Night on the 8 ea.
The livelong day the storm has beat,
As if in wrath and pain;
Now hushed and smooth to slamber sweet,
Sinks baek the troubled man,
Thereon the gentle wind of night
Brooks low with baimy sweep;
It is God's spirit in its flight
That hovers o'er the deep.
God kisses there the waving hair
Of the weary, dreaming soa,
With murmured banedictive prayer,
“Sleep, my child, peace bea to thee.”
From the
iL)
bis. mn |
Christmas With The Doots, i
Rise, happy morn | rise, holy morn !
Draw forth the cheerful day from night,
Oh, Father, tach the Bast, and light
The light that shone wien Hope was
There's a song in the air, there's a star in
the sky,
There's a mother’s deep prayer and a baby's
low ory:
And the star rains its firo white the beautiful
sing,
And the manger of Bethlehem oralMes a
King! —d. G. HoRgnd.
The night that erst ne name had worn,
Te it a happy name is given;
For in that stable lay, new-born,
The peacefal Prince of Earth and Heaven.
Alfred Dommell.
This happy day, whose risen sun
Shall set not through eternity;
This holy day, when Christ, the Lord,
Took on Him our humanity.
-Phobe Carey,
But the star that shines in Bethleham
Shines still and shall not cause,
And we listen still to the tidings
Of Glory and of Peace.
Adelaide A. Proclor.
was horn
On Christmas day in the morning.
~ id Christmas Carel.
Rejoice, our Savior He
But peacefal was the night.
Wherein the Prince of Light
His reign of peace on earth began.
~= Milton.
Whe taught mankind on that first Christmas
day
What "twas to be a man ; to give, not take:
To serve, not rule ; to nourish, not devour;
To help, not crush ; if need, to die, not live? |
-—{haries Kingsley.
Then pealed the bells, more lond and deep,
“God is not dead ; nor doth he sleep !
The Wrong shall fail, the Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!”
—Longfellow.
Some say that ever ‘gainst that season comes
Wherein our Savior's birth is celebrated,
The bird of dawning singesh all night long, |
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
~Shakespeare.
With gentle deeds and kindly thonghts
And loving ¥ 3 withal,
Welcome the merry Christmas in,
And hear a brother's call.
~F. Lawrence.
This day
Shall change all griefsand quarrels into love.
—Shakespeare.
Sound over all waters, reich ont from all
lands, i
The chorus of voices, the elasping of hands ; |
Sing hymns that were sung by the stars of
the morn,
Sing songs of the
born !
whan Jesus was
— Whittier,
anges
80, now is come one jorful'st feast,
Let every one be jolly:
Each room with ivy leaves is drest,
And every pest with holly.
it Christmas be merry ‘and thankful withal,
And feast thy poor neighbors, the great with
the small.
— Thomas Tusser.
was broached the mightiest ale,
est tale;
ald cheer
half the year. |
—Scott
A Christmas
The poor man’s heart
al oft oc
hreoyry ed
arougi
I many
The poor wil ' & care forget;
The debtor think not of his debts,
But, as they each enjoy i
Wish it were Christmas all the year.
Thomas Miller.
ir cheer,
As fits the holy Christma
Be this, good friends, our carol still—
Be peace on earth, be peace on earth,
To men of gentle will.
~Thackeray.
RATES T1053.
A CHRISTMAS STORY.
It wasone of those strangely mild |
winters, of mingled drizzle and fog, |
which seem so emphatically to upset |
all our traditional notions of what a |
good old-fashioned Christmas should |
be. i
It wanted but three days to Christ- |
mas day, and the weather was a most
perverse combination of April and No- |
vember. Cheerless enough was it in|
the lighted streets of the towns and |
cities at 5 o'clock on this December |
evening. It will therefore be easily |
imagined what sort of a prospect was |
Lincolnshire fen-country.
