ALICE CARY’S SWEETEST POEM. 
[No apology i* needed at this lime for reproducing 
the following exquisil'* lines by the lamented A 1.1 Pic 
CAitv—lines a inch, in the judgment ol' so competent 
a critic us Ena Alt A. Dob. deserve to rank among tlio 
very finest contributions to the poetic literature of 
this country.) 
Of all the beautiful pictures 
That, hung on Memory’s wall, 
Is one of a dim old forest. 
Tit at .seemelh best of all s 
Not for it-* pnurlpd oaks olden, 
Dark with the mistletoe; 
Not for the violets golden 
That sprinkle the valobelow; 
Not for the itilllc white lilies 
That lean from the fragrant hedge, 
Coquetting all day with the sunbeams. 
And td toiling tlielr golden edge: 
Not for the vines on the upland 
Where the bright red berries rest; 
Nor the pinks, nor the pale, sweet cowslip, 
It soeiuct h to me the best. 
I once had u little brother 
With eyes that were dark and deep— 
In the lap of that olden forest 
lit* Jte-tli in peace asleep ; 
Light as tlio down of the thistle, 
Free as the winds that blow. 
We roved there the beautiful summers, 
The scnumeiT. of long ago; 
But his feel on the hills grew weary. 
Arid one of the autumn eves 
I made for my little brother 
A bed of the yellow leaves. 
Sweetly Ills pale firms folded 
My neck in a meek embrace, 
As the light of immortal beauty 
Silent ly covered his face ; 
And whi'ii the arrows ol sunset 
Lodged in Urn tree-tops bright 
He loll, in his saint-like beauty. 
Asleep by tlie gates of light. 
Therefore, of all the pictures 
Thai hang on Memory’s wall, 
The one of the dim old forest, 
Seemeth the best of all. 
QO 
dories for ( iWvi*it lists. 
THE PEASANT AND LAWYER. 
Translated from the French of Emile Souvestre for 
Moore's Uunil New-Yorker. 
Cities have their individuality as well as 
men — manufacturin'; or maritime, intelli¬ 
gent or frivolous, they always reveal by 
I heir physiognomy I he nat ure of their in¬ 
habitants. (lo through Rouen, Lyons, Brest 
or Strasbourg’, and look around you. lively 
thing which strikes your eye will be a reve¬ 
lation of tastes and habits; the history ol 
each population will he found, as one might 
say, written in the streets. One is especially 
struck with this trill It in visiting Rennes. 
To see its grand edifices, with their magis¬ 
terial air, its promenades, with scarcely here 
and there some pensive reader, you recog¬ 
nize at once the capital of the old Breton 
Duchy, the old seat, of Parliaments, the city 
of study, where all the thoughtful youths of 
the province come to cultivate their minds, 
for the prevalent air of ReUnes Is gravity; 
the whole city is calm and severe as a judg¬ 
ment hall, and indeed it is the dwelling 
place of the law. There you find its tem¬ 
ple, its high priests and its most fervent 
worshipers. They resort hither from the 
most remote parts of Brittany to seek coun¬ 
sel. To conic to Jtenues without consulting 
a lawyer appears as Impossible to a Breton 
as it would have been lo a Greek to pass the 
temple of Delphos without interrogating the 
Pythoness, 
This was as true towards the end of the 
last century as it. is to-day, and especially of 
the peasants, a race rendered limid by ex¬ 
perience and accustomed to take precau¬ 
tions. So then it. happened, one day, that a 
farmer, having come to Rennes for some 
bargain, concluded, after his business was 
finished, that as he still had some liours of 
leisure, h would be well for him to employ 
them in consulting n lawyer, lie had often 
heard M, Potiku m-: la Germondaie 
spoken of, whose reputation was so great 
that a cause was deemed already gained, if 
it were supported by his opinion. The 
peasant asked his address and repaired to 
him in St. George street. The clients were 
numerous, and Bernard had lo wait a long 
time; at last his turn came anil lie was in¬ 
troduced. M. Potirr Dli la Oermondaie 
signed to him to sit down, laid his .specta¬ 
cles on the desk, and asked what lie came for. 
