and their mind was that it was not only not a play, but that whatever it was it was bad.

Our friend swallowed the bitter dose and made his wry faces in private, though he had been obliged to take it, as he fancied, in public, with a million people looking on. Not

OU

POLITICAL.

UR Record is closed on the 16th of May. -Charles J. Faulkner was chosen United States Senator from West Virginia on May 5.

The Kentucky State Democratic Convention, May 4, nominated General S. B. Buckner for Governor by acclamation. The Republicans, May 11, nominated William O. Bradley.

The United States debt was reduced $13,053,098 during the month of April.

Queen Kapiolani of the Hawaiian Kingdom arrived with her suite at San Francisco April 20, on her way to London, to be present at Queen Victoria's Jubilee celebration in June. The royal party visited Washington, and were received by President Cleveland.

Resolutions against the Coercion Bill were passed in the Canadian House of Commons April 26, by a vote of 135 to 47.

Mr. Goschen, Chancellor of the British Exchequer, introduced the budget in the British House of Commons April 21. Last year the revenues of the government amounted to about £90,000,000, and the expenses to nearly the same sum. There was a saving of £263,000 in the army estimates, and of £347,000 in the estimates for the civil service. The revenue from taxes on alcoholic liquors decreased £190,000, that from the beer tax increased £45,000, that from the wine taxes fell off £93,000, and that from the tax on tea largely increased.

In the House of Commons, on April 28, a Liberal motion that the House decline to proceed with any measure directed against tenants' combinations for relief until a full measure for their relief from excessive rents is presented in Parliament was rejected by a vote of 341 to 240.—An amendment proposed by Mr. Healey, and supported by Mr. Gladstone, that the word "offence" in the Coercion Bill be changed to "crime," was defeated April 29, by 157 to 120.

A French commissary named Schnaebeles, stationed at Pagny-sur-Moselle, was arrested by the German police April 21, and imprisoned at Metz. He was charged with being a spy. The French denied the charge, and asserted that the man was decoyed by his captors. Intense excitement followed, and threats of war were freely made. The prisoner was liberated April 30.

The Prussian government's Ecclesiastical

Bill passed the Lower House on the third reading April 27, by a vote of 243 to 100.

DISASTERS.

April 21.-News from Victoria, British Columbia, of wreck of schooner Active off the coast of Oregon, thirty miles north of Cape Flattery, and loss of thirty-three lives.-Terrific tornado in parts of Missouri and Arkansas. Fifteen persons killed.

April 22.-Hurricane on the northeast coast of Australia. Fleet of forty pearl-fishing boats lost, with 550 persons on board.

April 24.-News in London of a disastrous fire at Arnautkeire, Asia Minor. Five hundred houses burned and many lives lost.

April 28.-News of sinking of steamer Benton, of Singapore, off island of Formosa. One hundred and fifty persons drowned.-Also of sinking of schooner Flying Scud, in Shelikoff Strait. Seventeen men lost.

Fires

May 1-7.-Hot sirocco in Hungary. followed, destroying $2,500,000 worth of property. Several lives lost.

May 2.-Wreck of Glasgow steamer John Knox near Channel Harbor. Twenty-nine sailors drowned.

May 3.-Explosion in Shaft No. 1 of Victoria Coal Mine, at Nanaimo, British Columbia. More than a hundred and twenty-five lives lost.-Earthquakes in Mexico. Several towns ruined and a hundred and fifty lives lost.

May 4.-Twelve men killed by the premature explosion of a blast in the Coosa Tunnel, on the Georgia Central Railroad.

May 8.-Ten Italian emigrants drowned from the steam-ship La Champagne, near the French coast.

OBITUARY.

April 19.-In New York, Alexander Mitchell, banker and President of the St. Paul Railway, aged sixty-seven years.

April 20.-At Annapolis, Maryland, Lieutenant John W. Danenhower, U.S.N., aged thirtyeight years.

May 4.-In Chicago, Illinois, W. C. De Pauw, founder of De Pauw University, at Greencastle, Indiana, aged sixty-five years.-In New York, George Cabot Ward, banker, aged sixty-three years.

May 5.-In Stamford, Connecticut, Hon. Oliver Hoyt, merchant, of New York city, aged sixty-four years.