miles distant from the Wash itself,
farmhouse proper would not have
land to the vast expanse of reed-cov- |
higher ground than the greater part |
turnips forming the chief portion of |
one-storied, and had as much of a}
be ex-|
alone on a small expanse of cultivated |
it |
miles distant from the nearest market |
man about sixty years of, age, who, |
whom he had brought up), formed the
mixture of shrewdness and stupidity—
stupidity as to what actually went on
lowed a double occupation, which may
some of the London dealers, with wild
the remainder of the year he fattened
cality being especially suited to the
In all this, and the cultivation of his
Stenhouse, a stalwart, active young
charge of by old Furriner, and became
and daughter. The former was simply
presented to the eyes of travelers—if, |
In one of the wildest parts of its in- |
there stood an old building, partly |
thriven in this district, on account of |
ered swamp. There were, however, |
of the surrounding country, a few
thecrops. The house itself was along,
home look about it as could
land, an oasis in the midst of the]
town.
with his wife and daughter, and a!
household of “ Marsh Farm,” as it was
that is to say, of shrewdness relating
in the outer world away from his own
be briefly described. He supplied the
ducks, widgeon, teal and other birds
a considerable quantity of domestic
rearing of this branch of the poultry
small farm—if it really deserved such
fellow of six-and-twenty, who, left an
quite one of the family. Very little
one of those motherly, home-loving
VOLUME XV,
Editor
mir
of thousands in every olass in Eng
Rose Furriner was a fine rosy
and-twenty, who helped her mother in
her home duties, fattened the getse,
baked the barley bread, and even helped
to eultivate the farm. She was “en
gaged” to Robert Stenhouse. What
else could be expected, when she never
saw any other young man, and
scarcely any other young woman?
Chey were to be married this Christ
mas, and would continue to live at
Marsh farm. So all things would go
on as before, and the little community
un
he
LAS SO Mans
domestic communities are) by
Mrs, Furriner and hardaunghter wers
plucking a couple of plump wild ducks
old
i
I'he
pint appearanee of the intarior of the
oil biack-rafterad Kitchen, and the pic
turesque faces of the group in the
ruddy fire-glow, formed a tout ensem-
“It's a rare fine night for teal,” said
rom his
lune
imney; “and
“Yes, and you're growing lazy,
idle in the corner, and Bob out alone
sald his daughter.
“I mind the time,” said the dame,
briding up, as people will if
younger ones venture to hint that they
are not so brisk as they once were,
“when your father was the smartest
3
old
“Oh, mother I” cried Rose, laughing,
colnshire ¥”
“She took stock of a pretty good lot
ner, chuckling as he winked at his
“1 had my share of notice,” re
“Many a time I've been near up to
waiting to get a shot at a widgeon or
mother,
“To please my whims, father!” ex-
Rose, indignantly. “Why,
what do you mean? He's gone be
for teal that it would be a sin to lose
“ He's just gone because he knows a
leash or two of teal would feteh a high
price now,” said her father. “And a cer-
tain young woman fancied a red cloth
Rose blushed consciously.
“ And that's why T'm sitting in the
man,” continued her father, looking at
cheek. *D’ye think I'm
my neck in mud on a night like this
my
Not 1,” said he,
smoking away furiously, but with a
good humor in his eye
which quite belied his words.
“Up to his neck in mud, father?”
xiously. “You
of
ar
al
And the good woman looked a trifle
uneasy as she turned and listened to
wily against the
“And
Never fear, he's all right.
of the
Rose took her father's view
Not so the dame.
“ Just listen to this rain, Ralph!”
she said, persistingly.
“Well, it do rain a bit,” said he,
“It's enough to drown the very ducks
themselves. Why, Ralph, it's never
rained like this, all the thirty years
we've lived in the Marsh.”
The old man was struck by the man-
ner in which his wife persisted in her
fears (a most unusual circumstance
with her), and, not without some
anxiety himself, he slowly rose, laid
down his pipe, and cautiously half
opened the door, But he had
so than both rain and
not only was the candle, which old
Furriner held, extinguished, but also
the candles upon the table at which
the women sat busied with their pre-
parations for cooking.
