The Indiana Progress from Indiana, Pennsylvania • Page 3

THE GOLD CROSS. My Baby. I am in love with my baby-Yes over and over again, From the crown of her head To the sole of her foot, And it isn't but half told then. In love with her sunny gold curls, In love with her sparkling eyes That rival in depth and beauty The bine of the sun lit skies. In love with her soft rosy cheeks, With the dimples that in them play, With her pert little nose and her ruby lips That hide pearly teeth away.

In love with her dimpled hands, That oft into mischief will stray, Bnt little hands cannot be idle And mischief will get in the way. In love with the busy feet, That are given so little rest; That ma is glad when bed-time comes, And she's tucked in her little nest. Cod bless you, darling baby, And keep yon in His care, And make me worthy of the charge, Is mamma's whimpered prayer. Ab yon who are a woman and wife, But have not a mother's care Know not, that on earth you are losing Of Heaven, a goodly share. eellany Fire-Proof Paris.

A correspondent, who has been studying the cause of the comparative immunity of Paris from fire, says that it is due to "a simple principle of construc- t'on." He states the reason as follows "In building it is understood that there shall be no air-spaces left between fioors or between the plaster of walls and the studding or wall itself and that the roof must be covered with tile, slate, or metal. There is not such an incendiary thing as a wooden or tar-and-gravel roof in Paris, and, for aught I know, in all France. The spaces between the floors must be filled with cement or plaster-of- Paris, which is here cheap and abundant, and the wooden floors must rest close down on this cement, so that in case of fire there is no air space under the floor. The spaces between the studding in partition walls are also carefully filled up with cement, and against it the plaster is placed, so that there is no chance for fire to get between them to rush up from one story to another or to fly along between floors, When a fire breaks out it spreads so slowly in houses thus constructed that it is always quenched before doing much damage or extending to other Another precaution is intended to prevent carelessness and in- cendiarism, so common in American cities. If a fire, no matter how it may iiappen, does any damage to any other person, he has full recourse at law for all his damages and costs against the person in whose premises the fire broke out.

This simple rule of equity and fight makes everybody watchful and careful of fire. The gross carelessness everywhere witnessed in American cities is never seen in Paris or France. It don't pay here for a man to set fire to his stock of goods in order to get a high insurance; nor for a landlord who has an idle tenement on his hands, or bad tenants, to fire his premises for the sake of realizing on his policy of insurance nor has any one an object in effecting large insurance. Indeed the chief insurance taken out in Paris is in the nature of an indemnity against the damage one may have to pay his neighbors in case of fire spreading from his premises to theirs." Parity of Character. Henry Ward Beecher draws the following beautiful parallel: "Over the beauty of the plum and apricot there grows a bloom ajid beauty more exquisite than the fruit itself; a soft, delicate flush that overspreads its blushing cheek.

Now if yon strike your hand over that, and it is once gone, it is gone forever, for it never grows but once. The flower that hangs in the morning, impearled with dew--arrayed with jewels--once shake it, so that the heads roll off, and you may sprinkle over it as you please, yet it can never be made again what it was when the dews fell lightly upon it from heaven. On a frosty morning you may see the panes of glass covered with landscapes, mountains, lakes and trees, blended into a beautiful fantastic picture. Now lay your hands upon the and by the scratch of your finger or by the warmth of the palm all the delicate tracery will be obliterated. So there is in youth a beauty and purity of character which when once touched and defiled can never be restored; a fringe more delicate than frostwork, and when torn and broken will never be re-embroided.

A man who has spotted and soiled hia garments in his youth, though he may seek to make them white again, can never wholly do it, even were he to wash them with his tears. When a young man leaves his father's house with the blessing of his mother's tears still wet upon his forehead, if he once loses that early purity of character it is a loss that he can never make whole again. Such is the consequence of crime. Its effect cannot be eradicated, it can only be forgiven." The Last Moments of Guerrazzi. the Italian author and statesman, died at his home near Leghorn, surrounded by his family.

