MY BABY'S FEET. Within Ig palm, like rose leaves, dainty sweet 1 fold, with tenderest love, two little feet: Two little feet, twin flower ets, come to bring To mother's heart the first sweel breath of spring, Weariod with play. at last they lie af rest. One satin sole weainst is fair mate pressed, Dear little leet, fain would this hand ¢'er shield Thy terder flesh fiom: thorns which lie con cealed Along the path that, stretchiig through the years, 3 Leads on to God throngh joy and silent tears, O! would that 1 could pluck fiom thy dear WAY White er militg tempt those litte feet to stray, What, though my hands be torn by thorn and stone, The joy for all my putin would soon atone; 11 but thy mother planned thy If e for thee, No other path us bright »s thine should be, But what am 1, that 1 my love should count Greater than that of Hun who is love's fount— Who sent ont Heaven these dainty baby feet To make thy mother's love and life complete? What truer hand than His could mark thy path? What greater Jove than God, thy Father hath? What greater wisdo.. stield thee from ll strife? What greater mercy grant eternal hfe? When shadows cotie amid clouds obscure thy Way, He knows that da: kness only horalds day. If bruised thy flesh, though mother's heart may jevd, He, in his merey, knows thy greatest need. Then, little feet, though wother's prayers must rise In love and trust. that never doubt implies, That Goa thy steps may lead in ways Atight, And keep thy sou! from sin’s unholy blight, 1'll leave thy fuiure in His hands alone, And know, st last, he'll bring thee safely home, ~ Religious Herald. A STORY OF A STAR. EDITH ABELL. In her little white bed, hung with pretty lace curtains, lay Ethel listeniug to a song her mumma sang as she put the nursery in order for the night. She left the curtains open that Ethel might look out and see the stars and the moon before sue fell asleep. Ethel liked the moon best, but it was not al- wuys in the sky at night for her to see, but the dear little stars were always there unless it rained, and they were so bright, and they winked so funny— just like Uncle Harry when he played with her and told her merry stories. Ah, if she conld only reach them! Ever since she had first seen a star she had wished to get near enough to it to touch it, to could have a star. f i | full of costly toys, bnt they were not like the stars had brought one of the meteors to play with, It must be such a pretty toy. never had one.” “Well,” said Venus, looking around, “I think perhaps this room is rather sma’l to have a real good time with ore. You sce they fly pretty far, and got 1.8t, and then if some boy found it 16 would have fo put it back in the sky, and perhaps he wouldnt know how to get up there." Ethel thought that was quite likely. She asked Venus then if she should be somhe warm night when there were a great many meteors and carry her up to the great fields where the stars and Aunt Cassiopeia were, and let her play with them all. Venus said, ‘Yes, if she could walk along the path, but it was only just wide enough for her feet and Ethel might fall over.” “What do you do, Venus, dear, when there is a dreadful thunder storm?" : +0,” replied she, ‘‘there’s nothing we like better than thunder storms; they are our firoworks. You see the wrong side of them, but we see the right side and they are very handsome —better than those you have on the Fourth of July. We always have them on our birthdays and on holidays.” “And where do you go day times? I pever see you then,” said Ethel. “Well, Aunt Cassiopeia puts some of to bed, though some of us go. round on the other side of the world to see our cousins aud relations there, We don’t have as good a time as we used to have, because a great many men have taken long things they call telescopes and are always staring hard at us. We don’t like 1t at all.” “I shouldn't like it either. I'm sure I couldn't play it men stared at us when we ron about the garden.” Here Venus began to look uneasil around her. ‘Dear Ethel,” she said, “1 think daybreak 1s near, 1t is grow- ing so light, and 1 musn’t lose my path home; it will all fade away in the sun- shine and I shall get lost here.” And other night. She slid throngh the window and Poor little Ethel grieved to lose her friend “Venus, dear, dear Venus, come back tome!” She cried so hard she awoke and found herself! lying in * and go to sleep.” Then she laid face beside Etuel’s and both smd “Our Father,” and “Goa bless papa and mamma;’ “and thestars, "Ethel always only her parents. mamma had the blessing on “What does my little girl want?” said her mamma, Ethel tried to tell her about Venus and her visit, but fell asleep again be- night, There was n- thing Ethel liked better than being told stories. out of the window