ROBIN HOOD'S LAND.

The Charm Growing Oat of Lit-erary Identification.

Genial and Entertaining Taper on theOlden Haunts of Robin Hood and

Friar Tuck Ileplete "With Some VeryPleasing Legends, l'oetry and Ilem-

lniscences.

[Regular Correspondence of the SundayUnion. Copyright, 1801.1

Nottingham, England, Jan. 14,1891.The longer one wanders in England,

Scotland and Ireland, the more encom-passing and impressive becomes thatcharm fjrowiug out of what may betermed literary identification.

Over then in Ireland what can be morefascinating than a silent ramble aboutslumberous old Youghal and up drowsyKiloolman way? There Kaleigh andSpenser lived, loved and wrought.Tramping from Killarncy toC'ahersivten.one lingers lovingly at Oarhan bridge;for beside it the great O'Connell wasborn. Who but a bigot can climb theBook of Cashel without a subdued andreverential feeling from the historic andsacred surroundings; or who but an in-\u25a0Bnaatc shudders not at Uoyne or'Augh-rim when- the liftofa nation broke in itslast wildthrob upon river and morass?Then, at Slane, who can fail ofawe in thepresence ofprehistoric monuments rival-ing the pyramids themselves? To standon Tara's Hill, in Meath, and In fancyace St. Patrick, unmindful of the, treach-ery planning his death, with his eightdevoted followers, coining up the royalhill, chanting his prayer, "May thoword of <iod render me eloquent!" toforever dim the fires of Belltaine with the\u25a0acred flame ofChristianity through theconversion of King Laegnaire, and theoverthrow ofpaganism, in Ireland, is tocome with startling tenderness close toan inspired career of one who lived butto bless nearly 1,500 years ago, Vagueand far it was to you before. Bat youfeel and know the itory now.

So, too, how illimitable Beem humancycles, y« how compact and little, whenyou are stumbling among the remains oithat tremendous pagan stronghold, I>;.nJEngus, on the remotest precipice <>iAranniore, the most desolate ofalllre-landjs islands. The great arena oiogist, L>r.Petrie, termed \i "the most magnificentbarbaric monument in Europe." Thelegend is that Dun Angus and the fiveother groal forte, or duns, of the Aranislands were l>u;lt from 1,000 to 1,500 yearabefore the Christian era by the flyinganlfated Firbolgs. No matter about thelegend. There they stand to-day, moreweird, suggestive and awe-inspiring intheir dn-:;il secrets ofthe people that were,than_ ever could lie in the silence of theLybian Sphnix. And then, away in theNorth, over beyond old Derry, what athrill dashes through one when standingalone upon the walls of tho mightyGrriauan of Aileach, whose existence canbe definitely traced to the period lO.'kS be-fore Christ! Grianan, the mighty Dun,af which w.- iv;i<l in tiie Din^enchas:Ail\u25a0.\u25a0iich-Kirin. pkit or tin- kiusj-rath rovul of

tin. world;Dun, to wiii>'h led horse-roads, tbroagh five

might; ramparts.So they di<l. You can teaee them to

this day as clearly as t lie paths in yourown garden. On the crests of those cir-cling mountains burned the signal-firesin vi"dim days, a tiara of flame, to wakethe helots and their herds. Thither tothe Grianan they streamed, those skin-clad hordes. Within .those very ram-parts huddled the affrighted women aadthe flocks. Within those •.'cry wallsKings watched over b&ttles: There werethe iras;-; of Victory; the wailiugs andhansntattons; thtfweird, Wild rights; allaShauaand<sreaTß before barbarous man

\u25a0y<-r..l i'.ie god ofday to the oneinfinite God. I "»;1 1 you did not sense thisuntil your own feet had pressed the sameoarth theirs had trod, and your teyes hadlooked upon lone Errigal, likea cone of

; Ln the West, and throughshe grim,dark passes, to the purple mists aboveArmagh and Tyrone.ivall that <-:m he read of the "'Land o*

Cakes" how the true feeling is lackhur,until one weds pr< sence and actuality ... .the boneless tales ofworda To know theweird straths and.glens of the North, tobreathe their air, drink in their wild andgorgeous colorings, to listen to the roar oftheir gorgeous waterfalls, to sail overtheir silent lochs, to tremble in theirmighty storms, is to come very close inthough! and sympathy to that grand andnoble race v. !:i«-ii all of ih.- Roman le-gions could noi conquer. Its desperate,fateful loyalty to the House of Stuart c;rtinever be fully und< rstood until you havetramped from the Western Ocean to theGerman, and wandered on CullodenMoor. Macbeth, King Duncan and Mal-colm Canmore are mere creatures piShakespeare's ftmcy until you find inthe '.lu.-iy old records of Inverness thatthey once walked its streets with all olyour own passions, hope, ambition, anduntil you have stood on Toiunahauricli.by the Ness-side, you have never reallyknown Hugh Miller, stonemason.heart and sage. Despite Dr. Johnson'smatchless apoitropne to lona, the storyofColumb's saintly isle, of the Christ-ian enlightenment emanating from it tothe British Isles and the greater part <>tEurope, when nearly au the sceneslighted by the iirst fires of apostolics.ic rinoe had partially relapsed intosuperstitious barbarism, is as dream-ful as the legends of theHolyGrail, until you have stood amongthe majestic ruins of [ona and wanderedalong its "Straid-na-Marbh," where Becountless ohiefe, friars, abbots and kiiiLr-^.After yon have passed an hour in the an-cient churchyard of Greyfriars, in Edin-burgh, yipi! wiil begin torealise who werethe Covenanters ol Scotland, and whatthey endured i'er their consciences1 sake.When you have come to the ruins oiLocbmaben, Robert the Bruce, •patriotking ami warrior, first leaves iiie mfns ollegend and traditions, and welcomes youas a :i!:iu of flesh and blood to his oldhome by the sedgy lake. Melrose, Dry;burgh and all tiie grand monastic struc-tures of the sunny, iimrnmrous Tweed arepoets' phantasms until you wander amongl heir ruined cloisters and touch with yourown hands the brave old stones of theiimajestic arches. Scott, the "EttrickShepherd." Caxlyle, even Burns h:m-el;'.are half ideal, until you have stood by theEttriek and x arrow, sadly left the prince-lyAbhotsfonl. shuddered at the dolorousdearth and meanness of Oarlyle's boy-howl home at Ecclefechan, and heardwith j-our own hearing the melodioussongs of the Nit!\u25a0 and the Doon,If this is true of Ireland and Scotland.

how infinitely more impressive is thisidentification to the average Americanpilgrim in England, the mother-land ofour own race and tongue. A mightyvolume, and a swept and tender one,withal, could be made relegating appar-ent realities to their home in myth-land.and beckoning from the realms of legendand tradition the actual beings whoseimagery lirst swept from reality, andwhom successive centuries of pfancy, shared alike by us from childhoodto manhood, have place.} further and fur-ther behind the ever-loved veilings ofmystery and song. No two charactersin the semi-mythology of Britain anbetter illustrations than those of KingArthur and Kobin Hood. Antitysthey were and are, the one the embodi-ment of the loftiest and noblest qualitiesin ruler and man, the other, jocundanarchist and Puckish freebooter and"levclor" of his time, both are objectsof equal, though unlike devotion, notonly in the literature of centuries, but inthe* breasts of millions who speak theEngli.-ii mngue.

