that; so when Mr. P

asked where his wife | the artist was in very poor health; and at last was she wrote "Ems," just to see what they'd he asked, "Has Mr. Elliott any thing to say to

"Yes."

me?"

She then wrote the telegram she had received, word for word, "Elliott-artist-dead!"

Of course all present were very much aston"Then how did you know she was at Ems?" ished, and the gentleman was not a little dis"Why, he told me so himself, not five min- tressed-observing that certainly this was very utes before. I expected when I wrote it that strange; 'twould be remarkable indeed if Elhe would say so at once, but he didn't remem-liott were really dead; in any event they would ber telling me-on the contrary declaring that know to-morrow. no one in the room but himself knew his wife's whereabouts; so I thought I'd let it go." There you see what a wonderful fellow Planchette is, when you come to sift him!

A friend the other day was telling me of his investigations. Planchette was manipulated by two young ladies, ex-officio professors of the art, and he had been asking questions, but got such silly and untrue answers that he was about to give up in disgust, convinced that they were making game of him.

If astonished that evening, judge of the sensation next day, when news came through pub|lic channels that the artist was indeed deceased. Could any doubt be entertained of the mysterious power of Planchette after that?

It will be seen that this instance illustrates not only how easy it is to deceive people, but also how naturally the best disposed persons will drift into deception when such tempting opportunities present themselves. There is a pleasure in mystifying others, and when successfully accomplished the delight is too dear to sacrifice it all by confessing how the effect was produced. The incident just narrated was told to me at the very moment of this writing. I find that now that I am at the confessional very many others ease their consciences by "Here," said he, "tell me the name of the" owning up." Sinners love company as much editor of this journal."

But a thought struck him, and he resolved to give the thing one more trial. A copy of Le Journal pour Rire, which he had just received from Paris, lay on the table; the name of its editor is printed in very small letters at the bottom of the last page.

They wrote "Philipon."

"By George!" cried he, starting up, "there is something strange and almost unaccountable about that. I know that neither of these young ladies knew the name of the editor!"

"Oh yes, I did," exclaimed one of them, leaning breathlessly forward; "I noticed it this morning, and wondered what they printed it way down there for."

The ruling feminine passion asserted itself there. Rather than admit that there was one thing she didn't know, she lost the convert she was endeavoring to make. Of course he saw nothing strange and unaccountable in the writing of the name (misspelt at that) in the light of her admission.

Here is another instance of how easily persons are deceived when they have their mouths made up for the wonderful:

A lady residing in New York was spending the summer at a mountain village in New Hampshire. Her husband undertook to send her all the news. When Elliott the painter died he telegraphed to her, "Elliott-artistdead." The dispatch came in the afternoon, and she did not make it public.

as misery does.

A

I have little more to say, and surely nothing further to confess. I have truthfully given my experience, and if it be of use to any of my fellows, that knowledge is guerdon sufficient. reformed Planchettist, I eat better, drink better, and sleep better than when pursuing my evil practices. My conscience is more at rest, and I no longer have troubled dreams. Let this encourage those who are still under the dominion of the Destroyer to emancipate themselves.

It is useless to tell me that there is any thing in Planchette, or that by its aid every man may become his own medium; I've been there. When you can pat a terrapin on the back and get him to respond in Coptic with his tail, 'twill be time to persuade me that a block of wood can be " charged" sufficiently to write sentences. Mine was charged (it stands charged against me, I believe, to this day), but it would only write when I moved it, and then it wrote precisely what I dictated. That persons write "unconsciously" I do not believe. As well tell me that a man might pick pockets without knowing it. Nor am I at all prepared to believe the assertions of those who declare that

That evening Planchette was on the table-"they do not move the board." I know what all were immensely interested in that gay deceiver up there. A gentleman, a great friend of Mr. Elliott, was present. Having an idea that she could surprise them a little, the lady, when her turn came to put hands on the board, wrote "Elliott," "Elliott,” repeating the name several times.

The gentleman wondered if any thing was wrong with his friend. When he last saw him

operators will do in such cases; I know the distortion, the disregard of truth, which association with this immoral board superinduces. I have seen charming young ladies, whose word I would take on any thing else in life (even if they protested they were not engaged), who would not fib if you asked them if their curls were false or if the red of their lips was natural, sit up with both hands on Planchette-fortified

have deemed himself possessed of Saul's evil spirit if he had even dreamed of doing in his own youth. So of Solomon in reference to Rehoboam, and of every father in reference to every son up to date; except, dear friend, your father.

in falsehood by the contact and lie like lawyers. Bring me any two professors of the artyoung ladies, for men are not to be believed under any circumstances-not too far gone to be sensible to some moral compunction, who will put one hand on Planchette and the other on the Bible-establishing a sort of galvanic connection between the negative and positive poles of truth, so to speak-and swear (as Elia says the custom of resorting to an oath in extreme cases has introduced into the laxer sort of minds the notion of two kinds of truth) that they do not write the messages they promulgate, and I will discuss whether they do or not seriously. Until then I do not recant one single expres-ew as he was positively certain they would be sion, but stand firm by these confessions.

his should have a joint racked or a hair singed.

