rests. An earnest desire on the part of those who are now luke-warm, to help and to be helped, would show them that in no organization could more breadth be found, and that nowhere else is the complete equality of woman recognized, both in the ministerial and official capacity. The exhortation of Paul to the Ephesians, may be worth our consideration at this time: "I therefore} beseech you that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith you are called. "With all lowliness and meekness, with long suffering, forbearing one another in love; endeavoring to keep the unity of 'the spirit in the bond of peace. DEVASTATION BY WATER.-We now are assured that the terrific floods in the valley of the Ohio have reached their highest point, and are declining, yet there is no assurance that a further rise and still greater destruction of life and property may not be imminent. We learn that for thirty miles, beginning with the upper suburbs of Cincinnati and ending with Lawrenceburg, Ind., the damage, destruction, and distress are without parallel in our country's annals, and it has been conjectured that the number of persons either homeless or imprisoned by the floods in the Ohio valley cannot be less than 50,000. Many towns are entirely under water. The drowning out of countless manufacturing industries has thrown great numbers out of employment, and this will occasion great distress among families which get their maintenance from forge or factory. As the accumulated waters are discharged into the Mississippi, should a thaw in the northwest occur, we may have another vast flood in the lower valley of the Father of Waters. Whatever precautionary measures may be possible, should be promptly taken, for already we hear notes of warning from Memphis and from Indianapolis. It is time, not for vain lamentation and vainer regrets, but for such energetic and faithful action as will make the present situation less terrible to the sufferers, and provide the future with. all the safeguards that modern engineering skill can devise. The N. Y. Tribune suggests higher embankments, or a system of canals and overflow basins, such as are in use along the Rhine, but doubts if even the best possible of such precautionary works would have safely disposed of the waters of so great a rise. It is remarkable the greatest floods, except the present, of which we have any knowledge, occurred in 1832 and in 1847, before the forests were cut, so that the destruction of the timber is not the only source of danger from floods in our vast western river valleys. The independence and courage of the suf ferers has called forth warm commendation, but should not and will not restrain the generous impulse of the people at large who are eagerly vieing with each other in giving forth such substantial aid as the situation renders possible. It is deeply gratifying to learn that while Cincinnati has made no appeal for outside help, she has been remembered in her distress by more favored communities, and that money, contributions of various sorts, and offers of aid come pouring in from many quarters. We cannot doubt that the heart of the people is touched by the sufferings in the west, and that the general prosperity of the land will balance the woe and want that must for a time be felt in the now flooded districts. Sickness, perhaps amounting to pestilence, is also to be apprehended as a consequence of this visitation. At Louis- straightening the channel, thus employing ville, Kentucky, a Sanitary Commission has been formed, and medical stations fixed in several parts of the city, and we hope other places will take timely care to ward off serious conditions of unhealthfulness. In the North American Review for the coming month, is a carefully prepared article on the "Subjugation of the Mississippi,” by Robert S. Taylor, a member of the Mississippi Commission. He believes that the dangers from the vast floods to which that river is liable, can be best averted by deepening and the forces developed by the current of the great stream itself. The suffering and loss which must attend the retiring of the present floods will stimulate the energies of those to whom this great work is intrusted. MARRIED. KIRBY-WARD.-On Second month 14th, 1883, with the approbation of Salem Monthly Meeting, Chalkley Kirby, Jr., of Harrisonville, Gloucester co., N. J., to Emma L. Ward, of Salem, N. J. WHITE-HOLT.—On Fifth-day, First mo. 25th, 1883, at the residence of the bride's mother. Norristown, Pa., under the care of the Monthly Meeting of Philadelphia, Horace G. White, son of Thomas White, and Ella K., daughter of Jane S., and the late Alan W. Holt, formerly of Philadelphia. DIED. BOND.-On Second month 9th, 1883, at the residence of her daughter, Jane H. Tomlinson, in Newtown, Bucks county, Pa., Lucillia Bond, widow of the late Abraham Bond, aged 94 years. Although not a member of our Society, she was, when health permitted, a regular attender of Friends' Meeting in Newtown, from the time of its first establishment, until she was incapacitated by age and bodily infirmity. I. E. LIPPINCOTT.-Suddenly, of apoplexy, on Second_mo. 7th, 1883, Anna Ogden, wife of Josiah H, Lippincott, and daughter of the late David C. Ogden. MCVEY.-On Fifth-day, Eleventh mo. 16th, 1882, in Morgan co., Ohio, Reuben MeVey, in the 83d year of his age. And on Third-day, Third mo. 21st, 1882, Betsey McVey, wife of Reuben McVey, in the 72d year of her age. After an exemplary wedded life of 55 years, they took their departure from earth and its trials, to the home of their ripened spirits, leaving to the families of their seven sons and three daughters an example of humility and meekness. WRIGHT.