My Father's I'ortratt. loved my father dearly, end he loved me dearly too | *d new, I have hie portrait, there la nothing olae w* do fo longing; ae, looking In the fare Of uiy dear, old, reverend father, fraught with love and grace, 1 remember when, tn childhood, how he amllod and oft admired Mv little ohtldlah, winning waya, and did what I deal red. And only onoe he chlded me, for eomethlng done ami ea; end when my eyee with tear* were washed he wiped them with a klia. ■e wore a dark blue mantle, my eyee behold It yet, Ad clerically ho atrodo the path until the nun did net. Ia hli hand he held a pajwr, a abort Marked o'er with Ink; Ophlfni waa hta hopeful eye, intent hla prayerful lip ; Beneath the blooming cherry tree he walked, and preached, and read. Preparing for tha Sabbath day tha sermon he had aiada. I thought It was eo queer In pa—to talk to that white cheat, And cautioned me to be quite erttll, and t>adc 1110 not to speak. • d on the Sabbath day, with "kerchief clean and white, I aaw him In the pulpit stand, and then 1 thought 'twas right; I now no longer .wonder at the strange white, papui sheet. For I seldom enter in the church, but there the aboel 1 nin t, To remind me of my father In the daye he need to preach. In turning over paper leaves, the gospel plan to teach. I am looking at his portrait, and "till I wonder yet If he looke down from yonder height upon the aheete he left. Mj wonderlnga will never cease, but I hope to see tha day When sheets are scattered to the winds, and men both preach and pray. CHICAOO, 111. ' Satan's Mother-in-law. In a certain town in Spain there once lived an old woman called Aunt Holo farnes. She possessed a crooked form, a liideous face, and a temper so ac cursed that Job himself would have been unable to endure her. Her neigh bors were so afraid of her that whenever •he appeared in tho door of her hon o ttiey all took to their heels. She was as busy as a bee, and consequently had no tittle trouble with her daughter Panfila, who was so lazy and so great a friend of Father Quiet that nothing short of an earthquake would move her. " Tou are as weak as tho tobacco of Holland," cried Aunt Holofernes to her daughter one morning. "A yoke of oxen are needed to draw you from your bs3. Tou fly from labor as from a pesti lence. All yon want to do is to stand at the window and watch tho boys in ho ■kreet But I've made up my mine" to torn over a new leaf with you. Get up directly, you shameless tiling, or JMI make you move more swiftly than tho wind!" C ■ ' Penflla yawned, stretched herself, 'J arose, and, when her mother's back was tamed, slipped out of the door. 1 Aunt Holofernes, without perceiving J the absence of her daughter, began ■weeping the floor, muttering as sho l did so: \ " When I was young, girls worked like mules." Whish, whish, whisli, went the broom. ' And they lived as secluded as nuns." Whish, whish, whish, went the broom. 44 Now, not one of them can be made ho work." Whish, whish. " .All they ever think about is getting i married." Whish, whish. " They are all—" At this instant Aunt Holofernea reached the porch, and beheld her daughter standing upon tho steps, mak ing signals to a youth across the street. The dance of tho broom instantly terminated in a vigorous blow across the back of the amorous girl, which worked the miracle of making her run. The old woman hobbled in pursuit, but no sooner did she rnako her appear ance in the door than the youth fled as swiftly as his legs would carry him. " You accursed love-sick fool! I will break every bone in your body !" ■ereeched the infuriated mother. "Why?" asked Panflla. "Because I am trying to get married? " "You shall never get married, no, never ! I will not allow it! " cried the hag, flourishing her broom. " Why will you not allow t?" asked Panfila. "Did you not get married, madam, and did not my grandmother get married, and, also, my great grand mother ? " " There is not a day of my life that I do not lament my marriage, for if I had remained single yon would never liavo ■•en the light, you impudent girl," re joined Aunt Holofernes; "and I wwh yon to understand that although I got married, and my mother and my grand mother, I am firmly resolved you shall not get married, nor my granddaughter, ■or my great-granddaughter." In these delightful colloquies tho mother and daughter passed their lives, without any other result than that tho mother each day became more ill-tem pered, and the daughter more enamored On one occasion, when Aunt Holo fernes was engaged in cleaning linen, she •ailed to Panfila to help her lift from the fire a kettle of boiling lye. Panflla, instead of obeying, ran to the door to listen to a song wliich at that instant a well-known voioe t>egan sing ing in the street. Anct Holofernes, seeing that her daughter (lid not come to assist her, grasped the kettle and tried to pour its contents u, wm tho oloth; but Hhe was very old and weak, and the fiery liquid, instead of entering tho straining basket, fell upon her feet and burned them se verely. Hhe dropped the kettle and gave vent to a