excuse. Might he not become a Pagan Mr. Lugwine, that Walter Brown soon himself, and live with a happiness which now was impossible to him? But his mental experiments in this direction had not been at all successful. Defaulter though he was, fugitive from justice, and ostracised by society, he nevertheless encountered, at every point where he attempted an assault upon his old self, a quantity and quality of moral sense from which he could not divest himself. He had cursed its existence, but it had remained unshaken by his anger. It was not, as he at first fondly imagined, a set of mental abstractions which he had assumed and put on, like his theory of politics or his last suit of clothes; it was a very element of his life, obtained by inheritance, and, though susceptible to abuse, it was superior to all attempts against its exist ence. In Lugwine, however, Brown found hope. Here was a Pagan, absolutely and without modification, yet he was a man of the present generation and the neighbor and acquaintance of moralists of the nineteenth century. Right and wrong apparently were meaningless terms to him, except when translated by his own selfishness. He spoke as coolly of offences against moral and social law as if they were not offences at all; and although those he alluded to were seldom of any magnitude, the thoroughness of his approval of them clearly indicated that virtue as a motive of conduct could never find favor in his eyes. And yet, he did not seem to be vicious; he wished harm only to his enemies, and seemed to be willing that the rest of the world should be as comfortable as he himself desired to be. He was not a model for the young defaulter who had been reared on a social plane infinitely removed from that of the Bottom, but he was that which to the enquiring mind is sometimes dearer than a model; he was an indication. It is often inconvenient to follow a model, but around an indication the most wayward and erratic mind may play at will. Where would a large class of our scientists be, had Mr. Darwin pronounced the ape a model instead of a mere indication, a suggestion? So fascinating and consoling were the thoughts created by the contemplation of found himself an earnest student of this representative Bottomite. Mr. Lugwine's conversational powers were few, and such as he possessed were safe from annoyance by their owner's languid will. His facial organs, however, not being subject unto will, expressed a great deal after the tongue had ceased to speak, and Brown therefore studied the old man's face with an earnestness and persistency which might have frightened Lugwine had his almost phenomenal indifference ever allowed him to realize what an object of interest he had become. Whether, could he have been for an instant endowed with his companion's acute powers of percep tion, and employed them upon his companion's countenance, he would not have been more than frightened, does not clearly appear. Meanwhile the invisible powers were preparing an answer to the pious pilot's prayer for bad weather. The Deacon was roused one morning by information that the mist was so thick that the steersman could not tell whether he was in the channel or in shore. The Deacon came on deck at once, listened upon either quarter for sounds which should indicate how far distant either bank of the stream might be, threw the lead repeatedly, and did all that careful flatboat pilot could have done, and yet, he seemed remarkably cheerful. Then rain began to fall through the mist, so that the Deacon had to don an oil-skin coat, and still the Deacon was cheerful. As the rain increased the mist disappeared, daylight came, the rain poured in torrents, and the Deacon's joy was complete; for the boat was safe, the rain promised to fall all day, so that all hands but the man on deck would be obliged to remain under cover, and Brown's "watch" was twelve hours off.* The victim had been awake but a few moments before he clearly foresaw his doom. He tried to determine upon a day of exercise upon deck; surely he had hunted ducks many a day, in the East, when the weather was worse than it was on the Mississippi on this particular day. Somehow, though, a * On flatboats the day is divided into four watches of six hours each. man's determination is not so powerful when there is to be some hunting done in which he himself is to be the game instead of the sportsman, and when he tries against such odds, to excite the determination before breakfast. As he could not stimulate an honorable passion to assist him against the Deacon, he tried to get thoroughly angry at the old man, but in this attempt also he failed, for the Deacon looked neither solemn, nor pugnacious, nor any other way but perfectly cheerful and manly. Then Brown attempted the part of the beaten cur, and sulked successfully for a few moments; but that part of human nature which makes some men superior to the brutes, rescued him from this humor only to drop him into a lower one, for Brown determined to play the part which is the favorite of all highly intelligent sinners-he would sharpen his wits and prostitute them in any way if only he could beat the Deacon. This resolve did not trouble his conscience in the least, for he was probably as ignorant as every one else is of the existence of any great number of people who would not cheerfully prostitute logic to any extent for the sake of gaining an intellectual victory. Soole, The Deacon talked very little during breakfast; his mind seemed to be soaring above the common plane of breakfast-table conversation on the "Sam Weller." who added to his nautical duties the profession of cook, noticed that the Deacon took a cup more than usual of coffee; it would have augured ill, too, for the intellectual prospects of any one but a flatboat pilot, that the Deacon consumed an immense quantity of fried pork and buckwheat cakes. As for Brown, he became so nervous that he could hardly eat at all. A man who is going to fight against his inherited instincts always realizes that he has a hard fight before him, even when the instincts themselves are bad and their owner's intention good; how faint must be the heart of the man who prepares to war against the better part of his real self? The