The Helm or lee. Honied from the chill of • frozen deep. The toe-king spoke with corse* deep, And bade the bittereit north wind blow Down from the realm of eternal mow. Down from the home of the ioe end froet, Where eilenoe reigni and life ii loet, The north wind came at the king'* command, With ipeed. and bate and a crnel hand. He farrowed the MM with froeen foam. And mocked the mariner'* dream of home. Of wife and child and eweet raroeaee From strife and storm In a port of peace. On slippery deck, with stitTnlng sail. The teamen saw the gathering gale. And, freeaing, stood by the toy mast. • Palsied and dead in the spell of the blast. Down from the realm of the frigid sea, Belentlens, and oold, and cruel came he, To oast his corse o'er the land of rest. Where hearts are warm and home* are blest. The traveler, tracking his homeless way. Begging for bread In the storm that day, fell frozen and dead in the toy air, km the mocking wind denied hi* prayer. The widow shrank with shivsriug dread Prom his icy couch, in her chilly bed, And her heart stood still in the oold embrace Of that speotral fiend with the fatal face. His enrse was fierce at the homes Of the poor; Bat the rich in their pelaoee bolted the door, And laughed him to scorn, as he hastened sway To visit the wretched ones over the way. The woes of the wretched were carried back To the bitter north on the wtnd s wild track, And the ice-king, touched with the old desire Of power supreme over best and fire. Prophetic spoke in the frigid blest: " The human race most end at last, Dsapita their pride and their faithteas prayers, Their selfish schemes and worldly cares. 11l crush their hope* with eudlea* death ; I'll chill their hearts, congeal their breath I'll freeze for aye this wicked earth Prom central fire to outer girth ; Their farms shall be bat frozen land; Their ships be locked in toy strand; Their cities, filled with woo and ice, Shall lifeless stand in lifelaae toe , The long-complaining waves shall he Peaceful and still on the frozen sea ; The ocean, chained from shore to shore. Shall boast his mighty strength no more The reign of Justice I'll renew, And baniih all the selfish crew, Whose sin, and shame, and quick, desire Find food and life in beat and fire." At war with life, and scorning prayer His corse is now in the bitter air. The ground is clad for the grava to-day And, should no power the toe-king stay. A wail of woe and wild despair Would strike the unrelenting air ; Voiceless and oold. the earth would roll, A lifeless orb, with frozen soul. OF COURSE! " Gwendolen I " from Mr*. Olivia Glemnoreland's sanctum. " Jessie I" from Mr. Gerald Glen more-land's studio. " Yea, ma'am—yea, air,** from the pretty little maid coming np the stair*. She stops a moment when she reaches the landing, aa thongh considering which aammona to auawer first, and an ahe pauses, a handsome young man leans over the balnster and looks down npon her, and aa he looka he think < he never gamed upon a prettier picture. A alight, graceful young girl, with serious, dark eyes, delicately-cut features, clear pale face, and light wavy brown hair, showing little apecka of gold aa the sunlight falls through the hall window upon it, parted simply on the low, broad brow and rippling away behind the lovely ears until lost in the heavy Ore cian coil at the back of the small round head; in a closely-clinging dress of soma soft, dark material, with a knot of Krnet ribbon at the throat, and a sister fit on each lace trimmed pocket of the dainty white apron. "Ob! I say, Brown eves," he calls out, cheerily, as the girl, becoming con scious of hia presence, looks np with a smile, " will yon pose for me 1" "As soon as I can, Mr. Denys," she replies, in a voice aofter and sweeter, but as frank and cheery as his own. "Yonr father and mother have both called me. I mnst attend to them first" And as the handsome head is withdrawn, she enters the room on the right, which one can see at a glance ia the den of a sculptor; and a cculptor who, if it be true that "good order la the foundation of all good things," can never hope to attend any wondrous height in his pro fession. Half-finished statuettes ami busts, dilapidated arms, legs, and torsos in clay, plaster and marble, are standing and lying abont in the greatest oonfn ■ion. Over Sbakspeare's dome-like fore head droops a brood-brimmed hat; from the throat of a dancing fann stream the long ends of a silken neck-tie; and a flower girl offers with her flowers a pair of crumpled kid gloves sod a soiled col lar. The sculptor himself—an odd-look ing man with wildisb black eyes, and a massive head oovered with a tangled mass of the darkest cnrls, a gray thread gleaming here and there—attired in a blouse, the