A large "praya," however, is never exhausted of its eggs; this is proved by passing canoes in November, just before the rising of the waters, finding hundreds of young recently hatched turtles crawling down to the water. the oil commences. The eggs are thrown into an inverted canoe and mashed with wooden prongs. Sometimes this process is not thought quick enough, and naked children jump in and crush the dirty mass with their feet, making a The excavation finished, the preparation of pretty figure of themselves with the yolk be bank "praya real," or royal praya-about a fortnight. The place resembles a rude village wake or fair. Lines of tents and encampments, with all the paraphernalia of a household, stretch along the banks of the river for a long distance, and canoes of all descriptions, from the light open skiff of the fisherman to the schooner of the down-river trader, are anchored or moored near the shore. At night the glimmering fires light up the great solitude of river and forest, and laughter and the tinkling of violas are heard as accompaniment to the hoarse snort of caymen and other aquatic monsters, or the deep "hough" of the jaguar in the neighboring woods. The poorer classes sell their oil at once to the traders, and many spend the proceeds in jollification before the fortnight is over. The period of the deposit of turtles' eggs varies according to the season; for the seasons vary in the tropics almost as much as they do in our own uncertain climate. Nominally, the period of lowest water is reached about the end of September; and although there is a spell of rain and rising water in November, the sandbanks are not laid under water again before March. Sometimes, however, the dry season is a failure; frequent rains fall, and the river reaches a low point only in October, to rise again in half flood in November. If the turtles did not choose the highest parts of the highest banks to deposit, they would probably become almost extinct in a few generations, from natural causes. This habit, however, entails the great inconvenience of a long journey from the water to reach the place of their deposit, a journey evidently painful to such heavy aquatic creatures, with clumsy, short, webbed feet. Four hundred miles higher up the river, the dry season falls a full fortnight earlier than in the neighborhood of Ega and Coary, and the turtles deposit their eggs accordingly. The eggs laid about the end of September are hatched between the middle or end of November, those lying deepest in the holes being of course the latest. Immediately the young turtle, born with its breast and back plates of tolerable solidity, escapes from the egg, it bites its way through the superincumbent sand, and makes its way straight for the water. Many hundreds are devoured before they reach it by vultures and after they are in the water by alligators. Nevertheless, sufficient escape to keep up an enormous population of turtles in these waters. It is calculated, from the number of eggs annually collected for the manufacture of oil, that the progeny of at least 400,000 turtles is destroyed by this means alone. VOL. XXXI.-14* "GO FORWARD." "Speak to the children of Israel that they go forward." Go forward! in obedience go, Nor question why nor how; Go forward! 't is Jehovah's voice- To make thee hasten and rejoice, Go forward! hinder not his love From working good through thee; He sees and judges far above What human love can see. Go forward! though the sea rolls deep His is the power, and he will keep Go forward! lo, the waves shall part And all the faintings of thy heart THE FLEETING GUEST. YOUTH dwells in Eden lands, in bowers elysian, The zephyrs in his path strew fragrant roses, All nature smiles, the earth is wondrous fair, And a gay bird from morn till twilight closes, Pours forth its carol on the balmy air. List while ye may; for siren tones are calling The beauteous guest away o'er land and stream; Ah, might he stay, eye, ear, and heart inthralling! That bird so sweet-voiced is our youthful dream. Alas, alas, with heavy, drooping pinion We woo in vain, from Fancy's far dominion, The transient guest, flitting from zone to zone. Yet why so sad? To other ears he 's singing, Than dreams that flit like morning mists away. The true, the good are thine thy whole life long! SHORT CHAPTER ON HANDS. EAUTIFUL hands! They have a magic of their own! How prized by those who possess them, how coveted by those who do not! The poets love them, and sound melodious praises to soft, shapely palms and rosy finger-tips. The world-whom we know the poets lead-the world praises them, too, and hence the painstaking among all who would be admired to render and preserve this prominent organ fair to the sight and pleasing to the touch. We, too, love beautiful hands; we are with