often weighed terribly upon my mind until I feared they would escape my lips, in the very fever of my determination to retain them. Sometimes I vowed to divulge the whole matter, and remain a hated, feared and marked man all the rest of my days. One day I had been called upon to examine a document to which was attached the name of a man enjoying a reputation for probity and honor second to none in our community, a man personally known to me, and whom I loved and trusted as a brother. With what horror, then, did I perceive that at the moment of affixing his signature to this paper, schemes for escaping the payment of his obligations, even involving the commission of crime, were running riot in his brain. Heartsick, I hastened home, anxious to believe I was the victim of a delusion, yet unable to recall a single instance in which my now hated gift had deceived me. It was Margaret's mother who, in this instance, proved herself my good angel. "Have you never observed, Ernest," she said, feeling sure of the cause of my gloom, "that when you hold your paper low, beneath your eye, and still keep your head erect, the clairvoyant perception is much less clear? I have watched you, and made it out to my satisfaction. When you bend toward your paper, or hold it in such a position that a straight line could be drawn from the top of your head to the manuscript, you see much more plainly. Is it not so?" Surely it was. Why had I never observed it before? Especially as I had noticed that sometimes when lying down upon a sofa to read manuscript, the double consciousness nearly left me. Since then, adopting the simple conclusion that the organs of my abnormal vision lie near the top of my head, I have acted upon her suggestion, and have given the faculty so little play that it is gradually growing weaker, and in time may entirely disappear. I shall not regret it. Helen Barron Bostwick. WH Music in Education. HEN we listen with delight to the sweet, inspiring strains of music, that issue from human lips, from cunning instruments roused by human hand, or from any source whatever, we but exercise a faculty, or indulge a taste, that we possess in common with our kind. After the meagre supply of the merest physical wants, there is nothing that has power like music, to move the hearts of all alike. There are among the motley throng inhabiting this world of ours, many who can look unmoved upon the grandest scenes in nature, and listen stupidly to the most godlike eloquence; who can witness human suffering and sacrifice with no answering throb of sympathy, and see no beauty in picture or statue. There are souls so dull or rather, souls that are and have been so unfortunately surrounded by crushing circumstances, or that have misimproved their opportunities that they are unable to comprehend with their undeveloped powers, the vastness of the beauty and power represented in any of these things. The But there is something in music, that they all understand and appreciate, as it were by common instinct. The aged and the young, the refined and degraded, the wise and the unwise, are swayed by the power of song as by nothing else. All forget their peculiar troubles and cares. ragged child is no longer miserable, but for the time is clothed, and warmed, and at home. The poor girl who gave her last penny to one more needy than herself, and the vagrant boy who knows not where he shall obtain his next meal, or find lodging for the coming night, listen with no thought of to-morrow's need. The aged forget their hoary hairs and painful step, and the young their vanity, mischief, and eager hopes. The wise think not of their learning, nor the unwise of their ignorance. The proud drop their haughty looks, and the wicked in pursuit of evil ends pause and listen, while the downtrodden and humble look up with sudden conviction that they are God's children, notwithstanding all. This is the miracle of song. This love of sweet sounds, so universal, is all one with that love of peace, order, beauty and truth, in which the noble and truly educated soul lives, moves, and has its being. This love is one of the natural characteristics or attributes of the human soul. It lies to a greater or less degree dormant in all, but in all it is awake to the influence of harmonious sound, however insensible it may be to beauty of another kind. One, it is true, enjoys more intensely than another. One may be able to give but little expression to the harmony in his heart, he may have as little desire as ability to sing or to play himself, yet he enjoys according to his capacity the music that he hears, while another may compel the world to pause and listen with rapture and awe to notes that seem inspired of Heaven and worthy of an angel's lyre. as Poetry and music are closely allied. Few excel in either, and not many make any attempt in that direction, but some one has said, and truly, that all write poetry at some time in their lives. Yes there are moments of inspiration to all, when they write, or would if they could wield the pen true poetry as any that has found its place on the deathless page. How many a prosy soul has found his thoughts involuntarily coming into numbers, and his numbers set to music, as he passed through the very bright or the very dark places of experience. Other souls heard not the melody that ravished his ears, and cared not for it, but there was music for them also, according to each one's gift. The simplest music is that which sways all. The greatest artists enjoy the perfect unpretending harmony all the more keenly for their superior culture and taste, and those wholly unskilled, understand and enjoy it all the more easily for its simplicity. True music is one form of the soul's native language. No interpreter is needed. Whereever the notes are heard, they are understood alike