back of which alone given a hint of its original color, is regarding with critical gase a half-modeled bust on the table before him, wbioh in turn regards him with the blank stare pecu liar to its kind. "Ah ! there yor. are," he says, ap provingly, as Jeasie comes quietly in. "It is well. I want yonr nose, my child. Tit just the nose for Elaine. Couldn't find a better if I searched the wide world o'er. Stand over there by Hercules—that's a dear—and look sit Mepbintopheles." Ami be commences to sing in a strong if not altogether mu sical voice the "Gold Hong" from " Faust," aa the voice from the oppo site room calls again, " Gwendolen. " Can yon spare my nose a little while, sir ?" asks the model, still look ing steadily at the pinning tempter in the eorncr, bat with a gleam of mischief in her bonme brown eyas. " Mrs. (Henmoreland is calling." "Oh I ah, yes. Gwendolen work ing away. "How long have yon baen Gwendolen t" " For two weeks past, sir. Ever si nee my mistress began * The Priame* and the Dairy Maid.' May I go, sir r* still, best of models, with her ayes fixed on EM fiend. "You may; bntoome beak soon; for kings may die and emperors lose their crowns, but art to deathless and forever nigna," " Y, sir," assenta Jennie, demurely, and tripe away. Mra. Qleomoreland, sitting before her desk, on whioh is piled many aheete of paper oorered with eye-exasperating olnrography, her right nandl nervously waving her pen about, her left graapiug her fluffy fair hair, to its great derange ment, allows the wrinkle of perplexed thought on her brow to melt away as the pretty girl appears. "Gwendolen, my dear, "she exclaims, turning suddenly toward her, and there by soattering the pile of manuscript in every direction, '* I want your ear. She has the moet correct ear "—this to an elderly lady who is sewing indnatrious ly by a small work-table in the center of the room. " Now my prose is excel lent and my poetry not Bad—so lam told ; but sometimoe my rhymes don't rhyme exactly, but that sort of thing is only allowed to the very greatest of poets. I'm introducing a battle-song in the last chapter of my novelette, and I'm in doubt about ' hurrah' and ' war '— ' rah ' and ' war.' Are they twins, or are they not, Gwendolen ?" Hut before Gwendolen, who is on her knees picking up the scattered papers, can reply, somebody comes down the staifs with a rush and bolts into the sanctum. " Mother, I kiss your little ink-stained Angers," he says. " Hnt all the same 1 must have Brownevcs; I want her arm. My grape gatherer is waiting for thrf wherewithal to gather the grapes." "It is—l mean ore they ?" asks Mrs. Glenmoreland, as Jessie puts the manu script on the desk again, and places a paperweight upon it. And then she smiles at her son, ho, after tenderly milling the ruffled hair still mor\ kisses the brow beneath it. " I don't think they are," modestly nnswers Jessie. "Thank*, dear I" And Uie pen ia dipped into the ink again. " And now, Browueyee, yonr arm yonr arm I" cries Deny*, striking a "melodramatic attitude. " I'm afraid yon can't have it just yet- Mr. Deny*. I have promised yonr fa ther my nose for an honr or so," saya Browneyea, dropping a cunning little courtesy. "By Jove ! ia the goveruor at work again ? Ten to one he never finishes it 111 look in on him for a moment or two; he'll turn me out at the end of that time. Bv-by mamma." "I really don't know what we would do without her," says Mr*. Olenmore land, musingly, letting her pen fall and blotting the sheet before her aa the young people vanish. "Meaning Gwendolen, Browneyea, Jessie, or whatever her name ia?" in quire* the elderly lady (whoby-the-bye, is an aunt of the author's, on a visit to her niece for the first time in fifteen years). " Known as Jersir to her sponsors in baptism,' explains Mrs. Glenmorehuul, " but Deny* ha* always called her Rrowneyes, and I have a habit of giving her the name of my heroine for the time l>eing ; it helps to keep my story in my thoughts. Dear, dear, bow many names the little girl has answered to since she came here four years ago ! And she never objected but to two— * Phantom of Fellow Hill,' and ' flag of Murder Greek.' And I don't much wonder at her not liking them." " Neither do I," says the aunt, with a grim am lie. " But yon have never told me anything alront her. Who ia she ? " " Haven't I ? Well, as I can't take np the thread of my poem—that horrid Deny* f—l'll take up the cat "—lifting a pretty white and black kitten from the floor—"and narrate for yonr eapeeial benefit. Yon know when Gerald and I were first married we were very unprac tical"— "I should think no," interrupt* the elderly lady, with a decisive nod. "One a scribbler of sixteen, the other a sculptor of nineteen." "But dear