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them appraised. I called upon a professor and stated my business, whereupon he invited me to an inner apartment and bade me be seated, remarking, as he prepared for the examination, that we should soon understand each other. I smiled benignly and awaited operations. He passed both hands through my hair in a manner that would have done iredit to a first-class barber, then went over and locked the eafe and put the key in his pocket. He continued his survey, explaining as he went along. "You'll marry early and often. Will experience the parental feeling with great in tensity, and exhibit it by feeling around your children with a stick, when occasion requires. Are warm, cordial, and ardent in friendship; will cheerfully borrow all the money your friends will lend. Inhabitaliveness, large; are liable to home-sickness when away from home and dead broke. Continuity, moderate; love variety and change, especially the kind known as ' small change.' Have a good share of energy, yet no more than is necessary to grapple with an eating-house steak. Vitativeness, very large; will struggle resoJutely through sickness, and will not give up to die while the ' lamp of life holds out to burn.' Combativeness is large, though it doesn't appear to be the kind that hurts anybody. Destructiveness is a strong point, experience powerful indignation, and with large combativeness, would make a dangerous onslaught on hash. Alimcntiveness is a remarkable development; you'd ruin the prospects of a cheap boarding-house. Have a natural antipathy to water, but enjoy corn in the juice. Very large acquisitiveness: are eager to be rich, and your creditors hope for the best. Secretiveness (s good; you'll keep a secret, or anything else you lay your hands on. Cautiousness is not your trump card. Approbativeness and self-esteem are curiosities; would advise you to paint them with iodine. Firmness, above the average; hold on long and hard, especially at meal time. Have conscientiousness full; feel sorry when you do wrong, and always repent it, and you are kept pretty busy repenting. Hope, very large; have 'great expectations,'which arc good things to have in the absence of anything more tangible. You have the kind of veneration that's common at this day— devout on the Sabbath, but fly the track through the week. There's a place for benevolence, but it doesn't appear to be built up. Have considerable mechanical skill, with large imitation and form, and are adapted for drawing, especially a salary, though you are not bad on a cork. Mirthfulness, very large; wouM make a cheerful funeral. Have an insatiate desire to see and know all about things, and peculiar methods of finding them out. Large order; order freely on credit. Possess good calculating powers; with practice, can calculate the number of beers for a dollar, and the amount of gratuitous 'Swcitzer' that should accompany each. Eventuality, very large; have a retentive memory of facts and incidents, particularly of the fact that anybody owes you anything. If you ever undertake to learn music, there's a piece of woods up in the country, seven miles from any house, where you ought to go." Now I submit this is not a fair deal.

BROTHERHOOD—J. G. Holland.
Extract From "the Mistrkss Of The Manse."

"My rhilip, bred hi Northern climes.
Preached the great Word I strive to aing;
And in the grand and golden times—
Aflame with love—he went to bring
Hia Mildred—subject of my rhymes—.

From her far bome on Southern plains;
And what they shared of bale and bliss,
And what their losses, what their gains,
The loving eye that readeth this
May gather, if it take the pains."

From The Phkltjdk.

The day of Gettysburg had set;

The smoke had drifted from the scene,

And burnished sword and bayonet

Lay rusting where, but yestere'en,

They dropped with life-blood red and wet!

The swift invader had retraced

His march, and left his fallen braves,

Covered at night in voiceless haste,

To sleep in memorable graves,

But knew that all his loss was waste.

The nation's legions, stretching wide,
Too sore to chase, too weak to cheer,

Gave sepulture to those who died,
And saw their foemen disappear
Without the loss of power or pride.

And then, swift-sweeping like a gale, .
Through all the land, from end to end,
Grief poured its wild, untempered wail,
And father, mother, wife, and friend
Forgot their country in their bale.

And Philip, with his fatal wound,
Was borne beyond the battle's blaze,
Across the torn and quaking ground,—
His ear too dull to heed the praise,
That spoke him hero, robed and crowned.

