Comfort. ".Suppose, be said, " that all the streams that run Should flow Into one aea; Suppose that all the sunshine ot the sun But for one hour should be Poured on the folded heart ol that red rose That richly glows Half in the light and hall within the shado Ot its own leaves, all lightly overlaid To keep it till it blows. "Well, you would soe this summer world, so glad In sun and song, and bloom, A wandering waste of water, woird and sail, Held in unbroken gloom; And you would see, alter the hour had sped, That rose so red A sightless, withered thing, loel in the sun, And all the land ot other bloom undono, And dry as dost," ho said. 'Suppose, then, you could have the world lor tears, Aud win your wishos with sighs; Have all the hidden sweetness in the years And all the perfect skies; Oh • then vou think the way would be most clear? • My very dear, Tour lite would lie all wan aud weird in gloom; Your soul would pass us sightless as the bloom T>t that lost rose, I tear." —Juliet C. Marth, in Chrittian Union. A POOR MAN'S WIFE. "My choice is made,sister Belle. Give me your approval." The elder sister looked at a couple of open letters lying on the writing desk Before which the speaker sat, her cold, gray eyes softening a little as she re plied : "If you tell me which of the two you have chosen, I can answer you." " You ought to know without being told." Stella laughed. "Clarence, of oourse." Belle Lawson looked serious. " Stella" she said, " I'm sorry. Not that I bear Clarence Ilenshaw any ill will, but, child, you are not suited to be a poor man's wife. Remember you are proud, and have been reared in ease and comfort. Follow my advice, and marry Henry Lakcman." "No, Belle; I won't marry Henry Lakeman if be was a hundred times richer than he is." She slipped a picture into his en velope, witn a long glance at the view it imaged. " It's a lovely place," she sighed, "and I would like to live there." The sister was watching, and stopping kissed the smooth, white brow, while she said: " Don't be too hasty, Stella. If you covet this pretty home of Henry Lake man's. aecept it." "But I love Clarence Hensh&w. I prefer a cottage with him to a mansion with Henry. Miss I.awson turned to the window wi'h a sorry look. Some sweet dream of her own childhood was in her mem ory. perhaps, but she held it worse than folly to indulge in regrets. Love, in her estimation, was no balance in the scale of wealth. "Stella," she continued, very gravely, ' " I have acted the part of a motiier for many years; my wish has ever lieen ; that you form a wealthy marriage. You love luxury, you ciyoy display, and I am not saying too much when I add that you worship beautiful apparel Henry can give you ail of these. Clarence Ilenshaw cannot. As his wife you will be subject to all manner j of privations; be content to live in a common way, stint and economize and manage the best you can. How long will that suit a girl of your tastes? Think "Well of it. I shall let you hpve your own choice in regard to marriage." "My mind is made up," Stellu re sponded, readily. Bhc took up the view, slipping a let- j ter into its envelope while she spoke. "If I favored his suit; I was to keep it, sister Belle," she continued, touching the edge of the wrapper to her rosy lips, and sealing it with a heavy slap of the j hand. " I do not, you will observe. I'll never be sorry I know," she murmured, turning the envelope to look at the superscription. " Your happiness is within your own grasp, Stella. You'll rocnll my words i some day." And with a stately gait, BellelLawson left her. Stella ran lightly upstairs to her own room and touched the bell in great haste. • " You will oblige me by mailing this at once." she said to the servant who answered her call, handing him this venr envelope, " and," she said, smiling ana blushing. " be careful of this," put ting another letter into his hand. " Leave it with no one but the person to trhom it is addressed. Mind I" she railed, as he turned to obey. "There'll be no mistake, miss," and that night a perfumed note lay on Clar ence Henshaw's pillow, aad be, foolish fellow, was transported to the upper heaven of delight over its contents. Three months later they were mar ried. They were a happy and hopeful ooupie. The life upon which they en tered was like a new and unexplored country, but Clarence meant to work hard,, and felt little or no doubt in re gard to their future. He was tqual to any undertaking in bis own determina tion that would promote his wife's happi ness, and as to Stella, she would do anything to help bar husband. . He haa been a head bookkeeper for many years, and had the promise of something a little better yet the com ing season. So the first few months of their married life ran smoothly. They rented a house in a pleasant part of the city, kept a servant, and Stella wore '.he pretty clothee which had been