many a lovely dell; the shepherd has chanted it on the still mountain side; the rough sailor has filled up the pauses of his lonely watch by whistling it to the shrill winds and sullen waters; it has bowed the head, brought a tear to the eye, and recalled home and home thoughts to the mind of many a wanderer in a distant clime and on a foreign shore. It has been sung in the solitudes of nature and at the festive board. It has refreshed the worn-out heart of the worldling, and awakened in the soul of the outcast 'thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.' It has often been a source of consolation and joy to the penitent sinner, who recalled to mind the beautiful and touching hymns sung in his infancy at a loving mother's knee, who may have long gone to her eternal rest; and it will glide gently down the stream of time, cheering and soothing as it goes, from generation to generation!"

"Then give to me the old song,

The songs of early years;
They mind me of the days gone,
Those days of smiles and tears!

When hearts were young, and cares were few,
When friends were kind, and love was true!"

C. H. P.

Lord Salisbury. In the third volume of the "Life of Bishop Wilberforce we have some pleasant glimpses of Lord Salisbury. In the diary, under date December 12, 1868, when a guest at Hatfield, the Bishop writes, "Morning walk with Gladstone, Cardwell, and Salisbury. Gladstone, how struck with Salisbury, said he never saw a more perfect host.' And in a letter a few days after he repeats, "Gladstone remarked to me on the great power of charming and pleasant host-ing possessed by Lord Salisbury." In a letter to Sir Charles Anderson he tells of a day spent at Hatfield in January, 1871, and says, "Salisbury is a fine fellow. Such clear grip of intellect, and so high-minded in everything." Dining with him at his town house in 1872 he says in his diary, Salisbury charming; so fair, so kind, so simple and high-minded." And again in 1873, "Dined Salisbury's. Pleasant and sensible evening. Miss Alderson sang beautifully." Those who have judged Lord Salisbury only from his appearances as a party leader will be pleased with these notes. All who were present at the dinner of the Royal Literary Fund in 1882, where he presided, must have carried away an agreeable impression of his courteous and genial bearing, and of the modest yet manly tone of his speeches.

The late Dr. Moffat.-The death of Dr. Moffat removes one not unworthy to be numbered among those apostles of savage tribes to whom the childlike enthusiasm of an earlier age accorded the honour of canonisation. The nineteenth century has its saints and its martyrs not less than any of those that preceded it, and although we build no abbeys in their honour, they are not less worthy to be held in remembrance by mankind than St. Alban, or St. Helier, or any of the great missionary saints who spent their lives in civilising the rude barbarians of Europe. Bechuanas are, perhaps, more tractable than the vigorous Norsemen who first slew and then worshipped the messengers of the Cross, but the self-denying labours of Dr. Moffat at Kuruman lose none of their lustre because, unlike many of his fellows, the life which he often hazarded was never taken.-Pall Mall Gazette.

Primeval Londoners.-The following extract from a newspaper article, on the discovery of bones of extinct quadrupeds in London excavations for building purposes, is a curious example of the cool assumption with which non-scientific writers dogmatise upon points still under scientific discussion. The existence of anthropoid beings in the progressive stage from apes to men is a favourite theme with Darwinian theorists, and is thus referred to in "a leading journal": "At one time it must have been quite a matter of doubt and struggle whether the genus homo would or would not obtain precedence in creation. The ancient Londoner who saw alive and prevalent those animals whose fragments are now collected in Piccadilly bore his part-unconsciously but successfully—in that long-forgotten battle, and deserves, in a way, the celebrations of a conqueror. He was no doubt an animal himself-hardly distinguishable by aspect from the

anthropoid apes-speaking fewer and less intelligible words, than the Bushmen of Africa, if he spoke at all, and beyond doubt accustomed to eat the flesh of his fellows as readily as. that of any other denizen of the wilds. Yet, as surely as the clay deposits dug up under Drummond's Bank at Charing Cross were to become the foundations of another and later London, so was that earliest inhabitant of the Thames Valley destined to prepare the way for his successors who now people the great city. And in a fashion he did prepare it. After him, and because of his rough work, came the comparatively advanced race which knew of fire and metals, cattle and culture. If the beginnings of great things are momentous, if we feel pleasure in exploring the fountainheads of mighty rivers, then these bones, which remind us of the long-vanished but terrible struggle between primeval man, and his fierce rivals, ought to make us respect the cave dwelling Londoner. There must have been rare concealed gifts in the poor nameless biped to make him winner at last in the desperate battle against mammoths and cave lions."

