Newspaper of The Chicago Tribune, December 16, 1866, Page 2

Newspaper of The Chicago Tribune dated December 16, 1866 Page 2
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Cljimgo tribune. SUNDAY. DECEMBER 16.- ISM. TSXB VBEE W??BSGE BILL. Ills more than ninety years since the fathers of |tbe Republic, heroically conse crating their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor to the maintenance of their declaration, proclaimed it as a fundamental principle of the Government, that »all men sue created eqnaL. "Their declaration stood. as a lofty idea of justice, hht they were ena ble to give it lull forep and effect. "Nor ha* it yet been altogether carried out a*-a practical measure of government. Tho-work our fathers -so nobly began wilt not be complete, until everywhere within the Jurisdiction ofthe United States,**!! citizens, regardless of nativity, color or complexion, stand as peers before the law, and possess all the rights and franchises contemplated by the exalted principle of political equality. The Thirty-ninth Congress will etand In his tory as the first to embody this great idea la a practical measure ox legislation. Tbe passage of ‘ the free suffrage bill for the District of Colombia Is tbe first ripe fruit gathered from the tree of liberty planted on the -4th of July,' 1776. True It Is that some of the States have adopt ed thff principle, but never before was It embodied in au act of tbe Nations! Govern ment. The passage of that bill, therefore, marks an epoch In- the history of this Na tion, the same In character as tbe Declaration of tbe fathers, tbe emancipation procla mation of Abraham'Lincoln, and the abo lition ol slavery by law,’yet the crown ing glory of all these. Inasmuch as it Is the beginning of a full realization of tbe great principle which lived and breathed through all those measures. ' We say it is the beginning, for the work is by no means complete. Tbe law just' passed embraces but a limited area of the territory under the immediate control of Congress, and Its Importance is not to be gauged by tbe - kwail number of men it enfranchises, but by —lts Inevitable Influence upon *ll fhlnre that wherever Congress has Immediate jurisdiction and control, there universal suf frage sssnrprevan. and there none thill be proscribed because of the color of their sklo. To be consistent with Ibis principle, Con gress must necessarily establish'and put it into practical operation !c all territory not yet erected into States, and in all territory where State governments once existed but hare been vacated by rebellion. - The work of reconstruction must now proceed upon this same basis of justice, or the action ao promptly and nobly taken by the people’s representa tives, will be marred by gross and glaring loconrisieccy. "It matters not whether the apostate of the While House will approve o»* veto this mess nre» The majority it received .in both branches of Congress make Its final adoption jnsias certain as though It had already re ceived the fcignature of Andrew Johnson. He can at most delay it but a few days; and it remains to be seen whether he will so far disregard tbe voice of the people and his own declared opinions as to interpose a veto, by -which ho con only add another odious chapter in the historical imfamy of his Pres idential career. ' GfirrriTßr tspsT and “pud jßiK.vr pnroE*.” The publication of Mr. Rcade’s new novel, O'nJJUh Gau'it, Los provoked a fierce contro- j veray between Llm and some American j journals concerning the morality of that j work. About once In a year we have a perl-, i odkal tit of morality In this country, when j our newspapers, from the mammoth daily ■ to the scven-by-ninc weekly, think it a duty they owe to the rising generation to de nounce “the flood of pernicious, demoraliz ing trash, which, under the name of cheap literature, is deluging our country.” Many and scathing arc the Invectives we have read on thi.s theme by men who bare seemed pro foundly conversant with the works they have decried; and ‘•hrewd, indeed, hare been the arguments for expurgated editions of the •English and the Latin cl a.-ales by men who, after going through « gallery of antiques, and viewing the matchless Apollo, Venus and Laocoon, could come away with Imagina tions impressed only with the remembrance tiat they were naked. It is a delicate aod perplexing question- In some eases, to what extent the eflorts’of these, nice persons should be applauded. That a writer with the fine genius of Mr. Keade can, by de bunching the Imaginations, do incalculable damage to his readers, is but a truism. But shall we therefore proscribe all novels but those tbst contain no descriptions of vice and wickedness, and of which the heroes aod heroines arc models of impossible excel .lence ? To this qucst'oo not a few moralists will reply with an empha«»ioiM. They think lit tle of that 'TugUlvcwJucl.tlritcred virtue,” as MUten calls it Jwlilch, “um-xercised and unbreathed,*’ is kppt luaUby only by .-hoa ning all contact With the real w-tU. That great high-priest of literature and profound av-atomlst of human nature. Dr. JoUnsou, bad, it U certain, no .-uch over-fasridi ius del icacy. not to say squeambliness, la regard to this proecrib-d das-* of writings. He WOs willing to trust people with books that have great faults, provided they have great excel lencies to redeem tnern ; and as for more lia.-h,he knew it would producca surfeit uhich woalcl make it ever alter disgusting. When Mrs. Sheridan's eldest daughter began to give of tha*. love of literature for which she was afterwards distinguished, and nus noticed by Johu«ou one day reading his ** Ibirntdere.” in-r mother hastened lo assure the g: cat moralUt that U wa# only works of that unexceptionable description which ebe raftered to meet the *yes of her little girl. “In genera!,’’added the fastidious mother, csp*;f lire, dual-Ucs'*, to be eulogized tot ho prudence, “I aw very careful to keep from her all such books as are not calculated, by their moral teadenej*, expressly for Ibe pe n:*al of youth.” 44 Then you ere a /ooJ, Modern t” bluntly voeUbniUsd the Doctor. 44 Turn yor.r dauchtcr loose into the library,” cuntiuued be, to the a-tonishmeot uf bU bearer ; 44 if she is well inclluod, she will cliocscrnly nutritious food; if otherwise, all your caution will avail nothing to prevent her loliowjog the beat of her IncU'iatloas.” I’crtiucnUy to this Mihjcct, we notice that the Scotch poet, M**. Biiehmian. has an essay* Jr. the last lif ckir, in which ho maintains that no literary production can be morally deleterious to mm of c» f furf, if it be t-luccro cud real In Its conception—that is, written fro/ti iht hmni, whh the full consent rf all the author’s faculties of belief, T»ic mere quality of thorough and absolute sin cerity of literary purpose diffuses, he thinks. null arm over the writer’s style, and fteepi It iu an altnc?plxrr> of art. which, to « reader able to petceive them, operate practically a? r.-fi-gcard,* cgr.luft every corrupting in3u <ucc. That tbis theory is as true as it is h* genion-' 5 aud original, ia regard to Imagina tive or mtislic pictures of evil actions, few ihrughtful persona can doubu The man who flnd« his Imagination debauched after readier ary ol Shakspeare’s masterpieces, maybe sine that the mischief was already done before lie felt the necromancy of the greet magician of the pen. The picture of Othello never tempted any man lo stifle hU wife in a fit of jealousy; nor did that of l-j- u».wtii «»•* uitpi anv woman who could comprehend U Into unscrupulous am bition firher bnsMnd,; t.or did that of Cleo patra ever fill with sensual feelings a mind that could grasp it Imaginatively, in all Us proportions. True art, as another bos re marked, has the power to transfigure all tbo human passions, dCalrcs, hones, or fears, to the experience of which It appeals. Into ecmctblrg different from ourselves. In spite of oil ibis, however, we,doubt if so sagacious a moralist as Johnson would se riously recommend to any yoang man or woman sneb a novel as Griffith Gaunt. The great objection to the work is not that IU author opologircs for the gai’t of Us hero, a bigamist, by saying that “he was the sport of circumstances,” which might be said of the vilest miscreant thatcrer lived; not that all bis scoundrels go nnwhlpt of Jostlcc, while tbe chief scoundrel is rewarded for his villainy hy receiving alargo fortune; bat that his work deals almost exclusively with the darker passion* of mad—that it lends to sap our belief Jo human virtue, to make os skep tical of Its very existence. Of all the de moralizing works of tbe day, there arc oooc wlilch should be more studiously shunned by the young than those written by cynics—by writers whose dramaiU pertotue are drunk ards, seducers, courtesans, liars, and hypo ed too—whose heroes are men of “one virtue, linked to a thousand Crimea”—who aim to anatomize the human heart, that they may show how black and foul U is—who display a lynx-eyed acuteness in detecting the vilest motives for tbe noblest actions—who reek and riot In revelations pf domestic sin and shame. “ Ae if It were a pleasant thing to find The racer stumbling, and the gaze-hound blind. It is in vain that Mr. Readc, in reply to the charge of impurity, cries “XTonf sett gul j>udy and'dcnounces his critics aa “prurient prudes.” Mock delicacy—that prudery which betrays its lack of the reality of virtue by Its nlccnesa about the shadow —which sbhors plain noun-substantives, and tries to hide Us improper Imagining* In studied circumlocution—which, wfaena word is used that bos l»o meanings, is sensitively conscious of the worst one, and is aa deeply shocked as if the better one could never be intended—which leads young ladles lopanta- Ictte tbe legs of their pianos, and to throw a veil over marble Cupids and Psyches—that spurious feeling which led Swift to define a nice man as “a man of nasty Ideas”—we detest as thoroughly as Mr. Readc. But to eay that every mao who denounces Impurity in a poem or novel, Is conscious of Imparity lu his own thought*, and reads Ihe-work, to quote Mr. R.'a owuworda, “by the light i f -biaoiiriifodllxnaglcatlou,” Ualmply absurd. Parity can detect tb« pre-cac© of the evil wb'ch It docs not understand, andTJf which It is wholly void, just aa tho dove which has never seen a hawk trembles *1 its presence. Just as a horse rears uneasily and quivers when the wild beast, unknown and new, is near, so innocencff is startled by, yet understands not, (he unholy look, the guilty tone, the impure suggestion. “It shudders, and shrinks Irom it insttactlvely, by a power like that which God has con* ferred on (ho' unreasoning mltaosa-”- The great objection to Mr. Readers work is not that be openly excuses bigamists, 'seducers, and other miscreant*—not that we can here and there'select a proposition formally false and pernicious; but leaves an im prution unfavorable to a healthful state of thought and feeling, and whlch'ls peculiarly dangerous to the young and Inexperienced, who swallow without suspicion the insidious poison that lurks under the hone/ed words of the elegant and philosophical; apologist for vice. Mr. R.’a brilliant creations are, as Professor Friable said of Byron’s, '“the scene of a summer evening, where all is tea* der, and beautiful, and grand; but the damps of disease descend with the dews of Heaven, and the pestilent vapors of night are breathed in with the fragrance and the balm, and the delicate and the fair are the surest victims of the exposure.” We cannot leave this subject without ex. pressing a doubt which has arisen in our minds touching the tendency of mlnale.criti cisms—eveu denunciatory criticisms—of such books as Griffith Gaunt. Concerning many cases of wrong-doing, so much pains ' have sometimes been taken to show people the way not to be naughty, that they have ‘been thereby, for the very first time ioltheir lives, taught how, and - tempted to te so. Especially docs this hold true, of moral reform societies, denunciations of Im moral books aod,-U' jjlrical performances, and publication portray the frightful increase arid terrible of Hceutlonsagsa ln a community'.’ IJcatloDs operate. In many cases, only fjcr posl* and adveritfeituiti fhuJe Whose fervid passions, notw/’-Jistfl’.KUng their pres ent purity and Innocent, ore hat too ready to be fanned, by the slightest sogcestlon,' into a violent and uncontrollable flame ; and to the writer who, like Jaques in At Tom Like if, would thus, by “speaking hla mind”— ■ “throm*b and throag’h Cleanse tie fool body or tho Infected world.'* ■we may aay with iho Duke: “Fie on lice! I can tell what thou wojldet do.— Jtoit siriseJttftwt/oui nn in cJtldirg aia.” 