The most curious thing about these twocharacters is that the least aids to identi-fication are found among the high-minded and learned. Literature uni-versally places them in shadow-land.But go where you may among theEnglish lowly. King Arthur is reallythert; Robin Hood with his faithful.

Little John, Friar Tuck and their hundredarchers bold, are evor a goodly company,a helpful unconscious ethical counter-poise, it has sometimes seemed to me,where burdens and impositions of-'casteand condition are mo3t grievous an<l soreto abide. A few years of wanderinga;iv.ng the British lowly, monf than alli i ling and study, have convinced me

:"th King Arthur and Robin Hoodonce really existed and lived much thesame manner oflives aa the song and bal--lad makers, although responsible for theirlegendary eharueter.have shadowed forth.1 cm take you into thousands of cabinsin L'evoiLsliiro, Cornwall and in Brittany—for King Arthur id even, more a god tothe Britons than to the West of EnglandArmorican Celts—where the book* areunknown ; wheiv no manner ofliteratureever came; where history of clan andsrpt hay.! been preserved from father toBon; where the Arthurian legends livemore bright and glowing than in all theprinted tales of the Table Bound. Theseabsolutely bookless folk will take you totho very landing-place of King Uther;show you the real remains ofthr> twin rustics Tintagel and Ter-rabil: relate how Uther I'endragen be-sieged the Duke of Cornwall, slewhjin, and the same day wed his widow,Ygrayne, to whom the child, Arthur, wasborn, and reared by the enchanter, Mer-lin, under the good Sir Ector's care, who! \u25a0 Stored to him the kingdom of Cornwall<>n Fcndrnpon's death; hew the nobleKing Arthur instituted the Order otKnights of the Kound Table, whosesaintly acts in the service of (iod and, until they fell into sin, were deeds<>r good and glory; how Arthur lovedonly and wed Guinevere, betrayed byLauncelot; and, at last, receiving hisdeath-wound in battle with his rebellionsnephew's forces at Camelford (which thepoets make Camelot), Arthur bade theloyalknight, Sir Bedevor, carry him toDbzmare Pool, lling his sword Excaliburtherein, when a Ijoat, rowed by three

Keens,appeared, [ntothia Arthur was

ed, and borne away to the island-valeAvillion, that his grievous wound

,'lit be healed. These folk say. ami Ih-,'C, that Arthur is still in fairy-hind:

that his spirit oiten returns in the guiseof a bird, the chough, hovering about theold scenes with pathetic murmering; andthat ho willsurely "come again,"'•Wearing the white flower of a blameless

life,"To reign as a King should and mightover his beloved England. literaturenever provided a hundred thousandbookless folkwith this. It remains, be-cause in it has been preserved, withoutbooks, a fadeless actuality.

In like manner Robin Hood's Land be-comes the whole of England. Piercingtheir armor of sodden reserve, you will<iml that the sober English peasant andthe grave English workman, have minusfull enough of chivalry and romance.Robin Hood is Immortal withthese, be-cause as a "leveler" ofrank and class, berepresents an undeftnable vet certainpower to buffet the church and the nobil-ity. He is arescuer of maids in distressand men in duress. He embodies theanconscions yet universal l.v.ning to-wards Communism among the Englishlowly. Above all, he is the luminoustype of that dearest thine to every lowlyBriton's heart, "fair play," whether infrolic, frcebooting or fight. Fairly de-lined, Robin Hood's Land comprises theshires of Nottingham and Lincoln withthe southern half of Yorkshire. There is

j not a plowman, forester, gamekeeper, andI would almost venture to say, any hu-man being among the lowly outside thefactories, in this portion of England, whoh:i-i not a clearer conception of the life.character and exploits of the merryoutlaw than all books could give. Asis well known, tho manuscript andold-record researches by the llev. JosephHunter, an assistant keeper of thepublic records of England, madepublic in 18.32, placed fairly within the do-main of authentic history the facts con-cerning the actual existence and career oiRobin Hood. He was born about liiM.His familywere ofsome station, anil seat-ed at Wakefleld. Withmany others he be-came an outlaw from having espousedthe cause of the unfortunate Earl of Lan-caster, He retreated with a hundred ormere of his comrades to the depths ofSherwood Forest, not a score of milesfrom his; birthplace. By their unequaledskill in archery; godless pranks withLords and Bishops; robberies of the highto share with the lowly, and their ade-quate wits in all exigencies, they securedthe loyalty of ;he peasantry roundaboutand put to defiance the entire forces olthe crown. At this juncture King Ed-ward wisely pardoned Robin Hood, giv-ing him service as one of tho "valets, por-Steurs de la chambre," in the royal house-hold. Hero ho remained "for morethan a year, to which existingvouchers for his payment attest. Butthe hunger for the greenwood wastoo strong. Begging the King for per-mission to visit the old chapel at Barns-dale, itwas granted "for a sennight."Having once rejoined his comrades, hecould not again be persuaded to leavethen:; ami ho continued the old outlaw'slife, until, resorting to the priory ofKirkless for surgical aid, he died fromloss of blood, and was buried in thegrounds of the priory, now KirklessHall, four miles north of Huddersfield,and the seat of the noble family ofArmytage.