Napoleon's Temper.-Readers of Madame Junot's gossip will quickly form an opinion as to the badness of Napoleon's temper. "What a pity that such a great man should be so ill-bred," remarked Talleyrand, after the Emperor had spite fully tweaked his ear in public; and it seems that the Emperor had a passion for pulling noses as well as ears, He sometimes pinched Madame Junot's nose till she shrieked, and even his caresses were so rough that on one occasion he reopened an old wound in General Junot's head by carelessly passing his hand through the wretched man's hair. His paroxysms of rage are said to have been awful, but they did not awe everybody, for when the little tyrant once lifted a cane to strike Vice-Admiral Bruat the latter placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, and said, "Take care, Sire." Pius VII again, when a prisoner at Fontainebleau, disconcerted the Emperor by placid sarcasm. Napoleon, talking on the Concordat, had worked himself into great excitement, and stamped about the room, unfolding his scheme for a Gallican Church. The Pope waited until he paused for breath, and then murmured the one word "Comediante!" Utterly maddened at this, the Emperor shook his fist, yelled, and swore; but the Pontiff's only answer was to smile with a pitying sweetness as he whispered " Tragediante!"

Australian Paper.-In Mr. J. Bonwick's work on the "First Twenty Years of Australia," some amusing facts are related respecting the "Sydney Gazette," the first newspaper started in the colony. Mr. Bonwick says: "For months together, during 1805 and 1806, it appeared with two pages foolscap only. One copy had four Government advertise. ments, and as many from the not very enterprising public, The issues of August 23 and 30, 1807, were on such small paper that the type had to be carried to the very edge, There were two pages of three columns each, having altos gether about 3,000 words. Subsequently there came a total suspension of the periodical. The great sorrow of the poor printer lay not in his wretched type, which only exasperated the reader, but from the inability of getting a supply of paper. This was of all sorts and sizes, as well as colour. It was in vain he advertised 'A liberal deduction to every subscriber furnishing paper; viz., six sheets of demy, eight of foolscap, or twelve of quarto letter paper.' He made this appeal August 31, 1806: To the public. As we have no certainty of an immediate supply of paper we cannot promise a publication next week.' On September 7 he intimated, 'Under the assurance of a further temporary supply of paper, we have been enabled to provide an exact sufficiency for this scanty publication.' That the worthy man was not at all particular may be seen from his advertisement of January 13, 1805 Wanted to purchase any quantity of demy, medium, folio post, or foolscap paper, for the use of printing, and which, if by any accident from damp, or slight mildew rendered unfit for writing, will answer the purpose."

Expense in Domestic Vanities.-I am no advocate for meanness of private habitation. I would fain introduce into it all magnificence, ease, beauty, where they are possible; but I would not have useless expense in unnoticed fineries or formalities; cornicings of ceilings and grainings of doors, and fringings of curtains, and thousands of such which have become foolishly and apathetically habitual things, on whose

common appliance hang whole trades, to which there never belonged the blessings of giving one ray of pleasure, or of becoming of the remotest or most contemptible use-things which cost half the expense of life, and destroy more than half its manliness, respectability, freshness, and comfort. I speak from experience; I know what it is to live in a cottage with a deal floor and roof and a hearth of mica slate; and I know it to be in many respects healthier and happier than living between a Turkey carpet and a gilded ceiling, beside a steel grate and polished fender. I do not say that such things have not their place and propriety; but I say this emphatically, that a tenth part of the expense which is sacrificed in domestic vanities, if not absolutely and meaninglessly lost in domestic comforts and incumbrances, would, if collectively offered and wisely employed, build a marble church for every town in England, such a church as it should be a joy and blessing even to pass near in our daily ways and walks, and as it would bring the light into the eyes to see from afar, lifting its height above the purple crowds of humbler roofs.-Ruskin.