The last book he read was De Gubernati's of Illustrious Italians." He had just finished the closing pages of his last work, Secolo che nmore," and had expressed to his friends his satisfaction that he had lived long enough to bring this work to completion. He had already designed another work, to be called "The Origin of Comets." The countenance of Guerrazzi after death was calm and placid. A cast of the features was taken and the body was embalmed. The Princeton (HI.) Clarion blows a blast about a dry goods merchant of that town who, in a fit of somnambulism, arose from his ceuch, neatly cut the bed-quilt in two with his pocket scissors, and then asked his terrified wife if he could not show her anything eke. "You can hardly consider it a gift, Maggie, because I shall split it in two, and keep half for myself." George Wayland looked straight into Carroll's brown eyes as he spoke, and saw the sudden glow of love in them, as they met for a second his ardent gaze, and then hid under their blue-veiled, silken-fringed lids.

"I shall prize it highly, George, and the more froEt the fact that you wear one half while I wear the other." "But will you wear it always, under all circumstances "Always, under all circumstances," she repeated, merrily. He neatly severed the narrow, thin cross, and fastened one section to his watch-chain, and the other to the piece of narrow velvet Maggie had bought, and that he tied for her around her white throat. "I like it better than a ring, George," she said, shyly; "because everyone knows who is engaged, by just looking at their left "As if I wouldn't like every soul in Meadowside to know I had won you, my shy, brown-eyed darling. I am too proud and too happy." Maggie interrupted him, the visible jealousy of a certain ladv, who considers me a bold rival "Despite even Cora Adrian's foolish jealousy; while I feel several inches taller than poor Ned Morrison, whom I did cut out'unmercifully, didn't I A little shadow passed over Maggie's face, and instinctively she clung closer to her lover's arm. "Oh, George I am actually afraid of Ned, lately.

Only last night he said I'd be sorry yet that I refused him. He's so morose and sullen since -since She bhished a little, and George magnanimously helped her through: "Since I asked and was not refused by those sweet lips. Never mind Ned, Maggie. Naturally he feels jealous. I would, myself, under reversed circumstances.

But all this has nothing to do with our promise to wear tbe little gold cross while we are separated for these three months that are so close at hand. But, Maggie, my little girl, if ever the time should come--mind, I have no idea it will--but if it should come, that you want to be released from me, all you've to do is to send your half of the cross to me. It will be the mute token of my misery." But Maggie smiled in his face cheerily. "If all the misery you ever anticipate comes by means of this little and she laid her hand lightly on the glittering trinket, 'rest assured you'll have little of it. But, Sir Knight, suppose you weary of my colors What He folded her tightly in his arms and kissed her.

"As if I could ever change So the two, in that blissful, painful parting, that seemed ages to them, renewed their vows. The old, old story, yet ever new. The cheerful rays of the astral lamp on the round, crimson-covered table, beamed over Maggie Carrol's white fingers and flashed like a spark of liquid silver on her tiny thimble and polished needle, as her hands flew gracefully over her work. She had cleared away the tea-dishes, and her parents had gone to a friend's. Little Bessie lay sleeping on the lounge, with the light shaded from her eyes, and Maggie, with a garment she was making for one of her bridal outfits, had settled happily, cosily down to her evening's work, thinking, with every stitch she set of George Wayland, by this time away out in Omaha, where he would gain a good many hundred dollars in putting the machinery in a new (mill, money that would start them so nicely housekeeping.

Maggie's pleasant reverie was dissipated by an impatient rap on the sitting- room door, followed, before she could unfasten her work from her knee, and go to the door and open it, by Ned Morrison. "Don't get up, Maggie, I can find a chair for myself. I've been here often enough to make myself at home, haven't I for all I don't appear to be particularly wanted." Maggie's cheeks flamed at the insinuated want of hospitality, but she very pleasantly arose and placed a chair near the fire. "Oh, no, Ned you only imagine we don't want to see you. Sit down.