shriek of agony, which speedily brought Panflla to tho spot. " Accursed one! twioo accursed one! tiirice accursed one 1" screamed tho old woman, transformed into a basilisk " You can't think of anything except getting married. May Clod permit that you may marry the devil 1" A few days later a young man, coming from no one know where, made his ap pearance in the town. He paid ardent court to Panfila, and soon proposed to her. Panfila, wild with joy, accepted him. Ho entreated Aunt Holoferoeß to give her consent to tho match, but the old woman savagely refused. Then ho gave her several valuable presents (he was reputed to be immensely rich), and Bho reconsidered her refusal, and reluct antly gave him permission to marry her daughter. Preparations for the wedding were at once commenced. While they were in progress tho voice of tho people began to rise in denunciation of tho stranger. It is true that he was handsome, and generous, and affable, and was not above clasping in his white, jeweled fingers the black, horny palms of tho humblest laborers ; but they were not to bo won over to him by his courtesy and conde scension ; their opinion of him, though AS rough, was also as hard ami solid a3 their hands. The more Aunt Holofernes gazed at her future son-in-law, the more she disliked his looks. In spite of his thick hair, her keen eyes detected upon bU cranium certain protuberances that are not to be seen upon the fieada of solute, and she remembered with dread those terrible words that she had hurled at lie? daughter that memorable day when she burned her foot with the boiling lye. At length the wedding-day arrived. Aunt Holofernes had made cakes and refections—tho first sweet, and the lat ter bitter; she had provided an olio podrida for dinner and a harmful pro ject for supper ; and she had prepared barrel of wino that was very mellow ana generous, and a plan of conduct that wu very far from being entitled to those epithets. When the newly-married couple were about to retire to the nuptial chamber, Aunt Holofernes called her daughter aside and whispered these words in her ear : "As soon as yon get in your room fas ten all the doors and windows, and close every aperture except the keyhole. Then take a branch of blessed olive and wave ♦ r.er your husband. This ceremony is customary in weddings, and signifies that within the house the man is to l>e in subjection to the woman. Panfila, obedient for the first time in her life, promised to do all that her mother commanded. When the bridegroom saw the branch of olive in the hand of the bride ho lit tered a shriek of terror, glanced wildly around in search of some place of exit, and then made a frantic dive through the keyhole; for be it known that the husband of Panflla was, as Aunt Holo fernes had suspected, the devil in per son. The sable individual is accredited by fame with a great deal of knowledge, but he learned to his cost that his mother in-law knew far more than he. Just as he was congratulating himself on having made his escape, he found himself a close prisoner in a l>ottle, the mouth of which the old woman hod applied to the key hole. In tones most humble, and gest ures most pathetic, he entreated her to set him at liberty ; but she resolutely re fused. nobbling tip a neighboring mountain she deposited the bottle upon the summit, shook her withered fist affectionately in her son-in-law's face, and returned home rejoicing. On the summit of that mountain his Botanic Majesty remained ten years. During that time tho earth was as tran quil as a pool of oil. .Everybody at tended to his own business instead of his neighbor's; robl>ery eamo to bo a word without signification; weapons moldored, gunpowder was consumed only in artificial fires, the prisons were empty ; in fact, during this decade only one deploreble event hapixmed—tho lawyers all <'ied of starvation ! But, alas! this happy period could not last forever. Everything in this werld has to have an end, except tho discourses of some eloquent orators. Tho end of this enviable decode was brought alxout in the following manner : A certain soldier had obtained per mission to visit his home, which was in the same town in which tho events wo are narrating transpired. The road that he took wound around the base of the lofty mountain upon whose summit the husband of Panflla was imprisoned. Reaching the foot of the mountain the soldier determined to cross it instead of going around it. On arriving at the summit he beheld the laittlo in which the son-in-law of Aunt Holo fernes had for tho last ten years dragged out a horrible existence, curung all mothers-in-law past, present and future, and composing and reciting satires against the invention of cleansing linen with lye. The soldier picked up tho bottle, held it np in the light, and per ceived tho devil who, with the lapse of years, fasting, the hot rays of the nun, and in ten ae mental suffering, had be come as withered OH a dried plum. " What monstrosity is this?" he ox claimed, in wonder. "I am that honorable and much nlniHed personage whom men call the