Midnight, June 80, 1879. i. Midnight—in no midsummer luno Tho breakers lush the shores; The cuckoo of a joyless June Is calling out-of-doors. And thou hast vanish'd from thine own To that whioh looks like rest, True brother, only to lie known By those who] love thee best. 11. Midnight—and joyless June gone by, And lrom the deluged park The cuckoo oi a worse July Is calling thro' the dark. But thou art silent underground, And o'er thee]streams tho rain, True poet, surely to be found When truth is found again. hi. And now to these unsummer'd skies, Tho summer bird is still, Far oil a phantom cuckoo cries From out a phantom hill; And thro' this midnight breaks the sun Oi sixty years away, The light oi days when life begun, The days that seem to-day, When all my griefs were shared with thee, And all my hopes were thine— As all thou wert was one with me, May all thou art be mine! -Alfred Tetiiiyton, in Harper't Magazine. NEEDLE AND THREAD. "An old bachelor?" said Honora Maywood. "That's what he told me, just in so many words," said Mrs. Pennypacker, who stood on tbe threshold of her test room, witli her bead tied up in a pocket handkerchief and a hair-broom in her banu wherewith she gesticulated, after a tregic fashion, as she talked, while Miss Maywood, tall and slender ns a wild lily, stood in tbe ball, with a roll of music u ider her arm, and her slight figure w! ipped in a shabby black shawl. "And b's willing to pay my price, cash down, every Saturday night. Never u" ■ rnpted to beat down a penny, if you v :i believe it. my dear." " Why should he?" said Honora. "Most people do, my dear,"said Mrs. Pennypacker. " A wrinkled old widow like n.e, who han'her living to earn, is mostly fair game for everybody. A real gentleman, my dear—every inch of him. But he's a little particular, I'm afraid." " I suppose most bachelors are," said Miss Maywood, smiling. " Yes, my dear—yes!" nodded Mrs. Pennypacker. " But this gentleman is beyond the average, I think." " And if he is?" "Nothing," says Mis. Pennypacker, making a;dab with her broom-handle at a stray mothmiller, which was flutter ing blindly against tbe'garnet damask window curtains—" nothing except that one don't quite know where to have him. He drinks old English breakfast tea, and lie wants his pie-crust made with the best Aldcrney butter, instead of lard as is good enough for other peo ple; and be must have ventilators to all the windows, and an open grate instead of the base-burning stove; and— I hope you'll not by offended, my dear—but he particularly disiikca.'a piano." "Dislikes] a' piano!" said the little music-teacher, reddening in spite of h< rself. " And he says, says lie, 4 1 hope there's no piano in the bouse. 4 A piano,' nays * he, 4 plays the deuce with my nervous system, with its everlasting turn turn! These were his very words, my dear. So I courtesys, and says I, ' You will not be troubled] with one Ihere, sir. And so, my dear, I'll be grateful if you . won't mind doin' your ]practicin' until he's out for his daily walk; from one to three. jußt as regular as the clock." "Miss Raymond looked up pitcously in the old landlady's face. "I will do anything to oblige you, Mrs. Pennypacker," she said, earnestly. '* I haven't forgotten .how much I am indebted to you, both in actual money and in kindness, which money can never repay." And the soft bluo eyes filled with tears as she spoke. "My dear, don't say a word," said Mrs. Pennypacker, hastily. "You've been sick, and you've got a little be hindhand, and its quite natural you ■bould be a little low-spirited now then. But you mustn't get discour aged. Things will look up after a wbi le And you're quite welcome to stay here until you are able to settle up your little account." Honora Maywood sighed, ns she remembered how' often her little ad vertisement had been inserted in the daily newspapers, without attracting the least notice from the world of pa trons and pupils. There were so many capable music teachers, willing to give essons at moderate prices, nowadays, and how was any one to know how sorely she needed the money P And as tbe time crept on, and on upi Is came, Honora]begnn seriously to k herself whether she could go out in some menial capacity, or stay genteelly at home and starve. •'Clothes, ma'am!" Honora started from her reverie, as the washwoman's stumpy little girl banged herself, like a human battering vain, up against the door, with a preposterously large bsakctjon her arm. "Tea," said Ilonora, coloring. "Put them down, Sally. But I—l'm afraid it isn't convenient to pay your mother to day." "Mother didn't say nothing 'bout the pay," said Sally, wiping her forehead with a whisk of her arm and sniffing herself well-nigh off' her feet. 4 'l was to leave the clothes] with her 'umble duty and she 'oped they'd suit; but it was that damp and muggy on Monday and Tuesday, as starch wouldn't stick, and she 'opes you'll excuse all mistakes as they shall be done better next time." " I dare say they are quite right," said Honora, with a little sigh, as she mar veled at this unexpected excess of court osy on the part of her laundress. But when Sally had stumped off'down stairs, her flapping slippers beating sort of tattoo as she went, and Miss May wood took of!' the fringed towel that cov ered the basket of clothes, she gave a little start. "Shirts," said Honora, "and sock and turn over collars, No. 16, and greau big pocket-handkerchiefs, like the sails of u ship, and white vests, and—good ness me! what does it all meanP Mrs. Mulvey has sent me some gentleman's wardrobe by mistake. 