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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. 167