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refractive power that the diamond owes
its wonderful’brilliancy. Gases are not
so highly refractive as liquids; but
their density may be augmented, and
their refractive power increased, by
compression.
“ At our next meeting, we shall have
something to say of Atmospheric Re
fraction. For the present, I must wish
you good night.”
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
LITTLE TOTTT,
BY MRS. MARY E. M’kINNE.
CHAPTER I.
\ afternoon, Mrs. Dayton,
finding her supply of soda
h er little daughter to
take Cora and go down to the store, and
ask papa to send her up some. “And
make haste, dear,” she said, “Aunt
Hannah will want it to put in the bis
cuits for tea.”
Totty ran with alacrity to get her
bonnet, for she dearly loved to go to
the store, where she was always sure to
be treated to candy and nuts by her in
dulgent father and the clerks.
But, unfortunately for Aunt Hannah’s
tea cake3 and the equanimity of her
rrau washed white as snow, and the
large grains, now shining and sparkling
in the bright rays of the declining sun,
looked like seed pearls and diamonds.
Simultaneously, the two children stop
ped, and almost before they knew it,
went to making marks in the snowy
sand.
“It is so much nicer than a slate,”
said Totty. “ Here is as good a ‘a’ as
anybody can make, not ’cepting Miss
Slocoum. Cora, don’t it feel beautiful
to your bare feet? I b’lieve I’ll pull
off my shoes und stockings.”
And forthwith, off' they came.
How soft and warm the sand felt!
They sat down, and piled up great
heaps —made mill dams and mountains
—dug out wells and ditches —built Hot
tentot villages, and bought and sold
sugar and salt in pine bark and oyster
shell dishes. Then Totty, like a good
mother, bethinking herself of the small
family upstairs, made a bed for Sera
phina Josephine, and a cradle for An
gelica the baby, and bade Cora run
back to the house and fetch them, in
order to see how their respective couch
es would answer. Cora, being just then
busily engaged in the construction of a
gopher hole—her foot serving for a go
pher (not an inapt representation, by
the-bye)—paid little heed to the man
date, which so exasperated the imperi
ous little lady, that she took up a
handful of sand and threw it into her
companion’s face.
“Oh! my eye! my eye!” shrieked
BURKE’S WEEKLY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.
Cora; “it’s clean put out, and I
never’ll see another wink. Oh! my
eye! my eye! ”
“Hush, Cora; I never went to —I
mean, I’m mighty sorry; and I’ll never
do so no more long as I live. Please,
Cora, don’t cry.” And putting her arms
round the dusky neck of her playfellow,
she attempted to soothe her.
But Cora was not to be pacified ; her
yells increased in vehemence every min
ute ; it being evidently her intention to
attract somebody’s notice to the scene
of action.
“ My eye’s clean put out! ” she con
continued to vociferate at the top of
her voice ; “ and I’ll tell missis, ’thout
I die!”
“Cora,” said Totty, in great per
plexity, “don’t tell, and I’ll give you
my gold dollar, old Santa Claus gived
me last ’trismus. I will, you see’f I
don’t.”
“Will you now, sure’nough?” said
Cora, brightening up wonderfully, con
sidering her eye was “clean gone.”
“ Miss Totty, you isn’t trying to fool me
now, is you ? ”
“I ’clare I won’t,” asseverated her
young mistress; “I’ll get it for you
this very night, while mamma’s at tea;
’clare 1 will. So don’t cry no more,
Cora, that’s a good girl.”
“O! but won’t missis be fur’us!
My stars!” exclaimed Cora, holding
up her hands.
tell,” replied Totty.
“I never tells when I steals,” said
Cora, with a contemptous toss of her
head ; “ pretty fool I’d be! ”
“Yes; but this ain’t stealing,” said
Totty, indignantly; “the gold dollar
’longs to me.”
“ W —e —11, if you’s sure missis won’t
whip me if she finds it out,” replied
Cora, rather dubiously. “ I know she
ain’t goin’ do nothing ’tall to you, ’cause
mammy say —”
“ Mammy says what? ”
“She says you’s sp’ilt till all the salt
in the sea can’t save you. She says if
you was a child o’ hern, she’d chastise
you till the cows comes home. She
says—”
“Hush your mouth! I don’t care
what old ugly mammy says. Buddy
said she was ’ceitful. But, Cora, your
eye’s got well, ain’t it?”
“ No, ’deed it haven’t. Oh! my
poor eye! ” and clapping both hands
to her face, her yells began afresh.
“But, Miss Totty,” suddenly, “hadn’t
you better let me get the money? Missis
mought ’spicion something if you was
missing from the supper table, ’cause
you know you’s mighty reg’lar at meal
times. Leastways, you mought fall to
sleep, and forget all about it.”
“But, Cora, you wouldn’t know
where to find it.” said Totty.
“Trust me for that!” with a sly
twinkle out of one corner of the hurt
eye. “ I’s been in missis’ money box
many times’ I got fingers and toes.
