On First-day afternoon the 19th, a Conference was held at Homeville (the extreme western limit of Western Quarter), by the Temperance Committee of that Quarterly Meeting. It was a satisfactory occasion, the life and interest in the subject increasing as it was unfolded by the speakers in attendance. Robert Hatton, who has recently settled within the limits of Pennsgrove Meeting, and Samuel Swain, of Bristol, were present, and had good service in the cause.

The Conferences of this Quarter are held monthly, the next one will be at Pennsgrove.

Eighth mo. 20th, 1883.

FRIENDS' INTELLIGENCER.

R.

less is religion divorced from morals; menreligious men—are wakening up to a consciousness of the meaning of that ancient declaration, "What God hath joined together let not man put asunder," and though this was first enunciated in behalf of marriage, it becomes all the more significant when we take in the momentous fact, that all progress in the right direction is dependent upon the purity, the sanctity of this relation. There can be no true recognition of human rights and relationships without pure lives and pure homes. They are the foundation stones for the superstructure of society that the coming ages must build.

OUR COMMON BROTHERHOOD.-It is one of the problems that the wisdom of our Christian civilization has not yet solved, How far the individuality and the material interests of nations and peoples can be maintained and the common brotherhood of the race acknowledged.

That nearly 2,000 years should have passed

since it was made a distinctive tenet of a

religious faith, and so little advance towards its attainment resulted, is evidence of the slow progress that the world makes towards its highest ideals, and of how long it takes to awaken the great heart of humanity to its best interests.

In the forward progress, so slowly making, the great drawback of all enlightened communities is the load of debris left as an inheritance of the times when might gave right, and passion and impulse were the levers of motion. This must mar the work and hinder the consummation so greatly to be desired, when nation shall no longer lift up sword against nation nor men learn war any more. It is this inheritance from the ages that the religion of the present has to contend with—is encumbered with. Leaders and philanthropists in the Church are realizing this, and changing the methods of work. Less and less is the voice raised in defence of particular dogma, the cry, I am for Paul and I for Cephas, grows fainter along the lines, as I am for the Christ, the Anointer, rises on the

reliance. Where men and women cherish

the sweet and tender emotions that cluster around the domestic hearth, the influence, like the bubbling spring, overflows to freshen and enrich all within its reach.

So from home to home its benedictions pass, and the little rills meeting and commingling will become broader and deeper until the whole ocean of humanity feels the refreshing and ennobling impulse.

Let us all work for this end, that its coming may be hastened through our endeavor.

DIED.

BARTON.-On First-day morning, Eighth mo. 12th, 1883, after a lingering illness, at her residence, in Philadelphia, Maria, wife of Samuel Barton, and only daughter of the late William and Prudence Adams, in the 73d year of her age.

DEMING.-Suddenly, on Seventh month 19th, 1883. at Stamford, Delaware co., N. Y., Anne J. Deming, aged 35 years, daughter of John J. and Rebecca A. S. Janney of Columbus, Ohio.

JOHNSTON.-On the evening of Eighth mo. 20th, 1883, at her residence, Penn Hill, Lancaster co., Pa., Mercy K., widow of Alexander Johnston, in her 63d year; a minister of Little Britain Monthly Meeting.

PLUMSTEAD. - On Fourth-day, Eighth mo. 15th, 1883, Rebecca, wife of Robert Plumstead, of Upper Darby, Pa., in her 79th year.

SMITH.-On Eighth month 3d, 1883, at her residence, near Mullica Hill, N. J., Caroline W. Smith, aged 45 years; a much beloved Minister of the Society of Friends.

ber, but in early life felt that duty called her This dear Friend was not a birthright memto apply for membership, and she became a

member of Pilesgrove Monthly Meeting. Attending faithfully to the unfoldings of Truth upon her mind, a precious gift of Gospel Ministry was conferred upon her. In its faithful occupancy she grew therein, much to the comfort and edification of those among whom she labored. Her health being precarious, she was unable to go much abroad, but her labors of love were much appreciated wherever she became known. She endured for years much bodily suffering with exemplary patience and resiguation, and we can but feel that in her early removal the loss to her precious family and to the Church has been very great, but to her it has doubtless been a happy release; her purified spirit now enjoys that "reward in store for the righteous."