at her iriends, the What pleasant little friends they were! She thought she must talk to them and tell them some stories; they might then come near enough to hear her. that she had heard her mother eall Venus. It was gather a pretty name, Ethel thought. Bo she began: Venus came nearer, so as to hear Ethel better. She seemed to be walk- ing down a very long, nurrow and shin- ing path and the nearer she came the prettier she looked. She was even prettier than mamma, only she hadn't that nice smile mamma had. Her dress was yellow and her hair was yel- She came right in through the window, which she didn’t open. Ethel thought that was very queer. She couldn't go fhrgugh any window that was shut And she didn't think she wanted to try, because pussy, who became frightened one day, went through the glass and broke it, and she cut her dear liftle pink nose. Now Venus didn't break the glass and she didn’t hurt her pretty nose either; that was very strange, Ethel thought. : Ethel sat up in her crib and stretehed out her hands to Venus: “0, you déar lovely, bright Venus!” she cried. “I have wished for you so long, and now yon have really come down to play with me and tell me all about yourself, haven't you?" Venus nodded and shook out her golden hair. ‘‘Dear Ethel,” she said, “I know all your thoughts up there in the sky, snd when a nice quiet might came, 1 said I would come down and chat with you. I wish you could go back with me. We stars have such a nice time! We play (that's when you e us twinkle) and we dance with the cuda-_you can see us rush along with them, can’t you? And we make chains of tiny little stars that we catoh as they fly by. Your folks eall them meteors, but that's not at all a pretty name for our toys.” “0, yes,” said Ethel, “I know those are the stars that fly along and go out.” i “No,” said Venus, “they don’t go out. We catch and hide them from each other, and such fun we have find- ing them! But we éaunot always have them. Some summer nights when 1t is very hot we find ever so many.” “I thought those were fire-flies,” said Ethel. “No, they are our star balls, and there is a time in winter when we have to put on our mittens and play. But we oan always play ball with them; they have rough, ight edges that don't hurt and we catch them easier than you do your balls, Aunt Cassi. opeis, who doesn't leave ber chair looks after us, and she is very kind an holds us in her lap if we fall down and hurt ourselves, but we don’t fall often. We had a nice, dear little play-mate, one of the little Pleiades gitls. She fell down, little thing, and slipped through a bole in the sky, snd we've never found her since, though Uncle ri has hunted everywhere for her.” “Per said Ethel, “sue tumbled down ou the earth and some nice little gitl bh # her tor a playmete,” \ “0, uo,” sail Veuns, “we all know how to get back from bere, and besides, we should see her here; we have such right eyes We can ree grory ove." “Venus,” said Etbel, “I wish you pretty crib, drew the window curtains Venus's Little path was quite gone when she looked, but she saw her up in the sky the next night, and she fancied Ag- Stamina san AI RIS Exact and Truthful. Tommy is a very literal boy. He 1s quite capable of *‘standing on the burn- ing deck,’ like that other lad who in- terpreted a command according to the letter of the law, until he should be “Don’t take off your rubbers Tom. my,” said his mother one morning, as lawn, and that night when she returned from her visit, and looked into Tom- my's room, a strange sight met her gaze. The new Casabianca was fast asleep in his little bed, and from be- neath the clothes were sticking two black feet bedanbed with mud. Tommy had not taken off his rab- bers! How was it ible to corrupt so obedient a chald telling him that he should have used Ris. judgment? 1t 1s well understood in the family that the children are not to eat cake. Tommy, visiting at an aunt's, remem- bered this on the first morning of his stay. “Will you have a piece of Johnny cake?” asked Aunt Laura “T can't if you call it that,” said he, honestly. “I'm not ailowed to eat cake, but 1 could if you named it corn bread.” One morning the little boy's mother chanced to touch his hand, and was surprised to find if icy cold. “Why, Tommy!" said she, beginning to chafe it. “Are your feet like this?” fingers on 'em, and more meat, all like it, mamma!” A Happy and Favored Spider. Far up in the corner of my room is a big black cobweb, and a big black spider dwells therein. He has dwelt there quite a year now, and although many suttepiitiona feminine glances of horror at the wretched housekeeping of some people steal ap to that corner my happy spider is never disturbed. I think he almost loves me now; he comes down often, dropping inch by