the poets there. But here we admit that our taste in this matter is somewhat peculiar, being founded on that old proverb, "Handsome is that handsome does." Show me a hand that challenges my admiration. Granted, if you will, that it be small, and smooth, and dimpled, its ivory whiteness set off by twinkling gems. Let it understand full well the poetry of motion and the witchery of touch, whether the fingers be dancing airily to their own sweet music on piano or guitar, or waving with dreamy languor their jewel-spangled fan, or holding with masterful grace the reins of a prancing steed; but, before I pronounce it a beautiful hand, let me see it, not in the crowded drawing-room only, or, faultlessly gloved, on the gay promenade. Let me follow it through all its home ministries, and learn the works in which its fair owner employeth it when the worid is not there to see. Is it never bathed in the May-dew at the dawn, clasping instead the airy nothings of dream-land? In the arcana of the toilet does it sometimes lace the silken bodice or the dainty shoe over the marks of negligence and haste? Is it rarely applied in relieving the cares of the burdened house-maids? Do the young brothers and sisters sometimes feel its angry impress upon their tingling cheeks? Does it never rest, laden with benefactions, on the door-latch of the sorrowing poor? Does it know how to point its Pharisaical fore finger at the soiled forehead of an erring sister woman? In a word, with all its marvelous grace and culture, does it pass on from day to day, unthoughtful and unskilled in waking from the harp of life those thousand nameless harmonies that make woman a sacred word, and home the heart's own heaven? If so, then, that hand is a failure. Selfishness is branded in fiery letters upon its vestal surface, deformity lurks beneath its patrician outline. Let it pass from my sight, and show me rather the uncouth palm of some lowly daughter of the people, toiling day by day in the homely service which love exalteth, for the dear sake of parents, or husband, or children, with now and then a kindly turn for the yet poorer poor, and I will press such a hand reverently as that of one who holdeth queenly rank in the realm of true womanhood. Thus much for my ideal on this point. Is it not also thine? But there is many a hand sacred and dear to me from some special or personal association, as, for instance, the hands of my few spiritkin, leal and tried, which I grasp after a long absence; the hand of a child-friend, laid in mine with the faith that belongs alone to life's halcyon morning; or the brave, maimed hand of a soldier of our Republic, his badge of the legion of honor, won in the battle-ranks of freedom, where right contended against gigantic wrong; and O, there is a beauty that floods my eyes with sad and yearning tears when I see a father's hand laid softly on a daughter's shoulder. But am I wandering? It may be so, for there are by-paths in memory which lure my thoughts full oft into their funereal shades. I will return. Dear sisters, wherewithal shall we render our hands fair and comely in the high ideal sense? Let us shield them well from the defiling contact of heartless deeds. Let us bathe them each day in the "balm of a thousand flowers" of odorous kind offices. Let them be plentifully adorned with those diamond drops that fall from the eyes of soothed sorrow. Above all, let them often be clasped in contrite prayer to the Infinite. So shall they be dignified with a beauty which age can not shrivel or labor mar. True, they may not gleam and dazzle like hers who queens it in marble halls, but the Hand that was pierced shall grasp them in a brother's greeting, and count them worthy to gather amaranths in the morning of the resurrection. THE BROKEN COLUMN. A SKETCH FROM REAL LIFE. CHAPTER III. EXT morning the truth of the report regarding the loss of the two young Englishmen was placed beyond doubt by the recovery of their bodies. For several days afterward little else was spoken of but the sad catastrophe, and the impression made by their untimely fate throughout the community seemed at once deep and universal. The despairing grief of young Howard's betrothed was much descanted on, together with the deep sorrow of those who had worked under him at the railway, and by whom he was much loved and respected. Then the deepest sympathy was expressed for his widowed mother, who, on hearing of her sad bereavement, had come to take a last look and shed tears of unavailing sorrow over the cold remains of her last surviving child. Of his cousin comparatively little was spoken, for his parents were in India, and, as a recent visitor, he was, of course, less known in the place. But doubtless he was equally dear to his own family, and tears as bitter would be drawn forth