But. precisely tis I have found with thoOorniah and Devonshire peasantry inidentification of King Arthur and hislanil.it is among the lowlyof Notting-hamshire and Yorkshire that are discov-ered innumerable proofs, in tradition, bal-lad and nomenclature, of the merry out-law and iiis men. Literature has not cre-ated these for the delectation of an igno-rant peasantry. The peasantry them-selves have furnished, by word ofmouth,the material—and but an infinitesimalportion has been utilized—enabling writ-ers old and new to transfer the real HobinHood to the Robin Hood of lictionandsong. Aclose defining of Robin Hood'sLand would give it the area of SherwoodForest in Nottinghamshire and BarnsdaleForest in Yorkshire, with a narrow stripof country loading northeast throughsouthern Yorkshire, to the sea, near Scar-borough, the latter being occasionallytraveraed by the outlaws when too closelypressed by the King's soldiery. In theoutlaw's time but one highway'traversedthe region. That was the old RomanRoad from London to Berwick. Perhapshalf a dozen hamlets, the one ancient cityof Nottingham, so old that its history hasbeen traced back S>JO years before theChristian era and its first inhabitants dugholes in the rocks for homes, and a fewchapels, abbeys and priories of the rudestconstruction, could have been found inall the area. To-day a forest of chimneysStands where stood the giant Englishoaks. You can look from no open spotwithin it, without your horizon beingclouded with their black silhouettesagainst a smoke-laden sky. As manyhundreds of towns and hamlets are inRobin Hood's Land now as there weresingle ones in the archer-outlaw's time.Bui near the roaring of the forge, theciatter of the looms and the mournfulsongs of millions of spindles, like thetiny nests of the meadow-larks escapingthe blades of the reapers, are littlenestsof English peasants' homes, bits of En-glish copse and hedge, and patches of an-cient English oak, which modern in-dustry and modern laudiordisna have notquite effaced; and it is among these, seek-ing the wraiths and traditions of theolden Robin Hood's Land and the new,that we willgo pilgriming in our next.

Edgar L. Wakemas..«.

Prince Nicholas, of Montenegro, hasordained i:i his olueial gazette that everyone of his active warriors shall plant dur-ing LBBI aOO grape-vines, every Brigadiermust plant twenty, every commanderand under commander of a battalion ten,every drummer or color bearer five.Every guide, moreover, must plant twoolive trees, and every corporal one. Thegazette calculates that in consequence ofthis order Montenegro will have 4,000,000grape-Tinas and olive trees on Jan-uary Ist.

Anew enterprise has been started inChicago for the purpose of transportingcattle from the great ranches in Wyom-ing. I'tah and Montana to Philadelphia,where immense abattoirs will be erected,it is intended that this dressed beef shallgoto supply the European markets. Itwillcost less to ship live cattle to Phila-delphia and kill th*mthere than to killthem in the West and ship the dressedbeef to New York and Europe.

AN UNIQUEASYLUM.

How Foundlings Are Provided Forin Peru.

The >Toble and Self-SacrlOolng Work

of the SJsters of Charity In Peru—

How Unfortunate AValfs are Ro-«ceived and Cared for.

[Special Correspondence of Sunday Union.]

Arequipa, Peru, 1898.In the center of the old city, nearly op-

posite the ruins of what was once thewoman's hospital, which was shakendown by the great earthquake of twentyyears ago —is a very ancient-lookingstructure,straggling over an entire square,whose closed doors and small, heavily-barred windows give no hint ofwhat maybe going un within. My attention wasnisi aUractod by its appearance of an-tiquity, the utter silence that broods ovorthe locality, and the numbers of black-gowned priests and blue-gowned Sistersof Charity who aro constantly gliding inand out its worm-eaten portal. One day,having extended my walk tothefertherside of the enormous building where itfaces an unfrequented thoroughfare, Iob-served something which aroused naycuriosity to the highest pitch—merely akind of wooden cage or turn-s'.iie set inthe walis, sluiped like a circular box withtwo compartments, which clianced to beslowly revolving aa I passed. What coulditbe—another "mystery of the monkery,"or a relic of Inquisition days? While 1looked, the box slowly turned again andpresented its blank aide to the street, solike the surrounding walls, that onemight pass .a thousand times ami nevernotice it. But a little groove remained,into which the fingers might be lined,and of course the spirit of Mother Eveimpelled mo to try it. Pulled one way. itrefused to atone: pulled the other, thecage swung around witii a rheumaticcieak and turned its empty compartmentto the view. Journalistic enter).rise de-manded a solution of tiie riddle, andforthwith I became a walking interroga-tion point until the bottom facia were at-tained.

The ancient edifice—which is nownearly three hundred years old, and formore than two centuries served as a con-veii^ibr the nuns of Santa Catarina— isone of the ssveral foundling institutionswhich have long flourished in Peru; andthe swinging box, like those we read ofiii Prance and Italy, is set every nightwith its hollow side outward, for the re-ception of any infants that may lie placedin it by unknown hr.nds —a perpetuallyopen door for the shelter of those unwel-come waifs who are immeasurably worsethan orphaned, and whose acknowledge-ment Brings ruin upon their erring pa-rents. Theniother,or her emissary, steal-ing along that deserted street in the dark-ness, has only to put the new-born citi-zen into the box, give it the Slightest im-petus, and around itturns, affording im-mediate protection to the tiny occupant,while no eye inside the building can seewho placed it there. ASister or Charityis stationed on the inner side of the wall,whose sole biLsiness it is to watch for newarrivals at all hours of the night, to re-ceive and care for them.

A newspapez column is not the placefor discussing those social Questions thathave perplexed the wisest heals and no-blest hearts ever since this sinful worldwas young—those saddest problems thatseem to thwart the plans ofthe Almightyand almost make one doubt His over-ruling care. lam only to relate what ex-ists in A'requipa, as in many other partsof South America, leaving my readers to

I approve or condemn, according to theirindividual convictions. Certainly Cath-olic Peru is Inadvance ofmost Protestanlco,mi rfea in having almost entirely erad-icated the crime ofaestroying infants be-fore their birth, by rendering it possiblefor unwedded mothers to dispose of theproofs of their shame without committingmurder and possibly suicide. In com-munities which are perhaps more civ-ilized the impression appears to prevailthat if provision were made for the llot-sam and jetsam thus east up on the sea ofhuman wickedness, it would be an en-couragement to vice—as if the youngwomen of the land would Hock to availthemselves of the privilege !

In due time we obtained permission tovisitthe unique asylum, which, like allother bcnevc)lcnt institutions of SouthAmerica, is conducted under the directauspices of the Church of Rome. How-ever Christians of diverse sects who aretraveling the many routes to heaven maydiner on dogmas and doctrinal points, aunot blinded by bigotry must yield thepalm of unselfish livingand tireless prac-tice of charity, the greatest of Christianvirtues, to the uncounted army ofCatholicdevotees, male and female, who havegiven their lives to the rare of the sick,the indigent, the helpless, and the so-called "heathen." Xo spot on the earth'ssurface is too bleak or forbidding, nohuman beings too degraded, and no depthof crime or misery too dark to be pene-trated by the ministrations of learnedmonks and gentle Sisters ofCharity—notmerely by the easy method of sendingliiblcs, tracts and the contributions ofother people, but by going to live amongthe objects of religious solicitude and de-voting toilsomo years to bettering theircondition.

