ere
distributed the air became vocal with rude wit and noisy laughter, and
the deep ravine gave back loud "yah-yahs" which sounded truly demoniac
in the darkness, and were no doubt the reproachful, sneering laughter of
the late lamented, whose obsequies were for the second time
abbreviated--the resentful, mocking laughter of him who was "dead and
gone."

But the negro, as said before, has one advantage over his impecunious
white brother--a genius for theft. The white man may not have, as a
general thing, sterner principle or a softer conscience, but it cannot
be said, except in isolated cases, that he has a passion for stealing.
The Chinaman is regarded by severe moralists as somewhat lax in the
matter of honesty, and indeed, to be candid, he has been accused of
cultivating theft as one of the fine arts; but even he has the grace to
be, or to affect to be, ashamed of it, and indignantly resentful at
being suspected of the immorality. The negro, on the other hand, is only
terribly afraid of being punished, and on being forgiven feels
immediately purified and free from sin. He has, in fact, no moral
principle, and his code of honesty is comprised in a conversation I
overheard this winter. Our youngest child seemed to have a vague,
indefinite fear of rogues, and a very imperfect idea of what a rogue
might be, and was always asking questions on the subject. One morning,
while his nurse was dressing him, I heard him inquire, "How big is a
rogue, Betty? Can he hear a mile?"

Before she could reply, his brother, very little older, rose to explain:
"Why, Bob, you've seen a many a rogue. A rogue is thes' a man. Papa an'
Uncle Bob looks ezactly like other rogues."

"Is papa an' Unker Bob rogues?" asked the youngest with innocent wonder.

"No, chile--dat dey ain't!" said Betty as she filled his eyes with soap.
"Yo' papa an' yo' uncle Borb is jes' as ornes' as anybody, 'cos rogues
is folks what steals an' _gits cotch_!"

JENNIE WOODVILLE.

THE AFTER-DINNER SPEECH OF THE BARONESS CONTALETTO.

In one of the most salubrious sections of Alaska there exists--or did
exist in December, 1876--a society named "The Irreparables." It was
composed of women only. For this there were several reasons. The
subjects discussed were not supposed to interest men, but this might
have been remedied had not the men, already in a minority in the
village, absolutely refused to have anything to do with a society in
which they were sure to