Now look in the cubbord an' find the little turnover I've baked fur Bobby."

The by munched his delectable lunch with apparent relish, his large, wistful blue eyes meanwhile resting with admiration on the new adornment of his mother's neck. All this I see and hear as I sit at the pine table by the corner window which has been appropriated to my use.

LETTER TO MR. JULIUS GARNETT.

GOSLIN GRANGE, July 18. Jude, Old Boy! I've struck a "bonanza" out here in the wilderness; the genuine gum and no mistake. Something that'll split old Mash to flinders. Got everything in train for working tip-top. Be ready to put the big licks into the headers, thusly-A Serial Narrative of Backwoods Life! Intensely Interesting!! Diamonds in the Rough!!! Rich Placer of Pure Gold, Yielding Three Hundred to the Ton!!!! "How is this for high?" You just keep cool thro' the dog days, and then prepare to give old Mash and his Picayune paper particular. 'fits, a genuine scorcher. Hurry up the cyclones. You needn't be afraid of over-drawing on that count. Get ahead of Mash anyway, besides folks like it on the sensational line. "Awful Desolation! Scene of Horror!! etc., etc." Add a touch now and then, it wont do any harm and the facts 'll bear hoisting a bit. To tell the truth, its arful. Has swept through three sections where everything was rolled up, and whirled off, from cows to meeting houses! enough to make a fellow's hair stand on end; got my despatches from C.? I sent 'em Tuesday as agreed. Give this note. to Sister Sue. Am going down to Big Lick to-morrow, to cross over to the mail route. Don't fail to give Old Masher "hail Columbia" now

and then, to keep his liver active, particularly on the "Fraud Question." Those deminition scrouges won't scruple to put "Wildspur" on the state ticket, so just bear down hard on them. We musn't allow 'em to succeed anyhow if we have to draw on our powder magazine.

The last issue was blurred; try to prevent any such botching in the press room again. Look to that devil of a boy, and see that he gets the weekly sent on time. There was some complaint on that score. Take good care of yourself my boy, and be thankful your "lines are fallen in pleasant places," and not in a halfcivilized part of our U. S. A., where an editor isn't considered any finer than common clay, or too elevated to serve as a target for a desperado to shoot at when anything is printed that goes against the grain of this gentry. Out in L.-where I passed through-such a quick operation was performed in an editor's sanctum.. The victim did not die but will be maimed for life.

Expect me when the lovely and lush September weather and fruit comes in. Always yours for truth, nobody,

but

PEABODY.

LETTER TO SISTER SUE.

Sue, my honey, just step into Wilson's and buy one of those cheap watches with fob chain, for a little boy out here, that's a jewel; and at Ranney's get the gayest flowered dresspattern of cotton, for the biggest woman you ever saw. Add a few extra yards so as to insure its being enough. Also two red bandanna handkerchiefs of generous size, say large enough for a flag at a pest house or an auction store, and send to me by express at Elling Creek right away. Have bills sent to the

office.

I'm here among the beauties of

nature, having a good time now. Had an introductory benefit with a fit of the "shakes." Thanks to Aunt Jemima Goslin's "nussin"" (you'll read about her in the "Dispatch" some day;) I'm all right now. cared for me like a mother, and deserves a dozen flowered gowns.

She

Suppose you had a fine time at the Springs?

Probably Dan and you were so infatuated with each other's company you didn't know whether the water was bitter, sweet or salt. Suppose you are so far gone by this time you wouldn't object to being thrown into the "lion's den" if you could enjoy the felicity of those king of beasts, together. Ah, well! the young will be thoughtless, careless and happy, even under trying circumstances. Make the most of your time, ye giddy, gay ones; "bime-by," as worthy Aunt Jemima says, you'll have to knuckle to the world's work in earnest as your. poor unworthy brother is doing. Expect me when you see me, and don't worry at all about my corporeal substance. I'm getting on all right. all right. Expect to go to Mormondom before fetching round at home. Now remember and get the traps, that's a darling. Tell Dan he's been to the Nile, (he'll be glad to be informed of the fact;) but he has never seen anything half so rich as I have found in nature out here in the wilderness. This from your wandering brother,

livered to the saints. Jude, second verse. That glorious faith is ours.