It is astonishing. In his youthful days Mr. Wall senior would as soon have prayed for pestilence upon him as riches, for this he had not the faintest desire then; no, nor since. But for his nephew he does desire at least a handsome supply of the good things of this life; never thinks for a moment that riches might be as disastrous in their influence upon said nephin his own case. He has reference in his present decision to the ample salary his nephew will P.S.-Since writing the above I have been receive if pastor of the city church as a reason told by a gentleman of accurate information | he should accept, though with him it would have that the article descriptive of “Planchette," al- been a strong motive for declining. Perfectly ready referred to as republished in this country willing to suffer himself the martyrdom of povfrom an English periodical, was purely imagina-erty forever, but very unwilling this nephew of tive throughout; that the writer never saw, and indeed never heard of such a thing; 'twas fab- Let the whole truth be told, and so he rearicated out of his own head. It will be re- sons and so he feels in another matter-Louisimembered that he spoke of it as originating in ana Mills! In his own fervently pious youth the United States, and being in frequent use he would as soon have yearned for the hand of here. This was manifestly wrong-not to say the Paphian Venus as for that of Louisiana, absurd-inasmuch as a Planchette was never dull of mind and keen of appetite, utterly earthknown in this country until put in the marketly and unspiritual in every sense-given to richby a shrewd stationer who contrived to manu-es, and dress, and indolence. Yet all along, facture it from the Englishman's description. without a whisper of it to himself, much less to We are a gullible people, as well as a vast- his own wife, he has set his heart upon his nephthat's beyond a doubt! ew being married to this lady of all the world. One of his first thoughts is that it will now be quite possible for this alliance to be consummated! Let us frankly acknowledge, and neither deny nor quarrel at the eternal laws of the human heart. Noble, white-haired old Barzillai asked David nothing for himself whatever, but for Chimbam every thing! That morning, weeks ago, when his nephew, after a night of sleepless thinking, had announced to his uncle his intention of mounting his horse and riding out in search of a field of labor farther out upon the frontier! Hard work the uncle had to dissuade him from his plan. He was weary even of the short period of comparative idleness under his uncle's roof. After long years of training and

"A

THE NEW TIMOTHY.
Part Seventh.

I.

MOST manifest Providence!" exclaims Mr. Wall, the uncle, and the very moment he hears it read.

For his nephew has just had a letter from the great city of all that region inviting him to visit its greatest church with view to a settlement therein, "if the way be clear," and this letter the nephew has brought direct from the post-office to his uncle's study for his advice thereon. And here beginneth a lesson in human nature if we only had time to study it.arming he was ready, and yearned for the Fight. This noble old clergyman would have shrunk from such a charge had it been pressed upon him in his early ministry-though actually filling two or three fully as important afterward; yet he regards the modest reluctance of his nephew as commendable and-morbid. He doubted his own ability for such a position then, yet has not the least doubt on that point in reference to this nephew.

The solemn fact is, Eli tolerated things in his sons that he would have died rather than do in his own youth. Samuel bore his awful message to Eli, yet played the same foolish father over again in reference to his thoroughly worthless sons, every one of them. David, too, actually petted in Absalom what he would

A

Mr. Wall senior had sent him out to General
Likens partly to keep him occupied until the
Something arrived, he hardly knew what.
dim something that the uncle expected confi-
dently, and therefore prayed for fervently. That
unknown something he found in the letter the
instant he read it.

"Yes, Charles, your way is clear to visit this church," was his decision, all his noble face glowing with pride in his nephew, and cordial assurance of his future career, his eyes not unmoistened with emotion as he spoke. “I'll tell you,” he continued, “we will call a family council upon the spot. See if all do not agree with me."

And so Mrs. Wall had to come in with her

knitting, and Laura must be instantly sent for at the neighbor's with whose sick child she had been sitting up all night. John was deeply engaged, in a check apron and rolled-up sleeves, in some mystery of flour and eggs and sugar in the pantry, but come in she must. It was a critical point in the mystery, too; but whether it "fell" or "rose" or exploded was one to him -come in she must, on the spot.

"Do let the child stay, Mr. Wall," said the wife, as she accompanied her impetuous husband to his study in the yard.

"No, Mary," he says, in his loud, strong tones. "We can't do without John. I do believe she has got more clear, strong sense than any of us!"