Led by the matron, we went first to in-spect the mysterious hole in the wallClose to its inner opening stands the littleiron bedstead—with a cross at the foot ofit and a picture of the Mother of Sorrowsat its head—where rests the good Sisterwhose nightly business it was to watchthe revolving cradle and to take out newcoiners. She informed me that the num-ber of additions to the household by thismeans averaged about three a week, andthose so far during the current year(eight months of itwere then gouei onlyseventy-two had been received. She Baidthat the majority of these children whosebirth-days nobody celebrates, evidentlybelong to the poorest classes and arrivenaked or wrapped in rags, others aredressed in the daintiest raiment that loveand wealth and the instinct of maternaltenderness can suggest; that with the lat-ter is usually found a generous sum ofmoney for the child's maintenance, andnot infrequently a tear-blotted letter be-seeching especial care for the forsakenbaby and promising to pay well for itsfuture support. What suggestions oftragedy are here—of human frailty anddivine compassion—of the old perplexingproblem that came with the tempter intoKdcii!

This box is an inexhaustible source ofrevenue for the asylum, and nearly everynight it is secretly revolved by outsidehands (presumably those who have unac-knowledged children within), and punasput in labeled for tho support of the iu-laut received on such and such a dale.Xo questions are ever asked, and no ef- 'forts made to trace the parentage of thewail's. On certain days of the week theinstitution is open to visitors, and thechildren msiy be adopted by whoever de-sires them; thus giving the unknown pa-rents an opportunity of secretly seeingtheir castaways, and of eventually repos- 'sessing themsehes of them without fear Iof discovery—unless, as sometimes hap-pens, nature is too powerful to be over-come by guile and unfortunate babies de-velop a marked resemblance to the au-thors oftheir being.

The out*r walls of the quaint old build-ing are four feet thickand ramble aroundthree inner court-yards, each of whichhas its central fountain and tangle ofllowers and passion vines, and a clumpot olive or tig trees shading the shrine ofa Christ, a Virgin or a saint Thesecourts are surrounded by corridors,whose tiled arches are upheld by lon<>-lines of queerly-carved pillars, nowstreaked with mold and crumbling under"the insidious tooth of time." Travers-ing their moss-grown pavements, wefound the path obstructed by severaldonkeys that had been driven to theinner doors with supplies of fuel, milkand vegetables; and the blue-gownedmatron—her round, benevolent face skin-

ing 'like a full-blown peony in tho sun,with rosary, crucifix and bunch of keysjingling at her side, and tbe flaps o f her\vi<l<\ white bonnet standing out likesails—tailing to bodge the animal by theusual "st-th-thf underlie!" put hersti-ong,fat shoulder to each one's rump andquietly poshed itout of the way.

Such immaenlate cleanliness pre railseverywhere that one might eat off Fromevery inch of flooring, whether ofwood,tile or adobe, and such absolute sii sneereigned that we found it difficult to- be-lieve there were actually a great numberofchildren quartered under the roof. Nomuddy little fool-prints,, nor mark?; ofcareless lingers, nor shtmts of childishglee proclaimed their existence. Aglimpse of the perfect discipline neededin such a crowded msfiicftlan is raiy-where enough to give one a. hearttn ihe,with the knowledge that the res< uedwaits, though comfortably fed i'ulclothed, mndt become hardly BBON l h.mautomatons —rising ami rotating, cad ag,sleeping, playing and, praying bym-ei-orable rote, led by the nod and beck oftheir keepers. The good sisterhood. !>ythe way, being all maiden ladies of .*er-tain age, are Wareely the natural gna ->!i---;ins of childhood, havi'.'.g vohmtaidlyforegone the development of the ma; er-nal instinct and being compelled i>y tl i ,vows to stonily repress the Dooat tea ier>e:itiiiK!itsoi the I.cart. Worthy \v<;ii vthough tiiey undoubtedly are, Is< :>.::\u25a0• .every countenance In vain tor one fer ice

of that undeiinable yet immis'.aka ilesweetness of exnreasioa indicative ofcompleted womanhood^ that comes oi iJyto the faces of those who lime loved.

In this asylum the ehildron are ea re-fall trained in the tenets oftheeaarislL,and educated to a ni"deiv.:v extent in ; heloreof i»>o;-:s, while each i.s i;u'.ght so ucuseful trade which lie or she iiiuyjpraet tfelor future support. Thus, »"liile the li«i ysleara saddlery, ahoe-making, Dttnd <>-weavincr, cabnu-t-Nvork. <i.-,, the gi "Ismftnnfactnro artificia] uowevs, i;;i; cryboxes, lace and embroidery, and arctrained for domestic '..-rvice. If notadopted, and Uf«eli-sapp4irtjjur, they m »yremain here permanently -shouid" th ;ychoose to do so; oraitheafa ol eightectn

; they may go forth to shift ror themselvti B.There are are a number of uorpaan&"

1 here, both male and female, Beared in t' v:insiiLuiioii and are now neoring middleagS, wiio prefer to work iuird ail llk irnays for tin; general good, rather thi .nLeave the shelter oi' ihy only home they

I have- ever known, Tfce young men ear n; considerable sums at fcneir varioiK occi t-pations, and the girls take in fine sew in :,embroidery and laundry wont. Th< yhave also a iikklcl bakery inthehonso,and i!k' very best bread that is sold bal!i'' < \u25a0 ii

>"cosies from these ovens.

At present there are 438 children in tl .oasylum. The smallest of bhese aiii<> to \ «outof the nursery (a class offorty-se>e abetween the ages of2and "> years), wei cput through tueir i), si paces tor ouredifi -cation, with liitlcsongs and parrot-lik odialogues, each setting ionh 1heir peli.-gi<<;is liiiiiiand the gocwbiesa of their ore -tectora. Allwere neatly, tliough poert.vdad—the girls in bine gingham gowns.,the boys withjeao-jackets and trousers ,hoLli sexes wearing aprons exactly alike,of the siime coarse-biae ciotii tiiai ihcSisters wear tor dresses, with woolenhose knit by the larger girls and peggedshoes made by tin beyss ESaoh littleapron had a square pocket patched on infront, into which ".va-s thrust a calicohandkerchief—but the usual lamentableneglect peculiar to childhood's use ot thelatter article prevailed. Ai the head ofeach little cot in the long, clean dormi-tory hung a calico img, marked with theowner's number, containing a comb anda rosary— and woe to the kicklessjTOung-ster who forgets the use of either r

