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The Garden of the Heart. Listen, children, to a story, Which in simple rhymes I tell, Os a little girl called Nora, And a wicked little Nell. Nora made a bed of flowers, In a pretty garden plot— Raked and sowed in morning hours, Ere the sun was high and hot : Planted seeds of morning-glory, Johnny-jump-up, prince’s feather— Rut t’would be too long a story, All the seeds she got together, Soon the plants came upward peeping; Nora thought her work was done— Gave her morning hours to sleeping Left her flowers to rain and sun. Wicked Nell, while Nora nestles Lazily in bed of down, Sows of cockles and of thistles, Thickly all the garden round. These, wide-spreading, choked and smothered, All the tender little flowers ; Nora, sorely vexed and bothered, Grieved and wept each day, for hours ; For instead of prince’s leather, Johnny-jump-ups, morning glories, Thistles, cockles, thick together, Filled this garden plot of Nora’s ! Children’s hearts are little gardens, Made for flowers of truth and love ; But unless the heart has wardens, Night and day, who faithful prove, Foes will come, in hours unheeded, Sowing thickly error’s seeds; And the heart, unwatched, unweeded, Will hut grow a crop of weeds. Children, watch the wicked sowers ; Pull the weeds out every day ; Little hearts can bloom with flowers, Only when they watch and pray. Isaac Errett. A Thrilling Adventure. RT was about the year 1805 that I settled in Virginia, near the falls of the Ka nawha. The country at that time was an unbroken less. But few settlements en made by the whites, and ere so far apart as to render . —. hopes of assistance in case of an attack from hostile Indians, num bers oi whom still infested the neighbor hood. I lived there alone with my wife for several months unmolested, and by hint of perseverance, then young and hardy, had succeeded in making quite a clearing in the forest, which I planted with corn, and which promised an abun dant yield. One morning, after w T e had dispatched our tumble meal, and I just prepared to venture forth upon my accustomed rou tine of labor, my attention was arrested the tinkling of a cow bell in tbe corn field. “ There,” said my wife, “the cow is in the corn field.” but the ear of the backwoodsman be oomes by education very acute, especially fi°m the fact that his safety often de- BURKE’S WEEKLY. pends upon the nice cultivation of that sense. I was not so easily deceived. The sound was repeated. “ That,” said I, in reply to my wife’s remark, “ was not the tinkle of a bell upon the neck of a cow, but a decoy from some Indian, Avho wish es to draw me into an ambush.” Believing this to be the case, I took down my old musket, and seeing that it was properly loaded, I stole cautiously around the field towards the spot from which the sound seemed to proceed. As I suspected, there in a clump of bushes crouched an Indian, waiting for me to appear in answer lo his decoy bell, that he might send a fatal bullet to my heart. I approached without discovering myself to him until within shooting dis tance, then raised my piece and fired. The bullet sped true to its mark, and the Indian fell dead Not knowing but that he was accom panied by others, I returned with all speed to the cabin, and having firmly bar ricaded the door, I watched all day for the companions of the Indian I had killed. To add to the danger and seeming hope lessness of my situation, I discovered that I had but one shot left, and if attacked by numbers, I should be entirely in their power. Determined to do the best with the powder, I put it into the musket and then waited for the approach of night, feeling sure of an attack. Niudit came at last. A beautiful moon light it was, too, and favored me greatly, as I would thereby be able to observe the movements of the enemy as they ap proached the cabin. It was some two hours after nightfall, and yet 1 had neither heard nor seen a sign of the Indians, when suddenly I was startled by the baying of my dog at the stable. The stable stood a little to the west of the cabin, and between the two was a patch of clear ground, on which the light of the moon fell unobstructed. Judging from the noise at the stable that they would advance from that direction, I posted myself at the port hole on that side of the cabin. I had previously placed my wife on the cross pole in the chimney, so that in case our enemies effected an entrance into our cabin, she might climb out through the lower chimney and effect her escape. For myself I entertained no hope; but deter mined to sell my life dearly. With breathless anxiety I waited at the port hole. At length I saw them emerge from the shadow of the stable, and advance across the open ground to ward my cabin. One —two —three great heaven! six stalwart Indians, armed to the teeth, and urged on by the hope of revenge, and I alone to oppose them with one charge of powder. My case was des perate, indeed. With quick and stealthy steps, in close, single file, they approach ed, and were already within a few yards of the house when a slight change in the movement of the forward Indian changed the position of the six, so that a portion of the side of each was uncovered. They were in range, and one aim would cover all. Quick as thought I aimed and fired. As the smoke .cleared way I could hardly credit what my senses showed me was the result of my shot. The fifteen slugs with which I had loaded the mus ket had done their work well; five of the six Indians lay dead upon the ground, and the sixth had disappeared. Although no enemies were now in sight, I did not venture forth until morn ing. There la} T the bodies of the five In dians undisturbed, together with the rifle of the other. Securing the arms and am munition of the fallen Indians, I followed up the trail of the missing one until I reached the river, beyond which point I could discover no trace whatever. From the amount of blood which marked his trail, together with an unmistakable evi dence that he had picked his way with difficulty, I was led to believe that he was mortally wounded, and in order to prevent his body falling into the hands of the white foe, he had groped his way to the river, and thrown himself in the cur rent which had borne it away. The Indians had killed my cow, and that, you may be assured, was no trifling loss, yet in my gratitude for my escape from the merodes savages, I would have made greater sacrifices. I was well pro vided by means of arms and ammunition taken from the six Indians, in case of a second attack, but this fortunately proved to be my last adventure with the savages. Not one of the band had escaped to tell the tale and incite his brethren to re venge the death of his comrades. “Ah!” exclaimed the old man, while the tears gushed from his eyes at the memory of that eventful night, “ that was a glorious shot —the best I e\ ei made.” Little things sometimes produce great results. A drop of water a little frosted will explode the mammoth rock in twain, a match will fire a whole city, and a little busy body gossip of a woman with a little tongue and no brains will set a whole neighborhood by the ears. . jgggr Many have been victorious in great temptations, and ruined by little ones. 151