week, to learn from a lady—I forget her name— 
and I do wish- ” 
“Why, May, I am absolutely astonished to 
think that thee would think of goto’ to such a 
place, after we’ve brought thee up accordin’ to 
the Discipline. Don't thee ever mention It again. 
I reckon the next thing will be a hat with a red 
ribbon or a green veil on It, or some other terrible 
tblug.” 
Our destined musician wanted to quote from 
the Bible and Bay a good many things not in the 
Bible, but she refrained. Her plan was dreadfully 
shattered, but for three or four years she learned 
all she could by attending the Methodist church 
meetings whenever occasion offered. Then, as 
she was approaching the fairy land of sweet six¬ 
teen. her aunt’s nephew came from the city to 
spend the summer. He was reflued and Intelli¬ 
gent, and his uncle’s family loved him as well as 
they could love any one who was not a disciple of 
FOX. He happened to hear some of May’s frantic 
attempts at- music, and playfully asked her where 
she bad learned to sing, as he did not think this a 
very musical atmosphere. She, ehlld-llke, told 
him all her troubles. With a quiet smile, be said: 
“ Well, Mav, you have a very good voice, and 1 
will leach you If you like, as I have a note-book 
with me.” 
she came very near repeating her first time of 
“Glory Hallelujah;" but with a mighty elTort, 
she kept her vocal powers In check, and begged 
hint to let no one see the book, lie was a lover of 
nature, and In his long wallas In the woods and 
fields, he would coax his aunt to let Mav go with 
him; and with the company of June birds and 
breezes, and lu the shade of July forests, tie 
taught her the principles of the art of music. By 
the time the summer days were over, she could 
master every hard piece in the hook. Ho gave it. 
to her as a present when he returned to his city 
home, anil she Gainfully laid It. away In her bureau 
drawer. But “ Love is bund,”and she was In love 
with music, and spent too many momenta up 
stairs In her little room. Her auntbegau to think 
hat something there was very attractive, and 
ne day when May was absent, searched every 
ook and corner for It. 
When May returned In the evening, she noticed 
an unusual stale or things. .Jons, Fkko find Wil- 
j.i k were all at. home. They had all formed the 
able of spend tho evening and too often, a greater 
part of the night, at the village. As she opened 
the door, she relt that tlia matter under discus¬ 
sion was her song-book. She passed over the 
threshold with hesitation and misgiving, for she 
feared her musical days were almost ended. After 
listening to their rebukes and reproaches, she told 
them that she could not live and be happy with¬ 
out, music, and wished they would cornu to a sen¬ 
sible conclusion on tho subject. She brought the 
Bible and all lirr skill to prove tier point, and said: 
“ I will sing ouc 01 my best songs for you, If you 
will allow mo.’’ 
•* 1 don’t want r,o hear any of thy silly songs. 
Thee has spent, too much time with that nonsense 
already,” her uncle replied, indignantly throwing 
the book on the table, breaking Its poor back. 
May was not, to be thus vanquished, and tossing 
her black curls In defiance, she rose, stalely as any 
queen, to get her Injured treasure; then selecting 
one of the longest, pret tiest solos, she began sing¬ 
ing. Her voice had been so long silent, that it 
rose triumphantly to the highest notes and filled 
t he room with melody. The boys looked surprised 
and fascinated —undo and aunt stern and re¬ 
proachful. Sho was determined to keep the boys 
from tho corner one evening, and thought, if tills 
Wfis to be her only musical entertainment. in ber 
uncle's homo, that it should accomplish thn t much 
good If nothing more. .So she sang one song and 
then another, until half-past ten was pointed out 
by tbe old clock in the corner—boys as interested 
as ever—uncle and aunt showing less dissatisfac¬ 
tion. She selected “My Childhood’s Homo,” a 
piece full of tender memories, She watched the 
two Old persons during her singing. Her uncle 
was rubbing his rough hand across his eyes and 
licr aunt's clicking knit tl ng-needles were frequent¬ 
ly Interrupted by a trembling baud lifting her 
blue-checked apron to her face. Eleven waselfiin- 
pd by the household clock, and May closed her 
book and retired from tho room without a word. 
A glance In tno mirror revealed flushed cheeks 
and brllllaut eyes. She fell asleep and dreamed 
of sweeping t he Strings of an Aiollan harp. 
The next evening the boys said, “ May, If you'll 
Sing, we’ll not go to town to-night.” 