Mammy showed me where it was. But
la’s a mercy ! mammy ’ll kill me dead!
Come, Miss Totty, make haste and put
on your shoes and stockings ; the sun’s
’most down, and we got half mile
to go.”
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
The Dahlia, Rose and Lily.
A FABLE.
< WHITE Lily, a Moss Rose,
and a crimson Dahlia grew
s j^ e ky gicjg ; n tj, e garden of
a King. Through all the pleasant days
of spring and early summer they had
enjoyed together the bright sunshine,
the soft breeze, the gentle dews, and
refreshing showers. A warm friend
ship had sprung up between the Lily
and the Rose. The Rose loved to look
upon the graceful, snowy cups of the
Lily ; and the Lily was so eloquent in
her praises of the fragrance and beauty
of fair blooms, that a rosy
blush tinged the cheek of each modest
bud, as she peeped shyly from the folds
of her delicate mossy veil.
Nor were the Rose and Lily selfish
in their natures, but would gladly have
welcomed the Dahlia to share their
friendship.- ‘ This proud plant held her
self stiffly aloof, however, and bade her
‘—*emm
\ \ • •i
o( their plainer companions.
One bright morning, a bloom of sur
passing loveliness appeared upon each
parent-stalk. While each rejoiced in
the beauty of her offspring, she trem
bled at the thought that the hand of
the passer-by might pluck her treasure,
and sighed —“If I could but know the
fate of my lovely child ! ”
“Rose,” said a zephyr, which was*
passing by, “ I will, in return for the
delightful perfume with which your fair
bud has laden me, linger by her side
wherever she may go, and will faith
fully return and tell you of her fate,
whatever it may be.”
A butterfly, clad in purple and gold,
who had poised himself lightly upon
the gorgeous Dahlia, heard the kind
words of the zephyr, and gaily ex
claimed: “Since you have furnished
me a throne so worthy of my beauty,
I will follow your queenly child, and
you shall hear in what scenes her life
is spent.”
Then a sunbeam, which had nestled
in the Lily’s snowy cup, whispered—
“ You, too, gentle Lily, shall have
tidings of your pure blossom, ere I re
treat again beyond the western hills.”
Scarcely had the three plants mur
mured their thanks, when the voices of
the Queen and her ladies were heard.
They came nearer, and at last reached
the spot where bloomed the beautiful
Rose, Lily and Dahlia. Their admira
tion was unbounded. The King, who
accompanied them, gently severed the
flowers from their stems, and presented
them to the Queen, who held them ten
derly in her hand, enjoying the per
fume of the Rose, the purity of the
Lily, and the brilliant colors of the
Dahlia. Upon entering the palace, a
noble lady presented a marble vase,
filled with sparkling water, to the
Queen, who bade her place her favor
ites where she could still inhale their
sweetness and behold their beauty.
But it was not long before the Queen
observed that one of her maids looked
sad, and sometimes wiped a tear from
her eye. She kindly inquired the cause
of her sorrow.
“ I have a dear friend,” said the
lady, weeping, “and she had two chil
dren, twins, who were two summers
old ; so sweet and fair they were, in
looks and disposition, that every one
called them ‘Lily’ and ‘Rose. 7 But
these cherubs sickened ; and last even
ing, at sunset, they died. So tenderly
did they love each other, that even
cruel Death would not separate them,
but plucked both lovely blooms at
once. The sorrowing mother cannot
be comforted! ”
Then a tear of pity moistened the
good Queen’s eyes. She hastened to
lift the Rose and Lily from the vase.
“ Go to your friend,” she said ; “ tell
her of my heart-felt sympathy ; bear
her these matchless flowers ; and bid
they were fashioned, has promised that
her own lovely blossoms shall live for
ever in His blest paradise, where pain
and death are not known.”
And as the sorrowing mother laid the
Lily and Rose in the cold, white hands
of her darlings, she smiled through her
tears, and murmured, “He doeth all
things well.”
At evening, the zephyr and the sun.
beam returned to the garden, and whis
pered to the parent Rose and Lily, that
their lovely blossoms sent an affection
ate adieu, and declared they were con
tent to die, since it had been their
sweet mission to comfort a mourning
heart; and the parent plants reward
ed the kind messengers with grateful
smiles.
Though the perfect form and rich co
lor of the Dahlia received a full share
of praise, so long as the subtle sweet
ness of the Rose and Lily called atten
tion to the contents of the vase, when
they were removed she received little
notice ; and the next morning was cast
aside to make room for a cluster of
fresh roses. But the proud parent
plant, who waited in vain the return of
the gay, fickle butterfly, knew nothing
of her fate.
Moral. —Gentleness and goodness,
represented by the sweet Rose and the
pure Lily, rather than pride, emblem
of the showy Dahlia, enable their pos
sessor to fulfill a noble destiny.
Annit Lizzie.