away, and her voice to die in the distance. My eyelids grew heavy, and I think I went to sleep; and oh, dear! when I opened my eyes again they were dark, and I could not see, and I heard only the noise of the barbarians over my head as they were going out of church."

"What a strange dream, child!” exclaimed Sister Paulette, in a wondering

tone.

"It was no dream! She has seen the Shepherdess of the Honeystone!" exclaimed Sister Scolastica, in tones of the greatest excitement. "The Little Shepherdess has again appeared, and the eyes of the sightless have beheld her! Glory be to God! The day of hope draweth nigh! The sin of the accursed will soon be expiated!"

Dropping upon her knees, Scolastica poured out thanksgivings to the Virgin and all the Saints, while fast through the convent rang the strange tidings, and from cell and refectory and court-yard the old nuns flocked together, and stood gazing with awe and wonder on the blind child, to whom the vision had been vouchsafed.

"Who is the Shepherdess of the Honeystone, Sister Paulette?" inquired Arla, bewildered by the unusual excitement around

her.

They say she is the protecting spirit of our convent and of the valley," Sister Paulette, who was regarded as a great sceptic, rather doubtfully replied. "Perhaps it's trne. I don't know much about her myself."

"But I do," interrupted Wanda. "I'm sure the Abbess used to tell us often enough how, more than a hundred years ago, when the valley was wasted by barbarians, and food was not to be had, and all

the people who were left were starving, the Little Shepherdess with her lamb used to stand every morning on the peak of the Ural Mountain and pour the honey in floods down the rock, until every one had satisfied his hunger and filled his jar for the rest of the day. And she never missed a day until the grain had ripened again, and the fruits were red on the trees; then the honey ceased to flow, and the Shepherdess was seen no more. But ever since that time, you know yourself, the Urall rock has been called the Honeystone; and the Abbess always said that when she appeared again some great good or great ill would happen to the convent or the valley."

As Wanda triumphantly ended, and Sister Paulette ventured to express a doubt of the strict authenticity of this legend, she was met by such a whirlwind of exclamations from all the nuns as completely silenced her. There couldn't be the least doubt of its truth. Wasn't the name of the Honeystone sufficient proof of it? Besides, the very child in her arms, blind though she was, had seen the Shepherdess. And what did the prophecy declare? And Wanda repeated, with a solemnity which carried awe to every heart, the prophecy which had been current in the convent time out of mind, and which was as religiously believed in by the nuns as was their Pater Noster:

When sightless eyes shall see the light
That shines on Urall's lofty height,
And to her breast, with loving fold,
The spectre Shepherdess shall hold
A sightless maid of mortal mould,
Then shall the doom be ta'en away
From Urall cloisters old and gray,
And they who watch and they who weep
In peace shall wake, in peace shall sleep!

Caroline M. Sawyer.

C

ONCERNING the judicious expenditure of money, opinions are as diverse as persons. A man who builds a house is open to the criticism of every passer-by. From the time the spade is put into the ground till the last load of goods is housed, his taste, and his wisdom regarding the expenditure of his money are called into question. From stone foundation to turret, everything is inspected and commented on. And what is true with regard to individuals, is true in public affairs and in corporate bodies. A public building in process of erection is not only criticized by individuals, but the press, the organ of the many, makes itself heard. There are suggestions in this organ, there are criticisms in that; the architect gets badly handled here, the building committee is ridiculed there. Public improvements are made and up start all sorts of opinions. Nothing could be more foolish, nothing could be more wise; it is something which is a needless extravagance, it is something for which there is imperative need; it is something which outrages sentiment and taste, it is something which the greatest good of the greatest number requires.

And this is as it should be. It is well that there should be such criticisms, they keep the public mind alive and active, and they give to all responsible people a wholesome sense of their accountability. So let us not hinder the free expression of opinions, for thereby, oftentimes, may much wisdom be gained.

These few general remarks we have thus made, do but preface what we intend to say. We intend to exercise this right of criticism by speaking of judicious expenditure and mistaken economy as shown by a denomination. We don't know whose sensibilities we may hurt in what we have to say, possibly as in sermons, no one person will make the application to himself, but will pass it along to his neighbor. How ever this may be, like the ancient mariner, the spell is on us, and we must speak. There is an investment of money which gives a better interest than dollars and cents, and there is an economy which is a

fearful waste and overreaches itself. The expenditure which gives to a denomination respectability and an honorable place among other denominations, that raises its standard morally and intellectually, that cultivates in it a love for what is good and true and beautiful, is a better investment than any fund; for it is true that all these desirable conditions are greatly aided by money, and it is a poor economy that begrudges it for these purposes.

