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142 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