utter absence of all political, as well as social, morality which is the base of Oriental Christianity.

There is, indeed, in all barbarous or semi-civilised states a want of that high moral tone which is the soul of national honour. Human life is held lightly; the rights of property are not respected: and individual will and might prevail. This is painfully apparent throughout the history of Servia. The worst consequences of a long, barbarous subjugation is that even that amount of emancipation which lies in the local administration of their own affairs, and which will probably be conceded to them by the resistless force of public opinion, will only slowly conduce to an awakening to the consciousnesses of moral duties. The highest problems of moral and intellectual life which ennoble mankind have not yet penetrated into the Christian populations of Turkey. The divine principle of Christianity, though stifled in the fierce conflict for existence, obscured by rivalry with other churches and persuasions, and corrupted by an ignorant, bigoted, and, not unfrequently, a drunken and immoral priesthood, may still be said to be in existence. But the development of a more elevated tone of morality is not only wanting in laity, but in the ministers of religion and in the rulers themselves. It is not until Christianity-a vital religion, purified from fanaticism and superstition-becomes firmly established in the hearts of a people and the institutions of a country, that the duties and rights of man can be fully understood and truly observed. How far they have as yet progressed by elementary education, by moral, religious, and political education, and by the example given to them by their superiors, let any one personally acquainted with the internal condition of the Christian populations of Turkey-including even Roumania-say.

WALTERS' OATH.

THE Accusing Spirit which few up to Heaven's clancery with the oath, blushed as he gave it in, and the recording angel, as he wrote it down, dropped a tear up CL the word and blotted it out for ever.

FROM Cairo on to Suez, if the traveller wished to go,
Before the rail was finished (that's understood, you know),
You took your seat in covered cars, which horses used to draw;
Mr. Walters was the mana_er, and Walters' word was law!

"I cannot be mistaken, wife; I'm sure I know that face!" Said a bishop, as at Cairo he up and down did pace. "My dear, you must remember, that sad dog, Swearing Bill? I thought before this he'd Leen hung; but here he's living still!

Bill Walters, Emma, don't you know, who ran away to seaA very horrid lad, indeed, sunk in iniquity;

Who never opened his bad lips, but out there came an oath, And if two struggled to come out, he found room for them both.

Still, when we are at Cairo we must do as Cairese do :"
"My good friend, Mr. Walters, how goes it now with you?
I hope that you are doing well, and leading a new life—
You remember me at Wallingford? and this is my good wife.”

"I'm glad to see you Bishop, and your good lady too,
Your teaching wasn't thrown away, I'm grateful, sir, to you.
My old sea habits I gave up, and in my locker stowed,
And when I feel I want to swear, I only say I'm 'blowed!'

There's lots that try to make me swear; but then I always say,
The Reverend Mr. Stubbles, he drove that sin away,
Mr. Stubbles who's a bishop now, he drove away that sin;
So, You be blowed! I gently say, and all is peace within.

Have you taken tickets, Bishop, for the cars that start to-night? Oh that be blowed! your Lordship, but I can make it right; Here's twenty-four and thirty-six, and you're a lucky man! Another hour, you wouldn't get a seat in any van.

Now, when I call the numbers out, you mind and take your place, For after any vacant seat there's just a regular race,

And folks pretend they've paid for seats, although they know they've not,

Which makes me say, 'Oh that be blowed,' at once upon the spot!"

"Mr. Walters," said the Bishop, "I raise my hat to you!
If you can give up swearing, there's nothing you can't do.
As for wishing to be blowed, in these Eastern countries hot,
I think it is a venial sin, but still you'd better not.

"In the evening," said the Bishop, "I regret to say I hear, If I take ticket 36 my dear wife won't be near!

For she is number 24, and sadly she will sigh

To miss her lawful partner, and so, no doubt, shall I."

Then up spoke Captain Chaffinbras, of the gallant Third Hussars,
A man who worshipped Venus, and Bacchus, too, and Mars;
“I'll change with you, my reverend friend, for I've got 25,
And 37's a pretty girl; so, Bishop, look alive!"

"24!" cried Mr. Walters, who of all the vans had charge,
And in stepped Mrs. Bishop, who was elderly and large;
"25!" said Mr. Walters, now Captain Chaffinbras,
And the bishop as a captain bold, attempted him to pass.

Mr. Walters recollected the gratitude he owed,
But he muttered quite distinctly, "Oh, Bishop, you be blowed!"
And madness seized on Walters then, who shouted right and left,
Till people, of his senses thought Walters was bereft.