This much being advanced, it becomes us to see what is our position in these respects. Are we not in some instances acting on the penny wise and pound foolish system? And we would ask those in authority in denominational matters, if, as private individuals, they were building a house, or laying out a garden, or having any service done, they would not consider it a more judicious expenditure to consult fitness and capability, thereby securing grace, beauty and permanence, than to make a regard to dollars and cents their

sole aim?

Boston is the stronghold of our denomition in New England; when strangers come here and wish to be shown our headquarters, should we not have a pleasant and commodious room in which to receive them? And when people come up to associations and denominational gatherings, should they not have some pleasant apartment where they can greet each other and hold friendly converse? When a room is fitted up does it cost much more to pay a little regard to beauty and pleasantness? We think of these in our own private affairs, why not here as well?

The difference between a pleasing carpet and a rough matting is but a few dollars in money. House painting is not so expensive an art but it will pay to consult taste and elegance a little in employing it. Tables and chairs and a few of those simple things that go to make a room pleasant and attractive would not impoverish us. Indeed, we hold that speaking after the manner of the world, these things pay. We are sorry to be obliged to own that in respect to our denominational accommodations we have

retrograded. We remember when we had more pleasant and commodious quarters than now. Is it that we are poorer, or is it from a mistaken parsimony or an unthinking neglect? For these things do go a great ways towards denominational prosperity. We are valued by others at the price we put upon ourselves, in a certain sense. If we herd in close uncomfortable quarters, if we pay no regard to the beauty and commodiousness of our surroundings, we fail to command that respect which we should strive to secure.

We are not advocating extravagance of outlay. What we ask does not depend upon the amount, but upon the judicious expenditure of money.

We remember when the foundation stone was laid of one of our principal colleges. That was a happy day for our denomination. The site was on a hill bare of trees, but commanding one of the most extensive views in all the country round. The building was erected and trees were planted on the grounds; but they were not properly cared for, certainly they did not flourish. Years were as good as lost on those trees; and a year's growth lost on a tree when it is needed to beautify and adorn, is a lost opportunity. It is not enough to buy a tree and dig a hole and place the tree in the ground and leave it for Nature to take care of. Nature does things on a larger scale. Give her time enough and she will get up a forest for you, and you need not go around with your pruning saw and your spade; but Nature does not lay herself out on college grounds. She gives you rivers and ponds, but she walls up no reservoirs to distribute the grateful elements to the cities around. She gives the grand forest primeval, but if you have a bare hill given to you, and you wish to make it beautiful to the eye of the beholder, you have no time to lose. Nature will work with you, but she takes no such contract by herself. Give her time and her own way, and though the hill and plain be bare of verdure she will cover them, but she will smooth down no inequalities; she never made a lawn like Cushing's, nor rounded and turfed a terrace with a mathematical eye. All such contracts as the beautifying of grounds,

landscape gardening, ornamental shrubbery and trees, she takes in connection with her twin sister, Art, and their laborers are taste, diligence, judgment, never-ceasing care; all to be ordered by some ruling mind who appreciates the beautiful and is a perfect artist in ground, trees, grass and water, - all out of door things. Now in this art we fear this college has no professorship. As we have said, the trees did not prosper. The soil perhaps was hard and uncongenial, but, to those who understand the nature of the attempt, it is easy to assimilate trees and soil, much easier than to find a capacity for the dull, stupid intellect that it is hoped a college course will make brilliant and keen. But spite of all difficulties, as the years went on, there grew to be a display of trees just respectable, but not a luxuriant growth. Still the requisite taste has never been displayed in their arrangement, nor suitable care bestowed on their growth. Considering the number of years that have passed, we can but think the place should have a more finished look. It is a judicious expenditure to have a place properly laid out in the beginning by a suitable person who can see how the finished thing will look, that the expense of doing and undoing need not be continually incurred. There is nothing that so requires to be done at the proper season as gardening. A week lost and your opportunity for the year is gone. If you wish to lay out a lawn and secure a good fine turf, the golden opportunity must not be lost. It is the same with the planting of the tree, and the shrub, and putting the seed into the ground; and of these times and seasons who knows?

