Editor's Drawer. HE reception given to Bishop Potter at | dulged in excessive drink, and, in consequence, vember, in commemoration of the twenty-fifth year of his episcopate, called together an audience that filled all the seats and standingroom of the stage and auditorium. Crowds turned away who desired to get in, but "could not for the press." Apropos of this, a reverend gentleman near one of the doors, who was struggling for entrance, said, "The only propriety I can see in the selection of a theatre for such a reception consists in the fact that in the early ages of the Church the bishops were always martyred there." ANOTHER reverend gentleman of this city, known alike for his wit and eloquence, alluding casually to the fact that a brother of Bishop Potter had been Bishop of Pennsylvania, and that the bright and genial rector of Grace Church, Dr. Henry C. Potter, had just narrowly escaped election to the see of New Jersey, remarked, "It would seem that the American | following: episcopate is really the Potters' Field." "GRIM-VISAGED war hath smoothed his wrinkled front" in all campaigns, in every clime, by incidents fairly stuffed with humor. The last contribution comes from Zululand. Sir Evelyn Wood, it seems, did not get on very well with his chaplain, and on one occasion got into a little conversation with him in which he did not come off first best. "When are you going to leave us, Mr. asked the general. "Oh, about the same time that you do yourself, I suppose," meekly answered the parson. "Oh, I don't know so much about that," said Sir Evelyn," for I want your tent, and I can't spare your rations much longer." "Ah! but I want my tent myself, general, though I don't want spare rations." "Yes, but you know mine is the 'flying colnmn,' and I can't be expected to fly with a lot of parsons hanging on to my coat tails." “Well, general, all I can say is that if you call seven miles and a half a day flying, I think I shall be able to keep up with you." "That's all very well," said the general, a little nettled, "but I hear now that there's a Roman Catholic chaplain about to join us, and if he does, I declare I'll put him in your tent." "If you do, I dare say I shall have sufficient strength to put him out again," meekly observed the parson, and so the interview ended. Two days later the same paper contained the CARD OF THANKS. ALSO, AN ADDRESS TO THE PUBLIC. TITUSVILLE, November 26. To the Editor of the Herald: Permit me through the columns of your paper to express my sincere thanks to those ladies and gentlemen who, by their unremitting attention and many acts of kindness toward my wife and myself during the former's recent illness, have placed me under great obligations to them. I would also take this opportunity to state to the ladies of Titusville and vicinity that I will continue in the millinery business, and shall endeavor to keep a much more complete assortment of goods than even heretofore. I propose to offer every novelty and variety that the seasons can produce, at the lowest market prices. THIS, from Utica, New York, is just a trifle out of the ordinary run of the doleful: DIED-At Paris Hill, December 4, 1879, Katey Tormey, daughter of Patrick Tormey, in the 26th year of her age. We laid Katie to rest in her rose-wood case, That was frosted with silver and lined with lace; A pillow of satin, with tassels of silk, And silk fringes whiter than milk; Folds of linen like snow-drifts Over the bosom the breath mightn't lift; White hands crossed that easy to show, Hiding the heart that was broken below. IN a certain college under Presbyterian auspices, not a hundred miles from New York, it is a rule that the students shall attend church at least once each Sunday, either in the college chapel, or some church in town which they shall designate, and for non-attendance satisfactory reasons must be given. Of course on Monday mornings, when these reasons are called for, much ingenuity and some fun are brought out. In one of these interviews Prof. L- asked a student: "Mr. C, where did you attend church yesterday?" Mr. C replied, "The First Church, Sir." The professor, looking a little surprised, said, bric-a-brac are in the way; the polished floor is cold; and these horrid chairs are uncomfortable." ARABELLA. "Uncomfortable! Why, George, you shouldn't think of that. You must remember these furnishings are antique, artistic, and FASHIONABLE." Lord Selborne, the gift of music. He is president of the Bach Club, which comprises the selectest amateurs of London. He is also full of humor, and considerate, and even playful, to embarrassed witnesses. A young barrister had called a witness's attention to two contra bright, making the following statement among others of high historical interest: "The Dutchmen, when they landed in New York, did not, like those who landed on Plymouth Rock, wrest the soil from the hands of its owners. They paid twenty-four dollars for Manhattan Island, like honest men, and then played pitch-dictions in his testimony, one of which his own penny on the Battery with the Indians, and won it back. These principles have been handed down to us." THE late Senator Chandler had no special regard for the "newspaper man" who happened to ruffle his temper, and he had a way of expressing himself that was more nervous than elegant. One of these gentlemen had made himself so obnoxious to the Senator that he deemed it a duty to do something gory to him, and with that intent started for "Newspaper Row." Entering the office of one of the New York correspondents, he said: "Where is? Is he around here?" "No, Sir; his place is down town." "Well, when you see him you may tell him I am looking for him; and when I find him I'm going to run this umbrella into him, and open it." And he stalked out in hot pursuit. Ir was the Rev. Mr. Ten Broeck who, when elected by the laity and rejected by the clergy, was asked: If a man is "Right Reverend" who is wholly elected bishop, what is a man who is only half elected? "The Left Reverend," was his witty reply. LORD COLERIDGE, besides his great legal acquirements and judicial distinction, has, like counsel showed was no contradiction at all. His lordship gave the young barrister a way of retreat out of his confusion by saying, "Never mind, Mr. -; one of your barrels has missed fire, but the other has taken effect." THE Rev. Mr. I- is a very small man. He has a big heart and a large soul, but his body is diminutive. The Rev. Dr. S- was opposing division of dioceses, on the ground that it would "necessitate taking very small men for the