faces’ fortfolta. 
THE SINGERS PRIZE. 
The tall house lowers grimly, 
Deformed by smoke and rain; 
And the bleared sunshine dimly 
Blinks on the window-pane. 
Though sore and numb her fingers, 
And slowly fades the light. 
The girl nor rests nor lingers, 
But sows from morn till night. 
Her bright young fare is sunken. 
And fails her gentle breath; 
Her fair young form is shrunken, 
To fit the robes of death. 
And I think of the woodland shadows 
That she lias never seen; 
Of the wonder ot song i n the meadows, 
When all the world is green. 
But now the rjose bps quiver, 
The nimble hands arc slow— 
The voice she dreams of ever 
Rings in the room bolow. 
The mad young poet Is singing, 
With only a rrost to eat; 
But a fountain of light is springing 
Up from the narrow street. 
And whether lie sings in sorrow. 
Or whether he stags in glee. 
He hopes that the world to-morrow 
Will list to his melody. 
And I think though his heart were burning 
With words no man o’er said, 
The world would be turning and turning 
If to-morrow he were dead. 
Only, both late and early, 
The girl, as maidens will, 
Dreams when the voice comes clearly 
Up to her window-sill, 
A brave face has she found him, 
A manner frunic and gay, 
And long ago lias crowned him 
With myrtle wreath or bay. 
A good sword clanging loudly, 
A plume on waving hair," 
A cloak that drapes him proudly, 
Such as the players wear. 
So whether in glee or sadness 
He sings, he has won the prize, 
When he brings the light of gladness 
To a dying maiden’s eyes. 
-♦ * » 
GREAT MEN’S WIVES. 
It was a saying of Rousseau’s that ‘‘a man Is 
only what a wotnau makes him,” amt this senti¬ 
ment is slightly varied In our English proverb, 
which says that “ If a man would tlirlv, he must 
ask Ills wit els leave.” The records of history 
contain numberless examples of women who have 
done for t heir husbands what Aaron and Hur did 
for Moses; they have held up their hands and 
supported them at the greatest crises of their 
lives, and so turned what would have been u 
failure, Into triumph and success. Ami they 
contain examples, too, of those who have accom¬ 
plished a far more dliticult task—that of sustain¬ 
ing and cheering when endeavor and hope were 
dead. It Is only necessary to mention tho names 
or Gertruda von der Wert and Lady Rachel 
Russell, In proof of this, it may not bo uninter¬ 
esting to give a few instances of womeu in our 
own generation who have been to their husbands 
helpers and fellow workers, as well as sympathiz¬ 
ing companions, and who have thus taken a posi¬ 
tion which Is unanimously acknowledged to be a 
most proud and honorable one—that or a help¬ 
mate to man. Among these, the name that Is 
first thought Of, probably because lthas so recent¬ 
ly been brought before public notice, is that of 
Lady Augusta Stanley, the wife of the Dean of 
Westminster. Herself, the daughter of a peer, 
and one of the Queen’s personal friends, she 
possessed a largeness of heart and a strength of 
Intellect which won respect and kindly feeling 
from all who came In contact with her. She 
sympathized most heartily with tier husband 
both In thought and work, while the poor of 
Westminster found In her tenderness and kind¬ 
ness a frequent alleviation of their miseries. 
Every one will remember the testimony of 
John Stuart Mill to the worth or ills wife,' which 
1s to be found in the dedication to her memory 
prl tiled at the commencement of one ot h is essays: 
“ To the beloved and deplored memory of her who 
was the Inspire)*, and, lu part, the author ot all 
that Is best In my writings—the friend and wife 
whose exalted sense of truth and right was my 
strongest incitement, and whose approbation was 
my chief reward - I dedicate this volume.” Ills 
said that such was Mr. Mill's sorrow at the death 
of his wife, l hat he continued to reside at Avignon, 
tho place where she was burled, so that he might 
continue to visit her tomb, and he never ceased to 
lament her loss. 