Not your Board of Government, whose dealings are with quite other things; they cannot be on the spot to direct the laborers, and there is no such injudicious expenditure as undirected and ignorant labor. For ignorance works blindly. It plants a tree directly where it obstructs a fine view, instead of studying the grouping of trees for fine effects. In time the mistake is found out and the tree must be transplanted, and most probably dies in the process, and tree and labor are lost.

Who does not know the peril of letting

one of your ignorant gardeners loose into your grounds? "Be careful, there are bulbs here and roots there." "Yes, oh yes indade, ye needn't be afraid, I knows all about it." You leave him to go to your business, and return at night to find that he has dug up your strawberry plants, and dug carefully around your last year's bean poles; that he has thrown away your ranunculus for weeds, and reset the dead stalks of last year's geraniums; and he is struck with utter amazement when you forbid him to scrape your trees and trim the lower branches of your evergreens. Because a man calls himself a gardener, and can raise vegetables and perhaps set out a tree, does it follow that he can tell the best means of producing fine effects with trees and shrubs and lawns, on a surface of acres? It is a judicious expenditure to employ the talent that can see the completed work from the beginning. We do not in our buildings work thus at hap-hazard. What would be thought of a man who dug his cellar without knowing what sort of a house he was to put upon it?

Do you say it is more necessary to endow professorships and form libraries and schools than to employ the services of a professor of gardening? What do you call a judicious expenditure? Possibly the building, with its curious architecture, was a judicious expenditure. We do not object to the building. But passing down the hill to the left, we saw a pile of coal ashes, broken drain pipe, old kettles and boilers, making the place a sort of Gehenna, and we thought it would be a judicious expenditure to level the unsightly pile, cart in loam, and make over the place of abomination a soft, green turf. Now were the choice given us, fantastic gables

on the roof or the money expended on the grounds, we should say by all means the latter. But we think there can be no call for such economy. It is a good investment to make the place lovely and attractive, it is not money thrown away; every year it is neglected is money lost. The longer that Gehenna is left the more it will cost to reclaim it. And the time is now. We do not plead for anything that is extravagant or costly. So much that is lovely and pleasing can be had for a small outlay, if the matter be placed in proper hands. Beauty, grace and fitness can be had without costliness of material. A line of soft, velvety grass is prettier than any granite curbing, if but one of these can be had. There is nothing in all nature so lovely as the green sod she gives us so unsparingly. There is no labor of art so effective as that she copies from nature. To one who understands the fit arrangement of things even the weeds are lovely.

We once saw in among the flowers at Mount Auburn what we had always looked upon as an unsightly weed. It was the "chandra" or "apple Peru." Here, under cultivation and with other flowers, it was a flower itself, and we saw for the first time its beauty. Trees, shrubs, and green grass,- what cannot taste and skill do with them, and when to these we add flowers and color, we have all loveliness!

And these things are educators. They are the refreshment after toil, the rest to the tired brain, and as much a need, a necessity as libraries and museums. Then let the money given for such things be judiciously expended, and may all blessings fall upon those who have it in their hearts to give in such a worthy cause.

N. T. Munroe.

Mary C. Peckham.

field," that is, examine them closely, meditate upon the nature of their growth, examine with critical attention their origin, their structure and their end; and above all, admire that beauty which excels the royal robe of Solomon. This, in part, we purpose to do in the present article. But, introductively, we wish to make a remark, which, though not logically connected with our subject, yet cannot be separated from our guiding quotation. That our Lord was a reformer, all admit. We all seem to understand that from an intellectual elevation which no human being has been able to attain, from that vastness of thought which no one has fully grasped, he saw the magnitude of his work, and selected his instrumentalities in accordance with the grandeur of his designs, and the long centuries which must pass before his conceptions could be realized. We are startled to perceive that those deep and difficult problems in philosophy and religion, which such men as Plato could not solve, are to him like

vain show and value of earthly things, he announces the sublime truth that selfsacrifice is the mightiest of regenerative forces.

Language like that we have just written seems intelligible. But our ideal of a reformer is often that of a rough, bold and aggressive person, all unused to the "melting mood." We do not always give him due credit for the finer and gentler feelings. But very frequently our ideal reformer does not harmonize with the actual Christ. His love for children wins our affections more than his miracles convince our intellects. His love for flowers indicates a delicacy and refinement, a love for the pure and beautiful which has no parallel in the history of bold reformers.

Herein, too, the Lord shows that sympathy with humanity, so characteristic of his life and religion. The love of flowers is an instinct of our race. In the most remote antiquity of which we have any knowledge, before those wandering tribes that planted