Newspaper Page Text
194
its place. lie then lays the frisket and
tympan down flat upon the form, after
which he takes hold of the handle,
which you will see by referring to the
picture of the press below, and runs
the form underneath the platen. Look
at this same picture, and you will see
what we mean by the platen. The form
is underneath it, ready for the impres
sion. The pressman now takes hold of
the handle of the lever, and pulls it
towards him. This brings the platen
THE “WASHINGTON” PRESS.
down on the sheet of paper, which
covers the form, and the impression is
made. The lever is then allowed to go
back to its place, the bed of the press
is pulled from underneath the platen,
and the printed sheet taken off.
next
week before we visit!, the power-presses.
We shall then find out all about them,
and also learn something about stereo
typing and electrotyping—both of which
processes are much used in preparing
forms for the press.
WETTING THE PAPER.
Happiness.
At.t. happiness of man is derived from
discovering, applying, or obeying the
laws of his Creator; and all his misery
is the result of ignorance and disobedi
ence. — Wayland.
Mankind are always happier for hav
ing been happy; so that if you make
them happy now, you make them happy
many years hence, by the memory of
it. —Sydney Smith.
BURKE’S WEEKLY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.
The Elephant and the Mutineers.
time ago, a very fine spe-
JlMkr cimen of the Asiatic elephant
™ was landed at Southampton.
The animal was an exceedingly fine one
—standing seven feet in height, with
large tusks, and was between three and
four years of age. He was shipped at
Bombay, and was under the charge of
a native of Sumatra, named Ramee
Jhandeegar (familiarly known on
board ship by the term “Ramy”),
to whom .the elephant was much
attached, and who had brought
the huge brute under perfect sub
jection. .
During the first few days after
the ship had cleared the land,
everything went well; but stormy
weather coming on, a spirit of dis
obedience was displayed by some
of the crew. The would-be muti
neers assembled together, one eve
ning, near the wheel-house on the
main deck, close to where the ele
phant was chained, and held coun
cil as to their future proceedings.
The keeper, Ramy, lying at the
side of the animal, feigned sleep,
although he paid attention to what the
wicked men were saying. He heard the
whole details of a plot to murder the
captain and a great portion of the crew
and passengers; and he ascertained
that he himself was one of those who
■ massacred. Th~ett|
wer^ioD^^NuadewhenthefiH|^Bp
b eiJHHHHHNMNNMPMRpas
changed that very night.
No time was to be lost in warning
the captain of the danger; but it was
utterly impossible for Ramy to proceed
to the state cabin without incurring the
greatest possible risk, as he would
have to pass through the midst of
the mutineers, and they would not
have scrupled about killing him at
once. The wily keeper took a dif
ferent course, and, as it turned
out, a wiser one. Noiselessly un
fastening the chain which bound
the elephaut’s legs, Ramy set the
animal at liberty, and springing to
his feet in an instant, he bounded
into the midst of the mutineers,
followed by the elephant. On his
giving a signal to the intelligent
creature, he laid about right and
left with his trunk, and the aston
ished sailors were quickly thrown
down on the deck, wounded and
bleeding, and shouting loudly for
mercy. The captain, hearing the dis
turbance, was soon on the spot, and
had the mutineers put in irons. The
wounds caused by the animal’s trunk
were frightful.
During the voyage the elephant saved
one man from being drowned by seizing
him by his jacket as he was slipping
from otf the bulwarks; and when a
ferocious mastiff was springing at the
throat of the first mate, the elephant
hurled the dog into the ocean.
*
♦ * *
*
*
THE MIDNIGHT CROSS.
IN IDYLS.
The Hut.
fE has doffed his dusty armor I
I see him moving slow
In his furrowed field, a farmer,
i, v-s Os the single horse and hoe !
YrHti) And the sun is blaming warmer
Than a battle-treneh a-glow!
Ilis rusty crooked sabre,
On the wall it hangs unwhet;
But his tools of toil, my neighbor
Keepeth bright and keenly set;
And his back is bowed with labor,
And his soul is dark with debt.
And ever and forever
He walketh in the dread
Os the wound that waketh fever
And the wail that asketh bread;
And his sinews fall ashiver
At the frost upon his head!