She sang for thorn, for she lVlt that home should 
be made more pleasant, and that their characters 
were trembling In the balance between good and 
evil. Tbe same request was repeated evening 
after evening, and undo and aunt, always con- 
trtvod to get cosily seated In the chimney corner 
before the vesper songs began. 
tv lien she was eighteen, her uncle placed lu her 
hands a $:,ou legacy, telling her that it was irom 
her lather, who had long been sleeping lu the vil¬ 
lage churchyard, and that he would trust her to 
use It Justus she wished. The money was Invested 
lu a richly-toned organ, pictures, books and mag¬ 
azines. Sho thought It right for her to spend it to 
make home attractive for her uncle’s wayward 
boys. Although she hud assured them that she 
could be a musician and have no desire to partici¬ 
pate to dancing, she actually danced with delight 
when the new organ was brought home. A teach¬ 
er was engaged, and to the course of a few months 
her brown hands could sweep cxullingly over the 
keys. And when May s well-trained voice gives 
out the sublime straJus of “old coronation,” or 
“Jubilee,'’ the old folks smile and say: 
“ Well May lias despoiled one of our traditional 
notions.” 
She never expects to become a prlma donna, but 
la an excellent home singer. The boys call her 
“Merry May, the Musician," and say a great 
many things about ber saving them from ruin and 
drunkards’ graves, which increases her desire to 
become perfect Hi the art she has chosen. 
-- 
KEY. CHARLES KINGSLEY. 
Charles Kingsley, who died In 18*0, rector of 
Ereraiey and Canon of Westminster, was bom in 
1819 of a family of Kingsleys who trace their 
pedigree so far back as 1100. ills rather, who was 
left an orphan at an early age, had Inherited a 
considerable fortune, and was educated in a man¬ 
ner supposed to be bclUtlngone whose position to 
life would bo that of an English gentleman. He 
was “ a man of cultivation and refinement, a lin¬ 
guist, an artist* a keen sportsman, and a natural 
historian.” Arriving at man’s estate, he found 
that a greater portion of his Inheritance had been 
wrongly appropriated by those holding It In trust, 
and he seems not only to have been without, the 
business capacity necessary to retrieve the loas, 
but with such habits and Inclinations as led him 
to spend t he remainder, and we find him at thirty 
in such a financial position as rendered It neces¬ 
sary to do something for his support. The Church 
offering the best opportunities, was chosen, and 
putting aside many of his acquired habits, with 
his hunters and his hounds, he read for holy 
orders at Cambridge. 
Kingsley’s mother—who was born in the West, 
indies, of English parents—was a woman ot re¬ 
markable mental traits. She was enthusiastic, 
practical and Imaginative m her youth, but to 
riper years became eminently practical. An In¬ 
tense and intelligent love of nature found ample 
food among the hills of Devonshire where, at 
Holm, Mr. Kingsley was located when cuahles 
was born. 
The doctrine of the transmission of mental qual¬ 
ities from parents to children, seldom finds better 
exemplification than here. From his father’s side 
he Inherited tho love of art, his sporting tastes, 
his fighting blood -the men of his ratnlly having 
been soldiers for generations—and from the moth¬ 
er’s side catne, not only his love or travel, science 
and literature and the romance of his nature, but 
his keen sense of humor and a toroe and original¬ 
ity which characterized the women of her family 
oi a still older generation. 
In 1838 Mr. Kingsley moved to Chelsea and 
CHAJthBB entered King's College, London, as a day 
student to the department of General Literature, 
having left with great sorrow the hills and fields, 
the rooks and rivers of Devonshire, where were 
unlimited resources for the pursuit Of that knowl¬ 
edge of nature so dear to him. 
After two years of hard work at. King's College, 
he went to Magdalen College, Cambridge, where 
In the first examination he stood highest In his 
class, thus gaining a scholarship. The summer 
of the next, year he spent to Oxfordshire w here, 
on the 8th of July, lm met Fanny Ukenfkll, his 
future wife. This day, he used to say, was his 
real wedding day. “From this time, for four 
years and a half, (he friends met but seldom and 
corresponded only at rare Intervals; but a now 
life had dawned for both, which neither absence 
nor sorrow, difference of religious opinions, oppo¬ 
sition of friends or adverse circumstances could 
extinguish." 
At. this time Kingsley was full of religlotis 
doubts, as who Is not at some time to life 7 Among 
the qualities inherited from his parents, venera¬ 
tion and marvelousness were not the most promi¬ 
nent, and lie round It difficult to harmonize the 
religious teachings of the times wit h the truths 
he learned from nature’s volumes spread open all 
about him. Ills mental conflict was so severe as 
to almost unbalance him, and on hls return to 
Cambridge he became rceklcss, paid little atten¬ 
tion to Ida studies, and gave himself up to the ex¬ 
citements of boatlug, fishing, hunting, driving, 
&c., and several times came near abandoning 
study, having almost determined to give himself 
up to the wild life ot a hunter to the rar West ot 
America. 