Rose, who was by nature extremely
lighthearted, burst into a laugh. But
this roused her mother, who indig-
nantly threw upon the table the half-
plucked duck she held in her lap, and
said, in a tone of great asperity :
“ And you to laugh, lass, when your
sweetheart may be drowning! Shame
1
“ Drowning, mother I” said Rose,
mean that ¥”
Mrs. Furriner hesitated when she
glanced at her daughter's pale face,
for she had relighted the candles.
She did not .indeed believe that her
future son-in-law was exactly in
peril of his life; but at the same
she was aware that a passage
through the fens, which must now be
gradually becoming one vast sheet of
water, would be extremely difficult,
and probably also dangerous. The old
man, too, began to look serious, as he
resolutely took down a suit of oilskins,
with which he prepared to cover his
somewhat shrunken, but still sturdy
limbs,
“What art about?” asked his wife,
“I'll even go and meet the lad my-
self,” was the reply.
“Why, Ralph, the path tracks must
be all under water.”
“I'll go, I tell ye,” said he; “and
take the brown pony; I'll maybe be of
use. Iknow my y# for miles and
miles beyond Rate’s Moss, where Bob's
gone after the teal, and happen has
lost his tracks. I'll go, I tell ye!”
“Then I'll go, too,” said the old
woman, firmly.
“(Chut, chut, Polly,” said her hus-
band; “who's to look after the girl.
then? * We can’t take her, lass.”
“ Ay, that's true!” said the dame.
All this while Rose, with pale face
and trembling lips, had watched the
anxious, troubled looks of her father
and mother, and her heart boded she
knew not what of ill.
“But is there any danger, father?”
she stammered.
Furriner moved impatiently, but
made no reply.
“ Best tell her all,” said her mother.
indeed, there were any—through the
terminable swamps, and not many
farmhouse, partly nondescript. A |
the very small proportion of arable |
around the house, which stood on]
tolerably well-cultivated acres of land,
low building, nearly all of wood and
pected, considering that it stood quite |
dreary flats, and was some six or eight |
The master of this building was a |
young man in his employ (an orphan,
called. Ralph Furriner was a curious
to his own immediate affairs, and of
isolated dwelling. The old man fol-
nearest market town, and sometimes
frequenting the fensin winter. During
ducks and geese for the market, the lo-
trade.
a name—he was assisted by Robert
orphan atan early age, had been taken
need be said of the duck-shooter’s wife
women who are to be reckoned by tens
night as this. Take care of thysslf,
old man,'’ she added, kissing her hus
band as he prepared to start with as
much warmth as she had done in thelr
earlier days; “and be sure take Brown
King: the eritter's as much sense as a
Christian, and a good deal more than
some of them.”
“ Ay, ay; cheer up, old lass,” was the
answer,”
And the old man returned his wife's
embrace and was gone,
I'he rain poured down in torrents
that seemed to threaten a second del
uge, as Furriner sought the little sta
Me where Brown King, little dreaming
of any interraption to his privacy, was |
on his litter of pea |
considerable i
master
quietly reposing
straw: and not without
resistance on his part did his
make him comprehend that he w
quired to leave his comfortable 1 or |
l and desolate fens. At last, !
the bleak
he was duly saddled and
however,
bridled.
Furriner turned the pony’s head in
the direction of Rate’s Moss, a famous
resort of teal and widgeon, to which he
knew that his future son-in-‘aw had
proceeded. When there he trusted to
iis own knowledge
the sagacity of his pony, to find young
Stenhouse,
three miles from the
great distance, it is true, in the well
i
able one in the fens of
an old manand a pony.
The wild fowl shooter knew every
inlet, pool and reed-covered islet of the
fens; but with such violence did the
rain beat in his face and so rapidly
ously alarmed as to the result of his
At first, indead, he had
idly in the direction of Rate's Moss ;
but he was growing old, and at last,
feeling that his knees were becoming
numbed and chilled by the wind and
' up the idea of steering the pony and
| trust to the animal's own sagacity.
that Rate’'s Moss was the usual hunt-
found the rein slackened than he took
| that in
guiding him. The pony in fact was
right, for Furriner had been wander-
ing about, al in a circle, being
unable, through the darkness, to dis-
cern the well known spots, which in
| the daytime would have served him
as landmarks.