pro vided at the time of her marriage, and wondered why sister Belle had such funny notions about marrying a poor man. But toward the close of the first year of their wedded life, hie firiu was said to be under heavy liabilities, and the anniversary of their marriage found the house bankrupt and Clarence out of a situation. He applied at this and at that place, hut month after month slipped by and he found no opening. They moved out of the house and took etieaper room in another part of the city. By this time their ianda began to run low, and Stella wanted something new for her ward robe. Already she had begun to show signs of discontent. " I shall find something by-and-bye,' the husband said, bravely. Itwas at this trying time that a little spcok of humanity was put into Stella's arms, and its feeble cry told that the re sponsibility of motherhood was liers. " I am the happiest man alivo," ex claimed Clarence, carressing wife and child. "The very happiest," he re peated again, kissing the baby boy. " Let pride go to the dogs, Stella," he added, remembering that now his re sponsibility was greater than before. " They want workmen on the new city hall. " I'll take my hammer—it will give us bread." She ought to have been contented, ought to have thought with pride of the man who would thus brave the world's opinion. He went in early morning, and came home late at night, as other workmen did, his handsome face glowing with love. I Sister Belle had said that her tastes were luxurious, and she wanted a pretty home now, and tine apparel for herself and baby. The people of the world in which she had lived had never to count on their money to know if they could buy a new dress. She had never been taught to make the best of whatever circumstances you may be placed in, and why should j she now ? The little privations she eudurod wor | tied and vexed her, and in a little while i the sweet-tempered woman grow moody ; and down-henrted. She became careless I in her dress, and instead of the cheerful | little wife lie used to see, he found a j gloomy woman and a disorderly house. But he never complained. "Stella is homesick," he would say, ! "and the care of baby is too much for her. I must make some money," and his hammer rang witli redoubled energy. Yet every day her discontent grew more apparent. "How can you expect me to live among such surroundings, Clarence?" was her appeal when the husband begged her to lie of good cheer. "It's cruel in you," she sobbed. " I want to be back again in my old home, among my own friends." The warm glow cnuio to his face, and he drew her tenderly toward him with out a word, hut there was a look piteous to see in his handsome eyes, while his resolve was to work still harder. There a came a day, later a little—"for i some days must be dark and dreary when it did seem that matters had come to a crisis. The city hall was finished long ago, „the Odd Fellows' building completed and the last stroke had been given to the new church. Clarence must look for something new. Jennie, who had minded Freddy for two or three months, find to go, and all the household cares fell npon Stella's hands. They had moved from place to place since Freddy's birth, hoping to find a house with which Stella would be con tent. " But those people are all alike," she said, " and I muy as well lie in one place as another," was her reply to Clarence, when he suggested that they move into a new block. It was unwomanly in her to say this, she knew, the moment the words es caped her lips, and she thought to run after her husband and beg Ins forgive ness, hut just then Freddy caught at her dress, causing her to spill the water she was pouring into the tea kettle, which only increased her vexation. "You cross little troublesome thing!" she exclaimed, impatiently. "Take that!" laying her hand heavily on the ■ little bare shoulders. "I'm sick to death with having you always hanging to my skirts." With this she let fall the earthen pheher she held in her hand, and drop ping into the nearest chair, hurst into hysterical weeping. Freddy, with the prints of her fingers still red on his ncek, toddled to her side, and tried to climb into her lap. But she pushed him away crossly, with— "Go play with your blocks and horses; I don't want you near me;" and her hand was raised to lay on the rosy cheek. " Dou't do anything you'll be sorry for by-and-bye, Stella," Clarence saiu, coming into the room just thou. Something in his face stayed her hand just on the moment, and she rose to iter feet, dashing with shame and anger. " I thought you'd gofte down town," she replied, sliarply. "Oh, dear, if I'd minded sister Belie I shouldn't have been here. She was right. I had no business to marry a poor man." " You're not cjuite yourself this morn ing, Stella," and his eyes were full ol unshod tears as he caught sight of the re i marks on her baby's