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The LU tie lloaeblMek.
•n> nine yror* oM! an' you can't giww* how
much I wwigb, t brt'
>j«K blrthlr-T I weighed thirty three, tin’ I
w«i<h thirty yet'
I’m awful Utile for my alm—l'm port' high
UtUer an
Home bahim i-. an neighbor* all call* mo "the
little man"
An' !> >' OW time lielaugM an mid. "I qwt
ilr*< tb:ng you know.
You'll bare a little «plko tall coat an' travel
with a abowl"
An’ nen 1 laughed till 1 looked round and
Aunty was a errin'—
tteiioUinaa atie art* liko that, 'rauaa I got
“Curv’tore of the uplno!"
1 net while aunty* washing- on my Httlo
long log "tool,
An' walrh the little Ixiyi an' girl* a sklftpin'
by to School.
An' I Jieck on the winder an' holler out ate
any:
“Who w nta U> fight the little man ‘at ilarea
you all to day f
An’ nen the lioya climb* on the fmire. an' lit
tle girla jwk* through,
An'they all »ay ‘"< 'au*e you're no big, you
think we're 'feared o' youT
An' nen they yell, an' ahako their fiat at me,
like I abake mine -
Tbe’re Uniat In fun, you know, '<-an«a I got
"curv’turn of the spina!”
At evening, when the Ironin’* done, an
auntr'a final the fire.
An' flllial an lit the lamp, ami trimmed the
wick iui' turned it higher,
An'fetcheil the wool all In fer night, an'
locked th* kltx'lii'ii door,
An' stuff**! the ole < rack where the wind
blow* in up through tile fl.-sir
Nlw ret* the kittle on the coala, an* bile* an' |
inak** t lir U a,
An’ frio Uw Uver an’ mu »h, an’ cook* a egg
fcr ma,
An’ •ofneUni**, when 1 cough no hard, her .
oldorlMNTy win*
Don’t go *o bad h r little l»oy with “curv’turr
of the N|»ine!”
Butaunty’ii all so childish, like, on my ac
count, you *<•,
I’m most afoaiod Kite'll !«• took down, an’ ’at*
what tiotbani m<»
’(Mumaf my good ole aunty ever would get
sick an' di*,
1 don’t know what sh<* d do in heaven, till J
conic, by an’ by,
For sho’s so list Io all my ways, an’ every
thing, you know,
An’no ono A»iv like m<', to nunm, an’ worry
ovar wo,
’(.’auMi all th<» little chlnlr-'n** thora’a s<»
straight an’ strong, an* fine,
Tlicy’a nary angH ’I wait the place with
“curv’turv of •>»<» ipino.”
./ ll’. HUey hi the Current
THE LAST STRAW.
Mrs. Hlni'k «n» next neighbor to the
Pepper* when they bought their cottage
at Beaview, and on the very fleet night
aho tumbled over the scattered bits of
furniture in tlie passage and appeared in j
their midst unexpectedly to lairrow a lit
tie suit. She suid it was nice to have J
neighbor* again, and that Mr*. Pepper
looked no tweet the knew ahi' wouldn't
mind.
At midnight she roused them from their
slumber* to inquire if they had any chol
era medicine, for little Peter had been
eating too ninny green apples mid she
thought he would die. She said she was
tluuikful Mm Pepper had moved in, mid '
that but for that circumstance she might
have lout her darling. Mrs. Pepper was
thankful, too, mid tlie two women em
braced witli tears. Then Mrs Shirk bor
rowed some mustard for n plaster.
The next day she sent Peter, fully re
covered and with his pockets full of
green fruit, to ask for the ax, tlie handle
having come off theirs; ulso a rolling-pin.
Fortunately the l*rp|M'rs possessed
three ales and two rolling pins, so tiny
did not feel disturbed by the fact that
the articles were never returned. But
after a short interval tilled by loans of
coal, potatoes, bread mid < heese, Mrs.
Black came herself to borrow the folding
table, a pair of scissors, the pattern of a
basque, and a low rocking-chair. She
was going to make some dresses, mid if
Mrs. Pep|M-r would step over ami tit hc r
she'd lie much obliged.