The w If© of -Sir William Hamilton, Professor of 
Logic In the University of Edinburg, was a true 
helper to her husband; Indeed, It is more than 
probable that without her, many of his best works 
would never have been written. When he was 
elected to the professorship, some of his opponents 
declared publtely that, lie would never be able to 
fultlll the duties of his position, as he was nothing 
hut a dreamer, ife and his wife heard of this, 
and determined to prove that it was not true. 
They therefore arranged to work together. Sir 
William wrote out, roughly each day, the lecture 
that was to be given next morning; and as he 
wrote Ills wife copied It ou t,; and again and again 
they sat Up writing till far Into the nlghL. When 
Sir William was struck down with paralysis, tho 
result of overwork, Lady Hamilton do voted herself 
entirely to him—wroto for hltn, read tor him, and 
saved him in every way. 
John Flaxman, tho sculptor, had made con¬ 
siderable progress In Ills work when he married 
Anne Denman, a noble-spirited, Intelligent wo¬ 
man, full ot love for art, and with au Intense ad¬ 
miration for him as an artist. It happened that 
soon after the event he met, sir Joshua Reynolds, 
In whoso opinion no man could hope to become 
an artist who did not devote himself entirely to 
art, and who had studied patiently and reverently 
the works of the great masters In Italy Itself. 
“ Well, Elaxman,” said Sir Joshua, ‘‘ l hear 
you arc married. You are ruined for an artist.” 
Elaxman went straight to his wife and said to 
her;— 
“ Anne, I am ruined for an artist.” 
“ Who has ruiued you, John 7” 
“It happened In church,” he replied, “and 
Anne Denman has done it.” 
He then told her what Sir Joshua had said, ancl 
added:—“I should like to have been a great 
artist.” 
“ And so you shall, and go to Rome, too, if that 
will make you one.” 
“ How?” 
“ Work and economize,” she replied. “ I will 
never have it said that Anne Denman has ruined 
John Flax man for an art ist.” 
And ho the brave couple did work and econo¬ 
mize. They worked patiently and hopefully for 
five years, never asked help from any one, and at 
last went together to Rome, where Elaxman 
studied and worked to such purpose that he 
achieved both fame and competency. His success 
was not shared to the full, however, by his faith¬ 
ful wife, for she died many years before him. 
The wife of the late Dr. Buckland considerably 
assisted her husband In Ills labors. Rhe used to 
write from his dictation for hours at a llmu. She 
herself furnished many of the drawings with 
which hla works are illustrated, and she skillfully 
and dexterously mended many of the fossils which 
but tor her would have been useless. 
Thomas Carlyle, one of the greatest intellectual 
lights of this century, haa recorded his testimony 
to tho worth of Uls wife on her tombstone: “In 
her bright existence she had more sorrows than 
are common, but also a soft, amiability, a capacity 
for discernment, and a loyalty of heart, which are 
rare. For forty yr.ars she was the true and loving 
helpmate of her husband, and by act and word 
unvvcarledly forwarded him, as no one else could, 
In all of worthy that lie did or attempted." 
The wife or Faraday was a true helper to her 
husband. After twenty-eight yoars or married 
life, he speaks In his diary of Ills marriage as an 
event, which, more than any other, had contrib¬ 
uted to Ills earthly happiness and healthy state 
of mind, and says; “The union has in no wise 
changed, except only In the depth and strength 
of Its Character.” 
Thomas Hood, the wit and poet, speaks thus of 
Ills wife: “I never was anything, dearest, Mil I 
knew you, and 1 have been a better, happier, and 
more prosperous man ever since. Whatever may 
befall me, the wife of my bosom will have tho ac¬ 
knowledgement of her tenderness, worth, and 
excellence from my pen.” 
Speaking or Hood makes us think of two notable 
instances of great writers of our time who have 
not been happy In their wives—namely, Charles 
Dickens and Bulwer Ly tton. 111# neither a ploas- 
unt nor a thankful task to expose the spots which 
spoil the beauty of great works of art, nor to call 
attention to the littleness which detract rrom the 
admiration vve feel for great men; nevertheless, 
there seems ample reason for believing that In 
both instances, whatever fault there was dtd not 
He wholly with the wives. Thackeray, who hus 
been frequently spoken of as a similar Instance, 
was most loving and beloved by his homo circle, 
but sustained a deep nlllletlon in his wlfe’B losing 
her reason after the birth of one of her children. 