when the tidings of his fate should reach them in that distant land; and, in token of the regard in which he was held by his shipmates, some of them came from Portsmouth, where his vessel then lay, to pay the last duties to his remains. Poor Howard was carried shoulder-high by his workmen to the grave, in that very cemetery where I had so recently met him for the first and last time, and "great lamentation was made over him." His cousin was buried by his side. I shall never forget an eloquent and touching sermon by which the pastor of my own Church sought to impress upon his young hearers a solemn lesson drawn from the sad event which had excited so much interest in and cast such a gloom over the community. As a good and faithful man, ever anxious for the spiritual instruction of his hearers, zealous in the discharge of his duty, and unwearied in his efforts to advance the cause of his Heavenly Master, he never allowed an opportunity by which he might hope to impress saving truth to pass unnoticed. He selected for his text those words from Hosea xi, 4-“I drew them with cords of a man, with bands of love"-and from them he delivered a discourse which, judging by my own feelings, I am sure must have thrilled the hearts of his audience, particularly the young among it. He spoke of the various means by which our merciful and gracious God, instead of driving us away by terror, seeks to draw us to himself "by bands of love." In illustration of this he dwelt on the blessings of redemption as offered to us in his holy Word through the merits and mediation of Christ the Savior, on the bounties of his providence, giving us all the temporal blessings we enjoy, "rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and gladness," and many other tokens of mercy and loving-kindness too numerous to mention here. "And not only so," he continued, "but even in what we look upon as the sad, often the mysterious events of his providence, does he not evince his love and tender mercy toward us by overruling these as warnings to arrest some in a career of sin and folly, making them pause to consider, and awakening others from spirit ual deadness from the dread of similar calamities befalling them, often when they are least prepared?" He then, in the most solemn and touching strain, alluded to the sad catastrophe by which two young and promising men, in the midst of life and usefulness, had in a moment, "in the twinkling of an eye," been summoned from this scene of time and sense, and called to meet their Judge. After describing the scene and manner of their death, the calm repose of the mirror-like Summer sea, the quiet enjoyment of their pursuit, the probable absence from their minds of any apprehension of danger, the sudden capsizing, by which, in an instant, they had been hurried into eternity, and the deep sensation caused by their fate through the whole of a large community, he added: "To the careless, the dissolute, and profane among my hearers, what an awful lesson does this read! Think not that the fate which befell those young men is unlikely ever to be yours. In the midst of your noisiest mirth, your most unthinking, perhaps unhallowed revelry, in a moment 'the handwriting on the wall may be seen,' and the bolt of vengeance from a justly offended God may descend in any form upon you. Repent, then, without delay, and 'flee to the stronghold as prisoners of hope.' 'Escape for your lives, lest ye be consumed.' Take refuge in the only surety, the peace-speaking blood of the all-atoning sacrifice. To all, whether young or old, careless or serious, this sad catastrophe, dark and mysterious as it now appears, may be fraught with momentous issues. In that awful moment when sudden destruction came upon them no rope was thrown to these hapless strangers, no effort of any kind was made by the instruments of their fate for their delivery. But in the infinite mercy of God their untimely fate, if the deep impression it has doubtless made upon your minds be rightly improved and followed up by true repentance, may prove as 'bands of love,' drawing you upward and onward to himself, and to that eternal inheritance which he hath laid up for all who, by 'patient continuance in well-doing, seek for glory, honor, and immortality.'" As I said, the impression made by this solemn address was one not likely to be forgotten, and the accessories of its delivery were in themselves sufficiently striking. Toward its close the shades of twilight had begun to gather around the venerable Gothic church where we were assembled, and a breathless silence, broken only by the earnest, pleading voice of the preacher, reigned throughout the "long-drawn aisles" and among the vast audi- engraved on it, recording the names and ages ence in the crowded pews, and in the "dim religious light" stealing