mamma, with whom we lived," her niece goes on, "mnde life easy for us until nine years ago, when she died. Then for Ore years all was experiment and oonfnaion. At first we tried boarding: but the people with whom we boarded objected to our break fasting at odd moments between eight and twelve, and thought it unreasonable that we ahould expect little suppers at midnight. And, besides, they also complained that Denys—then only twelve, but already developing the ar tistic—used their best saucers, plates, and other things to mix paints on; and when the dear boy borrowed the marble slab of the parlor table for the same meritorious purpose, they became an very violent we were obliged to leaTe. Then we tried furnished rooms; made coffee over the gas in the morning, and dined at the reatanreut in the evening. Bat we were soon obliged to give up this mode of life; the principal rea- on being that the bill of fare proved such a temptation; and to our shame be it said —having the most uncertain of incomes —that when our ventures were suooeaa fnl we weakly succumbed to the tempt er, and ate birds on toast, and broiled chiaken, ami omelette-souffle, and terra pin, and all aorta of expensive good things, aa long as our money lasted, and in consequence were restricted to bread and cheese and dried beef in the priva 3' of oar apartments for a week or more ter. At last, after having dined aurop tnon-lv one day, with a few invited gaests. off a medallion and a three-col umned story, and then beiog obliged to live for two weeks on one short column, we oonoluded to try boarding once more, renting a room at the same time in the Bsphac! building, where Oe*ald could fling hia day and plaster about to bis heart'* content, ami Denys, who would not go to school, and would paint, might be out of the way of the landlady's china. But, my dear aunt* the other fellows were in that stadio from morn till night; ■indeed, several of the most impecunious spent their nights there, and very little work was done." "Then fortunately—that is, not for buddy, but providentially—no, I don't mean that either, but I won't wade time seeking for the proper expression— Ger ald's old nnde died, and left bin this house. 'Let's go to housekeeping,' said I, and we went, Heaven save the mark I 1 never could make change; neither oouldOerdd ; and as few Deny*, be and the arithmetic are and always have been perfect strangers. The re mit of this ignorance could not fail to be an extensive one. Everybody cheat ed us. The servant girls wore my beat dresses to wakes and parties, and one of than had two of her friend* oonoealed in the bonce for three months, waxing strong and stoat on my provisions, and when at last they were discovered, de clared that she never knew they wore there at all at all. " And we were forever in debt, and fast losing onr senses, when my dress maker, a dear, good-hearted English woman, who used to give me advioe, housekeeping advice, in a motherly sort of way, wbioL I would have taken if I oonld have remembered it, died, after a long illneea, leaving a fifteen-year-old daughter. The child looked np at me with those wonderfnl brown eyes when I asked her, after her mothers funeral, * And what will yon do, my dear ?' ana said, ' I don't know ma'am ; I have no relation bnt a grandfather ont West, and he has jnst married again, and I don't think he wants me.' I gave her a kiss, and told her to oome home with me. And she came, and since then life has been more than endurable. Hha proved to be the cleverest little thing that ever lived, intimately aeqnainted with the arithmetic and heaven's first law, and has learned to manage every thing and everybody in the house with marvelous tact and skill. And the man ner in which she understands my absent minded ways and contrary orders is ab solutely wonderful. Who else, for in stance, would know that often when I say 'shorn' I mean' hat,' and] vice vrraat and who else oonld translate ' both dark and white meat and the Chinese, yon know, my dear,' into ' chicken i-?ad and rice padding?' She's a treasure—rhymes like a bird, poses like an angel, and " " Has she no lovers ?" asks the elder ly lady, looking aolemnly over her spectacles. " Lovsrn 1 Bless yon, no. Never the slightest sign of one. Her mother wan an old maid; thst is, she wasn't when—l mean she was before she was married. Lovers! Good gracious I don't speak of such a thing. I should murder them. And I'm quite sure Alicia—the name of my next heroine," she explains, in answer to a questioning look from her aunt "lias never dreamed— Wan that a knock at the door ? If it be Alicia, enter; anybody else, depart immediately." The door opens in obedience to this command, delivered in alond voice with mnch emphaais, and " Alicia " enters with downcast eyes and a black-edged letter in her hand. " I don't want it 1 I won't have it I" almost screams ber mistress. " I hate black letters. Take it away." "It is not for yon, ma'am. It is mine; and—and " (with faltering voice) " I fear I mnst leave yon." " Leave met" shouted Mrs. Glen moreland, starting to ber feet snd dropping the cat, and in ber excitement she seizes the worn garment the elder ly lady has been carefully patching snd darning for the last hoar from that worthy person's hands and rends it from top to bottom. "Leave us 1 What ear yon—what do yon mean ?" " My grandfather has sent for me, ma'am. ILs wife is dead, and he says it is my dnty to come snd live with him, as I have no other relativo in the world." "And you are going?" demands Mrs. Glenmoreland, in tragic tones. " I do not know how to refnae." " Gerald ! Denys I" calls Mrs. Glen moreland, loudly*, running serosa bet room and flinging the door wide open. "Come here instantly." In flies ber husband, a lamp of clay in his hand, and down rushes Deny*, palette on thnmh. " My darling, what's np ?" asks Ger ald. "By Jove I mother, hoe? yon fright ened me I Thought the house was on fire," says her son. " Gwendolen—Jessie Brown eyes Alicia—sua," pointing at the weeping girl, " ia going away, never to return." " Going away 1" repeats her hnsband, striking his head with his right hand, and then stalking wildly abont the room, totally nnconacions that he has left the lump of clay among his raven curls. " Brown eyes leaving us forever," re proachfully cries Deny*. " After I've loved ber all these yearn." sobs Mrs. Glenmoreland. " And I've loved bar all these yearn," say* Mr. Ole.nmoreland. " And I've " begin* Deny*,and then stop* with a blonh that ia reflected in the girl'e sweet face, "Going to her grandfather—horrid old hnnkn ! —who never thought of her before he killed her step- grand mamma, and who only want* her now to sate the expense of hiring a honnakeeper and n trae, which be ia well able to do, the venerable wretch ! And ahe think* it her dnty to go, becanae he'* her ' only relative.' And I'vealwaya felt a* though I were her mother;" and overcome with emotion, Mr*. Olenmorelaod drop* into her chair again. " And I aa though I were her father," aaeerta the aculptor. " And I aa though I were her broth—" aaya the painter, and atop* in oonfuaion a* before. Jea*ic turn* from one to the other with claaped hand* and atreaming eye*. " I shall never, never be aa happy any where aa I have been here. I would have been content to have aerved you all my life. But how oould I reconcile it to my consoienoe if, without aufflciont reason, I diaregarded the appeal of my only relative, and that relative my mother'* father 7" " Rut he needn't be your ' only rela tive '" aaya Deny*, earneatly, flinging hia palette, paint aide down, on hi* mother'* ailken lap, and apringing with one bound to the young girl'* aide. " There oan be other and nearer rela tive* than grandfather*, Browneyea. I never knew how dearly I loved yon till tliia moment. I cannot bear the thought of loaing yon. I want your hand and heart. Take me for your husband, dearest, and them your duty will be to share my fortune* for evermore," Jeaaie, the innooeut child, bold* up her pretty mouth for hia ktaa before them all—the eel ia playing with her grandfather'* letter—and * wonderful smile turn* to diamond* bear team. "The vary thingl" proclaim* Mr. Olenmoraland. "Of oouraa," aaya hia wife. 'Why didn't you think of it before, you thrw acme itoy, and aave all this bother f And now go away, all of you. I have an (ilea for a story." The oouvici'* serenade to the warden: " Bow oan I leave thee?" The WMewer aad the WM. When Mr. Thomas Thompson was oonrting the widow who became his sixth wife, said he, taking a pinch of snuff and looking wise, " I will tell yon what I expect of yon, my dear. Ton are aware that I have had a good deal of matrimonial experience. Ho-hnm I It makes me sad to think of it, and I may truly say that my cup of miaery wonld be rnnning over at this moment if it were not for yon. lint to business. I was about to remark that Jane, my first, oonld make better coffee than any other woman in the world. I trust you will adopt her recipe for the preparation of that beverage.'' "My first husband frequently re marked " began the widow. " And there was Hnsan," interrupted Mr. Thompson, " she was the best mender that probably ever lived. It was her delight to find a button off; and as for rents in ooats snd things, I have seen her shed tears of joy when she saw them, she was so desirous of nsing her needle for their repair. Oh, what s woman Hasan was!" " Many is the time," began the wid ow, " that my first husband " "With