neck. " I)o you suppose I can endure every thing ?' she cried, spitefully. " You are nervous and tired, dear. Come here," and he put out his hand to clasp her. Hue glided from him and went into the ad ; -Mningroom. something wet fell on the baby's head, and he pressed him closely to bis bosom as he caught the sound of her sobbing. " I have heard of something new this morning, Stella, and I'm going to New York by the next train." He tried to say it cheerfully. "You're always bearing of something new," wu ber quick reply; "but what does it amount to?" " So I am hoping for something bet ter, and think I have found it now." He rocked Freddie to sleep, pat him into his ertb, then went to the door of ills wife's room. "Are you going to kise hie good-bye, Stella!" lie asked, opening the door very softly. I may be gone a day or two*' "No," she replied, coldly, "you'll be hack soon enough." "I will come as soon at I can; but 1 might never return, you know." "See if you are not hnck as soon as you can come, with the same old story." Clarence turned quickly, but she saw the look on liis face and never for got it. She beard him cross the room, and knew he bent over Freddie's crib and kissed the little sleeper again and again. "He'll come back to me before he really goes." site whisked '*> herself, starting up and voing toward the door; hut a turn in uie street bid Idin from sight when she reached Urn window. . lie had gone, aad for the first time with out kissing her good-bye. She sat quite still until Freddy awoke; then with a cry of terror ehe ran across the ball to the nearest neighbor, with " Please come, Mrs. Wilson, my baby's dying." Mrs. Wilson came, for though rough of manner, she was kind oi heart. " He's in a fit." she said, the moment her eyes rested on the little sufferer. " Bring me some water, quick !" she called, "and help to got nfThis clothes." Stella obeyed. " Hold him so," was her command, putting him into the bath. " I will run home and get some medicine. Such women as you ain't lit for mothers," blio continued, returning with her hands full of bottles. "Oh, Freddy," cried Stella, dropping on her knees, if you'll only get w#U, I will try so hard to bear everything. "And what trials have you to bear ?" asked Mrs. Wibon. "You have a pretty home," looking about the room, " if it was put in order. " It isn't like the house I'm used to." " Young people don't expect to begin where i tic old ones left off. They must make their own homes." "I never understood it so. Sister Belle is the only mother I ever knew, and her idviot was never to marry a poor man." "So you keep finding fault and com plaining when your husband is trying in every possible way to make an honest living. It is a wonder that you haven't driven him to drink long ago." " But my husbnnd is a good man," re plied Stella, warmly, resenting the last part of the speech " He hits shown himself to be a good man." The woman snid it in good faith, wrapping Freddy in soft flannels, and administering a quieting potion. She had heen watching t lie movements of this couple ever since they came to live in the house. " My baby will get well, won't he?" was said, pleadingly, and the poor thing sobbed again as if her heart would break. "Yes, indeed." " And you stay with me through the night?" forgetting she was one of "those people." " I'd stay with you a wlioie blessed week," replied tiue-hoarted Mrs. Wil son, " if I could make you a wife worthy of your husband." "Tell mo what I shall do and I'll do it faithfully and willingly, and without complaining." All through the long night hours, while Freddy lay between life and death, Mrs. Wilson worked over him bravely, and told to the girl-mother chapters of her own life-experience. There were passages over which Stella wept bitterly, and when morning dawned, giving back the child from danger, in place of the fickle, unreasona ble woman, there was one ready to meet life's work with a firm purpose and strong heart. She tidied up each apartment, and in stead oi going about in a dowdy wrap- Eer put on a fresh dress, arranged her air becomingly, and changed the pucker about her mouth for her own rosy Hps. " You're a pretty little thing," Mrs. Wilson told her, when she had fastened a knot of blue ribbon in her blonde hair. "See after baby now. I'll look in every now and then through the day, and to-night will come back to you. You're husband will be here to-morrow morning?" "Yes," replied Stella, with a bright look in her eyes. "He will be here oy ten o'clock." After all it was a long time to wail, she thought. She was so impatient to tell I him and she would kiss him as many times as he wished. "Yes, indeed," she exclaimed, joy fully, bending over Freddie's crib, "we 11 kiss papa a hundred thousand times, won't we, dear?" " I do wish Clarence would come," she kept saying next morning. " What ! detains him?" she