—Treasury statistics show arrivals from China of 160,979 up to 1875. In 1875 the arrivals were 19,033; but in 1876 the immigration fell off to 16,879, owing to the April disturbance in that year in California. For the first quarter of 1877 the number was only 965, but it soon began to rise again, and on June 31 the total immigration was figured at 284,547. —The figures of the Custom House in San Francisco have been collated to show that, out of a total of $6,692,000 paid for duties on imports of foreign goods introduced during the past year, the Chinese merchants paid $1,756,505, or over twenty-five per cent. During the same time the Chinese paid for rent and water privileges $223,000; for fire insurance, $96,000, and for marine insurance, $86,000; they also paid $100,000 in taxes into the city treasury. —In 1875, of 7,643 arrests for drunkenness, not one was a Chinaman; of 3,263 paupers admitted to the almshouse, only six were Chinamen; of 83 murderers hanged during the last year in the United States only one was a Chinaman. —Our antipathy is balanced to some extent by the appetite of Peru, which has 60,000 Chinamen now within its borders, and so eagerly desires more that an agent of the Peruvian Government is visiting San Francisco with inducements to divert Chinese immigration to that country. * * * * * NO ROOM IN THE INN. REV. A. K. SPENCE, FISK UNIVERSITY. The occasion of the accompanying lines was this: While President Hayes’ Peace Policy was being applauded through the land, a young colored student, on his way to Fisk University, was detained overnight at a station, as the trains did not make connection. A hotel was near by, but he could not gain admission. He asked the privilege of remaining in the depot, but that was not granted; so he spent the whole night in the open air, pacing up and down to keep warm and pass the time away. Ought there not to be in every hotel some comfortable place where a colored man can get food and shelter? The weary stars went slowly westward to their rest, And others from the east climbed up the zenith’s crest, And chill winds smote him, shivering in the gloomy night. Turning his wistful gaze to catch the morning light, There, wrapped in sleep, on couches soft and warm, The slumberers dream sweet dreams, nor think of fear or harm. What has he done, with guilty hand and soul of sin, That thus he stalks about, nor seeks the cheerful inn? His brow is dark, and dark the night, and dark his soul— A tripple sea of gloom, whose waters o’er him roll! And faith in man and God is low within his breast; With many a bitter thought his heart is sore oppressed. Like outlawed villain, stealing from the sight of men, He crouches down, as if to sleep, nor slumbers then! Athwart the darkness to his darker soul within, The tantalizing light comes from the inn!