them flowed as from its source. The stranger, the sick, and the needy had claims that could not be neglected or ignored; the stranger, because he was far from his family and friends, and had honored his neighboring tribe with a visit; the sick and the needy, because the Great Spirit had sent a common stock of meats and grains for all his creatures, and if any were left unsupplied by reason of the unkindness of others, the great and good Manitto would be displeased. The following amusing instance of an Indian's impressions concerning the hospitality and social principles of the whites, in contrast with those of his own race, was communicated by Conrad Weiser, a British interpreter, to Dr. Franklin. He had been naturalized among the Six Nations, and spoke well the Mohock language. In going through the Indian country, to carry a message from the British governor to the council at Onondaga, he called at the habitation of Canassetego, an old acquaintance, who embraced him, spread furs for him to sit upon, placed before him some boiled beans and venison, and mixed some rum and water for his drink. When he was well refreshed and had lit his pipe, Canassetego began to converse with him, asked him how he had fared the many years since they had seen each other, whence he then came, what had occasioned the journey, etc. Conrad answered all his questions; and when the discourse began to flag, the Indian to continue it, said, "Conrad you have lived long among the white people and know something of their customs; I have been sometimes at Albany, and have observed that once in seven days they shut up their shops, and assemble all in the great house; tell me what it is for? What do they do there?" "They meet there," says Conrad, "to hear and learn good things." "I do not doubt," says the Indian, "that they tell you so; they have told me the same; but I doubt the truth of what they say, and I will tell you my reasons. I went lately to Albany to sell my skins, and buy blankets, knives, powder, rum, etc. You know I generally used to deal with Hans Hanson; but I was a little inclined this time to try some other merchants. However, I called first upon Hans, and asked him what he would give for beaver. He said he could not give more than four shillings a pound, 'but,' says he, 'I cannot talk on business now; this is the day when we meet together to learn good things, and I am going to the meeting.' So I thought to myself, since I cannot do any business to-day, I may as well go to the meeting too, and I went with him. There stood up a man in black, and began to talk to the people very angrily; I did not understand what he said, but perceiving that he looked much at me and at Hanson, I imagined that he was angry at seeing me there; so I went out, sat down near the house, struck fire, and lit my pipe, waiting till the meeting should break up. I thought, too, that the man had mentioned something of beaver, and I suspected it might be the subject of their meeting. So when they came out, I accosted my merchant—'Well, Hans,' says I, 'I hope you have agreed to give more than four shillings a pound?' 'No,' says he, 'I cannot give so much; I cannot give more than three shillings and sixpence.' I then spoke to several other dealers, but they all sung the same song, three and sixpence, three and sixpence. This made it clear to me that my suspicion was right; and that whatever they pretended of meeting to learn good things, the real purpose was to consult how to cheat Indians in the price of beaver. Consider but a little, Conrad, and you must be of my opinion. If they met so often to learn good things, they certainly would have learned some before this time. But they are still ignorant. You know our practice. If a white man, in traveling through our country, enters one of our cabins, we all treat him as I treat you; we dry him if he is wet, we warm him if he is cold, and give him meat and drink that he may allay his thirst and hunger; and we spread soft furs for him to rest and sleep on; we demand nothing in return. But if I go into a white man's house at Albany, and ask for victuals and drink, they say, 'Where is your money?' And if I have none, they say, 'Get out, you Indian dog.' You see they have not yet learned those little good things that we need no meeting to be instructed in, because our mothers taught them to us when we were children; and therefore it is impossible their meetings should be, as they say, for any such purpose, or have any such effect; they are only to contrive the cheating of Indians in the price of beaver.” No doubt such wrong inferences had much to do with the hostility of the savages in their contact with the whites. Unable to understand the English language, they judged the spirit of the pale face by what he was willing to do for the red man, and this, in most cases, was so little that the native became the deadly foe of the aggressor. Our forefathers, however, among themselves, were a hospitable people, as pioneers generally are. New comers from the Old World found welcome among them, and food and shelter were as free as the air. But the establishment of inns and taverns in all new towns, where strangers were expected to find accommodation, cut off from the Americans that reputation for hospitality enjoyed by Oriental nations in the days when public houses were unknown. Shenstone's poetic reference no doubt had much of truth in it: "Whoe'er has traveled life's dull round, Where'er his stages may have been, Everything in and around the home should be so ordered as to speak the hospitable feeling of the heart. A writer on taste has called attention to certain principles in the arrangement of furniture which must be observed if the visitor is to be at all impressed with the sense of comfort and beauty. Variety is one of the essentials. "It is