Mrs. Pepper did it mid made the but
ton holes, too Mrs Slack never could
learn to make u button hole. The tabic,
the scissors, the rocking-chair, mid the
juitteru all remained nt Mrs. Slack’s.
The next week Mrs. Slack borrowed a
mantle and a water-proof.
Mrs. Pepper by this time grew bold
enough to beg that she would send them
home when she returned.
Mrs. Slack said "Os course," with
aome offense, but when Peter was next
•een it was not to bring back those arti
cles. What he wanted was the baby
carriage and a market basket.
Christmas time came and with it cards
for a party. The Slacks so ho|x-d they'd
all come and enjoy themselves.
Having accepted what was more natu
ral than to take an interest in the pro
eroding*—to lend sugar aid ice-cream
freeser, butter, and the egg beater, the
cut-glassgoblets and the best table-cloths,
the spice-bc.x entire, and lots of other
things! Finally Mrs. Slack, with her
gown tucked up and her eyes sparkling,
ran it to say that they thought a dance
would be nice and could Mrs. Pepper
spare the piano for one evening!
"There's nobody to move it," said
Mrs. Pepper, rejoiced to have an excuse.
“Pm so sorry."
Mix black laughed and went to the
window. Four big laborer* speared
and without any preliminary directing
shouldered the instrument and lugged it
away. They bumped it against railing*
and fairly tumbled it down in a plowed
field before they fluuhed their uiissioQ,
but by main strength they got it st last
to the Black's door and Mrs. Black took
her leave, carrying tlie piano stool and
cloth herself.
The appearance of hcr lieloved piano
gave Mr*. Pepper n great deal of unhap
piness that evening. It had a deep
scratch on the cover and one of the keys
wouldn’t lift. However, she played
waltzi** ami rets for the lancers most of
the evening,and a* the company went in
to supper in relays—old folks first and
young folk* last, a- Mrs. Slack said- she
found very little left but a cup of coffeu
and a turkey-lxme when her duties were
done.
But there is an end to everything.
One day she saw Mr*. Slack driving up
the road in the minister's new buggy.
She was wearing the pretty mantilla «he
had borrowed of her. With her usual lit
tle giggle she stopped at tlie garden gat".
Mr Pepper hail taken a holiday and
was lying in the hammock reading. His
wife had hcr sewing under the oak trees
and was extremely happy and comforta
ble. If Mr*. Sleek had come to ask her
to drive she hid resolved not to go. She
would say: "My husband ha* so few
holidays 1 cannot leave home to-day.”
But Mr*. Slack did no such thing.
"You dear, good soul!'’ she cried, ns
soon as she was within “peaking distance,
"I came to borrow your husband.”
"Borrow irhatV' ejncalatcd Mrs. Pep
l"' r ' .
"Your husband," said Mrs. Slack,
“Slack's in New York ; I am going to a
a picnic; 1 want mi escort and some one
to drive. May I have him?"
"You ought to ask Mr. Pepper him
self,” sai<l Mr*. Pepper, very coldly.
"I shan't,” said Mrs. Black, playfully,
“J came to borrow him of you. You’ll
lend him, won't you? and I shall tell
every one that dear, good angel, Mrs.
Pepper, lent me hcr husband.”
"You insist I slud) answer,Mr*.Slack,"
Mrs. Pepper answered.
"Yes,” lisped Mrs. Slack, “you’ll lend
him, won't you?"
"No!" said Mrs. Pepper in a very de
cided tone, “1 am afraid I shouldn’t get
him back. I let you have my piano.
That hasn’t been returned. My water
proof where is that? My baby's car
riage -your baby takes air in it now.
My < utting-board and scissors, my roll
ing pin, mi I all the rest, I haven't seen.
But I promised to cleave unto my hus
band till death docs us part! You surely
never would return him!"
“Oh! oh loh I” screamed Mrs. Slack,
turning pink. "You wicked woman!
You mean thing! You shall have all
your horrid thing* back. Do you want
your spoonful of salt, too, you mean,
mean wretch?”
Then, tearing tho mantilla from her
shoulder*, she threw it at Mr. Pepper’s
head ns he struggled from the hammock
and drove away.