Whither shall I send my son? and what Education should he have?—Major-General the Hon. W. Fielding has written some articles in the "Nineteenth Century" under the above heading. In the pressure of home life there is little room for a large proportion of the sons of the upper classes, and the general commends to them a colonial life. Special education is required for this, and the following is the list of qualifications which a new school is expected to give. The result to be attained at the age of eighteen is that he may be :

I. A thorough gentleman, with the instincts of honour and duty inherent in that character, and with a sufficient knowledge of Latin and Greek to enable him to be a complete master of the English language.

2. He should know enough of the elements of the science of agriculture to enable him to understand the laws and principles which govern the rotation of crops according to the varying conditions of climate, rainfall, etc. Besides the theory of farming, he should be able to use every description of plough, to drive teams of oxen or horses, and to skilfully use and to repair all the implements generally employed by farmers.

3. He should understand the breeding and rearing of horses, cattle, and sheep, the breaking in of horses and cattle to work of all descriptions, and the handling and shearing of sheep.

4. He should be able practically to construct rough timber bridges, dams, tanks, and artificial watercourses, both for irrigation and mill purposes, and possess such a knowledge of elementary statics, dynamics, and hydraulics as will enable him to understand the principles which govern the construction of works of that description.

5. He should, moreover, have a knowledge of rough surveying and levelling

6. A fair practical acquaintance with rough carpentering and the erection of that class of buildings used by settlers on the outskirts of civilisation

7. A knowledge of seamanship sufficient to enable him to work out a latitude and longitude, and to navigate and sail a lugger, cutter, or schooner. The construction of rafts and other contrivances for crossing streams or lakes should also form part of his education.

8. The principles and construction and use of the steamengine should be thoroughly understood, and a fair knowledge of the elements of natural and chemical science should also be acquired

9. An intimate and practical acquaintance with all the many arts and contrivances which enable an experienced traveller to exist in health and comparative comfort where a man ignorant of them would probably fall into ill health and

starve

10. A practical knowledge of cooking with and without those culinary articles deemed necessary in civilised life; the curing of fish and meat, and the preparation of hides for storage and for the market

11. The use of the woodman's axe and the cross-cut and pit saw, and the capability to sharpen tools of all sorts12. A sufficient knowlege of the trades of wheelwright and harness-maker, to carry out any ordinary repairs to waggons or harness.

13. In addition to the above he should know enough of

the sciences of geology and mineralogy to enable him to recognise the presence or proximity of coal, limestone, and the minerals generally found in the colony of his selection; together with a knowledge of the general principles which facilitate the discovery of subterranean water supplies.

14. A thorough knowledge of the keeping of accounts by single and double entry and an intimate acquaintance with the geography and history of the colonies are of course presupposed; as without the first named he would be incapable of keeping together any profits he might make, and without the latter he would be unfit for taking any prominent part in colonial affairs.

We should think that a youth with these accomplishments would be a king of men anywhere, and would scarcely need to emigrate !

Wooden Bells.-This morning-Christmas Day-the village was early astir, and soon after six the beating of the lalis summoned us to morning service. The lalis are the Fijian substitute for bells: a solid block of wood, six or eight feet in length, is hollowed out, like a canoe, and when struck with two sticks produces a deep reverberating tone, which is heard at an immense distance. Most villages have two of these lying side by side, and when struck by skilful players they are capable of producing an immense variety of notes. So you see we had Christmas chimes even in Fiji.—“ At Home in Fiji," by C. F. Gordon Cumming.

But

A Judge's Illogical Joke.-Lord Bramwell undertook (during the Lords' debate on the Marriage Bill) to prove that, if a man and his wife are one, then his wife is his own sister. Lest any one should think him jesting, he declared that the ready laughter of the House was uncalled-for. by a most extraordinary blunder, he actually ignored his own premiss, which, declaring the wife to be the man himself, makes the sisterly relation impossible. Even a logical jest should be logical.-Times.

