was conveyed to her lips. This so refreshed her that after the terrible exertion of the previous scene she electrified the audience by repeating the rondo. During the run of the opera a negro slave in one of the processions had a gourd suspended to his neck, containing the same beverage, with which she nightly recruited her exhausted energies." -Belgr{lrJia. "JOUT" PEOPLE.—They may not amount to much, in some ways, as their graver neighbours: but they fill a useful place in the world, notwithstanding The truly merry man knows nothing of care. Life itself is a joke to hun. What a happy disposition it must be that can thus bid defiance to all the vicissitudes of the world, and smile even at pain as nothing but a relief from the monotony of a perpetual ease We envy such people. And yet a constant laugh cannot be so enioy. abie as one that comes occasionally, well matured, and in all the luxuriance of a heartfelt appreciation of humour. Too much of a good thing is pood for nothing, says the proverb; and why not too much mental quietude ? At any rate, it, is well to console trarselves that if we are sometimes wretched it is only because that wretchedness enhances the requisite i enjoyment of those hilarious moments that follow tffcr it. That's true philosophy! HOPE.—A Ifright and beautiful bird is HOPE; it will come to us 'mid the darkness, and sings the sweetest song when our spirits are saddest; and when the lone soul is weary, and longs to pass away, it warbles its sunniest notes, and tightens again the slender fibres of our heart that grief has been tearing away. WOMAN AND THE BEAUTIFUL.—Women have a much nicer sense of the beautiful than men. They are, by far, the safer umpires in matters of propriety and grnce. A mere school-girl will be thinking and writing about the beauty of birds and blossoms, "while her brother is robbing the nests and destroying the flowers. A MONKEY KINGDOM.—We are assurec. „fyat not far from here was a sacred wood, inhabited by 600 or 600 monkeys, whom the natives feed with rice and fruits. These monkeys have, it appears, a king, who always eats first of everything alone, while his subjects await his permission at a distance. At the sign of command, the famished troop throw themselves upon the meal, and fight over it tooth and nail. I am greatly dis- tressed that we had no time to witness this urious ap- plication of the theory of personal government" otherwise than with the eyes of faith, and mine, when travelling, are unfortunately remarkably shortsighted. A Voyage Round the World, by the Marquis de lJeau- voir. THE ART OF NOT HEARING.—The art of not hear- uig is fully as important to domestic happiness as a cultivated ear, for which so much time and money are expended. There are so many things which it is pain- ful to hear, many of which, if heard, would disturb the temper and detract from contentment and happiness, that everyone should be educated to take in or shut out sounds at will. If a man falls into a violent pas- sion, and calls me all manner of names, the first word shuts my ears, and I hear no more. If, in my quiet voyage of life, I am caught in one of those domestic whirlwinds or scoldings, I shut my eyes, as a sailor would furl his sails, and making all tight, scud before the gale. Does a gadding, mischief-making fellow begin to inform me what people are saying about me, down drops the portcullis on my ear, and he cannot get in any further. v. A SCOTTISH ARMY IN 1639.—In his 7th volume of the History of England Mr. Burton, through the me- dium of the town clerk of Aberdeen, whose derscrip- tive powers," he says, "had probably been exercised on inventories of furniture and commodities," describes Montrose's army entering the Granite City" in the year 1639. "They came in order of battle, well armed both on horse and foot, ilk horseman having five shots at the least, when he had one carbine in his hand, two pistols by his side, and other two at his saddle toe; the pikemen in their ranks, with musket, musket staff, bandeleer, sword, powder, ball, and match. llk company, both on horse and foot, had their cap- tains, lieutenants, ensigns, sergeants, and other offi- cers and commanders, all for the most part in buffle coats and goodly order." After describing the standards of the army, the garrulous clerk proceeds— They had trumpeters to ilk company of footmen. They had their meat, drink, and other provisions, bag and baggage, carried with them." QUEEN ANNE AND CAVALIER.—His fame had long preceded him, and Queen Anne honoured him with an interview, and treated him with marked attention, till, unfortunately, she asked him if he believed that during his ministration in the Covennes he had really been in- spired by the Holy Spirit. On replying that he did so, the good queen, who seems to have made no allow- ance for the fanaticism which characterised the war of the Covenols, immediately turned her back upon him. So the story goes; but there is another version of it, which runs thus:—It was the common belief of the Camisards that the spirit of inspiration quitted their prophets when they left Languedoc, and that when Cavalier was admitted to the presence of the queen, she asked him if God continued to visit him with in- spirations; and he, deeply affected by the question, bowed his head, wept, but made no reply." Our author says that Cavalier, not being able to exist on the small provision made for him by the English Go- vernment, was nominated Major-General, and appointed to the Governorship of Jersey.—Mrs. Bray's Hugenott «f the Seventeenth Century. SMOKING.