There’s a wound athwart his shoulder
From a Beecher-loading gun—
For he said his State was older
Than any U-ni-un!
And they shot him through the shoulder
With a bullet thereupon !
But I have not heard him murmur
At the Heaven’s or other rule!
Nor at any heat of summer
Nor winter rigors cool! —
Nor he did not curse the bummer
That stole his only Mule !
Born to die a-toiling—
And of his duty fond,
The spoiler and the spoiling,
And he leaves your fancy smiling)
At his folly, on your Bond.
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
THE YOUNG- EXPLORERS;
OH, 80Y-MFK IX TEXAS.
BY JOHN C. DUVAL,
Author of “ Jack Dobell; or, A Boy's Ad
ventures in Texas," “ The Adventures
of Big-Foot Wallace," etc
CHAPTER XXIII.
A "Council of War” and Resolve to Return to
Camp—A Good Supper and Good Appetites
—Cud jo Fearful of the Consequences- Uncle
Seth’s Opinion of Polecats, Buzzards and
Rattlesnakes —Cudjo Disgusted —Highland
Terrapins “ Mighty Unsatisfyen ” Uncle
Seth’s Story of the Little Frenchman and his
Sore-eyed Poodle — Where’s Marat?
1 JfNiL S soon as we were ready to
start again, a council of war
'-'N=>-s<h was held, to decide whether
we should continue on to the upper end
of the valley, or return to the camp we
had left. It was the opinion of Uncle
Seth, who had been to the head of the
valley, that we would find the rest of it
to be very similar to the portion we had
travelled over. We concluded, there
fore, to return, as we were anxious to
get into a region of country that had
never been previously visited by white
men. Cudjo, especially, was strongly
in favor of turning back. The “flesh
pots of Egypt” were evidently running
in his head.
“We got a good camp ground, dar,”
urged Cudjo, “and plenty ob turkeys
and arterchokes; and den dar’s dat
bufferlo cow Mr. Pitt kill, dat we’ve got
to tend to.”
“The cayotes have tended to that
long ago,” saickUncle Seth ; “but any
how, I reckon it will be best to go back.
Es we go to the upper end of the valley
we can’t git back to our cairip till to
morrow mornin.”
So turning our horses heads towards
the lower end of the valley, we set out
at a brisk pace for home again.
When we came in sight of the buffalo
Mr. Pitt had killed, we saw that a large
gang of cayotes and other wolves had
gathered about it. They were so intent
upon helping themselves, that they did
not notice us until we were within two
or three hundred yards of them, when
Willie put spurs to his horse and
charged the crowd, compelling them to
beat a hasty retreat. But the greedy
scamps had already devoured the buf
falo bodily—scarcely a pound of flesh
having been left on the carcase. How
ever, the meat Uncle Seth had cut off
and hung up in the tree was all safe,
and taking it down, we divided it among
the parry, and then continued our route
towards camp. Nothing of particular
interest occurred on the way, and just
as the sun was setting we reached the
which
we had ascended the day bernre, on the
top of which Willie’s red Samuel shirt
was still bravely flaunting in the breeze,
and a few moments afterwards, we
trotted into our old quarters, where we
found all our goods and chattels undis
turbed, just as we had left them in the
morning.
Soon after we had staked out the
horses, and made all snug for the night,
Cudjo gave us the pleasing intelligence
that supper was ready, and, nothing
loth, we all gathered around a huge
pile of buffalo steaks, flanked on cue
side by the inevitable coffee pot, and on
the other by smoking platters of “ dun
defunk.” The steaks were splendid,
and the pile diminished so rapidly that
Cudjo was evidently apprehensive that
nothing would be left lor his share but
the platter.
“Fore gracious! Mass Willie,” said
he, as that young gentleman helped
himself for the third time to a chunk
about the size of his foot; “we gwying
to hab brekfus in de mornin’, and I
tink you better knock off for ter-night,
es you don’t want to founder youself.”
“Oh! I don’t care if I do founder
myself,” said Willie, “I’ve got a re
ceipt for that, that never fails to cure ;
I’ve tried it on a dozen horses.”
All hands, however, were at length
satisfied, and still there was more left
than Cudjo could well dispose of, al
though he took his time as usual, and
laid siege to it regularly.