“Faith! Air. Advocate," said the farmer, 
twisting Ilia hat, “ I have heard so much 
talk of yon that, as 1 was here, 1 thought 1 
would take the chance of consulting you.” 
“ I thank you for your confidence, m y 
friend,” said AI. Germondaik; “hut you 
have some suit, I suppose?” 
“Sail? I abominate them, and Peter 
Bernard never had a word with anybody." 
“ Then it is a settlement, a family division V” 
“Excuse me, Air. Advocate; my family 
and myself have never had any division to 
make, seeing we cal out of the same cup¬ 
board, as they say.” 
“ 11. concerns some purchase or sale, then ?” 
“ Oh, no indeed ! I am not rich enough 
to buy, nor yet poor enough to have to sell 
out." 
“ But what do you want with me, then ?" 
asked the astonished lawyer. 
Oh, well! I have told you, sir,” replied 
Bernard, with a loud, embarrassed laugh; 
“ 1 want an opinion —for money, understand 
—because I am here, at Rennes, and 1 must 
profit by the occasion.” 
I AI. Germondaik smiled, took a pen and 
paper, and asked his name. 
“Peter Bernard,” replied lie, happy to 
he understood at last. 
“ Your age?” 
“ Thirty years, or near about." 
“ Your profession ?" 
“ Aly profession?—oh, yes; what I do? 
I am a farmer. 
The lawyer wrote two lines, folded the 
paper and handed it to bis strange client. 
“ Is it finished already?” cried Bernard; 
oh, well!—that’s lucky ; one has not time to 
grow mouldy, as they say. IIow much is 
it worth, this opinion, Air. Lawyer?** 
“ Three francs.” 
Bernard paid wit hout complaint, scraped 
his foot, and went out, enchanted with hav¬ 
ing profiled by the occasion. 
When he reached home it was already 
four o’clock. The trip had tired him, and 
ho went in determined to rest. However, 
his hay hud been cal two days before, and 
was completely dry. One of his boys came V> 
ask if be must bring if in. “ This evening ?" 
interrupted the farmer’s wife, who had Joined 
her husband, “ it would he a shame to go 
work so late, when you could doit to-mor¬ 
row without tiring yourself.” The hoy re¬ 
marked that the weather might change, that 
the teams were ready and the hands unem¬ 
ployed. The. wife replied that the wind was 
from a good quarter, and that the night 
would soon interrupt them. 
Bernard, listening to both sides, did not 
know how to decide, when suddenly lie rec¬ 
ollected the lawyer’s paper. “ Slop a min¬ 
ute!” cried lie, “ I have got. an ‘opinion’ 
here; it is from a famous man, and cost me 
three fran<38. That, ought to settle if. Let 
us see. Thkukse, toll us what iL says, you 
who can read all writing.” 
The wife took the paper and read, hesitat¬ 
ing, these two lines: “ Never put off till to¬ 
morrow what you, can do to-day. 
“There it is,” cried Bernard, struck as 
with a ray of light. “Come, get the carts 
quick 1 Girls, boys, let US get, in the hay." 
Still his wife tried to make objections, hut 
he declared that people did not buy an 
“opinion” for three francs for nothing, and 
they must follow the lawyer’s advice, lie 
himself set (he example at the head of his 
laborers, and worked until all the hay was 
got in. The event seemed sent on purpose 
to prove the wisdom of his conduel, for the 
weather changed during the night, a sudden 
storm burst over the village, and the next 
day at dawn they perceived the river over¬ 
flowing ihe meadows and carrying off the 
new cm Inty. The harvests of all the neigh¬ 
boring farmers were completely destroyed. 
Bernard alone lost nothing. This first ex¬ 
perience gave him such faith in the. lawyer’s 
opinion that from that day he took it for the 
rule of his conduct, and became, thanks to 
Ills regularity and diligence, one of the 
richest, farmers of the country. He never for¬ 
got, eillier, the service AI. Germondaie had 
rendered him, hut carried him every year, 
from gratitude, a couple Of his fa Lies l fowls, 
and was accumsloined to say to his neigh¬ 
bors, whenever they spoke of lawyers, that 
“ after the laws of God and the Church, the 
most profitable thing in the world was a 
lawyer’s ‘ opinion.’” 
