ass 
Randall did. But, for some reason, she did not 
enjoy It as she had In former times. Everything 
lacked tone and Interest, and she looked back 
with a sigh to the quiet conversation In aunt 
Ruth's sick-room. She flaw but little of Doctor 
Randall. He seemed engrossed by the gentle¬ 
men. The fact was. he avoided her ; for. when 
he faw her so sought by her young friends, no 
party being complete without her, the delight 
and joy of all, he began to fear that toe societ y 
of a dull student like himself must be irksome, 
and ho only then discovered what it would be 
to him to have her always. 
Towards the close of the. visit Doctor Randall 
proposed that the parly should transfer i.hera- 
selves to his place for a week or so. This Invi¬ 
tation was hailed with delight; for Randall 
Place, with Its majestic trees, beautiful views, 
longavenues, grassy lawns and above all, grand, 
mysterious rooms, closed since his mother's 
death, were objects of Interest to all. Not the 
smallest of Kitty’s pleasures was that she found 
dear Aunt Ruth there. Hut yet Kitty carried a 
dreary heart the while : it seemed to her that 
all her Interest In life was concentrated in this 
one spot, and how soon she was to leave it! 
One day Doctor Randall sat In his library- 
alone, his head buried In his hands. A unt Ruth 
came softly In. She saw his look of wretched¬ 
ness. 
“Thee ought to be a happy man, Hugh Ran¬ 
dall, with theso broad lands, and thy great 
opportunities to do good. But thee does not 
look so.” 
“Aunt Ruth, I would give all of this, and 
more, for the one little ewe lamb that is not 
mine." 
“ What does thee mean, Hugh?” 
“I mean that my selfish heart pines for your 
little Kitty.” 
Aunt Ruth walked out of the library with 
more celerity than her aged body usually per¬ 
mitted, went to Kitty’s room, in a manner that 
might be caded excited, and said— 
“ Katharine, go to the library; the doctor has 
need of thee." 
Kitty hastened, a little alarmed. 
“Aunt Ruth says you want me, Doctor." 
14 J do want you—I do! What else did she tell 
you? That my- whole being is crying out for 
you, that my heart is hungry and Insatiable? 
But I did not mean to disturb your happy life 
I did not mean this knowledge to oome to y-ou.” 
Kitty turned her sweet, true face full upon 
him. 
“ Doctor Randall, In all the world there is 
nothing I would rather have than your love." 
She lias been Ills wife now for six months. 
Mrs. Randall is a. good and noble woman, 
Doctor Randall Is a good and noble man ; and 
there is no reason why they should not lead 
good and noble lives. Aunt Ruth has closed 
her little house, and Is their honored guest. 
KHty still strives ardently to keep her resolu¬ 
tion, but her husband thinks she never had 
need to make It.—M. l«. P., in QtnmnnUiUOn Tele¬ 
graph. _ _ _ 
A TOUCHING INCIDENT. 
The Chicago Times relates the following 
relative to the tribute of a Northern Mother to 
a Southern Soldier: 
A little incident like I bo following will lend 
more toward bringing about a healthy feeling 
of kindliness between the North and the South 
than all the formal reconciliation that officious 
and ingenious minds can devise. A New York 
lady noticing that Major Jones of Montgomery, 
Alabama, In pronouncing an oration over the 
confederate dead had none but kindly words 
for those who fell on the other side, and ex¬ 
pressed himself eloquently and feelingly in 
favor of complete reconciliation, conuffissloned 
a Jewelry firm to send him a silver cup suitably 
engraved as expressive of her appreciation of 
the sentiments he expressed and the regard for 
him which they gave rise to. Her name was 
withheld at her desire, but her letter to the 
jeweler was forwarded with the testimonial. 