continued, a hen the ; clock was on the stroke of twelve. " What if—" and her heart was like ' lead in her bosom as she recalled the "look she last saw on hts face. " What if he never comes back!" she murmured, going into her own room. " Mrs. \N ilson," she willed, "where is my husband t" In an instant the dear, good soul was beside her, resting a band tenderly on the aching head. True-hearted woman! She shrank from saying it had been a dreadful night on the sound, and that a steamer had collided with the New York boat. "Her husband travels by boat," had been her conclusion. Sttdla caught at her arm. the soundjof her voice answering Freddy, and with a cry she fell. Poor, tired, unexperienced wife and mother ! Waa the ordeal so ordered ? With the help of a neighbor Mrs. Wil son laid her on the bed. " Kun for the doctor," she said to Miss Williams. " But you don't know—" " I do," she interrupted. "Mrs. llen sliaw will have a run of nervous fever, and whether her huband is dead or alive, I can't any. When Stella opened her eyes again it was nearly night. She knew no one about the bed, but talked to Clarence and Freddy and sister Belle. She was going to help her husband, now. She couin earn money by teach ing music, or painting, or " might have a few pupils in dancing," she added. " But forgive me for striking—" and her arms were put up as if to clasp something, when she dczed again. liftte tiiat owning Clarence come in sight of home. Contrary to Mrs. Wil son's ooiyeeture, he came by a different route. He had thought to telegraph, " But Stella won't worry," he said, " if I am late." The light faded from his eyes and his face turned ghastly pale when he looked into the rooms. " Both gone?" he groaned, walking from the bed to the crib. "N0.n0," Mrs. White said, comfort ingly. "Baby's better and your wife wUI come out of Ibis. All she needs is good nursing, and that she shall have," turning aside her head and drying her tears with the corner of her aprM. What could iwe do if such as she were not stationed nil.along the walks of life? It wiui pninful tn listen to the wild talk. "If I might endure it," Clarence said so many times. When at last Stella awoke from the terrible dreams,' her husband was bending over her. "Clarence," she snid, very softly, at first, "Clarence," she repeated, putting her arms about his neck," if you'll for give me for striking Freddy, I'll kiss you, oh, so many time!" Foolish fellow! hv cried like, a baby. " Listen, Stella." he said, as soon as be could command his voice, " listen, I did get the situation, and you can have everything you want," twhinghls lips to tier cheeks and forehead, " and you are going to have such a pretty house in Brooklyn!" "All I want is your love," clasping him olose, " and that Freddy get well. I am ready to be a poor man's wife." TIMXLT TOPICS. .One of the unexpected sources of wheat supply for Europe is the river Platte country in Bouth America. Large shipments of new-crop wheat have already been made by Bteamers to Liverpool and Bordeaux. Australia, also, has now heoome a serious com petitor of the United States, and during the past few months lias shipped e ore mouß quantities of wheat to England by Suez, canal steamers. Countries in the southern hemisphere finish their winter wheat harvests at just the time when the supply from northern coun tries begins to lie exhausted. The Revue Indtulrielle states that a German manufactory is turning out over a ton a day of glucose made from old linen r;urs. These r tgs, which are com posed of hard vegetable libers, are treated with sulphuric acid, which converts them into dextrine. The latter product thus obtained undergoes a washing with milk of lime, and is then treated with a fresh supply of acid stronger than the former, when the mass is at once trans formed and crystallizes into glucose, of which "rich" confections and jellies may be made. The process is said to be a very cheap one, and the glucose chemi cally identical with grape sugar. A strong outcry, however, lias arisen against the manufacture of grape sugar from rags, and the enterprise is under stood to Ik' in danger of being interlered with by the German government. A French scientist has invented a number of small electric lamps which can be used by the surgeon in illuminat ing the throat, the mouth, or even the more internal parts of the body, while performing an operation, it is now sug gested that it would be possible to ma terially assist the physician in his diag nosis, by means of a powertui electric light. On the assumption that the hu man body is only semi-opaque, it is proposed to place the patient in such a position in connection with a dark screen, that it is probable n powerful electric light would sufficiently illum inate his interior to enable the physician in a dark room to see so much of the workings of the principal organs as would assist