-♦♦♦- 
BACHELOR’S DILEMMA, 
AND HOW IT DROVE HIM TO THE WALL. 
“ And don’t yon know when you will pass 
through this part of the country agaiu, Air. 
Verley ?” 
“ No, I don’t,” said the old bachelor, de¬ 
cidedly. 
lie was something of a bear, to answer so 
crustily when Barbara Smith stood in the 
doorway, with the shadowy lashes drooping 
over the soft brown eyes, and rosesmelting 
into deep carmine on her rosy cheeks, until 
her muslin dress was plain in comparison. 
Such a pretty, big-eyed,loving little Barbara 
ns site was, in all the blonde freshness of lie)’ 
eighteen Hummers, and the soft sigli that, flut¬ 
tered from her lips as the one-horse carriage 
drove away, was cheeked instantly. Barba¬ 
ra had no idea of becoming a victim to unre¬ 
quited love, though she had rather fancied , 
Air. Verley during his brief sojourn at her 
father’s house. 
Air. Verlev drove away through the rust¬ 
ling green draperies of the summer lanes, 
whistling sadly as he drove. 
“ I shall he in very good time for the I2:d0 
train," he meditated to himself. “ Punctu¬ 
al by is the soul of business, and I never was 
one ol the behiml-hand tribe, thank Provi¬ 
dence. Besides, I think it was becoming 
dangerous to remain in that place any longer. 
1 am thirty-nine to-morrow, and that is just 
twenty years too old for me to go making a 
fool of myself. Fancy me getting married ! 
No you don’t, Joseph Verley, my friend.” 
As he settled himself comfortably in the 
crowded railway car, and opened the letter, 
the subject again occurred to liis mind with 
curious persistence. 
“ The letter of my poor brother’s executor 
came just in time, or I should certainly have 
fooled away more time than would have been 
sensible or profitable. Poor dear Harold; I 
don’t see what on earth possessed him to fall 
sick and die on his way home from Venice 
and leave his daughter on my bauds, too. 
Why could he not have left, it soil instead of 
a daughter? I never did understand a wo¬ 
man’s ways, and what’s more, I don’t want 
to. I am to meet her at Speed ville, and take 
her home with me. “ 0!” groaned Air. 
Verley, referring despairingly to his letter. 
“And what, I’m going to do with her when 
I gel there. I’d like to know ! 1 suppose 
she’s a great creature, with ringlets and rib¬ 
bons, and just as likely as not an Italian 
lover talking sentiment to her—a creature 
that reads Byron and keeps an album, and 
eats slate pencils and chalk. J ’ll send her 
to a boarding school-—that’s what I’ll do 
with my niece—and perhaps, when site has 
graduated there, the schoolmaster can sug¬ 
gest some means of gelling rid of her. Of 
course, she’ll have a dozen large trunks, and 
a bonnet box and a parrot’s cage; that’s the 
way women generally travel, I believe. I 
am glad 1 am out of the way of Barbara’s 
fascinations now." 
Mr. Verley looked out of the car window, 
in a sort of calm desperation at the prospect 
before him. 
“ I suppose she’ll want a piano, and maybe 
a poodle dog, and there’s no knowing what 
else. 1 don’t see why Harokl wanted to tlio 
and leave Ids daughter to my care just now. 
Spcedville station ; twenty-seven miles lar- 
ther. 1 wish it was twenty-seven hundred 
miles; that’s what I wish.” 
And with this vindictive sentiment in his 
mind, our hero tied a red silk handkerchief 
over his head, and tried to lose himself in a 
series of brief, troubled dreams, wherein the 
vision of a tall, nice young lady figured con¬ 
spicuously. 
“Are we hero already?” he stammered, 
starting to his feet, as the conductor bawled 
out, “ Spcedville Station!” and seizing um¬ 
brella, valise and traveling shawl, with the 
hustling bewilderment peculiar to people 
just aroused from sleep, lit; alighted. 