devil," humbly and courteously replied the captive. "My wicked motther-in luw—oh that I had her now in my claws! —lias kept ine imprisoned here for ton years. Bet mo free, valiant war rior, and I will grout you any favor you may ask of me." " I wish nil honorable discharge from the army," said the soldier. " You shall have it. Let me out now as speedily as jsissible, for it is a mon strous shame to keep shut up, in this revolutionary time, the foremost revolu tionist in the world." The soldier half uncorked the bottle. From the opening thus made came a mophitio vapor which almost suffocated him. Ho sneezed violently, and with the palm of his hand gave the cork a blow which submerged it so deeply that the bottom of it struck the head of the devil; causing him to give utterance to a cry of pain. "What are you doing, you vile earth worm?" ho exclaimed. "Let me out ns you promised ! " ( " Hold a bit!" said the soldier. "1 think the service you ask of me is worth a larger reward than you have offered, | In addition to an honorable discharge from the army, I desire a thousiuid i doubloons." " lou avaricious hound, I have no money !" cried the devil. The soldier looked incredulous. "Hy Satan ! by Lucifer ! by Beelze bub ! I haven't a single maravedi 1" i screamed the devil. " Haven't a single maravedi I You're u great monarch, you are I" said the soldier, contemptuously. " I have no need of money, and so j I don't keep any," said the prisoner. "You have need of money now, for without it you will not get loose. Give i me 1,000 doubloons, and I will set you free ; refuse, and I will leave you here on this mountain." " I tell you I have no money 1" vocif | crated the devil. The soldier placed the bottle on the ground. "Well, I guess I'd better tie jogging | along,"he said. "Good-by." Ho lwgan to descend the mountain. "Coino back I come back!" whined ' the captive. " I have indeed no money, | but I will get soma for you." The soldier retraced his steps. " How will you got it for me?" he asked. "Set me free," said the captive, "and I will enter into the body of the Pi bices* of this kingdom. She will lie very ill, and the royal physicians will lie sum moned to attend her; bnt none of them will be able to cure her. At the proper time do you present yourself at the palace and offer to restore her to health, placing your compensation at a thousand ; doubloons. The King loves her dearly, j ami will accede to your terms. After you have doctored her for a short time 1 will go forth from her liody, leaving her in perfect health, and you will then re ceive your money." "Agreed," said the soldier. He uncorked thelnittie, and the devil departed and entered into the body of | the Princess. Bhe became very ill. Tho royal physicians were summoned, but were unable to euro her. Tho King was in the extremeat affliction. At the proper time tho soldier pre sented himself at thepalaco and offered I to cure the princess for a thousand donb j loons. The King admitted his services, but only on one condition—if the enre was not effected within three days tho presumptuous doctor was to lie hanged. To this condition the Boldicr, who was j very confident of success, raised not the I least objection. Unfortunately tho devil heard the bar gain. The first day passed without the re covery of the Princess. The uoond day passed and still she lay groaning ujion her couch. Then I tho soldier began to suspect that the I dovil intended to remain in the Is sly of j the Princess more than three days, for the purpose of having him hanged. But he did not despair. When the supjxised docfor called on tho evening of tho third day he beheld a scaffold in front of tho ]>alaee. Enter ing the sick-room, lis found the i>atient worse. The King commanded him to Ins seized and hanged. " Wait a moment," said the soldier, calmly; " I have not yet exhausted all of my resources." He left the palace and gave orders iu tho name of tho Princess that all the hells in tho place should bo rung. When ho returned the dovil nsked him ; "What are those liells ringing for?" " They are ringing for tho arrival of your mother-in-law, whom I liavo sent for," answered the soldier. The dovil shrieked, and fled so swiftly that a ray of light would have been un able to overtake him. The Princess, frood from her torment or, arose from her couch in perfect health. The King was overjoyed at her recovery, nod gnvo the soldier thrico the sum that ho had promised. Literary Construction. Bret 11 arte writes only when ho feels in tho mood, hut with most painstaking earo, sometimes inditing very quickly, sometimes slowly, and often, after all, re morselessly destroying what ho has writ ten. Wilkin Collins produces slowly and revises constantly, inventing his plots us rapidly. Ho will go over a pas sage again and again, bestowing equal share on Iho sound and meaning, and re duces his incidents mercilessly. Victor Hugo is never interrupted when writing, and will sit completely absorbed for hours, keeping steadily on, while ho is in tho humor. Miss Prod don writes only for a few hours daily, but devotes her