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The Blue and the Gray. By the flow of the. inland river, \Vliencc the 'lccts of iron have fled, Where the blades of the grim e-grass quiver, Asleep are the ranks of the dead. Under the rod and the dew Waiting the, judginentdlnyi Under Inc one the. Blue ; lilldCr the other the (tray. These. in the ratings of glory, Those in the gloom of defeat, All With the llllll-M'rblflfld gory, In the. dusk of cternitv meet. l‘ndcr the sod and the. dew, \‘l'aitiii;.r the judgincnt-day- ~ Under the laurel the l'lue; l'nder rhe willow the Gray. From the silence of sorrowful hours The desolate mourners Kc, novingly laden with flowers, Alike for the friend and toe. l‘nrier the sod and tin: dew, Waitin-hr the judqnienhlayi» Under the re. the Blue; Under the lilies the Gray. So with an equal splendor The morning sun ravs fall, With a touch, impartia. 1y tender. 0n the blossoms blooming: for all. Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judginent-day~ Broidcred with gold, the Blue ; Mcllowod with gold the Gray. So, when the summer (-allcth ()n forest and field of grain, With an equal murmur falleth The coolinpr drip of the rain. Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgvnentoay Wet with the rain, the lllue; Wet; with the, rain, the (fray. Sully, but not with uphrairling, The generous dccd was done; In the storm of the years that are fading, No braver, battle was won. Ullll ,r the sod and the dew, Waiting tlii' ju lgllll'lllwtlfly Under the l!I()-*(llllfl, the lllue ; Under the garlands, the Gray. No more shall the w:ir»cry sever, (hr the winding: river-s be red ; They banish our DIIKL'I' forever When they laurel the graves of our (lead. Under the sod and the dew, Vy'aifinu' the judgment-dayâ€" l.ovc and tears for the lllue ; Tears and love for the Gray 3 _. I. .._._, THE PPESSED MIN . I) I Many years ago, when I was a young clergyman, I became incumbent of a parish (in the coast. The living was but a petty affair, when looked at from a pecuniary: point of view, and the duties were arduous enough. There was no residence for the vicar's use; the lesser tithes were, small in amount, and not. very regularly paid; and the pliiisll consisted of a large noisy seaport, 1 full of dirt and vice. Under such circum~ stances, it is not surprising that few could be found who were willing to accept so unâ€" inviting a post, and that the benefice for some. months “ \vcnt abcgging.” My Rev. Joseph Hawlcy, was gazetted to the Vicarage of St. l’cfcr‘s. Sallyport. I was mad to take such prcferment, they said. Within the memory of man, the living of St. Peters had never been held by a resident parson. (lld I)r. Stall, that comfortable prcbcnary and pluralist, had pocketed the , lesser tithes for forty years, far away in his comfortable residence under the shadow of Mossminstcr Cathedral, and a starved curate had done the. work. In those days, zealous clgrgyrncn wcrc much morc rare than at present. I was no better than my coni- peers, nor do I wish to advance any preten- sion to superior merit; but .I was one of; thosc young members of the church militant who were piqued at the success of \Vcsley and \Vliitficld, and grieved at the. practical heathcnism of tlierriasscs of our countrymen. , That was why I became vicar of St. Peter's. guide, those poor inhabitants of Sallyport, and no less need of a word of sound advice at critical moments in their reckless lives. It was the wartime, the time of the great old war against France and the formidable ruler of France, and llri'a n was straining every nerve to cOpe with an antagonist who leagued against her almost all the might; of Europe. “'0 were. fighting too hard abroad to have leisure for reforming at home. The, moralityfif the seaports, in especial, wasc lamentably low ; there was a frightful . and there. was not . amount of drunkenness, much more religion than among some he- nightcd tribes of savages. lluring the first few months of my incumbent-y, I had an: uphill fight to wage, but I pcrscvcrcd, and was thankful for the results of my persist- ency. The people, who first stared at. me, or jccrcd inc, learned to respect their vicar, and, in some cases at least, to listen to and to like him. Sallyport was a town which depended partly on its merchant shipping, partly on that immoral trade. of priv.