Spcedville was rather a large sized village, 
situated at the junction of several railways, 
with an imposing American Gothic struc¬ 
ture for a depot. Into the building Mr. Ver¬ 
ley walked, looked right and left for the 
young lady whose guardianship lie was to 
assume. 
“Of course,” he responded mentally, 
“she’ll lie on ilie lookout forme; women 
are proverbially curious.” 
But Harold Verley’s daughter was not on 
t he lookout for her uncle. When the crowd 
incident to the evening M’a.UL,had subsided, 
and the people had gone their different wa vs, 
the only remaining occupants of the depot 
were Air. Verley, a lame old man who sold 
peanuts and apples, and a decent looking 
colored woman, with a bright Madras tur¬ 
ban on her head, who took care of Ihe build¬ 
ing. Neither of these could be his niece, so 
AI i\ Verley, after a little perplexed hesitation, 
addressed himself to ihe colored woman, 
who was busily polishing the windows with 
a piece of crumbled newspaper. 
“ Ahem! I was to meet my niece here to¬ 
day, and 1 don’t see her.” 
“ Your niece, sir? what is her name?” 
“ Verley.” 
“Oil! yes, sir; she. has been here these 
two hours, bless her dear heart; she is Asleep 
now.” 
“Asleep!” gasped Air. Verley; but the 
stewardess only answered him by bustling 
into the inner apartment and bringing out 
what appeared lobe a Compact bundle, with 
a pink face at one end of it, ami a mass of 
long, trailing embroidery at the other. 
Joseph Verley recoiled as far as the angle 
of the door would permit him. 
" Why—it’s a baby !” 
“To be sure it is, sir," said the woman, 
“ and ns fine a little girl as ever 1 saw ; bless 
her sweet blue eyes.” 
“ But isn’t there a nurse or some such 
person here, who would lake charge, of her ?” 
“There was a nurse brought her on, sir, 
a queer, foreign-looking thing, with a yellow 
skin and hair as black as night, and gold 
hoops in her cars; but site talked and talk¬ 
ed, something about the next steamer—I 
couldn’t understand her lingo, sir—and went 
right back to Now York on the two o’clock 
train.” 
Joseph Verley stood aghast, staring at the 
rosy baby as it lay crowing in the'woman’s 
arms, and wondering which of his lucky 
stars he should call on to aid him in this 
unlooked-for emergency. A full-grown 
young lady niece would have been bad 
enough — but a baby I 
“ So this is my niece,” he muttered. 
“And what am 1 going to do with lier?” 
lie turned suddenly to the woman. 
“ What time does the next train for Win¬ 
field leave?” 
“ In an hour, sir.” 
“ Would you be kind enough to take care 
of the child till then? I suppose I must 
take it home with me; for I can’t very well 
drown it, or throw it under the car wheels.” 
“ Sir," ejaculated the astonished stew¬ 
ardess. 
But Air. Verley turned on his heels and 
strode out of the depot, scarcely able at first 
to comprehend the disaster that had befallen 
him. 
The train was at the depot when he re¬ 
turned, and the woman awaited him with 
the sleeping infant in her arms. 
“ Asleep, eh ?” commented Air. Verley. 
“ Well, that’s lucky. 
“Where’s the nurse, sir?” inquired the 
woman. 
“ The nurse ? What nurse ?” 
“ Why, 1 suppose you want to get a nurse 1” 
“Never once thought of it!” ejaculated 
Joseph, madly smiting his forehead. “ Here 
— give tlte thing to me quick, the train is 
moving.” 
lie had hardly time to spring on hoard as 
the locomotive gave an unearthly shriek, 
while the baby followed suit vigorously. 
He staggered to Ids scat, holding the um¬ 
brella and the child in one hand, while in 
the other his valise swung backward and 
forward. 
“ There, there, bless ils little heart!” he ex¬ 
claimed, imitating the Colored woman. "We 
won’t cry, so we won’t.” 
But Lite baby evidently had an opinion of 
her own on the subject, and would cry in 
spile of various blandishments practiced by 
ilie bewildered uncle—such as shaking the 
umbrella handle, sw inging his watch, and 
trotting both knees. 