him to arrive at a correct conclusion as to the nature of the case. If such a scheme is possible it would undoubtedly be of much advantage to medicine. A New York paper asserts that "it has been shown by recent testimony before the committee of the legislature, in one of the most enlightened of the New England States, that there are dozens of men in regular practice in the United States whose diplomas, though proceed ing from incorporated college*, repre sent nothing intellectual whatever, but were simply bought and paid for. without pretense ol examination, ma triculation or lecture tickets, for a cer tain stipulated sum, not usually exceed ing $25 or s3n. Philadelphia appears, according to a late number of the Stati cal Record of this city, to lie the great center of operations of this class, and to i>osm?*s several duly incorporated nodical colleges that make a regular business of selling authorizations to kill to persons not competent to kill with scientific accuracy." Not iong ago a Vicncse artist ex hibited a masterpiece of painting, a historical subject in the treatment of which he introduced a wonderful head -that of an old man, venerable and benevolent. All Vienna fell to talking about the old man's face, and one day a mysterious stranger called upon the artist, and r felicitating him warmly on the success of his picture, asked him confidentially for the address of his model. A few hou r s later the mysteri ous stranger and another detective had eoiiared and carried off the original of that venerable and benevolent portrait —one Veneesias Guneseb, ngea sixty seven, a notorious and dangerous crim inal who had broken jail and had hitherto su voided in eluding the sharp pursuit of the officers. Thus Venoeslas Guneseb. by bis good looks, gained a models' (be, the admiration oi a great capital—and imprisonment for life. The Moscow industrial exhibition, which waa to have been opened on the first of May, as an additional celebra tion of the czar's twenty-fifth anniver sary, ia postponed till next year, chiefly on account of the present disturbed state of public affairs. It wilt not be inter national. as was reported, confining it self strictly to lUissinn produce. In fact, it appears intended for a duplicate of that of 1872, and will probably oc cupy the same site.viz., the slope around the foot of the Kremlin wall. One of the leading attractions on that occasion was the appearance of a number of Central- Asian Harts and Kirghiz, whom a shrewd Russian had hired to hang around his refreshment bar, and draw attention hv their outlandish dreas and features. Another curious episode was the bewilderment of a group of Russian Consents at the sight of a small wooden uilding, the character of which they earned at in vain, till a passer-by in formed them that it was a model or one of their own cottages. A worthy couple in Norriatown, Pa., have been wonderfully blessed either by an active Providence or an imagina tive reporter. The husband is now in his eignty-third year, hot is remarkably active His sight i emained good rather longer than is the case with most old men, bat at length failed with all the phenomena usual in advancing lite, and for sixteen years he was obliged to nee glueses. At length he found great diffi culty in obtaining spectacles to suit him. They seemed to hinder rather than help bis sight, and, to his own surprise, tie found the power of his eyes returning. For several years he has discarded glasses altogether, and is now able to read the finest print used in daily newspapers with perfect ease. His wife is now in her seventy-seventh year. At about the usual age her te 'th began to fail and she finally lost tliem ail. in the enmmcr of 1878 she began to be troubled with pain in the upper jaw, and soon a full thinl set of teeth made their appear ance. They grew to their usual size and have since remained firm and in good condition, hut no new teeth appeared in the lower jaw. Various devices have been invented for marking live stock and wearing a®- Erel and other tilings, so people will ow them when they see them, but no one seems to have studied out a design lor marking time exoept in the old way by pawing np the earth with one toot.