And when he came to 36 he gave a fearful grin,
"The Bishop of Bombay," he said, "will please to now step in!"
Then up strode Captain Chaffinbras, with look so bold and bad,
The men said, "He's a rum one!" the ladies, "He's a lad!"

Mad Walters, now forgetting the teaching of his Church—
Alas! it was his Bishop who had left him in the lurch;
Into his widely-opened mouth his handkerchief he crammed,
But the horrid words they gurgled out, You a Bishop? You be
dd.

J. T. W. B.

THE LEPER OF AOSTA.

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF COUNT XAVIER DE MAISTRE BY C. MILLER.

THE Southern part of Aosta is now almost deserted, and, indeed, looks as if it had never been thickly populated. It contains cultivated fields and meadows, bounded on one side by the old ramparts, with which the Romans had surrounded it, and on the other by garden walls. This solitary spot is not, however, uninteresting to travellers. Close to the city gate are the remains of an old castle in which (according to popular tradition) Count Renè de Chalans, in the 15th century, being impelled by jealous fury, left his wife, Princess Marie de Bragance, to die of hunger; hence came the name of Bramafau, which means cri de la faim, given to this castle by the country people. About a hundred feet from the castle stands a square tower, leaning against the old wall, and built of the marble with which in times gone by the wall had been entirely faced. It was called the Tower of Fear, because the people believed it had long been haunted by ghosts. The old women of

Aosta perfectly remember having seen a tall woman, robed in white, come forth one dark night, bearing a lamp in her hand. About fifteen years ago this tower was put in a state of repair by order of the government, and had a wall built round it for the purpose of receiving a leper, who would thus be separated from society, yet would retain all the comforts of which his sad condition left him susceptible. The hospital of S. Maurice was responsible for his food, and along with a few pieces of furniture, a set of gardening tools was given him.

He lived alone here for a long time, seeing no one but the priest, who came occasionally to give him the consolations of religion, and the man who brought him a weekly supply of provisions from the hospital.

During the war of the Alps in 1797, a soldier who chanced to be at the city of Aosta was passing one day by the leper's garden, and finding the door open, had the curiosity to go in. He saw a man plainly dressed, leaning against a tree and plunged in the deepest mcditation.

At the noise made by the officer in entering the recluse called out in a melancholy voice, without turning or looking, "Who is there? and what do you want of me?"

"Pardon me," answered the soldier, "I am a stranger, and

have perhaps been betrayed by your charming garden into a thoughtless act; but I would not annoy you on any account."

"Come no further," said the inhabitant of the tower with an admonitory gesture; come no further, for you are near a wretch attacked with leprosy."

"Whatever may be your misfortune," replied the traveller, "I shall not fly from you, for I never yet forsook the miserable; but if my presence troubles you I will depart at once."

"You are welcome, then," said the leper, turning suddenly round; "stay if you dare, after having seen me."

For a few moments the soldier stood aghast, overpowered with horror at the appearance of the unfortunate man, whose face was completely disfigured by leprosy. Then he said, "I will stay willingly, if you will accept a visit from a man who came accidentally, but who remains from motives of the deepest interest in you."

THE LEPER.

"From interest in me? I never excited anything but pity."

THE SOLDIER.

"I shall be only too happy if I can give you any comfort."

"It is a very great once more the human me."

THE LEPER.

comfort to me to see anyone, and to hear voice, which seems ever trying to escape

THE SOLDIER.

May I talk to you awhile and see over your abode ?"

THE LEPER

"With pleasure if you wish it. So saying, the leper covered his head with a large felt hat (of which the sloping brim concealed his face). Come here and look at my little garden, it may interest you. You will find some great rarities in it, for I got seeds of all the plants growing wild on the Alps, and it has been my delight to improve them by cultivation, and so to make them flower double."

THE SOLDIER.

"I see many flowers here quite new to me."

THE LEPER.

"Look at this dwarf rose! it is the rose without a thorn, which grows on the very highest Alps; but it is already losing its individuality, for no sooner do I bestow upon it care and pains than it begins to put forth thorns as well as flowers."

THE SOLDIER.

"Surely it is the emblem of ingratitude."

THE LEPER.

66 If you admire any of those flowers you can take them without fear, for you run no risk in gathering them. I sowed them and I have the pleasure of watering them and looking at them; but I never touch them."