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the air to a great height, (no matter how
strong the breeze may be blowing,) which
spreads out at the top like an umbrella,
an d remaining stationary for a moment,
as suddenly disappears, to be answered
by another twenty, thirty, or forty miles
distant. They are, no doubt, intended as
signals by the Indians, to warn others of
the proximity of their foes, and to indi
cate their own position. I have sought
information upon the subject from the
oldest and most experienced frontiersmen
as to the manner in which these signal
smokes are made by the Indians, but none
of them could explain satisfactorily how
they were made to rise perpendicularly
in the air, no matter how strong or in
what direction the wind might be blow
ing. I have occasionally seen as many
as half a dozen of these columns of smoke
rising up in various quarters at the same
time.
To-day, for the first time, I saw a “tar
antula,” —a large and exceedingly venom
ous spider, that haunts the dry and ele
vated prairies of the west. They are not
often seen in the timbered country, or in
the vicinity of settlements. Their bodies
are as large as a goose’s egg, and are cov
ered with long hair or bristles. They
have two crooked fangs protruding from
the upper jaw, much resembling those of
the rattlesnake, and about as large.—
When provoked, they are very pugna
cious, rising upon their hind legs and
springing towards their assailant five or
six inches at a time, in successive leaps.
The Mexicans say their bite is certain
death, and after once having seen them,
one can easily credit the assertion.
To-day I made but little, if any, pro
gress, for not long after I started, it cloud
ed up and commenced misting rain, so
that I lost sight of the timber towards
which I was steering my course. Final
ly* I g°t completely bewildered, and after
wandering about all day, I came to a belt
of timber, which I had every reason to
believe was the same from which I had
started in the morning. At any rate, the
sun just then made its appearauce from a
bank of clouds in which it was setting,
and I discovered that I was traveling in
a course directly opposite to the one I
should have pursued. It was too late to
take the prairie again, so I picked out a
suitable place for my camp, started a fire
and cooked some of my meat for supper,
which, for the want of salt, was rapidly
becoming too much tainted to suit the
taste of any but a Frenchman. During
the night I was again serenaded by a
gang of wolves, but they were less impu
dent than upon the former occasion, and
did not approach near enough to enable
BURKE’S WEEKLY.
me to salute them with my fire brands.
In the morning I rose betimes, and un
packing all the meat I had left, I spitted
it upon sticks and roasted it before the
fire, so as to preserve it as long as possi
ble for future use. The clouds had blown
off, the sun shone out warm and clear,
and having eaten a part of my roasted
pork, I took what was left, and again
struck out across the open prairie. This
time I made the trip without difficulty,
and about midday came to the timber
bordering upon a small stream, called, as
I afterwards learned, the “ Tres Pala
cios.” llow it acquired the name I know
not, for I am very sure I saw no palaces
in its vicinity where I crossed it. Where
I struck it, I noticed a few small cedar
trees growing near the water, and I de
termined to cut one of them down, and
try my hand at manufacturing a bow.
So I set to work, and with much labor
succeeded in felling one of them with mj r
broken drawing knife, which I had care
fully carried all the time in my belt.—
From this I took off a cut six feet in
length, which I split into four pieces with
a wooden wedge, and a stick of heavy
wood as a substitute for a maul. From
these I selected the one that was freest
from knots and other defects, out of which
by “patience and perseverance,” with the
aid of my broken drawing knife, I manu
factured a very respectable bow. Arrows
I knew I could easily get upon the banks
of any of the streams in the country. By
the time my bow w T as finished, night had
set in, and I pitched my camp near the
“ Tres Palacios,” in a little open space not
much larger than an ordinary room, com
pletely environed by a dense growth of
underwood. Here I built my fire, warm
ed over some of my roasted pork, and af
ter making my supper upon it, I turned
in to sleep upon a bed of Spanish moss,
which I gathered from a tree near by.
♦♦♦
Don’t Write There.
“ Don’t write there,” said someone to
a lad who was writing with a diamond
pin on a pane of glass in a window.
“ Why ?” said he.
“ Because you can’t rub it out.”
There are other things which men
should not do, because they cannot rub
them out. A heart is aching for sympa
thy, and a cold, perhaps a heartless word
is spoken. The impression may be more
durable than that of a diamond upon the
glass. The inscription on the heart may
last forever.
On many a mind and many a heart sad
inscriptions are deeply engraved, which
no effort can erase. We should be care
ful what we write on the minds of others.
Different Kinds of Givers.
HOPPING a cent into the
missionary box, a little
\ rapMHI boy, who had plenty of
Wjip them, laughed as he did
so. lie had no thought
in his heart about Jesus, the heath
en, or the missionary. a
tin penny. It was as light as a scrap
of tin.
Another boy put a penny in, and as he
did so looked round with a self-applaud
ing gaze, as if he had done some great
thing. His was a brass penny. It was
not the gift of a “lowly heart,” but of a
proud spirit.
A third boy gave a penny, saying to
himself—“ I suppose I must, because all
the others do.” That was an iron penny.
It was the gift of a cold, hard heart.
Asa fourth boy dropped his penny in
the box no shed a tear, and his heart said,
“Poor heathen ! I’m sorry they are so
poor, so ignorant, and so miserable.”—
That was a silver penny. It was the gift
of a heart full of pity.
But there was one scholar who gave his
cent with a throbbing heart, saying to
himself: “For thy sake, 0 loving Jesus,
I give this penny, hoping that the poor
heathen, whom Thou lovest, will believe
in Thee, and become Thy disciples.”—
That was a golden penny, because it was
the gift of love.
How many of our young readers give
golden pennies ? — Spirit of Missions.
Three Important Things.
Three things to love —courage, gentle
ness and affection.
Three things to admire —intellectual
power, dignity and gracefulness.
Three things to hate—cruelty, arro
gance, and ingratitude.
Three things to delight in—beauty,
frankness, and freedom.
Three things to wish so—health,
friends, and a cheerful spirit.
Three things to pray so—faith, peace,
and purity of heart.
Three things to like—cordiality, good
humor, and mirthfulness.
Three things to avoid— idleness, loqua
city, and flippant jesting.
Three things to cultivate—good books,
good friends, and good humor.
° Three things to contend for—honor,
country, and friends.
Three things to govern—temper, con
duct, and tongue.
Three things to think about —life,
death, and eternity.
__ ♦♦♦
fisar* It is good to be kind to brutes, lest
we learn to be cruel to men.
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