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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.