episcopate." "Just the reason I am in favor of it," said I-, dryly. All who know him will appreciate the joke. AN admirer of the beautiful, i. c., a gentleman who has read the Drawer for twenty years, and is still living, in Vermont, sends us this: Democrats are the exception instead of the rule in Vermont, and it is unusual to see more than two or three gathered together. Widow has buried three husbands, all prominent Democrats. At the funeral of the last, many of the "unterrified" were in attendance, and as they were leaving the house a gentleman remarked, in an under-tone, "This looks like a Democratic State Convention." The widow is soon to marry a fourth husband, who is also a noted Democrat, and as the matter was being discussed recently, Jim who is one of the "true blues," said: "Boys, this thing is getting serious: at this rate the widow will in a few years ruin the Democratic party of Rutland County." THE late Bishop Whittingham was not destitute of true humor. He once "brought down the house" at Convention by saying that he was continually in receipt of applications from Maryland vestries for clergy with very small families. "If this goes on," said he, "I shall expect before many years that no one may obtain a cure in my diocese unless he be a clergyman with a very small appetite." He used to cheer up his half-frightened candidates on examination by telling them of the deacon who read the closing verse of a certain chapter of the Acts: "And he spake unto them in the Hebrew tongue, saying, 'Here endeth the second lesson.'" "Yes, yes,' replied that uncle; and the ship could float twenty-four hours and not hit a beau.'" A NEW ENGLAND contributor sends the following epitaphs taken from grave-stones in a cemetery in the northeastern part of Connecticut: Shed not the tear for Simon Ruggle, For life to him was a constant struggle; He preferred the tomb and death's dark gate To managing mortgaged real estate. Here lies the body of little Jane, Who ran off slyly and played in the rain, Got cold, had the measles, they struck inside, And in less than four short days she died. With tears her parents sprinkled her grave; Fresh water killed her, salt tears won't save; But cheer up, parents, she's gone before Where chicken-pox and measles attack us no more, Where the sun shines ever on streets of gold, And there's no possible chance of taking cold. PARSON B lived a few miles "out" on the road running from a certain elm-bowered city of Maine to a small manufacturing village just beyond. The parson was known as the embodiment of oddities and quiddities, and also as a very convenient resort when one of the city pulpits needed a "short-notice" supply, and the village of Sacarappa had a repu Not quite satisfied, he continued: "Roman tation, equally well established, for manners Catholic praste?" "No, Sir," said Dean M. "Faith, Sur, and ye almost decaved me, ye look so like wan." and morality for which ungodliness was a gentle term. One Sunday morning the parson was suddenly summoned to fill the "crack" pulpit of the city, its own divine being unexpectedly detained away from home. Hastily snatching a sermon from the pile, he put it in his pocket, mounted his high-hipped nag, and was off. It was a bright October morning, and the keen air had put life into the parson's veins and oratory into his soul. Warming at every sentence of his discourse, he poured forth a rising flood of rebuke, exposure, warning, and condemnation such as might well stir the souls of any company of sinners to their depths. But as the climax was reached and the conclusion drew near, the parson began to recollect himself. This was no company of sinners. These were the "first circles" of P-, aristocrats in velvet and silk; their church had the tallest steeple and the handsomest front in town, and their minister commanded a higher salary than any other church in Maine could raise. The parson felt a blush stealing to his cheek. He hurried through his sermon, closed it, and reached uncomfortably for the hymn-book; then, with a quick little movement, he wheeled about, and cocking his wizened face to one side, piped out, in his queer, high-pitched voice: "I hope no one in the audience will take offense at any remarks offered in my address this morning. I was sent for in great haste, had no time to make a selection, and the truth is, this sermon never was written to come in here; it was written for Sacarap' folks." M NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. No. CCCLVIII.-MARCH, 1880.-VOL. LX. THE NEW SCHOOL OF ITALIAN PAINTING AND SCULPTURE. ODERN taste ignores almost entirely the old creative, æsthetic, instruct ive, and religious aspects of art, and confines itself to bare naturalism or its counterfeit, genre and still-life being the favorite forms. Even the Renaissant decorative art, so richly imaginative in details and effects, has died out like the others. Thus it happens that our present art, in ideas, limitations of motives, and creative choice, has fallen into a narrow mental rut, despising its old birthright of a suggestive world of its own, and using nature as its servant. Instead of being selfpoised, the law giver and maker in its own kingdom, it looks up to nature as its master, and is vain of its position as a faithful imitator and scholar; or, at the best, a kind of Kindergarten object-teacher, in place of being prophet and ruler in a dominion of its own. The intellectual gulf that separates an Albert Dürer, not to speak of a Buonarotti, from a Meissonier, is an immense one; but it is the measure of the distance the nineteenth century is behind the sixteenth in the higher phases of art. On the other hand, it has done good service in opening men's eyes to the manifold beauties of the natural world, and inspiring them with a wholesome love of it. A few master-hands interpret it in a broad, subjective way, as the material reflection of a divine power, whilst others have enlarged and deepened the scope of human sympathies in depicting the less fortunate sons of toil, and brought them into nearer relationship to the more favored ones of earth. Art that presents humanity in its lowly aspects, helping forward the recognition of the solidarity of human beings as mutually self-helping children of one Father, whose bounties and blessings all equally crave, is a high as well as fine art. If there be less faith in modern than in old art, there is in it Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, by Harper and Brothers, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. VOL. LX.-No. 358.-31 کر |