‘tt,cering which the long struggle against Napoleon. had fostered into a regular prcfession. Ac» cordingly, there were times when the, whole place rang,r with rcvclry, when the. fiddlcs played all night. at the sign of the. Valiant Sailor or the King George, and when the, exulting pri 'atccrsnicn flung gold and silver out. of the public-house windows, to be scrambled for by the mob without. There “are also iiincs when had luck prc~ vailcd, when all were poor aul dejected, and when my parishioners were in despair. I am glad to think that l did them some. good. The good they did me was probably in teaching me to entertain more hope and trust in human nature, however dcbased, than I had previously felt. They were, a kindly, generous race, that amphibious popur Iation, in spite of all their faults. I had been a twelvcmontli among them, and was tolernbly popular, when the old woman in whose house, I lodged came one. evening to announce that “Mary \Vadc wished to speak tonic, if I pleased." Mary \Vnde was shown into my little angular parlor, wlicrc, amid conchshclls, stuffed parrots, ostrich-eggs, and dried cutv file-fish, l was bus ' with my immature ser- mon. “(lood evening, Mary; what :anI do for~ w (lracious, what is the matter?” For Mary \\'ad(~, the instant. Mrs. Sims mons, the landlady. had closed the door, pf; the corner of her shawl to her eyes, and began to wee! and sob most bitterly, but in a silent, suppressed fashion, as if she feared to call attention to her grief. “ Hear inc 1" said I, rising from my :U‘lllr(.‘IlElIi‘, “ I am sorry to see you in such ullliction, poor girl. I hope your father is not. taken ill ‘1‘ For l knew that the ltllll‘l'll naval quarter muster, very frail and old, and I could not conjec- ture any more. probable cause for her agitar lion than the snapping of the slight thread ‘ which bound that. oped man to lifc. Mary herself was a prctry,dark eyed girl ofiiiodcst. demeanor, the. most regular church-gocr in the. parish, and the quickest and neatcst naedlcwornan in Sallyport. The wildest youngster in the town would step respectâ€" fully aside, as Mary Wade passed along the friends shook their heads whcn I, the ‘ They had sore need of a spiritual , Mary's only snniving parrnt, was i pavement with her work-basket and her i calm, honest eyes : and fierce tcrmagants, i whose tongues mauch their neighbors cruel» 1 1y, were forced to own that old \Vadc had I a p rttern daughter, and the best of nurses in his dotagc. l “ 0 no, sir; Heaven be, thanked, father's 1 well ; but I’m in great trouble, and indeed, , sir, you alone. can help me.” I “ lle sure that if it be in my power to iservc you, the will shall not be lacking,” said I soothingl '; thouin I had riot- the slightest idea what could have happened. lut I induced her to sit down and compose ‘ herself a little, before continuing her appeal for aid. Mary Wade sat; down, wiped away the tears that stained her rosy cheeks, and burst; out with a gasp: “ U sir, it‘s about Henry.” I know perfectly well who " Henry ” \ ‘as, and in what relation he stood to the. pretty, weeping petitioner. Henry Mills was one of the finest young seamen on all the coast; he was as b 'ave as a lion, and his character was unblemished. I had heard with pleasure that he had been promised a place as fourth officer on board an Indiam'in, and that on his return from his first vcyach was to pub- lish the bans of marriage between Mary ’\\'ade, spinstcr, and himself. The young lover I had seen but twice; he had been chiefly absent on coasting voyages; for al- though the privatccr captains were eager to secure sofirst-ratc a hand for their \‘cs- sols, young Mills had always declined their offers. ” Mary and her father didn’t likcj it,” the lad had had the moral courage to reply to more than oncoily-tongucd ternptcr, who told of French and Spanish prizes, of rich ships cinbayed among,y the sandy islets , of the