1 must send these back at once." But then Miss Maywood looked down at the articles in grave consideration. " I never had a brother." mused Miss Maywood; "and I can't remember my father; liut of this I am quite certain— if I had either one or the other I should hank any girl to mend their dilapidated wardrobes if they looked like this. And Mrs. Mulvey can't send before nights and unfortunately I've nothing to do, so I'll just mend this poor fellow's clothes whoever he may be. A half-starved theological student perhaps, training for the Polynesian islands, or perhaps a newspaper reporter, or a pale clerk under the dazzling skylights of some dry goods palace. At all events he's worse off than I am, for lie can't mend his own clothes, and I can." And the smiles dimpled around Hon ora May wood's little rosebud of a mouth, i as she sat down to darn holes, sow on tape, and insert patches. "He'll never know who did it," said Honora to herself; "but I dare say he will be thankful; and if one gets a chance to do a little good in this way, one ought not to grudge one's time and trouble." But as Honora slitched away, she mused sadly whether or not she ought to accept a position which had offered itself of assistant matron in an orphan asylum, where the work would be most unendurable, and the pay next to noth ing. with no Sundays or holidays, and a ladies' committee, consisting of three starched old maids, to " sit" upon her the first Friday of every month. " 1 almost think I'd rather starve," thought Honora. " But, dear me! starving is a serious business when one comes to consider it face to face." Sally Mulvey came back, puffing and blowing like a human whale, in about two hours. " Mother says she's sent the wrong basket," said she, breathlessly. "I thought it very probable, Sally," said Miss Maywood. "And mother's compliments," added Sally, "and she can't undertake your things no longer. Miss Maywood, 'cause she does cash business, and there ain't nothing been paid on your account since last .June." Honora felt herself growing scarlet. " 1 am very sorry, Sally"' said she. "Tell your mother I will settle my bill assoon as I possibly can." Sally flounced out of tbe room, red and indignant, like an overcharged thunder-cloud, and poor little Honora, dropping her hands, burst into tears. • • • • • • • "Pretty girl that—very pretty," said Mr. Brodcrick, the old bachelor, to his landlady. " I)o you mean—" " I mean the young lady-boarder of yours that I see on the] stairs now and then," said Mr. Broderick. " Nice figure—big, soft eyes, like a gazelle. Did some one tell me she was a music teacher?" "That's her profession," said Mrs. Pennypacker. " But there ain't many pupils as wants tuition, and poor little dear, she has a hard t ! me of it." "Humph!" grunted Mr. Broderick. " What fools women are not to have some regular profession! If I had a daughter I'd. bring her up a self-sup porting institution." And Mr. Broderick disappeared into his room, in the midst'whereof stood a girl with flapping slippers, a portentous shawl and a bonnet which had originally been manufactured for a woman twice her size. "Who are youP" Remanded Mr Broderick. "Please, sir, I'm Bally—the washer woman's Sally," was the response. " And what do you want ;here?" said Mr. Broderick. " Please, sir, I've come to bring your things," said Sally, chattering off her lesson like a parrot. " And please sir, her 'umble duty, and 'opesjtliey'll suit, but it was 'damp ,and muggy Monday and Tuesday, 'and starch wouldn't stick; and she 'opes you'll excuso all mistake;, as they shall be done better next time, sir—please, sir." "Who mended, themP" demanded Mr. Broderick, whose hawk-eye had already caught sight of the dainty needlework on his garments. "Nobody mended 'em," said Bally, " and mother says it's easy to see as the new gent is a bachelor, on account of the holes in his heels and toes, and the strings off his dickeys." " I can tell who mended 'em," said Mr. Pennypacker, " for I see her at it, the pretty dear—Miss [Muywood. And says she, • I don't know whose they aro, Mrs. Pennypacker; but,'says she,'they need mending—and a kind action never comes amiss.' No more fit docs, sir, Ixird bless her!" "Humph!" said Mr. Broderiek; "she's right—no more it docs. And she is a regular little scientist at the needle, is Miss May wood. Just look at that patch, Mrs. Pennypacker! Euclid's