ineh, by a thin golden thread, and he runs rap- idly and twinkling-legged over my table and papers, pausing for moments at a time to look at me with bright, un- winking eyes and motionless body. Hapul, happy fellow! He has his health, spirits, and hs home with a tiny sweetheart locked therein, where no covetous eyes may find her, What more could he ask to make him happy? But one day--ah, mel--some one will come into this room with an alert aye for cobwebs and a strong hand to remove them, and then--then—when he is homeless and friendlessand hope- less my spider may understand how right down good 1 was to him. ss His Possum est Mother Bobby, the teacher sends word to me that you are a very bad boy. You don’t learn your lessons, and you are late at und you whisper and play d hours. Now, what shall I with Mother "Yes, Bobby, you are.” Bobby —W ani it you've ot to do with me, ova Rotor oie as 70 cirous. I know seven other very wicked boys who are going.” THE INDIAN CONGRESS. COMPOSED OF HINDOO, MAHOME- TAN AND PARSEE, National Aspirations — The Pundita Bamabai Speaks For Hindoo Women. The recent National Congress of India held its sittings in an immense tent at Byculla, one of the northern precincts of the lordly city of Bombay. A huge canvas admitted more than 4000 persons to its grateful shade. The interior was arranged like an amphi- theatre, with crimson hangings, and the columns of support were decorated with red, green aud gilt. Here in éon- centric rows sat thousands of native people, their red, white, pink ‘and purple turbans, with here and there the gilded turbans of Makometan or the black hat of a Parsee, with the many white garments, made a most picturesque scene, Tha dark faces were full of intelligence and aglow with enthusiasm. And the Hindu or Mahometan or Parsee of such an as- semblage as is the ‘‘chosen of the people” is an exceedingly handsome man, particularly if he wear his native dress. Expectancy was at its highest pitch, when, precisely at the hour appointed, a little band of men was seen making its way through the aisle at the right, preceded by a long line of nshers with gilt rods. Here were Sir William Wedderburn, who had come from England to preside cver the congress; Mr. Hume, its promoter; and Charles Bradlaugh, M. P., who has earned the title, through his advocacy of meas- ures for the benefit of this country, of «Member for India,” and who is now a revered visitor to this people. There was clapping of hands, waving of handkerchiefs and hearty English hur- rahs from Hindu throats, as the Eng- their seats. Confusion there was none ing or shuffling of feet, a fact explain- ed by the reason that everybody was barefoot. The proceedings opened with a pa- triotic address by the chairman of the reception committee, Mr. Pherozesha Mehta, a Pasree, and a most eloquent speaker. He referred to the political bonds which hold together such a di- versity of peoples in the grea. Ameri- republic, and expressed the belief that the people of India were also ‘ton the way to a common national exis- tence.” He was followed by a Ma- hometan gentleman, who had a most peculiar and amusing fashion of shriek- ing his empha-iz in long senlencs, standing on one foot while he did so, aud giving a jump at the end, but who On ention, although he reminded one of nothing so much as a grain of parch- ing corn. The Mahometan was fol lowed by a Brahmin (the highest Hin- calling Sir William Wedderburn to the chair. Thus three nationalities had their representation, to be followed by the fourth, and tue excellent address of Sir William. Day by day it grew warmer while the congress lasted, and the pretty crimson hangings on the outside of under the hot sun. From the first the English residents of Bombay were conspicuous by their absence, and the Times of India tried in vain to prove that represented. Day by day, however, the delegates came up fresh and clear in their snowy garments as though no | the extreme heat. On the last after- noon, when enthusiasm was high, con- | tributions began to flow in for the ex- penses of maintaining the Congress. | Forty-five thousand rupees were asked for, but bag after bag of silver was brought up by excited delegates, pr. mise after promise given, until a glittering pile of silver coins Jay on the floor and a rough who had every year supplied deficits | from his own purse, tried to thank | the audience, when for fifteen min. utes he was unable to say a word, the cheering was so hearty and prolonged. { In the social conference there was | much discussion about the postpone- | ment of the murriageable period for | girls to the age of twelve years; also disfigurement of a widow by shaving her head before the age of eighteen, and then only with her full consent. Here was an opportunity