West Indies, and of sailors who had 1 won a suckful of dollars by the flush of a cutlass, or the strapping of a pistol. Henry Mills was naturally of an adventurous dis- position, and I can well imagine. that he often looked with a sort of envy at the dev parture of of a. gallant ship's company, flush- ed with hope and confidence, on the then ifavorite errand of plundering the enemy. But old \Vadc, a. very sober and religious man, had scruples regarding this rough and wanton trade, scruplcs which his daughter shared, and which his intended sonâ€"invlaw respected. So, when poor Mary \Vade subbed out the words, “ Oh, sir, its about Iienry,” I was I fairly puzzled. “ Henry I” said I; “ surely he is at sea. and out of the Downs by this time ; and in a few months we shall hope to see him come i i back from (lalcutta to claim his wife. The ‘ Ultra was to have sailed a week since.” “ Ah, your reverence, but the CNN didn’t sail,” sobbcd Mary; “ and now my poor, l dcar Ilcrii'y will be taken by the press-gang, ‘ and sent off to the fleet and sea, as so many i of our poor lads have, been, and as will be ‘ killed in these horrid wars. I shall never ‘ see him more!” And the. girl wept more pitoously than, lever, struggling,r the while to repress her“ sohs, lest Mrs. Simmons should hear them, L and grow inquisitive ; for my landlady, 1 though a good sort of woman, was an invet- l crate gossip, and publicity would be fatal to the plan which Mary had already formed in her head. A plan there was, and no bad one, to be. the device of a young woman of nineteen, whose life had liitbertobcen spent in the si'riplcst domestic duties. Ilut, be» fore coming,r to this notable scheme, which 5 will develop itself in due time, I must point 3 ‘out what was the danger against which it} vas directed. Men were in great request l i at that time. for the royal navy. The bounty 'st high, but the service, in those days of illogging and discomfort, was by no means‘ i so attractive as at present. It was on the, ‘ pressgaug that the Admiralty chiefly relied ‘ for manning the fleet, and at this particular period the iininbfâ€"wartender (frat-pm, comâ€" l niandcd by Lieutenant Barnes, lay in Sally- ‘ port harbor, and her crew were liusy 011‘, l shorc. As yet, the (Iraspcr's men had made but few captures, of able seamen at least, for the few sailors whom the town still cori- taincd were hidden away most carefully in artful places of concealment, and did not venture to stir abroad until the prcssgang i should be. gone. But Mary \Vade had just . learned the fact, that Lieutenant Iiarncs had discovered the hiding-place of a number i of a seamen, who were. stowed away in an - ' obscure publicliousc, in one of the waterside ‘ fsuhurbs, and that this preserve of human beings was to he pounced upon that very . night. i l " And lenry‘s there, sir,” said the. poor ,' lgii'l, in a. timid whisper m“ be, is there along; with the rest, and will be taken with tlicni. ‘ I () sir, it was so unfortunate, the delay about l this going up to London to join his ship. But the (WW proved to be. in want of some repairs in her riggii r; or masts, or something and is still in dock, and the captain wrote l word licnry need not conic up yet 1 and he was here when the Urns/u 2' came into port, ' and was obliged to hide like. the other sails 'i ors, because Lieutenant llarnesrâ€"utliat cruel man 7 had sent a party by land from Tide- mouth to intercept any poor fellows trying to escape by the road. And now they are 1 all shared, like birds in a net, and in a few l i hours they’ll all be in irons on board the? king's ship." 1 Iwas myself much alarmed by this an- nouncement. I had long taken a good deal , of interest in this humble pair of lovers; sonally, with the young iiiarincr, I still re» IlltllplllCS‘ 'hould be thus nipped in the bud, and Mary distress would have moved a‘ more callous observer than myself. l fried .to comfort her, by suggesting that “any Mills would be released on exhibiting”r his Written proofs that be filled tlicpost of fourth lofliccr in an Indianian; but Mary replied that this chance was denied him; he had, ‘no