ve, hospitable, sober, faithful, and, with the exception of the
Mohammedan, are inclined to tolerate other religions; they are, however,
lamentably deficient in every branch of education. Polygamy is not
permitted, and the tribes intermarry with each other. The families of
the father and sons live under the same roof, and the patriarchal system
is carried out still further, each village being under its own
hereditary chief.

THE APPROACH OF CHRISTMAS.

The time draws near the birth of Christ,
The moon is hid, the night is still;
A single church below the hill
Is pealing, folded in the mist

A single peal of bells below,
That wakens at this hour of rest
A single murmur in the breast,
That these are not the bells I know

Like strangers' voices here they sound,
In lands where not a memory strays,
Nor landmark breathes of other days.
But all is new unhallow'd ground.

TENNYSON'S "_In Memoriam_".

[From Dickens's Household Words.]

UGLINESS REDEEMED--A TALE OF A LONDON DUST-HEAP.

On a murky morning in November, wind northeast, a poor old woman with a
wooden leg was seen struggling against the fitful gusts of the bitter
breeze, along a stony, zig-zag road full of deep and irregular
cart-ruts. Her ragged petticoat was blue, and so was her wretched nose.
A stick was in her left hand, which assisted her to dig and hobble her
way along; and in her other hand, supported also beneath her withered
arm, was a large, rusty, iron sieve. Dust and fine ashes filled up all
the wrinkles in her face; and of these there were a prodigious number,
for she was eighty-three years old. Her name was Peg Dotting.

About a quarter of a mile distant, having a long ditch and a broken-down
fence as a foreground, there rose against the muddled-gray sky, a huge
dust-heap of a dirty-black color--being, in fact, one of those immense
mounds of cinders, ashes, and other emptyings from dust-holes and bins,
which have conferred celebrity on certain suburban neighborhoods of a
great city. Toward this dusky mountain old Peg Dotting was now making
her way.

Advancing toward the dust-heap by an opposite path, very narrow and just
reclaimed from the mud by a thick layer of freshly broken flints, there
came at the same time Gaffer Doubleyear, with his bone-bag slung over
his shoulder. The rags of his coat fluttered in the east-wind, which
also whistled keenly round his almost