In it she said, “ The war widowed roe and took 
away my two sons. For a long time I felt as If 
I could never forgive those who slew the 
defenders of the “ Stars ana Stripes." but when 
I think of the war-widowed mothers of the 
South, and see such language as this, it makes 
me tenderer and juster to the 8outh. I feel 
that men like Major Jones must be noble and 
true in heart, and they fought and died because 
they thought it was right. I want them to feel 
that such r aliments echo in the Northern 
age, who died within ten years of each other, 
in actual encounter with the monster of the 
deep. An old whaleman who had escaped death 
several times used to declare that he only 
lived “ on borrowed time, a monumentof God’s 
infinite meroy.” We may also mention here 
the case of Captain James Huntllng as an ex¬ 
ample of a whaleman’s endurance. His boat 
was upset and rolled over him by- « large sperm 
whale. When he rose to the surface he was 
entangled in the line and struggled bard to free 
himself, but before bo could succeed ho was 
jerked out of sight of his horrified shipmates. 
A bight of line yet attached to the whale was 
nrouml his ankle. Drawing himself nearer the 
retreating animal, he drew a sheath-knife and 
managed to cut the cord. When he again car- e 
to Lhe surface a boat rescued him and conveyed 
him to the ship. His ankle was broken, and in 
the presence ot his men he set It himself and 
then resumed Itis Usual duties. 
Captain Davi mentions a sperm whale which 
first wrecked two boats and afterward charged 
at the ship, tearing away the cut-water and the 
copper sheath log around the bow. Several har¬ 
poons, lauces ami bomb-Iftooes were fired into 
him without effect. During the night he re¬ 
mained on the surface in the vicinity of the 
wrecked boats, and was frequently heard fight¬ 
ing the fragments. On the following day thirty- 
one bomb-lauccs more, each containing half a 
pouud of gunpowder, were exploded lu him 
before he yielded. The monster produced 115 
barrels of oil, half of it head matter. Fin-back 
whales arc even more dangerous than sperm. 
They are occasionally 130 foot long and extreme¬ 
ly swift and powerful in their motions. But 
their blubber is thin and the whalebone scant, 
and they are considered less valuable than 
others of the species .—Harper's Magazine. 
- - - 
A MAN SUES FOR BREACH OF PROMISE. 
Ottawa, III., is the scene of a suit for breach 
of promise of marriage, brought by a disap¬ 
pointed male. The circumstances are given in 
the Chicago Post: “Three years ago an agent 
for a prominent agricultural warehouse fol¬ 
lowed ids wife to the tomb with sobs and sighs 
and walling. He placed a band of crape around 
Ills hat and wore it In memory of his once 
beloved. As time wore on, however, he began 
to lift his eyes from the ground and look more 
animated and buoyant, and Ln the course of six 
months he determined to pay court to a buxom 
young widow ill Carroll County. She owned a 
nice farm, and, being a dealer in agricultural 
Implements, he experienced but little difficulty 
in making her acquaintance'. 
He represented himseli to her as tine of the 
lending business men of Freeport, assuring her 
that ho was doing an extensive business and 
was growing rici fast. He made her several 
costly presents of jewelry, which she apprecia¬ 
ted. Their attachment was strong, and lie de¬ 
termined to “pop the question ” before It grew 
cold. Ho asked her heart and hand ; the con¬ 
sented, the day was set, and all looked lovely 
and serene. He then asked that she give him a 
mortgage on her farm, saying he wanted to in¬ 
crease his facilities for business and carry it on 
on a more extended scale. She refused to com¬ 
ply with his wish, and said that he evidently 
made love to her for her farm, and not for her¬ 
self, and thereupon she broke the engagement, 
and Ms hopes of gaining the farm were blasted. 
He now sues for breach of promise. He claims 
$500 and say# his lacerated feelings will he sat¬ 
isfied with that amount. 
never desert William. William appealed to, to 
establish his respectability by affidavits. Wil¬ 
liam prompt to do so, and while stern father 
looks over the documents, stands aside with a 
look on his fine countenance of w ounded pride, 
not unmingled with an expression of triumph. 