People began to look around reproachful¬ 
ly; young men shrugged their shoulders and 
young ladies giggled. 
“Hush! hash! there’s a darling,” whis¬ 
pered Air. Verley. 
But still the baby w'ept, and wailed, and 
gnashed its gums, for of teeth it had hut two. 
Mr. Verley began to look around in the car, 
in search of some matronly dame of whom 
he could seek counsel, but in vain. There 
were only three ladies in the car, and they 
were young, with round hats and dimpled 
cheeks. 
“They don’t know anything about it,” 
groaned Mr. Verley, in anguish of spirit. 
“Oli, why didn’t 1 have common sense 
enough to go and get a nurse? 1 suppose 
them is no danger of a baby bursting its 
lungs ; but 1 should think if there was such 
;t contingency, this baby was in a fair way 
of meeting it. Well, roar away my young 
friend ; 1 can stand i! as long as you can.” 
Vain boast, ns futile as vain, as Air. Verley 
very soon discovered. The baby not only 
cried, but ii screamed, it kicked, it doubled 
itself over in more ways than a contortion¬ 
ist's wildest dreams could imagine, and be¬ 
came apparently frantic with passion. The 
perspiration broke out in huge heads on Jo¬ 
seph's brow ; his face flushed, and still the 
cars thundered on. 
“ What's to become of me?” lie pondered, 
holding desperately on to the struggling in¬ 
fant by the sash that encircled its little waist, 
and watching its purple face with a species 
of detestation. “I don’t wonder Harold died. 
1 shall die in a week if this tiling goes on. 
And it seems so easy for Barbara Smith to 
take care of her little brothers and sisters, if 
Barbara Smith were here.” 
And Verley pulled the baby up into a sit¬ 
ting posture with a sudden jerk. 
“I’ll do it,” quoth Mr. Verley. “I’ll take 
the back express at four in the morning and 
go straight there. Ah, you stop crying, you 
little hypocrite, hut it won’t do any good ; 
I’m not to he caught twice in the same trap.” 
Barbara Smith was watering her tuberoses 
in the bright sunshine, when he arrived with 
his valise and baby. 
“Dear me, Mr. Verley,” she ejaculated, 
blushing “ celestial rosy red.” “ Why, what 
a sweet baby.” 
“ Yes, very sweet,” he responded, dryly. 
“ It is my niece that I was to meet at Speed- 
ville.” 
“ Whv, I thought that she was a young 
lady!” ' 
“ So did I, hut it seems she’s not. Bar¬ 
bara, a vital do you suppose brought me 
hack ?" lie added, speaking very fast for fear 
the baby would cry. 
“I don’t know,” faltered Barbara, crim¬ 
soning still more. “Perhaps you forgot 
something.” 
“ Yes, l did.” 
“ What was it?” said Barbara, a little 
disappointed. 
“ I forgot to ask you if you would marry 
me 1” 
“ Dear me, was that all ?” said the young 
lady, demurely. 
“ Isn’t that enough. Say, Barbara, will 
you ?” 
“ I’ll think of it,” answered Barbara, eva¬ 
sively. 
“ No, hut tell me now. Quick—the baby’s 
waking up.” 
“ Well, then—yes.” 
Barbara had taken the little thing in her 
arras, and disappeared before he had time to 
utter his waking yell. 
A week afterwards Air. Joseph Verley 
took the 1*3:550 return train with his wife and 
niece, the happiest of reclaimed old bache¬ 
lors, and it was all the unconscious baby’s 
work. 
-- 
See the sack open before you buy wlint is 
in it, for he who trades in the dark asks to 
be cheated.— Spurgeon . 
TEE TWINS: 
PLOT OF A CHINESE NOVEL. 
Here is the plot of a Chinese novel called 
“The Twins.” It is given in a recent review 
of Chinese literature: 
A husband and wife, after years of bicker¬ 
ing, finally differ seriously about the mar¬ 
riage of their twin daughters. These lovely 
girls are as sweet and charming ns the t win 
blossoms of the brilliant rose, or the flowers 
of the odorous herb bending before the 
breeze. 