And the best way to contend for it, is by practically illustrating its glory in our lives. The value of a seed is best appreciated when enclosed in its own rich fruit; the value of truth when at the centre of the life it evolves. There is no logic like the logic of facts. These, nobody can deny, without denying his own eyes. And these can always be wielded, and everywhere, and by everybody, in the defense of our faith, without giving offense, or provoking our fellows to a pugilistic posture. By these we can contend, without seeming to be contentious; that the heart of bigotry shall be unconsciously mellowed into true heavenliness for the reception and nurture of the germ of a higher life. Logic, strong, keen, conclusive, such as our venerated fathers wielded, must not be laid aside; but it must be so tempered in the heart that it shall cleanse the heart, so charmed by the heart that it shall win the heart. heart. Our auditors are not sworn to be attentive and give an honest verdict, or even any verdict. It is our business to command their attention, and so awaken their consciences and confirm their moral courage, that they shall do both. And this in an age of what an able Orthodox divine calls "dead Orthodoxy" is sometimes a very difficult matter, demanding, on our part, much study, Biblereading, meditation and prayer, all the helps which God and nature have put into our hands.

But contend, we must. And we may well contend earnestly. For the cause is worthy. It is God's cause, not ours; and we are set for the defence of his character, as he is arraigned for despotism and cruelty at the bar of Orthodoxy. And yet it

is man's cause also. And we are to

show reasons why he shall not wander, an orphan, forever, through the dismal fiery realms of some under world, scathed, scorched, tormented. So did our venerated fathers feel, whose zeal consumed them, and who threw back benedictions upon the world as they went up, and whose spirit, I trust is working in the hearts of many of our young clergy. I say, so I trust. For I think it is God's plan that though the horses and chariot be ready, the old prophet shall not go up, till the young prophet is ready to catch his mantle. Yes, the cause is eminently worthy, and contend for it we must, contend we will, contend earnestly. And this we may well do hopefully, seeing that nature and her God, man's interests and his Creator's attributes, Scriptures written and unwritten, all are on our side; hopefully that the faith once delivered to the saints (but lost under the dark ages) shall be delivered unto all of them again. And the day of that glorious presentation will be a jubilee indeed-a day in which "mercy and truth shall meet together, righteousness and peace shall kiss each other;" when "truth shall spring out of the earth, and righteousness shall look down from heaven." Yea, when "the Lord shall give that. which is good,, and our land shall yield her increase;" when righteousness shall go before him; and shall set us in the way of his steps." "Amen! Alleluia!"

SPONGES.

M. J. S.

Sponges belons belong to the lowest class of animals; a creature which may be said to form the first link in the great chain of life which ends with man. This microscopic protozoon is by no means unfrequently to be met with in stagnant waters and vegetable infusions. It is a minute

semi-fluid mass, presenting scarcely any evidence of distinct organization, even even of the simplest kind. When the creature, in the course of its progress, meets with a particle capable of affording it nutriment, its gelatinous body spreads itself over and around the precious morsel so as to envelop it completely. The substance thus taken into this extemporized stomach undergoes a sort of digestion, the nutritive material being extracted, and the indigestible part being, as it were, sqeeezed out of the body. Of the mode of its reproduction nothing yet is known, save that it undergoes multiplcation by self-division, and that portions separated from the mass, either by cutting or tearing, can develope themselves into independent beings. This living speck of jelly, which can get along without legs, and which can convert any portion of its substance into a stomach, may be regarded as the type of the Protozoa.

In the living sponge the skeleton, usually composed of fibrous network, strengthened by spicules of mineral matter, is clothed with a soft flesh. Most sponges are strengthened by calcareous or spicules, and the variety of forms presented by these' bodies is almost endless. In the ordinary sponge, spongia officinalis, the fibrous skeleton is almost entirely destitute of spicules; but in the curious and beautiful sponge of Barbadoes the entire network of fibers is composed of silex, and is so transparent that it looks as if composed of spun glass.

With the exception of those that belong to the genus spongilla, all known sponges are marine, but they differ very much in habit of growth; some are only found at considerable depths, others live near the surface, and many attach themselves to rocks and shells between the tide-marks.

The average depth at which the best Turkey sponges are found is thirty fathoms; those of an inferior quality are found at lesser depths.

All the finer descriptions of sponges are obtained from islands in the Mediterranean, and the coarser descriptions from the Bahama banks and the coast of Florida. About one thousand bales, each weighing 300 pounds, are shipped annually from Nassau, New Providence. Sponge fishing is also carried on at Key West, in Florida, where about 100,000 pounds are gathered annually. Our great source of sponges, however, is the Bahamas.