for the Pun- dita Ramabai (a recent visitor to the United States), whose work for the education of widows is gradually growing in public esteem. As the lit- tle white-robed figure rose in the great crowd, men eagerly crowded forward to get within reach of her voice, and there was considerable confusion. As soon as quiet was restored, the soft voice was heard to say, “It is not at all strange, my countrymen, that my voice 11 small and weak, since this is the first time a woman has been al- lowed to exercise her voice among you.” As the laughter subsided, she went on earnestly, making a motion that the ng the head be limited to $3, i a £ v to their husbands as bow-strings.” There was much amusement and cheer- ing at her naive way of putting the widow's case before them, and not a few were moved to tears as she affect- ingly described the sufleriag of her unfortunate sisters, Pundita Ramabai is a unique figure in thig stirring community of Bombay, and there is no doubt, if her ifs be spared, that she will live in history as one of the great reformers ot the wge, as she is one of its most women. ple is rather peculiar; because of her change of faith the orthodox Hindoo fears and distrusts her. He is inclined to associate all kinds of chicanery aud deceit with the adherents of Christiani- ty. The native Cauristian, with the English or American missionary, en- tertains the same feeling, because her methods are not his methods, and be- cause she does not shure his contempt for her ancestral religion. The educated men of the Hindoos, however, treat her with great respect ~—by the educated, meaning the more advanced. At the close of her address before the Social Conference, frieads and strangers crowded around her, and one man sald to her, “I have given up my religion, will you tell me of yours?” It is not uncommon, either, for her to be revereutly approached by some one, with hands pressed together at his forehead, in token of the highest rev. erence. The American people are fa- miliar with her remarkable career, which promises even greater things in the future; but there isa strong wall it can only be done by ‘simple living, on a lofty level.” i Poultry-Yard Police eal Gardens among a very varied sortment of birds, are a pair of caria- mas, says the London Daily News. something the look of the secretary vuliure, as they per- ambulate their cage ina dignified fash- jon: at intervals they startle their neighbors by uttering a series of pierc- ing shricks, which seem quite uncall- ed for, and do not appear to be pro- duced by any cause, except sometimes by a spirit of 1ivalry, equally loud screams of the bird which lives ig an adjoining cage, and is appropriate-ly named “the Scream- ar.” A= both birds hail from Sonth Amer jca they probably have had many friendly contests for supremacy, and the visitor as he retires deafened by too close proxim- ity fo the cage will be quite unable to decide which has the loudest voice. The eaniama is one of those birds which does not fit into any system; some ornithologists look upon it ass crane, while to others it seems to have an. unmistakably hawk-like appear- ance; finally, its name, which is more properiy, and perhaps therefore more rarely, written scems signify ‘little Rhea.” There is thus a wide fie d for specn- lation about the relations of the caria- sna, which are at the best only very distant, It is indeed, a very * friend- less” bird, and the most careful search into the fossil bird remains of South America bas failed to bring to light any ancestral form which might give a clue to its affinities, Though probably of ancient and re- spectable descent, its origin remains a mystery. The cariama is so far unlike a hawk that it has the greatest dislike This feeling, irovoked by I 3 another Ol ¥ such tigoriema,” to quickly steps in between the rival lov- tion of the quarrel by a series of pecks directed mpartialiy at the heads of both. " w— wr" A Disgusted Count. Count Gleichen's “Twelve Hours in York” is a brief but delicious page in the diary of that humorous ob- server. sec the beauties of that city, who declined to take his bag in for The colored servants seemed equally sapercilious. As he was not sleeping at the hotel he was told that a Anglice cloak-room, eased him of a quarter of a dollar for taking care of his bag. The Count then went in an omnibus mn one-horse one—to Central! Park, which be describes as a weird-loosin «piece of wooded ground, intersec by which run up and down and underneath artificial hills and rockeries and you are forbidden to go on the grass.” The pavement, the policemen, and the post-boxes nailed to telegraph les amazed Count Gleichen. He rank at the Hoffman House bar, amd went back to the M tan for dinner, where, on the principle of