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C. Sloop! Sloop has one mast, I tell you; schooner, two; ship, three.

Lady No. 2. Why, Jane, how stupid you are! A schooner always has one mast.

L. (chatty, and quite oblivious of stupidity). What is a brig?

C. A brig has two masts, and is rigged like a ship, with square sails.

L. What are those sticks across the masts of that schooner, captain?

C. That's not a schooner. Schooner, two masts; ship, three; sloop, one. That's a ship. Those are the yards which hold the sails.

L. Oh!

C. (encouraged). Now the first yard on

Lady No. 2. Jane, look at this sloop com- the foremast is the fore-yard; the second is ing along. the foretopsail-yard; the third is the foregallant-yard.

C. That's a schooner; don't you see the two masts? Sloop, one mast; schooner, two masts; ship, three masts.

L. Are those schooners there with three masts ?

C. Yes.

L. What is that yard sticking straight up out of that little schooner?

C. Great Scott! That's not a schooner; it's a sloop. Sloop, one mast; schooner, two; ship, three. What you call her yard is

L. I thought you said a schooner had but her mast. one mast?

Lady No. 2.

Certainly, Jane; how stu

C. Two two masts! Sloop, one mast; pid you are! Captain, what are the names schooner, two; ship, three.

L. But that schooner has three masts.
C. Well, it is a three-masted schooner.
L. Then a schooner can have any num-
ber of masts?

C. No. Sloop, one mast; schooner, two, and sometimes three masts; ship, three

masts.

of the other masts on that schooner's yards
you were pointing out to us?
C. (internally).

Lady No. 2. Captain, where are the lub

bers?

C. (wishes he could tell). Up there on that ship's masts, near the tops.

L. (looking attentively at a schooner).

L. I'm sure I can't make it out; it's Near the top of the masts of that sloop? awfully puzzling. What is a bark?

C. (unable any longer to popularize nautical science, falls back on technical expression). Vessel with two masts ship-rigged, and one mast sloop-rigged; square sails on fore and mainmast, and fore and aft sails on the mizzen.

Mizzen! What is a mizzen?

L.

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L. Aft! What's the aft?

C. The stern, madam.

L. Oh, I'm sure I can't make it out. Is that a sloop there? (Pointing again to a schooner.)

C. No; it's a schooner. Sloop, one mast; schooner, two; ship, three.

L. How many masts has a man-o'-war?
C. Three.

L. Well, what's the difference between

a man-o'-war and a smack?

C. (Groans, and is silent.)

C. No, no; farther down. Where the futtock shrouds are fastened. No, no; not on that vessel. A schooner has no lubbers, · (mentally) except this one, and they're on deck.

L.

(whose interest in the locality of lubbers suddenly ceases). Is n't that a pretty ship sailing along?

C. Ship! That's an old tub of a schooner, ma'am. Schooner, two masts; ship, three; sloop, one, I tell you.

L. Can a sloop have two masts?

Sloop, one mast; schooner, two; ship,

C.
three.
Lady No. 2.
captain?

How many masts has a ship,

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THE EVERETT OAK.

CAMBRIDGE is known the world over as "the historic city" to which pilgrims congregate from the "four corners," in summer's heat or winter's cold. The many points of interest in the city seem to grow more and more sacred and interesting as the years go by. 'Tis well! The shadows of her trees fall down on many a hallowed spot, and yet, not least of all, are the trees themselves.

There is a tree of uncommon interest to the few who know its history, which must in future become one of the famous trees of Cambridge. This tree stands near the Harvard Law School building, and is an oak. Its nativity is a remarkable one. Edward Everett, while on a visit to Mount Vernon, obtained an acorn which he brought home and planted with his own hand near the Law School. From the planting grew this oaktree, which the silver-tongued orator tended and cared for during its infancy. This oak, now for the first time introduced to the world at large, must become a favorite tree to all who have ever heard the name of Edward Everett. It should be protected with peculiar care, and a stone to mark its identity would certainly be in keeping with such a history.

Near the oak stands a chestnut-tree with peculiar habits. One side blooms one year, while the other lacks blossoms, and the following year the order is reversed, and has so continued year after year.

JULIA WARD HOWE.

THE Buffalo “ Express," in its report of the proceedings of the Women's Congress held there recently, inserts the following sketch of Julia Ward Howe:

As the Convention proceeds, the strong individuality of some of the women active in the proceedings makes itself felt, and the casual listener takes away with him vivid impressions of two or three of the speakers

which overpower his recollection of the others. To none of these ladies does a greater personal interest attach than to the president, Mrs. Julia Ward Howe. As she presides with quiet grace over the Convention, the observer can note, now and then, as the current of discussion arouses her, the quick flush of emotion which identifies the scholarly, experienced woman with the romantic and eccentric girl of twenty. Julia Ward was well known in New York circles as having a "red temperament." The auburn in her hair is pretty well silvered now, but the author of "Passion Flowers" has never lost the "red temperament" by which the pet of the wealthy New York banker was known. As a girl she was a studious dreamer. She wrote verses in childhood, and acquired French, Italian, and German in early girlhood. As a school-girl she knew the wealth of Goethe and Schiller, and even published a review of Lamartine's "Jocelyn," creditable to any years. At twenty she was subject to seasons of profound melancholy. Her studies of German philosophy had made her anti-theistic; but the sudden death of her father and brother drove her passionate nature to the other extreme. The heretic became a devotee, and for two years her only reading was the Bible. At length a copy of Guizot's