Suddenly, however, William discovers among 
the papers one, at t he sight of which he turns 
pale. Stern papa bold3 on it, and William 
seizes Ilia hat and disappears from the mansion. 
Letter opened and found to be from William's 
wife, upbraiding him for his heartless desertion 
of her and her two children, leaving them in a 
state of utter destitution. True Htory. Facts 
found in Brooklyn Times. No cards. 
A MEDICAL MONKEY. 
All previous narratives of intelligent pro¬ 
ceedings on the part of animals are thrown into 
the shade by the following account of a medi¬ 
cal monkey, described by the Oriental cotrea- 
pondence of a London JournalHe one day 
saw a monkey holding a snake by the throat 
and rubbing its head in the dirt, but as the 
ground was moist and damp, tbesnske was not 
readily killed by this mode of punishment. 
Every now and then the monkey would look 
most knowingly in the face of the reptile to see 
if it w-as dead, and in the course of one of these 
Investigations the monkey received a severe 
bite. This angered him and he speedily dis- 
patohed the snake, but its coils had hardly re¬ 
laxed before the monkey reeled and fell pros¬ 
trate, and apparently In all the agonies of death 
by poisoD. By this time an aged-looking mon 
. ,V * “f key arrived on the scene, and after examining 
heart, and in truth tend to draw the whole tfa0 bodies of tbe tnaUe and lts viotim , be im- 
country together for Its sealing." The cup, as 
received by the major, was Inscribed as follows : 
To 
MAJOR THOMAS G. JONES, 
The Orator on Confederate Memorial Day, 
April, 1874; 
from 
A Northern woman, widowed and bereft 
of her sons by the War, 
As a token of her appreciation of the 
Soldierly words, spoken In kindness of 
The Northern Dead. 
--- 
THE PERILS OF WHALEMEN. 
In the pretty cemetery at Sag Harbor, Long 
Island, there is a marble monument bearing a 
touching record. It is in the form of a broken 
ship’s mast, with an unstranded hawser twisted 
around the foot, and engraved upon it are the 
names of six captains of whale ships belonging 
to the town, all of them under thirty years of 
mediately started for some neighboring bushes, 
where he collected some leaves of the plant 
known as the red clierchlta. These he rapidly 
and skillfully fashioned into a sort of pill, 
which he administered to his snake-bitten 
companion, who speedily revived and walked 
off with his physician. The story is declared 
to come from trustworthy sources. 
-♦♦♦—- 
A BROOKLYN ROMANCE. 
Prudence and love don’t go hand in hand, as 
many have found to their cost. The following 
is condensed, but tells how a young lady might 
have made a wreck of herselfYoung lady in 
Brooklyn. Acquainted with a young man just 
tw o days. Consents to marry him. Letter re¬ 
ceived by parents, stating that young man is a 
consummate scoundrel, and doesn’t own even 
the clothes be has on. Young lady declares, of 
course, that the letter is a base forgery, emana¬ 
ting from some rival for her hand, and will 
THE LATE M. GUIZOT. 
The recent death of the eminent French 
scholar and statesman, Guizot, has attracted 
wide attention and comment. As the event is 
one of more than ordinary interest we transfer 
from the London Graphic- the portrait given on 
preceding page, and the following 
U 10(1 II ATI 11C A L SKETCH OT GUIZOT. 
Francis Pierre Guillaume Guizot, who 
died at Val Richer, France, Sept. 12tb, was born 
at Nismes, where his father was an eminent 
advocate, on October 4th, 1787. The family 
were Protestants—a word which In Franco im¬ 
plies Calvinists. During the Reign of Terror ln 
l7U4 his father suffered death by the guillotine, 
and young Guizot and ins mother fled to Gene¬ 
va. Here the subject of our memoir remained 
for eleven years as a student at the Gymnasium t, 
and Academy. In 1805 he repaired to Paris, and p 
being In straitened circumstances he became j 
private i utor In a Swiss family. In 18)3 he mar— n 
ried a literary lady of Royalist tendencies. She c 
was fourteen years older than himself, but he t 
always showed towards her the greatest , 
affection. 