Ain't you cold? Mother and father are gone "I don't care where they are gone. 1 came to see you, and none but you." He drew his chair away from the fire, and near the table where Maggie sat. "Well, Ned, here I am for you to see." She was determined not to allow her annoyance to escape her, so she assumed from the first a friendly, cheery tone. And it mollified Ned, as she intended it should. "I was a little rough on the old folks, Maggie; but the truth is, since--since --you and that Wayland fellow have been such friends, I see precious little of you, anyway." Maggie could have bitten her tongue to have prevented the blush she felt surging over her face.

"I would naturally see more of my betrothed husband than merely a friend. Ned, please hand me the scissors." She did not lift her eyes, but slipped her thread silently, and went on sewing, while Ned toyed with the scissors moodily. Finally, almost abruptly, he spoke: "I'll get out and leave you in peace, Maggie, if you'll give me one of your curls to remember you by." Maggie smiled indulgently; secretly thankful at such a cheap release. "You may have any curl you want, Ned, and welcome. Only, you must not take it as a pledge of banishment, Ned." And now Maggie laid down her sewing, and looked into his moody, half-scorned face.

"I wish for your sake it had been as you so desire. But as it is not, as I am so content, let it all be forgotten. Which curl will you She leaned her head toward him coquettishly; and he, awkwardly, tremblingly, cut one off close to her neck; so close, the cold steel made her start. The moment he had severed it, he threw down the scissors, thrust the curl in his pocket in a wad, and arose from his chair. "I said I'd go.

Good-bye, Maggie." Almost before Maggie could recover from her surprise at his wild, abrupt way, he was off, his footsteps ringing loud on the frozen ground. His eyes were brighter than usual, and his face fairly worked with exultation as he drew the tangled black curl from his pocket, and with it a band of black velvet, to which a tiny, plain gold cross was attached. "Little did my lady know I cut the velvet with the curl, and only begged the hair that I might secure the cross. Little did the lovers--curse them--know I overheard their sugar-candy romance about the token of the cross; but if George Wayland don't get this back before I'm a week older, it'll be strange. Trust either of 'em for an explanation.

They're too plagued proud." And Maggie went on with her sewing for another hour in blissful unconsciousness of the loss of her treasure. Afterward she and Bessie had a game of romps before Bessie went finally to bed; and still later--at half-past nine--she and brother Ben went down to the last mail to see if there was a letter from George. It was not until she had retired to her own room, and stood before her dressing bureau to arrange her hair for the night, that sue missed it, and then she missed it at the very first glance in the glass. It was down stairs, of course, on. the floor, where it had fallen when she and Bessie had their game of or, 0 suppose she had lost it on the street on the way to the post office It was very probable, very, and when she had crept softly down stairs, lamp in hand, and thoroughly searched the sitting-room in vain, she knew it was really lost on the street.

What would George say of her carelessness How could the velvet have come untied and with a little fit of crying over her loss, Maggie went to bed and dreamed of wading ankle-deep through gold crosses. George Wayland, on his way home from a hard day's work, stopped in the postoffice in the far off Western city for the long delayed letter from Maggie Carrol. It had been a fortnight now, since he had received the last, and a worried sort of feeling took possession of him at the delay. Was Maggie ill away from home-or--George hated himself for the ugly thought that more than once flitted unbidden across his mind--Morrison's heirship to a long disputed estate, that Maggie could have changed her mind Yes, it was barely possible, and that was all, George decided and when the mail was at last opened, and the rush at the boxes was lessened somewhat, and George actually saw there was one for him, he felt it was very impossible. But he shook with surprise and sick fear to see Ned Morrison's handwriting.

What was the news in the sealed envelope? He tore it rudely open, and, wrapped in a tissue paper, dropped in his trembling hands--Maggie's gold cross Not a word, only this mute sign--the very token he had suggested How contemptuous the blank sheet of paper seemed to him, and how unutterably mocking did his name, in Ned Morrison's handwriting appear. So, not only possible or probable that Maggie could throw him over, but actually undeniably the fact, that she had done so. And he away out West, with but one friend--his companion in labor, Maggie's cousin Jim--and stinting to save money for Maggie, and working day and night for her sake. 0 was it any wonder he gnashed his teeth in a rage of grief He crushed his letter into his pocket and drew his cap down on his eyes, and strode on, dumb from the blow, never seeing, never hearing Jim Carroll, who had got a letter from home, and, having read it, was waiting to deliver messages to George. "What can ail the man?" thought Jim, with wonder, and he started after and stepped on some little, hard object as he put his foot down.