{ Half an hour had elapsed, and Fur-
most
i
| spot he desired to reach. He hallooed
some response from his adopted son,
straining every faculty to its utmost
tension to catch a reply. Nothing,
of the rain in the surrounding pools,
or the occasional “ quack ” of a startled
allard, broke the ominous
The old man dreading he scarcaly knew
what, again called loudly upon young
Stenhouse ; but again was he destined
to disappointment. He could
however, in the darkness observe the
pricked ears and startled glance of
Brown King, who, with his sense of
hearing, more acute than that of his
master, had heard, or imagined he
heard, an answer to the old man’s
shouts, and began tomove forward at a
sharper pace,
“ Whoa—steady!” called " Furriner,
scarcely able to keep his seat, from the
uncertain nature of the bog through
which Brown King was stumbling.
But the pony would not “whoa.” On
the contrary,
reeds and mire with as much alacrity
| as he could summon up, and at last
| suddenly halted, and placing his fore-
mn
{ ground he could pick out, pricked up
| his ears again, and gave a loud, sonor-
| ous neigh.
Even the benumbed faculties
| Furriner were aroused at this,
of
| doan’t!” ejaculated the old fellow, joy-
{ fully. “Well done, King, boy!"
As if to reward the sagacious ani-
{ mal's efforts, a shout——faint, it is true,
i but still distinguishable—was now
| heard, in answer to its friendly neigh,
| upon which Brown King again began
{ to move forward, but this time more
| slowly than before, picking his way
{ with the utmost caution and judgment.
{ They were now in the very center of
| Rate’s Moss, and it was really marvel-
ous how the poor animal, without fal-
his rider was of no avail.
riner start as if he had been shot, they
heard the voice of Robert Stenhouse,
“ Here, father, quick! quick!” it said;
“I'm nearly dead already.”
“ Where art, lad?” screamed the old
man, straining his eyes in vain to see
through the pitch-black darkness,
“Where art?”
But the young man, in despair, and
no doubt impelled by a sudden instinet,
made no reply in words, but gave a
short, sharp, shrill whistle, well-known
to Brown King.
The pony recognized it instantly,
and, with a neigh of exultation, turned
abruptly to the left, whinnying as he
went, as horses do when they follow
the call of a friend. Not more than
forty yards did the docile animal travel
before he brought his rider face to face
with young Stenhouse. But what.a
situation !
The young man had descended from
the more solid part of the surrounding
land, and jumped, as it appeared, into
rain, however, had rendered the water
far deeper than he expected, and
moreover, the thick black mud which
formed the bottom of the pool had be-
come a perfect quagmire. The intense
cold, too, had so far benumbed young
Stenhouse's hands and feet that he
was all but powerless to assist him-
self.
There he stood nearly up to his neck
in thick, slimy ooze, which had almost
the consistency of birdlimne, The situ-
ation, which in the daytime and a dif-
ferent period of the year would have
been ludicrous, was now serious. The
more the poor fellow struggled, the
deeper he sank. On the other hand, if
he remained still, the cold would stag-
nate his blood and insensibility and
death would follow.
Old Furriner, who took in the danger
of the position at a glance, turned pale
and clenched his hands together be-
neath his riding-cloak., ile, neverthe-
less, tried his utmost to encourage the
neerly exhausted young man.
“ Cheery, laddie, cheery!” he said,
dismounting from Brown King. “Bear
a good heart.”
“ Ay, ay, father,” returned the other,
faintly. .
a
*"
“Stay a bit, Bob," ealled Furriner,
belt,”
“Nyow me your shooting
With terrible exertion the young
man did so, He had previously thrown
it over hisshoulder to relieve his walst
from its weight, when he first found
himself sinking deep into the mud,
“ Now your handkerchief,” said Fur.
riner.
The old man tied the belts and the
handkerchiefs belonging to himself
and Stenhouse together, and even their
neckties, but was st¥l unable to reach
the poor half-dead young fellow,
“The bridle, father, the bridle I"
exclaimed,
“ Yes yes,” cried the old man; “to
be sure, to besure! How could I for-
got it?