-On Second month 16th, 1883, John S. Wright, in his 70th year; a member of Green street Monthly Meeting. EMERSON AND CARLYLE. That these eminent men, so different in their personal characteristics, one cheerful and healthful as the morning-ever young in heart and ever hopeful-the other deepthoughted, grim, and sad, should have been united in a cordial friendship, and have exchanged frequent letters giving full expression to their inmost thoughts on many living topics for nearly 40 years, is one of those happy episodes in literary annals for which we may all be thankful. Their correspondence, edited by Charles Eliot Norton, is about to be published by J. R. Osgood & Co. The N. Y. Tribune has some extracts from the promised book, which give a foretaste of its high qualities. How Carlyle prized Emerson in the earlier days, is shown by a letter written in 1837, upon receiving a copy of his friend's remarkable oration on the "American Scholar." "My friend! you know not what you have done for me there. It was long decades of years that I had heard nothing but the infinite jangling and jabbering, and inarticulate twittering and screeching, and my soul had sunk down sorrowful, and said there is no articulate speaking then any more, and thou art solitary among stranger-creatures? and lo, out of the West comes a clear utterance, clearly recognizable as a man's voice, and I have a kinsman and brother: God be thanked for it! I could have wept to read that speech; the clear high melody of it went tingling through my heart; I said to my wife, 'There, woman!' She read; and returned, and charges me to return for answer, 'that there had been nothing met with like it since Schiller went silent.' My brave Emerson." Emerson writes to Carlyle in terms of cordial praise and encouragement. He congratulates his friend on his "Teufels dröckh," which met with a cold reception. "Truth is ever born in a manger, but is compensated by living till it has all fools for its kingdom. Far, far better seems to me the unpopularity of this Philosophical Poem (shall I call it?) than the adulation that followed your eminent friend Goethe. With him I am becoming better acquainted, but mine must be a qualified admiration. It is a singular piece of good nature in you to apotheosize him. I cannot but regard it as his misfortune, with conspicuous bad influence on his genius-that velvet life he led. What incongruity for genius, whose fit ornaments and reliefs are poverty and hatred, to repose fifty years on chairs of state! and what pity that his Duke did not cut off his head to save him from the mean end (forgive) of retiring from the municipal incense 'to arrange tastefully his gift and medals!' Then the Puritan in me accepts no apology for bad morals in such as he. We can tolerate vice in a splendid nature whilst that nature is battling with the brute majority in defense of some human principle. The sympathy his manhood and his misfortunes call out adopts even his faults; but genius pampered, acknowledged, crowned, can only retain our sympathy by turning the same force once expended against outward enemies now against inward, and carrying forward and planting the standard of Oromasdes so many leagues tarther on into the envious Dark. Failing this, it loses its nature and becomes talent, according to the definition,-more skill in attaining vulgar ends. A certain wonderful friend of mine said that' a false priest is the falsest of false things.' But what makes the priest? A cassock? O Diogenes! Or the power (and thence the call) to teach man's duties as they flow from the Superhuman? Is not he who perceives and proclaims, the Su perhumanities, he who has once intelligently pronounced the words 'Self-Renouncement,' Invisible Leader,' 'Heavenly Powers of Sorrow,' and so on, forever the liege of the same? "The good word lasts forever; the impure word can only buoy itself in the gross gas that now envelops us, and will sink altogether to ground as that works itself clear in the everlasting effort of God." The two seers thus exchange their ideas of Daniel Webster in 1839. Says Carlyle: Not many days ago I saw at breakfast the notablest of all your notabilities, Daniel Webster. He is a magnificent specimen; you might say to all the world, this is your Yankee Englishman, such Limbs we make in Yankeeland! As a Logic-fencer, Advocate, or Parliamentary Hercules one would incline to back him at first sight against all the extant world. The tanned complexion, that amorphous crag-like face; the dull black eyes under their precipice of brows, like dull anthracite furnaces, needing only to be blown ; the mastiff-mouth, accurately closed. I have not traced as much of silent Berserkir-rage, that I remember of, in any other man. guess I should not like to be your nigger!' -Webster is not loquacious, but he is pertinent, conclusive; a dignified, perfectly bred man, though not English in breeding; a man worthy of the best reception from us, and meeting such, I understand. He did not speak much with me that morning, but seemed not at all to dislike me. I meditate whether it is fit or not fit that I should seek out his residence, and leave my card, too, before I go? Probably not, for the man is political, seemingly altogether; has been at the Queen's levee, etc., etc. It is simply as a mastiff-mouthed man that he is interesting to me, and not otherwise at all." mons. I Emerson replies: "I cannot tell you how glad I am that you have seen my brave Senator, and seen him as