Tho constancy with which so many woman 
have cherished the memory ot their husbands, 
when death has removed them from their sides, 
cannot hut- call forth both respect and admiration. 
The Queen ot England Is a noble example of this. 
The depth of tier sorrow for the loss or the good 
Prince Albert, and the faithfulness with which 
she cherishes and honors his memory, aud teaches 
her children to do so, are known to all. 
Lady Franklin, ton, holds a foremost place 
among the falthrul and true. When her husband. 
Sir John Franklin, did not return at the expected 
time from bis last expedition to tha North Seas, 
apprehension began to be seriously entertained 
respecting his fate and that of hla brave compan¬ 
ions. Lady Franklin offered rewards of £2,ooo and 
£3,000 to any person discovering or affording re¬ 
lief to the missing party, or making any extraor¬ 
dinary effort with this object. She appealed to 
the American people to assist in the search, and 
she herself determined upon, organized, and to a 
great extent defrayed the expense of two expedi¬ 
tions to seek ror traces of the missing party. For 
years she refused to give up hope, and It was only 
when Captain McCllntock returned with what 
were considered full proofs of his death that she 
rested In her endeavors to prosecute the search. 
To quote the words of Sir Roderick Murchison: 
“Nothing daunted by railure after failure, she 
persevered through years or hope deferred, with a 
singleness of purpose and a sincere devotion 
which were truly unparalleled.” The little ship 
Pandora, which lately acted us the medium of 
I communication between England the present 
Arctic explorers, was fitted out In a great part at 
her expense before her death. 
- +■*■+ - 
Mean souls, like mean pictures, are often found 
in good-looking frames. 
UfaMnti for tljc gffititg, 
THE FOX AND THE HARE. 
The Fo.y lay under the birch-tree's root 
TSi’ntdothe heather; 
And the Hare bounded with lightsome foot 
Over the heather: 
“ To-day Is .lust a day to my mind— 
All suuuy before and sunny behind 
Over tho heather!" 
And tho Fox laughed under tho birch-trce’s root 
Beside the heather; 
Aud the Hare frolicked with heedless foot 
Over the heather: 
“ I am so glad about everything !”— 
“ So that ig the way you dance and spring 
Over the heather !” 
And tho Fox lay in wait by the birch-trce’s root 
Beside the heather; 
And the llare goon tumbled close to his foot 
Over the heather: 
“ Why, bless mu! is that you, my dear ? 
However did yon come dancing here 
Over the heather?” 
---- 
A NIGHT OF TERROR. 
Paul Lotus Courier thus writes to a cousin, of 
a series of terrors experienced by him: 
“ 1 was one day traveling in Calabria—a country 
of people who, I believe, have no great liking to 
anybody, and are particularly ill-disposed toward 
the French. To tell you why would too a long 
affair. It la enough that they hat© us to death, 
and that the unhappy being who should chance 
to fall Into their hands would not pass Ids time In 
the most agreeable manner. 1 had tor my com¬ 
panion a wort hy young fallow. 1 do not say this 
to Interest you, but because It Is tho truth. In 
these mountains t he roads are precipices, and our 
horses advancct^with. the greatest difficulty. My 
comrade going first, a track which appeared to 
him more practicable and shorter than tlio regu¬ 
lar path, led us astray. It was my fault. Ought 
I to have trusted to a head of twenty years ? Wo 
sought our way out of tho wood while It was yet 
light; but tho more we looked for the path the 
further we were off It. 
“ It, was a very black night, whpn we came close 
upon a very bluck house. We went in, and not 
without suspicion. Hut what was to be done? 
