yet astir; but in one house, marble-fronted and spacious, looming high above all the rest, there was life and bustle, and cheerful hearth-fires cast a ruddy glow over soft carpets and costly mirrors and rare works of art. Surely, all was happiness there! Not much. Back in the dining-room the early breakfast stood untasted on the table. The housewife sat in a rocking-chair, an expression of unutterable scorn on her face. The husband raced about the room, upsetting the furniture, tearing his hair, and acting for all the world like a candidate for a lunatic asylum. The youthful son and heir lay flat on the floor, playing a wild tattoo with his heels, and yelling like a double-barreled Comanche. Poor little Johnny! He wanted a Christmas-tree. But no Christmas-tree will grace the Smitherton mansion this year. The old man staked his pile on Hancock.

Rules for New-Year Callers.-I. Hire a hall. If you can't afford that, hire a hack.

2. Order some cards representing a chubby youngster kicking a bald-headed man with a lawn-mower off the end of a globe. This design was invented by Adam; but yon

needn't care Adam for that.

3. Borrow a plug hat and a white tie, and trot out your lavender trousers. If you haven't any lavender trousers, you needn't mind putting them on.

4. Select a friend to accompany you. In making the selection, care should be taken to choose him for his staying qualities. A sort of portable lamp-post will best serve your purpose.

5. Start out early, and call on your best girl first. Don't, for Heaven's sake, and your own, leave it until the last. Chocolate and pound-cake.

6. In making the next call, bounce into the parlor, throw your ulster over a chair, put your hat on the mantel, take the girl by the hand, shake well before using, and then say "Happy New Year" three times. The expression is original and highly poetic, and is sure to be appreciated. Black coffee. 7. If the girl at the next house has red hair and freckles, leave your friend entertain her, and devote your energies to the refreshments and the old lady, especially the former. Hard cider and ginger-snaps.

8. When you call on the fourth girl, take the dog on your lap, and make it bark to attract attention to your trousers. When she asks you to "take something," protest vehem. ently, tell her you belong to the Y.M.C.A., that you made a solemn vow that day to stop short at cider, and then yield gracefully, quoting the lines about "lovely woman," etc., and take a darn good swig. Rhine wine.

9. If the next girl lives in a brown-stone house, clean your shoes on the scraper. Should the steps be of marble, fresco them with snow and street-mud, so that she may remember you in her prayers when she scrubs them next day-the steps, not the prayers. Talk about the weather. Sherry.

10. Don't be too fresh with No. 6. She has a neat waist, but you had better hug the piano-stool. It would be safer. Talk some more about the weather. Hot whisky-punch.

11. No, young man ! there's nothing the matter with the bricks. The pavement is steady enough. Now the wisdom of our fourth rule comes in. Lean on your friend and get into the carriage. House No. 7. Don't sit down on the

You must be Your voice is

floor. The chair's on the other side of you. seeing double. Talk about nothing at all. apt to be unsteady, and your words will slide into another in a frightful way. Blue-grass whisky.

12. If her imp of a brother laughs at you as you walk down the steps, and advises you to "take that brick out of your hat," straighten up like a man, and try to look dignified. It's well to try, anyhow. Don't attempt to kiss the next girl's mother; kissing goes by favor, and she favors the old man. Beware of the centre-table. Walk round it three times; then steer for the sofa. Triple extract of Bourbon.

Ancient Order of the Sons and Daughters of Moses. -Brudder Balaam's New-Year's sermon.

The members of the Ancient Order of the Sons and Daughters of Moses met in solemn conclave this week to celebrate the first anniversary of its founding. The A.O.S. D.M. was organized a year ago by a number of ladies and gentlemen representing the crême de la crême (chocolate) of Koshtown society. The necessity for such an organization had been acknowledged on all sides, and accordingly, when Balaam Johnson, Esq., H.C., issued an address to his friends, calling upon them to meet at the Nebuchadnezzar Church of the Colored Prophets, there was a hearty response, more than three hundred "cull'd folks" assembling in the chapel. After much weighty discussion, the A.O.S.D.M. was then and there organized, with three hundred members, Brudder Balaam being unanimously chosen Grand Keeper of the Sacred Hod. This was a delicate compliment to his well-known professional skill, Brudder Balaam being (though he always declared that he was "in de real-'state bizness, sah!"), in the language of the worldly, a plain, unmitigated, two-by-nine hod-carrier. But genius sometimes walks in rags, and though Brudder Balaam toiled in rain and shine for a dollar a day, he gave his nights to thought and the composition of certain sacred discourses for the edification of the A.O.S.D.M., which are now given to the world.