She borrowed a shawl from the clergy
man's wife and went to the picnic with
her eldest boy ns escort.
Before hcr return Mr*. Pepper had
proceeded to her neighbor’s house and
collected hor goods ami chattels.
Tlie piano was out of tune and scratch
ed ; oniou* had Iwen kept in tho ice
cream freezer, ami the mantle had a
grease-spot on one shoulder; the child
ren had cut a game on the lap board, and
it was evident Mr. Black had whipped
them with the egg-beater. The baby
carriage had been used to carry char
coal home, and the points of the scissors
were gone. So was Mrs. Slack’s love.
She goes about abusing Mrs. Pepper as
the meanest and most jealous thing sho
ever knew.
Tho lloracbuck ('uro.
There is a saying among the Russians
that a man who is fond of hi* horse will
not grow old early. Tho Arab and tho
Cossack are examples of the truth of tho
proverb. They generally live long, en
joy robust health and have no use for
liver pads and blue pill*. That vigorous
octogenarian, David Dudley Field, tells
us that he attributes his remarkably vi
tality to the habit of horseback riding,
ami if the truth were known, it would
Ih> doubtless appear that our sturdiest
old men are those who have been fond of
the saddle. The taste for equestrian
sports and exercise which has lately made
such progress in Brooklyn is, therefore,
11 hojieful and healthful sign. It is not
a mere freak of fashion, but a develop
ment in the direction of rational enjoy
ment ami an assurance that the rising
generation will be less of rm indoor and
more of an outdoor people. It means
less headache hen-after, better appetites,
“tronger lungs, rosier cheeks, brighter
eyes, sounder strop, happier spirits, and
a total oblivion of that organ which, ac
cording to Sidney Smith, keeps men a
gomi deal lower than tho angels the
liver.— Brooklyn Eagle
Warned,
"I tell you, it's a great thing to have
a girl who knows enough to warn a fel
low of his danger."
"Have you?" inquired one of the com
pany.
"Yes, indeed; Julia's fatherand moth
er were laying for me the other night,
when she heard my tap at the window,
and what do you Mippose that girl did!”
"Can’t think."
"She just sat down to the piano, and
sang the inaides out of ‘Old Folks at
Home.’ You can just bet I didn't call
I that evening."
SUPERSTITIOxNS
And Beliefs Concerning the
Animal Kingdom.
, No Foundation for tbs Monkey's Alleged
Mimicry of Man.
Dr. Felix L. Oswald says in the Chi- 1
eogo A very widespread super-
stition i* the belief in the dismal conse
quences of a tarantula bite. Paralysis,
opilcpsy, chocra ( St. Vitus’ dance), pal
sy, and idiocy were enumerated among ‘
the minor effect* of the virus, which ;
more frequently was supposed to cause |
the death of the sufferer. The Lycosa
tarantula, a* well as its North American
cousin (Lycosa carolinensis), is as pug
nacious as a bulldog and jump* even at a
walking-stick; but it* bite, so far from
being fatal, is, in fact, considerably les*
virulent tlian the gting of the common
hornet. In Arizona they have a hairy
spider of the genus Mygale, lioth larger
and fiercer than its Italian relative, yet
the effect of it* virus can but rarely be
felt for more than ten minutes. The
bite of the true Lycosa penetrates the
skin only in exceptional cases, when it
produces an itching sensation, similar to
that following the sting of a gadfly.
Both the Lycosa and the Mygale prey on
such small creatures that a potent virus
would boa sheer waste of chemicals.
And, moreover, the tarantulasupcrstition
ha* been traced to its origin. The taran
tella, a popular dance of the middle ages,
was named after the town of Taranto(the
ancient Tarentum), but afterward was in
troduced in regions where that derivation
was unknown, and where, a* usual, the
fancy of the mythmakers supplied an er
roneous etymology. By a simihrsolccism
the til-watch (like tit-mouse) became a
death-watch, and wodan, the world- ■
hunter (welt zager), a wild huntsman.
