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VOTOTI. I and ahow them to be fools which ai§ BO. Garments that have one rent in them are subject to be torn on every nail, and glasses that are once cracked are soon broken; such is a man's good name once tainted with reproach. SHAMS.—We live in an age of sham and fraud. Hardly a day passes that does not discover some new and gigantic rascality by which one or a few persons have been enriched at the expense of the many trust- ing dupes. A HELPING HEART.—It is astonishing how much one without money may give. A kind word, a help- ing hand-the warm sympathy that rejoices with those who weep. No man is so poor, no woman is so poor, as not to be able to contribute largely to the happiness of those about them. PAMPERED.—It is very easy to spoil children by rearing them in idleness. A girl who is never allowed to sew, all of whose clothes are made for her, and put on her, till she is twelve, fifteen, or eighteen years of age, is spoiled. The mother has spoiled her by doing everything for her. The true idea of self-restraint is to let the child venture. GLORIA MUNDI.-Some time in the reign of Queen Anne a party of sightseers were being conducted over the House of Lords. "Have you ever been here before, friend?" asked a spruce, pert young buck of a very ancient visitor in home-spun garb, who looked like a substantial yeoman, and who seemed to be gazing around him with intense interest. Never," replied the ancient person, since I sat in that chair." And with his stick he pointed tremblingly to the throne. The ancient visitor was Richard Cromwell, some time Lord Protector of the Commonwealth of England. ONE'S OwN Room.-Far beyond drawing-room or spare room, and important above almost every other arrangement in your domestic establishment, is the consecration of one room to the especial use of the master of the house, should his pursuits be such as to render occasional solitude and quiet needful or merely pleasurable to him. A sound and a lovely policy is that which secures to a husband in his family certain privileges and comforts that he can never find else- where, and that are calculated to counterbalance the weight of the many other attractions which his imme- diate circle cannot offer. A room to himself-a home within his home-is such a privilege, and few sacri- fices are too great if they may procure it for him; it will keep him from clubs and card parties abroad, or from being "always about" home; it will prove a sanctuary from the numerous petty domestic troubles and annoyances. THB BRIGHT SIDE.—Look on the bright side. It is the right side. The times may be hard, but it will make them no easier to wear a gloomy and sad i countenance. It is the sunshine, and not the cold, that gives beauty to the flower. There is always be- fore or around us that which should cheer and fill the heart with warmth and gladness. The sky is blue ten times where it is black once. You have troubles it may be. So have others. None are free from them—and perhaps it is well that none should be. They give sinew and tone to life—fortitude and courage to man. That would be a dull sea, and the sailor would never acquire skill, were there nothing to disturb its surface. It is the duty of everyone to extract all the enjoyment he can from within and without him, and, above all, he should look on the bright side. What though things do look a little dark? The lane will have a turning, and the night will end in broad day. In the long run the great balance rights itself. What appears ill becomes well -that which appears wrong, right. ST. DUNSTAN AND THE DEVIL.-The legend of St. Dunstan is pretty generally known, but then it is not so generally known, beyond the limits of Sussex, that Mayfield Place was the scene of that terrific encounter. It was there, and not at Glastonbury, as some ill- informed chroniclers assert, that the fiend appeared to the saint in the guise of a fair lady, and that Dunstan, being at the time engaged in his favourite recreation of forging a horse-shoe, on perceiving a cloven foot protruding from the voluminous folds of the infernal crinoline, seized the demon's nose with his red-hot pincers. (The pincers, as well as the saint's anvil, still exist at Mayfield, as irrefragable evidence of the statement.) On the application of the hot iron, the Evil One burst through the roof of the building, St. DHnstan holding on at the other end of the forceps with that pertinacity which ever distinguished his conduct. Away they went through the air, with the speed of a rifle-bullet, a full league of space, until the sulphurous composition of the nasal organ gave way to the heat of the implement, and the saint fell to the ground near a bridge which still bears his name. In ground near a bridge which still bears his name. In order to cool his tongs, Dunstan took a leisurely walk to Tunbridge Wells, into the waters of which he thrust them; and hence the taste of quenched iron which, even to this day, those waters retain. THE ART OF DISSEMBLING.