geometry could not produce a straighlcr line or truer angles. See the toe of that el ng! It's liken piece of Gobelin tapestry. That's the way I like to have things done!" And Mr. Broderiek never rested until he had been formally introduced to Honora May wood, and had thanked her with cquaQformality for the good ser vices she had unwittingly rendered him. It was a golden October evening that Honora came down into the kitchen where Mrs. Pennypacker was baking pies for her eccentric boarder, with the crusts made of the best Alderney butter instead of lard. "Oh, dear! oh, dear!" said Mrs. Pennypacker; " what a thing it is to be an old bachelor." "He won't be an old bachelor much longer," said Honora, laughing and coloring, as she laid her cheek on the trood landlady's cushioning shoulder. "What do you mean'" said Mrs. Pennypacker. " He has asked me to marry him," aid Honora, " after only two weeks' acquaintance. He says that a girl who can mend stockings as I do needs no ithertest. And he says he loves me; nd—and— " "Well?" " I almost think I love him!" whis pered Miss May wood. How the Infanta of Spain was Christened. A foreign correspondent of a New York paper writes: The wife of a diplomat told me how the new born infanta came to receive the name of Mercedes. King Alfonso wished her to be so called. He was overruled, 'be cause Queen Isabella is on bad terms with the Montpensier family, and was on worse terms with them during the triumph of Dona Mercedes. The list of names was to have opened with " Maria Isabella .Jacintn." Queen Isabella has repented bitterly of the uncharitable pirit which she harbored against her first daughter-in-law, and has done penance to expiate it. She felt that she ought to make a still greater sacrifice. As god mother, she was asked to name the infanta, which she carried in her arms with maternal pride to the font. Instead of saying " Maria Isabel," etc., •he said: " Maria de las Mercedes Isa bel Theresa." In a letter ti the Tempt, from its Madrid correspondent, it is stated on the authority of an official present, that the king was moved to tears when he carried his iittie daughter into the room where the great dign taries of the state and the ambassadors were waiting to see her. The new born babe was in a gold basket—an heirloom of the Spanish monarchy— and lying on a silken cushion, quite naked. A gauze veil was thrown over the babe, who was perfectly tranquil and coiled up. Each witness lifted the gauze covering. The king was not able to speak, and hurried back to the queen's room with his precious charge directly the ancient—and, to an affectionate father, trying—ceremonial was at an end. Queen Isabella ordered the bap tismal snit in London, at the baby linen warehouse patronized by the royal ladies of the English court. It was of white satin and Honiton lace, and a Honiton lace veil, and was very costly. The ladies at the christening were in trains and low-bodied dresses, and crowded on their finest jewels. Pay the Piper. Although the story of the " Piper of Hamclin" is well known to many per sons, perhaps some of our young friends are not familiar with the tale. Many hundred years ago, the good people of this German village could have no rest, on account of a host of rats that overran this little country town. One day there appeared a strange man among them, who offered, for Ave hun dred guilders, to rid them of the rats. The people accepted his proposal. Then the man began to pipe. In stantly. thousands of rats came out of their haunts and followed the piper, who led them to the river, where they were drowned. As soon as the pest was removed the villagers refused to pay the piper, say ing that he was a " wizard," and they would not " encourage him." He went away vowing vengeance on them, but he returned one festive day, and played a different tune. When the children of the villagers heard the air which the piper then played, they ran mer/lly after him. He led them part way up a hill, when suddenly a door opened in the hillside. In went the piper and the chil dren—troops of them. The door closed, and Die dear little ones were never again seen by their loving friends. Now, children, this is not a true story, but we believe the adage, "Al ways remember to pay the piper" grew ftom the sad experience of the people of Hamclin.