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sweet. So if we love the blessed Sa
viour wp shall not find it hard to work
for Him. It is love that makes His
yoke easy and His burden light.
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
Georgy’s Curls.
ft?
•sfiL&j *TTLE George is nearly four
years old —almost old enough
ito put on pants, is he not?
He had such glorious auburn ringlets!
Last summer, at the Springs, strangers
gave him the name of “Absalom.”
The little readers must tell us why. I
know many mammas will sympathize
with me in having had to clip Georgy’s
curls off close to his head. Perhaps
the boys, though, will agree'with Georgy
in thinking short hair more manly.
Pardon a mother’s vanity in asking
you to listen to her lament for the loss
of Georgy’s curls.
fITTLE Georgy is shorn of his glory
at last,
By the scissors’ so ruthless touch.
bright curls have become now a
\£\) J thing of the past,
The red curls we admired so much.
Ah, well! that's the way with the things of
earth ;
Here all is transient, vain;
Though a lesson instilled from our very
birth,
’Tis ever to learn again.
The scissors move swiftly, resolved not to
spare;
I listlessly muse the while,
The boy, though, submits with a droll, puz
zled air,
Half sober, half ready to smile.
"Mamma, hold your ear,” as I stooped to
comply
It was whispered in murmured tones low —
**Mamma, are you sorry enough to cry?”
In sooth had I heart to say no ?
’Twere well if no bitterer tears shall be shed
Than those we now brush away,
For the loss of the ringlets, dear George, on
thy head
Which were sacrificed to-day.
The curls, see, are scattered in rings on the
floor ;
Oh, tenderly lay them beside
The relics of lost ones, the cherished of yore,
George’s curls be preserved then with pride.
We shall see them no more save in dreams of
the night.
Where in Fancy's fantastic chain
Are linked shining memories, fraught with
the light
Os days we’ll see never again,
May the dear little boy, so especial a pet
Asa baby with ringlets of gold,
Ne’er cause his fond parents a sigh of regret,
But in manhood ripe virtues unfold.
Ellen Hammond.
University of Virginia.
*.».>
Farmer Plain Talk says his son, j
Harry, is responsible for the following:
44 If a young man wants to call out his j
whiskers, what great painter’s name
can he make use of in so doing ? That j
ofßierdstadt,” (beard-start.)
BURKE’S WEEKLY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
THE ADVENTURES OF
BIG-FOOT WALLACE,
The Texas Ranger and Hunter.
By the Author of “ Jack Dobell; or , A Boy's
Adventures in Texas."
CHAPTER XLI.
A DREARY PROSPECT —NO WATER —DYING
BY THE WAYSIDE —HUNGER AND THIRST
--DREAMING OF WATER-HOPES AND DIS
APPOINTMENTS —CAPTURED BY THE MEX
ICANS —W AT E R AT LAST —WRETCHED
CONDITION OF THE SURVIVORS.
irv v ITH much difficulty, even on
foot, we at length forced our
way up the almost perpendic
ular walls of the mountain that rose up
in the direction we proposed traveling.
When, at length, we had reached the
top, we were appalled by the dreary
prospect that presented itself to our
view. Behind us lay the dismal valley
from which we had just emerged, over
the surface of which, scattered here and
there as they had fallen, lay the dead
carcasses of our animals, looking like
little specks in the distance ; and the
thin columns of smoke, rising up from
some smouldering fires we had left burn
ing, and the naked rocky hills that en
circled it, gave it a remarkable resem
blance to the crater of some slumbering
volcano. Before us, as far as the eye
could extend, mountain after mountain
rose up, rough, rugged and broken, and
the total absence of everthing like veg
etation, too surely indicated that no
water was to be found in the parched
up valleys that lay between them ; and
over all this dismal prospect a burning
sun poured down its scorching rays
from a cloudless sky, with an intensity
that greatly aggravated the thirst from
which we had already begun to suffer
excessively, before the toils of this weary
day had ended.
We were much depressed in spirits
by the barren and desolate appearance
of the country ahead of us ; still there
was no alternative but to go forward,
for we knew if we retraced our steps we
would, inevitably, be recaptured by
our vigilant foes, and anything, we
thought, was preferable to that. And
so we went on all through that weary
day, up one rugged, rocky mountain,
and down, and up another, still hoping
and trusting that in some of the ravines
or canons that lay between them, (for
they could not be called valleys,) we
would, at length, come across a stream
or pool of water sufficient to slake our
thirst—but everywhere we were contin
ually disappointed. N o murmuring
streams rippled over the sandy beds of
the gulches and canons wc passed—all
were parched up, and as dry as if a
drop of rain had not fallen in that drea-
ry region since the days of the flood.