He added the bridle to the length of
extempore chain, and by dint of
exertion managed to
within a few inches
he
his
considerable
throw one end of it
of the young man’s shoulder, which,
with the exception of his head and
arms, was the only part of his body
Iiut here arose a fresh difli-
culty. Robert Stenhouse’s fingers were
s0 benumbed by continual exposure to
theseverity of the weather that he was
unable to grasp the friendly rope
visible
| ever, he caught hold of it with his
| teeth,
“1 can't hold it, father!” he called
out, despairingly.
“Put your fingers in your mouth,
lad,” calledout the old man; “that'll
{ warm "em a bit, and don't struggle.”
The young man obeyed, and as the
| storm had now somewhat abated he
| was able, after some few minutes, to
partially thaw his frozen fingers. Then,
by the direction of the duck-shooter,
| he secured the end of the
bridle as firmly as he could
{ around his arm. But the
| efforts of the old man were found to.
i tally inadequate to assist his comrade
{ to climb tothe higher ground. For a
{ moment a dull despair fell upon both;
| but young Stenhouse, whose usually not
| very acute perceptions were sharpened
{ by his imminent peril, bethought him
of Brown King.
{ “Tie your end to King, father,” he
| shouted out, his strength fast failing
him, “ and make him pull”
The pony seemed to understand what
was expected of him, and allowed the
| chain of handkerchiefs and belts to be
fastened around him. Furriner so
managed this as not to impede the actior
of the animal's hind legs, and
i good deal of straining on the part ol
Brown King, and a good deal of coax-
ing and encouragement on the part of
his master, Stenhouse was so far extri-
cated from his perilous situation as to
| be able, with the help of the old man,
{to clamber to the higher ground,
whereon stood his deliverers, Furriner
| carried a small brandy-flask, which was
of infinite service to both the men,
{and in a briefer period than might
have been expected the younger had
{ recovered the full use of his facultie
Even the pony scemed to be aware of
i the service he had rendered, and stood
with arched neck and expanded eye
waiting for the applause he had
earned,
“ He shall be pensioned off, when he
| gots old, for this night's work, shan't
he, father,” said the young man, patting
the shaggy sides of the animal,
“ Aye, that he shall, Bob, and what's
more to the purpose, he shall have a
double feed of corn to-night,” returned
the old man, the tears glistening in his
eves. “And now let's get back, or the
women will be in a fine pother.”
The journey home from Bates Moss
was a little more satistactory to old
Fu.oiner than he had anticipated it
would be, and was far more quickly
performed than before, A large string
of wild fowl hung from the holsters of
Brown King's saddle, a prize which
| young Stenhouse had nearly paid for
{ with his life.
“ Rose's scarlet jacket was near cost.
ing dearer than she thought for, eh,
father 7" he said, gravely.
{ “Ay, thou wast a'ways overrash,
| laddie,” said the old man. “Let this
{ be a caution.”
{ “But then, father, Rose
“Ay, ay, I know all about that,”
interrupted the old man; “ well, well,
I've been young myself, But remem.
| ber, Bob, there ain't no real courage
in fool-hardiness. A manain't to risk
i his life for the whims of a pretty girl,
i not if she was twenty times engaged
{ to him, that's my view on't. Reason-
{ able efforts to please is one thing, and
| unreasonable follies is another.”
| “You're right, father,” said
{ “and Rose "ll say so too.”
| What Rose said, you
| readers all !
The Origin of Life.
Men of science may amuse them-
selves by speaking of life being brought
{to the earth by the arrival of a me-
| teor, in reality a fragment of some once
{ peopled world which has been destroyed
{ by conflict with another or by internal
{ disturbance. But this is more a scien-
tific jest than a grave reality, As-
tronomy knows nothing of worlds com-
ing into conflict. On the contrary, the
laws of motion assure us that if any-
| thing is so unlikely that it may be re-
garded as absolutely impossible, it is
the encounter of two orbs in mid space;
nor have we any reason to suppose
Jhat a planet can be rent into frag
ments by internal convulsions. If we
had, we have not the slightest reason
for supposing that orbs thus unfortu.