-When Mr. Dempster was in danger of being ousted from Perth, one of the boroughs lie had long represented, owing to a party made against him by the magistrates, his friend Mr. P., was very active in his interest, and knowing that the provost, Mr. Stewart, was violently against him, he hit upon an expedient to win him over to his in- terest. Dr. Carmichael Smythe was known to be Mr. Dempster's physician, and a relation of the provost. Mr. P. accordingly applied to Dr. Smythe to know confidentially whether Mr. Dempster's health would be endangered by a residence in Bengal, stating that he knew it was the determination of Governmeftt to appoint him governor-general, provided Dr. Smythe thought his health good enough to stand the climate. The bait took; Dr. Smythe with great gravity as- sured Mr. P. that India would agree very well with Mr. Dempster's constitution. The doctor imme- diately wrote to his relative, the provost, assuring him most positively, but most confidentially, of Mr, Dempster's appointment, and stating that he must support his interest at the approaching election, by all the means in his power, if he expected the pro- motion of his son in India. The provost eagerly caught at so good an opportunity, and in the ex- pectation of making the fortunes of his house, devoted all his interest to Mr. Dempster, and secured his election. A FAITHFUL FRIEND.- Who says that birds are in- capable of affection ? None who have studied their pretty ways and habits, certainly. It is now about four years ago that I became acquainted with my pigeon, Joe. One cold, dark night I opened my bed- room window to take in a plant which had been for- gotten, when my hand touched something soft on the stone outside. It was a young pigeon. I took him in and warmed and fed him. He became my constant companion, affectionate and tame, playful and full of pretty little tricks. In the spring, thinking he looked wistfully at the sun and open fields, I thought it would be selfish to keep him longer a prisoner; so, after many affectionate farewells, I let him fly; but he did not remain many hours absent, coming back towards evening and striking the window-pane with his wing to be let in. So he continued to go and come until he began to stay out all night, and after a time brought home a neat little mate, a dark blue pigeon, her wings edged with pure white. Evidently he wished to introduce me to his bride. He made many efforts to induce her to remain, without success, so followed her wishes and made a nest elsewhere. Still for four years, summer and winter, through sunshine or falling snow or rain, he comes back to his mistress, sometimes bringing his mate and young ones to in- troduce but then sends them off again, remaining some time behind himself, and still retains his pretty, loving ways, bowing and cooing, and spreading one beautiful wing out over my head as I stand beneath a ledge he perches on to feed, and still each morning, after washing and carefully pluming himself, he flies through the open window, and I watch him wing his way higher and higher, and alone back to that other home, I know not where. For, small and insignificant though this little creature be, his other life is to me an unsearchable mystery. CLEOPATRA|S NEEDLE.—After the Battle of Alexan- dria in 1801, it had been the ardent wish of the British army and navy to carry off this famous obelisk to England as a memorial of their victory, and though the project was again and again entertained, some difficulty or other always sprang up, and thus for more than 30 centuries the huge monolith kept unbroken watch by the sea, for many a long year surrounded with the broken archives of some bygone and ruined temple. Nor is it merely antiquity that renders it an object of curious interest. Not far from the site of the famous stone was Heliopolis, or On (the City of the Sun), and it was Asenath, the daughter of Poti- pherah, the priest of On, who was given in marriage to Joseph. The Patriarch himself may have stood under the shadow of the Needle, and read the very inscription which still remains to tell the legend of Thothmes III., "the Kingly Horns, lord of Upper and Lower Egypt." It was near this same spot that Joseph received his aged father, Jacob; and there, according to tradition, the Holy Family took refuge under a sycamore d,uring their night into Egypt. Ancient Egypt, with all its learning and refinement, and many scenes and acts of Biblical history, are thus recalled by the wondrous stone; which, having witnessed the fall of the Greek and the rise of the Roman sway, may recall the memory of gallant Nelson at Aboukir and the death of Abercrombie at Alexandria. The height of the Needle, now destined to adorn some, let us hope, well chosen site in the metropolis, is 67 feet; and in Mr. Erasmus Wilson's handy and complete monogragh will be found an accurate account of its whole history, as well as much that is curious and interesting concerning the other similar fifty obelisks which once existed, and of which more than thirty are still standing as silent witnesses of the past. His description of various ruined temples and cities, and his remarks on the ancient hieroglyphics, though necessarily brief, are well worth reading, and give in a popular form just what the average visitor to this venerable monument wiil can to know, AN ORDBR OF Hnmoo MONKS.