written appointment to show, nothing, but the captain‘s letter, and Lieutenant llarncs» a hard, overbearin;,r man, (Ir-tested . by all the seafaring population of that coast rs-vvould laugh his expcstnlzil. ons to scorn. “ I heard, sir,” said the girl, “ that the. lieutenant. was specially anxious to get. my , “ gregos,” and with glazed hats slouclicd ‘ over their faces, sprang forward from under ‘ though I had but a slight aormaintancc, pcr- g‘)1fl’]ll“"‘l (’“l’: 1 knew that ‘ICIIVCNUIUC “W3 l grettcd much to him that. his prospects of , “ Avast, you fools S" exclaimed tlic ' youngster. “ Lift thc lantern, Hiiiitliers; throw the gliin on thccliap’s faccwso, iill ‘ and in two seconds more was tapping at, the idonr of the llluc lhilphiu. , against. , licnry into his clutches. He. has got. a list. :soiiielmw, of most (if the Nullyport IIIPII. and . lhc knows there’s no sailor among them all, lcxccpt perhaps Minus and Hatchet, who 21"“? iaway to Nniilli America, to compare with l my dear llc "y, and tlit y do so \ ‘ant men to ill‘gylll the dreadful battles, ands 7’ llci'c 1c broke, down altogether. “ lliii. v. but can I do tr;a~:::is‘ in this in: tcr ‘5” asked I, in «,1 'eat. perplrwily, for Mary kept sobbing out incoherent ilS~l‘l‘llHIlHlllLt’ , g “ I alone WI alone, could save them both, if I plcasod.” l “ Of course I will do all I can,” said I, as ‘ I paced the room ; “ but I own I can see no way out of this distressing affair. I fear it. would be of little use to speak to the. officer ; ho is a severe man, and not very scrupulous, . licui'il inside; a light appeared at a lattice. ‘ovcilie ill. and the window was cautiously 'fl'l‘dlt‘ll, “lint a voice said : “ V‘IIHJAS there? or report does him great injustice. If I were to go to the place, and give warning to the men concealed” “ Ali 3 no, sir : it’s to late for that,” said the girl, shaking her head. “ llcfor‘c I heard of what was to be done, which came through a neighbour‘s child overbearing the. talk of the men of-war“s mun, every way was beset and guarded. I dared not go there. I don‘t even think the poor lads know their danger, and, dear sir, they don t know they are sold.H “ Sold l” I exclaimed. “ Yes, sir,” answered Mary. “ The child I spoke of board the tender's crew boasting among tlienisclves how they had trapped the “'iLl‘IUbC of the merchant seamen at but, and how the landlady of the lllue llolpliin -- «to think any one should be so base- ~had betrayed the poor men that were hiding, to get fifteen guincas from the lieutenant.” This treachery did not much surprise me, for I knew that the crinips, at whose houses sailors were hidden until they could safely go on board their ships, not unfreijucn..y gave secret information to the pic. gang, when bribcd sufficiently. However, I again declared my readiness to do all in my power while avowing tliatl could suggest no re- source in the dilemma. Mary, however, was prepared with a scheme, which at first seemed crude and rash to me, but which I willineg agreed to essay, in default of any other plan. ‘ “Thank you, sir, a thousand, thousand times, whether you succeed or not in saving my poor H criry. I will pray to (.‘od for you to my dying day, dear Mr. Iiawlty.” So saying, Mary \the dried her eyes,, “ipcd away the glisteningr stains of tcar-, drops from her face, and tripped dcmur j ' from the room and down the passage, “is”. ing Mrs. Simmons a good-night; as she Went by, in a quiet, cheerful tone, as if her heart i were not full to burstng of an agony of hope and fear. She was gone, and I had my work to do. I felt rather nervous about it, it was so foreign to my usual mode of life : it was an errand of mercy, no doubt, but it hardly seemed of a clerical nature. I was putting a“ ay my unfinished Sermon, and had my hat on, and my greatcoat, ready to sally forth, when Mrs. Simmons came, true to the usual hour, jingling with the teatray. “ Lawks, Mr. Hawley, sir, I’d no idea you \'1LS agoing out any more," said my landlady, with just a shade of tartncss in; her tone; “and without your tea, too; what a pity you let me toast the cruiirpets.” Bachelors of a mild disposi