nate would be more likely to be in.
habited than their more lucky fellow
worlds, If these were inhabited al
ready, we gain nothing by bringing to
them the fragments of other worlds
which have exploded ; and if they were
not inhabited, while the burst or shat-
tered worlds were, we are called on to
imagine (for no one can believe) the
absurdity that only inhabited worlds
are liable to destruction, for the benefit
of those which are without inhabitants,
To which absurdity this additional one
is superadded, that the seeds of life
would survive the destruction of their
planet home, and the journeying
through millions on millions of years
(rather millions of millions) which
science assures us they would have to
make through the cold of interstellar
space before they would fall on any
other world. And all these absurdi-
ties to no purpose, so far as the origin
of life is concerned, for they take us
back but a step, which brings us in re-
ality no nearer to all life,— Professor
Proctor, in Belgravia.
n
after a
;
*"
he *
may guess,
Diphtheria and Cats.
Dr. William Bunce, of Oberlin, Ohio,
has seen two marked instances in
which it seemed almost positive that
diphtheria had been introduced into
families by cats, Just previous to the
occurrence of the disease in his pa.
tients the family cat had been observed
to have diphtheretic membrane in the
throat which, in one case, the children
had endeavored to remove before they,
themselves, were taken sick.—Dr.
HUMANANIMAL TRAITS,
The Practice af sulelde Hypnotism and
CUatulepay in Housis, Birds and Heptiles,
In ull forms of animals we may find
the suleide, the lunatic, as well as the
victim of hypnotism; in fact, animals,
the lower cues as they are termed,
seein affected by the realities of life
very much as are tneir intelligent su-
periors, bulcide among animals is
mon, and the story of the
Id erassing-sweeper 18 by no means an
Dogs have been seen to
rately drown themselves, and the
same has been elted among other ani
] : gradual sul-
the
one,
te co
isolated case,
dedi ne
Curious cases of
have been observed among
: ids known as holothurians:
the synapta, being an adept in the art,
if s0 we may call it, In lifethe crea
ture is elmgate, olten as clear as crys-
tal, bearing a tint of delicate rose or
pink, while the body is dedecked with
seemingly silken bands of the most
texture If the creature is
placed in an aquarium and totally de-
prived of food for three weeks, a percepti-
bie change will be discerned; not ema-
ciation, an indentation appears,
forming a circle about the animal,
ly growing deeper and deeper,
until finally, by muscular contraction,
the part is ac
The has found
retrenchment necessary, and
reased its size, thus lessening
the demand. If food is still kept from
another ring appears, and a
second part is thrown off, and so on,
atl intervals, until in a few days the
at was eighteen inches Jong
is now a small oval mass surmounted
by the flower-like tentacles, resembling
a sea-anemone. This is head and
mouth for which the entire body has
been sacrificed, and it too, finally dies,
if food in the shape of sand or food is
still withheld. effect of starva-
fon varies in different animals. Sub
ject an adult Hydrold medusa to it,
and it will change to the polyp form
the larval form of its kind. In the
higher forms of medusa a decrease in
the number of the young is noticed,
while among mollusks such privation
has produced changes in the progeny
delicate
but
Hn complete severance of
animal
is
complished.
that
has dex
it, soon
animal th
the
The
Certain moths, partly starved, lost in
their larval state the power of spin.
ning a cocoon. Indead, the lack of food,
and forcing animals to partake of cer.
tain kinds, is often productive of the
most remarkable results. 1f the par.
rot, so common in Brazil, is fed upon
the fat of the green
feathers change to red; and it is said
that if the richly decorated Indian
bird, lori rajah, is deprived of its ac
customed food,
wane, Bullfinches grow darker, even
black, under a hemp-seed diet, and the
srange-colored canaries, now so much
in #emand, are said to owe thelr bril-
bunt tints to dieting on Spanish
peppers.
