out-stretched arm to the forecastle scuttle; then passing to leeward, he descended over the barrel of the windlass tread, moved aft under the lee of the galley.

"The moment he passed out of sight the men began to get rid of their astonishment, and to recover their courage. 'Here goes to find out what he's made of, anyhow,' said Jack Rollock, spring ing across the forecastle, and followed by half a dozen others. But although the figure was but a few steps in advance, it vanished suddenly and completely upon reaching the mainmast. 'Did he come this way?' asked Jack, rushing round the mast to windward.

"Didn't see anything of him!' replied the man on the weather side.

"Jack looked round the deck, looked aloft, over the side, and even down the barrel of the pump, but without success.

"Well, strike me wulgar, if this ain't queer,' he exclaimed, scratching his head in perplexity. 'I'm blowed, that's just what I be.'

"What's the matter there, men! asked the mate, coming forward to the break of the poop.

"Matter! Why, there are more hands aboard than signed the articles in Boston! There's a strange man tramping about the decks-that's what's the matter, sir.'

"You've seen it, then?' said the mate, glancing anxiously about the deck, with rather a wild look in his eyes.

"Eh, what?' said Jack, then you have seen it, too?'

"Yes-no. Well, as long as you have seen it, there can be no harm in telling you. Yes, I have seen it-we've known it aft here in the cabin for more than a month, but thought it best not to cause you unnecessary alarm by mentioning it. It's an awful thing, boys, isn't it?' The pallid faces of the men before him was sufficient answer, and he proceeded: I suppose it is some one who has been murdered here aboard here. I've heard of such things, but never believed before. It's killing the captain. Don't you see how thin and pale and nervous he's getting? Nobody knows what I've suffered, waking up nights to find the infernal thing standing over my bunk, staring at me with its cold, dead eyes. But never mind, boys. Keep up a good heart; we'll be in port shortly,' he continued in a more cheerful tone, as he walked away aft.

"You can easily guess the subject of our conversation as we returned to our station in the waist. Every man had some story to relate as having some bearing upon the matter; but we were presently interrupted by an exclamation from one of the men. Turning our eyes toward the forecastle, we saw a human head slowly rising above the combings of the hatch. The face glowed and shone with a pale blue light, while ghastly, flickering flames darted in and out among his matted hair. With its long, bony arm the figure beckoned us forward, and pointed down the companion-way. Three times was this pantomine repeated, when the spectre vanished.

"Of course there was no going into the forecastle to sleep that night. I consider myself about as brave as the majority of men, but I will frankly own that no earthly consideration would have induced

666

"The devil! exclaimed the captain, with a gesture of impatience and vexation.

"Yes, sir-precisely,' said Jack, that's just what I thought it was when I first saw it.'

"The captain made no reply, but walking aft, moodily paced the deck till morning. From that time the spectre was seen every night flitting about in different parts of the ship. No work was attempted beside trimming sail; everything that had to be done was done in couples-two men at the wheel, two on the lookout, two or more everywhere. No man would stay for an instant alone, and altogether we were about as dissatisfied a ship's company as you'd often find.

"Just one week from the first appearance of the thing among the hands forward, we made Java Head, early one bright Sunday morning. By the help of a strong fair wind we made such good headway up the Strait, that shortly after dark the same evening, we came to anchor off Anjier Point.

"No sooner was the anchor in the ground than the captain ordered away the starboard quarter boat, and with the second mate and the boat's crew, started for the shore, to order a lot of fresh provisions, to stand us till we reached Hong Kong. His quitting the ship seemed to be a signal for the most diabolical uproar that was ever heard aboard a vessel-groans, shrieks and screeches resounded from every part of the ship. The figure we had all so of ten seen made its appearance at one minute on the forecastle, and the next at the cabin door, without ever crossing the deck. Some of the men declared they saw hundreds of infernal images running about the rigging, though that must have been fancy, for I could see but one. At length, the deep boom of a large gong from the very bowels of the ship put the finishing stroke to our courage, and with one accord the men rushed to the remaining boat, and lowering it alongside, began hastily pitching their traps aboard. The mate begged us to wait until we reached some other port, or at all events until the captain returned, but we would not listen to him. Hold on, boys!' he cried, as the last one entered the boat and began to bear off. If you are going, you might as well take me along, for I'm blessed if I stop on board alone far all India!'