Gitizot'k writings speedily won him a repiita- j 
lion, and he obtained from the Imperial Gov- v 
eminent a Professorship of Modern History at s 
La Sorbonnc. Upon the Bourbon Restoration a 
—an event for which lie had earnestly longed— g 
he was appointed to a subordinate official post. , 
During the Hundred Days he retired with his { 
royal master and otheffadherents to Ghent, but ^ 
after Waterloo be resumed bis position as 
Secretary-General at the Ministry of Public { 
Instruction. The Government, however, soon f 
showed itself too bigoted for ins Protestant j 
principles, lie retired when the “ White Terror ” 
was Inaugurated, and from 1830 to 1830 he de¬ 
voted himself to literature. After the July 
Revolution ho was elected as a Deputy for 
Llsicux, in the Department of Calvados, and 
soon after accepted the post of Minister of 
Public Instruction. At first ho and M. Thiers 
were colleagues in office, but gradually an es¬ 
trangement of views took place between them, 
and they became opponents. 
In 1830 M. GdzOT was appointed Ambassador 
to London, and some eighteen months later he 
attained the height of his ambition, being 
called upon to form a Cabinet. During the 
seven years which succeeded, the destinies of 
France and also the dynasty of her rulei were 
in Guizot's hands. He was never very popular 
among Ills countrymen, he was accused of 
truckling to foreign Powers, he was disliked by 
the Emperor Nicholas, then the most powerful 
of European sovereigns, while the affair of tho 
Spanish marriages, by which Louis Philippe 
sought to secure for the Due de Montpensier 
the reversion to the Spanish throne, excited 
universal indignation, and inuirectly contrib¬ 
uted to the fall of the Orleanlst Monarchy. 
After the revolution of 1848 M. GuiZOT sought 
refuge ln England, hut returned after the coup 
d'etat ot 1851, and appealed for election to bis 
old constituency. They, how ever, rejected him 
so decisively that he retired to the comparative 
leisure of private life at his country seat of Val 
Richer, near Lisieux. He only emerged from 
his seclusion in the discharge of his functions 
either as a member of the Academy or as a 
leader in the conferences of the Protestant 
Church. It was here that M. Thiers, while 
President of the Republic, ln 1872, visited his 
old rival and colleague. 
In 1827 M. Guizot’s first wife died, and in 
1 obedience to ber dying request he married her 
niece, who only lived eight years after. His 
r daughter, Madame de Witt, is well known for 
her literary achievements, and his son Guil- 
’ t.attmw followed a literary career with success. 
\ M. Guizot’s political shortcomings were very 
serious, and there was a stiffness and dogmatism 
’ about his temperament which caused the 
} genera) public to withhold their sympathy 
: from him, but he was a man of eminent intel- 
* Iectual gifts, and ot sincere piety. He was 
exceptionally well versed in our language and 
literature, and was highly esteemed both 
socially and intellectually by many eminent 
Englishmen. His long widowhood was soothed 
s by the companionship of his daughter, and 
g many will remember the grace with which she 
>t did the honors of her father’s house in Bromp- 
n ton. 
Sabbath Reading. 
CHANGED. 
BY DE FORREST P. GUMMERSON. 
They say I am so changed from what 
I was in days ot loDg ago :— 
That on my brow pale sorrow sits 
As if my heart were filled with woe. 
I know not if the charge be true— 
I cannot see as others see; 
And. though I suffer day by day. 
The world has not grown dark to me. 
For through the dsys I suffer most-, 
A Father’s love doth comfort me. 
And though my bark Is tem ost tossed. 
X know ’twin yet find smoother sea. 
And there at. anchor, free from pain, 
Secure tn harbor and at rest; 
What need I care how changed I am. 
So long a* Pe.ace reigns in my breast. 
- — ——♦ ♦♦-- 
DDUBT HIM NOT. 
