ican missionaries in promoting the
progress of the Chinese people. They have borne the light of
Western civilization into every nook and corner of the
empire. They have rendered inestimable service to China by
the laborious task of translating instructive books into the
Chinese language.

Truly, after listening that evening to these representatives of cultured
China, the hearers could share the feeling of John W. Foster, the
toastmaster on this occasion. Mr. Foster, one of the ablest of American
diplomats, said:

When I meet a Chinese gentleman I have the impulse to stand
uncovered in his presence and to make a profound bow, out of
respect to his great empire and race, antedating in their
existence and civilization all others of which we have any
record, with achievements unsurpassed in literature, in
philosophy, in art, and in useful inventions.

Love-Letters of the Great.

Passion, Tenderness, Sweetness, Reverence, All the Deep Tones of Love,
Make Beautiful the Letters Written by Various
Great Men to Their Wives.

Men of genius and power--kings, commanders, poets, painters--belong not to
themselves, but to the world. Greatness destroys privacy; and many a
person of note has lived to see described in print the most minute of his
little, unsuspected peculiarities. This invasion of the right to be let
alone is inevitable. Even love-letters do not escape.

It is only a few years since the love-letters of the Brownings--Elizabeth
Barrett and Robert--were given to the world. As models in the expression
of deep and tender affection it will be long before they are displaced.
Yet specimens of the love-letters of other eminent men and women are full
of tenderness, passion, reverence.

QUEEN VICTORIA'S ROMANCE.

Prince Albert, the husband of Queen Victoria, having occasion to make a
trip to Europe, wrote to the queen:

MY OWN DARLING: We got over our journey thus far rapidly and
well, but the tide was so unmannerly as to be an hour later
than the time calculated, so that I cannot sail before
three. I have been an hour here, and regret the lost time
which I might have spent with you. Poor child! you will,
while I write, be getting ready for luncheon, and will find
the place vacant where I sat yesterday. In your heart,
however, I hope my place will not be vacant.

I at least have you on board with me in spirit. Try to