country it is the custom when the sun goes down for the priest to go to his prayers, and for all Christian souls to cease whatever calling may employ them and for a few moments to join him in his prayer, thanking the Virgin for having given them the blessing of another day, thanking the saints for having watched over them, praying our Saviour to be with them always, and give them at the end the grace of a happy death. As the bells ring out you know that all Cadiz turns by instinct and for a few moments joins the praying priest in his supplications. I am afraid I am not as devout as many of my friends who belong to the Young Men's Christian Association, and I feel whenever I touch a religious theme a sense of great unworthiness, of coming into a foreign atmosphere, and that, after all, I am a mere worldly being, animated with selfish ideas, concerned over politics, and revenues, and dinners, and clothes, the yellow fever and the Eastern question, and that you are brought into a holy presence, into relations with men and women who have lived in the face of God. This feeling, this consciousness of all that I am, and of how much more I could be were I to walk in the humble, believing way, has given me a profound respect for any form of religion, for any doctrine or teaching that brings consolation to the harried soul of man that wins him, even if for a moment, into the presence of his Creator. I can respect the Indian who worships fire, and the Egyptian who deified the bull, or Mumbo Jumbo in his morass who adores the ebony fragment he calls a god. It is all an expression of reverence, and human nature depends upon reverence as the sea upon the salt that gives it savor. So far, then, as religion teaches men to revere, to see above them a higher wisdom, to look for better ways, and to chasten their lives by the performance of nobler deeds, so far as it teaches them restraint, energy, courage, resignation-whatever expresses its offices is a sacred thing. From this point of view what a beauty you find in those Angelus bells as you lean over the sea wall-the cool breezes fanning your cheek—and hear them jangle in the evening air! Stately Spanish gentlemen pause, and their cloaks fall from their shoulder-for the Spanish gentleman

575 always uncloaks himself when he greets you-and now he is greeting supremacy, and looks out toward the sea, and follows the distant priest in his prayer. My lady with the glowing eyes pauses, and the head drops a moment, and making the sign of the cross, she passes on. For a few minutes the jangling bells ring out and all the world is at prayer. He would be a poor Spaniard, whatever his creed or ways, who could allow those bells to pass without answering their invocation. They ring for him now as they did for his infancy, as they rang for his ancestors, as they ring every day of his life. Whatever the world may do in the way of temptation or duty, for one moment the Church comes and absorbs his soul, and he is one with the thousands arounds him, and his heart goes in reverence to its Maker; and as you hear these jangling bells you feel how fond, and vast, and supreme is this religion, whose command falls upon a people from a hundred turret bells.

T was with no little regret that General Grant left the bright and picturesque scenes of sunny Spain and journeyed north to Paris. From Paris the party went direct to England, Mrs. Grant intending to spend a few days with her daughter, Mrs. Sartoris, while the General made a short trip into Ireland.

General Grant left London on the evening of July 2d by the regular mail route, via Holyhead and Kingstown, and arrived at Dublin the next morning, accompanied by General Noyes, General Badeau, Mr. Russell Teney, and Mr. Fitzgerald. On arriving at Westland Row he was received by the Lord Mayor (Sir J. Barrington), and conveyed in his carriage to the Shelburne Hotel, where a suite of rooms had been prepared for the General and his companions. The American Consul in Dub