Deacon went on deck to fortify himself with a silent prayer; the defaulter stayed below and fortified himself with a pipe of tobacco. A few moments later the Deacon descended the cabin ladder just as Brown was knocking the ashes from his pipe; the eyes of the two men met, and then the Deacon learned for the first time that his proposed attack would not be unexpected. The effect was that the Deacon became temporarily demoralized and repulsed, while his antagonist grew elated and careless, allowing his hurriedly organized wits to disperse to their various quarters and their ease. But the Deacon had often pondered upon and profited by the scriptural injunction, "Be ye wise as serpents." To his mind the wisdom of the serpent consisted of dissimulation, so with this faculty he had become remarkably proficient. He postponed his intended movement for an hour or two, chatted upon matters pertaining to the boat and the river, told a few good stories, and finally had the defaulter and the remainder of the crew in excellent humor. Then he picked up an old newspaper, apparently by accident, and read various headings in a desultory manner. Finally he read, as if to himself, "H'm-the Campbellites intend to erect a church edifice at Brackelsville, and to call a pastor.' Well, well! There are more church edifices and pastors in town now than people can make use of." "That is natural enough," laughed Brown. "Churches and preachers in general aren't what the people want so much as they want somebody who will talk to them in their own way in particular." The Deacon had not expected so prompt a response, but the spirit of Brown's reply was such as to destroy the pleasure which the readiness of the answer might have called forth. The Deacon mused earnestly for a moment, though with as straight a face as if he were simply absorbing additional items of local news from the paper; then he replied: "There's a good deal of truth in that, and yet people bein' as they be, there's an excuse for it. Even the apostle speaks well of the foolishness of preachin,' you know, so it isn't wonderful that folks should prefer to worship God in their own way." "They're not so fond, though, of the foolishness of doing right; and of insisting after they get into churches, upon their privilege and duty to live righteously." "H'm!" breathed the Deacon to himself, "that's what I should call 'abusin' plaintiff's attorney.' He's weaker than he thinks, but there's no knowin' how he may feel when he finds out his shakiness." Then the Deacon said aloud:. "That's true-that's very true. A good many people only get far enough into relig ion to save their souls, or to think they save 'em. An' when they some day do somethin' outrageous, they're a good deal worse scamps than other men, just because they promise to be better. But they don't know it, poor sinners." The Deacon's concession had been made for the purpose of disarming his enemy, but it did far more than the old man knew, for Walter Brown had been one of the model young men whose names are always on church-rolls,—or were, less than a generation ago. The wound hurt the young man severely, and the only way he could avoid showing his pain was by laughing at it. "All that is because men came to wonder whether they understand clearly what is right and what is wrong. Right and wrong are merely relative terms." ceive it. Indeed, the Deacon could not imagine how Brown, with such a habit of mind, had not long ago been brought under conviction, unless it was that the Lord had reserved him as a special gift for the Deacon: on suspicion that such might be the case, the good old man breathed a fervent thank-offering to heaven, and began work in earnest. "I s'pose you don't believe in the Bible, then?" "Not as a safe guide for business men," said the defaulter, filling his pipe anew. "Just what I say," remarked Lugwine, looking longingly at Brown's tobacco-pouch. Brown accepted the hint, while the Deacon cast a withering glance at the Bottomite, and proceeded : "Jesus thought it good enough." "But Jesus wasn't a business man," suggested Brown. The Deacon winced, but continued: "He was better; he taught something that included everything else-business and "Not according to Scripture," interposed he was before, but bless me! where am I? the Deacon. I don't get along any faster than he does." "That's bad for Scripture, then," said The Deacon made a mighty effort to say Brown. something that would put him upon the track he wished to follow, and at last he said: The Deacon groaned inwardly. He knew little of philosophy, except from such attacks as his own denominational journal made upon it from time to time. But he now had no doubt that his antagonist was a philosopher. The good old man speedily recovered his courage, however, for was not a philosopher a person who reasoned? Could a teacher of the Word ask for a better listener than a man of the reasoning habit? (The Deacon should not be too severely blamed for this blunder, for he had never before met an avowed philosopher of that very common type which makes reason the bondman of rascality.) The Christian religion, as a logical system, was always on the Deacon's tongue, ready for instant use; but never before had he met any one who seemed intellectually so competent to re “Don't you believe in Jesus?” The defaulter wanted to answer boldly, but he did not find lying so easy an operation in a discussion as it was in business, so he hid his face with a cloud of smoke before he answered: "No." The Deacon would have suspected the young man of untruthfulness had he not suspected him of being a philosopher. At length he said: "Do you believe in anything in place of him?" "Yes-myself," answered Brown. "Well," drawled the Deacon, concealing his horror with great success, "it's first rate to believe in somebody that you're well acquainted with, and that you know is all spose, but then-well, he ain't exactly my right." kind." A telling shot hurts us less when it is fired at random, than when it is the result of deliberate aim. Brown glared at the Deacon with eyes like those of a wild beast about to spring, and the fact that the old man was still leisurely looking up and down the columns of the newspaper was more enraging