ion are. not uncommonly a little henpeckcd by their landladics, housekeeper, or indcxl any mid- dlcsaged female. with whom they have any- thiné,r to do, and I was a very punctual man in general, and given to early hours. So I daresay I winced somewhat at Mrs. Silli‘ mons’ remark ; but bricfly excusing my ap. parent capriccs on the ground of a visit to a i parishoncr who was in some danger, I hur» ricd out. It was a dark night in foggy December, not very cold, but damp and raw. The. streets of Sallyport, unclean and ill paved, l presented a gloomy appearance as I gropcd my way along them by such feeble light as I the wretched oilvlamps, sparsely hung in the main thoroughfares, afforded. I knew the llluc Dolphin, a house of resort for mer- chant scamcn, in rather an out-oftlie way nook, but I had never visited the neiglibour- hood save in broad daylight ; and it cost me some trouble to find it on the night in quesv tiou. After twice losing my way among narrow alleys, paved with Sharp pelil>lcs,i and where the crazy wooden dwellings, ‘alked and pitched like so many fishing- smncks, were, tapestricd with nuts and per- fumed with herrings, I at last found myself within sight of the creaking signlmard, on whose ground of faded pink the Illue l)ol~ , phin displayed his cerulean scales, and ; courted custom. l As I approached, two men, wrapped in those rouin blue. coats which sailors call an archway on the right ; while two more, who might have been twin-brothers to the 1 first couple, emerged from a blind alley on the most part. strong, able-bodied sailorsir with energy, but still in a cautious tone. “ You ought to know my voice. I am Mr. llawlcy, the. vicar, and I will and must be let in. ” A good deal of consultation took place, in alternate whispers and growls, between Mrs. , Smart and some one whom I guessed to be her husband, the. landlord; and their the light was withdrawn, and the treacherous landlady came down to admit inc, fawning and apologiziné,r IL r the delay in a manner ' that sickened inc, cognizant as .l was of her havinL’ sold the liberties of her guests for a - hrihc. Iwas at once ushered into a long low room, opening on the stable-yard, where the ‘ concealed sailors were assembled. Through a cloud of tobhaco sniokcr~the room it elf being dimly lighted by a sea-coal fire and a couple of iron lamps fed with course whale.» , oilisI could make out that about thirty men were present. These were for some mere lads, others with grizzled hair and weather-beaten fa :cs; but the nautical garb and bearing of all was plain enough. They were gathered in knots of four or five, conversing, drinking their grog from tumblers and panninkins, or moodin pull- ing,r at their clay-pipes My appearance at. first. created some stir, but several of the. men knew me, and told the others they need not fcar~“ it was only Mr. llawley. the good parson of Sallyport." l’oorfcllows l as they respectfully made way for me to pass them, I loathed the. treachery which had betray el them to the kidnappers. and I would have warned them to flee, had flight been possible. : but I well knew that every i avenue was guarded, and that although the merchant sailors were well provided with hludgcons and knobbcd sticks, they had little chance against the trained attack of the pressgang. I therefore turned to the corner of the room, where a linerlooking young sailor, taller by the head than any there, and with a very pleasing expression in his handsome. honest face: sat alone, lost in melancholy thoughts. I approached. “ Henry Mills,” said I, in a subdued tone, “I wish to speak with you, apart from the rest. You may remember me ~Mr. Ilawley, tho vicar of Sallyport. I was asked to come by some one who takes an interest in you.” “ By Mary, sir, was it? ’ asked the young man, springing up. “ Ilavc you a message for me, sir, from the dear gir ‘5" “ Hush 1” said I, coming; nearer. “hush ! I cannot tell you what I have to tell, until you have have promised to obey my instruc tions in all this business. I cannot save you, unless you will do sowunlcss you will pr0~ misc not to be. rash. And it was to ask that I would rcnder you a service that your sweet- heart, Mary lVadc, came to me this night." “Bless her kind little. heart!” said Mills warnin ; “ but, indeed, sir, tlicre’sno special both loud and deep, of the crestfallcn Licuu tenant Barnes. But the laugh was against him, and lie \v s glad to go to sea in the (/iYI...