He did not intend that young lady to hear this remark, but he did not care particularly if she did. He never said any thing which he would be unwilling for the world to hear. And John did hear him as she scraped the paste from her fingers in the pantry. She had a vague feeling of any thing rather than pleasure in regard to the subject to be decided in the family | council-an almost sickening feeling she could not account for. She regretted that she happened to be at home. But there was no help for it now. She would say as little as possible upon the matter, whatever it was. And so the family assembled in the little study. Mrs. Wall wished to stand. "It will take but a moment, I suppose. What is it?" she said.

"No, sit down, Mary," the husband insisted. "What is it, Charles ?" inquired his aunt, seating herself on the edge of the lounge, and knitting for dear life.

me a good assortment of bulbous roots. Pack them in moss, and they can come by mail. You could find some cuttings, too, if you were to inquire in the city, only you are certain to forget it."

"Very well," says Mr. Wall senior, still more cheerfully. "Now, John, what is your notion? Out with it, child!"

"Please excuse me this time, Mr. Wall. I know so little about such things—”

"No; speak out what you do know, child," he says.

"I am sorry," she says, hesitating a little. "You wish me to speak plainly. I don't know any thing. I can only tell you what I feel about it. But I can't tell you why I feel as I do. So what I would say is not worth hearing."

"But what is it, John?" says Mr. Wall, not quite so cheerfully, while Charles listens as if to the voice of something rather within him than without him. "Tell us what you feel, child. We'll let it go just for what it is worth."

In the moment all the very much Mrs. General Likens had told her in reference to that part of Mr. Merkes's experience flashed upon her.

"You know, child," Mrs. General Likens had said, "he's had an awful time of it a candidating; visiting churches an' preachin' before them, to let them see how they like him or don't like him. In my opinion it's as bad as standing a hand up on a block for sale. How they like his voice, an' his gestures, an' his manner of prayin' and readin'; whether he's too flowery for the old or too dry for the young, an' all that. Of course he couldn't do his best preachin' under these circumstances-could you? An' "No, not till Laura comes," says the hus- he imaginin' all along he saw contempt in one band, anxious for a full and solemn council-face in the congregation, an' laughin' at some not a bit the less so because the decision of that council was already fully made up in his own mind. John looks over the books in the case, her sense of something unpleasant growing rapidly upon her.

At last Laura appears, and in a hurry. "Dear me!" she says, at the door of the study. "What is it? Any one sick? Have the calves been in the garden last night? Don't tell me any thing has been at my dahlias!"

mistake he'd made in another. Him a meetin' half a dozen other candidates on the spot, anʼ all preachin' against each other for dear life, perhaps. An' the bein' heard, an' criticised, an' rejected; and that over an' over again. It's enough to kill his very heart like, cheapen him in his own esteem, cripple him for life. I know it's the custom in all the churches; that the best preachers in the land all do it; an' I don't know any way preachers are to be settled but that; yet I know one thing mighty well, an' that is, my James should have died first! It was my prayer from his birth he might be a preacher. If he had been, an' it had been the Lord's will, I would have given him up for a missionary to go to Siam-Pooter, or whatever it is, willingly; but not to go 'round with a pair of saddle-bags a candidating! Too much study "But let us have your opinion," he says, at and too little exercise at the seminary there in last. "Mary, my dear, you first."

Her father leads her in, shuts the door, requests attention, reads the letter, explains all the circumstances of the case. But long before he comes to a close, and to get the opinion of his council, he has given his own most decidedly that it is a very desirable position in every respect that there can be no possible objection to Charles accepting the invitation.

preparin' for the ministry, steady starvation after enterin' it, is enough to sour Mr. Merkes. Araminty Allen can't make that allowance for

"I can not see how it is possible to get Charles's things ready in time," says that lady, knitting thoughtfully as she runs over his ward-him that I can, but when you come to add to robe in her mind.

"Very well," says her husband, cheerfully. "Now, Laura, your opinion. What is it?"

"Oh, of course," she replies, and, "Oh, Charles, while I think of it, don't forget to send

all that his trials and troubles candidating 'round among the churches, I don't blame him a bit if he is as cross and bitter an' gloomy an' cold as

between us-goodness knows he certainly is. What that man has gone through with would

have ruined the temper of the Beloved Disciple, | try had been to him a cause of unceasing aseven if it is wicked to say so!"

But John whispers no syllable of all this. "Well, Mr. Wall," says John, looking up with her clear calm eyes and truthful brow, "I have a feeling that he ought not to go-at least, had better not settle there."

"But why, child?" asks Mr. Wall the elder, swiftly.

tonishment-the more because his beginning was of the smallest and least promising in many respects. This astonishment was satisfied to him only by his as unceasing remembrance that it must be-was-God himself, the Cause of it all! And so his amazement changed and increased, and glowed more warmly, into a thankfulness and confidence in Him which bore him up as upon wings.