regard to Anna, who was mv third," said Mr. Thompson, "I think her forte, above all others, was in the accomplishment of the cake known as slapjack. I have very pleasant visions at this moment of my angelic Anna as she appeared in the kitchen of a frrnty morning, enveloped in smoke snd the morning snnshine that stole through the window, or bearing to my plate a particularly nice article of slapjack with he remark, 'That's the ntoeet one yet, Thomas; eat it while it's hot.' Home times, 1 assure yon, my dear, these re collections are quite overpowering." He applied bis handkerchief to his eyes, snd the widow said, "Oh, yes; I know how it is myself, sir. Many is the time that 1 see in my lonely hours my dear first bus"— "The pride and joy of Julia, my fourth, and I may aav, too, of Clara, mv fifth," interrupted Mr. Thompson, with some spparent accidental violence of tone, "lay in the art of making over their spring bonnets. If yon will be lieve it, mv dear, one bonnet lasted those two blessed women through all the happy years they lived with me—they wonld turn them and make them over so many times ! Dear, dear, what a change fnl world- what an nnhsppy, changeful world I" " I say to myself a hundred times a day, sir," said the widow, with a sigh; "I frequently remarked to my first hna"— " Madam," said Mr. Thompson, sud denly, and with great earnestness, "oblige me by never mentioning that chap again. Are yon not aware that he must be out of the question forever more ? Can yon not see that your con tinual references to him sicken my sonl ? Li t ns have peace, madam—let me have peace 1" " Very well, sir," said the widow, meekly. " I beg yonr pardon, and promise not to do it again,' And they were married, and their lives were as bright and peaceful sa they oonld wish. About Dags, Modern breeders of dogs are not the only people who pnt a high price on them. In Guiana, the Tumura Indians take great care with their dogs, and they are extensively bought and cold. A price of a good one is equal to that of a wife. In South Africa, the Damaras will give two oxen for a good dog. The Pnsgians will, when famished, kill their old women for food rather than their doge—" old women no nae; dogs catch otters." Ho that dogs may be oaid to bring according to what tbey oan fetch. Climate modifies the character of dog* as well as of men. The English bnll dog on its arrival in India can pin down an elephant by its trunk, bnt in two or three generations will fall off, loae his plnck snd ferocity, the form of his lower jaws will change, and he will have a finer mnxzle and lighter body. Dogs have been taught to speak. A French dog oonld call in Intelligible words for tea. coffee, chocolate, etc.; and the dog of a young peasant boy in Bax ony was taught to repeat thirty words. Two famons Italian uogs, Fidelio and Blanche, were tanght to spell 300 words by means of a printed alphabet on cards, to do snma in arithmetic, and to play a game of cards together. Monsignore Capcl, of England, it is said, has a dog which will salute the portrait of the pope and turn bis back on Bismarck; while a dog in New England was tanght daring the war to bowl and gnash his teeth at the word rebellion, and jump and wag his tail when the Union was mentioned. Dogs have given so many proofs of their ability to reason and to show signs of remorse, shame and sensitiveness to ridicule, that no one longer disputes their capacity, A dog in Pari*, being frequently sent with a nate by hia mas ter to get meat at the butcher *, one day conceived the idea of obtaining Home on his own account. Be therefore picked up a piece of paper and camel it to the butcher, and wa* apparently ao ashamed at the failnre of hi* ruse that he would never go near the shop again. Another Pari* dog, perceiving that the visitor* at a benevolent soup-house merely rang a bell and had a dish of food set out for (hem, without their being seen, sprang up, rang the bell with hia fore pew*, re oeived hia dish, and net down to devour it at his leisure. Thia waa such a suc cess that be repeated it several times before be waa discovered, as he always look care to go when no one was there; after which they gave him a ticket, and he went regularly for hia dinner with the other beggar*. Ceiuage ef the Dulled State* Mint, The first silver ooined In the United BUte* waa in 1793. Up to 1877 there bud been ooined, in different denominations, aa follows: Dollar*.. g 8,044.ra* 00 Half -dollar* 119, *l9 MO fiO Qaartar-dollare 94,774.181 60 gttwe. 