The “Great Bear,” the puzzling name of
a constellation resembling a plow, if any
thing has been traced to the Sanskrit
arA*/i<>«, the “shining ones” a word which
the Greeks adopted and changed into
arktu.i, the bear, just as Jack-tar changed
the French name of a golden-yellow fish
(jaune doree) into John Dory.
The “joint-snake” superstition seems
to be limited to the Anglo-American pop
ulation. There are several kinds of
snakes and lizards that break at the mere
touch of a switch, but the pieces can
never be reunited. It is true, though,
that a bob-tailed lizard will recover its.
normal length ina surprisingly short time
The very prevalent belief in the imita
tive penchant of our quadrumanous rela
tives should not have survived this age of
zoological gardens. 1 have owned more
than forty varieties of four-handers—
monkeys, baboons and lemurs—and have
never been able to discover a trace of the
alleged propensity. The prehensile
hands of a monkey are often used in a
way suggesting the manipulations of his
two-handed relative,but that resemblance
is as unintentional as unavoidable. None
except trained monkeys ever’clap their
hands because a visitor happens to ex
press his delight in that way, nor stick
out their tongues because they see a boy
indulge in that pleasantry. Gestures,
pantomimes, grimaces can be repeated a
hundred times without inducing an any
known species of monkey to make an at
tempt at mimicry. The imitation of
special tricks, though, may often be in
cited by motives of self-interest. My
pet baboon once exhausted his patience
in a vain attempt to open a box with a
screw-lid, and was just going to try the
efficacy of his teeth when a visitor volun
teered to solve the problem by less vio
lent means; Ever since Jenny attempts
to overcome the resistance of a tightly
closed box by trying to give the box a
rotary motion. The instinct of self
preservation, too, may sometimes simu
late the effects of mimicry. If an angry
man should lift his hand Jocko may imi
tate the motion—to ward off an expected
blow. If my boy runs to the window
Jenny will follow suit, to ascertain the
cause of the excitement. But, as a rule,
‘ the stories of emulative apes and the pre
posterous results of their propensity are
as purely apocryphal as the anecdotes of
conversational parrots. A parrot may
learn to repeat a hundred mottoes with
out attaching the least meaning to the
best-nmemliered word of his vocabulary;
though, of course, a constantly repeated
phrase is not ant to be used alwayi mala
propos. Parrots, like many other birds,
manifest their emotions in a versatile lan
guage of their own, but they never ex
press them in words.
At Home and Abroad,
Hostess (to Bobby, who is dining out
with his mother) —Will you have another
piece of pic, Bobby!
Bobby—Y’es’m.
Hostess (smilingly)—And so you are
one of the fortunate little boys whose
mammas let them have the second piece
of pie!
Bobby—Yes'm; she does when we’re
out visitin’, but at home I never get but
ope piece.— lfarpor's Rijar.
He t’aueht Something.
“Been fishing this season!”
"Yes."
"Where!"
“Up above Georgetown.
"Catch anything?"
I "Yes; caught a street car and came
home.”—H'usAi.-igtM Critic.
Sunday Sight In Stockholm.
At night—especially Sunday night
the scene is almost more animated, still
harder to find in any part of tlie world,
,*ay* Charles W. Wood, in the Argo"j,
writing of Sweden. Quay* brilliantly il
luminated, the electric light shining out
in dazzling contrast with the feebler gas
lamp. If the king is not in residence*
the palace itself is dark and closed. The
old houses on those rocky and more dis
tant height* reflect a myriad gleams.
Every window seem* an illumination.
From pleasure garden* on yonder hill
rocket* shoot up and break into a thous
and many-colored balls, dying out like
meteors in the darkness. Smaller fire
work* blaze up for a moment, and in their
turn expire. For it is Sunday night, and
the Swedes arc at their favorite amuse
ment.
The water is one scene of flashing
lamps, green, red and white. Too dark
to see the steamers, you may trace their
courses by these lights; courses so silent
that the gleams seem to possess a sepa
rate and independent existence. Gigan
tic fireflies, will-o’-the wisps, flitting over
the winding surface of the water. A
scene of enchantment, beautiful and in
teresting, only to be rightly viewed and
enjoyed from one of the upper windows
of the Grand Hotel. This alone is worth
a visit to Stockholm; would tempt you
some day to repeat it. Windows open
to the dark blue Summer sky, the in
tense heat and glare of the day succeeded
by a restful darkness and a cool, refresh
ing breeze, you may sit and gaze and
muse for hours and never tire. The
scene has neither weariness nor monot
ony.