History of Civilization" fell into her hands. Its perusal awakened her from a dream of holiness — possibly from the "beautiful poetic misery" of which she spoke Wednesday to a life of usefulness. She became liberal in politics and in religion. At twentythree she married Dr. Samuel G. Howe, whose heroic labors for Greece in her struggle for independence, whose devotion to the blind, and whose activity in the anti-slavery crusades, made him called "the new Bayard." They went abroad. In English court circles she was petted, and shone by the light of her husband's fame, which the publication of Dickens's "American Notes" had made dear to English hearts. Her first child was born in Rome, from which city she returned to the less romantic New England home. She continued her studies, taking up Swe

Springing from bed in the gray light of early dawn, she found paper, and in a brief halfhour the " Battle Hymn was written. The old girl-spirit of Julia Ward, the enthusiast, came back to her, her color heightened with the same flush which burned when the words were written, as she forgot self, audience and all, and recited in sympathetic accents the famous hymn,

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;

denborg. A second trip to Europe was made in 1850. From this time on, her contributions to American literature became frequent. Her husband was publishing the anti-slavery Boston paper, the "Commonwealth," and for it she wrote verses, editorials, letters, sketches. In 1857 she published “The World's Own," a play which was brought out at Wallack's, and failed. In 1859, with her husband, she accompanied the dying Theodore Parker to Cuba, and contributed to the "Atlantic Monthly" an account of the trip. It contained more humor than anything she had at that time written. It is impossible to name her subsequent writings, which have been legion, and have been in the fields of philosophy, religious ethics, and poetry, besides much lighter work. Her account of a trip in 1867 to the East to distribute Ameri- I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a huncan supplies to destitute Cretans, shows her as an enthusiastic philanthropist. It is well said of her that she has demonstrated in her life the wisdom of allowing women to learn I the alphabet. Of late years she has written rather less than formerly, but is active in all such movements as this congress. Noth

He is trampling out the vintage where the
grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His
terrible, swift sword;

His truth is marching on.

dred circling camps:

They have builded Him an altar in the even-
ing dews and damps :

can read His righteous sentence by the
dim and flaring lamps;
His day is marching on.

rows of steel:

"As ye deal with My contemners, so with you My grace shall deal;

ing she has ever written has won a wider I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished admiration than her "Battle Hymn," which was called at the time of its publication the Marseillaise of the Republic, and which well shows the passionate, energetic richness of her poetry.

Let the Hero born of woman crush the serpent with his heel,

Since God is marching on."

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall
never call retreat;

He is sifting out the hearts of men before
His judgment-seat.

Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be
jubilant, my feet!

Our God is marching on.

With the pleasantest of introductions, Mrs. Howe last night announced that she had been asked to recite this poem. A ripple of pleased applause ran through the audience at the announcement. She related how the poem was written. In the early days of the Rebellion she first saw the "bristling front of war" at Washington. The spectacle of military evolution moved her deeply, and to a friend she exclaimed, "How I wish I could put the meaning of this into verse!" The In the beauty of the lilies, Christ was born idea haunted her, and when she retired at night it was only to think of it. She tried to write, but found it impossible. Early the next morning she awoke and found her thoughts throbbing unconsciously to the stirring air, then all the rage, of "John Brown."

across the sea,

With a glory in His bosom that transfigures

you and me ;

As

He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,

While God is marching on.

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A PROPOS of the recent celebrations at Berlin in honor of the birthday anniversary of the late Queen Louise, Kaiser Wilhelm's mother, the following anecdote is told: One day Frederick William the Third, upon entering his consort's boudoir at the breakfasthour, as was his wont, caught sight of a fine new cap upon the Queen's work-table, and laughingly inquired how much she had paid for it. "Very little," was the reply; "I chose one of the cheapest in the shop. It only cost four thalers." "Only four thalers!" rejoined the King. "A great deal too much money, I should say, for such a thing as that." So saying, he waiked across the room to a window overlooking the Schloss-Platz, and, happening to perceive an old pensioned guardsman passing by, called him up into the room, and, pointing to the Queen, exclaimed: "That lady sitting on the sofa has more money than she knows what to do with. Now tell me, my old comrade, how much do you think she gave for that cap lying there on the table ?"