14.14 V 7*B 90 Half-dim** 4,994,944 90 Three-mat pieces t,941,840 99 9994,979 99140 During 1878, coined: Standard dollars 9 9.6T1W0 04 •motional seta 8,949,816 80 Tetel 9994.746,1egan to swell all at once until it was as large as a barrel. We could see that about two i thirds of this part was under water ai j he kind of foiled in the waves, and one ! third was out of water. We oonldn't see ! any of the rest of him." " How long to yon think the serp;nt was ?" " Well, now, you guess, and I'll I guess, and I'll gneas that be oonldn't i have been less than thirty feet." The reporter guessed twenty feet more, jndging from the size of the head i and body, and Capt. Dalton thought that the serpent might well be fifty feet ! 'ect long. He hail put the leng'tb at i the smallest figure he could conacien ! tiouily. "In what way did he disappear?" was next asked. " Well, after he had kept his eye on ns for abont a quarter of a minnte. he , dipped his head into the water and went . down (Capt. Dalton wriggled his nam! alowly toward the floor) with a kind of easy, waving motion." "And didn't his tail rise ont of water when bis bead went down ?" " No, because be was a snake." " Why not, because he was a snake ?" " Mnakea, yon mnst understand, have no fins. They have to move themselves I with their tails, so that if their tails get ont of water they are lost. He had to ; keep his tail nnder. If it had been a j shark or a porpoise, it wonld have showed its tail for certain. This is a j demonstration. I've seen lots of sharks ! and porpoises and all kinds of sea crea tures in my travels all over the globe, snd I know that this was a snake. And then them's another thing. I've read in the Sun that on Friday, August 24, j 1877, a serpent rose np ont of the Sonnd abont twenty feet, and was bigger round than a barrel, at this very spot that is j near Captain's island lighthouse. It hissed and roared. A few clays afterward '■ Capt. Wicka, the two men at the wheel, sod others oa the steamer Bridgeport felt her bit something on bar star board quarter. It shook the whole boat. William Gamble, the deck watchman, heard something like a bias and a bark, and then something black rose up as high as the flagpole and went down again. That was jnst off of Captain's island, too; and last summer, jnst about the same place, it was seen again by somebody else." Ospt. Dalton drew a picture of the animal he had seen with the reporter's pencil. In constructing the eye be first drew a large round cipher and aoonred it all black with the point of toe pencil. Ilia two stalwart son*, who constitute his two mates ami the crew, corroborate every word of their father's story. Chinese Canals, The Egyptians oat many annals ; ana this simple method of promoting in ternal communication is of unknown an tiquity. In China oan Is appear* to have been one of the earliest evidence* of eiviliaattao. The " Great Canal "in that conntiy is a memorable example of this clam of engineering exploits. It in said to have occupied a hundred and twenty years in its construction, and to have given employment to thirty thou sand men, occupying the entire four teenth century. It la about on# thou sand miles in length ; and in supplied by a great number of streams from the flat conn try through which it flows. Hlrong dykes, formed of alternate layera of earth and straw, and sometimes eased with stems, prevent the water from over flowing the flat oountry. In same ports the canal in carried oa an embankment twenty feet high, while on others it teasst— a cutting a hundred Cant deep. (MpiiK ■ Mary. If by a diary h intended a collection of vapid or flat verbiage, supposed to be reflections or "sentiments,* 1 or the record of fancied feelings, or morbid imaginings. or vain attompta to imitoto the reputed journal* of voting women in novels, it were, indeed, better left alone. Bat if aa a guide to memory a person makea a habit of preserving (latea, even of ooourrenoea apparently of little oonse qtienoe, the record at the end of the year may be discovered to be quite a useful guide to memory, and the aouree of a good fund of interesting conversa tion. Association will connect with the eutriea so made many occurrences not among those written at the time, but which afterward grew into more oonae qnence ; and also with many thoughts and impression* of real aerviee which, when recalled by association, may as sume a new and prominent interest. Doubts and inquiries about dates and facta can be settled by some such pro cess aa this : " I know Uiat it was be { (ore Much or anch a thing that I wrote or did." The simplest notes and bars dates in the diary may thus become | series of landmarks - stokes planted in the survey of the past. The reoeipt of i letters aud the daks on which letters [ arc written ; calls, lonfereocea, engage ments, visits, journeys and a thousand I other things, sncb aa booka read, books ; bound, booka borrowed or bought, I stories begun or ended, pleasant even ings