Before the hotel, on the other side of
the water, under the very shadow of the
palace, are pleasure gardens, with just
sufficient iliumnation to keep your foot
steps from stumbling and permit poor
deluded mortals to gaze into each other’s
eyes. Here crowds sit in the evening
cool, sipping harmless beverages at small
round tables, under bowery branches, on
a level with the river, able to watch the
lights of the boats darting to and fro
whilst listening to the music of an or
chestra composed of boys.
These strains are sufficiently distant
not to disturb your meditations and en
joyment of the scenes. As to the gar
dens themselves, distance lends them
enchantment. A closer acquaintance
shows up their atmosphere as frivolous
and unpleasant, curiosity is quickly satis
fied, and you are glad to escape,
Japanese Boat Life.
In Poland some families are born and
die in salt mines, without ever living
above ground, and in Japan some are
born ar.d die in the same way on boats,
without ever living on shore. One of the
most interesting features of Japanese life
to me, says a recent traveller there, was
the manner of living in the boats and
junks, thousands of which frequent every
bay along the coast. The awkward junks ;
always belong to the members of one
family, and usually every branch of the
family, young and old, live on board.
The smaller sail-boats are made like a
narrow flat-boat, and the sail (they never
have but one) is placed very near the
stern, and extends from the mast about
the same distance in either direction: ». e.,
the mast runs in the middle of the sail
when it is spread.
In these little boats men are born
and, die without ever having an
abiding place on shore. Women and
all arc nearly naked, except in rains,
when they put on layers of fringy straw
mats, which give them the appearance
of being thatched. At night, if in har
bor, they bend poles over the boat from
side to side in the shape of a bow and
cover them with this straw—water-tight
straw —and go to sleep all together like a
lot of pigs.
A child three years old can swim
like a fish; and often children who
will not learn of their own accord are re
peatedly thrown overboard unt 1 they be
come expert swimmers. In the harbors
cliildren seem to be perpetually tumbling
overboard, but the mothers deliberately
pick them out of the water, and cuffing
them a little, go on with their work. It
is really astonishing at what age these
boys and girls will learn to scull a boat.
I have seen a boat more than twenty feet
long most adroitly managed by three chil
dren all under seven years of age. lam
told that notwithstanding their aptness
at swimming, many boatmen get drowned,
for no boat ever goes to another’s aid,
nor will any boatman save another from
drowning, because, as he says, it is all
fate, and he who interferes with fate will
be severely punished in some way. Be
sides this, the saving of a boatman's life
only keeps a chafing aoul so much longer
in purgatory, when it ought to be releas
ed by the death of the sailor whom the
gods, by fate, seem to have selected for
the purpose.
He Was Invited.
First Belle—There, dear, I want you to
look over this list of people I’m going to
invite to the party, and I wish you'd sug
gest another young man. Fve got seven
girls and only six young gentlemen so
far. There’s Harry Westerly, now. Do
you think he will do at a pinch!
Second Belle (blushing)—Well, dear I
don’t know. I’m sure; but you remember
I sat next to him when we went on the
sleighing party last winter, and he’s very
good at a squeeze. Sinterciile Journal.
- RARIKOINS.'
Big Prices that are Paid for
Some Specimens.
An American S2O Gold Pioce that
Brought $20,000
“Coin collecting is not a matter of
fashion or style,” said a Chicago dealer
to a \ew» reporter. "It is not a transient
craze. Hare coins cannot become plenty,
and as they find place in collections, one
by one, the increased difficulty of secur
ing them enhances their value. Then the
supjwsed scarcity of some coins causes
industrious searching and they become a
less exclusive article. For instance,
United States half-dollars of 1852 and
1836 have decreased 25 per cent, in price
because cf the number which have been
brought to light and the Maximilian dol
lar has declined from $2.50 to $1.25.
The decline in silver has resulted in a re
duction of about 25 per cent, in all for
eign coins of that metal and in many of
the United States pieces.”