Deaths from Snakes and Wild Beasts in India. From a gazetted notice it appears that in 1881 18,670 persons were killed by snakes in India, and 2,757 by wild animals; 43,609 head of cattle were destroyed by snakes and wild animals during the same year; 254,968 snakes and 15,274 wild animals were destroyed, and Rs. 102,810 disbursed by Government in rewards for their destruction.

Cigar Ends.-There are in Switzerland nineteen associations promoted for the purpose of collecting the discarded ends of cigars, selling them, and applying the proceeds to charitable purposes. An official report shows that for twelve months' operations these associations can show a net profit of 31,250 francs, with which 1,726 poor children were provided with clothing.

Cat and Fiddle.-This odd sign probably came from the old custom of exhibiting dancing cats in the streets. In "Pool's Twists and Turns about London Streets," a book about two hundred years old, the writer remarks: "I was teased by a half-naked boy strumming on his violin, while another urchin was, with the help of a whip, making two poor cats go through various feats of agility."

British Museum Reading-room.-While there are always a few authors engaged in learned researches, the majority of the frequenters are engaged in re-adapting old materials for popular use. "Here we are," said one of these compilers to another whom he met at the door-"here we are at our daily work, making new shoes out of old boots."

American Postage Stamps.-Nine tons of postage stamps, 52 tons of envelopes, 113 tons of postal cards, and 17 tons of newspaper wrappers were sold at the New York postoffice during 1882. The value of newspaper and periodical stamps sold was 439,802.88 dollars, and the total receipts of the office were 4,228,575.29 dollars.

Mineral Oil Lamps.-Every landing of every house in which such oils are used should be furnished with a scuttle or bucket of sand. Sand, if thrown upon burning oil, disintegrates it and puts out the flames, which water used in small quantities tends only to spread.

IT

T is a glorious afternoon; the air clear and hot, and full of the scent of China-trees, and the glint of humming-birds darting in and out among their purple blossoms. And the little Texas town was so still that it looked like a city in some wonderful dream. The very dogs were asleep. The oxen in the waggons patiently blinked their soft eyes; the negroes drowsed in the sunniest places they could find. The wide, long street-laid out for the future myriads-was like a picturesque painting. Log houses covered with white jasmine and scarlet honeysuckle alternated with deep, windowless stores of stone, and between the shaded sidewalks the broad, sandy street lay, in the white quivering air, like a river of sunshine.

Nowhere was there any sign of human life, except in front of Haney's Hotel, a square wooden structure, with low wide piazzas shading both storeys. Here, around the door, were half a dozen men lying back in tilted chairs, their big fawncoloured Mexican hats drawn over their browsdark men, sallow, and fiercely-whiskered, carelessly dressed, and remarkable for their air of perfect independence and serene indifference.

One in the group was, however, a complete contrast to all the others-a small fair man, not

young, but with a rosy, freckled face, greyishbrown hair, and thoughtful, sad, blue eyes. He alone seemed to be consciously awake. He sat with his elbows on his knees, supporting his face upon his level palms. A commonplace face enough, and yet it had a look that was strangely attractive-kind, and good, and strong-the look of a man who had been through deep waters, and come safely out on the other side.

From two to four o'clock there was scarcely a movement; then, as if some spell had been broken, the place awoke. There was first the trampling of horses, and the men on the piazza slowly raised themselves and looked towards the river. From it came a small body of men riding steadily, silently, swiftly. They drew rein as if they were one man before the hotel door, and waited. In a few moments their leader joined them. He was a handsome young fellow, with a clear-cut, clean-shaven face, resembling very much that of the first Napoleon. Most of the planters on the piazza spoke to him, and he answered with a recklessness that had something almost sad about it. But he made a splendid picture as he rode with his men slowly up the Avenue, the bright sunlight glinting on the steel of his arms. and the silver of his saddle trimmings, and touch

ing with kaleidoscopic effects the crimson and blue and fawn and black of his picturesque ranger

costume.

"What is Captain Nap after now?" asked an old Texan, rising and looking after him; "Indians?"