The Andros Islands and the Cays are the great sponging districts. The sponge is usually found in grassy and rocky patches near the shores of this group. Crawls for cleaning these may be seen, constructed with stakes about two inches thick driven into the mud, and forming a square of twelve feet, sufficiently high to prevent the sponge washing out. In these the sponge is soaked and washed frequently, after having been buried in sand about a week or ten days, when it loses the black animal matter, which has an offensive smell. When first gathered the pieces are wrenched from the rocks with strong two-pronged fork fixed to a long pole. The sponges are of four kinds-yellow, glove, velvet and mop. The first is the most valuable kind; the second is the toughest, and much used in stables for its softness.

a

In 1859, 207,450 pounds of Bahama sponges were imported into the United States. At Nassau, New Providence, it may be seen in vast quantities on clear days spread on the roofs of houses, and hung upon fences to dry. All the sponges which are hawked around our streets for sale, either come from Key West or Nassua. Scientific American.

TO GO NO MORE OUT.

Young Mrs. Mary Selden decided to take the longest road to church that pleasant morning, when most church-goers were walking down the avenue with brisk tread aud happy faces. The very breath of spring lent its joyous charm to the sunny air. Young men and maidens, fathers and mothers and little children filled the sidewalks. Mary's eyes saw them all with a terrible headache. Just three months ago a manly form walked by her side to this same church. Just three months ago, lacking one day, and the idolized husband and father was brought home to her, wounded and senseless, struck suddenly down by a serious accident, and with a brief moment of consciousness, a loving "Good-bye, Mary, dear," had closed his eyes on earth forever.

All the expressions of regret and pain that she had ever heard seemed commonplace and meaningless to the poor, stunned wife, so she said nothing; only walked the floor with quick, nervous tread, no tear falling from her strained eyes, and answered, "I don't know, I don't know," to every question. That her darling had been snatched away from earth was enough to deprive life of use and meaning. She lived, yes, and took care of the little ones, ate and slept a little, and went through the days somehow; but, oh, what living none but a widow's heart knows!

If he had been less tender of her, sometimes careless, or complaining, or unkind, like many another husband, the parting might have been less painful. But when had anything but love and tenderness been shown her by this careful, thoughtful, unselfish friend? If life would only end soon!

Her long veil fluttered in the gentle breeze, her hands were clasped in

pain, as, unheeding the passers-by, she murmured, "My God, my God, hast Thou forsaken me?"

Heavier than any trial since that overwhelming one was the giving up of the pleasant home to which John bad taken her as a bride, and which, though not luxurious, was filled with comforts and most dear with its many memories of happy hours. But it could not be kept up. The income of the small sum, to which John had intended making a generous addition next quarter, would not allow a home in the street of brown stone houses. The big sleepyhollow chair, on whose cushions she could always picture that dear head, the cozy library table in the corner devoted to Joan-all these must be changed from their familiar surroundings.

Mary had walked up and down the streets all the week, had visited the real estate agents' offices, and carried permits to dozens of houses, it seemed to her. She looked all about in favored localities for the familiar sign, "To Let," until she wept in fatigue and bitterness. No house could look like the old one. This was narrow, the other cheaply finished, the next had gloomy surroundings. Was she not sufficiently miserable without this added burden? Why did the Lord allow her to be deprived of the home that was full of reminders of her lately happy life?

Down in their quiet block of homes there was always a faint hope that somehow it might be true, after all, that some day John's footstep might be heard on the stair. A strange ring, that sounded almost like his, brought a momentary ple sure. His slippers and lounging jacket were in the usual place; the overcoat was in the hall; the canes and umbrellas were in his closet. They would never look the same, never in the same

way give way give her pleasure in another house.

The blocks she was passing were like her own-genteel in appearance and bearing every trace of refinement and comfort within. Down the steps into the sunshine came proud fathers and mothers, leading their little ones. They did not even notice her look of misery.

She reached the old church at length, and took a seat in the familiar pew. Alone here, as elsewhere, and she was still so young. Her

heart was full of bitterness and re

pining. Why, oh why?

The organ voluntary, the anthem, the prayer of the loved pastor, fell on her ears unheeded. But when the minister announced his texts, "He shall go no more out," "A place prepared for you," Mary's attention was arrested. She had thought herself quite too weary and heartsick to follow the preacher's thought, and had come to church this morning from force of habit rather than to hear God's word.

"This earthly house may be dissolved," the preacher was saying. "Its fair walls may become food for flames; its pleasant rooms become fearful by reason of dreadful disease. Its charming outlook is at the mercy of a neighbor. It may pass from your hands into those of a stranger. Why, then, cling to it so fondly?

"Why not turn your eyes upward, heavenward, to the mansion which is spoken of as a definite abiding place, not to be changed with the changing season, nor subject to the caprice of fortune, but ever stable, immovable, unchangeable, from which the child of God shall go no more out? Built by God Himself, lighted by the brightness of His glory, sustained by His everlasting arm, what more can His child desire?

"There shall meet you the lost