The most amusing j>::rt of our enter-tainment was furnished by the largeboys' band. We came down the Old stoneStairBof the dormitory at the tap of thedrum, and saw ranged under the lig-trees a group of lads trom twelve to four-teen years old. who rendered some reallycreditable music upon what at lirstsighilooked to be first-claw insfcromeats.(.'loser inspection, howover^&sclosed thaithe horns and cornets were nothing lnupaste-board and twisted paper, tbe bass

[drum madtt of a skin stvetched over ahalf-barrel, held in place by the originalhoop, and the snare made from a iancan which still showed the New Yorkbrand painted on its side. One younggenius had a section of oasle cut into \u25a0\u25a0>flute; another had a bit ofCoarse com I \u25a0

withabit of paper over it for a mouth-piece, and the rest tooted away upon iine-lociii combs. -Among the crowd of little faces it isnotitoeable that none ofthem are purelyIndian, thougii so large v percentage ofPeru's population an Indians. Many areunmistakable aristocrats in feature'andbearing, and not a few have the fair hairand blue eyes ofAnglo-Saxon blood.

On tho following Sunday we were in-vited to go with the children to a beauti-ful estate in the outskirts of the city whichhad been willed to the institu;ii>n l>y adeceased Frenchman. We marched threemiles through dusty i-nies bordered bycactus and wild nastuuior.s, Inside theblue-gowned sisterhood and trees ofcastaways, simply Tor the pleasure of see-ing the latter enjoyan houror twooffr<v-dom and sunshine. There is house onthe estate, a beautiful Mower-garde:;, a:i

orchard, swings, arbors, fields green withbarley and alfalfa, and meadows whereslieej) were browsing; and it did one'ssoul good to see tbe forsaken creatureshappy as so many butrentie:--, the elderchildren taking care of the littleones, andthe good sisters sitting by, each busywith her knitting-w-ork.

Fa.\-nik r>. Ward.«.

A CUXOTAK.Y CT.ITIC.

John 8011, be luvr- his href and ale,His pudotßg full of plums.

The Frenchman likes his fricasseeAmi irons' legs with bread ertbn&a,

Thr Scotchman cats his meal ofoats,Like horses in a paddock.

His hniiuis weird, his hodgepodge strange,Ami toothsome Hunan haddock ;

And—tell Itnot in (iatli, my boys—In whispers be it said:

II"•.iiim-iinns c\ in longs to eatHis inaniui-lade ob broad.

Tho German favors saurkraut,And ripe Umbergi rcbe te,

Hot and cold slaw, and other tliifi"Ts,That /it'lldigest with ease.

You join :v band Of Muscovites—Tiny v,i>h you at the dene*,

Because you cannot make a mealOlfcamlle a fc Ru.sse.

Within a Chinese restaurant,Voii h< :n- ;i wsttec baOoa :

"Nice bird's nest toon roust rat quite hot—And puppy iio>; to lullow."

You 'line with a Ben Island chief,Where a!l the dishes vary.

From yams on rice. (<> babes OB toastAnd roasted missionary.

Tlie Bwralnwoxfi imiiuhUu HuiilePronounces you a lubber.

Bwmrtwe yoa nave no appeutaFor walrus nil and Ijlubber.

And thus you tind in many climes.Wherever you may roam,

TbecooUng la not cmili; tne sameAs inat \ i>v gal at home.

And nflen la your wanderingsYou drop :i taat and si..'i>

']For oyster itew and Baeeotub, j

lee en :[:•] and pumjikui pie. iHut the one dish of all the rest

in which tny fuicv laanaIs my New Kin;! md's irnate-t pride—

My Yankee pork and hnilH—Acw EnyUtnd Magazine.

Tlie Curfew.As in OM England, so in New England I

is the curfew still heard. In Boston the I!' o'clock bell WM rung from time imme- imorial up to within a very lew .wars. So, !also, at s o'clock in theniorninn and 1o'clock in the afternoon. Many Boetom-ans regretfully miss iliisgood old eastern;old, M is witni sseil by Joseph Josst'lynv ]uliu visited Boston in 1881, ami mnis idescription says: "On the south there isS small but pleasant common, where the |jraliants, a little before sunset, walk with itheir inuriualcl in::>l.iii:.-. as v.c do inMoorsticld, etc., till the !' o'clockrinus them home to their respective hnbi- itations, when presently the -Goastabtesu;;!k their ronmls t<> see good orderkept and take up loose people/

In many of out towns the curicuv stillrin^s out o'er hill and dale. In SouthAmerica it is called the "Stay-bell"— jtoque (U: la gucdn —and alter it was runp.at 10 o'clock, the use of the streets waaforbidden by municipal ordinances to the iinhabitants of C&iito and other Peruvian !towns, —New England Magazine.

IN RELIGION'S REALM.

Expressions from the VariousReligious Newspapers.

The Religious Thonjzht of the Day asExpressed in the Sectarian Press—

Some Matters of Interest to Both

Ministers and Laymen.

The Herald and Presbyter had said:'•< >i>r Roman Catholic exchanges are dis-cussing the question. ' Can a priest con-vey absolution by telephone?' More mo-mentous, however, is tho question, 'Canhe convey it at all?' We do not believethai beean. 'Who can forgive sin butGttdonlyP* 1 On this the Christian Unionremarks: "The Herald and frexbyterIrs not yet learned the lesson Christ at-tempted to teach those who first deniedthat a man can forgive sin. Christ saidtoe Son of man can forgive sins; andafterward He sent His disciples out withthe.assurance 'whosoever sins ye remitthey an remitted.' And still Christianministers quote, as though it were con-clusive, the words of the carping Jewdenying that man can forgive sins."

Tho Watchman (Bapt.) says: "Not alittle is said by those averse to'revival 1

mi thods In churches as to the honor to beput upon the 'regular' agencies. The'regular 1 agencies are to be honored, no \one doubts that, but we have a profoundscepticism as to the efficiency of 'regular'dullness and formalism, and of all me-chanical and lifeless service, regular orirregular. When we talk about the valueof 'the regular services' we need to havea pretty clear idea of what these regularservices are. If they arc not Informedwith life, with freshness, and with spirit-ual power, a littleirregularity that wouldintroduce these elements would be thebesi thing. Bat when'the regular scrv-Iices' of a church are vital and inspiring,and blessed l>y the Spirit to the conver-sion of men and the bnildfngnp of man-

jhood, we do not need irregularity of anyikind."