life to acquiring tho technical knowledge necessary for so voluminous a writer, and her subject is clearly thought out before pen is put to paper, Hlio writes with her blotting pad on her knee, comfortably enseonsed in tho chair she loves, her copy very clear and free from corrections, and bus always u good store of skeleton plots on hand. Miss Edgeworth'# plan was to write a rough skeleton, which she placed before her father, and then wrote and re-wrote it until loath were satisfied. Mrs. Opie wrote slowly, but with great mental effort, and invariably reinl her compositions to friends before commit ting them to print. Charlotte Bronte's manuscripts were first written in a small lwok and then carefully copied, accord ing to the poet Rogers' plan, who ad vised to write little and seldom, re-read ing it from time to time and re-copying often. French writers, as a rule, devote each morning to their labors, and take a holiday the rest of tho day, sometimes resuming their work in the evening, and many of our English writers have a strong predelietiou for the midnight oil. Jowett recommends daily labors of short duration; and attention to diet and rides of health have, there is little doubt, a controlling power even over tho inspira tion of tho js-n. Jules Bimon, Corlyle, Gladstone, Buskin and hosts of others are early risers, and show by practice their belief that the morning hours, in which they are freshest and strongest, lw>th in inir.l and liody, should Iwi de voted to work. But the condition under which writers can produce their work ntost largely depends on constitution and personal feeling. While Victor Hugo could not lie disturbed, Paul de Cassngnae will send forth aluvt after sheet in the midst of the ehattering of friends with tho same piwer of mental concentration as Bir Walter Scott, who appears to have written some of the most vivid scenes in his novels, not only in tho midst of overburdened anxieties, but amid distracting interruptions. Wliilo Gombetta writes with only a sheet of pa jxir liefore liiin, no litter of pamphlets, and no apparent work of reference, Thiers used to sit surrounded hy books ; and Dumas keeps atemt him on a writing table, with many pigeon-holes, a store id all kind of tempting paper— deeming nothing so appetizing as fine piqier. Bunion sits at s large lint table as does Carlyle, with a rending easel near at hand ; and Wilkio Collins usee the same massive table whence Dickens sent so many of his works into the w< >r'd- On Kdueatlon. It is conceded that s knowledge of the German language is desirable. The same may he said of the French and Scandinavian languages. There are see tiotis of the United States* almost on tirely populated by immigrants from France, other and larger sections have been settled by Scandinavians. If we must have German taught in our com mon schools, the same argument applies to the language of France, Sweden, Nor way and other countries from which we are constantly receiving large accessions to our heterogenous population. But tho free schools of this country were never designed to afford a liberal education. There are, in the illimitable field of human knowledge, a vast num ber of desirable things with which these schools have no legitimate connection. The object of free public instruction is to fit children for citizenship and busi ness. It is not right to tax oil the jicnple for the benefit of z low. Only a limited iiumbci oi children have time to acquire more than n thorough educa tion, in what are called the lower En glish branches. They are compelled to leave school and go to work at fifteen or sixteen years of age. It is not right to tax the parents of such pupils, to give ornamental educations to the sons and daughters of wealthy jiarents.— Wiuhington Pout. OVR of the most thriving industries ot New York city is the importation of Ital ian beggars, for which the market is quoted firm and advancing. Tho dex terity, insinuating address and smooth mendacity of this particular brand of beggars have given them the call over all other kinds. If home industries are to lie protected at all thero is obviously need of the amendment of the tariff. Italian lieggars should stand a specific duty of 8100 a hod, an ad-valorem tax lining, for reasons unnecessary to mar tion. ont of the question. A toper stood in front of a type foun dry, spelling ont the sign as follows : "Type f-o-n-n, fonn, d-r-y, dry, foun, dry. Tha's jes' my condish'n. I'm that sort of a type myself—foun, dry." .tfaiiui'.tng a CUT*. it la often charged that people living In cities urc calloused and hard-hearted, but incidents transpire dally to provo that the contrary is true. A casein point happened yesterday morning on Gratiot avenue. An old man wn* leading a large, fat cow into the city. The noise and confusion excited her, and when lie reached Hustings street lie had more than ho could do. Twenty boys at once vol unteered to assist him without hope of reward and they cheerfully called to their assistance about half its many dog*. The cow had made up hu of some use in order to live—and