'When’William Pitt wag Prime Minister of England, a bill was passed for the preven tion of smuggling, prohibiting boats of a cer tain length of keel, breadth of beam, draught of water, etc., from being built by any subject of King George. The model prohibited was so exquisitely fine—of such matchless pro* portions—that all the smugglers at ones adopted It. and had their craft constructed in French ports exactly according to the measures forbidden by the statute; and the Deal boatmen used to say that they never knew how to bniid a boat for smuggling tai JHUy PUt taught them the isag. Ihe ancc* dote -forcibly illustrates the pernicious (-fleets upon the morals of society mulling from even welHntended pub lications, denouncing immoral books, or themrclvcs abounding in eloquent acd slowing descriptions of the va rious forms of vice and wickedness In its midst. A still further confirmation of j oar views Is found in a ftet stated some '• years ago by an English paper, that certain j nitidis in the London Corning Chronicle had the effect cf Inspiring hundreds with anlr- j rrsLtiblc desire to live themselves the strange and peculiar modes of life so minute- j ly depleted by the writer. It may he ques tioned whether Be Quluccy’s vivid and mas terly descriptions of the ddlghtsand horrors of opium eating have not attracted more per sona 10, thantherkave frightened from, the I practice. We never read an Impasssloncd ! dchortation fiom this and kindred vices— above al! t those of licentiousness—but we | think of tho hostler, who was asked on con • fereion day by lih> priest, if he had never ! greased the teeth of Lis guests’ horses, to ! prevent them from caliug their allowance of '• hay fliul cats? "Never!* 1 prompt • response. Subsequently, he confessed the 1 frequent perpetration of the trick. “How!” i exclaimed the astonished father, “I thought ' yon told me, at your last confession, that : you had cover played that trick.” “True, nor had I we*> the reply, “ for, till you told tue, I never knew ibat greanng a ' UUh zrvtildpr<tvr<t his faUu<l." GO.»l*l2U.VX<Vfe Zi.UIOB, In the science of y.ouflcel ccori Mny it has been uniformly slated that it j gains of pro duction arc distnlvutvu nvlutv.'.ly between labor, capital and land. Capita 1 , tucciviug Its share in the form *>f profits, land Its tjhuteiurcnt.aodlabQr Us finite lulLf lor m, of wages. It Las hitherto b£*n adiuiu l l*> all the writers on |>olltlcal economy, tbx. labor is by natural law entitled only to so bw:-i wane* us urc fixed by supply nud dcnuirl, s'Uvi In i o cafA.* can *t claim any share, of th \ unt v-Meh goes lo the land,or of the profits v. liir-u belong to capital. The result of tha working of tho associations for co-operation, which have sprung np lately in lb's and otbnr countries,and which have hccnaltemlcdwlth j remarkable success, has been to throw . doubt oh the soundness of the heretofore generally accepted principles of political 1 economy; and It Is now claimed In behalf of i labor that its compensation should bo more than the rale of wages as fixed by tho law of supply and demand, and that It I* justly entitled to a portion of the profits w ..Ich have hitherto gone wholly to capital. The linn. N. P. Banks has taken this position Ja an address lately delivered by him ut thaui, Massachusetts. He asserts it to be the duly of the State io establish the (act that labor la capital, and that the rule of com , pensatlou lor labor is not a rate of wages de termined by the supply and demand, but an equitable divUioa of profits, lie says further: “There Is c:Uita-; more insoand'er mors ntro liout ibsu the maatoi ll>at labor I? to I.j rc-g.iinttil uj em »te .aw of sapely aud cco-;:-!. Where in* lerttc. jiecqnal ihelaw ol supply .md ddMao 1 U t aud cprkesbli*, iu U»C file of mo ; rhuuit#e or premia. If l>riJ proac. ty, (hr buT* l crandscllcrao upon fooling. hachlsgor* j cmed ly avdftn io’lqw his Itu-rcsu If the own- I vr were at all inaef compelled to sell, aud (he pur* . rtatfrat liberty ro buy or But, itxrojid ucuo ( 4o« err lesu Tfcst In the puritiou which oe- : uui ka in cectud lo cap.uti. CoplUl 1* accauj.x’.a* .lent— ni.-iijf. it Is pnarciort a« accuu)uUuon ned ru-i’lwi. It cju tcicruilt. .trull vim small profit or »iw >\it v .oat prorh. U is < clf-«npper ii c. With labor u is diff-rcat, Ihc indtuixj cf the xct'.d could out niaiuuia it* ic i a vtcglc day without cnqilovto-j-.t. It starves, it tuer. where uap.tal cxt»u>, tU'ivfiS, and «vjn ' re-n-dnres ludt Ihii istberea-oo unf«:nW sic failures. Whenever they succeed ill* owhc : totVegood sense and nut tu the ticceirinct of . apilsl. To say. Li en, that<* of pros* iwrily are upon equal moling, aun that wich any or should be left to take cite of inelf. a.* ■ he* other, la anomtrouj injustice and nbiUrdit/. 4 ' The history of labor Is a talc of oppression «nd degradation. The laborer was always a r-iavc until within a few centuries, and as inch entitled to nothing from hU employer, not even wages. Since his emancipation the laborer has been allowed wages, but capital ba« always fixed the rate of wages at the lowest possible price at which the laborer could live. The object and result of the new-founded Co-operative Societies Is to provide for the laborer silU more compansa tiou, os they secure to him besides his wages, a share in the profits of capital. It Is impossible to foresee the consequences of ruth an extraordiuary change in the condi tion and prospects of the workingman ; bnt : here is in it a premise of increasing prosper ity end elevation to the wh“le laboring clafp, greater than any that has heretofore taken place in their history. Tbe change was immense when the laborer ceased to be a slave, ami coaid claim wages ; it is still greater when besides his claim to wages he also receives a share In the profits of capital. Significant of the spread of the new ideas of co-operation, and the strong hold they lake of men of thought, is the late action of the Emperor of the French. The great dis tress among the silk wearers of Lyons has led,to the suggestion of rarioos plans for their relief, bnt the one most likely to be adopted Is that of a cooperative associa tion, which has been accepted by Sapo- Icon, and who has premised to support it by a certain amount from the pu bile treasury. This action of the French Emperor has excited great attention and astonishment, and while regarded from some quarters with no little olstrust and alarm, from others It is hailed as proof of isrc sagacity, and extraordinary understand ing of the social condition and wants of the people. Says the 'Spectator* the able and well-knownEngll*hjournal: “The Empe “ ror docs not give tbcLyonese a stone when “ they are clamoring for bread, he sends “ them an idea.' To him, as to all far-seeing “ men, it Is clear that the ultimate reeoncil “ lation between labor and capital most come “from their onion In co-operative societies, “ and be will accelerate the junction. What* “ ever the fate of the co-operative principle “In England, It U quite clear that it salts “ France, which indeed is a great State “ chiefly because in politics its people have “been struggling blindly for a century “ towards co-operation—/irafamifa, their “ grandfathers called it, thcy*kllled “ Abel In order that Cain and Seth might “ have space to work lovingly together. “ The Emperor, In calling on the Lyonese to “ work out that system fully, does but take “ the lead in the direction to which .the na “ tional genius is inclined, does bnt ariicu “ lately advise that which working France “ inarticulately desires.” IST The Legislature of Georgia has passed a stay law over the veto of tbe Governor, by a two-thirds vote. The Mississippi stay law fell through; for although it was asserted in the papers that the Governor had approved the bill, he vetoed it, on tho groaod of Us uDcunstitutloaality, and the Legislature tolled to pass it over his head- IWINTEE AMUSEMENTS. Social, Musical, Operatic and Dramatic. Tbe Bateman Concert*—Tbe Approach* leg OpcraSeawm—The PbUliarmoale Society—mule Abroad—Paris Slkod«> solate— Bistort* Isnclo has painted aqdtinre, called “Tbe Poor Widow’* Removal,” In which an Inflnn old woman, deserted by the Penates, is hnstled out of ht-uso and home Into the bleak and dreary winter weather. Trudging wearily along, dragging a hand-cart snd fol lowed by two cold and crying little cues, tbe 'scene either suggests'or ‘was Tuggcatcd by the Unos, >. . • “Ttie melaoebolr days—the raddeit of the year. Of wallmg mndi and naked woods and mead ’ o«s brown and sere.” . Israel© never lived In Chicago or he Would not have thought of painting such a picture. Wc have winds, particularly lake winds. Scarcely a stranger visits ns, who does not' go away Impressed with the Idea that opr. lake breeze, whether In winter or summer, is a great institution. Chicagoans are apt to boast ofli. Strangers are apt to perceive it themselves, suddenly In hot weather, and steadily in cold weather. “Naked woods” and “meadows brown and sere” do not abound in this locality, and though, since the war, there arc widows among ns, we never tarn them oat of doors. It is said that missionaries to Greenland dare not preach firo and brimstone in their, descriptions oi the horrors of another world, from fear that the Inhabitants, tortured by cold, should persistently take - the shortest and speediest course to reach a place where fuel is so abundant. . ~ The cold wcathrr, cruel In other climates and to other people, brings' ns cheer and comfort. It Is the time of thanksgiving and festival, and wc greet It right gladly. We provide for our poor, and having seenrod them comfort proceed to amuse ourselves. With winter upon us in earnest we throw open our skating parks, begin our musical season, have greater attractions at the thea tres, and prepare to enjoy tbe good, long evenings. Now skating, now falling, now dancing, now gossiping, now telling stories around the fire ttf the accompaniment of boiled elder and roast chestnut*. Music at the parks, music at the opera, music at homo, music in the sleigh bells, music in loving voices. Warm mufflers and rosy cheeks, bracing air and Jolly people. Such is our winter. It ta a time of late dinners and good ones, with roast turkeys and venison. It is a time when everybody is in a good humor, who la liable to be in a good humor at auy time. It Is a time when work Is desirable la order to keep warm, when play Is natural, when eve rybody Is thankful for what he has. If not. envious for what ht has not. The new year comes in bright and blooming. Tbe dead pact buries its dead, and tbe future Is gilded with good resolutions. Winter Is the Sunday of the year. As to MUSIC We are already assured our proportion, which in kind, as well as degree, promises to be all that the fastidious taste of Chicago could demand. Find, we are to have the Bateman concerts. No set of artists were ever grouped together for a concert tour. La this country at least, with a greater aiaoaot of ialcnt. No troupe was ever managed by an Imprcssario more liberal and enterpris ing. It was Bateman who first pave us Po repa. It was Bateman, who, discouraged last year by the small success of his tour In a financial way, determined toimprove ami en large his company and try It again. Those, v. !m'u. re already know, ate known favora bly. Brigcoll, lionized for years In this country, hissed In Spain, and railed the ** frilve:-voiced” In London, would be at tractive enough in bhnedf to till the bouse for three concerts. Parepc, whoso genial ro tundity of physique contrasts pleasantly with the uouclnly hateur of the tenor, with a voice like a seraph, has by one appearance among n§. secured for herself the enduring favor of a Chicago public. Mr. Mills, the pianist, U not generally known to the as yet, from the fact that he has heretofore, se cluded himself in New York, but he will soon ! be recognized os tho leading pianist among 1 Americans, after Hoflman. Mr. Mills is a S thorough mublclan, theoretically and prac- I tlcolly. He loves his art, In which his genius . enables him to excel. All tho other artists i come to us with the highest encomiums from | the critics, ft is only to be regretted that I the troupe do not remain long enough. But then we are to be consoled by fifteen nights of opera. Perhaps U will not be all, in point of talent, that could bo wished—few opera troupes are—but it will be opera, and a season of it, wblcb we haro not had since last yesr. The repertoire , at all event-*, is extensive and varied, and there win be ex eillcucfeneuough to compensate far (ho d.- fu‘tf. which the dUhlaeK never full to dls e.t-ver. It is noticeable that iho»e who enjoy imifelc most criticise the least, unlc -a there Is Mirnettlug positively bsish and grating to tl.crar. TLo enjoyment of the moment is toonhi-nrbnig to admit ol analysis. We glad ly herald the advent of tq*cr.», and predict a sucecs.