~,m'/'bct'ire nightfall on the following day. Half a year later, I had the pleasure. of uniting,r in holy matrimony the hands of Henry Mills, I/iml ofli ‘1” the (fl/m ln» diariian, and pretty Mary \Vade. ,. . .. .4, , . I FAR“ “WILLS AX" TYPHOID. A l’l'uilr’ul and Often unsuspected Smurf-cot. Distrust. Of late years, since the country has be-- come more settled, the. stock incrcasul, the farm houses more people and coincpieutly ' an increase of kitchen slops, closet pit cons tents and manure heaps around the old farm, we frequently hear of diacascs which our fathers knew nothing about. \Vhy is this? Let us try to explain. The water in the well, may be, as clear as crystal, cool and delicious . But do you know hov.‘ larvc asur'faee that. well will drain? It differs wording to the soil but in ordinary loam, with a clay bot. tom, it will drum a circle, the diameter of which is about fulll‘ times its depth. If the well is ‘25 feet. deep it will drain a. space fifty feet from it in every direction. In lighter soils this circle Will be greatly extended. In t.ch in sonic mils a well of 23 feet will. drain a. circle tillll feet in diameter. Herr orally speaking, it is safe to calculate in Io~ eating)' a place for n nell that a distance of 200 feetfroin the closet and stable is not too much. and 1|\;V(‘I' place the well in a ho]: low even at that distance. Many suppose that the soil makes {I good: , filter, and that nothing injurious to health can remain in the tracer that has filtered through it. A (:iriiA'rei; tumor; ixixriivr iii: MADE. While the earth Will remove the coarser im- purities it does not icinove or destroy the principal thing to be avoided, namely, the germs. These will go wherever the water goes. It is therefore unwise to place was pools within less than lfill or 21K) feet of the well. lut there is no ncccssity for cesspools. The dry earth closet is by far the better way to deal with excreta. IL is easily con~ str'uctcd, and so far as health is concerned, may be placed within a few feet of the dwelling house with impunity. The dry earth Lflt t is one of the. simplest: things imaginable, and may be made by any one who knows how to niakca box. A two bushel box or an old butter tub or even a pail put under the, closet scat forms the re- ceptacle. In the closet is another box fo.y holding ashes or dry earth “llll an old fire» shovel in it. Insist on a couple of shovels full of ashes being thrown into the. box under the, cat by c\ ci'yonc before they leave: the mosct. \thn the receptacle is full it. may be emptied in any convenient place, (longer : we’re safolici'c, and the ('7‘rIx/nr'x crew can’t find us : and to~morrrw " ~~~~~ “ ’l'oanorrow will he too late,” whispered I. “I cannot explain matters here. A hasty word would ruin all. Let us have a few minutes alk in some quieter room than this. ” “ Well, sir, if you wish it, the tap’s emp» tv, and we can talk there all by ourselves. 'l‘hcrc‘s a lantern in the passage, and I can unliook it as we go by.” The. conversation lasted about tenminutcs, for every moment was m‘ccious. At the end of that tine young Mills. his oilskin- covered but SIOllI‘Il(‘(I over his face, and the collar of his inonkc ' 'ackct turricd up so as almost to conceal his mouth and chin, re- turned to the long, low room, and sat down in the same secluded corner, apparently lost in thought. , And at almost the same. moment the. Rev. l Joseph Hawlcy. incumbent of the par i of Sallyport, quitth the puliliohousc. ac- knowledging, in the curtest and most lacon- ic fashion, the profuse civilitics and verbose good-wishes of the landlady of tlic Illuc ‘ Dolphin. ‘ Tlic riiCii-of-i.