—" The smoker," said the late Dr. Marshall Hall, cannot escape the poison of tobacco. It enters into his blood, travels the whole round of his system, weakens his brain and every nerve of his body, and affects every fibre of his frame." Moreover, the poi- soned blood, which makes the flesh, must inevitably sow the seeds of manifold diseases. Besides, smoking leads to drinking. It is said by those who have in- quired into the cause why so many reclaimed tipplers break their teetotal pledge, that thirst and exhaustion have been the admitted cause. Than which nothing can be more natural. Ejected saliva must in some way be substituted, and it would be difficult to conceive of a more unwelcome deposit in a human stomach than water mixed with the foul aroma in the smoker's mouth. Some say they can smoke without drinking or spitting. They must practise long before they come to this, and in the long run such smokers are the greatest sufferers, for all the poison of the tobacco which is retained find its way into the avenues of the body, and the more men are tobaccoised the more dangerous is their con- dition.— Considerations in Relation to th$Science of Life. MISMANAGEMENT OP THE FRENCH COMMISSARIAT.— Our author also expresses himself much struck with the bad management of the French Commissariat:— The guilty carelessness of a department that boasted of its good organisation has been certainly one of the principal causes of the French reverses; and the mili- tary intendants of the army ought to be brought be- fore a council of war, to explain their neglect, so fatal to their countrymen; and if proved guilty, they ought to be punished with all the severity of the law." He makes one somewhat astounding statement, which wa remember to have heard at the time, but which re- quires confirmation. He asserts that on the 18th of August, Marshal Canrobert, charging at the head of two divisions, and supported by a powerful fire of mitrailleuses, repulsed a body of 8,000 Prussians, and, after a severe hand-to-hand fight, drove them bodily into the quarries of Jaumont, where they lay muti- lated and destroyed. In his statement of the compara- tive numbers of French and Prussian corpses on the 18th of August, speaking as an eye-witness, he is en- titled to credit. He positively asserts that only three out of every nine corpses on the battle-field were those of Frenchmen, and that in the other battles the same proportion was observable. — Count de La Chapelle't War ef 1870. CURIOUS THEORY ON LANGUAGE.—There is in most languages, but more particularly in those which are losing their consciousness or their vitality, what, by a name borrowed from geology, may be called a meta- morphic process. It consists chiefly in this, that words, as they cease to be properly understood, are slightly changed, generally with the object of impart- ing to them once more an intelligible meaning. This new meaning is mostly a mistaken one, yet it is not only readily accepted, but the word, in its new dress and with, its new character, is frequently made to sup- port facts or fictions which could be supported by no other evidence. Who does not believe that sweetheart has something to do with heart ? Yet it was origi- ginally formed like drunk-ard, dull-ard, andnigg-ard; and poets, not grammarians, are responsible for the mischief it may have done under its plausible disguise. By the same process, shamefast, formed like steadfast, and still properly spelt by Chaucer and in the early editions of the Authorised Version of the Bible, has long become shamefaced, bringing before us the blush- ing roses of a lovely face. The Vikings, mere pirates from the viks or creeks of Scandinavia, have, by the same process, been raised to the dignity of kings; just as coat cards—the king, and queen, and knave, in their gorgeous gowns—were exalted into court cards.—Max- Mullet's Chips from a German Workshop. THE BEARDLESS AGE.—When the great Henry IV., of France, was succeeded by Louis XII. (who never became great), the new king was only nine years of age, consequently beardless. Courtiers have at all times been remarkable for their servility, and as Louis could nave no beard, they resolved to be beardless themselves, and they went forthwith to the barbers. The honest statesman. Sully, was the only man, who dared te appear with his beard in the same form as he cm it in the time of his old master. Crop-lipped coartieBS made merry at the old counsellor's expense, laugsmg at his ancient appearance. Sully bore their irrevi—t jests for some time, and then with dignity he said to the king— Sire, when your father of glorious memory did me the honour to consult me on his great and important affairs, the first thing he did was to send away the buffoons of his Court." Louis XII, however, had no idea about buffoonery. The system of cropping, we are told, was carried so far that even the inferior animals were subjected to the pro- cess, which occasioned Marshal Bassompiere, who had been imprisoned during the last twelve years of the preceding reign, to observe, on coming to Court again, that he saw no other change in the world since he had been secluded from it, than that men had lost their beards and horses their tails. In England, in Queen Elizabeth's time, the growth of beards was re- gulated by statute in Lincoln's-inn, and "it was ordered that no fellow of that house should wear a beard of above a fortnight's growth." What a stubby appearance the learned chins must have exhibited. The prohibition did not last longer than a year. Aftection, like spring flowers, breaks through the most frozen ground at last; and the heart which seeks but for another heart to make it happy will never seek in vain. SOCIAL HONOUR.—Every person should cultivate a nice sense of honour. In a hundred different ways this most fitting adjunct of the true lady or gentleman is often tried. For instance, one is a guest in a family where, perhaps, the domestic machinery does not run smoothly. There is sorrow in the house unsuspected by the outer world. The guest is in honour bound to be blind and deaf, so far as people without are con- cerned. If a gentle word within can do good, it may well be said; but to go forth and reveal the shadow of an unhappy 'secret to anyone, is an act of indelicacy and meanness almost unparalleled. Once in the sacred precincts of any home, admitted to its privacy, "hapng its life, all that you pee and hear snould become < facrod frufc