May 6.-In London, James Grant, novelist, aged sixty-five years.

what kind of a husband he is. But it cannot be put aside in that flippant manner, for it is a legal right that is in question, and it has recently been decided in a Paris tribunal that the husband has the right to open the letters addressed to his wife. Of course in America an appeal would instantly be taken from this decision, and perhaps by husbands themselves; for in this world rights are becoming so impartially distributed that this privilege granted to the husband might at once be extended to the wife, and she would read all his business correspondence, and his business is sometimes various and complicated. The Paris decision must be based upon the familiar formula that man and wife are one, and that that one is the husband. If a man has the right to read all the letters written to his wife, being his property by reason of his ownership of her, why may he not have a legal right to know all that is said to her? The question is not whether a wife ought to receive letters that her husband may not read, or listen to talk that he may not hear but whether he has a sort of lordship that gives him privileges which she does not enjoy. In our modern notion of marriage, which is getting itself expressed in statute law, marriage is supposed to rest upon mutual trust and mutual rights. In theory the husband and wife are still one, and there can nothing come into the life of one that is not shared by the other; in fact, if the marriage is perfect and the trust absolute, the personality of each is respected by the other, and each is freely the judge of what shall be contributed to the common confidence; and if there are any concealments, it is well believed that they are for the mutual good. If every one were as perfect in the marriage relation as those who are reading these lines, the question of the wife's letters would never arise. The man, trusting his wife, would not care to pry into any little secrets his wife might have, or bother himself about her correspondence; he would know, indeed, that if he had lost her real affection, a surveillance of her letters could not restore it.

Perhaps it is a modern notion that marriage is a union of trust and not of suspicion, of expectation of faithfulness the more there is freedom. At any rate, the tendency, notwithstanding the French decision, is away from the common-law suspicion and tyranny toward a higher trust in an enlarged freedom. And it is certain that the rights cannot all be on one side and the duties on the other. If the husband legally may compel his wife to show him her letters, the courts will before long grant the same privilege to the wife. But, without pressing this point, the Drawer holds strongly to the sacredness of correspondence. The let

the confidences of another mind, that would be rudely treated if given any sort of publicity. [That is one reason why some communications to the Drawer never see the light.] And while husband and wife are one to each other, they are two in the eyes of other people, and it may well happen that a friend will desire to impart something to a discreet woman which she would not intrust to the babbling husband of that woman. Every life must have its own privacy and its own place of retirement. The letter is of all things the most personal and intimate thing. Its bloom is gone when another eye sees it before the one for which it was intended. Its aroma all escapes when it is first opened by another person. One might as well wear second-hand clothing as get a second-hand letter. Here, then, is a sacred right that ought to be respected, and can be respected without any injury to domestic life. The habit in some families for the members of it to show each other's letters is a most disenchanting one. It is just in the family, between persons most intimate, that these delicacies of consideration for the privacy of each ought to be most respected. No one can estimate probably how much of the refinement, of the delicacy of feeling, has been lost to the world by the introduction of the postal-card. Anything written on a postal-card has no personality; it is banal, and has as little power of charming any one who receives it as an advertisement in the newspaper. It is not simply the cheapness of the communication that is vulgar, but the publicity of it. One may have perhaps only a cent's worth of affection to send, but it seems worth much more when enclosed in an envelop. We have no doubt, then, that on general principles the French decision is a mistake, and that it tends rather to vulgarize than to retain the purity and delicacy of the marriage relation. And the judges, so long even as men only occupy the bench, will no doubt reverse it when the logical march of events forces upon them the question whether the wife may open her husband's letters.

A BITTER COMPLIMENT. "INSULTS are hard to bear, but there are some compliments which are worse than any insult," said a veteran Italian patriot, who had shared the counsels of Mazzini, dined with Count Cavour, and talked with Garibaldi upon the most famous of his countless battle-fields.

"I suppose you mean," suggested I, “the kind of compliment that a French wit paid to an enemy who had come and scribbled 'Coquin' [blackguard] upon his door one night with a piece of chalk. Next morning the wit went to the fellow's house, and said, in the

politest way possible, 'Monsieur, you left your name at my door last night, and I have come to return the visit.""

"It was certainly a two-edged courtesy," replied Signor S———, smiling grimly; "but I think I can match it from my own experience. A good many years ago, in the evil days before King Bomba was overthrown and Italy freed, one of the King's Ministers—a rascal who had been stealing the public money with both hands ever since he first came into office-was rewarded for his 'services' (whatever they may have been) by being decorated with the cross of some Italian order. On the day he received it he found among his letters of congratulation (which of course came pouring in from every side) a small plain envelop, addressed in a handwriting which he well knew." "Meaning your own, I presume, Signor S-," said I.