\‘ar"smen were hanging about the. archway and the blind alley thick as bees, and hummingr forth a note of prepara- tion ; but as the gleam of their lantern fell on the long greatcoat. the. white. IlCCkaIOtIl, on the left. I heard their cutlasses cliuk as they moved, and I saw the hr st~pockct of the man, who cauglitine rudely by the wr The prc .‘gang ! " “\Vhat cliccr, brother I" growled my. cu )tor lioldiii r inc fast. “ Whither so i I y 5», fast, at this time 0’ night ?” “ What sort of fish have you netted, lliil'?” said another deep voice. “ Is be worth picking: up to nibble his majcs .y’s biscuit, ch?" “ He's only a land»lubbcr: don't. ye. twiz, . his share. going logs ?” gruriiblcd the i'c- l doubt llill, v. liosc grip was li‘vc thcpi‘essurcl of a vice. “ Still he might do for a waistci', l if not for (MP. of the nth guard Y" Inou rccmcrcd from the first shock of, surprise, I proclaimed my naiiieand sacred calling, demanded my instant release, and warned them that they would be punished if they molested a clergyman. Tlic incn grumbled betwccn their teeth some allusions to “ gammon,” and “ a. cock that wouldn't fight, when, luckily for me, a little sunburned imp of a rnidsiiipinan: came on the scene, folloqu by three, sca- mcn, one of whom had a lantern. The. nio- incnt I saw the light glinting on the boy's at hand. I rcncwcd my appeal. .lcll'n ys, you thundcrhead son of a sea-cook, Ict lIlI' gentleman go.----l beg your pardon, sir, for tlicsc fellows’ blunder, but; generally, in thc (lurk, nll's fish that comes to our not. llopc they haven’t hurt you?” I hastily assured the little oflicer that I I was none the Worm: for the, rough handling of his followers, took my departure. at once, No notice was taken of the knocking. un- til I ventured to rattle the latch up and down, and to rap smartly with my foot. tlu panels. Then, indeed, there no; ‘I, lii'OH t stamping,r and shutlling to but You will come in, for were all just gone to Ill'll ” umbrella, and beaver hat of their late. tap pass. ‘ffitiirl-llllflil, your rtvci'enccl l’leusniit dreams, o.d boy I" said the. young iiiidsliip- man, vitli a giggle at his own wit. and the seamen cave a smothered laugh, which 3 Lscd as on lill]lUI'tltlllwlOOIilll}: personage in a. cloak, n illi cockcddiat and clinkingsword, , canicup- -l.icutcnant Ilariies himself. llut. even the lieutenant had no power to stayr f'. ’a ininistcrof religion, and Mr. llawlcv went ‘ on his way umnolested. The. procu dings of the vicar of Fallyport that night were \ery ; sir .l:i.r ; he did not go home to his lodgings, ‘ his ten and unipots. but him; about the. dark streets till the hour of ten, when the royal mail, with horn and clash of hoofs and wheels, i'cdcoutcd guard and lilufl'couclr man, came dashing throuin Sallyport : and then who should appear at the coach-door, just before. it drove off from the (dime. but the Rev. .loscph llawley. lIc modestly announced that he was gor in}?r to London. An :in do place was vacant. ; be occupied it. “No luggage, sir I All right, 'l'hoinas." llp jumped the rcdâ€"j coated guard, crack went the. whip, twang went the. horn, and off rolled the coach to- wards London. The pro. ang examined ‘ the royal until two miles out of Sallypoi-t, but found no runaway seamen. What to thorn, was the name. of the. “Luv. .loscph, llawlcy in the waybill, or the presence of the Rev. Joseph llawley in the interior of the vcliiclcl At exactly ten minutes to ten 1 the iiicn-of-war‘s men and marines. with clubs. enthuses, and crowbars, broke into the lllue Dolphin public-house, and cap» tured every man there. This was not. cf» fectcd without a dreadful fight. lioncs were broken, many wounds and bruises exchange ed, and more than one pressed man was tak en scusclecs on board the (Il‘ll,8}i‘(.l'. l llut Henry Mills made, no res « ancc; hcl was taken as easily as a lamb i ecurcd by the. butcher, and his captors were half dis- appointed that So gallant and powerfully built a young man should have shown the i white. feather. However, when Lieutenant Ilarncs, at Ilitlfrpilfil. clevcn o’clock, revicwcd his pi'i- ( .,. Your lli‘niiy l) illitll l. “ llz. :-o kind as to admit inc at once. must .1 peak to Lew 7" " .\l n I" exclaimed tho voice. from the‘ lllljrll' \vmdow. “ You‘re. titlkirn,r of whati you don’t. undemfmnl. 