"He was taken on board, and the boat shoved off amid a howl of unearthly laughter from on board. "Upon reaching the landing, we met the captain just preparing to come off. He did not seem much surprised at our descrtion, but ordered us on board again at once. At this moment, a general exclamation from the crew caused me to turn my eyes toward the ship. A bright light was streaming from her cabin windows; another instant and the flames shot up from her hatchway, euveloping the masts,

sails and rigging in one sheet of fire. In silence we gazed upon her, and I can almost swear I saw the form of the spectre enter a boat on the side of the ship farthest from us, and pull away into darkness. She burned fiercely for about an hour, when, as the poet says:

"She gave a heel to starboard, then to port,

And going down head-foremost, sunk in short.' And that was the last of the Gil Blas."

"Is that all?" asked Jack Brace, as Joe silently filled his pipe and began smoking.

"It's enough, ain't it?"

"Yes-too much; but did you never find out any

thing more about the spook?"

"Never."

"What did people say about it?" "Fudge, mostly."

Jack ruminated several minutes in silence.

"You say the ship was insured, and that she had a tremendous hard name?"

"Well, then," said Joe, "if you must know all about it, people did say it was a pretty smart game to bring a ghost all the way from Boston to put a scare on the whole ship's company; and if the captain and mate never had any practice of the kind before, they certainly did it well for a first attempt. The owners got their insurance, however, and it was the general opinion that they couldn't have got the old boat off their hands in any better way, all things considered. So now you've got the whole of the story, and are at liberty to make the most of it."

THEOBALDI CHAPEL.

Among the new chromos in our selection, there is one in particular which attracts the attention and admiration of all who visit our Picture Gallery. This chromo is entitled "Theobaldi Chapel," and judging from the large sale it is already having, we think it is destined to be the popular picture of the day. The historical French chapel is represented in early winter, when the autumn foliage still clings to the trees, though the ground and the old stone wall are whitened by snow. In the distance the mountains are softly outlined against the bright sunset sky, and off to the right the ethereal blue is partly obscured by a leaden storm-cloud, which seems to be spreading rapidly over the heavens. The rural chapel, with its quaint dome and ancient architecture-the crumbling stone wall and broken-down gate-the gnarled trees standing guard over the quiet scene-all are objects that will interest the lover of legendary romance and French history, as well as delight the eyes of those who are in search of beautiful artistic effects.

The scene here represented is said to be one of the most picturesque in France, and in our chromo it is given true to life. The colors are rich but not glaring; the copy is an exact imitation of the original, and so finely executed that it might easily be mistaken for an oil painting. Theobaldi Chapel " is the uniform size-15x21-and will be sent to any address, postage free, on receipt of fifty cents.

There is a thread in our thoughts as there is a pulse in our hearts; he who can hold the one knows how to think, and he who can move the other knows how to feel.

THE MAIDEN'S ADVERTISEMENTS.

AT EIGHTEEN. A heart to let!

A warm, fresh, cheery, virgin heart,
Untenanted by man as yet,
New and unsoil'd in any part;

Who bids the price to get?
To him who'll pay the easy rent,
Daily and hourly due a wife,
Of honest love, I am content

To give a lease for life.

It has large chambers warm and bright,
Well furnished with affections fine,
And drap'd with hopes that glow with light,
Howe'er the sun may shine
The owner's title's good; no claim

Has yet been raised, and every part
Is hers in her own right and name-
Who'll take this precious heart?

AT TWENTY-EIGHT.
No tenant yet!

To let! A valuable heart!
Who seeks such property to get,
Will nowhere find, in any mart,

A better to be let.

The terms are easy, payments few-
Ah, yes! the heart described above,
Offers inducements to the true

Economists in love!

The property's in good repair,

The furniture has ne'er been used, The drapery's slightly worse for wear, But naught has been abus'd. "Tis cumbered with some trifling debts Of unrequited love, but these Shall all be cancell'd, if it gets A tenant it shall please.

AT THIRTY-EIGHT.

Alas! the truth must now be told;

Decay has prey'd on every part; No pauper now would take this old, Dilapidated heart.

