“Victor Hugo estimates the annual cost of maintaining the standing armies of Europe at five hundred millions of dollars. This outlay would, in a very few years, pay off every national debt of Europe. In a few years more it would, if wisely expended, so equalize the population of the globe, by a great system of emigration, that every man might have a fair opportunity to earn a competence by his labor. Mr. Upham, in his ‘Manual of Peace,’ thus classifies the causes of the wars of Europe since the age of Constantine the Great—that is, since the Christian religion became the prevailing one: wars of ambition, forty-four; of plunder, twenty-two; of retaliation, twenty-four; of honor, eight; of disputed territory, six; of disputed titles to crowns, _forty-one_; of alliances, thirty; of jealousy, twenty-three; of commerce, _five_; civil wars, fifty-five; of religion, twenty-eight: total, two hundred and eighty-six. The national debt of England, caused by wars alone, is equal to about one-ninth of the whole property of the United Kingdom. The cost of maintaining the war establishments of Europe and the United States is fifty-four per cent. of the whole revenue of the nations. Of the revenue of the Austrian government, thirty-three per cent. is expended in maintaining the army and navy; France, thirty-eight per cent.; Russia, forty-four per cent.; Great Britain, seventy-four per cent.; _the United States, eighty per cent_.” Uncle Sam should take a fresh look at his figures. * * * * * GRANNY AND I. BY ELIZA SPROAT. [Illustration: an old woman sitting on a stool by a spinning wheel and speaking to a lad eating an apple and sitting with a cat] Days agone, days agone! When my life was all at dawn, Ye are sweet to muse upon ’Mid the world’s sad dinning. I an aproned urchin trim, And, within the cottage dim, Crooning quaint an ancient hymn, Granny at her spinning. Spinning at her cottage-door, Where upon the sanded floor, Through the leaves, the light ran o’er, All the summer weather. Granny’s cheek was old and lean; Mine was round and hard, I ween; Very quaint it must have been To see them close together. Very old was granny’s hair, Short and white, and none to spare; Very old the lips so dear That dropped my nightly blessing; Very old the shrunken eyes, Through her specs of goggle size, Looking down their kind replies On my rude caressing. I could spell my primer o’er; Granny knew but little more— Bible readings all her lore, Spinning all her glory. Yet—how was it? now and then, Something past the thoughts of men Opened heaven to my ken Through her teachings hoary.