* * * * * APPEARANCES. BY J. HUNT, JR. It is not by an outward show To judge where sorrows first begin An old, thatched cot, for aught we know, May have a “banquet hall” within. How true this rule will oft apply, To some who fill life’s lowly part; Their very looks may Pain descry, And Joy be seated in their heart. * * * * * HOW CHARLEY BELL BECAME SENATOR. The whole matter is this. The tea-things had just been cleared away, the baby just got fast asleep and laid in his crib, my wife just got fixed by the round-table making a blue velvet cap for him, and I had just got comfortably settled in my arm-chair on the other side of the table, when Tom returned from the post-office through the rain and mud and dark bringing one letter. My wife gave a pish! when I told her it was not from her mother, but apologized immediately for her expression when I informed her that the letter—broad, thick and with a vast deal of ink in the superscription—was from Charley. Giving the wick of the lard-lamp another turn she begged me to read it aloud. Tearing off the envelope—drawing my chair a little nearer the fire and clearing my throat I read— Rev. W.—— “_My dear W._—Elected! Apart from all nonsense and affectation I am heartily glad of it! of course I received the congratulations of every body here quietly, as if it was all a matter of course that I should be elected Senator, but with you I have no reserve. Know then, my _very_ dear W., that I am glad I am elected. For three reasons. First, because I am elected while just barely of the requisite age: Second, because I am elected by an overwhelming majority—20 to 1: Third, because it places me out in a free and higher field of usefulness and energy. Why I feel as if I had just begun my life. I have not attained the _end_—only the beginning of my ambition. I don’t think that it ought to be branded as _ambition_—this feeling of mine either. I _don’t_ think it is ambition. It is a purer feeling—A wish, an eagerness, a _nature_ to be doing, influencing, bettering as wide a sphere as I possibly can. I was elected without any _art_ on my part whatever. I told the people exactly what I was, and what I intended to try to do if they elected me. I intend to be just exactly what I am! If I were to try to appear other than exactly _that_ I would look as well as feel mean—my arm would falter in every gesture, my tongue stammer, my knees shake—I would become weak—weak physically, mentally, utterly! A pure-minded, single-intentioned, whole-souled manner in thought, word and deed has borne me thus far like a straight arrow from a true bow. It is the shortest, best way to cleave the future, I know.