I'll bar the doors, hang all in gloom,

Lay the affections on the shelf, And then into its narrowest room,

At once I'll move myself. There shall I pass each heavy day,

And living for myself-no more— I'll scorn the charities that may

Come knocking at my door. This old estate-this heart-may do

To hide these ruin'd hopes of mineFor others it has comforts few;

So then, take down the sign!

It is probable that a dog saved the lives of a family at Canton, Mass., the other day. They were all insensible from inhaling coal gas, and the father was just able to go out to another room to get some water, when he fainted, but the dog licked his face and aroused him in time to revive the family.

join old and young to follow her into the fieldsinto the meadows of new-mown hay. How refreshing the fragrance, and how health-breathing the perfume, that floats around! Then, after a long walk, we can lie down upon the grass without the fear of catching a cold. We might watch the gambols of children in the hay-fields as they jump over the hillocks, and then playfully smother each other in "the new-mown hay." Back again, we look upon the hedges full of blossoms with the wild rose, the honeysuckle, and the convolvulus. The banks and ditches, too, are all aglow with varied colored wild flowers; and, around, and in the distance, are seen fields of clover, beans, and peas, all in full bloom, and throwing off exquisite fragrance. Anon we walk on again, gazing on fresh beauties as we proceed. Now we come to a straggling village, and peep over the palings of a cottage-garden. There, in all their bright blossoms, are stocks, marigolds, larkspurs, pinks, carnations, iupins, ladies'-slipper, wall-flowers, campanulas (or little bells), nasturtiums, periwinkles, snapdragons, and a hundred other of our well-remembered favorites. Onward we trudge again; and, as we go, we think of Mary

Howitt's beautiful lines to "Summer:"

And where are the flowers that in beauty are glowing, In the gardens and fields of the young merry spring; Like the mountain-side wilds of the yellow broom

blowing,

And the old forest pride, the red waste of the ling? Then the garden, no longer 'tis leafless and chilly,

But warm with the sunshine, and bright with the sheen

How fine the spider's web is spun,
Unnoticed to vulgar eyes;

Its silk thread glittering in the sun,
Art's bungling vanity defies.

Roaming while the dewy fields

'Neath their morning burden lean, While its crops my searches shields, Sweet I scent the blossomed bean. Making oft remarking stops;

Watching tiny nameless things
Climb the grass's spiry tops
Ere they try their gauzy wings.
So emerging into light,

From the ignorant and vain
Fearful genius takes her flight,

Skimming o'er the lonely plain.

But we must leave the poets for awhile, and return to our illustration. We have looked in upon the hay-field, and now we will glance at the sheepshearing. This process may look pretty in a picture, but it is not pleasant to gaze on in reality. It is rather a pitiful sight, and our sympathies are aroused on behalf of the poor sheep as they are ruthlessly seized, dashed into the water, almost drowned in the washing, and amidst convulsive pantings, quickly shorn of their fleecy coats. So we will leave the subject.

The Toilet of Beauty.

Without whose aid no lady can be dressed with propriety and gracefulness.

Otto of Rose, warranted to retain its fragrance in

lily,

Barbaric in pomp as an Ethiop queen.

Oh! the beautiful flowers, all color combining,
The larkspur, the pink, and the sweet mignonette,

And the blue fleur-de-lis, in the warm sunlight shining,

As if grains of gold in its petals were set!

Yes; the summer,-the radiant summer's the fairest, For greenwoods and mountains, for meadows and bowers,

For waters and fruits, and for blossoms the rarest,
And for bright shining butterflies, lovely as flowers.
Equally beautiful and natural is John Clare's de-
scription of a "Summer Morning :"

'Tis sweet to meet the morning breeze,
Or list the giggling of the brook;
Or, stretched beneath the shade of trees,
Peruse and pause on nature's book.
When pature every sweet prepares
To entertain our wished delay-
The images which morning wears,
The wakening charms of early day!
Now let me tread the meadow paths,
Where glittering dew the ground illumes,
As sprinkled o'er the withering swaths
Their moisture shrinks in sweet perfumes.
And hear the beetle sound his horn,
And hear the skylark whistling nigh,
Sprung from his bed of tufted corn,
A hailing minstrel in the sky.