Hls mind was full of theological difficulties. 
The Athaunslau creed, of which he afterward was 
so strong a supporter, seemed to him then lull of 
“ bigotry, cruelty and quibbling.” But through 
it all, there was nothing flippant or Utter about 
him, no vein of noisy and shallow blasphemy In 
hls doubts, but, hls life was full or solemnity and 
sadness. In 1S40 ho writes, “ I have found a cen¬ 
tralizing point connecting my theoret ical notions 
of morality with my affections and my emotions, 
and begin to find there Is an object to be attained 
to morality beyond public esteem and seir-lnter- 
e&t—namely, the love and the esteem of the good, 
and consequently of God himself.” From this 
time be seems to have been determined to oomppl 
himself to accept the theological teachings of the 
Church of England, endeavoring not to destroy 
hls natural excitability, but to bring It under his 
control and subjection, it. is to this endeavor, to 
which ho was eminently successful, that many of 
hls characteristic qualities arc owing, and which 
to alter lire kept the man apart from and above 
tbe minister. 
Hls struggle was long and severe: but in 18*1, 
to writing to Miss Gkknfell. he speaks of hlmselr 
as “ Saved from the wild pride and darkling tem¬ 
pests of skepticism, and from the sensuality and 
dissipation into which my own rashness and van¬ 
ity had hurried me botorc I knew you; saved from 
a hunter’s life on the prairies, from becoming a 
savage and perhaps worse; saved from all this, 
and restored to my country and my God and able 
to believe.” During the years of hls doubt and 
despondency, he gave but little attention to hls 
studies; but when he had finally come to a deter¬ 
mination, he applied himself with such diligence 
as to accomplish surprising results, and left Cam¬ 
bridge in February, much exhausted to body and 
mind from having, by six months’desperate read¬ 
ing, done work which should have been spread 
over his three years of Unlverslty life.” lie came 
out with honors, and having previously decided 
on the chur to as bis profession instead of the law, 
for which Ids name had been entered at Lincolns 
Inn, he commenced at once to study for holy 
orders. 
In July, 1&*2. Mr. Kingsley was ordained, and 
entered at once upon Ills duties as curate of Ev- 
erslcy, where ho remained until the time of hls 
death, thirty-three years after. 
The Pariah ot Eversley was mostly common 
land divided Into three hamlets, each of which 
stood on Its own little green, the population ot 
ail being only about 800, poor, Ignorant, and fre¬ 
quenters of ale houses, of which there were seven 
In the parish. Church services had been almost 
entirely neglected, and it was with difficulty Mr, 
Kingsley could at first Interest a sufficient num¬ 
ber to make a decent congregation. But he seems 
to have been peculiarly fitted for the place, and 
at once set himself to the task of getting the good 
will of hls parishioners. l>Ld space permit, a copy 
would be given of one of Ins letters written a few 
mouths alter hls going among them, giving a hint 
at the methods employed to attain the desired 
end. He stooped to the level of the Intellect of 
hls people, that he might llrt them up. “ I try to 
catch men by their leading Ideas and to draw 
them off Insensibly to iny leading idea.” “ So 1 am 
trying to become (harmoniously and consistently) 
all things to all men, and I thank God for tho ver¬ 
satile mind ho has given mo.” In this by-place 
Mr. Kingsley was content to work and wail, and 
to this people he preached some of hls best ser¬ 
mons ; efforts which afterward, by aid of press 
and paper, made him known and honored the 
world over. 
In 1814 Mr. Kingsley was married, and at nearly 
the same time was advanced from the curacy to 
be rector of Eversley, t he living having fallen va¬ 
cant a Utile previous. During this year he be¬ 
came acquainted with Rev. F. I). Maurice, an ac¬ 
quaintance which had much to do with the direc¬ 
tion or Mr. Kinulev s powers in after life. 
lit Mr. Kingsley brought himself more 
prominently before the people by his work with 
both pen and tongue to support of tho Cc artists’ 
movement. Hls friends feared he would bring 
ruin upon himself, and advised moderation and a 
withdrawal of hls support of thlB movement of 
the people. But he wrote to hls wife, “ I will not 
bo a Bar. I will speak to season and out of sea¬ 
son. My path la clear and I will follow It.” Re 
believed in helping the poorer classes to help 
themselves, and to theJr uniting for the purpose 
of bettering their condition lu all ways—social, 
moral, and financial, combinations of interests 
and of capital, that workmen might be tlielr own 
employers, received hls hearty aid. But when 
Trades’ u uion?, began to wage war, not only on 
employers, but upon workmen not members ot 
tlm Hilton, his hostility was as great as fits sup¬ 
port had formerly been hearty. 