Neorpl are extremely prone to
suleide when subjected to great phys.
teal pain, Place one within a circle of
fire, and it
ward its tail and wound itself fatally,
seemingly preferring to die in this way
than to endure the torture of fire
Spiders and ants attempt the same,
tearing off their own legs and sting
ing their Crabs and lobsters
ften throw off their claws and legs
5 ch
certain nsnes,
His
bodies,
fishes, when
fairly drop in pieces,
found a snail that, did he attempt to
take it by the tail, would throw off that
useful member and elude his grasp.
The same is true of the so-called glass
snake, which often breaks inte several
sections when alarmed,
Insane horses ar
rence. One of th
of these mind affections is hypnotism,
that in man or beast has within the
present year attracted so much atten-
tion. The term, perhaps, originated
with Dr. Braid, who, in
the excitement aroused by Mesmer in
1778, referring the phenomena of ani-
mal magnetism to certain psychologi-
cal and physiological influences in the
subject. Heapplied it to his patients,
and succepded in performing many
painless operations that have been re-
peated in the curious experiments of
Dr. Hammond. That animals are sub-
ject to similar influences has long been
known. Herein Mes the magic of the
snake charmer and the
snake itself over the young bird.
most venomous snakes have
drawn from their holes by the actions
of these mediums, and handled by them
with perfect safety,
an authentic case as follows:
“ An eminent physician, skeptical on
this point (serpents and birds being
drawn and held by a charm), in
company with other English gentle-
men, thus tested the fact: Taking a
serpent-charmer along, they brought
him to a distant pile of rubbish, and
The
as
1
ig
that there m
ticed upon
movements.
with a serpent-like
working of the features and
which became more and more
and violent, presently
ht be no deception prac-
limbs,
excited
serpent after
showed their heads and gradually
moved toward their charmer, until,
reaching out his hand, he took them as
so many lifeless withes and deposited
them in his basket.”
As early as 1646 Athanasius Ker-
cher, an Italian monk, wrote upon
what he called “ Experimentum mir-
abile,” and his experiments upon
the imaginations of certain hens, tying
and then releasing them, but, by the
use of chalk marks, leaving them under
the impression that they were still fast,
are not devoid of interest,
Professor Czermak, of the University
of Leipsic, has made interesting exs
periments with animals, and evidently
finds a satisfaction in the work, as he
says: “ With amimals every one feels
safe from wll thoughts of deception.”
One of his most interesting experi-
ments was with crawfish, with which
he appeared a medinm of decided
power, His passes caused the animals
to become stiff and immovable, stand-
ing ontheir heads and in other curious
positions, while other passes enabled
them to crawl off. The playing 'pos-
sum of many animals is undoubtedly
from a similar cause. We have often
seen hermits in the South drop as if
dead when touched: insects will do the
same, and hardly anything but positive
injury will induce them to move,
In jail at Los Angeles, Cal, is a four
teen-year-old boy, James Green, who
has a eriminal record second to none in
the country. The past three years of
his life have been mostly spent behind
the bars of the prison he is now an in-
mate of on a charge of burglary, and,
as he has pleaded guilty, he will short~
ly take up his quarters at San Quentin
sr Folsom.
In ancient Egypt, when a eat died
in the house, the inhabitants shaved
their eyebrows; if a dog died, they
shaved their whole body, In Athens,
one of the laws of Triptolemus de
clared that no one had a right to infiet
{a wrong upon a living ereaeurs, The
Greeks were aware of the tender and
affectionate care which the young of
the stork exhibited for their old
parents, and recorded that, when the
latter lost their feathers from age, the
young stripped themselves of thelr
down for them and fgl them with the
food they collected, This was the
origin of the Greek law called “the
law of the stork,” by virtue of which
children were obligated to take
care of their aged parents, and
those who refused to do so were
declared infamous, How different
is it in our modern societies! Pier
quin remarks with reason that, as
man rises, he treats animals as if they
were correspondingly degraded. For
a long time they had the same rights.