—Aghorpunta, or Aghorees, are a olass of people who frequent the Ghats at Benares, though they are occasionally to be found in other parts of India, and have been met with even in Assam. They are Ogres (indeed, the simili- tude of the word to Aghoree is noticeable), and affect a practical philosophy, which disbelieves in the exis- tence of any difference between things, and .oooi' i that all distinctions depend on the imagination. A cuff or a kick is as immaterial to them as a blessing. They go about in puris naturalibus, with a fresh human skull in their hands (off which they had previously eaten the putrid flesh, and afterwards scraped out the brain and eyes with their fingers), into which is poured whatsoever is given them to drink. They pretend to be indifferent whether it be ardent spirits or milk or foul water. For food they take the first thing which offers, whether it be a putrid corpse, cooked food, or ordure. With matted hair, blood-red eyes, and body covered with filth and vermin, the Aghoree is an object of terror and disgust. He looks like a wolij ready to destroy and then devour his prey, rather than a human being. Hindoos, however, loolc on these wretches with veneration, and none dare to drive them from their doors. They are among the worst of the many turbulent and troublesome inhabi- tants of Benares, and there is scarcely a crime or enormity which has not, on apparently good groun Is, been laid to their charge. One of the ancient Hindoo dramatists, Bhava Bhutt, who flourished in the eighth century, in his drama of Malati and Mahdava, has made powerful use of the Aghorees in a scene in the Temple of Chamunda, where the heroine of the play is decoyed in order to be sacrificed to the dread goddess Chamunda or Kali. The belief in the horrible practices of the Aghoree priesthood is thus proved to have existed at a very remote period, and doubtless refers to those more anient and revolting rites which belonged to the aboriginal superstitions of Tndift ante- cedent to the A lyan-Hindoo invasion and conquest of the country. It might be supposed that any such indecent, ilagrantf and disgusting customs as are now practised by the Aghorees might be summarily sup- pressed under the provisions of the new Penal Code of India. OUR SOLDIERS AND SAILORS.—In the eyes of those who have witnessed the contrast, as shown and deve- loped by the business of war, it seems hardly short of a wonder that the same nation should be able to out, to toil and fight for her cause, two bodies of men, each so devoted, each so excellent, yet parted the one from the other by a breadth so great as that which divides our soldiers from our sailors. It is true that the soldier engaged in campaigning is too often in a lower state of health than that which the sailor enjoys; but, even after recognizing that physical cause as ac- counting for some portion of the difference between the two men, the contrast still keeps its force. For the mind of the soldier is so weighted down by the cease- less pressure of Method, that he has little enough of resource except what he finds in his valour and discip- line he is patient, and, in some circumstances, strangely uncomplaining: he is grave, and calm: he has made himself famous in Europe for his power of confronting an enemy's column with what the French used to call his "terrible silence." On the other hand, the sailor thrown suddenly into the midst of new conditions, is full of resource as Crusoe in his island. He does not hold himself at all bound to suffer without complaining. He freely tells his sorrows to his officers. His courage is of the kind that enables him, in the midst of slaughter, to go on cheer- fully swearing, and steadily serving his gun—whilst in boarding, or any kind of assault, he finds a madden- ing joy; but he would hardly enter into the spirit of an order which called upon him and his mates to stand still in straight lines under fire, keeping silence and not rushing forward. With the performance of his duties he blends a wild mirth. As though in his in- finite tenderness for all that he deems weak and help- less, he loves of all things to come ashore, with his exuberant health and strong will, to give a help to the landsmen. Sometimes in those early days of October, whilst our soldiery were lying upon the ground weary, languid, and silent, there used to be heard a strange uproar of men coming nearer and nearer. Soon, tfi. comers would prove to be Peel, of the Diamond, with a number of his sailors, all busy in dragging up to the front one of .the ship's heavy guns. Peel has died— has died young-in the service of his country; but such waS his zeal, such his energy, such his power of moving other men, that upon the whole his share of the gilt of life was fuH and rich. Apart from the mere beauty of his form and features, there was a fire in his nature which gave him in that time of war an all but preternatural radiance. But whilst he was guiding the labours of his people with eye and hand ana joyous words of direction or encouragement, the sailors used always to find their own way of evolving their strength. This they would do by speaking to the gun as to a sentient, responsible being, overwhelming it with terms of abuse; and, since it commonly happened that the stress of their pull at the ropes would get to be in some measure timed