For Friends' Intelligencer.

A. J. P.

NIAGARA-A THRICE TOLD TALE-VI.

I should like to find language adequate to describe the view unfolded this glowing summer day (Eighth mo. 10th) from the utmost pinnacle of the Convent of Loretto overlooking Niagara. The situation is the very high. est attainable in this region, and is as near the Horse shoe Falls as the judicious architect might venture to place an edifice which it was hoped might stand for centuries and be the religious retreat of many generations of women, and the educational home of young maidens for years to come.

Yonder-broad, silvery and tranquilcomes the noble river from the southwest, which bears ocean ward the vast waters of the Great Lakes, seemingly unconscious of a ripple upon its breast. A distinct line of breakers marks the commencement of the rapids, and the surface is broken into an eternal, roaring, plunging fury, as uncongenial to the serenity above as is the tempest to the calm. Islets of picturesque beauty lie firm and safe amid the tumult of the great waters. Rich and fruitful are these the homes of singing birds and the vantage ground of the Children of Flora. Cedar Island is a crescent shaped strip of land lying right at the foot of the convent, connected with the main land by bridges, and traversed by a good carriage road. This makes a pleasant afternoon stroll for us, and is prob. ably half a mile in length. We go off at the northern end, and then follow a smooth pathway to the very brink of the rocky table, down which the great waters solemnly plunge in calm obedience to the great law of Creation, the immutable Word of God, which we call gravitation. We pass onward till we gain a position almost facing the majestic descent, and sit down awed and tranquilized by a solemn glory that no one has ever' adequately praised or painted. Toe snowy mist cloud is forever ascending from the downy abyss of waters, and the arch of Iris extends in more than a semicircle from

of

one side to the other of the dividing island which should have been ever as it was once the "Island of Iris," instead of Goat Island. As we look, the abundant mist and the glowing sunbeams build a secondary arch, and the wealth of color reaches its culminating point. We have the serene blue of the overarching sky, the transparent sea green the descending waters, the whiteness of the broken and comminuted floods, the pure semi-transparent cloud of spray, the vivid living green of forest, green-sward and moss bank, the brown foam that remains upon the deep after its mighty plunge, and the shifting fitful glory of Iris as the descending sun's slant beams, also in obedience to immutable law, work their wondrous alchemy. "It is good for us to be here" was the heartfelt cry of the rapt disciple when his eyes beheld a glory that was more than that of earth, and he felt the benediction of the Divine Presence. Who would not desire to make Niagara an altar and a shrine, and call all the children of men to join in an anthem of accordant joy and triumphant praise. And yet it is not evident that this wondrous scene has any exalting power on the souls of men. The place which should be the most sacred here, in the closest presence of infinite beauty and grandeur, is occupied by a hostlerie, stored with poisonous liquors which are offered to the insensate passers-by, and half intoxicated men lounge sleepily in arm chairs on the piazza, fanned by the watery breath of the cataract, and closing their eyes upon inexpressible beauty. "A whiff of stale debauch " is noticeable even here. We Americans, who deem every thing possible, and who are so sure that all wrongs can be righted if we only set about it with due energy, desire the confiscation of such pestiferous property, and that this temple of Jehovah may be made and kept clear of pollution, and sacred to lofty thought and uplifting harmonies, forever.

The State of New York has a commission at work on the other side, arranging for the permanent consecration of Niagara Falls, and its rescue from the coarse utilitarianism which cares not for the things that speak to the soul, but would appropriate them all to mammon, "the least erected spirit that fell from heaven." Speed the day of deliverance when a great State shall with generous grace conserve and hold for mankind that which is supremely beautiful and excellent in majesty, and cleanse away from its sacred precincts all that offends the finer sense-all that pollutes and poisons the springs of human life.