in through the stained windows, and amid the shadows of the massive pillars, might be seen many a young head bowed down in sorrow and humility; and doubtless many a tear was shed, and even sobs suppressed, as the venerable white-haired pastor uttered those solemn words of warning and of encouragement. Scarce one of the young hearers of that discourse is now to be found in the place where it was delivered. Some have died at home, some survive in distant lands, some have fallen in battle or by pestilence, and others have perished in the ocean, and now "Their graves are scattered far and wide, but the impression produced by that heart-stirring address the Day alone shall declare. A few weeks afterward, in the dim twilight of a somber evening in September, I accompanied my nephew, at his request, to the cemetery, where he informed me a monument had been erected by his companions in business as a grateful tribute of respect to the memory of young Howard, and to that of his cousin, who shared his last resting-place. The sear leaves of Autumn rustled under my feet, and the place seemed to wear an aspect of deepest sadness, very different from that which it presented on that memorable Summer evening when I first met Howard as I approached the spot where he now lay buried. It was situated on the slope of the hill, lying southward, and within the precincts of that "consecrated ground" set apart for the members of the Episcopal communion. So much had other more absorbing interests connected with his sudden removal from this scene of things effaced from my mind all recollection of his remarks on the kind of device he had expressed his preference for on the occasion of our brief meeting, that I had formed no idea regarding the style of his monument; but at once a vivid recollection of his choice returned to it when I beheld "a broken column" actually rising above the place where his remains had been interred. I afterward learned that his betrothed, out of respect to his desire, little anticipating, when it was uttered, how soon she would be called upon to fulfill it, had asked to be allowed to choose this design, urging his request as a reason for hers. It was said, also, that she sent a handsome subscription along with it, but this had been respectfully declined, as they wished to be themselves the sole contributors. A simple inscription was | of the young men, with a notice of the manner of their death, and an intimation that it had been erected to their memory by Howard's grateful, attached, and sorrowing workmen. And here rest these two youths, cut off in their prime-let us trust in the prospect of a joyful resurrection to life eternal, when Christ our Savior "shall come to be glorified in his saints, and to be admired of all those who believe." REVIVALS. RUE religion consists in union between man and God. It implies the full discharge 66 of human duty, and the free bestowment of the divine blessings. Whatever lessens the intimacy of that union, or interrupts the gift of those blessings, creates a necessity for a revival of true spiritual life in the souls of men. The necessity of revivals comes not from any arbitrariness in our Heavenly Father as to giving or withholding his spiritual favor. He is ever more willing to give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him than we are to give good gifts to our children." On the other hand, the necessity of revivals is found in the proneness of men, however exalted in the divine favor, to relapse into coldness, formality, indifference, and unbelief. Such states of mind and heart grieve the Spirit of God, and bring upon their possessor spiritual barrenness and death. When by repentance and a renewal of faith and love they are put away, and the return of the Holy Spirit's influence has re-awakened spiritual life in the soul a revival has taken place. When we consider the enduring mercy of God and the travail of the Redeemer's soul in behalf of lost men, we can see no reason why the true light should not be continually spreading without ever receding, or why the spiritual power of the Church should not be continually augmenting without ever declining. But when we consider the unfaithfulness of men, the seductions of the world, and the oppositions and temptations of the devil, we see the explanation but not any justification of the fact that the light of even true religion has often been dimmed and intermittent, and has as often needed rekindling by revival influence. The term revival is relative in its signification. There may be a revival in the experience of an individual or in that of a Church. Revival influences may be experienced in different degrees corresponding to the depth of languor or torpidity from which an individual or a Church is aroused, and also corresponding to |