-ml fcciiton. Then tbo Pbllharm'mic, after all Its trials iir.d !rib;:lutioas tbis snason, will fill tbfi reg ular programme announced* Our Chicago riu-lic n:iift rot merit tbc frequent Imputa* urns of thf Eastern cities, that a want of rutluro In liie West precludes an adequate support to music of the higher order. The ■philharmonic couccrU are strictly classical Mia have always becu largely attended. Tboic is every reason why Ibis attendance : bi*u;d be kept up. There Is no reason why it should be Inferred that there Is a llact of attraction on account of tbclr :bm g homo concerts, participated la .icii’ndy by Lome talent, while this of iiH’lf affords s good reason for tbo best possible encouragement. New : Ji ik, this season, is giving more attention -ti.J better supj’oit than ever before to or. gnekalioa?,’ which conOnc themselves to rm.dv.riiig clusVical imislc. Mollenhaner, 'I buna?, and lh:- CcclUan Choir are all gtthc cnnccr-Is of an Intensely classical cturarU-r. while Sunday nights are taken up with < intorlcs. .SobiehiMDabicaud popular [ is this kind oi music, at present, ami so ex* j cellcnt, as a general thing, is the rendition, ; that Maretzeh** opera troupe suffers by the I contrast, and Winter Carden, though newly i decorated (or the opera season, falls to draw bouses which \!c*d any profit to the mana ger*’. The “ Ungacnots” was produced In Mich a in sinner as to call forth tbo severest exit‘cal censure, which certainly caouol be attributed so much to any faults on the part of the coinyany. which la well known to com* prbe many of the best artists in the umn* try, nor to the management of Maretzek, is universally ackiJowledgcd to be rai.t uproiTte ns a manager, as to the taste of Hie people at*the present time, which in* dines In another direction. It is the fashion to protect and patronize the classical con cert* The winter abroad Is to be celebrated by tbc production of several new Optra. The CTirt'ifiVr dc la Table Motuie will shortly be produced In Peris. A German U writing an opera on “ The Last Days of Pompeii.” A French opera, founded on the story of Jciinrt d* Are, is announced, and Liszt, the •rMe, the retired, U about to appear before a Pariblcn audience end superintend the pro ductlcn of hi* new oratorio, Christ. But Paris la disconsolate. Paris weeps- Palis wrings its bauds In very despair. From tbc fashionable A’awdourg St. Germain to the facile (‘tfurJifr Latin, from the JtuedeKont. n.airc to tbe J!ouJ*vard d«* JtaJient, there comes e wall of woo from genSQhomme and oumVr, who refuse to be consoled. Theresa Is sick. Theresa has some trouble with her threat, which forces her to retire—that throat, which has delighted Paris from gut ter to palace. The cafe cAonfoaf, with Its smoke and beer, Its vast and heterogeneous audiences, Its abandon. Its free and easy dame*, lis dense and stifling atmosphere, may possibly cease to be attractive, now that Theresa is virtually no more. The coarse and vulgar phytiqae, the coarse and vulgar voice, tbo coarse ' and vul gar songs, of tbe Parialcn Goddess, will be seen and heard so more In the fashionable talap* of the mo»dr. Emperor* and rich bankers must now content them selves with Patti, or Lucca, or some other legitimate and lady artist. For It Is simply Impossible to expect In nature another such exaggerated personification of vulgarity. All else will be tame in comparison, and an Idol must be constructed of different mate rial. ~ Aa to tub suasu, m»l muy «a ocp-ct for tho holld., season? We Infer from the .y®* nouncemeuts are withheld, that som«l' brilliant will flash upon ns. It must be that managers bare a carp rise in store for us. With something novel, they expect to pre sent a successfully rival attraction to the musical entertainments of which We have al ready been informed, Rivalry Is highly de sirable in public amusements. It always re sults In the gratification of the public, if not in the interest of managers. Bnt without any Idea of what wc shall hare, wc hope for the good, old, holiday burlesque or extrava ganza, in which giants and dwarfs, beauties and beasts, ghonls and fairies abound. Where forests are suddenly changed Into palaces, and just as pale famine makes it appearance, there springs up from some unknown locality an enchanted table, covered with delicious viands,* Wc are not surfeited with burlesques in this country, which Is tbe case with our English cousins. However much our critics may deplore the sensational tendency of the stage productions. It is a fact that wc yet retain more of the legitimate drama than any other people. ]n London there are several theatres, in which burlesque is given tho year round. Extravagance of situation and effect forms the great attraction, which dazzle almost completely tbe sterling comedy. We can appreciate and enjoy the extravaganza for tbe holiday season. Jt Is appro riate. It delights >(he young folks, who dream of it all the rest of tbe year. It Is all ao ab«cla?vly Improbable, that it da lights the old fblks and revivestherecollec tloa pf happy days long past and gone for* ever save in remlnlsence. The burlesque by all means Ibr tho holidays. * _■ fa KeW York, extensive preparations are being made by the managers for those jolly entertainment*. A new piece, called the “ CcndrillbW,” and described as being part burlesque, part ballet, operatic and dramat ic, with a vast quantity of very bardsomc young ladles, an elaborate display of eostly scenery, startling situations, «fcc., is an nounced a* a counter attraction to. tbe splendidly Indecent “ Black Crook.” Wal lack’s reappearance,.after a long Indisposi tion, Is as good as a new play. But bo reap pears in a new play, too, which is called “Central Park, or the House with Two doors,” and said to he very funny. George Sihrdan, who never succeeded in making a reputation In London, not even ah&done, is engaged to appear la New York once more. The piquant Olive Logan, sprightly despite her size, has taken to the French style In a play of her own composition, while her sister Celia plays in Olive’s dramatiza- lion of Armadale.. Messrs. Bouse <$ Readc, (nephew of the redoubtable Charles), have come to New York with Charles* own dra matization of Griffith Gaunt. But In this instance, Griffith comes the day after the fair. Boston managers had a choice between seven different versions of the notorious talc of jealousy. Steam does not propel fast enough now-a-d&ys, and if Mr. Rcade has an other occasion to send a dramatization of a new book, he must use the cable. Daly completed his version in three days after tbe appearance of the novel; and a shocking thing it is, too, having about as much resem blance to Griffith Gaunt as to the Ticar of Wakefield. - Ristori continues to bo the great attraction of the season. Though more people can be found to admire the “Black Crook” than tbe Italian woman’s rendition of Lady Mac beth and Marr Stuart, the Intellect of tbe who’* country is on the gui tier to sec Rla tori. No definitoannouncemcutbasyet been made for her In the West,, but wc believe there is no longer any doubt that wc, shall see Ler this winter on the boards of oar Opera House. THOUGHTS 0» HISTOBT—IT, Raying* or Great flea, &e, Bacon, in one of bis weighty essays, after remarking that truth is a naked and open day-light, that doth cot show the masks and mummeries, and triumphs of the world, half so stately and daintily as candle-lights, adds that “a mixture of a 110 doth ever add pleasure.” Whatever tho cause, there is something wondcrfhl ia the fascination and tenacity <»f falsehood, it Is a trite proverb that h lie will travel round the world‘while Truth is patting on its boots. Bat this is not m) astonishing as the vitality—the! inex plicable vlcor of constitution—in a popular error. When the world has once got hold of n He, It Is marvellous bow hard it is to drive out i f the world. Yon beat it about the li*«d till it items utterly defunct, and lo! just ns yen are begianlngto flatter yourself that It has given up the'ghost, tt reappears, a? healthy and thrifty as ever. It Is a popu lar belief that Truth, If run over by »loco motive and train, gets well; but Error dies of lockjaw If It but scratches Us finger. Bry ant, too, asserts, that “Truth, crashed to earth, will rise again and, no doubt, It often docs; but 11 Is equally true, in spite of all the rhetorical flourishes on this sub ject, that lies, too. have a most obstinate vi tality, end. like all noxious things, arc de stroyed in one place only to spring no In another. Once let a falsehood, however ridiculous, gel fairly on iU legs, and though, when touched by the Ithoriel spear of Truth, It ——“V/iUbe tu pstn. And die cm id Us worshippers.” yet it Is certain ol a resurrection. To the philosopher there Is something exasperating in this; to the satirist, there Is an object for tils shafts. Once declare to the world that Berkeley denied the existence of matter, and all over the world men with Berkeley In their hands will echo the absurdity. Say that Locke derives all knowledge through the medium of the senses, and, though Locke be studied In every college, the statement will pass un challenged. Let some Fourth of July orator quote from Bacon the hackneyed sentiment, “Knowledge Is power,” and other orators will ring the changes upon it ad wxwam, though Bulwer shows that the author of the 2n*Utvratlo never uttered or wrote aay such aphorh-m. Of all truisms, or sayings sup l-OFt'd to be such, there is no one more fre quently on men's Ups than the statement that Bacon was the father of the Inductive PUtoMjpby, the grand founder of modern -cirrce. But It may be doubted whether bis N~bram Orponon, or new Instrument of phP ofophy, was really new when he announced it as such, either as a process followed in scientific discovery, or os a theory of the true method of discovery. Bacon was neither the first to proclaim the barrenness o( tho Aristotelian philosophy, nor ■s bis p the glory of hav ing ended the reign of that philosophy In Europe. Ec but hustcued the downfall of i system already In disrepute, and which would soon have been banished from tbo -choola had hi« inplauration never been pub ’bhrd. In short, as Dc Maistre lus shown, was a barometer that announced the fir •father, after a long period of storm and rontroversy ; and because he fontoll the glo mus daylight of true science, af;ci the, dark s« of tbo middle ages, he was proclaimed he author of it. Acotcmporary called him ruly the prop?**/o/eeience. “I have seen,” ays the critic just quoted, 44 the design of a acdal struck In his honor, the body of which sa ruing sun, with the Inscription, Eioriu* iti athr. in* toi (“He rose like the sun In the .-ky.’; Nothing l< more plainly false. Bet ter an aurora, with the Inscription, .Vuacio •oiis Metsei-gcr of ilsesnn,’) aud even this would be an exaggeration, for, when Bacon v»e, it was at least ten o’clock In the mom- How often do we bear attributed to Sir Koberi Walpole tbo execrable saying, '’Ail men have tbvlr price.” Pope refers to It In tbt* lines; _ 44 Would he oblige mr, lei toe only find lie does un tr.lul. mcwliathc mint* mankind.” But the “Grand Corrupter,” as he wssnick uexned by bis libellers, uttered no such sweeping slander against his fellow men. Ho simply declared of his- cor* rupt opjameots, “All thtse men have their price,” a truth os unquestionable as his alleged maxim was false. Again, let Lord Oircry relate, as an unquestionable occur* recce, that Dean Swift once commcuccd the service when nobody, except the clerk, at* tended his church, with “Dearly beloved Roger, the scripture moveth you aud me In sundry places,” and the scandal will be again and again repeated, though a kinsman of the Dean has shown that it was published of another person In a jest-book before Swift was born. The author of “The Tale of a Tub” and “The Battle of the Books,” was not so destitute of originality as to have to borrow a Joke as paltry as it was profane. So Swift and Butler will forever continue, we suppose, to divide the honors of the closing couplet of the epigram on the feud between Handel and Bononclnl— **Strance all this difference shonfd be iweedledma acd Tcreedledec,'' though neither of these wits was tbe anthor, who was Dr. Byrom, of Manchester. As “to him that bath shall be given,” that arch wit, Butler, will of course continue, so long as tbc world is infested with rascals, to have the credit of Trnmbull’s sarcasm on the To ries of the American revolution: “Ko mao e'er Celt the halter draw With good opinion of tbe law. So many historic sayings have never been uttered by the great men to whom they hare been attributed, that wc shall expect goon to hear that Cesar’s “ Ten* rid* rid ” is a myth; that Perry never wrote the immortal words, We have net the enemy, and they are ours;” while Lawrence’s “Don’t give up the ship” will be declared an old sail or’s yam. Indeed, Kapoleon, who under rated the military skill of the “foremost man of all the world/’ ridiculed aa absurd that other saying of the great Julios, “What do you fear? Ton carry Cesar.”