They bent above his blackened face,

And questioned of bis last desire;

And with his old, familiar grace,

And smiling mouth, and eye of fire,

He answered them: "My wife's embrace!"

They wiped his forehead of its stain,

They bore him tenderly away,

Through teeming mart and wide champaign,

Till on a twilight, cool and gray,

And wet with weeping of the rain,

They gave him to a silent crowd
That waited at the river's marge,
Of men with age and sorrow bowed,
Who raised and bore their precious charge,
Through groups that watched and wailed aloud
# * * » *

The hounds of power wore at her gate;
And at their heels, a yelping pack
Of graceless mongrels stood in wait,
To mark the issue of attack,
With lips that slavered with their hate.

With window raised and portal barred,
The mistress scanned the darkening space,
And with a visage hot and hard—
At bay before the cruel chase—
She held them in her fierce regard.

"What would ye—spies and hirelings—what?"
She asked with accent, stern and brave;
"Why come ye to this sacred spot,
Led by the counsel of a knave,
And flanked by slanderer and sot?

"You have my husband: has he earned
No meed of courtesy for me?
Is this the recompense returned,
That she he loved the best should be
Suspected, persecuted, spurned?

"My home is wrecked: what would ye more?
My life is ruined—what new boon?
My children's hearts are sad and sore
With weeping for the wounds that soon
Will plead for healing at my door 1

"I hold your prisoner—stand assured:
Safe from his foes: aye, safe from you !—
Safe in a sister's love immured,
And by a warden kept as true
As e'er the test of faith endured.

"Why, men, he was my brother born I
My hero all my youthful years!
My counsellor, to guide and warn!
My shield alike from foes and fears!
And when he came to me, forlorn,

"What could I do but hail him guest,
And bind his cruel wounds with balm,
And give him on his sister's breast
That which he asked, the humble aim
Of a safe pillow where to rest?

".Come, then, and dare the wrath of fate!

Come, if you must, or if you will!

But know that I am desperate;

And shafts that wound, and wounds that kill

Your deed of dastardy await!"

A murmur swept through nil the mob;

The base informer slunk afar;

And lusty cheer and stifled sob

Rose to her at the window-bar,

While those whose hands were come to rob

Her dwelling of its treasure, cursed;
For round their heads the menace flew
That he who dared adventure first,
Or first an arm of murder drew,
Should taste of vengeance at its worst.
« • * * *

A heavy tramp, a murmuring sound,
Low mmgling with the murmuring rain,—
Heard in the wind and in the ground,—

Come up the street—a tide of pain,
In which the angry din was drowned.

The leaders of the tumult fled;
The door flew open with a crash:
And down the street wild Mildred sped,
Piercing the darkness like a flash,
And walked beside her husband's bed.

Slowly the solemn train advanced;
The crowd fell back with parted ranks;
And like a giant, half entranced,
Sailing between strange, spectral banks,
From side to side the soldier glanced.

The sobbing rain, the evening dim,
The dusky forms that pushed and peered,
The swaymg couch, the aching limb,
The lights and shadows, sharp and weird,
Were but a troubled dream to him.

He knew his love—all else unknown,
Or seen through reason's sad eclipse—
And with her hand within his own,
Or fondly pressed upon his lips,
He clung to it, as if alone

It had the power to stay his feet

Still longer on the verge of life;

And thus they vanished from the street—

The shepherd-warrior and his wife—

Within the manse's closed retreat.

* * • * *

Embraced by home, his soul grew light;

And though*he moaned: "My head! my head!"

His life turned back its outward flight,

Like his, who, from the prophet's bed,

Startled the wondering Shunammite.

He greeted all with tender speech;
He told his children he should die;
He gave his fond farewell to each,
With messages, and fond good-by
To all he loved beyond his reach.

And then he spoke her brother's name:
"Tell him," he said, " that, in my death,
I cherished his untarnished fame,
And to my life's expiring breath,
Held his brave spirit free from blame.

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