eat- ing foreign food in foreign lands, he © clam soup, pumpkin pie, hom- iny, buckwheat cakes, sweet y Yor} nasty wild turkey and cranberries. ® then went to s Theatre and paid a dollar and » for ten utes’ drive to the Britannic. Count Gleichen, who had turned from Canada, TITLES GIVEN TO THE NATION'S CHIEF EXECUTIVES, Washington “The American Oincin- patus.” “Independence Forever” Adams, “The American Cincinnatus!” This grand appellation was the sole pseudonym that the American people ever found suitable to the traits and characteristics of George Washington, the first President of the United States. Mr. Thackery attempted to furnish material in a certain portrait which he has drawn of Washington, for a nick- name of another sort, much less digni- fied, but the popular canonization, even in England, of the great man had too long before begun, and the hints of the satirist were universally rejected. The fondness for designating each President of the United States by some name supposed to be appropriate by the public was not developed until Washington had gone to the silent, un- discovered country, John Adams called himself “a Pres- ident of three votes.” He was known long after his death by a certain title which he also supplied himself indi- | rectly. On the morning of the 30th of June, 1826, an individual who was chosen to | give the oration of the Fourth of July | at Quincey, John Adams’s home, called at the house of Mr. Adams and asked him to propose for him a subject as a patriotic toast, to be drank after the oration. “] will give you one, the noblest you could choose,” said the philosophic President, forgetting for the nonce the restraint and frigid dignity of his manner: “Independence forever!” The words were reported in the slow way of the time, but the people, soon as the phrase came to their ears, applied it at once as appropriate to the philosophic grandeur of the characte of John Adams, No one ever presumed to think of a nickname tion with the name of Jefferson, notwithstandis as In CoOnned is his sim- tv enlogized as i greatest foe of : fa- rat pli demo { flenily, the undue iliarity in the world He himself lants, and gave them + but none ever dared 1 baptized his names to suit ie al fancy } 1 classi to dab him with a nickname. Madi ver known of Jeffer. it James ROTI WHE IH it the least ROT # family,” as WHS called. James Monroe known 45 8 man of such purity and simplicity, his man- Was ners were so touchingly complaisant and appealing, that he won friends and not a single enemys No one ever had the heart to designate him by any dis- respectful name. John Quincey Adams was called, al- most from the beginning of his politi- cal career, “Tribune of the i : “Columbus” and <Publicola” were other names that were given him by the people . Neither Jackson nor Van Buren were given distinctive names, but Jackson's great victory at New Orleans People.’ have been preserved to go down to posterity with the fame of their posses- SOT. President Taylor was never known by any other name than Zach.” It seemed to his countrymen to convey a persistence of the man. General Pierce was called Frank. His qualities were negative—a great virtue in a President of the Republic. President Pierce had a peculiarly un- felicitous manner in making promises. Any one who came to him was sure to be told that he should receive just what | he ssired in the WAY of office. Possi- | bly "the name Frank, short, insignifi- cant, gave just the meaning necessary to express the estimate formed by the | people of thelr president. President Buchanan | known ““ Buck,” “Bucky,” and “Breck,” a happy reference to Mr. Breckinridge, were familiar and oft. repeated words in the fifties, General William Henry Harrison's | appellation, “ Tippecanoe,” is immor- was always As | tal. A reflected immortality belongs to the hyphenated name given to Presi- dent Tyler. Abraham Lincoln had many nick- names: they were given by different classes of the citizens of the United States. They were homely, most of them, but they all possessed one great Homeric propriety ~ appropriateness power of definition. The man was one of the people, grander in intellect than most of them, but of such simplicity and soundness of heart that his fellow-countrymen had no difficulty in choosing names to express their appreciation of his genius by familiar means. “rover” and “Sire,” the one un- due familiarity of the people, the other reverently applied by Mr. Cleve- land’s celebrated private secretary were the titles under which the ex-President most often appeared before the public daring his administration, President Harrfeon has been supplied with a nickname by the citizens and and youth, especially of the city of Now York, ; «White Wings” is the psendon PI dom olidy