“My opinion is not worth much," she continues, more firmly and seriously; "but I was in "But he's last man I know to find out from favor of his taking that school he once spoke about other folks," Mrs. General Likens reof; and when that was abandoned, I was so marked one day, speaking of him. "When anxious he should go on that missionary trip it's made his duty to speak out-that church west, I suppose it prejudices me against this trial we had out here, you remember, General plan. You know, Mr. Wall," she says, a little-he says every thing plain, I tell you. archly, "you did not call a council about those other plans."

While she is speaking one of the family is dimly conscious, as he looks upon her, of the stirring within him of a singular emotion, not entirely new in his bosom, but never so well defined as now-not perfectly defined as yet far from it. "Singularly lovely," he murmurs to himself; "but so different from Louisiana!" "What a curious girl you are, John!" says the caller of the council; but he is aware also of a curious echo, too, to what she has said in his own bosom.

Other

times he talks easy enough about things, but he won't about people. You never hear any half hints about folks, any chilly-like running down of other people, any sly questions about somebody which will oblige you to say something bad of them in reply from his lips. I'd jest as soon expect Apostle Paul to sit an' babble an' spit an' gossip an' whittle as him to do any thing small an' mean. Something awful about that man-must be his pure goodness—like an angel. Only fault I know is he thinks too highly of other folks, specially those he's most with. I suppose it is the shining of his hope an' love on them colors them like to his eyes. One thing, it makes people on a strain to be what they know he thinks them to be-anywise, while they are any where about him."

He

Mrs. General Likens was correct. Mr. Wall senior loved Charles as if he had been his own son. He estimates him by the ample measure of his own heart, rather than by the smaller and colder and exacter measure of common-sense. really thinks more of him—is a thousand times more confident in the success of his nephew than he ever was of himself. And now John's unwilling opinion comes upon him, and upon the rest of the council, like a cool but entirely bracing and wholesome breeze. But, you see, John had a Yankee father-a man of clear, strong, straightforward, almost cold sense-Yankee that Well for her that her mother was the very soul of womanly sweetness and softness. Thus it was, let us theorize, she is the consummate result of the two.

"I got it from you," says John, more boldly. "That day you were talking to Mr. Bowles in the parlor, you told him a young minister ought to spend several years in a comparatively obscure position before occupying a larger. You explained how he would thus get a practical knowledge of religion and men, which would make a substantial and lasting pastor of him afterward. You told him it would be a good thing for him to spend a few years, even, in teaching-it would deepen and enlarge his mind. That the eight or ten years you had spent in an obscure country charge before you took a city church was of great benefit to you. And then, I remember, you told him of promising young ministers who had gone from the seminary into city pulpits who had failed to sustain themselves, and had to sink back at last into a lower position doubly bitter to them. And you mentioned two or three you knew who had ruined their health entirely in their effort to do so. Did not Mr. Merkes begin his career with a city pulpit ?" asks John, in a lower voice. "Yes," says Mr. Wall the elder, not at all as cheerful as a few moments before; "I believe so. But, John, we hope Charles is nei-heath have found out. ther a Mr. Bowles nor a Mr. Merkes," he continues, with a smile.

"May it not be because you see him with your loving eyes?" says John to herself. Yes, to a greater degree than even John knew did the noble and affectionate uncle see every thing relating to those he loved through a wrong medium, because a rosy medium. Of himself he had an humble opinion, whenever he thought of himself at all, which was rarely enough. All his life his own wonderful success in his minis

far.

'Louisiana! John!" rings the chime in the heart of Burleson. To have one girl in a man's mind is bother enough, but two at the same time it is awful, as more than Captain MacAnd such a contrary

two! With Burleson it is the conflict in his choice as between moonlight and sunshine. Sunshine is coldly clear; but oh! the moonlight is so soft and intoxicating. Sunshine is too wakeful-a man must stand up on his feet and think and act strong and straight out under it; but under the yellow glory of the moon it is so dreamy through all the golden night one can lie at length and drift like a bubble down the slow, eddying flow of whatever befalls. "I could be happy with Louisiana Mills, say, if I

had never met with John," he thinks; "but I this Jacob Langdon? He is aware of it, he rehave met with her, and she is to me a something monstrates with himself about it, he struggles of priceless value-infinite-I can not compute it. I dare not give her up from my possession forever! But here is this Louisiana, so artless and beautiful and charming to the eye. I wish to goodness she had run off with her father's overseer or something before I got back from college," he says. "I would be at peace then to get up on my feet like a man, and brace myself somehow, and have purpose in life and do noble deeds, and perhaps get to heaven at last. Oh bother!"