First sunbeam, calling night away

To see how sweet thy summons seems;

Split by the willow's wavy gray,

And sweetly dancing on the streams.

Beautifying Lotions-Tenderness and constancy.
Best Lip-salve-Smile of benevolence.
Elixir to preserve Memory-Gratitude.

Cream of Sweet Almonds-Kindness and good

nature.

Sal Volatile-Wit.

Cold Cream-Prudence.

Pomade Divine-Contentment.

Essence of Jessamine, apt to evaporate, therefore to be kept close-Friendship.

A Lotion to prevent Wrinkles-Cheerfulness.
Best Court or Sticking plaster-Faithfulness.
Simple Anodynes-Patience and industry.
Best Patent Pins-Repartee.

Fine White Paint-Innocence.

Wash-ball for preserving white Hands-Purity. ▸
Dye for Eyebrows-Contemplation.
Best Rouge-Modesty.
Crystal Vase-Truth.

A Mirror-Reflection.

Fine Eye-Water-Sensibility.

Essence of Roses-Poison, to be used with caution-Love.

An excellent Bloom to preserve the Complexion -Early rising.

Drops to remove all Stains-Honor and Rectitude.

Essence of Violet-Humility.

Drops to prevent Ennui-Employment.

The difference.-" Ah, yes," said a cabinet-maker to a crockery dealer, to whom he was introduced, "ah, yes; you sell tea-sets, and I sell settees."

THE ROBBER OF ST. GERVAIS.

DINE

BY HORACE B. STANIFORD.

NE cold, blustering morning, late in the fall, a who walked with a crutch and a short man, staff, was on the road from Lodeve to St. Gervais, in the department of Perault, away in the southern part of France. The traveller was an old man, perhaps five and fifty, with a face very dark from long and constant exposure, and with a stone-gray beard and moustache. An old gray overcoat completely enveloped his person, but it was plainly to be seen that he had only one leg. The road was very muddy, and a cold, drizzling mist was falling, and though it was well into the evening, yet there was light enough to distinguish the way, for away beyond the clouds and the mist, a bright moon was shining, and though even its whereabouts could not be made out, yet it served to make visible what must otherwise have been enveloped in utter darkness.

The old man hobbled on, planting his crutch and staff carefully upon the soft and treacherous ground, and thus he passed but slowly on his way. It was near nine o'clock when he reached the little copse of swamp-wood that lay at the edge of the village of St. Gervais. Here it was somewhat darker, and he made his way more carefully. He had just reached the edge of the copse when his attention was attracted by a noise close by him, and in a moment more a human being stood in the road before him. The new comer was a slight built person, as the old man could distinctly see, and most probably a youth. He had surely come from the wood. "Ha!" uttered the traveller," what now, eh!" 'Your money, or your life!" was the reply, given abruptly, but somewhat tremulously.

66

"You don't mean it ?"

"And be

"I will not."

"But why should I tell you? You have disarmed me, and I am at your mercy. Yet, as God is my judge, had I known you were an old soldier, I would not have stopped you. I would have laid in the woods and starved first. Give me money—a few sous."

"Tell me your name."

The youth hesitated, but finally he replied: "If you are a true soldier I should take your word. My name is Pierre Chollet." "And have you no parents?"

66

Ay."

"Then let us hasten away and find her. I may help her; and, moreover, get lodgings for the night for myself and my crutch. Come, it's cold here. Lead the way."

"You will help my mother if you go?"
"To be sure I will."

"And you won't lisp a word of this ?"
"Not without your consent."
"Then follow me."

Thus speaking the youth turned and started on. "Are you acquainted with the road?" the old man asked.

"Every inch of it," was the reply.

"Then go ahead and pick out the best path, and I can get along faster."

At the end of about twenty minutes they topped a little hill, and the lights could be seen in the village of St. Gervais; but before they reached the village the guide turned off to the right into a narrow lane, and finally came to a small hut which the youth said was his home. He opened the door and went in, and the old man followed him. There was only one room and that had a floor of clay. In the fireplace burned a few fagots, while close by were heaped up a lot more-boughs, twigs, and stuff such as might be dragged out of the swamp close by. In an old arm-chair sat an elderly female with her hands folded in her lap, and close by her was a cat.