There we round a whole family of charcoal-burn¬ 
ers at table. At the first, word, they Invited us to 
Jolu them. My young man did not stop for much 
ceremony. In a minute or two wo were eating 
and drinking In right earnest—he, at least,; for 
my part, I could not help glancing about tho 
place and the people. Our hosts, Indeed, looked 
like charcoal-burners: but the house, you would 
have taken it for an arsenal. There was nothing 
to be seen but muskets, pistols, sabers, knives, 
cutlasses. Everything displeased me, and I saw 
that 1 was In no Tavor myseir. My comrade, on 
the contrary, was soon one of the family. Ho 
laughed, he chatted with them, and with an Im¬ 
pudence which I ought to have prevented, he at 
once said where we came from, where we were 
going, and that we were Frenchmen. Think of our 
situation ! Here we were among our mortal ene¬ 
mies, alone, benighted, and far from human aid. 
That nothing might bo omitted that could tend to 
our destruction, he must, forsooth, play tho rich 
man, promising these folks to pay them well for 
their hospitality; and then lie must prate about 
Ids portmanteau, earnestly beseeching them to 
take care of It,, and pul, It. at the head of hla bed, 
for he wanted no other pillow. Ah! youth, 
youth, how art thou to be pitied! Cousin, they 
might have thought we carried tho diamonds of 
the crown; and yet the treasure In his portman¬ 
teau. which gave him so much anxiety, consisted 
only of some private letters. 
“ Supper ended, they left us. our hosts slept on 
the story below where we had been eating. In a 
sort of platform raised seven or eight feet, where 
we were to mount by a ladder, was the bed that, 
awaited ns—a nest Into which we had to Intro¬ 
duce ourselves by jumping over barrols Illlod with 
provisions tor all the year. My comrade seized 
upon the bed above and was soon fast asleep, with 
Ills head upon the precious portmanteau. I was 
determined to keep awake, so I made a good tiro 
and sat myself down. The night was almost 
passed over tranquilly enough, and I was begin¬ 
ning to be comfortable, when just at the lime It 
appeared to me that day was about to break, I 
heard our host and his wife talking and disputing 
below me ; and, putting my ear Into the chimney, 
which communicated with the lower room, I per¬ 
fect,ly distinguished these exact words ol the hus¬ 
band: 1 Well, well, let US sec —must in- kill, thrm 
both?’ To which the wife replied, ‘Yes!’and 
1 heard no more. 
“ now shall I tell you the rest ? I could scarce¬ 
ly breathe. My whole body was as cold as mar¬ 
ble. Had you seen me, you could not have told 
whether l was dead or alive. Even now, the 
thought of my condition Is enough. We two were 
almost without arms; against us were twelve or 
fifteen persons who had plenty of weapons; and 
then my comrade was overwhelmed with sleep. 
To call him up. to make a noise, was more than I 
dared; to escape alone was an impossibility. The 
I wludow was uoL very high; but under It. were 
I two great dogs, howling like wolves. Imagine, lr 
i you can, the distress l was In. At the cud ot a 
quarter of an hour, which seemed to be an age, I 
J heard some one on the staircase, and through the 
chirdc of lhe door I saw the old man, with a lamp 
in one hand and one of his great knives In the 
other. 
“ The crisis was now come. Ho mounted; his 
I wife followed him; I was behind the door. He 
opened it; but before ho entered he put down the 
lamp, which his wife took up, and coining in, 
with his feet naked, she, being behind him, said, 
In a smothered voice, hiding the light partially 
with her fingers: * Gently, go gently.’ Ou reach¬ 
ing the ladder, ho mounted, with his knife be¬ 
tween tils teeth, and going to the head of t he bed 
where that poor young man lay, with Ills throat 
uncovered, with one hand he took the knife, and 
with t he other—ali! my cousin—ho seized -a 1mm 
which hung from tho roof, cut, a slice, and retired 
as he had come In. 
“ When the day appeared, all the family, with 
a great noise, came to rouse us, as we find desired. 
They brought us plenty to cat; they served us up, 
I assure you, a capital breakfast. Two chickens 
formed a part of It. the hostess saying: 1 You 
must eat one and carry away the other.’ When I 
saw them, I at once comprehended the meaning 
of those terrible words: ‘Must wo kill them 
both ? ’ ” 
---- 
A FABLE. 