The OongregaUonalisi thinks well of; baniism "without any water." It says: jI "The Christian Inquirer ofDecember 25th! had iin article on the consecration of in-jfa nts,and editorially commended the uruc-tiee. Tho ceremony suggested seems tohave been similar to that usually em-ployed in infant baptism, except that nowater was to be used, hs published oor-

[ respoßdence on the subject shows thatthere are !'.aj> r.ist churches in which thepublic consecration of infants iscommon,one pastor sending a copy of a 'certificate<ii' consecration.' Other correspondentsare greatly alarmed, and regard the prac-tice as 'Romish' and a 'Popish folly.' Yetii shows how near together are many Bap-ti-ts and Congregatioiialists. The gulfthat divides them is not only shallow,'butabsolutely dry. Those children whoseparents solemnly and publicly enter into

jcovenant with (Jod in their behalf, evenwithout any wate;-, we have strong confi-dence will realize the fulfillment of Hispromises, and accept the conditions of the

i covenant as they come to maturity."

On the subject of opening the Colum-i bus Fair on Sundays the Uev. J. ii. VanBureo writes in the Churchman (P. E.):•'There may be different opinions on the

I nature and obligations of Sunday itself;; but whatever view may be taken. Sab-batarian or other, in this the Chris-tian element of the American peopleunite, they do keep Sunday. It is notright for the authorities in charge of theWorld's Fair to ignore their wishes. ToBet aside the sanctions which have thustin- safeguarded the Lord's day would beusurping a function which the Govern-ment ofthc United Kates itself does notexercise. For, while the Constitution ideclares that 'Congress shall make nolaw respecting .an establishment of re-ligion or prohibiting the free exercisethereof,' the opening of tie World's Fair !would certainly prohibit the 'free cxer-ci:.t \u25a0" of religion to every employe in theservice of the commission. " Such acourse-could not be said to reflect arightthe genius of American institutions as in- !terpreted by Congress itself, which al-ways adjourns on Sunday."

Tiie Western Christian Advocate lias anew view of pastas. It says: "We sus-poet that .Satan has something to do witlitiming these stock panics. They do nothurt many people, but they do give somea chance to cry 'hard times'as an excuse.br not taking church papers or helpingon the benevolences. Never was a Christ-mas more generally or generously ob-served than the last one. Never weremore cigars smoked than on that day—ormiteriniter ones, perhaps. Home spreadshave been abundant, and outside the :speculating and borrowing classes therebits been little financial distress. Hut itis whispered aloud by some pastors thatthey meet the 'hard times' when theyapproach some laymen en the matter offour cents a week for the Advocate."

"Farmton" says in the Advance: "Idonot approve of the church-bell. Poetry,imagination, history are on its side; butusefulness is against it. Formerly uss-fulness was in its favor. For formerlywatches were not common, and clockswere less common than at present; andrare was not easily exercised as to theaccuracy of these measures of time.Parishioners needed the bell as an aid intheir promptness at the service. But atpresent every house has a clock, andits daily adjustment by the noon whistlesis easy enough. The bell has becomecomparatively useless. Jiut, further, thobell has become in many instances anuisance. If every church in one of ourcities iiad a bell ringing at the same hour,what a commotion, worse confoundedthan all Poe's poetry about 'bells' cansuggest. Such a commotion is not pleas-ant for healthy folks; but to folks whosenerves are ticklish it is a torture; and tothose who lieon beds of sickness, eitherchronic or temporary, these noises are aformol the barbarism of.a Christian civ-ilization from which they have the right10 ask to ))o freed. I admire the judg-ment, as wellas tho energy in which thejudgment was expressed, "with which Dr.John Hall declined to have a chime ofbells put into the steeple of the FifthAvenue Church. A gentleman offered achime of bells. 'If it is accepted," thopastor is reported as saying, 'the FifthAvenue Church can be looking for a newminister.' He had a heart big for thesuffering ones who lie in the great hospi-tal directly opposite his church. Xochurch bell should be allowed in a city.In the country it is far less objectionable;and in a sparsely settled community itmay prove of great worth, ministeringsit once to aesthetic delight and religiousemotions, as wellas prompting topunc-tuality."

The Rev. Prof. Crooks, of Drew Theo-\ogical Seminary, writing in the Me.tho-littt llivinv for January on "Tlie Gospel•jt John," sums up tlie attacks on thoFourth Gospel as follows: "It has beendiaoovered by the Tubingen critics thatthy- early Christians were distinguishedR,bove all other men for their rascality.I'hey secured unity of belief, but secureditby fraud. True, they reformed morals,they recognized civilization, they guve tothe world a body of truth which the bestjjart of mankind continues to regard asinexpressibly precious; but they accom-plished all this by the use of the basest. iceeit. Among the books which we have

1 rom this time is a gospel which is notable1 or its lofty spirituality; but it is a forg-< tv. Some cunning a&oaSvtt contrivedit, invented its dramatic narrative, in--routed its inimitabledelineations ofchar-:wter, invented the intense loyaltyto thei nuh which is its vital spirit, excogitated•jit<>!'his own brain those traits whichjive to the personality of Jesus an added

charm, and then published the whole tothe world as the work of the disciplewhom Jesus loved. For all theages since the Christian world hasirawii from this gospel much of itsoest spiritual food, but it has fed uponlies; hen gathered from it, too, some ottho most Important precepts for the guid-imv of life, especially the now command-ment of self-sacrificing love (John xv.,U2-17); but this is a pure invention. Tho

post-apostolic age, the middle age, andthe modern age have alike been standingon a rotten foundation, for the harmonyof early Christian belief, the so-calledCatholic faith, on which they rest, wasachieved by an audacious imposture."

Tho Chrintian Leader (Univ.) says:"Professor Hincks ofAndover examinesin detail Dr. Martineau's criticism of theGospels, contained in his last work on'The Seat ofAuthority in Religion,' andeasily convicts 'the angelic doctor' of cap-ital errors. The case against Dr. Martin-eau might be made even stronger thanProfessor Hincks has made it. So longas an assailant of the genuineness of theGospels confines himself to assumptions,inferences from general statements, andcriticism of discrepant testimony in thesynoptics, all goes smoothly with him.But the moment he begins to deal withhistoric facts and to argue from them heis encompassed with dangers. For thetruth is that no one of the several theo-ries, more or less ingenious devised to ac-count for the facts, fits in withhalfofthem.Itcomes to pass that every theorist fur-nishes the means of disproving his owncontention. Dr. Martincau is no excep-tion. He argues no less than four dif-ferent dates for the composition of theGospels; and his argument under thesupposition of one date is utterly de-structive of his reasoning based on an-other date.