The husband is absolutely determined to 
dispose of them according to his own choice, 
and the wife, with equal obstinacy, claims 
the same right. The parents each select 
their favorite suitors, and the marriage pres¬ 
ents, which are an indispensable prelimi¬ 
nary, tire brought to the house at the same 
moment. 
The irate father drives away with con¬ 
tumely the porters who hear the presents 
sent by the suitors chosen by the mother, and 
his wife flings away those presented by her 
husband’s favorite. 
The debate waxes warmer, and threatens 
to become interminable, and the case is at 
length carried before ihe official who lias 
legal jurisdiction over contests between 
parents. The magistrate is a prudent and 
worthy man, who, after listening caivfiilly 
to the question at issue, demands that the 
daughters shall he summoned. 
The young girls are brought, and kneel 
before the tribunal. The magistrate per¬ 
mits them to remain silent, hut orders them 
to exhibit their preference by bowing either 
to the right, where the suitors chosen by the 
mother are arranged, or to Ihe left, where 
stand those selected by the father. 
The four suitors are equally repulsive to 
the girls, and the twins perseveriugly how 
their heads and rest their c 3 ’os steadily upon 
the floor. The magistrate, appreciating the 
feelings of the daughters, instantly dismisses 
all the suitors, ami endeavors to negotiate a 
peace between the belligerents; hut as he 
fails utterly in his pacific intentions, he pro¬ 
poses a plan of adjustment — the Chinese 
specific for the cure of all evils—a competi¬ 
tive examination. 
The t wo men who shall prepare the best 
essays upon a given subject shall become the 
husbands of the twins. No possible objection 
can he offered to such an admirable scheme, 
and the examination takes place. But, un¬ 
fortunately, only one essay is found worthy 
of acceptance, and the author til it absolute¬ 
ly refuses to he married, because the Higher 
Powers have condemned him to celibacy, 
lie explains that he lias been six times be¬ 
trothed and six times have his lady loves 
died suddenly as the victims of a terrible 
fate. Learned astrologers consulted upon 
the subject, have declared that he will al¬ 
ways he the subject of misfortune to a wife. 
“ Perhaps SO,” answers the wise magistrate, 
“you will be the cause of misfortune to a 
wife, but not. to two.” 
An argument so irresistible overwhelms nil 
present, the difficulties are vanquished, and 
the fortunate essayist happily marries both 
the twins. 
-♦♦♦- 
GOOD ADVICE. 
Spurgeon scntcntiously expresses a num¬ 
ber of thoughts worth remembering, in the 
following appropriate sentences, which he 
publishes as “advicegratis:” 
When you see a man with a great deal of 
religion displayed in his shop window, you 
may depend upon it he keeps a very small 
stock of it within. 
Do not choose your friend by his looks; 
handsome shoes often pinch the feet. 
By no means pul yourself in another per¬ 
son’s power; If you put your thumb between 
two grinders, they are very apt lo bite. 
Drink nothing without seeing it; sign 
nothing without reading it; and make sure 
that it means no more than it says. 
Don’t go to law unless you have nothing 
to lose; lawyers’houses are built on fools’ 
heads. 
Put no dependence on the label of a hag, 
and count the money after your own kin. 
In any business never wade in the water 
where you cannot see the bottom. 
Keep clear of a man who docs not value 
his own character. 
WITHOUT AN ENEMY. 
Heaven help the man who imagines he 
can dodge enemies by trying to please every¬ 
body ! If such an individual ever succeeded, 
we should be glad of it—not that one should 
he going through the world trying to find 
beams to knock and thump his head against, 
disputing every man’s opinion, fighting and 
elbowing, and crowding all who differ from 
him. That, again, is another extreme. 
Other people have their opinions—so have 
you; don’t fall into the error of supposing 
'they will respect you more for turning your 
rout every day, to match the color of theirs. 
Wear your own colors, in spite of winds and 
weather, storms and sunshine. It costs the 
vaccilating and irresolute ten times the 
trouble to wind and shuttle and tw ist than 
it does honest, manly independence to stand 
its ground. 