— Ktokml Oate Oity. SAO SCENES Of IBISH ■MEBY. WMCMMM oft** DirtUlact-Harrtw las Details of (fea DaatttaUss of the People -flaw He lie ft* lMstrlhated. The New York Tril/unt'a special cor respondent in Ireland spent a Sunday at Westport, county Mayo, investigating the results of the famine in that region. At the bamirt of Thornhill he attended church. Alter the services were over, he writes, the Sunday-school met and a brace of babies were christened. Mean while I walked down the road with one of the men to see an Irish cabin. I tainted out a low cottage and asked ini to take me into it. It was a filthy hovel—the foulest and dreariest human habitation I had ever seen. Alas! only five dsys have passed since I saw it and already I remember it as a tolerable de cent cabin! There was no floor save the cold earth; a call'had Its share of the room; it was a stable, a kitchen, a nur sery and a sitting-room all in one. As in most of these Irish hovels there is a large niche in the wall near the fire, just large enough to hold a rude bed. There, covered with horrible rags, lay an aged woman, ghastly, yellow and gasping- There she had lain lor a month or two, " dying of slow decline." No American family would have suffered such rags as covered this dying woman to stay even in their ash-barrels for a single day. The mother sat near the open fireplace— a young woman with a strong and comely face and tlie head of a Roman matron. Her infant, in its home-made wooden cradle, was beside her. There was a little dark room back—the room where the children slept. Six children lived here—a family of nine persons The mother and children were in rags, but the woman wore her rags with dignity. I had no wish to see any other cabins, so I went back to the church. Most of the men had gone home, but there was a crowd of about fifty women and a score of old men around the vestry-door. It was raining: hut rfo one stirred. The tickets for Indian meal had to be dis tributed as soon as the priest was at leisure: ?ind for this meager help from the charity of the world these poor mothers waited with a patient anxiety. There were few young women, and fewer girls among them. Tbey were mostly women of from thirty to sixty years of age. At least a third of them were barefooted. Not one of them had a lionnet on her head. They covered their Leads with the hoods of their old cloaks, or with little faded woolen shawls. Not a inerry-eyed woman among them all! Deep wrinkles and sad faces everywhere not the fine noble lines that the old artist Thought h&d chiseled; but the sharp gutters made by a torrent of calamity, the dark shadows cast by mean care and grovel ing want. They were the sign manuals and signets—hunger and despair. The priest came out, and. one hy one. read the names on the little handful of orders for two stones, or twenty-eight pounds, of Indian meal. This was all the allowance that the funds of the local committee permitted to be given to fami lies of from five to nine persons per week. One by one wretched women from the crowd came up and took the order that bore her name, and courte sied and thanked the donors and God. They were soon distributed. A babel of appeals! "Sure I have five children and not a mouthful for them!" This was one of the cries; and it wss the truth. Again and again the priest told them that he could do no more. " But," he added, " I have one blank order. It must be given to the Jvrry poorest family here. Now tell me who Is the poorest?" Only one man named himself, bat he was thrown back by a dozen indignant voices. Not another one of the eager vol 11 lint spoke named lier own wants. It was a noble tribute to these poor Irish starvelings—every one seemed anxious to point out some one more wretched than herself. And when one man and Ills needs were stated—" Sure, he i* the worst oflT!" shunted a chorusof women. Whatever centuries of mis rule and hunger may Lave made these people, it lias not quenched the holiest light that illuminates the soul. We drove back to Murrisk, that we had passed on our way to Thornhill. It is a cluster of hovels built higftcldy piggeldy along the shore and up the sides of the little hill near one of the arms of the bay. There is a rough bar rier of stone across, the water, which was built to keep the tide from overflow ing the sweet water of the iittle pond that empties into the bay. Without it the people could not drink the water, and there are no springs or wells near by. It was badly constructed, and has been partly demolished by the high winds and the tides. It is dangerous crossing when the wind is high. It re quited the utmost care for us to keep our feet in walking over it. A woman lay dying in one of these hovels. Father Lynskey entered to ad minister the last sacrament. As I am not a Catholic, the priest advised me to visit the other cabins while he sought the dying woman. I went into (me of them. I shall have to glow half a yard or so before I can truthfully be called a tall man, and yet I had to t-end nearly double before I could get through tlfr door. There was no fireplace. There was only a bole in the roof at one end of the room, out of which the smoke made its way at its leisure. A little peat fire was burning on the hearth, or rather beneath the hole in the roof. There was no ceiling, of course, for none of these cabins have a ceiling. There was no floor but the ground—few of them have even a few flat stones here or there. There was no window. T.ie rafters and the furxe sticks on which the thatch rests, and the walls, and everything in