He stopped and picked up the little golden cross. "George has lost it off his watch chain, 1 suppose." He put it in his pocket and went on, intending to overtake Wayland and give him his lost trinket. But, by dint of fast walking, maybe, George was out of sight. And on the morrow one of the hands gave him a penciled note from Wayland: "I've a little business to attend to further dovm for a week or 60. Keep things going on.

Bicksoon as I can G. Then, when Jim started off on his day's work, it suddenly occurred to him that, as George would be away probably more than a week, he would send his cross home to Maggie for safe keeping. He knocked around so among the machinery, that it might get broken or lost, and he knew George prized it highly. So--the fates willed it that he had no time to write a note--he thrust it into an envelope lying on George's desk, already directed to Maggie, and sent it on its ill-omened message, all unconscious of the mischief he was brewing in the act, The long winter had passed away-somehow or other that Maggie Carrol hardly knew how. It was enough for her that she had been very wretched and utterably miserable since a day, months past, when, without a word, or sign of warning, she had received from George Wayland the cross he had solemnly sworn to always wear for her sake.

Ned Morrison, too, had seemed so delighted when he learned--how such pitiful facts do leak out--that it was all over with Maggie and George, and full of pomposity and self-importance over his inheritance, had tormented Maggie half crazy to accept him. And now, when even this dull head had been made to know it was impossible, and he had transferred his attentions and affections to Amy Harrow, he was to be married, and George Wayland and Jim Carroll were coming home on the same night. Now it was sundown, and in an hour they would meet, for George was obliged to see Maggie's father on business at the earliest moment. And so she dressed in the self-same suit she had worn that night George had tied the velvet around her neck, a dark, claret- silk dress, and in a painful memory of that dear past, fastened the cross in fts old place. George Wayland should see she had kept her word, if he had not.

She would let him know that though carelessnesslostherhers, still she would wear the one he returned, because she would be true to him no matter how false he was to her. And so, when her father called her down from her room, she went with slow, listness footsteps, and wildly throbbing heart that would not be still, to meet the man she loved so dearly, the man who had ceased to regard her almost as soon as he was out of her presence. She had heard his voice, so round and Full, and so sweet to her hungry ears, before the door that stood ajar. "Ned Morrison to be married to-night to little Amy Harrows Why I thought--" and that very moment Maggie walked quietly in, her face pale as death, her blue eyes burning like stars. "George, I am glad to see you.

How do you do She extended her hand, and looked him frankly, freely in the eyes. Why should she not She had no qualms of jonscience as he must have, and yet, liow strange, how very strange it was that he was markedly agitated. Maggie liad naturally supposed that he would have been perfectly careless, utterly indifferent, and here he was actually trembling like a man with an ague. Had he been conscience-smitten at sight of her loyality flaunted so openly in the very face of his treachery? "Yes," Maggie was deciding, "it was the cross that made--" and then George's voice, this time low, intense, addressed her: "Maggie, can you explain away this sickening mystery I find to my utter demoralization, that Ned is to be married, and not to you. And yet the cross came to me in his handwriting." All over Maggie's face flamed the red surges.

Her lost treasure found by Ned Morrison, and sent oh, so George Wayland. And then a giddy, blinding rush of happiness almost choked her. "0, George Host it somehow, somewhere I never knew. Did you think, really, I could have been so--so--" Her tears, welling thick and fast, choked her. "But this cross, Maggie, that you have on "It came in a blank letter one day, two or three weeks after I got mine, and I supposed you wanted to get rid of me.