Before descending from the convent heights we take a survey of the remarkably smooth and fertile plain which extends to the north

and west from the banks of Niagara river to the far horizon. Immediately behind the convent we observe a beautifully cultivated tract of land as level as a floor, divided into large, symmetrical fields, and covered with maturing crops. This is the monastery farm, consisting of 200 acres, and with the convent property it would be a domain that might fill the heart of a prince with pride. There are herds of kine grazing contentedly on the rich pastures, and a remnant of forest yet remains upon the fair fields. The Fathers have not stripped away all sylvan beauty from their territory, and certain ancient patriarchs of the forest, with borderings of hopeful young neophytes, will for generations comfort and bless with kindly shade the coming man. Orchards, too, are planted and are ready to bear their fruitage when summer is a little older, while a large and carefully tended garden is plainly the source of the vegetables which supply our table.

But any visitor from the States must be struck by the scarcity of the population. A colony of Italian laborers are busy as bees constructing a broader roadway for the Canada Southern Railway, and one or two lay sisters are occupied in the convent garden. But besides these there is hardly any sign of human activity. The sleepy little hamlet of Drummondville is about a mile to the northwest and is the only town in view on this side of the river. Why are not towns as thickly dotted over this fine region as in corresponding localities in the United States, and what paralyzing power has the rule of England, that Anglo-Saxon and Celt here are so unprogressive, and just over the border so impetuously energetic, so confident and so jubilant. The contrast is very impressive.

The unmodified Englishman, blonde, stout, stolid and direct, has his habitat on the Canadian fields; the Irishman with his unconquerable hate for Saxon rule and all his race characteristic, dark and bright; the Canadian Frenchman, so curiously different from the conquering race; and the rugged Scotchman with his traditions of heroic steadfastness, are material from which the homogeneous people of Canada are being evolved. Judging from physiognomy, the aboriginal Indian contributes something to the forming strata of Canadian population.

Our convent view of the Niagara does not reach far down the river. Its entire length is only 26 miles-22 from Lake Erie to the falls and 14 miles from the falls to Ontario. The phenomena which are included in Niagara scenery culminate at the Whirlpool, some three or four miles to the northward, where the river turns abruptly at right angles, in its swift career, and finds egress

for its immense volume of tormented water toward Lake Ontario.

To reach this interesting point we take the train on the Canada Southern Railroad, and in a few moments are set down at Clifton, whence a carriage bears us the remaining distance of a mile and a half. As we must expect at Niagara, a toll-gate is placed at the entrance which admits to the view, and every visitor pays fifty cents for entrance and a ride down the steep precipice which incloses the boiling chaldron, that so lately engulfed the strong swimmer who dared its fury. We walk through the house, pass down a stairway a considerable distance to a convenient platform which overhangs the circular amphitheatre where the imprisoned flood in blind fury seeks egress, roars and rages. There are seats, and we may rest at this halfway station and meditate on the rounded surface of the baffled waters and their picturesque environment.

The drainage of almost half a continent is here strangely condensed, heaped and hurled aloft, whirled round, and then finding an outlet, however inadequate, rushes onward with fury and power unspeakable on its way to the deep calin depths of Ontario, where soothed under the blue heavens, cradled in the caressing arms of this mysterious sea, it is prepared to issue forth peaceful and soft among the fairy-like islets of the St. Lawrence, and onward adown the mighty river to the Atlantic.

We rest here a season and then walk across to the wooden railway down the rocks, and taking seats in the waiting car are swiftly enough launched downward the perilous-looking incline. I grasp the slender rods which hold a canopy over us, and when just in the swiftest, steepest place, am conscious of a buzz and whirr, a sharp, painful sting in the face, and a most unwelcome presence there. With one hand I brush away the enemy and receive another painful sting on the knuckle, which dissipates all my sense of joy in the sublime. But we are safely at the bottom of the incline. Fresh plantain leaves cool the fever of the sting, and we are soon contentedly rambling along the low pathway which winds about the foot of the precipice to the near marge of the tormented waters. we sit and contemplate the wondrous cañon in the Silurian rocks which has been cleft by the river in its long incessant battle with resisting earth barriers.

Here

We are told that within the memory of those now living the Falls have receded 100 feet. The plunge of the mass of waters is a constant and active force which antagonizes the firmness of the ancient rock ribs of the earth; the ice wedge, with each returning