I, alas ? have learned noth ing. I prefer a violent death to perish ing slowly by hunger." Iw the breach-of-pronnse suit of Mo- Pherson agt. Waruie, at Hhelbyville, Ind., the defendant's counsel took the broad ground that no woman of 57, which was the plaintiff's age, could jxib aibly form a romnntio love for any man. The jury sustained that theory by their verdict. Bricklayers and parson*. A Manchester curate, walking along a street in the dinner hour, passed a lot of bricklayers smoking their pipes, and he heard one of the men say : " I'd like to be a parson, and hav* i nowt to do but walk along in a black coui and carry a walking stick iti my hand, and get a lot of bruss." There was an approving laugh all around, whereupon the curat/ tur.v-d quietly around, and the following con versation ensued : "Ho you would like to be a parson How much do you get a w#<-k ?" " Twenty-seven hillings." " Well, I am not a rich man, but I will give you twenty-seven shillings if you will come with me for a week and see what my work is." The bricklayer did not iike the j. posal, but his mates told him it wa- & fair offer, and he was is/and to accept it. Bo lie reluctantly followed the par- n down an alley. " Where are yon going t" he asked. " To see a aick parishioner," was tha reply. " What is the matter with him ?" '' Hmall-pox." At this the man drew back. His wife and bairns had never had the smaii-p i, and he was afraid of taking it to then. " My wife and bairns have never ! .1 the amall-pox," said the curate. " Con.<> along." 'The man hesitated. " O, but you promised to accompany me wherever I went," urged tha curat. "And where be you going next?" asked the bricklayer. " To see a poor family huddled in one room, with the father dead of sear. t fever in it, and themselves all down with it ; and, after that, to see another par ishioner ill with typhus. And to-m r r 'W there will be a longer round." Thereupon the bricklayer begged to be let off. Twenty-seven shillings would be jioor pay for that kind of work, and he promised he would never speak ogain-t the parson* again.— lAtrhjletd (JhureK Whrt Shall the Hoj* Ho I The very basis of the healthful prog ress of any nation or country is the practice of some mechanical industry by the majority of the men. A certain pro portion may earn a living in commer cial pursuits or in the professions, and seme may procure a living as aaloon keejiere, bar-tenders, loafers and tramps. But very few can be supported in idle ness or in vice without laying a weary burden upon the industrious classes. Of late years a serious social danger is threatened by the action of the various trades' unions in re-fusing to admit boys into shops as apprentices. Some years ago there was a class of apprentices in every large shop or factory, and in tima those boys became skillful woikmen. Now the supply of such artisans is cut off at the very source, and the conse quence must lie—and is, for we are all discovering it in them-ist palpable man ner—inferior materials and workman ship in nearly every tool and machine that is purchased. "The farmer pays for all," not only for inferior work of untrained artisans, but for the support of idlo lioys and the vicious, dangerous men that idle youths must invariably beooine in time. Fortunately there i* one industry into which every boy will be welcomed. There is scarcely a farmer in the land who is not prepared and ready, nay, eager, to accept the services of an ap prentice for such a remuneration as hia labor may deserve. Board, clothes and a little spending money he is ready to give, and, in addition, to teach him the practice of his art, which is certainly as intricate as sawing wood or hammering iron. There are no trades unions on the farm. The farms w ill receive all the boys that workshops refuse, and the boys will have no cause in the end to regret tho ill-nature and selfishness that drove them there.— ltural Arte Yorker. Edison's Ileserted Village. Confident as Mr. Edison appear*, however, the lamp* used by him in his exjierimenta months ago still stand grim and silent witnesses of his failure at that time, and the people living in the neigh borhood do not entertain very great hopes of his success in the future. Al though Edison claims to have perfected his light, he has not thought it inenm ln>nt upon him to illnminate the neigh- Imrhood of his residence with ita rays, and the few residents outside of t,h professor's employes sjs-ak very dispar aginglv of hia ability to do so. Oil is in general use and is likely to remain so. Although Mr. Iklisou claims to have 10C men employed at his works, only on* man eonld lie seen in the workshop is which Mr. Edison received the reporter. Several buildings were grouped in th vicinity that were pointed out as work shops, but there were no sounds to indi cate thai they were used for the pur ]mae* claimed. It was s veritable "I>e aorted Village,"—Cbr. qf the New Fori TVu/A. I a man is determined to do tha best he csn, whether he drives a cart, conducts a business at a million dol lara, or preaches tho gospel, he cannot fail.