. Bui not only the mot* of great personages, bnt many of the most striking facts of history— scene: and incidents which arilsts hare been food of depicting, and orators of citings have been proved to be pare fiction. The story of William Tell and the apple, and that of Xerxes flogging the Hellespont, have been shown to be pore myths, and “ Tell himself has been grndginglyallowed a commonplace 1 share In the exploits of the early Swiss pa triots.” historical tableau has been more deeply Imprc£? ed on the public mind than the parting of Loads XVI iruS bis fam ily ? The scene had been described in prose ' and verse, and represented In pictures of all sizes, yet never occurred I It Is true the Queen wished, with the children, to fee the King on the morning of the execu tion, and he consented; bnt be subsequent ly requested that they might not be per mitted to return, as their presence too deep ly affected him. Again, how often do ire hear it stated, In private, and echoed from the that the skeptic. Home, died In an agony of remorse, although bis CArtt tian biographer declares that his last moments were as peaceful and ro ruffled as • the gentle Addison’s, and though some of Hume’s more intelli gent enemies have asserted that he affected an indifference which he did not feci. What Napoleon-worshlppingdlsclplc of Headley or Abbott ever dreams of doubting that the hereof Lodi and Anstcriil* really did scale the Alps on a fiery, high-mettled charger, as foufnatz as David has painted him ? Dot let ns hear the great Corsican Mmtelf: “The Fl at Cczuul mounted, at the worst part ol the accent, the m«to of an Inhabit mt of St. Peter, selected by the prior of the convent a* the enreat-footed mole of that country.” Soch is the difference between reality and painting, truth and declamation. Again and baa Ik been denied by historical crilica that the Russians bnroed Moscow to prevent Napoleon from making it bis winter quartern; and in vain do they assert what ALr. Douglas, at one time our minister to 'Ros«ta, baa confirmed, that hardly more than the suburbs, where the French were quartered, were on fire, to cover the Russian attack. Mad ills and other showmen still renew the in/andum dotorm of the “confla gration and-panoramas'. So long as biography is written, or an es* sayeat lorea to point his moral wltb’an anec dote, we shall hear the story of Newton and his dog Diamond, which destroyed the papers which the philosopher set himself so patiently to re-write—albeit the. dog was a myth, and neither purring puss nor spright ly poodle were allowed within the precincts of the mathematician's thought-tallowed rooms. Rut the apple—the falling of the apple f Surely, the lynx-eyed critics of hU tory, who have cheated us out of so many pleasing Illusions, will not rob us of thal t In one sense, It is of little consequence whether the story be true or false. Unless observed by a mind already so prepared to make the discovery that any falling body would have stalled the proper train of ideas, the falling of ten thomaod apples could have led to oo discovery of gravitation. Bnt what are the fuefe f We have, for the story, the authority of several of Newton’s friends, and the opinion ofil. Riot, the-eminent French savant, after a scrutiny of all the facts In the case; yet, eir David Brewster, Newton’s latest biographer, who In the first edition ot his work, declared bis disbelief of the story, sticks still to bis Incredulity ; and rhetor icians must still refer with as little confi dence as eloquent effect to “ Newton and the falling apple.” Bnt volumes might he filled with the er rors that, again and again exploded, have obtained a new lease of life, and arc thriv ing as vigorously as ever. We will notice but one more, lest, the reader, Instead of thanking, may chide us for disenchanting him In regard to what have been called the mock pearls of history, and exclaim with Horae e’a crazy citizen of Argos, after he had been cured by hellebore bfhto hallucina tions : I hit to ear# me? Better far have died. Th*a Ujnof pleasare so rcSced, Tbs dear delusion of-a raptured mind. 11 Perhaps the beat example of the vitality of a popular fallacy is the overhackoeyed piece of nonsense attributed to Archimedes, that, “give him a place to fix a prop for his lever, and he would move the world.'. This is one of the standard allusions, a part of the nccessarry stock In trade, of all orators, poets, and newspaper writers; and persons, whenever they meet with it, tblukof Archi medes as an extraordinarily great man—a giant of the intellectual giants—and cry, “Really, bow wonderful." Now, it is a well known principle of me. ehanical forces that the velocities are to the extremities of a lever reciprocally as the weights of the two powers, and the lengths of the arms directly as those samevelocl tic*. So it has been shown that If, at the moment when Archimedes altered bis mem*, orablc saying, God had taken him at bis word by furnishing him with place, prop and lever, together with a counter-weight of two hundred pounds—the poird d'oppui being at , three thousand leagues from the centre of the earth—the great geometer would have required a lover of twelve quadrillion* of miles long, and a velocity at the extremity of the lou-f arm equal to that of a cannon ball, to raise the earth one inch la twenty seven hundred thousand thousand millions, or twenty seven billions of years! Yet will this exposure of the colloasal absurdity bo of any use? Of not the slightest. Orators will continue to employ this bravara of -rhetoric, and persons will continue to gape will} astonishment at the boast of Archi medes, as ever. Mogna ai Miupidiiaa, d pre tolelit. FROM WASHINGTON. Tke Surratt Vase said Correspon dence. NOTES OS SO3XE SALIENT POINTS. Tbo View* of Sir Setrard’s ■luaal Critics. (From Oar Own^orrcspoudcut-i WAsuixotoa, December 13,1D06, Tlic SurraltcorrcspondencefanjitlicJ from :bc stale Department yesterday makes tblr* tj*four document papa of print. A good many'members of Coegress believe that Mr. Sewafd Las kept back turae of Cue most im jMrtaut papers bearing upon tbc matter; : and the; point to a couple of letters from i iilia to Mr. KoproseotutiTtf WlUou, chairman <>f the House Investigating Coimuitlec, as evidence sustaining their belle/. Mr. So*?* urd, in his oflicial capacity, writes to Mr. Wl’eon, in b!s official capacity, and says the State Department has nothing relative to the assassination conspirators; and, oa the time «la>. May 22,1 W. writes him a private note saying that be has a great deal of informs, lion about John H. Surratt, but do-'sn’t deem it best to make It public! Query: Is an official lie less sinlbl than a private He ? And, surely enough, it is now shown that the Department did have considerable tutor* taaiior at that time about Surratt. It ap •.cars that be has been under surveillance since September ISO 2. The Department seems to have had some doubt as to the identity of tho watched person, though its agents were positive from the beginning that it was Surratt. While I myself have strong confidence :hat the Government Is sincere m Its Implied declaration that it bad an ever-present desire to catch this wretch, I cannot omit to chron icle the fuel that many poisons profess to be lieve that the late apparent seal of the State Department is wholly due to the expression of opinion by Congress, and especially by the House, during the Utter part of last session. * The published correspondence show's that Minister Adams was exceedingly lukewarm in the matter a year ago last fall wbcu Surratt was in Liverpool,and It U ques tioned whether be did not then represent the spirit of the State Department. The docu ments also show that the War Department, about that time, directly advised against the arrest of tbc suspected person. It U held bat these facts furnish strong pre sumptive evidence that the ~ Pres ident was willing he should escape. A point is also made against Mr. Seward because it was necessary, as late as two 1 months ago, to send Surratt's picture to Minister King, at Rome. It was known fourteen months ago that the conspirator had gone to Europe. The first thing to do as soon as continuation to this effect was re ceived, say Mr. Seward's critics, was to send his photograph to every diplomatic agsot on the continent and in Great Britain, so that the identity of any suspected man might be at once established. Tbe most In* efficient police officer, it is asserted, could not have done less. However, it is easy enongb to find fault, and In this ease there is ample opportunity. Possibly the cor respondence that so many persons believe Is withheld would do something toward reliev ing the Administration from the charge of snplneness in the matter for a whole year alter tbc assassination took place. One can’t help seeing In Surratt's case another Illustration of tho fact that great criminals are invariably careless in small matters, and thereby frequently famish tbc cine which leads to their arrest. Ho got out of the United States, be kept secreted for several months In Canada, he was lost to general human knowledge for half a year, | and then practically reveals himself to a chance acquaintance and fellow.passcngcr ou tbe steamer from Montreal to Quebec. Tbe most ordinary prudence, it would seem, ought to have avoided such stupidity. Then again, after escaping from this country, after escaping from England, after getting into the Papal service, be meets a man who knows him, who kcew him in Maryland and Washington—he learns that this man knows him, and not only doesn’t attempt to get out of tbe way, but actually, from time to time, puts him is possession of very material facts regarding the conspiracy and the assassination. And this U not the poor dolt, Ned Spangler, nor tbe good-natured 1001, Harrold, bat the keen, sharp, shrewd John n. Surratt. Sorely, crime must Wont the edge of the intellectual faculties, as well as that of tbe moral sentiments. That “lime at last makes all things even” is also, perhaps, Illustrated In Surratt's case. It was cause for Just indignation that the Catholic Church, or. at least, priests of tho “Catholic Church, gave- him shelter and se crecy—doing it in violation of the spirit. If not of the letter, of both hnmsn and Divine law, because of his professed religious tilth. Wb&t was once a matter of rumor and sur mlsc, Is made, by this correspondence, a thing of recorded frethe was bidden and protected by Catholics In Montreal, Quebec, Thrccßlvers,Londonderry and Liverpool. It is ~-t lifting that be was finally arrested by tbe hlphi?** authorities in the Cathol'c Church. There not wanting captious readers of the correspondence who fnslnuate that Ms escape from Italy was a * *>y the Papal officials, that bis arrest pi* 8001 ; r ' dlnal Antonelll’s plan for savJ^, from harm ; but I can find no warrant Ik? payers for harboring such a fool and feu?* mens suspicion. It seems to me, on the con trary, that the Cardinal proved himself our friend In a very enlightened sense. A tree man. to be sore, could have done no less than he did ; but, since the beginning of the re bellion, we have encountered so few true men In the high placvs of Europe that even ~inucb less than be did do would hare given 1 him h« uorabie proralnei c j inoureyes. Ho not only granted all our requests, but, as soon as be was satisfied of Surratt’s identity, ho or dered bis arrest without waiting the red- Ui e formalities to which Minister King and Mr.£e ward proposed resorting. For to tooeb. and for proving that there Is a nobler man hood is his Church than the Canadian and' English' priests showed, oar thanks are Justly*the CsrdinaL - • The present Intention of the Government is to bring Surratt direct to this city- He la not likely to arrive under four or five weeks. He must, of course; be tried by the civil authorities; bat it is doabtfhl if be is at once surrendered to them. The.Chlef Justice of the District Supreme Court’ls Judge David K, Cartier, formerly of Ohio, and the pre sumption Is that the case would ho so man oaed os to bring U before him. Judge A- B. OBn, formerly of New York,- Judge Fisher, formerly of Delaware, and Judge A. Wiley, of Alexandria; are bis associates. The latter is the partisan and crotchety individual bc foro whom the murderess, Mary Harris, was tried and the trial of Sorratt before him Is something that all good men should hope wo may be spared. Whether a trial before any Judge in this District could result In a conviction Is, perhaps, doubtful. A'truly oyal jury might be got, but the probabill- Ics are decidedly against such a belief. IsaoEL. FROM NEW YOIML Matters and Tilings in the Me tropolis. Skating and Skating Ponds—The Basil Co Part*—Preparations for the Great Exhibitlon-NewYork and Chian—A Mew Era m International Trade—lts Importance to Chicago— Direct lm* portntlon from Asiatic Ports—The Price of Worship—Devotion a Luxury —A Spasm of Enterprise—Proposed monster Improvement In Brooklyn— Where Mew York Store# Its Groin— Official Plunder, Etc. Imperial Correspondence of tho Chicago Tribune.) Nsw Yous, December 13. 1800. It Is rather a remarkable, as well as deplo rable fact that hardly another city lu the Northern States affords such Inadequate fa cilities for skating as this Metropolitan city of Now York. To be sure there to Central Park, with Us three ponds, open to all, and vlsittd during the winter months by thou sands of people; but it Is too remote from the centre of population, and bcaco can be cujoyed night after night only by those who live l& its immediate vicinity. Daring the skating sfoson each of the three poods in the Central Park to kept constantly in excellent condition lor skating, neither labor nor ex pense being spared to satisfy the require ments of the thousands of skaters who visit the park every day of tho winter. The Idea ol a free skating pond, however, most needs be repugnant to the fashionable aristocracy, who are accustomed to rendezvous In the Fifth Avenue Skating Rink, at the corner 01, Madison avenueandFifty-ninth street, which is hardly to he compared with the skating rinks in Chicago, although the papers here speak of its accommodations in terms of most extravagant praise. It Is merely a hollow formed by the elevation of the streets on each side ol a block of ground, covered by a cheap roof of rough boards, and fitted np with a few gSE-UghU and stoves. Then tncro Is the Fifth Avenue Pond, a block west of the rink, formed like the latter by deeding a square of low ground surrounded by high streets. Neither of these two pri vate ponds arc half as spacious or hair as attractive as the Central Park ponds, nor rouch?ccarcr the densely populated districts; but good rouud prices are charged for ad mission tickets, and therein they possess the questionable advantage of exclusiveness which to the narrow-chested, weak-mludcd Mies and btaux of Fifth Avenue amounts to everything. A little of tho same liberality atd enterprise which have given Chicago three fiuc skating parks and two comfortable rinks arc needed hero, and without these aids New York will have hardly anything to boost of !n“thc way of ont-door winter amusements. toc ncsa to tabzs. Tbc steamship companies anticipate a tre mendous tnm*-Atluntlc rash early next spring. Tlio Paris Exposition Unlvcrsellc, which it Is now settled will be even a greater World’s Fair than Its predecessor at London, will create an overwhelming demand for steamship accommodation for the multitude of eight-Pccrs who are certain to go from this side of the ocean. To partially meet this demand a society has been organized In Paris, will, ample capital, to charter tho Great Eastern for semi-monthly trips be tween New York and Crest. A contract has