"Cattle or horses, more likely," was the answer; and the speaker lazily spit out a mass of chewed tobacco.

Then the small fair man turned squarely round, and said, distinctly,

66

Snyder, if I was you, I would call a spade a spade. If you think Captain Nap is a cattle thief, tell him so."

"Not much, Christopher. I would as soon be a mouse and bell the cat. A man's thoughts are his own, I reckon."

"Certainly; but it is not always best to hang them out in public, young man." Then he lifted his rifle, and, going to his oxen, said, "Geranium, Dick, it's about time we were moving."

The two oxen looked up sleepily, but, rising at once, they began to plod steadily homeward, Christopher keeping at their head. He was evidently a privileged character; Snyder had taken his reproof with a tolerant smile, and everybody that passed him had a kindly greeting. When he had got beyond the settlement, and on to the green prairie, he began to sing softly, and

other time, Dick; you are grand company, but we have been an hour coming three miles. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but it is getting dark, and we must foot it livelier."

Perhaps the increased pace was mere imagination, for when Christopher reached his home the great white moon was high in the sky, and the mocking-birds were thrilling the silence with melody. He loosed the oxen, took off their yokes, and said "Good-night" to them, as if they had been human beings, and they rubbed their heads against him with a dumb intelligence that was almost pathetic. Then he stood a moment and looked over the lovely plain, with its undulating waves of grass and flowers, and its little islands of oak and pecan. It was a vision of our lost Paradise, and he said softly, in a kind of adoration, "This is none other but the Gate of Heaven."

His little log house stood open; in fact, the honeysuckle had clambered so over the door that it would have been impossible to close it without breaking the vine, and that Christopher could not bring himself to do. He soon kindled a few sticks, put on his coffee-pot, and took from a cupboard some corn-bread and jerked beef. His face was placid and happy as he gratefully ate his simple supper, and when it was over he moved his raw-hide chair into the moonlight, and sat down to smoke and think.

his face brightened with every verse.

The oxen

frequently turned their large, soft eyes on him; they knew their master, and seemed to time their heavy steps to the music as readily as he did.

Very soon they fell into conversation. "These are bad roads, Geranium; but beasts are not expected to be particular about roads. What do you think of that young man, Dick? One should judge for the best. I know that is your opinion. If I wanted charity I would as lief ask it of a good beast as any other fellow-mortal." And he kept up, the same kind of nominal argument until the sun went down in a pomp beyond imagination. Then Christopher changed his tone. "Hurry, Geranium! We must talk the matter over some

In a short time he heard a footstep keeping time to a clear whistle, and it made him glad. He feared no man, and he wanted some one to talk to. Perhaps when he saw Captain Nap he was a little disappointed. He had hoped it might be some stranger from "the States" who would give him the latest news, and tell him how the world was moving. But the disappointment was only momentary; the Captain had long been familiar to him by report, he had defended him that very day, and love springs readily up after kind

words.

It was a coffee-pot Captain Nap wanted. He had neglected to put one in his camp utensils, and it would never do to go to the frontier without

a coffee-pot.

66

Christopher gave him his own. 'He could go to the village next day and get a new one," and then he "wondered if there was nothing else the captain wanted."

"Nothing, Christopher, unless you have a glass of whisky round."

"There is a bottle on the shelf. I bought it five years ago in case of snakes. Rattlesnake poison is pretty rough inside a man, but whisky can beat it." And Christopher looked so sad and still in the moonlight that the captain, very much to his own amazement, felt no further inclination to open the rattlesnake antidote. But in some strange way the men attracted each other. They talked on various topics, and the young man tried to accommodate his conversation to his unusual companionship. When his customary oath escaped him Christopher mildly said "he was against hearing his Maker spoken of in that way," and the captain swore no more in his presence. As he stood up to go, Christopher asked, “Where are you going this time, captain?"

"Cross Timbers and Comanche Peak." "Indians?"

"You are a Texas gentleman, Chris; why are you asking questions like a keen Yankee-or a Scotsman? There's M'Kinney's Scotch shepherd -if you tell him it is a fine day he'll ask you a question in reply."

