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Story for the Children.
Have you ever heard, dear children,
Os “ Sinbad, the Sailor,” bold,
Who from seven perilous voyages
Came back with wealth untold?
If not, be still, and I’ll tell you
Os the time when his vessel brave,
Went down in the deep, blue ocean,
With never a hand to save—
Down, down went the shrieking sailors,
Though cloudless the beautiful sky,
Far down in the ocean’s caverns,
Forever and ever to lie.
But one escaped to do battle
For life on the fearful main;
“ Sinbad, the Sailor,” whose footsteps
Pressed the dry land again !
Bravely fighting the waves, he landed
On a beautiful, emerald isle,
And panting for breath, he sat resting,
And gazing around him the while.
But his eyes grew heavy with slumber,
And soon he was soundly asleep ;
So sound that he saw not a monster
Chuckling and chattering creep
Close up to his side; when springing,
With an active and cat-like bound,
He sat on the sailor’s shoulders,
And ended his sleep profound.
In vain did poor Sinbad struggle
Against the “Old Man of the Sea,”
He only clasped him the closer,
And laughed with a wicked glee.
Thus urging him ever onward—
Giving no time for rest—
Clasping him closer and closer
Round his neck and his breast,
The monster meant to have clasped him
Untiringly night and day ;
Till his strength should fail and desert him,
And a lifeless form he lay.
But happily Sinbad discovered
The old man’s fondness for wine,
And making him drunk, he hastened
His arms from his neck to untwine;
He laid him down, stupidly sleeping,
Then caught a great stone in his hand,
And knocked in the skull of the savage,
And rid a great plague from the land.
MORAL.
And now, little children, I’ll tell you!
From the sides of the path you must tread,
There peep out grim monsters as fearful
As the one whose just end you have read.
They are waiting, some unguarded moment,
To leap unperceived to your breast;
And once there, you’ll never, ah ! never,
Again know the blessing of rest.
At first, they will clasp you but lightly—
So lightly you’ll doubt if they're there,
But after a time they will pierce you
With their death-fangs of woe and despair.
And now, little children, I’ll tell you,
What I think you’ll be anxious to know,
The names of these fierce, wicked monsters,
And to shun them, the way you should go.
They are called “Evil Habits,” and cluster
’Round the wayside of life—a dread band—
And only fall off from their victims,
When they feel the cold touch of death’s hand.
To escape them you must shun the broad meadows
Where the flowers of temptation bloom bright,
And with pure eyes uplifted to Jesus,
Walk erect in the way that is right.
Poolesville, Md. E. Y. C.
sA Boston boy, five years of age,
having stolen a can of milk, his mother
took him to task with moral suasion, and
wound up her discourse by exclaiming:
“ What in the world was you going to
do with the milk anyhow ?”
U I was going to steal a little dog to
drink it, was the crushing reply of the
young hopeful.
BURKE’S VV EEKL Y .
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
MAROONER’S ISLAND;
OR,
Dr. Gordon in Search of his Children.
BY REV. F. R. GOULDING,
Author of the “ Young Marooners .”
CHAPTER XIII.
FRESH SUPPLY OF WATER MAN POISONED,
AND WHAT WAS DONE TO RELIEVE HIM
BIVOUAC ISLAND A-FIRE —EFFORTS
LOSSES AND UNWELCOME VISITORS.
jk out saying a word to
T/Aty interrupt the narrative, signed to
Ip® Wheeler, who was sailing master,
A w 1° not^ce *h e beach, which glisten
* under the bright sky, as if wet
with oozing water. Wheeler called to it
Tomkins’ attention, and the boat was
headed shorewards.
The bows grated upon the sand of the
beach just as Thompson uttered the last
words of his story, and, although Jones
seemed to be brimful of something saucy
which he intended to say, and although
he did find time, as the men shipped the
oars, to ask whether any “Irish whisky
was to be had between Charleston and
Savannah?” there was no time left for
their usual pleasantries, for the whole
crew were immediately ordered ashore to
look for fresh water. An abundant sup
ply of this was soon found, and very good
it was, but how to get it into the runlet
was a question, for the sands were so
quick that they instantly filled any basin
that was scooped. After having tried
many times and places in vain, Wildcat
ran to the barge and brought thence a
closely-woven cane basket, such as is
found in every Indian’s lodge, washed it
clean, and sunk it in the sand where the
best water was to be obtained. It proved
an excellent curb, and kept back the sand
sufficiently long for the keg to be filled.
On returning to the boat, all observed
that Simpson looked very pale and sick.
Indeed, he was seriously ill, being afflict
ed with an incontrollable nausea, and
wearing an expression of great distress.
No sooner had he reached the boat than
he addressed Dr. Gordon, saying:
Captain, unless you can do something
to help me, I’m afeerd you will soon have
a dead man aboard.”
“Indeed,” returned the doctor; “what
is the matter?”
“I’m afeerd I’m pisoned,” he replied.
“ Why do you fear so?” the Doctor
asked.
“You know,” said Simpson, “I’ve not
been myself since yesterday midday.—
When we landed for water, I thought I
would take a dose of physic that I carry
in money wallet, and that always
helps me. But thar’s a paper of rat pison
there too, exactly the same in looks, and
put up in exactly the same way as the
other; and I’m afeerd I have taken a
dose from the wrong paper, for besides
this dreadful sickness and vomiting, thar’s
a burning pain right h’yur,” laying his
hand on his stomach, “and it grows worse
every minute.”
Dr. Gordon saw that the case was ur
gent, and therefore adapted his means
accordingly, for the man had swallowed
arsenic , and any means adopted to save
his life, if that were possible, must be
used without delay. He, therefore, ask
ed that the departure of the boat should
be delayed, and ordered a fire kindled,
and made the man swallow pint after
pint of melted lard, (this being the only
oily matter on hand,) then of fiour and
water, and of mustard and salt, all tepid,
until he had taken enough to have satia
ted an ox, had it not been rejected from
the stomach almost as soon as received.
In the course of half an hour, he pronoun
ced the man free from immediate danger,
though still liable to severe effects from
the irritation of the poison.
Tomkins, in the name of the men,
thanked him for his prompt assistance,
and for the valuable information furnish
ed them by his treatment of a case which,
though rarely occurring, is always possi
ble, and which few people know how to
treat.
“My success,” said the Doctor, “is to
be attributed in part to the action of the
poison itself, in causing its own expulsion.
It is said to be for this reason that while
a small dose of arsenic will kill a dog, a
large dose will seldom harm him.”
“ What was your object in giving him
the lard?” asked Tomkins.
“ It was for the double purpose,” he re
plied, “of coating the stomach with grease,
and of acting as a quick and powerful
emetic. It has been often noticed that
fat hogs may swallow arsenic in doses
either large or small, and may even be
bitten by rattlesnakes, with impunity.
It’s grease, when abundant, seems to pro
tect the parts from p>oison.”
“ And would you treat all cases oi poi
son in this way ?”
“Were I required to answer Yes oriSo
to this question, I should answer Yes,” ho
replied, “for this is the almost universal
rule, but some cases require particuhu