A lion, who wanted his meals brought to tils 
room without being charged as extras, Invited 
the beasts to call upon him. Tho fox came In his 
turn. " Como In,” called out the monarch of the 
plains to tho fox, who remained at a rcspectrul 
distance. “ T thank you,” humbly replied the 
fox, “but while 1 observe many footsteps loading 
toward your den, none return from It.” “ Pshaw \\ 
answered t he lion, “ that Is easily explained. My 
good friends were anxious to furnish me with 
edifying literature, and when they went, away 
they left- their tracts." “ Alas! 1 have none with 
me, but will speedily make tracks,” answered 
Master Reynard, and ho speedily vanished In tho 
distance. 
Moral: Most accidents can be avoided by pres¬ 
ence of utlnd and absence of body. 
GOOD ADVICE FOR THE YOUNG. 
Avoin all boastings and exaggerations, back¬ 
biting, abuse, and evil slang; slang phrases and 
oaths In conversation; depreciate no man’s quali¬ 
ties, and accept the hospitalities of the humblest 
kind in a hearty and appreciative manner; avoid 
giving offense, a nd If you offend, have t he manli¬ 
ness to apollglze; inf uso as much elegance as pos¬ 
sible into your thoughts, as well as into your 
actions; and, us you avoid vulgarities, you will 
Increase the enjoyment of lire and grow in tho 
respect of others. 
®jjf fugltr. 
DECAPITATIONS. 
1. Decapitate ono musical Instrument, and 
leave another. 
2. To thrash, and leave a hit of timber. 
;i. To punish, and leave part, of t.he human body. 
4. A burst of light, aud leave part of a whip. 
6. An Insect, and leave a meadow, 
c. A spasm, and leave a pronoun. 
7. The visage, and leave a number. 
8. Part of the race, and leave a pronoun. 
*.», A particle of fire, and leave a lawn. 
10. A small spot, and leave a grain measure. 
11. To boast, and leave a torn bit of cloth. 
12. A piece of harness, and leave a cape of North 
America. 
is. A Journey, and leave a pronoun. 
W. A game, and leave a measure. 
15. Part of a door, and leave sick. 
15. To arri ve at, and leave every one. 
17. A file, and leave a reptile. 
18. To rave, and leave an insect. 
19. Part of the leg, and leave a skein. 
f ar Answer In two weeks. Little One. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I a m composed ot 22 letters: 
My 7, 13 a personal pronoun. 
My 16.15, 20 . 21 what some people are. 
My 18, 22, 5 what hens do. 
My 21, ll, 9, IT a figure. 
My 13, lo, 3, 15 a girl’s name. 
My 7, l, 6 an article of dross. 
My 4 myself. 
My 2,20, 19 what we all do sometimes. 
My 12 stands for a girl’s name. 
My 14, 0, 8, l, 3,11, 6,15 a rheumatic affection. 
My whole Is an old saying, 
rzr Answer in two weeks. A. r. n. 
- - - 
CENTRAL PUZZLE. 
1. Implikd consent. 2. A sort of fichu. 3. With¬ 
out feeling. 4. An artifice. 5. A young pigeon. 
G. One who draws liquors. Centrals form a liquor, 
far Answer In two weeks. Md. 
-»♦«- 
HOUR-GLASS PUZZLE. 
l. To tread upon. 2 . Commerce. 3. Advanced 
life. 4. A vowel. 5. A female name. 6. A lan¬ 
guage. 7. Completely. Centrals form a color. 
hat Answer In two weeks. Dr. 
■-♦ • » 
PUZZLER ANSWERS.—April 14. 
Art Enigma. — " But then her face. 
So lovely, yet ,«> arch, so full of mirth, 
The overflowm:,' of au innocent heart— 
It haunts me atilt, thou vh many u year has fled. 
Like some wild melody. 1 
Double Acrostic. — Primal?, Sagittarius; finals, 
Capricorn ub. 