been made for repairs and fittings, including new screw boilers, to be finished at a cost of $300,000, by the 6th of next March. Earing accommodation for two thousand tire hundred passengers, and it being the in tention of the company to issue through re turn tickets to Paris at reduced rates, it is thought that this arrangement will amply satisfy the whites of all who are beginning to count the cost and calculating the chances of viewing the great Exhibition. NEW VOUK AND CHINA, 1 The steamship Henry Cbauncey sailed on Tuesday, with the first mail orer taken di rect from the United States to China. The route Is from this port to Aspiowsll, | thence to San Francisco, thence to i Vobohama, Japan, whence the mall will i I c sent to Hong Kong, China. Under this new arrangement, mads will bo sent month ly to China, reaching uictr aestlna:: >:i twenty days quicker than fiiriiu-flj*. Thus commences a new cm in the history of international trade with the Metropoliian mart of Eastern A-d.v—an era that is destined to afoot and tlio foreign commerce of the United Stales du ring tbc period of the present generation, with richer results to the oatluu than can be compassed by the imagination of man With the early completion of the Pacific Railroad, and rapid steam navigation be tween Asiatic ports and San Francisco, the United Slates will lake position henceforth in the course of the centuries at the head of the maritime commerce of the world. All that will be needed to expand and develop the advantages of our unrivalled facilities for international trade will be a judicious and iiujucmtc system of revenue ta iff that will .liable our merchants to import the varied products of Asiatic agriculture and man ufacture without paving such excessive duties place us beyoed competition w»i b thwopemion of free trade in England. I have spoken of tbc new Pacific steamship line, and the completion of the Pacific Kail road as likely to mark the commencement of a period ol nni«ra‘l«lcd commercial pros perity. But what I mo&t particularly desire to Impress upon the tr.iuds of Western read ers and Chicago merchants especially, is the Importance of making early ctfbrts to secure for Chicago that proportion of this now Asiatic trade which wiU Justly and of ne cessity belong to It- San Francisco will en joy more ultimate relation* with the great ports of China and Japan, and In the end Calcutta, than yew York and London, but Chicago is nearer to Asia than either New York or London, and with ihenUimatc facilities for transportation ou the raclfic Railroad, there 1$ no reason why Chicago cannot import teas, silks, and other I Atiatlc products as easily and os cheaply as I Nt w York and London; or if not that, why | CLlcteo cannot bay from the Saa Francisco importers more cheaply than In New York. A SPASM OP JSNTEBTBISS. Brooklyn Is waking no from the long lethargy of the past. The people of that ovrr-giown village seem to realize at last that their city is not merely an ootpost of New York, a convenient lodging place for the thousands who do business across the river. They are beginning to understand that Brooklyn has some interests, interests of weighty importance, too, apart from the Interests of New York- Very lately atten tion bos been called to the tact that the cltv ofßrooklyn possesses nearly all the grain ftorsge facilities of the metropolis. It is estimated that Atlantic Basin and vicinity at the present time contain enough groin, piled ten feet high, to cover eight acres of ground. The city of New York has not suffi cient accommodation lor the storage of one hundred thousand bushels of grain, while the Atlantic Basin and Its bvlODglsga lest winter held over ten millions of bushels, besides immense quantities of salt and gnano. Bat even this great storage capacity la not adequate, by any means, to receive the constantly Increas ing cargoes of wbcit, com, oats, and barley which arrive here from.the West. So the Common Connell ol Brooklyn has flnallv de cided to connect the Western with the East ern (Williamsburg) District, by a broad ave nue across Wallsbont Bay, enclosing a basin two thousand feet long and fifteen hundred feet wide,, is believed, will a ford all necessary room for the storage of grain, i Nothing, however, has been said ;bc*2! the 1 of the. elevator system, and probo- 1 bly nothing will ever be done in that direc tion cntil some enterprising Western com*, pany Introduces hero the Chicago sys tem, juet as New York had to wait for a few Chicago capitalists to erect the mammoth slaughter house at Communip&w. The tatter Institution, by the way. nnder the management of William R. Arthur, whom you will remember as for merly General Superintendent of the Illinois Central Railroad, has already ’ forked a com plete revolution la the slaughtering business of the metropolis. OFFICIAL PLUNDER. What with taxes for city, county and State, taxes for street*, taxes fur docks, taxes for markets, taxes for Fire and Police De partments, taxes for schools, and taxes for , public buildings, to say nothing of taxes for the national revenue and a considerable an nual assessment tor the Central Park luxury, the citizens of Manhattan Island, it would seem, mast be a sadly overburdened people. But the taxes of this city, in proportion to the wealth and number of Its population, are really somewhat less than the I*xes of such fourth rate cities as Albany and Buffalo, notwithstanding that millions of dollars are needlessly squandered to sat “iyth* ™P«lty of corrupt office-holders. If rigid economy could be enforced, in the management of city affairs, thepw caput rate of taxation would be smaller than m any other city in tho United States, for the sim ple reason tbit there is more wealth in . this j city. But extravagance and corruption, per-, meate every department of the corporation, I root, trank ana branch, and tax-payers are at the mercy of the meanest and most un scrupulous knaves that ever Infested the ranks of any political organization. The officials arc not so much at I fault as the men who elevate them to office, for here party influence and power can only be purchased and-pald for like mere mer chandise- A prominent city officer who bolds a place legitimately worth $3,030 per annum told me, the other day, that having been only a yeario office he had already paid a forty ehren thousand doUan to his admiring adherents for their services In managing bis ■‘mlnatlon and election! Is It any wonder *»,«. that the city funds arc stolen so long as , b r! *vnry is not empty 1 The city of New York will* * l^ie kJ taxation, this vear, a sum f'' years ago, would'hare been lo^nst»J a Juneau CXP ““* ° f ““ Untied Slates Qo> m cruaeatl DICPNS’ CHRISTMAS STORY. Mugby Jixnction, DABBOZ B&OTIUUtS. u Guard 1 What place Is this ? ” “Mugby Junction, sir.” • “ A windy place I ” ♦ “ Tee, it mostly to, sir. - “ And looks comfortless indeed! ” “Yes, it generally docs, air.” “Is it a rainy night atUlf ” . “Poore,sir. . . „ “ Open the door. I’ll get out,” “ You’ll have, sir,” sold the guard, gllston izurwttb drops of wet, and looking at the tearful face of Ms watch by the light of his lantern as the traveller descended, “ three minutes here.” “ More, 1 think. For lam not going on.” “Thought you had a through ticket, So I hove, but I stall sacrifice the rest of It.; I want my luggage.” , “ Please to come to the van and point It out, sir. Be good enough to look very ahaip, sir. Not a moment to spare.” The guard hurried to the luggage van, and the traveller hurried after him. The guard got into it, and the traveller looked intoit. “ Those two large block portmanteaus In the comer where your light shines.-' Those are mine.” . • Name upon ’em, sir?” “ Bar box Brothers.” “ Stand clear, sir. If yon please. One. Two. Right!” Lamp waved. Signal lights ahead already, changing. Shriek iromeoglne. Train goned “Mugby Junction!” eald the travellers pulling up the woollen muffler round hi? throat with both bauds. “At past three o’clock of a tempestuous morning! So!” He spoke to himself. There was no one else to speak to. Perhaps, though there had been any one else to speak to. be would have preferred to speak to himself. Speaking to himself he spoke to a man within five years of fifty either way, who had turned gray too soon, like a neglected fire; a min of ponder, Ing habit, brooding carriage of the head and suppressed Internal voice; a man with many Indications on him of having been much alone. . • . . He stood unnoticed on the dreary plat form, except bv the rain and by the wind. Those two vigilant assailants made a rush at him. “Very well,” said he, yielding. “It signifies nothing to me to what quarter! turn my face.” , , • Thus, at Mugby Junction, at past three o’clock of a tempestuous morning, the traveller went where the weather drove him. Not bnt whit ho could make a stand when *be was so minded, for, coming to the cud of the roofed shelter (it is of considerable ex tent at Mugby Junction), and looking out upon the dark night, with a yet darker spirit-wing of storm heating Us wild way tnrotigb If. he faced about, and held his own as ruggedly in the difficult direction as he had held it in the easier one. Thus, with a steady step, the travrllerwcut up aod.down, up and down, np and down, seeking nothing atd finding It. A place replete with shadowy shapes, this Mu;by Junction In the black hours of the four-and-tweoty. Mysterious goods trains, covered with palls and gliding oat like vast weird ftmerals, conveying themselves guilt- Dv away from the presence of the few light ed lamps, as If their freight bad come to a secret and unlawful end. Half mites of coal pursuing in a Detective manner, following when they lend, stopping when they stop, backing when they back. Red hot embers showering out upon the ground, down this dork avenue and down the other, us if tortur ing fires were beingraked clear; concurrently, shrieks and groans and grinds invading the ear. ss If the tortured were at the height of their sutlcring. Iron-barred cages full of cattle Jangling by midway, the drooping beasts with horns entangled, eyes frozen with terror.and mouths too; at least they have long icicles (or what seem so) hanging from their lips. Unknown languages in the air, c. aspiring in red, green and white char acters. An earthquake accompanied with thunder and lightning, going up express to London. Now. all quiet, all rusty, wind and rain In possession, lamps extinguished, Mug by Junction dead ana Indistinct, with Its robe drawn over is head, like Cicsar. Now, too, as the belated traveller plodded np and down, a shadowy train went by him in tee gloom, which was no other lain the train of a life. From whatsoever Intangible deep cutting or dark tunnel it emerged, here it came, unsammoned and unannounced, stealing upon him and passing away Into ob scurity. Here, mournfully went by, a child who had never had a childhood or known a parent, inseparable from a youth with a bit ter sense of bis uamelcssness, coupled to a man the enforced business of whose best years had bees distasteful and oppressive, linked to an ungrateful fiend, dragging after him a woman once beloved. Attendant, with many a clank and wrench, were lam bcrlng cares, dark mediations, huge dim dis appointments, monotonous years, a long jar ring line of the discords of a solitary and unhappy existence. “Yours, sir?” The traveller recalled bis eyes from the waste into which they had been Btaring, and fell bach a step or so under the abruptness, and perhaps the chance appropriateness, of the question. “Uh I My thoughts were not here for tho moment. Yes. Yes. Those two portman teaus arc mine. Arc you a Porter?" “On Voner's »ir. But 1 am Lamps” The traveller looked a little confused. “Who did yon tay you arc*” “Lamps, showing an oily cloth in hb hand, as further explanation. “Surely, surely* Is there any hotel or tav ern here ?” “JCot exactly here. sir. There is a ‘Refresh ment Room here, bat—'’ Lutapi, with a nilchty serious look, gave his head a were- f ntr roll that plainly added—“but i’a 4 bless. •<) «lr*QU>*t>BCc yon (}•«* tt 1 , not *yn “You couldn't recommend it, 1 teJ, if it was available !