"We won't mention any names," answered the old gentleman, with a sly twinkle in his large black eyes. "The envelop, when opened, contained nothing but an Italian quatrain, which, if translated into English, might run somewhat as follows:

Thieves upon crosses fixed to be

In rude old times did law condemn;
In this enlightened age we see
The crosses fixed on them."

DAVID KER.

A BOSTON servant, like many of her class, does not know her age. She has lived with one family eleven years, and has always been twenty-eight. But not long ago she read in the newspaper of an old woman who had died at the age of a hundred and six. "Maybe I'm as auld as that mesilf," said she. “Indade, I can't remimber the time whin I wasn't alive."

A GOOD Baptist deacon residing in a certain town in the old Bay State, and who is also superintendent of the Sabbath-school, has the misfortune to be exceedingly nervous and excitable, which trouble often leads him in his remarks to express himself in a manner different from that intended. On one occasion, it being the Sabbath evening prayer-meeting, as he was commenting upon the Sunday-school lesson of the day, which had been the faithfulness of God to his promises, he startled the congregation by saying, “Not one tit or jottle of His word shall fail," when, noticing a suppressed titter among the audience, especially the younger portion, and conscious of a blunder, attempted to mend the matter by saying, "No; I meant not one tottle or jit.”

A CORRESPONDENT asks, Was ever any notice taken in print of the following from Thackeray's Virginians? It occurs in the fifty-second chapter. Young George Warrington had been held a prisoner in Fort Duquesne (Pittsburgh), and in his account of his escape and journey through the wilderness back to the seaboard

he says: "Now the leaves were beginning to be tinted with the magnificent hues of our autumn......As we advanced, the woods became redder and redder. The frost nipped sharply of nights. At this time of year the hunters who live in the mountains get their sugar from the maples. We came upon more than one such family camping near their trees by the mountain streams, and they welcomed us at their fires and gave us of their venison." But then Thackeray was not raised on a Vermont farm.

DO I KNOW HIM?

Do I know him, this same Mr. Bright,
Who writes all the books and reviews,
Who parcels Parnassus by right,

And dictates terms to the Muse?

Why, we bow at the Club, for form's sake
(Both belong to the Fiddlededee),
But I never ask him what he'll take-
And he certainly never asks me.

We cut in as partners at whist,
And then I know him, to my cost;
My trump signal always is missed,
And the odd trick always is lost.
We meet on the Pillowsham “nights”—
You know those hebdomadal treats,
Where one young woman recites,

And another young woman repeats;
Where it's "literature, music, and art,"
With "agnostics" by way of relief-
When he takes the floor I depart-
Life is so uncommonly brief.

Yet we're friendly, perfectly so,
Though indeed it has come to this pass-
I don't know if I know him or no,
But I think him a ponderous ass.
CHARLES HENRY WEBB.

P.S. (BY E. C. s.)
P.S.-"Tis but fair I should add
(Since each of the other steers clear)
That he really is not quite so bad
As the intimate friend whom I fear:
The comrade who sends me his lay,
To ask if I think it all right,
And begs (if I do) that straightway
A letter or two I'll indite.

A LITTLE boy about four years old, living in a New Jersey town, ran to the window one evening lately during a heavy thunder-storm. As he looked out, long, glittering lines of forked, zigzag lightning ran across the black sky, then came a broad flash, lighting up all the west and north west. "Oh, mamma! mamma!" sobbed the little fellow, "God's house is all ou fire! Will He be burned up in it ?"

A few moments after, hearing the rain pouring in torrents, he ran to her, crying, exultantly: "Mamma! mamma! God has turned on His hose. Now His house won't burn up."

SOME fifty years ago (writes a veteran) the orthodox Church people in this town, which is not far from Boston, were much disturbed at a movement to organize a Baptist church from among them, and a little congregation of that

faith had already been gathered, which was receiving accessions from the old church. The pastor in charge of the Baptist church took courage, and assured the brethren that if they would only subscribe liberally and build a meeting-house, "Parson P's chickens will all turn to ducks."

NEGRO STORIES FROM LOUISIANA.