Mr. Kingsley’s income from hls living was 
small—not sufficient to support hls family even to 
theverj economical manner they had accustomed 
themselves to live, and he was obliged to earn 
with hls pen what he could to aid to keeping t he 
wolf from tho door. This labor added to hls 
others was too much for even Ills vigorous consti¬ 
tution. But hls writings had the ellectof bringing 
him more prominently before the public, and hls 
abilities began to be appreciated, although the 
positions he took on some prominent questions 
gained him, with some, the reputation of “unor¬ 
thodox.” In 1839 he preached before the Queen 
and Prince Consort at. Buckingham Palace, and 
shortly after w r as appointed one or Her Majesty’s 
chaplains to ordinary. In 1800 lie accepted the 
place of Professor of Modern History at Cam¬ 
bridge. 
The first real, practical antagonism that Mr, 
Kingsley received from fits “orthodox” friends 
was to 1883, when lie was nominated at Oxford for 
the degree of D. C. L. by the Prince of Wales, hls 
pupil and friend. Among the extreme High 
Church pa.ty weate many dissenting voices. Mr. 
Kingsley’s then new book, “Hypatia,” was pro¬ 
nounced heretical and immoral, and calculated to 
encourage young men to profligacy and false doc¬ 
trine. Rather titan accept tho degree unless It 
was cheerfully granted, hls name was withdrawn. 
In 1869 Mr. Kingsley was made Canon of Ches¬ 
ter, which position he filled for t hree years, giving 
much ot hls time to Its duties, to connection with 
other matters of much advantage to the town, 
not neglecting meantime the interests of the peo¬ 
ple in ills own parish, to whom he became more 
endeared every year. This position he resigned 
with regret, to 1S73, only to take the more honor¬ 
able place of Canon uf Westminster. 
Tn is:t Mr. Kingsky made a brief visit, to tbe 
United states. Hls health did not admit of hls 
meeting t he American people as would have been 
gratirylng to bom him and them. He gave some 
lectures and preached a few times, and returned 
to England to sultry August weather, at a time 
ot much sickness and mortality In hls parish. 
Hls weakened health was not equal to the per¬ 
formance of such labor as hls Inclination Induced 
him to undertake, and an attack or congestion of 
the liver resulted. 
Although at times he recovered sufficiently to 
preach, he was never again well, and died at 
Eversly, Jan. S3, IsTii. 
Mr. Kingsley was a firm supporter of the 
Church of England as lie understood It to be, 
while he differed with some ot hls brother clergy¬ 
men on some points tiiought by tliem to be mate¬ 
rial. He was a believer to science as well as to 
creeds, arid held that if people would let both 
alone they would shake hands at last. The doc¬ 
trine of the everlasting punishment seemed horri¬ 
ble to him. a firm believer in the truth of the 
Bible, he was not a verbal lnsplratlonlst. A sup¬ 
porter of temperance, be did not believe teetotal- 
ism was the best, thing for tlie working people of 
England. Holding the Christian Sabbath to the 
greatest reverence as a divine institution, he fa¬ 
vored fin nday amusements. He be) laved 1 n female 
suffrage, but thought It would be obtained sooner 
hy patient waiting aud steadily educating the 
people up to the idea, than by noisily demanding 
it at once. He was enthusiastic on the subject of 
medical education of woman, giving It a hearty 
God speed. He was a smoker, and thought It did 
him good. Thoroughly democratic to tiiought 
and feeling, he denied the truth of the statement 
that all men are born equal, and was utterly op¬ 
posed to universal suffrage. He rejected the Idea 
that, any nation can, for a longtime, sustain a gov¬ 
ernment in which all legislators are chosen by 
tbe people, and supported the English system, 
where the Honseof Lords Is not an elective but 
a hereditary body. 
It Is difficult for us to entirely harmonize all the 
various points to hls life and teachings, and we 
readily believe what is said of him to a letter writ¬ 
ten by one of hls intimate friends, that he was a 
man tilled with doubts. But however this may be, 
wc believe him to have been a good man, and that 
the amount of good he did to hls lifetime Is only a 
tittle in comparison to that which will be done by 
his teaching and example. 
In hls life, Ids Ideas and acts were such as to 
attract all classes and conditions of men. Rich 
and poor, high and low, at once loved and respect¬ 
ed him, and at his funeral all were represented. 