Where Brudder Balaam-he was known far and near by that title-came from was a mystery, and remains a mystery to this day. Whether he hailed from the land of roast missionary or from the moon, or whether he was a Harvard graduate in disguise, no one could tell. He was young, gifted, and beautiful—as a what-is-it; but no one knew anything about him. He came to Koshtown many years ago, with a smile on his face and a banjo on his back, rented a little cabin at the top of the hill, and has remained there ever since. As he could dance a breakdown, rattle "de bones," sing a hymn, play "de banjy," "raise" a hencoop, and clean out a " watermillion"-patch better than any other nigger in the county, he at once took the lead in society; but after he turned preacher he forswore such amusements (though his enemies denied it), gave his flowered vest to a

What was done at the anniversary of the A.O.S.D.M. will never be known to the world; but after certain mysterious forms and ceremonies, Brudder Balaam arose from his seat, ascended the platform, and announced, amid a perfect storm of applause, that he would preach his " fust New-Yeah's sarmon." When quiet had been restored, the Grand Keeper of the Sacred Hod cleared his throat, arranged his "pickum. dilly," and delivered himself as follows:

"De wind am a screechin' an' howlin' frew de tree-tops. De snow-bird am a hoppin' o'er de ground. De water-pipes am freezin', an' de plumber am dancin' a wild mazerker. My bruddern, de end ob de yeah am heah. De Lawd gib us mighty little warnin'. Gabriel blowed de hornpipe, an' lo an' behol'! it am heah. De seasuns hab cum an' gone, like de cullah on a two-dollah coat. De lamb an' de spring chicken am no mo'. Watermillions am a dream ob de parst. De organ-grindah hez gone wid de swallers whar de cottontree blows. De tramp am deported from de landscape. De neck-tie man hez packed up his yaller lady-killahs, sole his julery case, an' done gone into de ches'nut-roastin' bizness. De red-nosed fishahmin who cou'dn't cotch a blin' mack'rel am widout a occipashun. De boy dat fooled wid a Fourferjuly canyon am about patched up. De fan an' de sun-umbrelly am no mo' use dan a club in fly-time. Straw hats hab been called in. De muskeeter hez stowed away his banjy till de summer cums. De blue-nosed fly am a hidin' away in de cracks, winkin' at de fiah, an' de ballheaded man am snoozin' unpertected in de arm-cheer. De seasun ob camp-meetin's am ober; no mo' hidin' unner de benches; no mo' wax in de preecher's cheer-yo' heah me, yo' boys up dar in de gall'ry? De craps am all in,- we hab shucked de coahn an' groun' de buckwheat. We hab slewed de hog an' salted down de poke. De old ulstah hez been shook up fur anudder yeah. De holey glubs an' de antiquoted hat am on de top agin. Yes, sah! De hollerin' days am ober. We done gobbled up de Tanksgibbin' tu'key an' dewoured de Krissmus pie. We done had de plumpuddin' an' de belly-ache. We hab enj'yed de cidah an' de gripes.

"An' now, my bruddern, 'pears to me et's mighty nigh time to riz up an' look aroun'. Kase why? Kase de end ob de yeah am heah. Unly a few mo' days, an' de Lawd 'll be puttin' dat little figuh 1-1881-top o' yoh grocumry-bill. Am yo' gwine to pay it? Am yo' gwine to liquefy dat bill, or am yo' gwine to sneak out de back doah by tellin' de ole man to wait till nex' Krismuss? Did yo' pay yoh bills dis yeah? Hab yo' shelled out fo' yoh coahn an' 'taters an' 'lasses an' hominy an' oats? Hab yo' cum down wid de shinplasters fo' yoh bandanners an' plug-hats an' swallertail coats? Chalkitdown Jones,-yo' dar in de cornah wid yoh arm 'roun' yoh gal,-did yo' pay fur dat yaller tie? Dat am de queschun! 'Foh de Lawd, I doan b'liebe yo' did. Down on yoh knees, bruddern! Down on yoh knees, sisterin! an' pray to de Lawd dat ebbery man dat hobbled frew de yeah on trust 'll cum to de front an' pay up,-or git de gran' bounce when he arsks fo' mo' credit! Hallelu!