at home or abroad, parties attend ed, amusements, sermon* beard, all I make material for entries, which, if ! nothing better presents, will constitute a capital aid to " mnemonics," aa the 1 science of memory used to be called. That science, as taught in formal treatises, included a paraphernalia of words and things which are harder to recollect than the matters which they are apposed to preserve. In the diary thi* machinery of memory, being writ ten out in order, does its work without the formidable labor imposed by " arti ficial memory," as it was .railed. It works by mental photographs upon tha memory of " what is writ" ID bu*ina* matter* the necessary purely mercantile record* greatly aid in the recollection* of other thing* quite apart from them. Among the beet and clearest wilnewtes in court are men of bnemeaa. Their head* are kept clear by the record* of the date* of their transaction*. The private diary extends this convenience, and creates a sort of aocial bookkeeping. Under the date rated and printed aomething for every day mar be put down, no matter how bn flv. It may be a mere record of the Mate of the weather. It i* not neoea *ary, or even desirable, that each day should record a wonder; for thia, be coming common, wonder* would cease ; vet any day'a entry may furnish a useful hint when least expected ; and all of them together will certainly constitute an interesting fund of topics for borne con venation and review, no matter how plain the recorded events may be.— Phitad> iphia Isdy r. Hew te I/oad a ban. The aatbor of " Shooting on the Wiug'saysof loading the gun: Un der this bead we have to consider not only the best quantities and proportion* of powder and shot, but the proper mode of inserting the charge in the faun. If the weapon be a breech-loeder, lull directions in regard to the point will be giTen by the manufacturer; but where a ran ale-loader is used, there is a certain routine to be both . . for the sake of securing rapidity and certainty, and of avoiding danger. Both barrels of the gun being un loaded, the following is the system that we always follow: Qrasping the bar rel with the left hand a few inches be low the mnutle, the hammer* being at lialf-ooek and the gun in such a position directly in front that the trigger guard i* toward the persou, we measure out the primer quantity of powder for a load, and pour it into each barrel in succession; and, after returning the flask to the pocket, insert a cut wad in each barrel, draw the ramrod, and press it gently to the bottom. For doing this, Frank Forrester gives some very exoellent advice aa follows: "Bemem ber not to grasp the rod, much lesa cover the tip of it with the palm of your hand in ramming down, but to bold it only l>etween the tips of your fingers and thumb. In case of an explosion, this difference in the mode of holding it will just make the difference of lacerat ed finger-tips, or a hand blown to shroda." The rod may now be held in the same band that support* the barrels, while t be shot is oarefnllv measured sod pour ed into them; wad* are again inserted and pressed home, and the ramrod re turned to its proper place. All that now remains is to cap the piece, and see that the hammers are at half-cock. The First Coaches. Coaches were introduced into Eng land by Fit* Allen, Earl of Arundel, A. I)., 1580; before which time Queen Elisabeth, on public occasions, rooe be hind ber chamberlain, and the, in ber old age, according to Wilson, used re luctantly snob an effeminate conveyance. They were at first drawn by two horses; " but," ssys the same aatbor, " the rest crept in by degrees, aa men at first ven tured to sea. It waa Buckingham, the favorite, who, about 1618, began to have a " team " of sis horses; which, as an other historian says, " waa wondered at aa a novelty, and imputed to him aa a master pride. Before that time ladies chiefly rode on horseback, either single, on their palfreys, or double, behind some person on a pillion. In the year 1678, at which period throughout the kingdom there ware only six stage coache* constantly running, s pamphlet wa* written sad published by Mr. John Cresset, of the Charterhouse, urging their suppression; and.among the grave reasons given against their continuance, the author say* •• These stage coaches make gentlemen come to London on very small occasion, which otherwise they would not do but upon urgent ne cessity; the eouvsufamee of this passage makes their wives often come up, who, rather tlmn oome such a long journey on horseback, would stay st home. Then, when they come to town, they must presently be in the mode, gut fine clothes, go to plays and treats, and, by thesa, get rath a habit of idleness and love of plea—re as makes them uneasy