by the cadence of their words, it followed that at each execration the gun used to groan' and move forward, as though it were a grim, sullen lion obeying the voice of his keepers. TO FOUNDER OF THE CABMST FACTION. — Don Carlos, son of Marie of Portugal, the first wife of Philip II., was born at Valladolid, on the 9th of July, 1646. Weak and diseased, he showed from infancy a strange, irregular character, a violent dis- position, fierce and cruel instincts. A firm and yet gentle superintendence might easily have controlled these inauspicious qualities; but his father never showed to him aught but a hard and austere counten- ance. Periodical fevers, and a fall which rendered necessary the operation of trepanning, rendered his humour still more contrary. He became subject to terrible fits of passion. Anecdotes are related of him which reveal at once a cruel nature and an ill- regulated brain. When a child, he amused himself with roasting alive the hares caught by the hunters. When a man, he loved to traverse the streets at night, and, as Brantome says, "II ribler le pave," and to insult the women. In one of his nocturnal expe- ditions, it chanced that a pot of water was emptied upon his head from an upper window. Carlos, in a burst of fury, on his return to the palace, ordered his guards to set fire to the house. The officer who received the.cruel mandate durst not openly disobey it, but reported to the prince that he had seen a priest, with the holy sacrament, entering the habita- tion. Before a sacrilege Don Carlos recoiled.—Poiton'B Spain and Its People." NECESSITY OF SLEEP.—There are thousands of busy people who die every year for want of sleep. Sleeplessness becomes a disease, and is the precur- sor of insanity. We speak of sleep as the image of death, and our waking hours as the image of life. Sleep is not like death; for it is the period in which the waste of the system ceases, or is reduced to its minimum. Sleep repairs the waste which waking hours have made. It rebuilds the system. The night is the repair shop of the body. Every part of the system is silently overhauled, and all the organs, tissues, and substances are replenished. Waking consumes and exhausts; sleep replaces and repairs. A man who would be a good worker must be a good sleeper. A man has as much force in him as he has provided for in sleep. The quality of mental activity depends upon the quality of sleep. Man need on an average eight hours of sleep in a day. A lymphatic temperament may require nine; a nervous tempera- ment, six or seven. A lymphatic man is sluggish, moves and sleeps slowly. But a nervous man acts quickly in everything. He does more in an hour than a sluggish man in two hours; and so in his sleep. Every man must sleep according to his tem- perament; but eight hours is the average. Who- ever by work, pleasure, sorrow, or by any other cause, is regularly diminishing his sleep, is destroying his life. A man may hold out for a time, but the crash will come, and he will die.' There is a great deal of intemperance besides that of tobacco, opium, or brandy. Men are dissipated who overtax their systems all day, and undersleep every night. A man who dies of delirium tremens is no more a drunkard and a suicide than the minister, the lawyer, the merchant, the editor, or the printer, that works excessively all day and sleeps but little all night.—Henry Ward Buclter. A RUNAWAY RECArTUMp.—This is the story which Kigondo tells of how the runaway got into the hut « Kigondo said, when he had been seated, 'I saw this man carrying a bundle, and running hard, by which I knew that he was deserting you. We (my wife and 1) were sitting in our little watch-hut watch- ing our corn; and, as the road runs close by, this man was obliged to come close to us. We called to him when he was near, saying, Master, where are you going so fast P Are you deserting the Musungo, for we know you belong to bim^ since you bought from us yesterday two doti worth of meat. Yes," said he, "I am running away; I want to get to Simbamwenni. If you will take me there, I will give you a dpti" We said to him then, Come into our house, and we will talk it over quietly." When he was in our house in an inner room we locked him up and went out again to the watch; but leaving word with the women to look out for him. We knew that, if you wanted him, you would send askari (soldiers) after him. We had but lit our pipes when we saw two men armed with short guns, and having no loads, coming along the road, looking now and then on the ground, as if they were looking at footmarks. We know them to be the men we were expecting; so we hailed them, and said, Masters, what are ye looking for ?' They said,4 We are looking for a man who has deserted our piaster. Here are his footsteps. If you have been long in your hut you must have seen him. Can you tell me where he is ?' We said, Yes; he is in our house. If you will come with us, we will give him up to you; but your master must give us something for catching him. As Kigondo had promised to deliver Kingaru up, there remained nothing further to do for Uledi and Saxmian but to take charge of their prisoner, and bring hi™ and his captors to my camp on the western bank of the Maskata. Kingaru received two dozen