— Golden Rule. An elderly person was approached by an ngent for a cyclopedia. " I guess I won't get one," said tbe elderly person, and frankly added: "I know I could never leant to ride one of the pesky things." A Woman of Grit. A woman with [a will can make her way in the American world. In Ulster county, New York, there is a woman of real grit who inherited fourteen years ago a large estate, consisting principally of farming property, heavily incum bered with debt. It was the old home stead, anil she could not bear the idea of seeing it pass into the hands of strangers, and was determined that it should not. Although then only twenty-four years old, and with no more practical knowl edge of life than an ordinary country lass, she assumed sole charge of the estate, determined to clear it of debt. Having an old mother sixty-two years of age, a half sister, also helples rom old age, the two orphan children of a deceased brother, and a brother in the las' stages of consumption to provide for, tnis made her task doubly hard. A little experience taught her that it was impossible to support her large family and keep up the interest arising from the heavy indebtedness of the estate from the resources of the farm. She decided upon school teaching. She was engaged to teach in her own neigh borhood nt $8 per month, and her salary in a short time was raised to S4O per month. She has continued teaching ever since, directing the work of her farm, and during the summer vacations going into the harvest field with the farm hands to pitch on hay, rake, bind, etc. She has earned from teaching school over $3 500, paid off the debt of the old homestead, and greatly improved the property. She has been an exten sive stock raiser. Ilcr wheat crop averaged this year forty-two bushels to die acre, the largest yield in the county. A short time ago she learned that a brother-in-law living in Pennsylvania was in destitute circumstances. She went to him and found him helpless from an incurable disease, with a family dependent upon him. " Ben," she said, "what can Ido for you?" " Nothing. Libbie," was the reply. "You have your hands lull already. Wo will have to go to the county house, I suppose." " Never, Ben, as long as I live. Come and enjoy the comforts of the old home stead witli me. I will keep you and your family as long as you live." She says she has enough to do now without having to support a husband too, which she might have to do if she were married.— New York Trihu e. An English Opinion of the United States Senate. The American Senate was founded for a treble purpose—to act as a check upon hasty action of representatives, to con tiol the executive authority of the President, and to uphold the rights of individual States belonging to the fed eration ; in other words, to protect local interests against undue encroachments from the imperial power. The House of Representatives was to represent the Union; the Senate, the States composing that Union. Senators hold their seats for six years; Representatives only for two. One-third of the Senate, bow ever, is renewed every two years. Mr. Gladstone has described the American Constitution as a masterpiece of human wisdom. Its framers certainly achieved one signal success; they devised a second chamber, at once popular "and efficient for the purposes for which it was de signed. The Senate has frequently thwarted the action of the House of Representatives; yet no cry has ever been raised against its privileges, and no American dreams of abolishing it The same can hardly be said of any senate in the old world. The United States Senate may be called the model upper h >uso. France with all the political genius of her sons has never been able to create an as stinbly possessed of the like prestige and popularity. The second republic con tented itself with a single national as sembly. Napoleon 111- re-established a dual legislature, his senate being con structed on the simplest of all possible plans It consisted of 150 mem b named for life by the emperor, at his own discretion. Cardinals, marshals and admirals were 'also ex-offieio sena tors. As the pope confers the red hat, the curious spectacle was then pre sented of members of a national legisla ture appointed by a foreign prince.— hondon Daily News. Gladstone's Readiness as an Uratoj. Of the many anecdotes that are cur rent illustrating his amazing power of rising to an occasion, ono of many may be given which has the merit of being true. On the afternoon when he was to make an important motion in the house of commons, a friend, happening location him between two and three o'clock, found him just sitting down to make some notes of the coming speech. He laid aside his pen and talked for a while, then jotted down a few heads on paper, went down to the house before four o'clock, found himself drawn into a preliminary controversy of a very trying nature, in which he had to repel so many questions and attacks that it was past six before he rose to make the great speech. He then discovered that, as he had left his eyeglasses at home, his notes were practically useless, put them quietly back into his coat pocket, and delivered with no aid to his memory, and upon that one hour's preparation, a powerful argument interspersed with passages of wonderful passion and pHthos, which lasted for three hours, and will always rank among k his finest eflorts.— Bcribrur. J. Ismderer has stated to the French academy reasons for believing that the materials of tbe moon's surface are anal ogous to those of, the silicate.'rocks so abundant on our globe. How a JUan was I'rored a Pauper, A writer in Fruser's Mu