the wretched room, were begrimmed with smoke. There was no dresser for the plates and cups. There were no chairs There was only one mean rickety little home-made table. There were only two low rude stools for sluing on A pig was eating out of a kettle on the floor. Two or three hens were picking up a few grains of meal Near the fire there was a rude bed, covered with two filthy blankets. There was an inner room. I entered it. It was the children's bedroom. Its furniture consisted of three little heaps of rags. There were six persons in this family. The children were ragged and cold. As I took notes in this Irish home, the neighbors thronged in until the place was full, and before I oould complete my notes I had to ask them to stand awav from the little door, for there was no other way of getting light. The woman of the house was clan in filthy rags. She was barefooted, fill* plaintively told me that she could not go to mass now. for she had not a de cent dress to cover her rags. Tats was not the worst bevel. There were others smaller and more wretched, both bete and at a similar cluster of hovels called Killenaooff. Bat it ia use mto describe them oneby one. Every where I saw cows,.calves, pigs, horse* asses and hena living in the same room with young mother* and children—in the aame damp, dark, slippery, smoki hovcl*,half stable snd half home; every where I aaw old men and old women ragged and barefooted, and hungry and cold and despairing. At Killenacoff the good priest offered to expend a sum that had been sent b,r the twenty-four families of that hamlet to him, in paying them wagea at the rate of a shilling a day to build a road for their own uae, so that they might earn their scanty meals, and save their self-respect. They gladly accepted th< offer. It is to the eredit of those Urv ing people that tbey do not want relief but work; that they are anxious to b< employed, and only accept alms hcr-au* their families would perish from hung, without it. I shall tell of only one more viii* As we crossed the " barrier"— Fatht- Ly/iskey was some distance behind v the time—l aaw two littlecfaiidren, with hare red feet and blue lips, sitting at the roadside near what seemed to lit tL< | roof of a pig-sty or little stable, for ti,< I roof was flush with the road. I notice. I that they were rather more ta*U-fu , j clad falbeit in rags) and that th<* seemed of a finer organization than mo-"' of the children tliat I had seen. Th'-ir far es were clean. A slim blond, wornar. of thirty or more, whore face showed traces of early beauty, stood with d< jeetcd countenance near them. A I looked a second time at tlie little 'T<\- turcs the woman spoke to me and °-a;i that slic had not been able to get any re. lief, and that her children had not eat'-s a mouthful since yesterday It now afternoon. " Where do you live?'' I asked ••There!" She pointed to a bouse that I had sup posed to be a little stable. It wa* bui t between the barrier and the road. S|,<- had put it up with her own hands. said. I turned to the man who guiding me. "Is that true?" I asked him—outo: her hearing, of course. "Yes." he answered, coldly. 1 made my way down to when u.f door was, followed by the guide and tb<- woman. I had to bend low to enter ti but. It was not fifteen feet by ten. Thtr< was no window; there was no firej lac. there was no bole in the roof.even.r.the smoke to escape, and only three bits < ! turf burned on the hearth. A litt> white kitten, singed and dirty and famished, was crouching near tk* semblance of a fire. At one end 01 ttf hovel was a rude bed, and two diny rags for covering. The straw of th roof was half-rotten; when it rained hard, the woman said, the rain cam. through into the cabin. There was no furniture save a kettle and a tabic and a stool. "Where is your husband?" I asked. "He is not here," said tb- mat quickly. I gave the poor wretched woman half a crown to buv food for hr children. Punishment of Kilmer. Mi - James Greenwood has publish; a frightlul account of the silent system which is in operation at the Hollow*} model prison in Ixmdon: It is an offense for a prisoner to sr>u one word, and he is never addressed n* j oept in whispers, so that he mar be it | prison two years without hearing the natural sound of the human voice. The effect of this is so terrible on the mine j that prisoners will speak out in despcr* I lion, at the risk of any punishment, I rather than endure that horrible silcnce- The prisoners never sec one another, nut remain in perpetual solitude. One j poor wretch driven to desperation by : nine months'solitude and silence, reck j lessiy broke ot;t, in Mr. Greenwood) presence, " For God sake, governor, put me in another cell. Put mo somewhere else. I have counted the bricks in ttrf cell I am in till ruv eyes ache." The request of the tortured wrcich | was refused. There is a fine hole in each oeii, u