I see him. All my days I have wished that he should go to England, and never more than when I listened two or three times to debates in the House of ComWe send out usually mean persons as public agents, mere partisans, for whom I can only hope that no man with eyes will meet them; and now those thirsty eyes, those portrait-eating, portrait-painting eyes of thine, those fatal perceptions, have fallen full on the great forehead which I followed about all my young days, from court house to Senate chamber, from caucus to street. He has his own sins no doubt, is no saint, is a prodigal. He has drunk this rum of Party, too, so long that his strong head is soaked, sometimes even like the soft sponges, but the 'man's a man for a' that.' Better, he is a great boy-as I wilful, as nonchalant, and good humored. But you must hear him speak, not a show speech which he never does well, but with cause he can strike a stroke like a smith. owe to him a hundred fine hours and two or three moments of Eloquence. His voice in a great house is admirable. I am sorry if you decided not to visit him. He loves a man, too. I do not know him, but my brother Edward read law with him and loved him, and afterward, in sick and unfortunate days, received the steadiest kindness from him." To Carlyle the father heart of Emerson in his sorrow cries out in later days and the Scotch philosopher replies wisely and tenderly. "My dear friend, you should have had this letter and these messages by the last steamer; but when it sailed, my son, a perfect little boy of five years and three months, had ended his earthly life. You can never sympathize with me; you can never know how much of me such a young child can take away. A few weeks ago I accounted myself a very rich man, and now the poorest of all. What would it avail to tell you anecdotes of a sweet and wonderful boy, such as we solace and sadden ourselves with at home every morning and evening? From a perfect health and as happy a life and as happy influences as ever child enjoyed, he was hurried out of my arms in three short days by Scarlatina. We have two babes yet one girl of three years, and one girl of three months and a week, but a promise like that boy's I shall never see. How often I have pleased myself that one day I should send to you this Morning Star of mine, and stay at home so gladly behind such a representative. I dare not fathom the Invisible and Untold to inquire what relations to my departed ones I yet sustain. Lidian, the poor Lidian, moans at home by day and by night. You, too, will grieve for us, afar." Carlyle to Emerson. "This is heavy news that you send me; the heaviest outward bereavement that can befall a man has overtaken you. Your calm tone of deep, quiet sorrow, coming in on the rear of poor trivial worldly businesses, all punctually dispatched and recorded, too, as if the Higher and Highest had not been busy with you, tells me a sad tale. What can we say in these cases? There is nothing to be said-nothing but what the wild son of Ishmael, and every thinking heart, from of old have learned to say: God is great! He is terrible and stern; but we know also He is good. Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.' Your bright little Boy, chief of your possessions here below, is rapt away from you; but of very truth he is with God, even as we that yet live are--and surely in the way that was best for him, and for you, and | It is of such material that Thebaid Eremites, for all of us. Poor Lidian Emerson, poor Sect-founders, and all manner of crossgrained Mother! To her I have no word. Such fanatical monstrosities have fashioned thempoignant, unspeakable grief, I believe, visits no creature as that of a Mother bereft of her child. The poor sparrow in the bush affects one with pity, mourning for its young; how much more the human soul of one's Friend! I cannot bid her be of comfort; for there is as yet no comfort. May good influences watch over her, bring her some assuagement. As the Hebrew David said, 'We shall go to him, he will not return to us.' In 1842 they exchange views in regard to A. Bronson Alcott, who at that time visited the British Isles. Carlyle to Emerson, 1842. Directly about the time of Sterling's departure came Alcott, some two weeks after I had heard of his arrival on these shores. He has been twice here, at considerable length —the second time all night. He is a genial, innocent, simple-hearted man, of much natural intelligence and goodness, with an air of rusticity, veracity, and dignity withal, which in many ways appeals to one. The good Alcott; with his long, lean face and figure, with his gray worn temples and mild radiant eyes; all bent on saving the world by a return to acorns and the golden age; he comes before one like a kind of venerable Don Quixote, whom nobody can even laugh at without loving." Emerson to Carlyle. "As for Alcott, you have discharged your conscience of him manfully and knightly; I absolve you well. He is a great man and was made for what is greatest, but I now fear that he has already touched what best he can, and through his more than a prophet's egotism, and the absence of all useful reconciling talents, will bring nothing to pass, and be but a voice in the wilderness. As you do not seem to have seen in him his pure and noble intellect, I fear that it lies under some new and denser clouds." Carlyle to Emerson. 