"Now dat de fust ob de yeah am nigh, an' de snow an' de lan'lawd am a cumin', it am a good time,-a werry good

fink. Wat hab yo' did dis yeah? Ho'miny lies did yo' tell? Ho'miny times did yo' go to chu'ch? Ho'miny times did yo' play de banjy Sund'ys? Ho'miny watermillions did yo' carry off o' 'Square Jones's patch? Ho'miny chickens did yo' steal? An' ho'miny o' dem did yo' gib de preecher? Mighty few, bruddern, mighty few, I kin tell yo' dat! Stealin' chickens am worse 'n swarin', an' it ain't a gwine to boost yo' frew de gates ob heaben,-onless yo' gibs de spiles to yoh preecher!

"Mos' ob yo', I'll be boun', did ebberyfing dat wuz bad. Et's no use d'n'yin' it, fur I know 't myseff. De debbil offen had yo' by de coat-tails, pullin' yo' down to hell. Sum o' yo' war nigh harf way down, an' I helped to hist yo' up, an' got my fingahs scoached moh'n once.

"Now, my bruddern, less turn ober a new leaf, - de Bible-leaf. De new yeah am cumin', an' de little angel dat takes de senses am waitin' to see how menny good niggers dere air. Stop lyin' an' swarin'. Doan play de banjy on de Sabbat'. 'Tend chu'ch reg'ler. Stop kissin' de gals. Keep out de watermillion-patch. Let de chickens 'lone. Pay off yoh debts. Doan run up bills. Ef yo' want to dance, allus pay de piper. Doan put dart in de whitewash. Shake de carpets clean, an' doan wash down de dust wid too much kill-me-quick. Swar off, bruddern, swar off! Yo' young darkeys, doan yo' go out callin' New Yeah's. Stay at hum an' read de Bible. De gals can do widout yo', an' yoh heads woan feel like bushel-barskets nex' mo'nin'! An' yo' dar in de back seat, wid de frilled shart an' de wart on yoh nose, ef yo' doan cum down wid dat pew-rent fo' nex' Sund'y, I'll 'spose yo' fo' de hull meetin'! Yo' heah me? Amen! We will now parse de hat."

Seasonable Reflections.-Nothing is so exasperating to a man with a cold in his head as the sight of his wife bending over a fragrant hyacinth.

If you want to come out at the big end of the horn this year, you must start in with something more than a lopsided diary and a three-cent pencil.

We've had our Thanksgiving turkey, and it didn't agree with us. But we mean to try it over again this week if it takes our last cent for blue pills and stomach-bitters. Its a very good thing at this time of the year to swear off; but the man who indulges in seven cocktails and a “ cobbler" to celebrate the event and give him strength to carry out his resolution is a trifle too enthusiastic to hold out long.

If you are weighed down with an overpowering sense of fullness and too much dinner, you had better give the seductive pie a wide berth. It requires great tact, profound judgment, and a copper-lined stomach to keep a mince-pie from rearing up on its hind legs and starting out on the war-path against seven-eighths of a pound of turkey, plenty of "stuffin'," five sweet potatoes, seven pickles, three feet of celery, a quart of cranberries, and a liberal allowance of cider.

In the short space of two months, just twelve hundred and sixty-three and a half (1263.5) Bernhardt jokes have been fired upon a suffering public, and yet not one of them contained even the remotest allusion to the fact that Sarah is about the size and shape of a telegraph pole. It is strange that this important point should have been overlooked.

6

"Thank you, sir," said I, walking in the way his hand waved. "Here we are, 'Em'; this is the 'P. V.,' silver mounting and velvet finish; no life among the lowly in this home on wheels. We'll have nothing to do for a week but eat, sleep, and be merry! Who'd be a prince when he could just as well be an alderman ?"

"Pass along the aisle, please," said the porter. "Section eight, lower berth; there you are, Dolly VOL. XVI.-7

Then the keen young man of color turned again to the door to be ready to continue his kindness toward any new group of excursionists. He wore his easy smile as a part of his uniform. And he observed to himself, "How very young men hold office and manage cities in this new country west of the Missouri ! But, then, everybody seems to be young out here; old folks mostly stay back East. I"

Ah! Stopping short, down the steps he reaches, and graciously gathers in another pair of grip-sacks,

a plethoric shawl-strap, etc., and is followed by the mayor of Omaha (a bright lawyer of only twenty-four years) and his young bride.