*’ “Ask your jmrdon, air. If It was—V’ “Open i” “It ain’t my place, as a paid servant of the company. to give my opinion on any of the company's tocplc*,” he pronounced it marc like toothpicks, “beyond Jamp-iic and cot* lons,”ictarnedLaiup», Inaconddjo'iaJ toie; “but speakiuc a* a man, i wouldn't room* mend my tatimr (II he was to come to iile asain) to go and try how he’d he ireawlas the Refreshment Room. Not, speaking as a man, no, 1 would not.” The traveller coded conviction. poee 1 can put np lu the town ? There is a town here S” For a traveller (though a stay at-home compared with most travellers) had been, like many others, carried on the steam winds imd the iron tides through that Jane lion before, without bavin}; ever, ai one mljiht eu' , pone ashore there. “O yes. there’s a town, olr. Anyways* there’s town tnotigh to put up In. But.” following the glance of the other to his log. trope, ** this Is a very dead time of the night wiih us. sir.' The deadest time. 1 might a’mosl call It our deadest and buriedieil time.” •• Xo porters about J” ‘•tVeU, sir, you see,” returned Lamps, confidential again, ‘’they in general goes off with the gas. That’s bow it Is. And they seem to have overlooked yon through your walking to the funicr end of the platform. Cnl in a few minutes she may be up.*’ “Who may be no?” “ The three forty-two, sir. She goes off In a aidin’ till the Up X passes, and then she,” here an air of hopehil vagueness pervaded , Lamps, “ d*H>a all as lays In her power. 1 ’ ‘*l doubt If I comprehend the arrange- ment.” “ I doubt if anybody do, sir. She’s a Par liamentary. air. And. you see, a Parliamen tary, or a bkinnlahun—” “ Do yon mean on Excursion ?” “That’s U, sir. A Parliamentary, or a SkirmUhuo, she mostly dooj go oh'lnto a fidin*. But nhen she con pet a chance, she’s whistled out of it, and she’s whistled up into doin’all as.” Lamps again wore the air of a highly sanguine mao who hoped for the best, “all as lays In her power.” lie then explained that porters on duty being required to be in attendance on the Parliamentary matron In question, would doubtless torn np with the gas. In the meantime, if the gentleman would not very much object to the smell of lamp oil, and would accept the warmth of his little room. The gentleman being by this time very cold. Instantly closed with the proposal. A greasy little cabin It was, suggestive to the tease of smell, of a cabin in a whaler. Bat there was a bright fire burning In its rusty grate, and on the floor there stood a wooden stand of newly trimmed and lighted lamps, ready for carriage service. They made a bright show, and their Upbt, and the warmth, accounted for the popularity of the room, as borne witness to by many impres sions of velveteen trousers on the form by the Arc, and many rounded smears and smudges of stooping velveteen shoulders on the adjacent wall. Various untidy shelves accommodated aquantily of lamps and oil cans, a trip rant collection of what looked like the pocket-handkerchiefs Of the 1 whole lamp family. As Barbox Brothers (so to call the traveller on the warranty of his luggage) took hU scat upon the form, and warmed his now un gloved hands at the fire, be glanced sriue at a little deal desk, mnch blotched with Ink, which his eieow touched. Upon it were seme scraps of coarse paper, and a superan nuated steel pen in very reduced and gritty circumstances. From glancing at the scraps of paper, he turned involnntazily to bis host, and said, with some roughness, “ Why, you are never a poet, man I” Lamps had certainly not the conventional appearance of one, as be stood modestly robbing his squab nose with a handkerchief so exceedingly oily that he might have been in the act ol mistaking himself lor one of his charges. He was a spare man of abont the Barbox Brothers time of life, with his feature® whimsically drawn upward as if they were attracted by the roots of his hair. He bad a peculiarly shining, transparent complexion, probably‘occasioned by con atant oleaginous apnlication; and his attrac tive hair, being ent short, and twine grtaled, and standing straight op on end as If it m Its turn were attracted by some Invisible mag net above It, the top of hisbead was not very unlike a lamp-wick. . , „ “ But to be sure it’s no business of mine, sjid Barbox Brothers. “That was an Am per tlnent observation on my part. Be what you people, sir,” remarked Lamps, in a tone of apology, “are sometimes what they knows that better than I do,” sighed the other. “1 hare been what I don’t like, all my life.” “When I first took, air.” resumed Lamps, »«to composing httle Comlc-Songs-Uke— Barbox Brothers eyed him with great dte ft"°—To composing little Comic-Song* like, —andwhatwasmore harf,—to shjgmg fam,’ ofitirvgrfla ” said* Lamps, it went the grain at that did Indeed.” that was not all oil here shining iJtnSJS eve Barbox Brother* withdrew - hi/owna Utile disconcerted, looked atUo : SB* a n*fiS i jolt? Wheredidyou siDg.'them? Public i b ““which Mr. Lamps returned the carious 1 ■■ fl" n uncof, cicllcl. “What, lajs lu U« power la sometimes more, and sometimes loss; bat H'« laid In her power to get up to-night, by legend “Barbox Brothers,” in largo wWte'lcUcrs on two black surfaces, was very coon afterwards trundling on a track tbrounh a sliest street, and, when tbe owner of too legend bad shivered on tbe pavement half an hour, what time the porter’s knock* at tblT ina dcor knocked np tbe whole town first, and the ion last, ho groped his way Into the close air of a shut-up boose, and so groped between tbe sbccts of a abut-up bed that seemed to have been expressly re* frlgcratcd for him. when last made. ,‘‘ [ , “ You remember me, Young Jackson ?" « "What do I remember, If not you? You are my first remembrance. It was yon who told me that was my name. It was too who told me that oa every twentieth of Decem ber my life bad a pfenltentla!' anniversary In U called a bhtbday. I aoppose tbelast com munication waa truer than the Arat.” ' •- “What am I like, Yoon* Jackson?" “Yon are like a blight all through the year, to me. Ton hard-lined, thin-upped, repressive, changeless woman with a was mask on. Ton arc like the Devil to me; most of all when yon teach me religions things, foryou make meabhor them." "Yon romemberme, Mr. Young Jackson?" Is another voice from another quarter. *' Most gratefully, sir. You wore the ray of hope and prospering ambition In my life. When I attended your course, I believed that I should come to be a greater healer,' and I felt almost happy, even though I was stUl the one boarder m the bouse with that horrible mask, and ato and drank in silence and constraint with the mask before me, every day. As I had done every, every, every day, through my school time and from my earliest recollection.” What am I like, Mr. Young Jackson?" • " Tou are like a Superior Being to me. Tou ore like nature beginning to reveal her self to me. I hear yon again, as one of the hashed crowd ofyoong men kindling under the power of your presence and knowledge, and yon bring Into my eyes the only exmt unt tears that ever stood in them." ** Yon remember Me, Mr. Young Jackson?" In a grating voice from quite another quar ter. "Too well. Tou made your ghostly ap pearance in my life one day, ana announced that its course was to besudaeci/aud wholly changed. Ton showed me which was my wearisome scat In the Galley of Barbox Brothers. (When they were, If they ever wcie, la unknown to me; there was nothing of them but the name when I bent to tho oar.) Tou told me what I was to do, and what to be mild; yon told me afterwards, at intervals of years, when I was to sign for the Firm, when I became a partner, when I be came the Finn. 1 know no more of it, or of myself." " What am I like, Mr. Young Jackson?" " Yon are like my father, I sometimes thick. Ton are bard enough and cold enough so to havo brought up au unacknowl edged eon. I see your scanty figure, your close brown suit, and yonr tight brown wig; but yon. too, wear a wax mask to your death. Von never by a dunce remove It —it never by a chance falls off—ami I kuow no more of yon." Throughout this dialogue, tho traveller spoke to hlmsclfat his window in the morn ing, a» he bed spoke to himself at the June ti'-u ov« r night. And as he then looked in toe darkness, a man wbo had turned gray too soon, like a neglected fire, so ho uow looked in the sunbglit, an ashler grqy, like a fire which the brightness of the sun put out. The firm of Barbox Brothers had been some offshoot or lirogu’ar branch of the Futile Notary and bill-broking tree. It hml trained for ltse ? f a griping reputation before the days of Young Jackson, audtho reputa tion bad stuck to It and to him. As be hod imperceptibly come Into posses sion of the dim den up in the comer of a court off Lombard street, on whose grimy windows the inscription Harbor Brothers bad for many long years daily interposed It self between blm and the sky, so be bad In sensibly found himself a personage held In chronic distrust, whom it was essential to screw tight to every transaction iu which he engaged, whose word was never to be taken without his attested bond, whom all dealers with oncnly set up guards and wards against. This character had come upon blm through no act of his own. It was as if the original Barbox had stretched him self down upon the office floor, and had thither cansed to be conveyed Vonng Jack fon In his sleep, and had there effected a metempsychosis and exchange of pecans with him. The discovery—aided in ils turn by the deceit of the only woman ho had ever loved, and the deceit of tbc only friend he bad ever made; who eloped from him to he married together—the discovery, so followed up, completed what his earliest rearing had began. lie shrank, abashed, within the form of Ba-box, and lifted up his head and heart no more. But he did at last effect one great release in Ins condition. He broke tbc oar he had plied so long, and he scuttled and sank the galley, lie prevented the gradual retirement of an old conventional business from him, by taking the initiative and retiring from ft. With enough to live on (though alter all with not too much,) he obliterated the firm of Barbox Brothers from the pages of tbo post ofiice directory aud the face of the earth, leaving nothing but its name on two port manteaus. “For one must have some name In going about for people to pick up,” he explained toMmrhylOgh street, through the inn-win dow, “and that name at least was real once. Whereas, Young Jackson I—not to mention its being a sadly satirical misnomer fur Old Jackson." He took np Tils hat and walked oaf, just time to sec/ facing along on the opposite t>de of the way, :i velveteen man, carrying hit dnj’j dinner In a small bundle that might have been larger without suspicion of glut tony, aiid pelting away towards the Junction at a (Treat puce. - 'iiiciu'A LttiujNj Mid Ombox Brotlicrg. “ And bi the by—” Ki.llculocs, sur-ly, that a man so serious, to edf-contalncd, and not three dass cmaucl ifticdlnm a routine of drudgery, should st«.ud rubbing bis chin lu the street, in a hi own study about comic songs. •* Bedside 5” said Barbox Brother, tes tily. “ Sings them at the bedside ? Whv at the bedside, unless he goes to bed drank? Does, 1 etouJda’t wonder. But It’s no basi ns of mine. Let me see. Mngby Junction, Machy Junction. Where shall Igo next i As it came into my head last night when I woke from an uneasy sleep la the carriage and found myself here, I can go anywhere irem here, where shall I go? I’ll go and look at the Junction by daylight. Toere’s no burry, and I may Ukc tha look of one Line better than another.” But there wore so many Lines. Gazing down upon them from a bridge at the Junc tion, it was as If the concentrating Com ittnies formed a great Industrial Exhibition of the works of tha extraordinary grouod f-pldcrsthat spun iron. And then so many of the Lines went such wonderful ways, so crossing and curving among one another, that the eye loatthvm. Ami then some of them appeared to start with the fixed inten tion of going five hundred miles, and all of a sudden gave it up at an Insignificant bar rier, or turned o?f Into a workshop. And then others, like intoxicated men, went a little way very straight, and surprisingly slued round and came back again. And then , others were so chock-ftill oj trucks of coal, others were so blocked with tracks of casks, others were so gorged with trucks of ballast, others were so set apart for wheeled objects like Immense Iron cotton-reels; while others were so bright and clear, and others were so dd.vcrcd over to rust and ashes and idle whecltHirrows out of work, with their legs in the air (looking much like their master* on strike), that there was no beginning, middle, or end to the bewilderment. Bar box Brothers stood puzzled on the bridge, passing his right band across the lints on his forehead, which multiplied while he looked down, as if the railway Lines were getting themselves photographed on that sensitive plate. Then, was heard a distant ringing ot bells and blowing of whis tles. Then, puppet-looking beads ol men popped out of Dozes In perspective, and popped In again. Then, prodigious w00d49 razors set up on'fend, began shaving the at mosphere. Then, several locomotive en gines in several directions began to scream and be agitated. Then, along one avenue a train came in. Then, along another two trains appeared that didn't comc,but stopped without. Then, bits of trains broke off. ■ Then, a struggling horse became involved with them. Then, the locomotives shared the bits of train, and ran away with the whole. “I bare not made my next move much clearer by this. No hurry. No need to make up my mind to-day, to-morrow, nor yet the day after. I’ll take a walk.” It fell out somehow (perhape he meant it should) that the walk tended to the plat form at which he had aligbicd, and to Lamps’ room. But Lamps was not In bis room. A pair of velveteen shoulders were adapting themselves to one of the Impres sions on the wall by Lanins’ fireplace, but otherwise the room was void. In passing back to get out of the station again, he learnt the cause of this vacancy, hr catching sight of Lamps on the opposite line of rail way, skipping along the top of a train, from coinage to carriage, and catching lighted namesakes thrown up to him by a coadjutor. “He Is busy. He has not much time for composing or singing comic songs this mom- Ire, I take It.” The direction he pursued now was In the country, keeping very near to the side ol one great line of railway, and within easy view of others. “I bare half a mind,” he said, glancing around, “to settle the question from this point, by saying, *riltake this set of rails, or that, or t’other, end sfck to It.’ They separate themselves from the confu sion, out here, and go their ways ” Ascending a gentle hill of some extent, he cametoafewcottagee. There, looking about him as a very reserved man might who had never looked about him !n his life before, he saw some six or eight young children come merrily trooping and whooping from one of the cottages, and disperse. But not until they had all turned at the little garden gate, and kissed their hands to a free at the upper window; a low window enough, although the upper for the cottage bad bat a story of one room above the ground. Vow that the chQdreo should do this was nothing; but that they should do this to a free lying on the sill of the open window, turned towaids them in a horizontal posi tion, and apparently only a free, was some thing noticeable. He looked np at the win dow again. Could only see a very fragile, though a very bright free, lying on one cheek on the window-sill. The delicate smiling free of a girl or woman. Framed in long, bright brown hair, round which was tied a light blue band or fillet, {passing un der the chin. Be walked on, turned back, passed the window again, shyly glanced np again. No change. He struck olf by a winding branch road at the top of the hill—which Ac must otherwise bare descended—kept the cottage in view, worked bb way round at a distance eo aa to come ont once more into the main road and be obliged to pass the cottages again. The free still lay on the wlndow-eilL but not so much inclined towards him. And now there were a pair of delicate bands too. They hid tbe action of performing on some musical instrument, and yet it produced no sound that reached bb ears. “Mugby Junction must be tbe maddest place in England,” said Barbox Brothers, pursuing hb way down the hilL “ The brat thl-g 1 find here b a railway porter who composes comic songs to sing at bis bedside. The second thing I find herds a free, and. a “ I on?. £sir of bonds playing a musical Instrument bat don't playr’ " • ’ 1 ' ‘The day was a fine bright day la tbo early btglunioic of November,. the air was clear ana inspiriting, and tbo land was rich .in bciiulilul colors. Tbe prcvailiug colors In the court off Lomba d street, London city, bad been few and sombre. Sometimes, when .tberwralhereb-cwboro was very bright In deed.'tbo dwellers' In- those tents enjoyed a pfppoi'oud-sali-eolored day or two, bat their atmosphere's usual wear was slate, or snuff color. He relished bis walk so well, that be re pealed it next day. He was a little earlier at tbe cottage than the day. before, tod be : could bear tbo children up stair* singing to a rtcnisr measure and clapping out the 11 mo with tb’eir bands. ' • “Still, there la no sound of any musical Instrument,” he said, listening at tbo cor ner, and yet I saw the performing bands again, as 1 came by. What are the children sinking? Why, good Lord, they can never be siugiug the multlpllcatlon-tablo I’ * They were though; and with Infinite en joyment. The mysterious lace bad a voice attached to It.' which occasionally led or set the children right. Its musical cheerfulness was deligbtiul. Tbe measure at length stopped, and was succeeded by a murmuring of young voices, and then by a short'song, which he made out to be about the current month of tbe year, and about what work it yielded to the laborers In the fields end farm yards. Then, there was a stir of little feet, and the children came trooping and. whoop ing out, aa on the previous day. And again, as on the previous day, they all turned at the garden gate, and kissed their hands—evi dently to tbe face on the window-sill, though Barbox Brothers from bis retired post of dis advantage at the corner could not see it. Bat as 'the children dispersed, ha eat off one email straggler—a brown-faced boy, with fiaxen hair—and said to him ; "Come here, little one. Tell me whoso house is that." The child, with one swarthy arm held up across his eyes, half in shyness, and half ready for defence, said from behind the inside of his elbow: " Phabe’s.” " And who," eaid Barbox Brothers, quite as much embarrassed by his part in the dia logue as the cbildcoala possibly be by bis, "SPhtcbe?" *• To which the child madeanswer: "Why, Phcbe, of course." The small but sharp observer had eyed his questioner closely, and had taken his moral measure. He lowered hU guard, and rather assumed a tone with him ; as having discov ered him to be an unaccustomed person In the art of polite conversation. "Phcebc," said the child, "can’t be any bobby else but Ptcebc. Can she S" "No, I suppose not.” "Well,” returned the child,. "then why did you ask roe?” * ’ , Deeming It prudent to shift his ground, Barbox Brothers took np a new position. "What do you do there? Up therein that room where the open window is. What do you do there *" "Cool," said the child. “Eh?" • • • , "Co-o-1,” the child repeated in a louder voice, lengthening oat the word with a fixed look and a great emphasis, as ranch as to say : " What’s the use of yourhavinggrown np, if you’re such a donkey as not to under stand me?"- "Ah I School, school,”said Barbox Broth ere. 44 Yes, yes, yes. And Phmbe teaches you?" The child nodded. “ Good boy.” “Timed it out, have you f" aald the child. 11 Yes. 1 have found it out. What would you do ulih twopence. If Igavu it to you?” “Fend it.“ The km-ck-down promptitude of this re ply louring him not a Je<* to stand upon, Barbox Brothers produced thfe twopenco with crest lameness, and withdrew in astatc of humiliation. Cut teeing the face on the windowsill as he passed the cottage, he acknowledged its presence there with a gesture, wblcn was not a ncd. not a bow, not a removal of his hat from his head, but was a dlUldent com. promise between or struggle with all three. The eyes In the face seemed amused, or cheered, or both, and the Ups modestly said,/ “Good day to you, sir.” 44 1 find I rauct stick fora time to Ifugby Junction,” said Barbox Brothers, with much gravity, after once more stopping ou his re turn read to look at the Lmcs where they went their several ways so quietly. 44 1 cuu’t moke up my mind yet, which Iron road to take. In fact, 1 must get a little accustom* ed to the Junction before I can decide.” So. he announced at the Inn that he was 41 going to stay on far the present,” and im proved bis acquaintance with the Junction that night, and again n<*xt morning, and again next night and morning: going down to the station, mirpling with the people there, looking about him down all the avenues of railway, and beginning to take an interest In the incomings ood outgoings of the trains. At first, bo oilen put his head Into Lump’s Uttlo room, but he never found Lamps there. A pair or two of velveteen shoulders he usually found there, stooping over the fire, sometimes in connec tion with a clasped kuifc and a piece of bread and meat; out the answer to his in quiry, 4 ‘‘Where’s Lamps T f was, either that he was 44 t’other side the line,” or, that It was bis oflllrae, or (In the latter case), hla own personal introduction t<> another Lamps who was not bis Lamps. However, he was not so desperately set upon seeing Lamps now, but he bore the disappointment. Nor did be so wholly devote himself to his severe application to the study of ilagby Junction as to neglect exercise. On the contrary, he look a Viulk every day, aud always the same walk. But the woatuer turned cold and wet again, aud tho window was never open. At length, after a lapse or some days, there came another streak of bright hardy autumn weather. It was* Saturday. The window wa« of eu, and the children were gone. Not surprising, thi.-, fur be had patieutlv watched •t»<r waited *t the corner, until they xeere gone. 44 G00d flay,” be said to the face: ab*o lately gelling tils h»t clear off hb head this tloic. 44 Good day to yon, air.” 44 1 am gla*d you have & fine sky again to look at.” 44 Thank you, sir. It Is kind of you.” 4 * Yon arc an invalid. I fear " 44 No. sir, I have very good health.” 4 But are you uot always lying down V' 4i O yes, 1 am always lying down because I cannot sit up. But 1 am not an Invalid.” The laughlog eyes seemed highly to enjoy his groat mistake. 04 4 J “Would you mind taking the trouble to come - In, sir? There is a beautiful view from this window. And yon would see that 1 sni not at all ill—being no good os to care.” lb was said to be) p him. as bo stood Irreso lute, but evidently desiring to enter, with bis diludent hand ou the latch of the garden gate. It did help him, and he went hi. The room up stairs was a very clean, white room, with alow roof. Its only Inmate lay on a couch that brought ner free to a level with the window. The couch was white too; and her simple dress or wrapper being light blue. like tbe band around her hair she had no ethereal look, and a fanciful ap pearance of lying clouds. Ue felt that sbo instinctively perceived him to be by habit, a down-cast, taciturn man ; it was another help to him to have established that understanding so easily, and got It over. There was an awkward constraint upon him, nevertheless, as be touched her baud and took a chair at the side of her couch. * ‘‘i see, now,” he began, not at all ducntly. how you occupy your hands. Only seclo*’ you from the path outside, I thought you were playing ou something. She was engaged in very nimbly and dex terously making lace, a lace-pillow lay up on her breast; and the quick movements and changes of her hands upon it as she worked had given them the action he bad misinter preted. ~ “That b curious,” she answered, with a bright smile. “For I often fruev, myself, that 1 play tones when I am at work,” “Have you any musical knowledge <” She shook her head. “1 think I could pick out tunes. If I had any Instrument winchcould be made so han dy to me as my lace-pillow. But I daro say I deceive myself- At all events, X shaL never know.” “Ton have a musical voice. Excuse me: I bave beard you sing.” “With the children,” she answered, slight ly coloring. “Oyes; I blog with the children, if U can bo called singing.” Barbox Brothers glanced at the two small formsin the room, and hazarded the specu lation that she was fond of children, aud i bat she was learned in new systems of teaching them. “Very fond of them,” she said, ing her head again; “but I know nothing ol leaching beyond the Interest I have in It, and the nleisure U gives me when they learn. Perhaps your over bearing my little scholars sing some of their lessons, has led you so frr astray as to think me a grand teacher? Ah I I thought so! No, I have only read and been told about that system. It seemed so pretty and pleafant, and to treat (hvu to like iba meny Robins they are. that I took np with Uin my little wav. Ton don’t need to be told what a very little way mine la. sir." she added, with a glance at the man forms and round the room. All this time her bands were busy at her lace-pillow. As they still continued so, and as there was a kind of substitute for cancer sstion jo the click and play of its pegs, Bar box Brothers took the opportunity of observ ing her. He guessed her to be thirty. The charm of her transparent free and large bright brown eyes, was, not that they were passively resigned, but that they were ac tively and thoroughly cheerful. Even her busy hands, which of their own thinn»ea alone might have besought compassion, piled .tbelr task with a gay courage that made mere compassion an unjustifiable assumption of superiority, and an Impertinence. Be saw her eyes in the act of rising to wards his, and he directed his towards the prospect, saying: “ BeautifhUndeed!” “Most beautiful, sir. I have sometimes had s fancy that I would like to sit up, for once, only to try how It looks to an erect head. But what a foolish fancy that would be to encourage I It cannot look more love ly to any one than it does to me.” Her eyes were turned to it as she spoke, with most delighted admiration and enjoy ment. There was not a trace In It of any sense of deprivation. “And those thread* of railway, with tbelr puffs of smoke and steam changing places so fast, make it so lively for me,” she went on. “I think of the number of people who con go where they wish, on tbelr cosiness, or their pleasures; I remember that tbe pnffr make signs to me that they are actually go ing while I look; and that enlivens the pros pect with abundance of company. If I want company. There is the great Junction, too. I don’t see it under the loot of the hill, but I can very often bear it, and I always know it Is there. It seems to join me, in a way, to I don’t know how many places and things that /shall never see.” / With an abashed kind of idea that it might have already joined himself to aomething’he bad never seen, he said constrainedly, “Just ..