High dignitaries ot the English Church there met 
Roman Catholics and Dissenters. There was the 
representative of the Prlnoe of Wales and tho 
gypsies ot Eversley Common, soldiers and sailors, 
authors aud publishers, peers and members or 
tbe House of Commons, the most humble among 
hls parishioners and the most exalted of hls 
friends, governors of dlstimt Colonies and hunts¬ 
men In their hunting suits; while outside the 
churchyard were the horses and hounds in whose 
company the distinguished clergyman had spent 
many a happy and protltablo day. Every man 
fell hls death to be a personal loas, as well as a 
national altlletlon. 
A resting place In Westminster Abbey was offer¬ 
ed for him, but hls friends well knew bis wishes 
were to be laid In Eversly Churchyard, where, 
over hls grave, hls wife has erected a cross of 
marble, on which is engraved “ God is Love,”—a 
summary of hls faith and creed—and below the 
story of hls life In the words: 
Arnari nuts—Arnamun—Ainaijimus, 
lu tho Life mu! Memoir* of Mr. Kingsley, recently 
published by Scju.iNKii, Aumstuonu it Co..a,ew York, 
(u tine. peMvn volutin-., iliuntratcd, price #2.50}, his 
wife preeontA to thn pmJ»\ many of Ins private let¬ 
ters to bis family and intimate friends, as well as many 
others from friends to turn. AUo many letter* to her, 
written by his Intiuisle friunds since, bn* death. These 
letters she lisa accompanied by wttlcUn; narrative aud 
ext racts from his v,mines to render titc whole connect¬ 
ed and complete. Tims we have an irmafht into the 
real life of the man.riv. n in hisnwn Inuvii.-rr In one 
letter we liud him InrhUhcarted aud ,h*JTUl t lu another 
sad. aud overburdened with the weight of care. On 
one |/oire wu*oe the man tnhiuir. huulimr. eeolatrizinif; 
on another the el.-tyyieiiu, deep in the hidden rnyste 
rlest of thcnloguMl lore—but everywhere the Lien be- 
)levin# in g-oodoOea and truth, ho should be #lad to 
know that the book would be generally road by the 
American public, sa we are confident no one can peruse 
it without receiving both pleasure and profit. 
•-■» ♦ » — - 
THE BLUE DANUBE. 
The Danube, Just now tho scone of the opera¬ 
tions or the Turko-Kusslan War, Is by far the 
largest rlvor to Europe. Its unto stem rises to 
the Black Forest within thirty miles of the Rhine, 
and nows centrally through Europe—through Ba¬ 
varia, Austria proper, Hungary, between Walla- 
elila aud Benia, aud between Kouuinnla and Tur¬ 
key proper—to tho sea, having a total length of 
the main river of 1,700 miles. It has tunny large 
tributaries—tho Inn aud Iser, In Bavaria; the 
Brave and Suave, Hi styria and Crotla; the Tlieiss, 
to Hungary; tho Alula, Seroth and Pruth, In Rou- 
manla,—all of which, except the t wo first named, 
are navigable, some of them for more than 100 
miles. The Danube Itself Is navigable for 1,5*45 
miles, aud with Its tributaries for nearly 2,ooo 
miles. 
This magnificent river so closely resembles the 
Mississippi In some particulars and differs from 
It so widely In others as to make a comparison 
between them interesting to American readers. 
The Danube drains one-rourth as much territory 
as tile Mississippi, Including all of its tributaries, 
halt as much as the Missouri, and as much as the 
Ohio and Upper Mississippi together. It runs 
nearly eastward, has Its sources and those of Its 
large tributaries to the 'lyrolian and fie mine ring 
Alps and to the Carpathian Mountains. Its pas¬ 
sage through Austria and. Hungary and again 
along tint Turkish frontier is similar to the great 
American river, with wide, alluvial bottoms, over¬ 
flowed sometimes, to groat freshets, its delta and 
mouths arc exactly similar to those ot the Missis¬ 
sippi, and have been blocked up by saud bars, 
now happily removed by the genius of Sir Charles 
Hartley. When the Danube breaks through the 
Carpathian Mouutalus It presents features closely 
resembling the highlands of the Hudson River, 
though the mountain aides are much higher and 
more precipitous. 
■--■ 
A CONDENSED NOVEL. 
11k was a mall-agent on the Union Pacific Rail¬ 
road, and had a wife and little daughter at Omaha 
Whenever he left home for a fortnight on the 
rail, he would take the Uttic girl with him a block 
or two from the house, and then, kissing her 
good-bye, would send ber back to her mother. 
Jealousy took possession of him without cause, 
and one morning, about two years ago, he carried 
off the child from the wile whom he believed to bo 