After taking a good look at the cap, the puzzled veteran shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I daresay it cost a few groschen." "Groschen, indeed!” cried the King, casting a triumphant glance at his smiling consort; "I tell you she paid four thalers for it. Go to her; I'll answer for it, she'll give you just as much as the cap cost." Taking out her purse, the Queen counted out four brand-new thalers and dropped them, one by one, into the old soldier's outstretched hand, saying, "You see that tall gentleman standing by the window. He has much more money than I. Indeed, everything I possess comes to me from him. Now go to him; I feel certain that he will give you just twice as much as you have had from me." Frederick William, caught in his own trap, produced eight thalers and handed them to the old pensioner, who went on his way rejoicing. This man, Christian Brandes, lived to a great age, and the King, whose memory for faces and names was as remarkable as that of his great-uncle, Frederick the Second, met him` accidentally several years later, a short time after the death of the Queen. Recognizing him at once, he held out his hand, and ejaculated in a voice broken by emotion, Brandes, do you remember?"

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THE following legend relates how a certain Grand Duke of Florence built a bridge without expense to the State. The Grand Duke issued a proclamation that every beggar who would appear in the grand plaza at a certain designated time should be provided with a new suit of clothes free of cost. At the appointed hour the beggars of the city all assembled, whereupon the officers caused each avenue to the public square to be closed, and then compelled the beggars to strip off their old clothes, and gave to each one, according to promise, a new suit. In the old clothes thus collected enough money was found concealed to build a beautiful bridge over the Arno, still called the Beggars' Bridge.

HENRY WADSWORTH

LONGFELLOW.

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW, the beloved and revered poet, was born in Portland, Me., Feb. 27, 1807.

ted to follow the honorable career of his son for nineteen years, and he died Nov. 7, 1764.

Before taking up his residence in Portland, Stephen Longfellow had been keeping school in York. He came to Portland on the earnIn Parson Smith's "Journal," the source est invitation of Parson Smith, and opened of so much of what is known concerning the his school April 17, 1745. The number of early history of Portland, occurs this entry, scholars is not known. In the following year under date of April 11, 1745: "Mr. Longfel- it was fifty, and in the list which has been low came here to live." This was Stephen preserved occur the names of the prominent Longfellow, the great-grandfather of the poet. families of that day. Oct. 19, 1749, he marHe was a native of Newbury, Mass. His ried Tabitha Bragdon, of York. He congrandfather, William Longfellow, was born tinued to be the principal instructor in the in Hampshire county, England, about the town until 1760, when he was appointed year 1651. In early life he came to New- Clerk of the Judicial Courts. When the town bury, where, Nov. 10, 1678, he was married was destroyed, Oct. 18, 1775, Mr. Longfelto Anne, daughter of Henry Sewall, and a low's house was burned, and he removed to sister of Samuel Sewall, afterward Chief Jus- Gorham, ten miles distant, where he died tice of the Province of Massachusetts Bay. | May 1, 1790. As ensign, he accompanied Sir William Phips's ill-fated expedition to Quebec, in 1690. On the return of the fleet, a violent | storm scattered the vessels in the Gulf of St. Lawrence. That in which William Longfellow sailed went ashore at Anticosti, a desolate island, and he, with nine others, was drowned.

Of his three sons (Stephen, Samuel, and William), the latter died in early life, while Samuel left no children. Stephen, the eldest son, was born Aug. 3, 1750. Dec. 13, 1773, he married Patience Young, of York. His home was in Gorham, where he died May 28, 1824. He represented Gorham in the General Court of Massachusetts eight years. For several years he was Senator from Cumberland County. He was Judge of the Court of Common Pleas from 1797 to 1811. To the close of his life he wore the old-style dress, short clothes, a long waistcoat, and white top-boots. He was a man of sterling qualities of mind and heart, great integrity, and sound common sense.

Of his six children, one, named Stephen Longfellow (for Stephen Sumner, Mrs. Longfellow's grandfather), had died in early childhood; and to another son, born Sept. 22, 1685, the same name was given. This was the father of Stephen Longfellow, who came to Portland in 1745. Concerning his quiet, uneventful life we know but little. He became a blacksmith, and we may picture Stephen, his second child, born in Gorhim, like the poet's hero of the village smithy, ham, March 23, 1776, was the father of with large and sinewy hands, brawny arms, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. He entered his brow wet with honest sweat, as he swings Harvard College in 1794. That he was a his heavy sledge with measured beat and favorite with his class is the testimony of his slow. He married, March 25, 1714, Abigail | associates; but he went to College for other Thompson, daughter of Edward Thompson, purposes than good fellowship. He was an of Marshfield, by whom he had ten chil- earnest, exemplary student, and having comdren. In his son Stephen, born Feb. 7, pleted his course, he left the University with 1723, he seems early to have discovered a full share of its honors. After his graduasigns of intellectual promise, and he sent tion he entered the law office of Salmon him to Harvard College, where he was Chase, an uncle of Salmon Portland Chase, graduated in 1742. The father was permit-late Chief Justice of the United States, and

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