not necessary to buy a whole set of furniture alike, but there should be one prevailing color, a solid basis on which to build. There should also be care taken to furnish the wall spaces. It is an admirable plan to pull a sofa out, but if in doing so a great empty space is left, the room is made bare. In such a case the sofa could be turned so as to break the stiff line, and yet remain against the wall. But the great secret of comfort and of giving an immediate effect of pleasant living is in the making of corners. What does an open fire amount to if an easy chair does not stand in front of it, or a lovely view from a window, if the curtain has to be drawn up and the visitor has to stand to look out? No, what we want is the chair by the fire; the light on the table and the lounge pushed near it; the easy seat by the window where a good light falls, all ready and waiting. It is all in vain to put baskets of bright wools about, magazines or portfolios of engravings, to give a 'home look,' if the convenient and comfortable seat is not added. The visitor who, coming in, finds an easy chair by the fire, and near it the little stand with the magazine, can endure waiting a few moments, because he feels that his welcome has met him. The chair by the window, the fan ready to be picked up, the bench under the tree, the seat on the porch, are the successes of hospitality. It is not given to every one to appreciate pictures, or to feel color, but every one delights in being made comfortable." Our children and their friends must not be forgotten in our hospitalities. The trouble of showing kindness to the little fellows in whose society our boys and girls take delight is a kind of trouble that pays. It raises father and mother in their esteem immensely if they are treated as worthy the hospitalities of the house. Besides, it is an excellent thing to know with whom your children play, and how they deport themselves. Make your children's company welcome at your home, and you can gain this information. "It need not be irksome," truthfully remarks one, " if you keep the number within bounds. In summer our little visitors like to sit with their playthings in the shady porch, or in the door-way. In the cold weather they can have the warm dining-room. If disposed to run over the house, it is sufficient to say, decidedly, "Don't run up stairs, please; just play in the dining-room." No child will disregard the request. "It is worth a great deal to make children happy. They remember little treats longer than we suppose. A lady once said that one of the pleasantest recollections of her childhood was sitting on a grassy bank, and of a fair hand reaching from a window and placing a handful of large, delicious strawberries in her lap. "Set out a plate of sandwiches, cookies, apples or whatever is handiest in the pantry, and then let the little girls arrange them to suit themselves on their sprigged tea set. A little coffee and sugar and milk in their small dishes make their happiness complete. "Be a lady to your boy's friends, and leave a good impression upon them if you wish to retain the respect of your own dear boy. It hurts boys' feelings and mortifies them intensely to have mother speak snappishly to them before companions, making them feel that they are not wanted. Such boys are apt to wander away, with most resentful feelings, to seek such company as the mother would dread to have for their associates. But whom should she blame most for it?" It were a pity to allow hospitality to die out and the meaning of the word to be forgotten. Life will be robbed of half its joys when people cease to regard company as a blessing, and, except in the way of cold formalities or costly display, count entertainment a burden. Away with the idea that hospitality means simply to eat, drink and sleep, and that there is nothing to be done except to minister to the animal nature. The ancients exhausted the virtue of this notion; let not the moderns think to get any good out of it. We are told that in the days of Antony and Cleopatra it was a common thing to see eight wild boars roasting whole at the same time to supply the wants of ten guests. In one of Cleopatra's banquets, Antony expressed surprise at the vast number of gold cups enriched with jewels which were displayed on all sides. The queen quickly answered that since he admired such trifles he was very welcome to them, and at once ordered her servants to carry them all to his house. The next day she invited him again with the request that he bring his friends with him. He accepted the invitation, and came attended by all the chief officers at that time in Tarsus. When the banquet was over, and the numerous guests ready to depart, Cleopatra presented them with all the gold and silver plate in use during the entertainment. As a parting salute, she took a jewel from her ear-ring, valued at a quarter of a million dollars, dissolved it in vinegar, and drank it off. She was preparing to melt the other, and would have done so, had not Plaucus interfered and saved the pearl. There is a hospitality better than this-"a hospitality," says Mrs. Lavilla E. Allen, "that is as rare and sweet as earth can afford, whose graciousness and charm are indescribable. The moment you enter the door the very atmosphere of welcome enfolds you. Your tastes and preferences are ministered to so delicately that you are led to wonder how they knew. If you are not in a mood for talking, the golden, restful silence falls down upon you like a benediction, and no one feels that it must be broken by any effort to entertain you. If you care to read or write, or even curl down on the sofa for a nap, you are not made conscious of any breach of etiquette or propriety. Then the glad and frequent interchange of thought and feeling intermingle the whole, and a |