"It is apparent that Dr. Martineau,learned and acute as he is, has nevermastered the subject of the Christian evi-dences ; and quite as apparent that hefollows blindly guides who, whatevertheir knowledge, are dominated by a biasfatal to the judicial determination of thoquestion. One who reveres Dr. Martineau,and who has learned to accept him as anauthority in tho highest realms of humanthought, experiences an unwelcomerevulsion as he finds him, in anotherdepartment, a blunderer and a retailer ofthrice-exploded fancies. Prof. Hincks'closing paragraph expresses what webelieve must bo a prevalent, painfulreflection,, that a lofty mind, leaving therealm of truth in which itis at home, andentering new fields and using untriedmethods, may fail to show its best pow-ers, may be taken captive by prejudicemay neglect to give its conclusions thor-ough testing, and may therefore makeassertions not worthy ot its noble fame.' "

Answering to its own question, "Ra-tionalism or Positive Religion; Which?"1 he UmtfarUm #«•»>«• says: "The businessof the former is mainly negative or preua-ratory. The latter includes, it may be aprofounder understandingof some thingswinch rationalism has been apt to over-look, rinse things have in a large meas-ure been hidden from some ofus by sym-bols and veils, some which the criticalunderstanding—-justified in so doing bythe mistaken and even disastrous usemade of them—has been obliged to rendaway, without so much as caring for thepresent, to see what lay beneath. Thatwhich lay so hidden was an element ofhuman life and experience: fundament-ally, when once recogni7.ed for what itis. the most important and significant ele-ment ofall. It is not likelythat a singleone ofthose dogmas—such as the mystery01 the Trinity,atonement, eternal*judg-ment, regeneration, or originul sin—iswithout its counterpart in some phase ofhuman experience,' of profound momenttous Ifwe could onlysee what it reallyis, yet so travestied, disguised and abusedin the theologies of the past, that wo havediscarded it almost angrily, perferrino- tostand under 'the naked heaven,' alone,rather than accept what so aflronts ourbetter conscience. And yet the loss wehare thereby incurred, or are liable to in-cur, is almost infinite, if we would com-prehend something of the deep mysteryofour life."

The Christian Union says: "Againstall doctrines that put any limitation uponthe mercy of God, we believe and teachthat God's mercy is infinite and illimit-able; that it is not limited to any ra^e-nor to any elect; nor to the baptized; norto the believers of any creed; nor to thopossessors of any experience; nor to anyconditions of conduct or character pastpresent, or future; nor to any epoch, age,or men. We believe the teaching oftheBible to be that Jesus Christ manifestsGod, not a part or phase or aspect ot God,but God in his entire moral character;that he is the same yesterday, to-day, andfor ever; and that his mercy endureth forover.

"But universal forgiveness is not thesame sis universal salvation; nor mercyfor all the same as heaven for all. ifwewere t'alvinists of the John Calvin type,if we disbelieved in the freedom of thewill, ifwe believed that the question ofeach soul's salvation, that is, of each in-dividual character, was determined byGod, and by God alone, we should holdand teach Universalism. But we holdthat virtue consists in the voluntarychoice of righteousness by a soul widenis absolutely free to choooe between goodand evil, light and darkness, righteous-ness and sin. God can persuade, can in-ilnenco, can help, but no one, not evenGod, can make the choice for the indi-vidual. He must make it for himself. Hewho believes that allmen willfinally be-come the children of God, must found thisbelief upon the conviction either that Gorlcan decide this issue for every man, orelse that every man will finally decide itas God would have him decide it. Wedistinctly disbelieve the tirst proposition,and we see no adequate ground for be-lieving the second. On the contrary, suchintimations as are afforded by the courseof lifeand by the hintsof Scrfpture, indi-cate that there are intelligent moralbeings who willfinally, definitely, and inspite of all divine influence, reject thegood and choose the evil. So long as theyexist, the divine mercy willstilldesire toreclaim them, but they will be irreclaim-able."

A BLUE KIBBOX.Aribbon of the softest blueThe sweet June sky's most lovely hue,When youth and hope made all things fair—I bought It t<> bind up my huir—To all my life it held the "key.Yet never was It worn by me.

"Myown !my own!" Ithought him then.The handsome, blithe young sailor Ben.His lasf'Rood-by" on leaving shore.His gladdest greeting home once more,Were always mine. Twos with a thoughtOf Irim that ribbon tirst was bought.

My heart beat high. Ialways knewJust when the Bonny Bride was duo."With loot on hind you sail the sea,"Light laughed my cousin Jane at me.Oh, slmllow-hearted, weak and vain,Hut fullofarts was Cousin Jane.

She spied my ribbon fresh and new,She snatched the length ofshining blue,And knotted it. upon her breast,"Itis the shade that suits me best;Oh, let me wear it once," she said.I bit my lip, but bowed my head.When, looking np, within the doorStood Ben, my Ben. at home once more;But, oh, his gaze—why should it be?—Was turned on Jane instead of me!(She'd never looked ko fair before;'Twas that blue ribbon that she wore!

With jealous pang Iknew It then—Forever lost to me was Ben.When Love attempts his wings to try,'Tis vain to stay him; let him ny!But, oh, Iknew I need not mournHad Imyself that ribbon worn!

Well, let it go. Sore Heaven's grace.Xeeds she who is not fairof face.But 'tis its red robe mukew the rose;The garments' chami for beauty goes;And that blue ribbon held the keyOfall my lonely lile for me!—Marian Douglas, in Harper's Bazar.

Largo Bells.Most large bells arc old bells. Although

England has so many bells and chimesthat it lias been call "The RingingIsland," and Belgium's bolls have causedher to be named "the classic land ofbells," yet Russia, perhaps, exceeds allother nations in its fondness for bells,having an immense number of thorn, andmany very large ones. The "King ofBells," the largest one in the world, is inMoscow. It was cast first in 1651, andrecast in 1734. It remained in the pitwhere itwas cast until 18*j, when Nich-olas I. caused it to be raised and placedupon a stone pedestal near the tower ofIvan in theKremlin, where it now stands.Warn England Magazine.

A monster grapevine at Athens, Ga.,which covers more than a quarter of anacre, has been known to produce enoughofgrapes in a single year to make 100 gal-lons of wine. Itwas planted by Profes-sor Rutherford about thirty-two yearsago.

THEOSOPHY.

The Meaning of the TheosophicalMovement.

Faith is Necessary at tho Outset, the

Same as In Other Matters—Pointsfor Those "Who Are Inquiring Into

the Science.