And thus we struggled on till darkness
closed over the scene, when, abandon
ing all hope of finding water that day,
we encamped for the night amongst
the broken rocks and debris at the bot
tom of a deep canon.
In the morning, dispirited and unre
freshed by our comfortless bivouac in
the canon, we again took our toilsome
way over gulches and ravines and up
and down the steep and scraggy sides of
the mountains that everywhere impeded
our progress. And thus we staggered
on for several days in succession through
this desolate wilderness, still hoping for,
but never finding, the cooling stream or
pool of water, in which we longed to
slake the intolerable agonies of thirst
that was consuming our very vitals.
On the morning of the fifth day we
made an early start, in order to get
over as much ground as possible before
the sun should acquire its full power.
But, by the time it had risen above the
tops of the mountains to the eastward
of us, the sufferings of the men became
so intolerable that many of them, to
relieve themselves of all superfluous
weight, threw away their guns and
equipments, and what remained of their
rations of jerked meat —for hunger was
not felt or feared—our whole craving
was for water 1 water ! Many of the
men gave out entirely, and laid down
on the wayside to die, but no one paid
any attention to them, for great suffer
ing, such as we were enduring, is apt
to render men callous and unfeeling to
wards each other. Still the rest of us
struggled on, hoping that our strength
might hold out until we came to water ;
but we toiled up one rugged, barren
mountaiu only to see another as rugged
and barren rise up before us.
The way appeared interminable, and
no change of scenery varied the tire
some monotony or gave us any indica
tion of our approach to the long-wished
for stream or pool of water. Not a tree
nor a sprig of grass was to be seen any
where. Nothing like vegetation, except
in a few localities, where a species of
leafless, withered weed managed, in
some way, to draw a precarious susten
ance from the parched and gravelly
soil. All was barren, desolate and
scorched up by the long continued
drought that had prevailed in that coun
try. Not a living animal was to be seen,
nor was the song of a bird, or even the
chirping of a cricket ever heard during
all our wandering in this wilderness,
which might appropriately have been
termed anything but 44 howling for
even a 4 cayote ’ could not, by any pos
sibility, have existed there for many
days. Night, at length, overtook us
again, and worn out, despairing and
suffering indescribable tortures from
thirst, we threw ourselves upon the
ground to pass away, as best we might,
the wretched hours till morning.
All night long I could hear the men
moaning in their uneasy slumbers, and
crying out for water ! water! I had
heard that by chewing a leaden bullet
thirst could be partially alleviated, and
I tried it upon this occasion, but with
out success. It may afford some relief
when the thirst is not excessive, but in
the extremity to which we were reduced
for the want of water, it did not seem
to have the least effect.
The suffering caused by hunger is not
comparable to that resulting from long
continued thirst. I had rather starve a
week than go two days without water,
in warm weather, especially when com
pelled to travel on foot. Hunger comes
by 44 fits and starts.” There are inter
vals, even after starving for days, when
one is comparatively free from pain or
suffering, and in sleep, one can occa
sionally find temporary relief from its
pangs. But with thirst it is very differ
ent. There is not a moment’s cessation
of the suffering, but, on the contrary, it
increases regularly in intensity, until
the tongue becomes black and swollen
and protudes from the mouth, and the
eyes, blood-shot and bleared, seem as
if they are about to start from their
sockets. Even sleep affords no respite
whatever from this terrible anguish.
Horrible shapes gibber and moan around
the wretched slumberer, and frighten
him away from the gushing spring or
rippling brook, that forever haunt his
mind, waking or sleeping.
One spring in particular haunted me
in my dreams,—one that I had often
frequented in my boyhood’s days, in one
of the gorges of the Blue Ridge in Vir
ginia. It poured out from the mouth
of a small cave, at the foot of a high
bluff, in a bold rivulet larger than my
arm, which ran off through an old mossy
trough six or eight feet long to the edge
of a ravine, down which it pattered and
splashed with a musical sound very
agreeable to the ear of the passer-by on
a hot summer’s day. During my dis
turbed slumbers that night, if I attempt
ed to take a drink at that spring once
I tried it a thousand times, but some
thing always prevented me, just as I
was on the eve of placing my parched
lips to the mossy spout.
In 18—, many years after this, when
I went back to 44 Old Virginia” to see
my relatives, I visited this spring again,
and there it was, still pattering and
splashing down into the ravine below,
just as I had seen it so often in imagin
ation during my wanderings in the
mountains of Mexico ; and I took a
last drink from the mossy spout, though
I was not the least thirsty, just for old
acquaintance sake.
On the morning of the seventh day
after our entrance into these dismal sol
itudes, we resumed our cheerless march
again, or rather, I should say, those of
us that still remained together under
the leadership of Captain Cameron;
for, by this time, many lmd fallen by
the way from exhaustion, and others.