Fearest sometimes that thy Father 
Hath forgot ? 
When the clouds around thee gather. 
Doubt Him not. 
Always hath the daylight broken— 
Always hath He comfort spoken— 
Better hath He been for years _ 
Than thy fears. 
---*-*-*-— 
THE LIFE TO COME. 
What docs a man take with him when from 
tho extreme verge of life he launches Into wh t 
lies beyond? It looks as if he took nothing. 
Death seams to pass a sponge over all that has 
gone before. Be it tho end. or be it a new be¬ 
ginning. it scorns a total breaking off from nil 
that, llfo has hitherto consisted in. That is what 
makes it terrible. 
But, if we look at it truly, his past llfo is just 
tho one thing that a man does take with him 
when bo dies. Ho takes himself. And that 
self is the product of all his past experiences 
and actions. As an oak bears in Itself the re¬ 
sults of every shower that through long years 
has freshened It. of every 1 gale that- has tough¬ 
ened it or stripped its boughs, of the sunshine 
that has fed it, and the drouth that has parched 
it, so a man, when he stands at the end of life, 
Is what he has been made by all his joys, and 
Bufferings, and actions. That Is what he takes 
into the other world his own character. 
The life to come and the llfo that now is are 
parts of one another. They are related. The 
man is not the same that tl,e boy was, but 
what the boy was entered into the man as a 
part of him. The strength r gain hy my vic¬ 
tories Uiis year, and the weakness Into which I 
come by defeat, will be a part Of me next year, 
bo, there is net an act, not a word or thought 
but casts its Influence forward into the to-mor¬ 
row 1 that lies beyond death. 
.—--- 
FORGIVENESS. 
The mantle of charity ought to be thrown 
around the faults of our fellow beings. “Thy 
sins be forgiven thee," should be the answer 
for us to give io those who have sinned against 
us, and wished to be taken back to our bosoms 
and be as they once were, pure and sinless. 
Forgive and forget; memory will not let us 
forget, but it is In the power of exalted human 
benevolence. Saddening scenes will often 
press themselves upon our attention, even 
when we do the best to prevent them. So 
scenes of inharinony between ourselves and our 
human relations will arise in the soul, notwith¬ 
standing the presence arid Influence of that 
principle of Christian charity which should in¬ 
spire every human soul with its divine efful¬ 
gence. Yet memory, however, faithful to her 
Lru6t, will not prevent us from being lenient 
towards the faults and follies of others, and 
even to forgive their departure from a true 
life. 
--- 
WISE ADMONITIONS. 
Shun evil speaking. Deal tenderly with the 
absent; say nothing to iDfliot a wound on their 
reputation. They may be wrong and wioked, 
i yet your knowledge of it does not oblige you to 
’ disclose their oboracter except to save others 
■ from injury. Then do it lu a way that bespeaks 
. a spirit of kindness for the absent offender. Be 
r not hasty to credit evil reports. They are often 
i the result of misunderstanding, or o: evil de- 
3 sign, or they proceed from an exaggerated or 
7 partial disclosure of facts. Walt and learn the 
- whole history before you decide; then believe 
s Just what evidence compels you to and no 
1 more. But even then, take heed not to indulge 
i the least uukindness, else you dissipate all the 
t spirit of prayer for (hero, and unnerve yourself 
1 for doing them good.— Wallace. 
Edmond About is said to be so quick and 
restless in his movements that one wonders 
where he gathered even the fat he carries. His 
face is said to be of a Russian type, and if he is 
not exactly handsome himself, he has five 
handsome children. 
The world may chance from old to new. 
From new to old again ; 
Y<*t hope and heaven, forever true, 
Within man’s heart remain. 
The dreams that bless the weary soul, 
The struggles of the strong, 
Are steps toward some happy goal, 
Tho story of Hope’s song. 
-- 
Run not alter blessings; but walk in the com¬ 
mandments of God and blessings shall run al¬ 
ter you, and shall overtake you. 