AN old negro woman was employed as cook in the family of a Mr. S. Though a good servant in most respects, she had a propensity for petty thieving that was very annoying to her mistress. Mrs. S often missed small

quantities of tea, coffee, sugar, etc., but the cook always stoutly maintained her innocence when questioned, and in this she was usually supported by Miss Florence S, a kindhearted daughter of the family. One day Aunt Tildy (the cook) was charged with a more serious theft than usual. At first she seemed at a loss for a reply, but she suddenly burst out with: "I doan' b'lieve I tuk dat ting-no, I doan'. But if Miss Flaw'nce done say I tuk it, den I b'lieve it. Miss Flaw'nce tell de truf; I b'lieve all what she say. Jus' you ax Miss Flaw'nce, an' if she say so, den I b'lieve it—no oder way, nohow."

The more uneducated negroes show a strange inability to understand what the simplest pictures even are intended to represent, and their interpretations of more complex pictures are strangely ludicrous. In the family of Mr. S was a negro servant named Aunt Lucy. One day Miss Florence showed her a small picture of Niagara Falls, and asked her what she thought it was. After holding the picture in every possible position, Aunt Lucy finally said, "Dat sure am Miss Eva; it sure am." Miss Eva was another daughter of the family.

"Is it a good picture of her?" asked Miss Florence.

Regarding the picture with a sage air, Aunt Lucy replied, "I tink it favor Miss Eva jus' a bit."

ly, and returned home at break of day, and at breakfast was rather the worse for wear. His master thought to try the effect of frightening him by apparently reading from the morning paper the death of a drunkard in R.

"Spontaneous combustion! Horrible death of a drunkard! Last night Michael McGinnis was in a beastly state of intoxication; he retired to his room, and in blowing out the candle his breath caught fire. He was entirely consumed, and nothing left of him but the ashes in his shoes."

Sam stood with eyes agog and hands raised. "Fore Gord, 'fore Gord, Marse John, dis nigger neber blow out a candle ez long ez he lib, shuah!”

66

The majority of mankind is unwilling to have other than a large "I" in any undertaking which is successful, and more than willing to share failure with an equally large "We."

Colonel H, of Virginia, had some negroes quarrying rock, with old Uncle Ned as foreman. One morning the Colonel rode over to the quarry, and after the usual good-morning said, "Well, Ned, how are we getting along?"

"Dar 'tis ag'in. We!-how's we gittin' erlong? Marse Chawles, I's er-quarryin' dis here rock. You 'minds me uv er passel er coons ez went er huntin' deer in de swamp. Long Sam-you 'members him-Marse Torm's Sam?—well, Sam he wuz boss er de batch, an' arfter dey done sot up deir pine-knot torches, an' wuz er waitin' in de brush, Sam he spied sumpin' er-movin', an' he up wid's gun, an' bimb! sumpin' drapped, an' one er de boys sez, 'Ump! ain't we lucky? dar's one a'ready; we's got one, shuah.' An' Sam he tu'ned round, he did, an' sez, sez he, 'Not so much we, ef yer please-I kilt dat ar deer.' An' dey all went ter holp skin it, an' lo an' behold! it war Marse Torm's pet colt, out er de gray mar' whar he fotch from Richmun, an' Sam he looked kinder skeert, he did, an' sez, sez he, 'Boys, 'ain't we jes played h- - An' ebry one uv 'em answered, 'Not so much we, ef yer please; you done kill dat colt. 'An', Marse Chawles, I's erquarryin' dis here rock, an' we's gittin' erlong only middlin'."

It was this same Uncle Ned who was accosted by the writer upon return from college (and after the days of reconstruction) with, "Goodmorning, Uncle Ned-good-morning."

"G'long, chile, g'long; yer mustn't talk dat way ter me now. I's no kin o' yourn; I's yer ekal now, I is, 'cordin' ter de fifteent commandment. G'long !”

And who, later, upon being urged to finish a bit of ploughing before sundown, said, “G'long; w'at's de use er hurryin' so; dar's ernudder day ter-morrow dat ain't eben been tetched yit!"

R. A. MARR.

324

HOW THE REPUTATIONS OF DISTINGUISHED AMATEURS ARE SOMETIMES MADE. Schumann"" M. LANGUEDOR (the Famous Painter) to Miss Gushington: "Ah! For ze music, miladi Cretonne has a talent kvite exceptionnel! Listen to zat! HERR SILBERMUND (the Great Pianist) to Mrs. Tatler: "Ach! Lady Creichton has, for bainting, der most remarrgaple chênius! Look at dis! It is equal to Felasquez!" It surpass Madame -From a drawing by George Du Maurier.