by the people of each clime. This universal and innate love and appreciation of harmony is to me a beautiful proof of the revealed truth, that man is created spiritually in the image of God. Marred and defaced the image is, by human wickedness, yet strike this chord in any heart and it fails not to give quick and earnest response. Beautiful emblem this, and assurance too of the hidden sympathy, and unsevered relation, which all humanity bears to the universal harmony which God has ordained as the final result of his gov ernment. The art of music is the one which is nearest divine. This inwrought taste, or natural gift, crude as its manifestation is in most cases, may be indefinitely and successfully cultivated. There are few, if indeed any, who cannot learn to sing or attain some degree of proficiency in the science of music, if their education is commenced early enough, and is conducted with even moderate skill. I remember several years since taking my seat in the midst of a vast audience which had assembled at the call of one who was understood to be an enthusiast in music. Many nationalities, all ages, all possible temperaments, and all the various degrees of culture were represented in the crowd. We were assured that all people could sing, and ought to sing; and that it was the easiest thing in the world to make them sing. We all loved music. We should all sing in heaven. We might go on our way there, with songs in our hearts and upon our lips, as well as with everlasting joy upon our heads. Soon, there were distributed among us, printed sheets of music. A few moments of instruction followed, and soon to our mutual astonishment we found ourselves, all of us,singing together, and singing correctly. We sang all the evening, tunes both new and old, and when at last we rose with one accord to go out, and sang those grand old words, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow," there was no heart unmoved and no silent or inharmonious voice. I feel sure that all who were there must remember that occasion still, as I do, as one of the happiest hours of life. This is an example of what might be if people could be induced to coöperate with leaders who are imbued with the spirit of their work. I have often recalled that evening's sing ing, as an example of the singing that we ought to have, in all our churches, and that we could have if the musical talent of the masses could be reached and cultivated as it ought to be. The musical faculty should be cultivated not only because its exercise is one of the most exquisite of pleasures, but because it is a most potent means of intellectual and spiritual elevation. Whatever has power to arrest general attention, to move the masses, may be used for good. What lever have we like the power of music? It is fitly represented in ancient fable by the story of Orpheus. When he struck the chords of his lyre, the very trees and rocks moved in accord with the notes, and the ravenous beasts of the forest gathered gently around him to listen; and when he descended fearlessly into the palace of Pluto, at the sound of his golden shell the wheel of Ixion stopped, Tantalus forgot his torturing thirst, and the vulture ceased to prey upon the vitals of his victim, and the gods granted his prayer. Music is indeed a powerful ally to all good works and objects. The teachers of music are doing no common work, and they should have every aid extended to them that the hearty coöperation of the people can supply. How often is the hand of iniquity arrested by the elevating influence of music. How is order restored as by magic in a turbulent crowd, when good music is introduced. How all hearts join in one when some sweet familiar song is sung, how their hopes rise, and they feel more strongly the claims of faith and charity. Gather the vicious, destitute children from the city streets, and notice how they look with indifference upon all your maps and pictures, and turn a deaf ear to your words of counsel and instruction; but ask them to join in song and what intense interest you see at once, how the eyes sparkle, and how the soul that you thought almost wanting, glorifies every little face; and the lessons you would teach you can put in the words of the song and be sure they will not be forgotten. When it is wished to rouse the populace to a white heat of patriotism or zeal, you must put sentiments that appeal to the pop ular mind into fitting numbers, and set the numbers to music, that can touch the popular heart, and your object is attained. The children of the day school will study with double diligence, and learn with double facility, if the dull hours are interspersed with song. Even the multiplication table will quickly lodge itself in the brain of the dullest boy or girl, if you set the tedious columns to music. The educating, ennobling, uplifting power that good music could be made to be among the children of men can scarcely be estimated. This power has always been recognized to some extent. The Bible calls our attention constantly to the value of music and the duty of cultivating it. God speaks to Job of the time when the morning stars sang together; and "everything that hath breath" is called upon to join in the harmonious anthem of praise. Scipio in pagan story dreams of the music of the spheres, and a most glorious vision is unfolded to him. All who have to do with music are the better for it. They are not perfect, it is true, but they are better than they would be without that knowledge and practice. A knowledge of harmony in music has a tendency to promote harmony of theory and practice in all things. And a soul imbued with the spirit, will discover speedily harmony and symmetry everywhere, and in every thing throughout the government of God. It will discover that there is unwritten music in all the