than if he had seemed to have made his remark maliciously, and with full knowledge of the facts. The silence was becoming extremely unpleasant to Brown, who could devise no appropriate retort; and when it was finally broken, the defaulter would have preferred it intact again, for it was old Lugwine who spoke, and he uttered only the words, "that's so." The Deacon finally spoke again, and unfolded, modestly, sincerely and ably, the orthodox idea of Christ and his work. He did it without interruption, for Brown's temper in subsiding, left its owner perfectly listless, though once or twice the habit of the scholar made him wish he might be other than he was, that he might improve in certain points the Deacon's statement of doctrines which he himself had many a time enunciated more clearly than the Deacon was doing. The old man closed his exordium with prayer (silent) and went upon deck, from which position he shouted that the boat was nearing Memphis, and he should lay her ashore long enough to go to the post office. Lugwine volunteered to accompany him, and when the couple returned to the boat, Lugwine's movements were so full of mystery that Soole and Tanker cautiously snuffed the air to ascertain, if possible, whether their messmate had been drinking. Finally, the Bottomite edged. gently toward Brown and whispered: "You kin read writin', can't you?" "I think I can," replied Brown, after mature deliberation. Brown meekly swallowed the compliment implied by Lugwine's closing sentence, but stated that he felt delicate about hearing family details of which he had no right to know. "Oh, never mind that," said Lugwine, cheerfully. My gals ain't big enough to git married, nur the boys to go to jail, so I reckon ther hain't no secrets in it. Fire away." Thus assured, Brown read the missive, of which the following is a painstaking copy: "Deer Kane, i take mi pen in han ur Mriar Trugg duz to say im well an the childeren tu. Jim mudley shot a painter.* it bit him fust an he dide aftur. emery Ginnison is in jale fur shutin "Shuttin'?" queried Lugwine, "why, a man can't be put in jail for shuttin' anything." 66 Hooray!" exclaimed Lugwine; "shot tinued Lugwine, suddenly calming himself, a deppity sheriff! Mebbe, though," con as he noticed a peculiar look on Brown's face, "mebbe you've been a deppity sheriff?" "Never!" exclaimed Brown, earnestly, and continued: "Nance Biurd is run away weth Sy Green. i wish you wuz home tante the sam plase wethout you. i hope god ell bring you bak safe. im a— "Got stuck?" asked Lugwine. "Mriar Trugg ain't over-handy at writin', I s'pose." "I guess I can make it out," said Brown. "I'm as ever, your loving wife.' That's all." the letter, looking it over with some curios"Much obliged," said Lugwine, taking ity, and then folding it awkwardly and put • Panther. ONE of the evils that challenge the attention of observing and benevolent people in every village, is the condition of the poor children. It is somewhat remarkable, but it is true that the problem of their treatment, education and reform, is more easily solved in the city than in the village. And yet to city and to village it is equally important, and the solution equally an effort of religious and humane duty. These ragged, vagrant, hungry, untrained children, will inevitably be the criminals of their communities; they will hereafter prey upon property, threaten personal safety and life, tempt the children of the virtuous, by their crimes and diseases poison their neighborhood, and if female children, become like 'Margaret, mother of criminals," the ancestors of a line of paupers, thieves, prostitutes and murderers. Society has neglected them, and they will recompense society tenfold in offences and crimes. 46 Moreover, these children of poverty are the "little ones of Christ, and heirs of immortal life. The Christian is bound to forget his own personal comfort and to seek to bring them under the light of his Master's truth. How shall he do it? We will sketch some of the modes found serviceable in the cities, beginning with The Industrial School. A poor district is selected, where there is much over crowding, and much consequent poverty, misery and crime. Some ladies of influence in other quarters, are induced to associate themselves together, with two or three of them as officials, to form an "Industrial School Association." Then a plain room with a basement or other room for kitchen and dining-room is chosen, furnished with school desks and table, and an agent sent out to pick up the children. One teacher, a missionary, and, if possible, a good "object teacher, " is employed steadily, while the ladies assist, according to their convenience. At the appointed hour, a crowd of ragged, dirty, impudent little girls and noisy boys, gather at the door of the school-room, having heard of "free soup" and garments given out. They assail the teacher with slang words, they fly over the benches, and now and then a missile goes through the windows. The teacher, if an expert in these matters, maintains an unruffled calm. Soon she has flattered a big boy, and secured his assistance; one she shakes, and another she coaxes; at length, order is secured, and the first duty is performed, of registering names. Now, first of all, cleanliness is to be obtained. The boys are sent to wash hands and face, and comb or cut their hair, under some one who can oversee; the girls are despatched afterwards to the wash-room for a similar purpose. Larkspur and carbolic soap are freely applied. The girls are put soon at plain sewing on material for their under-clothes, and here the assistance of ladies is indispensable. A skillful object lesson on animals, enchains the boys, and then they are led to the first lessons with "sounds" (instead of letters), and the first counting of beans or objects. If they can read, the teacher gives them interesting chapters in the reading-book, or sets them at their first writing. A plate of soup at recess is something which they all appreciate, and they are made aware that they can earn shoes and garments by good conduct, and industry. In the afternoon, they are put at some industrial branch, like box-making, printing, or even sewing. If they are obliged to go from school at an |