You know what you said." Wayland looked utterly thunder- stricken. "I have mine at this moment. I have been as true as steel. See He threw back his overcoat, there was the tiny cross attached to his watch chain. "Oh, George!" "Maggie, my own darling!" It was utterly incomprehensible to them, but they loved each other, and what did they care That evening, when all the family, with the two guests, were sitting around the fire, Jim Carroll asked Maggie if she ever received the little cross he sent her, and then, it was as plain as sunshine, although none of them ever knew of Ned Morrison's theft, nor in their new blissful happiness did they care.

Watch! There is no period in a Christian's life without peril of sin. A wily foe attends his steps, watching with sleepless vigilance for opportunities which may be made occasions for his fall. The only security for the child of God, therefore, throughout his entire pilgrimage, is in unrelaxing watchfulness. As the citadel is only secure against surprise and capture, when faithful sentinels, with pauselesa step, pursue their steady tread along its walls and before its gates, so, the soul, the temple of the Holy Ghost, is alone impregnable against the Prince of Darkness" when all its powers, clad in Gospel mail, guard every avenue, with incessant vigilance, against the entrance of evil. But there are seasons of peculiar jeopardy, when unusual perils beset the Christian, and so insidiously, as to threaten his safety with more than ordinary promise of success.

We are passing through such a season now, and there is need of the note of warning which we sound from the head of this article. We have seen and heard enough already to satisfy us that without great caution, the Adversary will gather rich spoils from the present "panic." The scarcity of money will be a strong temptation to many to disregard the sacred obligations by which they are bound to support the cause of God in its various departments. The pressure is so great, the future so threatening, the necessity for retrenchment so imperious, and "withholding more than is meet" so much more consonant with natural inclination, than the self-denial which enhances the gifts we lay upon God's altar, that, without weariness, many good people will be seduced into the sin of "robbing God" who would shrink from wilfully bringing upon their souls so grievous a crime. This is the supreme peril of the times; let Christian people guard against it. Be sure that you are personally cramped by the prevalent stringency, before you make it a plea for withholding your dues from the Church or the claims of charity.

If really straightened, see to it that personal gratification is postponed to the claims of Him whose steward you are. It is right to be provident, but it is safe to give when the cause of God presents its claims, so long as there is anything with which to respond to its demands. The widow of Sarepta passed a incomparably more trying than any we experience or are ever likely to encounter; and passed it safely, by dividing her store with the prophet of the Lord. There is infinitely greater danger of damaging your soul by treacherous dealing with duty, than there is of impoverishing yourseli by excessive contributions to the Lord's treasury. "Take heed then, and beware of covetuousness," which has a powerful ally in the present monetary stress.

There is blessing or disaster for us in these trying times, according as we use them. Let us watch against the evils they threaten, and enrich our experience with all the spiritual benefits they are capable of yielding. Sixty Years Ago. One of the annoying hoaxes ever recorded was that whuth, about sixty years ago, was known in London as the Berners street hoax. It drew the atten- ion of the newspapers at the time; then of the magazines and the annual Kegis- many years afterward (in connec- with a biographical notice of the loaxer), of the Quarterly Review; and more recently, if we remember rightly, of the "Ingoldsby Legends." Berners street is a quiet street of lotels and shops, with private-looking windows; in 1810, it was still more quiet, inhabited by well-to-do families in a genteel way.

One morning, soon after breakfast, a wagon-load of coals drew up before the door of a widow lady in that street, and soon a van-load of furniture; then came a hearse with a coffin, and a train of mourning-coaches. Presently arrived two fashionable physicians, a dentist, and an accoucheur, driving up as near as they could to the door, and wondering why so many lumbering vehicles were so near at hand. Six men arought a great chamber-organ; a coaeh- maker, a clock-maker, a carpet-manu- iacturer, and a wine-merchant sent specimens of their goods; a brewer Drought several barrels of ale; curiosity-dealers brought sundry knick- macks. A piano-forte, linen, jewelry, wigs and head-dresses, a cart-load of Dotatoes, books, prints, conjuring tricks, 'eathers, ices, jellies, were among the brought to (or left near) the louse while mantua-makers came with oaskets of millinery and fancy articles, and opticians with telescopes. Then, after a time, trooped in form all qnar- iers grocers, coachmen, footmen, cooks, iouse-maids, nursery-maids, and other servants, come in quest of situation's.