'l‘hcre’s no men here but my husband and the lame hustler.” “ I must see the persons 1 seek,” I replied n lwl at nine, o'clock, Mrs. Hrnartfl lieu-,3 Iiivurx hours must have. been} l‘ll, lsliould my,” answered 1 : some, of the men who urcl sorrow. on the deck of the Gray/M, by the i light of a ship‘s lantern, he found out with , < isiiiav that tlic prisoner in the pea-jacket, and mod hat was not Ilcnry Mills atoll, l but the Rev. .loscpli Ilawlcy, M. I\., vicar of Sally port ; and he made the further dis» 1 covci'y, that Henry Mills, having changed, clothes with his friend, the. clergyman in question, was ulrtady far beyond danger, speeding as fast towards London as four ac- tive horses could conch him. I pass over the oaths and lamentations, l tivc, they opened their ranks and let him " " ‘ mains for NICK to the quality of the water. there being no moie. unplcasant odor from '. it then from so much carih. In this manner no danger can arise of contamination of the \wllwvatcr and none. of the air, provided the ashes or air are. freely applied. lly its adoption, which every one. who has given this subject consideration will urge, one of the. fruitul sonrccs of sickness about a. farm will be destroyed. Cases of illness, very often terminating,r fatally, could be enuniciatcd, which arose from wellvcon~ taminzttioti. It is unnecessary to more than state the fact in a newspaper article. The, following diagram, iowc\cr, villas. sist. in cxplr.i1iirr_..;j the situation and the con dition of scores of wells: in this l’roviiicc, merely reminding our farmer friends, who carefully pack and bank round the top of the well, that they are putting,r in the. spigv 1 got and leaving the bungliolc open. 'I‘lll’. l'tll.l.(l\\'1X(l (ll‘T WILL ASSIST in understanding what has been said :fi co‘: AM LU Ail FLA Y MTIIATA. ‘{ c »,,. (j, closet : table : \‘VI, well. 'l'hcdottcd diagonal lines from (‘ and .‘l indicatctlic line ofdraiiizigc. The. clay stops the descent. of soakayc which runs along; its surface until it reaches the veil, int) which it drains. How are you to tell if the. rater in tho wellispurc, that h lit Zill' use? You can do it with a tolcrablc degree of certainty if you follow these dii'cctioiis: (llcan out a liulfpint bottle with boiling: Water, fill it with water freshly drawn from tbcwcll. (Ioik tight, and take. it into town to the drug store. (lot the draggist togivc you 1‘2 grains of caustic potash, and 3 of perman- ganafc of potash in an ounce. of distilled water. .l’our out of the water a tumblcrful and add one, drop of the solution the. drug gist made for you ; lit won’t cost. you ten cents.) If the color Vlhicli is purple, disap- pears at once, a ld another, and continue. adding drop by drop, intil the color re- lialf an hour or more. The amount of the purple solution necessary to secure a permanent color, is r. very fair in If the color iiiipar-tcd by one or two drops disapv pears at once, the water should be rejected ‘ as dangerous; if, after addiugadozcn drops, the color disappears, itis positive evidence that the rater is bad. Impurities destroy the. color ; pure, water does not. It is no :lrguiiicnt to say our water is pure. because it is cold and clear, and no one has been made violently ill by drinking it. It is not irritant poisons we are discussing, but; the slow, insidious, invisible, infinitely more destructive ones, and the loss of time. in» jury to health and life frorii thc latter, are a hundred, ycs, a thousand fold more. than the former. If you cannot bring any case to mind, they are. there. all tlicsarnc, though unrecognized. .. _ “.mw..__w. . Quitting advertising in dull times is like tearing- outa dam because the water is low. They tell a story of a fire in Chicago that has a certain grim humor to it. The fire broke. out in :1 medical college. and a fire» man, gropiinY in the building, saw what IlC- took to be some one insensiblc from inhaling smoke, So be rushed to the prostrate form and conveyed itfo the street at the risk of his own life, only to find, when he got there, that he had rescued a partly dissected sub- ject.