Back and forth thus, like a shuttle, runs the attentive porter, till the "Platte Valley" is comfortably crowded with amateur office-holders and the ladies and children whom they know best.

"Good-bye! good-bye!" "Don't let the baby fall off the porch, Kate!" "Don't forget to feed Towser, Tom!"' "Be good, Jimmy, while pa is

dignity of power. Sight yields to sound. Bolt- heads, heads out of windows, and the head of the train vanish as we round a curve and dash into a cut. Smoke floats over the train, and the dry dust of earth rolls from underneath to shake his soiled garments in the faces of the few who will stand on the rear platform. Out thus from the city that is set on a hill into the prairie wide and wild! This event became historical in the summer of 1868. Then everybody who could gain a "complimentary" over the roads just rushed through towards the Missouri River, and over that great novelty, the Union Pacific Railway, was deeply interested in seeing how far the latter had wandered into the Rocky Mountains.

gone, and he'll bring you something funny from the mountains!"

A score or two of these farewells and short orders for good behavior jump out at the open car windows as the conductor makes "All aboard!" his good-bye.

Now the iron horse yawns, stretches, shakes himself like a big, strong boy, who, when first spoken to, is slow. The drive-wheels sluggishly lift their down-edges up; the car-couplings tighten. "Puff! Puff! Puff!" Faster, faster, faster! Harder, harder, harder, the monster plants his iron hoofs along the iron pavement. Now the ups and downs of the wheels chase each other swiftly till their spokes and felloes melt into shadow, and their hum and rattle rise to the

When, therefore, one hundred Chicago officials (including families) had thus reached Omaha, and had added the "freedom" of that city to their free passage, they felt free to augment their company for the Union Pacific jaunt in palace cars by a dozen officials

of "Young Chicago," as Omaha then took childish pride in rechristening herself. And it was to be of this party that we had for a week left with a neighbor the key to our little hillside cottage.

At that time the track of the "U. P.," as hurried people abbreviate the name, was laid westward through Nebraska and half-way across Wyoming, to the North Fork of the Platte River, a distance of about seven hundred and fifty miles. By a horseshoe loop of twenty miles the track escapes from the ten miles of hills rolling back from the Missouri, and thence glides five hundred miles without a hill up the Platte Valley, which had given its good name to our sleeper.

That was fine riding, save its monotonous scenery. Beyond its initial hundred miles, at

that date, almost the only inhabitants were wild ones. Buffaloes fed within full view from the cars; antelopes ambled within pistol-shot, and many fruitless shots were fired at them from the moving train; the prairie-dogs had established many "villages" in the valley, but had nowhere erected a depot and eating-house for human travelers. Every few miles there were groups of dilapidated kennels built of sods, and in size and shape about like the old-fashioned Dutch ovens. In these the men who had graded the road-bed

for a long look ahead were Mr. Gray and his son Ned, a boy of twelve years. To the west the track seemed to jump off from somewhere into nowhere, so rapidly did it sink out of sight, not to resume the normal level of a well-behaved railroad till it touched the broad Laramie Plains far in the distance.

First astonishment over, "There, Ned," said Mr. Gray, "with snow smooth and wind aft, as the sailors say, I think you might slide down-hill for twenty-five miles or so."

and laid down the track had slept at night. West from Cheyenne, Indians often "rose red on our vision," and the character of the riding was chiefly up and down, twist and turn, on a rail. But these twelve years have given the track an easier inclination and a firmer ballast.

The "pass" through which the road crosses the range of mountains in Southeastern Wyoming is, after all, a very serious elevation, being nearly nine thousand feet above the sea, or about eighteen times the elevation of Chicago. On the summit stands Sherman, a station so named to remind travelers of our army general. To approach it from either side is up-hill work.

There our pleasure-train halted to take breath and feed the faithful horse. Among those who then stepped out and climbed up a side eminence

"Whew!" replied Ned, "shouldn't I hate to draw the hand-sled back, though! Have to take a feather-bed along on such coasting, and stay over night somewhere."

"Ding-dong" went the engine-bell, and down the slope of the cut we slid through a mass of square gravel, seemingly old boulders cut by Nature into angular bits about the size of dice; but there was nothing one could call soil: it was rock hash.

Then we were to have a touch of running the land rapids. The train entered that abrupt downgrade on express-passenger time. The platforms were packed, and every open window became a portrait-frame to witness the down-hill dash of steam against time. Crowds, especially on excursions, are seldom conscious of danger; union,