WH Ty Its ap in tion is obscure, unless it is to be ined as descriptive, figuratively, of s extreme pallor Our Paris Letter. Long hive summer! When we think of the many and var. jed pleasures which this season brings to us, not the least of which is the grand opportunity of displaying our many charming and elegant costumes, we can truthfully echo the above err; but at the same time we hastily stifle a sigh of regret as the thought quickly follows, that the rummer 18 now on the wane and will goon be counted among the pleasurzs to be remembered, not to be anticipated. White costumes, not alone of mus lins, silks and cottons, but also of wool materials are in great favor and uni- versally worn. They will sontinue to be a la mode till late in the fall and even then, so popular are they, they will not be en- tirely abandoned. All grey colors, especially those of the clear dove tint so greatly loved by artists, still stand high ip favor not only for house, but fete, coaching and driving costumes. Silver and steel passementerie have been used in trim- ming these soft aesthetic grays, but now white is chosen in silk mull, mars. bout, braid and Jace borders. An elegant costume of silver grey, made by one of our leading houses for a garden fete, had a round skirt em- broidered on the bottom of the left side with a boquet of jessamine flowers tied with a white ribbon. The corsage was draped in pleats soross the chest, and fastened under the left arm in a man- ner completely invisible. On the left side of the corsage, near the shoulder, was embroidered another boquet of jessamines. Around the waist was a small sash pleated in the centre of both back sad front. The sleeves were of white faille, very | full on the shoulder, but not so high as | they have been worn. The fullness of | the sleeves, or rather their height, was | laid over the shoulder so that it com- | pletely covered it, almost to the neck. I'his style of mounting the s'eeve is | quite new and has a very original ef- fect, cme that will not, we imagine, be much employed A carnage dress of white crepon was very simply made; the slgrt was plain and finished with three narrow rows of gold galloon studded with jet nails, the lowest row of galloon being placed close to the bottom edge of the skiri waist The corsage was gathe red at old galloon, like that and a band of on the skirt only broader, encircled the waist, A collaretis of white « rej linge fell over the shoulders, headed by the same gslloon, three rows of which | trimmed the white silk sleeves at the waist, The eapote, which accompanied this costume, f the was formed of three bands of gold galloon studded with jet, and a fourth band passed from side to mde | beneath the chin; the garniture was two f black plomes, one placed in front, the other in the back. I'he psrasol was of white silk with in- | sorted medallions of lace and finshed on the edge with a deep flounce of | white lace. Jackels are very much worn here this season; the newest models have | tight fitting backs, and straight fronts | to be fastened or left open at will, in | which case the insides of the fronts, | forming revers when opened, are lined | with fancy silk, or are embroidered or | braaded, These jackets were mentioned in our { last Pari: letter. They are made in fine black cloth, al- | though grey in the soft, dark shades is much sought for, Among the most stylish jackets, are those having the sleeves and revers ornamented with | fancy embroidery. Military cloth is generally used for these. There is still such a demand for the sailor hat that milliners are employing them for dress bats, using the simple, Jow-crowned shapes for delicate cre- stions in black nets and shirred tulle. Black lisse on invisible wire in sailor shape, and trimmed with folds and {loops of lisse, gold enterie, blackbirds, and long, gold pins. Cream-colored straw hats have bands of gold or silver galioon with clusters of white ostrich tips and fancy jeweled pins as ornaments. For garden fefes, are found dainty sailor hate of cream-White crepe shir- | red on gold wires, with loo of the | crepe and pleat.ngs of gold lsce as | garniture. | The fashion now is to knot the hair. | It is drawn upon the crown of the head, | tied invisibly, parted and knotted ina | double Grecian or Alsatian bow. This arrangement is very pretty and beoom- | ing to most all faces. The almost in- | visible fringes of fine, soft, naturally | curly hair worn on the forehead, are | extremely light, not injurious, and re- quire only a few tiny pins to fasten them securely to the natural hair. Frrion Lest, clinsiers « snufiers. “Here burns my candle out.” them bloom; silver snuffers, particularly if u were rich sraceries of bud an
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