“Aodsoyon see, sir,” pursued Phcebe, * I am not the Invalid you thought me, and I am very well off indeed.” “Ton have a happy disposition.” said Barbox Brothers; pernaps with a slight ex cusatory touch for bis own disposition. ,‘Ab? But you should know my father.” she replied. “His is the heppy disposition! Don't mind, sir!” For ms reserve'took, tbe alarm at a step upon the stairs, and he dis trusted that he would be set down lor a troublesome intruder. “Thai is my frther coming.’’ _ j Tbe door opened, and the father psow there. - ‘ . “Why, Loops P exclaimed Barbox Br®. there,- starting from bis chair. “How you do. Lamps?” To ahich,- Lamps- -responded: “Ti» gentleman foe, Nowhere. How do you da eli?” * Ard-thcj shook hands, to tho ercatm ?• admirsUoa and surprise of Lamp’s dau?h. ■ ter. &' •*I bare' .looked you apj half a doze» V' times, stece that night," said Barbox Bro;f T era. *• but have never found jou.” - ■ ‘‘Bo I'to heerd on, s'r, so I’ve been! no * relumed Lamps. "It** your being noticed so often down at tbe Junction, without u*. inp any train, that ba» begun to get you the name »mcnp on of the gentleman tor Xo where. No offence In my haring called yoa by Jt when took by surprise, 1 hope, sir ?" 1 "Noneat alt It** as pood a same f or I me as any other 70a coaid call ms br t But may 1 ash yon a question la the corner V here." ’ Lamps suffered himself to be led aside from his daughter's coach, by one of tho buttons of his velveteen jacket. "Is this tho bedside where yon sing roar songs P" .Lamps nodded. The gentleman for Nowhere clapped him on the shoulder, and they faced ab-mt again "Upon my word, my dear," said Lamw then to his daughter, looking from her to her visitor, "It Is such an amaze to me. to find you brought acquainted with IhUgenileuua, that I must (11 this gentleman will excuse me) take a rounder." Mr. Damps demonstrated in action whs: this meant, by polling out his oily handker chief rolled up in the form of a ball, ami fir ing himself an elaborate smear, from behind the right car, np the cheek, across the fore head, and down the other cheek to behind his left ear. After this operation, he shone exceedingly. "It's according to my custom when par ticular warmed up by any agitation, sir," he offered byway of apology. "And i am thrown Into that state of amaze by Ing yon brought acquainted with Pkxbe that I—that I think I will. If yoa’ll excise me, take another rounder.” Which be did, seeming to be greatly restored by it. They werenow both standing by tbs side of her conch, and she was working at lace-pillow. "Tonr dangbtertells me," Mid Barbox Brothers, still in a half reluctant. Shamefaced way, "that bhe.never sits up." "No, sir, nor ntver boa done. Ton see, her mother, who died when she was a year’and two months old, was subject to very bad fits and as she had never mentioned to me that she tco* subject to fits, they couldn’t be guarded against. Consequently, she dropped the baby when took, and tbishappened. "It was verv wrong of her," said Barbox Brothers, with a knitted brow, ‘to marry you, making a secret of her infirmity." "We" sir," pleaded Lamps, In behalf of the long ■ ased. " You sec, Phoibe and me, we t .. talked that over too. And Lordblt-w us! Such a number on us has our infirmities, what wita fit*, and what with misfits, of one sort and another, that if we confessed to’em all before we get married, most of us might never get married." " Might cot that be for the better 5” "Not In this ease, sir," said Phmhe, civic* her hand to her father. “ No, not in this case sir,” said her lather, patting It between hla own. 44 You correct me,” returned C 4 rbos Brothers, with a blush ; “ ami I must lojk so like a brute, that at all events it w» be superfluous In me to confess to that Iq. firmit j. 1 wish you would tell me a hul* more about yourselves. 1 hardly knowao* to ask it of you, for lam conscious that { have a bad, stiff manner, a dull, dtscoamjpn* war with me, but I wish yon would.’ 1 * r W ilh all cur hearts, sir, returned Lamp?, payly, for bulb. “ And first ©fall, lha: vus may know my name— 11 “Stay I” interposed the visitor, wi’.b s slight 11 oali. “ What signifies your name! Lamps Is name enough fur me. I like U. It is bright and expressive. V.'hat do I van: more ?” “Why to be sure, sir,” returned Lamps. “ I have in general no other name d.n* the Junction; but I tbougut, on account of vour be*ni here as a first-class single. ia a private character, that you might— 1 ” The visitor waved the thought arm wllb bis band, and Lamps acknowjeOc i the mark of confidence by taking aaotuer rounder. “You are hard worked, I take for cran'pJF* fuld Barbox Brothers, when the eolJct-r of the rounder came out of It muca dir:ur than he went into it. Lamjia was beginning, “Not pariicalarso,” when his daughter took him up. 44 O yes, sir, he Is very Imrd-workod. Four teen, fifteen, eighteen hours a day. run times twenty-four hours at a time.” 4 * And you,” said Barbox Bj others, “ what with your school, Phcebc, and what with your lace-making—” - 44 But my school Is a pleasure to me," she interrupted, opening her brown eyes wifi.-r, as If surprised to find him so obtuse. *• i be gan it when I was but a child, because it brought me and the other children lulu com pany, don’t you see? That was uot work. I car ry it on still, because it keeps children about me. That L» not woik. 1 do It as love, not as work. Then my lace pillow”; her bn-y bands had stopped, as if her argument re quired all her cheerful earnestueas.'iut now went on again at the name; “It goes with my thoughts when 1 think, and it goes with my tunes when I bum any, ana tAaCs not work. Why. you yourself thought it muejc. you know, sir. And so it '3, to me.” “Everything is I” cried Lamps, radiantly. 44 Everything U music to her, sir.” 44 My father is, at any rate,” said Phcebe, excitingly pointing her thin forefinger at him. “There is more mu>ic Iu my father than tlie>e b in a brass band.’* “I say! My dear! It’s very flltyilllailf done, yon know; bnt you are flattering your father,” he protested, sparkling. “No I am not, sir. I assure No 1 am not. If 50U could hear my you would know lam not. Bat you never will hear him sing, because ha never sings to any one but me. Uowcvtr tired u« is, he always fctngato me when he cmucs he.**. c . v/h.ul lay here long a pour little broken noli, he u?ca losb-jrio me. More than that, housed to make songs, urittgiag iu who ever little jokes we had betweo \ os. il»rc than that, he oficn »do«-> so to thu flay <>, l'!l tell of you, father, as the jicnlhstnaa has asked about you. Uc is a poet', rir.” 4 *f shouldn’t wiih the gi-uthujinti, mv drar,” or served Lamps, fora mbmeatTnnflng grave, “to carry away that opinion of your Cither, because it might look aa If I was given to asking the Kars la a molloocollv manner what they was up to. "Which I svWuln’int tnee waste the rime, aud take the liberty, my dear.” “My father.” resumed Phmbe, amending her text, “is always on the bright *iJ.% amt the good side. Yen told me just novr. I had a disposition. Jlow can I help i. ?” Well, but nty dear.” returned Lamps, argumentatively, “how can /helpit? Tin i: to yoarsell. sir. Look at her. Always as 5 £ C Be .? V- r DOV * Always working—a-.d after all, sir, for but a very few shillin g a week—always contented, always lively, al interested m otuers, of all sorts. I raid, this moment, she was always os you ece her now. So she b, with a difference that comes to much the same. For. when It s my Sunday off, and the morning bells have done ringing, I hear the prayers and thanks read la the toueUnsest war; am! I bare lac hyms sung to me—«> soft, sir, that yon couldn’t hear *cm out of this room-in seem to me, I am sure, to come from heaven and go back to It.” It might have been merely through the association of the-c words with, their «acr"d ly quiet time, or it might have been through toe larger association of the words with the Redeemers presence beside the bedridden ; ll ? r dMtocOM tinkers time l.>. etop on the lace-giUmr, and clashed Uifai eclTM aronnd lus neck ae he bent di.irn. I, MUiral tenslbllitj in both father and daughter, the visitor could easily cac * It. for the other’s sake, *V ,r not demonstrative; and perfect IfitutUlve or acquired, was cither the first or second nature of .both. »««.£ ery f« w ' momenta. Lamps was taking another rounder with hb coiaical features beaming, while Pbcebc’s laughing eyes (Sait wpf : 6pe . ck ,°l 60 °P° n their lashes) 2ft*?? 11 dtoclgl by tores to him, and to 4*l w*. rk ’ ant l 1° Barbox Brothers. ,v ten rny father, sir.” she said brightly, il 8 yoa t aboQt my being Interested in other people even though they know nothing about me—which, by the by, I told you my to * n °w bow that cumca That’s my Cither's doing.” * No. it isn’t I” he protested. tt r?. D>t J° Q believe him, air; is. lie tells me of everything he sees down at bis work. You would be surprised wnat a qoan uty begets together tor me, every day. He looks Into the carriages, and tells how the ladles are dressea—so that I know all the fashions I He looks into the carriages, and tells me what pairs of gloves he sees, aud what new-married couples on their wedding trip—so that I know all about them I Ho collects chance news papers and hook*— io tnat I have plenty to read. He tells me about the sick people who •re travelling to try to get better—so that X know all about them I in short, as Ibe ran by saying, be tells me everything hr sees aud makes out, down at bis work, you can’t think what a quantity he does see and make ont.” M to colleclingr newspapers aid ‘book* bjj dear,” said Lamps, “xt’s clearl can hare no mem m that, because they’re sot or per* quisites. Ton see, sir. Its thi* way: A guard, beTl say to rue, ‘JIaUo, here you are. Lamps. I’tc saved this paper lor your daughter How 19 she agolrg on ?’ A bead porterf he’ll fay to me, ‘Here! Catch hold. Lamps Here’s a couple of wollcmes for your daughter. Is she pretty much where she were?* And that’s what makes It double welcome, you see. If she had a thousand pound in a box, they wouldn’t trouble themselves about her ; but being what she Is. you understand,” Lamps added, some what hurriedly, “ not having a thousand pound in a box—they take thought for her. And as concerning the young pairs, mar ried and unmarried, it’s only natural 1 should bring home what little I can about than, seeing that there Is not a Couple of either sort In the neighborhood that don’t come of their own accord to confide in Ehmbe,” the raised her eves triumphantly to Bar box Brothers, as she said,—* “Indeed, sir, that U true. If I could hare got up and gone to church, I don’t know ' how often I should have been a bridesmaid. Ent If 1 could have done that, some girls in love might have been jealous of me, and as lb is, no girl Is jealous of me. And my pillow would not have been half as ready to put the piece of cake under, as I always hod it,” she added, turning her lace on it with a light sigh, and a smile n her father. The arrlva l . ■' a little? girl, the biggest of the scholars, * ~.w ledto an understanding on the part of Barbox Brothers, that she was the domestic of the cottage, and had come to take active measures In it, attended by a pail that might have extinguished her, and » broom three times h**r height. He therefore rose to take bis leave, and took It, saying that If Phcehe had no objection, he would come again. Be had muttered that be would come “in the course of his walks.” The course.uf his walks must have been highly favorable to bis return, for he returned alter an interval of a single day. “Ton thought yon would never see mo any more. 1 suppose 1” be said to Pbosbe as touched her hand, and sat down by her couch. “Why should*l think so!” was her sur prised rejoinder. • “ I took it for granted you would mistrust me.” I i