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ammunition used by the Mexicans had been better. The Mexicans, as they after wards admitted themselves, lost upwards of four hundred in killed and wounded. The enemy retired to the timber on our right, leaving squads of cavalry at various points to watch our movements. After night had set in, a long line of fires upon the edge of the forest denoted the position of their encampment. The night was dark and drizzly, which, together with the cries of our wounded, who were suffering greatly for water, produced a dispiriting effect upon the men. If we had had the means of transportation for our wounded, we would have continued our march after night to the timber on the Coletto, but all of our oxen had either been killed during the fight or had es caped to the prairie, where I suppose they were captured by the Mexicans; and as I have stated before, our small party of horse, under Capt. Horton, had been cut off from us in the beginning of the fight, and were unable to regain our lines. Under these circumstances, we had either to abandon our wounded or remain with them and take the chances, and we unani mously chose the latter alternative. «.«■*. Written for Burke's Weekly. THE FAIRY’S SHELL; A Story for Little Boys. BY UNCLE JOE. VERY long time ago — many years before you rJlfT or werc born, little Bm reader, there lived in a JjjL/V f ai >..off country a little wteyjboy named Arthur, who was never satisfied, but who was always com plaining about something or other. He had good, kind parents, and . though the3 r werc poor, and had to work, they gave him plenty to cat and good clothes to wear, and tried to make him good and happy, but for all that he was never content. If his good mother wanted him to bring her some water horn the spring, or fetch her some chips, or kindle the fire for her to cook his din ner, ho would begin to fret, and some times cry, and say lie had more to do than any other little boy in the world. If he went to play with other little boys, he would get mad, and would not play with them unless they would play just as he wanted. And then when his good, kind parents wanted him to go to school, he would and beg them to let him stay at home and play with his little ( log Rover, or make little houses in the sand, or chase the butterflies in the woods. TT It IX E’s \V EEIX L Y . I expect some of my readers will think Arthur was a very naughty boy, and so he was; but 1 am afraid there are many Arthurs in the world yet. Well, one bright day Arthur’s mother told him to take his little basket and go into the forest close by and pick her some berries. How, Arthur was very fond of berries and pies, but just then he was making a little boat to sail in the brook that ran by the house, so he told his mother that it was too far, and that the sun was too hot, and the briars scratched his hands, and had a great many excuses to keep from doing as his mother bid him, for he wanted to play with his little boat. But when lie found that his mother would make him go whether he wanted to or not, he took his basket and went off crying and complaining that his mother made him do everything. lie soon came to the bushes, which were loaded with berries, but instead of making haste to fill his basket, he went from one bush to another, thinking the best ones were always further on. After a while a large butterfly, with wings like gold, sailed by, and he put down his basket.and ran after the gaudy insect. Sometimes the pretty thing would stop on a flower, but just as he was going to catch it, away it would go, and then ho would run again, thinking he would be sure to get it the next time. He was so eager to capture it that he did not notice how far he was going, nor did ho look which way ho w r ent. After a while he came to a large stream, and the butterfly sailed across without so much as bidding the little boy good-bye. Ar thur watched it till it was quite across the river, and then he shook his little fist at it, and said: “Go! you old ugly thing! I wish I was a bird, so I could fly 1 ' after you and eat you up in a minute !” But, as he wa§ not a bird, his cruel wish did not do him any good, so he be gan to think about going back ; but when he looked around, he did not know which way to go, and discovered that he was lost. Arthur was not a bravo boy, and in stead of trying to find his way out of the forest, as some of my little readers would have done, he lay down on the grass and began to cry, and wish he was back at home. Then he saw how bad it was to disobey his mother, for if he had filled his basket quickly, and gone back, he would not have been lost. While he was lying on the ground, pulling up the grass, and crying about his home, he saw the water in the rivor begin to bubble, aiuL presently a little woman rose up out of the water close to him. She had on a pretty green dress, with green leaves bound around her head, and on her arm she had a little basket full of beautiful shells. Arthur was so surprised that he forgot to cry, and sat staring at the little woman, with his eyes wide open with wonder. “Little boy,” said she, “what is the matter ?” “I’m hungry and tired, and lost, and don’t know how to go home,” said he, and then he began to blubber again. “Well, little boy,” said the tiny wo man, “hush crying, and you shall see. your home again. Take this shell and keep it in your pocket, and go the way the wind is blowing, and it will take you to your basket again. But you must never let anybody see the shell, and if you ever lose it, you can never get another one.” * Then she gave him a bright rosy shell out of her basket, and while he was star ing at her she sank down in the water again, and was soon out of sight. Arthur did not know what to think of all this, but the wind began to blow, and he ran as hard as he could, with the shell in his pocket. But it seemed to him that the sun shone brighter, and the birds sang sweeter, and the flowers looked brighter, than ever before. In a little while he found his basket, and then he commenced picking berries as fast as he could, and whistling as gaily as the birds over his head. He soon had his basket full, after which he ran home to his mother, but he did not tell her about the little woman, and the shell, for he was afraid she would take the shell away from him. But a great change came over Arthur, for he left off crying and fretting, and became the happiest little boy in all the country. When his mother told him to do anything, he would run as fast as he could, whistling and singing all the way as happy as a lark. Then, when it was time to go to school, he would take his little tin bucket and his books, and run away to the school-house with a bright face, and when the boys went out to play, he was as gay and cheerful as any of them, so that in a little while there was not a better boy in all the country. He always kept the shell hid, and I sup pose he must have kept it. all his life, for I have heard that he Was never ill and fretful any more, and that he lived to be a very, very old man. Little boys, would you not like to have such a shell? There are no fairies now to givo you one, but you can have one if you wish. It is called Good Nature. 91