eing
to a condition of inanimate protoplasm, is to be regretted for his sake;
but more for that of a country in which the philosophy of COMTE finds in
a corrupt radical pantarchy all-sufficient first-cause of whatsoever is
rotten in the State of Denmark." The Times said: "We give no details of
the Burnstableville tragedy to-day, not being willing to pander to a
vitiated public taste; but shall do so to-morrow."

After reading these articles in the Great Dailies with considerable
distraction, and inferring therefrom, that at least three different
young Southerners had killed three different young Northerners in three
different places on Christmas-Eve, Judge SWEENEY had a rush of blood to
the brain, and discharged MONTGOMERY PENDRAGON as a person of
undistinguishable identity. But, when set at large, the helpless youth
could not turn a corner without meeting some bald-headed reporter who
raised the cry of "Stop thief!" if he sought to fly, and, if he paused,
interviewed him in a magisterial manner, and almost tearfully implored
him to Confess his crime in time for the Next Edition.

Father DEAN, Ritual Rector of St. Cow's, meeting Gospeler SIMPSON upon
one of their daily strolls through the snow, said to him:

"This young man, your pupil, has sinned, it appears, and a Ritualistic
church, Mr. Gospeler, is no sanctuary for sinners."

"I cannot believe that the sin is his, Holy Father," answered the
Reverend OCTAVIUS, respectfully: "but, even if it is, and he is
remorseful for it, should not our Church cover him with her wings?"

"There are no wings to St. Cow's yet," returned the Father,
coldly,--"only the main building; and that is too small to harbor any
sinner who has not sufficient means to build a wing or two for himself."

"Then," said the Gospeler, bowing his head and speaking slowly, "I
suppose he must go to the Other Church."

"What Other church?"

The Gospeler raised his hat and spoke reverently:--

That which is all of God's world outside this little church of ours.
That in which the Altar is any humble spot pressed by the knees of the
Unfortunate. That in which the priest is whoso doeth a good, unselfish
deed, even if in the shadow of the scaffold. That in which the anthem of
visible charity for an erring brother sinks into the listening soul an
echo of an unseen Father's pity and forgiveness, and the choral service
is the music of kind words to all who ever found but unkind words
before."

"You must