"What is most wanted now in collect
ing?”
"Pieces of different dates to fill out
the series of large United States coppers,
from 1793 to 1857 inclusive. The few
pattern pieces of the 1856 nickel cent
gave the cumbersome copper its death
blow. White these cents were of limited
issue in the year of their experimental
introduction, they are not worth as much
as many people believe. I buy them at
$1 in good condition.”
"What is the rarest and most valuable
coin extant?” asked the Ac/cs.
"The S2O United States gold piece of <
1849. There are understood to be but
two of them—one in the possession of the
United States, and the other owned by
the King of Sweden, who is an enthusi
ast. lie paid $2,000 for this specimen.
The $5 gold piece of 1801 is quoted at
$25, and that of 1822 is about as valua
ble. The 1873 2-cent piece—the last of
the series—is worth sl.
“Some very old coins come far from
bringing fancy prices, even when in good
condition,” and the coin-dealer displayed
a lot of Roman coins of the early centu
ries, which were green from the corosion
of time, several of which could be had at
from 60 cents to sl. About the oldest
coin was that of Metapontum, belonging
to a period between four and five hun
dred years B. C. It sells for $3. The
more rare United States coins are the dol
lars of 1836 and 1839, which sell at from
$lO to SSO; the half-dollars of 1796-7,
selling at from SSO to $75; the quarters
of 1823 and 1827 bring the same price;
the dime of 1804 worth $lO to sl2; the
half-cents of 1836 to 1849 inclusive, each
selling at sl3 to sls, and the colonial
coins of 1786-7, worth from S3O to SSO.
"Here are some women’s coins,” con
tinued the numismatist, as he threw down
one bearing the bust of Faustina, wife of
Marcus Aurelius, whose reign began in
161 A. D., and of Agrippina, wife of
Casar Germanicus, reigning in 50 A, D.
To the unappreciative critic devoid of
veneration for the relics of other peoples,
hallowed by tradition and smellingof the
must of centuries, there was one leading
feature which stood out on the embossed
surfaces of those old coins—one opportu
nity for modern comparison. It was the
graceful disposition of the back hair of
Faustina and Agrippina—these royal wo
men fresh from the boudoirs of the first
and second centuries—in contrast with
the twists and snarls, bunches and braids
exhibited by the womankind of to-day.
It cannot be seen that fashion has
wrought any improvement in back hair
during sixteen or seventeen hundred
years. Faustina’s smooth tresses reach
gracefully to the neck, where they are
gathered in a simple, bewitching knot.
Divine must have been the era when
crimp and bang, paper and puffs, waves
and switches were not.
“Agrippina’s hair falls lower before it
is gathered, but is not less attractive in
appearance. No matted masses mar her
chiseled forehead—no twists of paper
ever decorated her cranium. She was a
best girl of whom the frisky Catsar in his
early day might well be proud, as side
by side they mingled with the elite in the
old Roman skating-rinks, or in the gaily
lit saloon she scooped in the vanilla ice
cream. ”
Fourteen Mistakes of Life.
Somebody has condensed,the mistakes
of life, and arrived at the conclusion that
there are fourteen of them. Most people
would say, if they are told the truth,
that there was no limit to the mistakes of
life; that they were like the drops in the
ocean or tho sands of the shore in num
ber, but it is well to be accurate. Here,
then, are fourteen great mistakes: "It
is a great mistake to set up our own
standard of right and wrong, and judge
people accordingly; to measure the en
joyment of others by our own; to expect
uniformity of opinion in this world; to
look for judgement and experience in
youth; to endeavor to mould all disposi
tions alike; to yield to immaterial trifles;
to look for perfection in our own actions;
to worry ourselves and others with what
cannot be rcmidied; not to alleviate all
that needs alleviation as far as lies in our
power; to consider everything impossi
ble that we cannot perform; to believe
only what our finite minds can grasp; to
expect to be able to understand every
thing.
FKABLS OF THOI'UHT.
He who forsee* calamities suffers
twice over.
If a life will bear examination in every
hour of it, it is pure indeed.
If we did but know how little some en
joy the things they possess, there woulfl
not be much envy in the world.