substance and phenomena of nature, and in the inner sanctuaries of life; music deeper, sweeter, and more exalted than any melodies of earthly invention. The loosened rock falls into the abyss below, the overblown tree goes down among its companions of the forest, the hoarse-toned thunder peals through the sky, but harsh as these sounds may seem, they join with the voice of the winds and the waters, and there is no discord. And comprehending that the harmony that rules in the world of matter, must be established and maintained in the world of mind, man hastens to put himself in accord with the universal law. A thorough knowledge of music, and a comprehensive view of the subject is education in the direction of all goodness and truth. It would be a blessing of the first magnitude to our land and world, if all were trained from infancy, to the study of music. Let then the voice of song be heard in every house. Let the piano, organ, harp and guitar, lend their inspiration and aid if you will; but, let us have all the people — as a means of education and of growth toward all that which is truly noble and beautiful trained to give expression to the sweet strains that their souls in their better moments hear. For they are the natural language of peace, joy and purity of heart, and they approach unto that perfect harmony which we cannot separate from our ideal of the order, light, and beauty that dwell in home as it should be on earth, and in Heaven above. A. 7 Chapin. Miserere. "Give me one ring of your golden hair, Ah, me! it gleams so brightly there,- "Let me touch the scarlet of your lips,— Only one little touch!" I cried. That kiss is thrilling my pulses yet, And 'twas hours ago she died. "Let me hold your hand, your dear little hand, For the rest of life!" I plead. The eternal shadows sweep between, And I hold the hand-of my dead. Maud Manning. L The Second Wife. FROM THE GERMAN OF E. MARLITT. IANE stood still and looked into these irregular but expressive features; she was about to reply, then suddenly the blood flushed over her face, even to her temples, and her large, bright eyes grew cold and hard as steel; under this fiery, eloquent gaze she would not enter upon such an exciting theme. Conquering a painful impression, she said, coolly and repellingly: "With such plaintive tones as I have just heard, it is impossible for me to think of a paradise. Who is the unhappy woman in that house?" The cheeks of the priest grew pale. Evidently irritated, he cast a sullen glance at the young lady, who, with a single proud turn of her lovely head, made herself thus unapproachable. This was the "Countess Trachenberg," with all her spotless ancestry behind her. "Will it not offend your proud feelings, my lady, to know that in Schonwerth an unfortunate is harbored?" said he, with sharp irony. "There is no one more unrelenting than the proudly virtuous woman, - well for her! But also woe to those who with their hot hearts have gone astray! I know this coldly chaste and censuring look; it cuts like a sword!” What words were these from a priest's mouth! He turned around and pointed towards the house with the cane roof, already lost to sight behind the rose-bushes. "Who now would believe that that paralyzed, stammering creature, whose feet and arms are already touched by death, once danced in the streets of Benares? She was a bayadere, a poor Hindoo maiden, whom a Mainau brought over the sea. This so-called 'Vale of Cashmere,' under a German sky, arose for her sake; thousands have been squandered in order to entice from her a smile, in order to make her forget the sky of her native land --" "And now she eats the bread of charity in this Schonwer'h, and is dependent upon that harsh woman for good or ill," murmured Liane, much excited. "And her child, who is abused-" IV. beg you not to judge so sharply in the presence of the marshal," he interrupted. "It was his brother who with this love affair gave such offence to the world. The man has been dead for years, but to this day the subject cannot be mentioned without exciting the old gentlemen into a fearful passion. He is a strict Catholic." "His strict belief, nevertheless, gives him no right to oppress an innocent child; and that that is done, I myself have been a witness," said Liane, undisturbed. At this moment they entered the dusky grove; Liane could not see the face of her companion, but she heard an embarrassed cough, and after a momentary silence he answered in broken sentences: "I have already designated that woman as an unfortunate she was faithless, like all Hindoos; that boy has no more claim on the house of Mainau than any other beggar who knocks at the door of Schonwerth." Liane said not a word more, and walked quickly towards the end of the grove; it was close and hot under the trees, and she had a painful feeling as if her companion's presence made the air still more oppressive. One of her braids caught, as she thought, on a bush; she would release it, but touched a hand which was instantly withdrawn. She almost screamed aloud; had the slippery body of a cobra really glided over her hand she would not have shuddered with more terror than from this contact. Beyond the trees, she shyly and involuntarily looked at the priest's face in the moonlight; it was very calm, almost stony. The short distance to the gate they walked silently together; when it closed behind them, the priest stood still; it almost seemed as if it cost him a struggle to express what he wished to say. "This Schonwerth is hot ground for the tender feet of women, whether they come from India or from a noble German house. My lady, a storm is going through the world, and the watchword is, 'Down with the Ultramontanes, the Jesuits.' They will - "My lady, for your own interest I must tell you that I am one of the worst of these, |