To crown all, persons of distinction ame in their carriages-- the commander-in-chief, the archbishop of Canterbury, a cabinet minister, the lord chief justice, the governor of the bank of England, the chairman of directors of the East India company, an eminent parliamentary philanthropist, and the lord mayor. The last-named functionary--one among those who speedily saw that all had been victimized by a gigantic hoax--drove to Marlborough street police-office, and told the sitting magistrate that he had received a letter from a lady in Berners street, to the effect that she had been summoned to attend at the Mansion house, that she was extremely ill, that she wished to make a deposition upon oath, and that she would deem it a great favor if his lordship would call upon er. All the other persons of eminence had had their commiseration appealed to in a similar way. Police officers (there were no policemen in those days) were sent to keep order in Berners street, which was nearly choked with vehicles, jammed and interlocked one with another the drivers were irriated, the disappointed tradesmen were exasperated, and a large crowd enjoyed the malicious fun. Some of the vans and goods were overturned and broken; while a few casks of ale became a prey to the populace.

All through the day, until late at night, did this extraordinary state of things continue, of the terror and dismay of the poor lady and the other inmates of the house. Every one found directly that it was a hoax; but the name of the hoaxer was not known till long afterward. This, it appeared, was Theodore Hook, one of the most inveterate punsters and jokers of the day. He had noticed the very quiet character of Berners street, and the name of Mrs. on a brass plate on one of the doors; he laid a wager with a brother-wag who accompanied him, that he would make that particular house the talk of the whole town.

And he assuredly did it. He devoted three and four days to writing letters, in the name of Mrs. to tradesmen of all kinds, professional men, distinguished personages, and servants out of place; all couched in a lady-like style, and requesting the persons addressed to come to Berners street on the appointed day, for reasons specially stated. Hook took a furnished lodging ust opposite the house; and there posted himself with two or three companions on the day in question, to enjoy the scene. He deemed it expedient, however, to go off quickly into the country, and there remain incog, for a time.

If he had been publicly known as the author of the hoar, it is probable he would have fared badly. Column. The Deadly Evils of Gossip. I have known a country society which withered away all to nothing under the diy rot of gossip only. Friendships once as firm as granite.dissolved to jelly, and then away to water, only because of this; love that promised a future as enduring as heaven, and ae stable as truth, evaporated into a morning mist that turned to a day's long tears, only because of this.

A father and a son were set foot to foot with the fiery breath of anger that would never cobl again between them, only because of this; and a husband and his young wife, each straining at the heated leash, which in the beginning had been the golden bondage of a God- blessed love, sat mournfully by the side of the grave where all their love and joy lay buried, and only because of this. I have seen faith transformed to mean doubt, hope give place to grim despair, and charity take on itself the features of black malevolence, all because of the fell words of scandal, and the magic mutterings of gossip. Great crimes work great wrongs, and the deeper tragedies of life spring from its larger passions; but woeful and most melancholy are the uncatalogued tragedies that issue from gossip and detraction; most mournful the shipwreck often made of noble natures and lovely lives by the bitter winds and dead salt waters of slander. So easy to say, yet so hard to refute--throwing blame on the innocent, and punishing them as guilty, if unable pluck out the stings they never see, and to silence words they never heard. Gossip and slander are the deadliest and cruelest weapons man has for his brother's hurt.

Taking Aim. There were four little boys Who started to go Forth from the same spot To make tracks in the snow; He that made his path stralghtest, They had in their plaa Of all of the four Should be their best man. Now, these four little boya Were Philip and John, And merry-faced Harry, And sober-eyed Dan, The beat friends in the world, And fall of invention In play--but they seldom Were found in contention. Well, they started togother, And hurried along, But John, Don, and Harry Somehow went quite wrong The fourth made his path Nearly straight and they wondered. When all tried alike, Why they three had blnndered.