66 What you say of Alcott seems to me altogether just. He is a man who has got into the Highest intellectual region-if that be the Highest (though in that too there are many stages) wherein a man can believe and discern for himself, without need of help from any other, and even in opposition to all others; but I consider him entirely unlikely to accomplish anything considerable, except some kind of crabbed, semi-perverse, though still manful existence of his own; which indeed is no despicable thing. His more than prophetic egotism.'-alas, yes! selves—in very high and in the highest regions, for that matter. Sect-founders withal are a class I do not like. No truly great man from Jesus Christ downward, as I often say, ever founded a Sect-I mean wilfully intended founding one. What a view must a man have of this universe, who thinks he can swallow it all,' who is not doubly and trebly happy that he can keep it from swallowing him! On the whole, I sometimes hope we have now done with fanatics and agonistic posture-makers in this poor world; it will be an immense improvement on the past; and the New Ideas,' as Alcott calls them, will The old gloomy Gothic cathedrals were good; prosper greatly the better on that account. but the great blue dome that hangs over all is better than any Cologne one. On the whole, do not tell the good Alcott a word of all this; but let him love me as he can, and live on vegetables in peace; as I, living partly on vegetables, will continue to love him!" From the American Antiquarian. DESCRIPTION OF AN ANCIENT AZTEC TOWN IN NEW MEXICO. [Made from personal_observation by WM. H. A. READ, Toledo, Ohio.] New Mexico and Arizona contain the sites of many ancient towns and cities of great interest, but none more so than those situated near the Pecos river, in Raton Pass, in the northern part of the former territory. The pueblo is known by the name of Pecos, and is in a fair state of preservation for a ruin. Not only is it of interest to the scientific student, but it is an object of veneration to the native people. It is at this pueblo tradition places the birth place of Montezuma, and to which he is claimed to have returned after dying in the hands of Cortez from the wound of the arrow shot by his own countrymen, and where he then told his people to watch for his return, and commanded them to keep the sacred fires burning on the estufas until that time. It was here that the few faithful still watched and looked for their expected chief, when all other estufas of the once powerful Aztec had been abandoned and their fires long expired. Only in the early part of the present century, was this, the last estufa, the sole representative of the huge altars of the City of Mexico, where the pomp of the Aztec religion with its terrible human sacrifices was celebrated in all its heathen glories abandoned, and its flames allowed to expire. The pass in which Pecos is situated is several miles in width, and has a number of hills care used in construction. They were ar ranged with a square or plaza in the centre' with all entrances opening in, so that being adjacent to one another they formed a solid wall around the plaza, thus making a third wall more difficult to scale than either of the others, and impregnable to anything at that day known, unless possibly a battering ram, which, in the narrow space between the wall and row of houses, it would be impossible to operate. These houses were, some of them, at least two stories high, but I think the rule was one. On only one was I certain of the second story. This house was the best preserved of all, and the only one that had a roof or ceiling or the walls complete, most of them being filled with the stone that composed them when intact, and were now mere heaps of building material. This house was nearly covered with fallen debris, but I determined to enter. After two hours spent in digging and removing stone, I was rewarded by effecting an opening through which I crawled, and found myself where probably no white man had been since the days of the Spaniards in New Mexico. The room was about 12 x 12, and six feet high. The stone ceiling was supported by sapling timbers that will soon let the roof in to fill up the house. By scraping up the dirt floor I uncovered ashes and charcoal. There were two stones about one and a half feet square, with trimmed sides and angles, in the room, which may have been used as seats; at least I used one as such, and resting from my work tried to imagine This tried to imagine an Aztec on the other, and how he would answer the many questions I would ask, could I cause him to speak. located within its boundaries. On one of the | Many of the stones in both walls and houses were of large size; some weighing hundreds of pounds, with trimmed and square sides, were lying inside and outside of the town. They had been cemented together with no poor cement, for several times I found two large squared rocks which had evidently fallen or rolled some distance still firmly fastened together. In the plaza, which was nearly an acre in size, were three large cistern-like holes one evidently for storing grain, the banks of its mouth being slightly raised and slanting away from the hole to prevent the water from entering. The natural dampness of the ground was not to be feared, for from the nature of the soil and the abruptness of the hill there would be none. In the bottom of this I found a mill for rubbing grain, but, as it weighed about one hundred pounds, left it. It was the same utensil that is in common use among the native population to-day, and by them called metate. It consists of a stone about two and a half feet long by one and a half wide, in which is worn a groove or hollow within which the grain is rubbed to a powder with a stone |