a man suddenly entered the room, and cried out in a low
voice,

"It's all humbug! We've discovered the cause of the motion! Come and
see!"

All rushed out after the man, and entered the room over the door of
which was written so conspicuously "No admittance." No, not
all--Redding passed on down stairs, and was never again heard of!

The scene that followed we need not describe. The poor laborer at the
wheel, for a dollar a day, had like to have been broken on his wheel,
but the crowd in mercy spared him. As for poor Wiseacre, who had never
been humbugged in his life, he was so completely "used up" by this
undreamed of result, that he could hardly look any body in the face
for two or three months. But he got over it some time since, and is
now a more thorough disbeliever in all new things than before.

"You don't humbug me!" is his stereotyped answer to all announcements
of new discoveries. Even in regard to the magnetic telegraph he is
still quite skeptical, and shrugs his shoulders, and elevates his
eyebrows, as much as to say, "It'll blow up one of these times, mark
my word for it." Nobody has yet been able to persuade him to go to the
Exchange and look at the operation of the batteries there and see for
himself. He doesn't really believe in the thing, and smiles inwardly,
as the rough poles and naked wires stare him in the face while passing
along the street. He looks confidently to see them converted into
poles for scaffolding before twelve months pass away.

THE SISTERS.

BY G. G. FOSTER.

[SEE ENGRAVING.]

Nay, look not forth with those deep earnest eyes
To catch the gleaming of your lovers' plumes;
A dearer, surer, trustier passion lies
In sisters' hearts than lovers' cheeks illumes.
Man worships and forsakes; and as he flies
From flower to flower their beauty he consumes;
Then leaves the wasted heart and faded flower
To die forgotten in their sunless bower.

But sisters' love, like angels' sympathies,
Is as the breath of Heaven and cannot change
No earthly shudder taints its sinless kiss.
No sorrow can your loving hearts estrange;
No selfish pride destroy the priceless bliss
Of loving and confiding. Oh exchange
Not love like this, so heavenly and so true.
For all the vows that lovers' lips e'er knew

[Illustration: W. Drummond. A.C. Thompson
THE SISTERS
Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine.]

BRU