Then Philip replied, "The reason, yon. see, Though no harder I tried To succeed than you three, I pushed for that oak, Going forward quite ready While you straggled on Without aim, and unsteady." Xow, you see, my dear boys, What such lessons leach. If there is a point That you wish to reach-A position in life At all worth the If you gain it 'twill greatly Depend on your aiming. THE STKAITS OP little ones, get out your atlases and see if you can find the Straits of Magellan. Where are you looking, over North America And I declare if there isn't Eddie with the map of Asia, as if anybody ever heard of them being there! Where are they Why, you ust all of you give a good look, and one of you will find out presently.

The one who finds out first can raise up his hand. There goes a hand up already, and it isn't "his" at all. I believe girls generally do find out things first. Don't you say a word, Susie, for I see Charley has almost found them. Well, Charley, where are they At the southern end of South America, and there you have been, Carrie, looking all about Greenland.

What is that island which is separated from the continent by straits Terra del Fuego, and that is Spanish for land of fire. Why it is called land of fire I do not know, as teil us it is a bleak, barren island, with disagreeable, uncertain weather and constant keen winds. This island is inhabited by a race of Indians who are most ignorant and degraded. These Indians build themselves houses jy sticking a few branches into the ground in the form of a half circle, and draw the tops of the branches together and tie them. I am sure I made as good houses out of branches, when I was a little girl, to play in.

They give very little protection against the wind, rain and snow. When a house is fin- a fire is built before its open Iront, and then the family crowd themselves into the hut before the fire and try to keep warm. The Fuegian Indians have only a few skins to wear in the place of clothing. Mrs. Agassiz who lately visited this island with her husband, gave the women some bright calico to make into clothes, out she said she doubted if they would mow what to do with it.

The men are very fond of tobacco. The Straits of Magellan are filled with islands which make the channels very numerous. The captain of a ship tias to be very careful, or he will lost with his ship when he is trying io find his way. There are numerous high mountains which make the scenery very beautiful. The mountain sides are covered with trees and flowers.

The fuschia, like that, Susie, which your 1 mother tends with such care, and is careful not to leave out of doors on cool nights, there grows wild, and as abundant as the laurel in our woods. Farther up on the mountain tops snow and ice are constantly found. Vessels sometimes have to remain weeks, and even months, in some of the safe harbors of these straits, where the mountains protect them from the storms, for as fast, perhaps, as they venture out, a sudden squall will come up and drive them back. They have a peculiar kind of storm in this region which is called a "williwaw." The air will be perfectly calm, without any sign of wind. All of a sudden a gust of wind will shake the vessel furiously for a moment, and then everything will be quiet again.

Yes, Charlie, just as your teacher used to shake you when you didn't have your lessons perfect. For my part, I think I should prefer to leave the willi- wuws in the Straits of Magellan, where they belong, than to bring them into the schoolroom to help boys in their studies. Shouldn't you I am sure I could make little boys interested their lessons playing williwaw. --The Children's Hour, Fred Douglass has been presented with a gold-mounted Malacca cane by the colored citizens of St. John.

They expressed a determination to "stick" by him. in AND BOYS OF GERMANY. -Throughout Germany, wherever girls can be employed to advantage, they are taken in preference to young men. At Munich the clerks and book-keepers in the banks are nearly all young and handsome girls. At the depots, many of those who attend the windows for the sale of tickets are girls, and the cashiers in all the cafes and restaurants are of the same sex.

They are generally very expert at figures, and in mental arithmetic have no superiors. In view of the fact that so many females are employed in the rougher and hardest descriptions of laboring work, it speaks well for the sex that they are seeking and securing more desirable and lucra- tive employment. We are under the impression in America that our young men are not as steady and staid as they ought to be; but they are miracles of steadiness compared to the average young men in Germany. The students at Heidelberg can give them a start of half a day, and beat them before bedtime. They don't drink strong liquor; coffee, beer, or wine being the extent of their libations; but they devote the best part of the day to the cafe or the beer saloon, reading the papers, playing billiards, chatting, or studying the plates in the numerous satirical illustrated papers.

How the many thousands of young men in Tienna obtain a living and clothing, who arc always to be found in the coffee-house, is a tery "that no fellow can find out.".