"Perhaps I ask questions, then, because I am a Scotsman? I come from Aberdeen, and whiles I look over the prairie and fancy I see its granite spires glittering in the sun like a city of crystal."

"I beg pardon, I thought-well, I once heard that you were college-bred, and so I reckoned you was a-Yankee. No offence, I hope."

"I am college-bred. I wore the scarlet gown of the Marischal College, Aberdeen. God for ever bless her walls, and the braw lads who gather there."

"I reckon you studied for the law," said the captain, wishing to be as flattering as possible. "No. I studied for the ministry."

Possible? You are not a preacher now?" "No."

The conversation had come to a point from which the rough soldier could no longer pursue it. Still, though he could not understand the man before him, he felt that he had an extraordinary fascination; and after a silence which was perhaps more satisfactory than polite speech, he nodded his head in token of adieu, and went whistling softly away across the prairie. Christopher watched him until he was lost in the timber, then he fetched his blanket and pillow and laid them under a great live oak. The Gulf breeze had risen, and the melodious gurgle of that wonderful air of Western Texas was inexpressibly lulling. Christopher faced it with a prayer, and then lay down to sleep among the warm, dry grass, the whole State of Texas for his bedroom.

The acquaintance thus begun ripened slowly into a real friendship, although in all human judgment there was not a single element of sympathy between the men. Whenever Captain Nap was in camp he spent a great deal of his time with Christopher. Sometimes they smoked in silence hour

after hour, sometimes they talked the night away. Again, the young man would go on what he called "a regular tear," then Christopher hunted him up and took him away from the village; and thus in the course of three years ties were formed not easily sundered.

One night, when Captain Nap had been away much longer than usual, Christopher felt that he was coming back. It was a cold night. The deer had gone to the timber, the buffalo had gone west, and the wolves had followed their trail; but the cranes were still in flocks on the prairies, and their frequent challenging cry, "Kewrrooh! kewrrooh!" was like a pistol-shot in the rare, clear air. Perhaps it was this cry that made him guess Nap's approach, for nothing escapes these sentinels of the prairie.

"I should not wonder if the captain is coming," he said, confidentially, to Geranium, as he gave him a few extra ears of corn. "Dick, when he comes he'll look at that sore on your neck, he's mighty clever about such troubles." And the words were scarcely uttered when the well-known cheery whistle was heard in the distance.

Christopher's plain face brightened like a woman's, and, with a parting word to the oxen, he hurried away, for once not noticing that the creatures looked after him, perhaps with some painfully unintelligible feeling of jealousy. Never had the captain looked so gay and handsome. His clothing was unusually fine and picturesque, and a splendid Serape Saltillero hung from his shoulders, adding a kind of majesty to a form and face already remarkable for the true imperial look— that look which half coerces and wholly persuades.

"God bless you, Nap! I am right glad to see you!"

"I know it, Chris."

They sat over the blazing cedar logs, and for a while said very little. Nap smiled softly to himself-a smile of genuine happiness. Christopher watched him, and waited patiently for any news his companion might have to give him.

At length Nap fixed his fine eyes on his friend's placid face, moved close to him, gently touched his hand, and said, in a voice wonderfully sweet, Christopher, I'm in love! Oh, the fairest and sweetest woman! I'm in love, Christopher!" "I am very, very sorry:"

"Oh, no, you are not sorry; why should you be?"

"It is a risk few men are fit to take. If you lose in that venture it is a loss you can never measure or repair. Who is the girl? where did you see her?"

"Let me tell you, and don't be jealous of me, old Chris. We camped, three nights ago, by Dr. Hay's place on Orchard Creek.. Just at sunset I went over there to tell him there were twelve of his horses among a lot we had taken from some Comanche thiefs near Alvarado. A negro boy told me the doctor was in the house, and I went straight to the open door. He was not there, but

* Serape Saltillero, a blanket in which is interwoven gold and silver threads, so fine and soft that one can be put into a coat pocket. They are made only in the city of Saltillo, Mexico.