True honor is that which refrains front
doing in secret what it would not do
openly, and where other laws are want,
ing imposes a law upon itself.
One unquiet, perverse disposition dis
tempers the peace and unity of a whole
family or society, as one jarring instru
ment will spoil a whole concert.
Live on what you have; live, if you
can, on less. Do not borrow, either for
vanity or pleasure; the vanity will end in
shame, and the pleasure in regret.
If we could only give ourselves half an
hour's serious reflection at the close of
every day, we should every week preach
to ourselves seven of the best sermons
that could be uttered.
To feel always more disposed to see
the favorable thau the unfavorable side
of things, is a turn of mind which is
more happy to possess than to be born to
an estate of ten thousand a year.
There is one special reason why we
should endeavor to make children as
happy as possible, which is that their
j early youth forms a pleasant or unpleas
ant background to all their after life.
Surviving Terrible Wounds.
Mr. Puxton tells us that a trapper
named Glass and his companion were one
day setting their beaver traps in a stream
near the River Platte, when they saw a
large bear turning up the turf close by,
searching for roots. The men crept to
the thicket, fired at him, and wounded
him severely. The animal groaned,
jumped up from the ground, and snort
ing with pain and fury, charged tow
ards the place from whence came the
smoke of the rifles. The men rushed
through the thicket, but their speed was
impeded by the underwood, so that the
infuriated beast soon came up with them;
at that moment Class stumbled end fell.
When he rose, the bear stood before him
on its hinds legs; he called instantly to
his companion to fire, he himself sending
the contents of his pistol into the bear’s
body, which, with the blood streaming
from its nose and mouth, knocked the
pistol away with one paw while it stuck
the claws of the other into the flesh of
his antagonist and rolled with him on
the ground. Glass managed to reach his
knife and plunge it several times into
the bear, while the latter was tearing his
flesh with tooth and claw. At length,
blinded with blood and exhaustion, the
knife fell from Glass's hand, and he
fainted. His companion fled to the
camp and told his party of the sad fate
of their companion. Assistance was in
stantly sent. Glass still breathed, but
the bear lay dead across him. The trap
per’s flesh was torn away in slips, and
lumps of of it lay beside him; his scalp
hung bleeding over his face, which was
much torn. The men, thinking he was
already dead, dragged the bear off his
body and took away his hunting-shirt,
moccasins, and arms, and returned to
the camp, saying they had completed his
burial. Months clasped, and some of
the party were on their way to a trading
port with skins, when they saw a horse
man approach them with a face so scar
red and disfigured that they could not
distinguish his features. The stranger
accosted one of the party, exclaiming in
a hollow voice, “Hurrah, Bill, my boy,
you thought I was killed, did you? Just
hand me over my horse and gun, lad.
I’m not dead yet, you see. Astonishment
and horror seized the party, some of
whom believed himboth dead and buried.
Glass told them that he knew not how
long he had lain insensible, but when he
revived he was obliged to subsist on the
bear’s flesh. As soon as he had strength
to crawl, he tore off as much of it as he
could carry, and crept down to the river.
He had suffered tortures from wounds,
cold, and hunger before he reached the
fortress, eighty miles distant, living
meantime chiefly on roots and berries.—
The Moon.
A Regular Pliilantrophfst.
“I don’t see why you regard Jones so
highly. He seems like a very common
fellow to me.”
“There is where you are mistaken; he
is the most generous man alive. He is
passionately fond of music. He loves to
play the violin and to sing.”
"I presume he plays and sings for his
friends. That isn’t so unusual as to call
for all this eulogy.”
"I was just about to say that in spite
of his love for these amusements he re
strains himself, and no one’ever heard
him sing or play. I tell you, old man, he
is more than generous; he is a regular
philantrophist. ” — Puck.
A Friday Year.
Persons who have a superstitious dread
of Friday will not be pleased to learn that
this is a thoroughly Friday year. It
came in on Friday, will go out on Friday
: and will have fifty- three Fridays. There
; are four months in the year that have five
i Fridays each; changes of the moon occux
five times on a Friday, and the longest
' and shortest day of the year falls on a
I Friday.