But not always can a church be had for Mass. In some places a room in a private house is all that can be obtained, and the Catholics of the neighborhood, having been warned by letter of the intended service, assemble at the appointed hour. The priest will sit in one room to hear confessions, whilst the people wait in an adjacent one, where a sideboard or table is prepared as an altar. After Mass will often follow baptisms, marriages, or confirmations. But the great work before the church in Jamaica now is to form stations with churches where Mass may be celebrated at stated times. Several such are already established, and things are better than formerly, when the Holy Sacrifice had often to be offered up in the houses of Protestants. But much has yet to be done, and there is good reason to hope that the time will come when the small Jamaica church will develop into a flourishing diocese. In spite of the prevalent indifference as to religion, some of the Protestants are beginning to see that truth is not to be obtained in their conflicting sects, and they are turning their eyes Romeward in search of peace. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ MARGUERITE. “Frogs, fresh frogs! Buy a few frogs!” cried a sweet girl’s voice, which blended strangely with the other sounds and voices round about the little booth near Fulton Market. “Frogs, fresh frogs!” “Ride up, gentlemen, ride up!” “Move on quick, move on!” “Look out, mister, or I’ll run over you!” And on the ’buses and drays and express-wagons rumbled and rolled, and the policeman screamed himself hoarse trying to keep the great thoroughfare clear; the mud, which was knee-deep, flew in all directions, the jaded horses floundered and fell in the grimy slough, and ’twas Pandemonium indeed just here where pretty Marguerite’s frog-stand stood. But the girl, who was used to the bustle and din, went on quietly knitting a stocking and calling out, “Frogs, fresh frogs! Buy a few frogs!” while her words, like a strain of sweet music, floated away upon the muggy April air, heavy with oaths and villanous cries. We have called our heroine pretty; yet this was not strictly true. Many a young woman passed through the market with more beautiful features than she had. Her nose was of no particular shape—we might term it a neutral nose—and her mouth was decidedly broad; while the tall, white cap she wore gave her a quaint, outlandish appearance that made not a few people stare and smile. But Marguerite’s eyes redeemed, ay, more than redeemed, whatever was faulty in the rest of her countenance. Oh! what eyes she had—so large and black and lustrous. Like two precious stones they seemed; and when she turned them wistfully upon you, you were fascinated and rooted to the spot, and if the girl ever sold any frogs it was thanks to those wonderful eyes.