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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.