The following, from the pen of ThomasWilliams, Fellow Theosophical Society,Holly Lodge, Eng., may prove of inter-est to those who are seeking informationin regard to theosophy:

It is astonishing to note how few peoplehave a clear notion as to the meaning ofthe theosophical movement. Some lookupon Theosophy as a new dispensationwith Madame Blavatsky as its pope andprophetess. Others again seem to be pos-sessed by the idea that it is a kind ofhanky-panky business for the propoga-tion of insanity and the production ofphenomena. And yet sis a matter of factthis grand old title covers a system ofphilosophy more profound than any nowexisting, anil more subtle than even themetaphysics of modern Gorman thought.But it is not alone to its ideas thatTheosophy owes its pre-eminence, for itis intensely practical, being founded onan intimate knowledge of nature. Mod-ern science viewed through a theosophiclens assumes a beauty and a depth ofmeaning which no lover of knowledgecan afford to lose. But it is not withscience that Theosophy has principally todo, but with lifein all* its varied forms ofmanifestation. And it may with perfecttruth be called "the science" of Life ex-plained by a transcendental idealismWhich may be called the science of Light.This latter term seems probably murevague and poetical than is suited to thepractical tastes of our age, but it is due tothe fact that from a study of the sublimeteachings of a Wisdom-Religion, intowhich theosophieal writings claim toform themselves, we emerge with a dearconception of the existence around usand in us oi'iin ethereal something similarto sunlight, but which is active for usonly as an invisible presence, and whichis aptly called the Light of Conscious-ness.

This all-pervading energy of self-per-ception transforms everything, whetherorganic or inorganic, into conscious ex-istence. To this conception of a universeof light begot ofthe activity ofan infiniteconsciousness may betraeed-tho explana-tion of the word theosophy. It means,accurately translated, "the wisdom of thegods." Every atom and molecule, everyshape and form of earthly life, is therepresentation of a ray of this light oflife which, in them, are personified. Sothat rays of consciousness become im-prisoned in material bodies which thusbecomes potential gods. Theosophy,thi iL'fore, when it tries to unravel themysteries of nature is brought more andmore into contact with these captive es-sences and explains ever more fully theworkings and the wisdom of "the Gods."

Theosophy has often met with an unde-served rebuff from people who mightotherwise have been tempted to study it,through an initial understanding sug-gested by the meaning we attach to theword. Divine wisdom (its literal transla-tion) does not mean the wisdom ofGod inthe sense attached in our day to the term,

I but rather that of the "the gods" accord"j ing to the ideas possessed on the subjectby the Alexandrian school of philosc-Ehers, and this suggests to us either tho

elief in a mythical mythology; or else,if explained, the explanation "seems toofar fetched to be seriously entertained.

; That this latter should seem so is not to! be wondered at, since before we can un-derstand what is meant by "Uil-gods' 1

sufficiently to realize the practical n alityof their existence, we most undertake a

' thorough analysis of the nature of physi-cal and psychic life, and learn how these

j blend in a spiritual union more or Less; latent in every form of matter, eu-• (lowing them with a godlike potmtml-litg. Inthe age offaith which charocter-j ized the rise and decline of Greek ethical

! philosophy, when the word theosophyfirst came into use, the existence of the: gods was an accepted fact: and this blind

| acceptance first vulgarized and then c:i-iirely destroyed the delicate conceptionswhich underlay their ration d'etrr. It isto be hoped that in these days of criti-cism and of reason, no such late awaitsthe revival of these ancyjnt truths, a re-vival which gives them all the added sig-nificance due to our present knowledgeof nature.

Still it must be admitted that faith isnecessary at the outset oftheosophieal in-quiry (an inquiry which rewards the stu-dent with conceptions of life far surpass-ing the dreams of tiie most enthusiasticvotaries of modern science). And this issurely not too much to ask, for many ofus give an unquestioned faith to theoperation of the existence of a personalGod. While even the skeptical are neces-sarily compelled to make use of thisfaculty. For just as no religion can getalong withouta little faith, so no action ineven everyday life can successfully beundertaken unless we have faith in ourpower to carry it out. Therefore, Theoso-phy pleads for that faith which pre-cedes the first act of inquiry. It says:"You need only have enough to carryyou through the work required by astudy of the facts and theories which Ishall present to you, and then ifyouhave used your reason, faith willbecomoknowledge." But these are not the onlydifficulties which Theosophy has to con-tend with; there is one obstacle woveninto the very spirit of the age, and whichpossesses a powerful deterrent influence.Itis the prevailing spirit of monotheism.Ifwe look at life from a materialist's

point of view we feel sure that there isnut one "first Cauae," while TheosophyMenu to talk of many. Ifweaisebeliev-ers in church dogmas, we recognize thopropriety of but one God, whereas herowe have aplurality. We shall in fact putup our hands invirtuoils horror, whetherwo are saint or sinner, a professed fol-lower of the churches or materialism.

This determined monotheism wouldindeed prove filial were it not thatTlioosophy is in strict agreement withthis idea. True, it offers to teach us thowisdom of "the Gods," but it also recog-nizes One, the cause and the Father ofall,before whom it bows in silence, refusingeven to name Him. Here on this distantapex of the universe, both philosopher,materialist and churchman may meet inone common bond of union. For here isthe ultimate idea, which rationalistsarrive at, the One (i<>d which monotheismclaims as the source of all.

WOMAN'S DANGEROUS AGE.Most Fascinating; at Thirty Because

She Uses Her Brains Then.Balzac has said that a woman of thirty

is at her most fascinating and dangerousage, and it is, indeed, true that all thewomen famous for power over the heartsof men, from Cleopatra and Helen down,were nearer forty than twenty when atthe zenith of their power.

Perhaps the secret lies in the simplefact that the woman of twenty must bepleased, while the woman offorty tries toplease, and the elder woman's power con-sists, not, as has been so often said, inunderstanding and making the most ofher own charms, but in comprehendingand with happy tact calling out and mak-ing the most of the good qualities of theman whose favor she seeks.

A man admires a clever woman, but hoenjoys himself better witlia woman whomakes him feel that he is clever. Holik«s being entertained for a littlewhiloby a well-informod woman, but he enjoysmuch l»etu>r the happy taut which makeshim believe that he is entertaining thewell-informed woman, and telling her agrout many things she never dreamed of.And the woman a man likes best is notalways the one who is the most brilliant,but the one who has the happy knack ofdiscovering the subject he talkes best onand is wellenough informed to listen in-telligentlyand draw him out with happyqueries until he in astonished at his«**ubrilliancy.

THE SUNDAY TjyiOX, SACRAMEJJTO, CAL-, FEU RT/AR V 1, 1801.-EIGKHT IMAGES.7