During the middle ages they were
allowed a part in religious ceremonies,
At Milan they figured in the festivals
of the kings ; and processions of ani-
mals appear in the bas reliefs of the
cathedrals of Strasburg, Mans and
Vienne (Isere). On Holy Wednesday
all the clergy of the church ofgRRheims
went to Saint Remi to make a station
there ; the canons, preceded by the
cross, were arranged in two lines, each
drawing a herring after him with a
cord ; and each one was intent upon
saving his own fish, and stepping upon
that of the canon in front of him ( An-
quetil, “Histoire de Reims.” ) At Paris
the procession of the fox was as much
| enjoyed as the festival of the ass, The
animal, dressed in a kind of surplice,
wearing the mitre, had his place in
the midst of the clergy; a fowl was
put within his reach; he often forgot
his pious functions to spring upon the
bird and devour it in the presence of
the faithful. Philip the Fair was very
fond of this procession (Sanval, “An-
tiquites de Paris”). Only a few years
ago the procession of the fat ox re
mained, a survival from the pagan
feasts, a real piece of wreckage from
vanished civilizations,
While the rights of animals were
thus recognized, their duties toward
man did not escape the earlier legisla-
tors, who severely punished their
crimes and attempts upon human life,
The law of Moses { Exodus xxi, 28, 20)
recites: “If an ox gore a man or
shall be surely stoned, and his flesh
shall not be eaten: but the owner of
the ox shall be quit. But if the ox
were wont to push with his horn in
| time past, and it hath been testified to
his owner, and he hath not kept him in,
but that he hath killed a man or a
{ woman ; the ox shall be stoned, and
{ his owner also shall be put to death,”
{ Judgments based on this principle
are recorded at Athens and Rome. Ae-
cording to Pierquin, Democritus wished
an animal, which had occasioned some
major damage, to be punished with
death,
the report of Martial, the ingratitude
of a lon toward its master was se
verely punished. Columella and Varro
say that the angient Romans regarded
the ox as th * companion of the labors
{ of man, and that the act of killing one
was regarded as a homicide and pun-
joyed the same privilege in Attica and
the Peloponnesus. It is also said that
| the Arabs in the mountains of Africa
{ ders, upon trees, as warnings to others.
Popular Science Monthly.
of the Presidents.
In the patent office at Washington
there are many objects of interest con-
{nected with the government and
those who administered its affairs in
| times gone by, A friend of the writer
gays that while examining some of
{those objects of curiosity, nothing
| struck him so forcibly as the samples
| of small locks of hair taken from the
{ heads of different chief magistrates,
i from Washington down to President
| Plerce, secured in a frame covered
| with glass. Here is, in fact, a part
{and parcel of what constituted the
{ living bodies of those illustrious in-
| div iduals whose names are familiar as
| household words, but who now live
| only in history and the remembrance
| of the past,
The hair of Washington is nearly a
| pure white, fine and smooth in its ap-
| pearance,
| That of John Adams is nearly the
|
| The Hair
{ same color, though perhaps a little
| CORIser,
The hair of Jefferson is of a different
character, being a mixture of white
and auburn, or a sandy brown, and
j rather coarse. In his youth Mr.
{ Jefferson's hair was remarkable for its
bright color,
The hair of Madison is coarse, and
{ of a mixed white and dark.
dark auburn, smooth, and free from
any mixture, Helis the only Presi-
dent, excepting Pierce, whose hair has
undergone no change in color,
The hair of John Quincey Adams is
somewhat peculiar, being coarse and a
yellowish gray in color,
The hair of General Jackson is al-
most a perfect white, but coarse in its
character, as might be supposed by
those who have examined the portraits
of the old hero.
The hair of Van Buren is white and
smooth in appearance,
The hair of General Harrison is a
fine white, with a slight admixture of
black,
The hair ef John Tyler is a mixture
of white and brown.
The hair of James K. Polk is almost
a pure white,
The hair of Genéral Taylor is white,
with a slight admixture of brown,
The hair of Millard Fillmore is, on
the other hand, brown, with a slight
admixture of white,
The hair of [Franklin Pierce is a
dark brown, of which he had a plen-
tiful crop.
It Is somewhat remarkable, how-
ever, that since Pierce's time no one
has thought of preserving the hair of
his successors. There are vacancies in
the case, but there is no hair (or was
not a short time Spee) either of Bu-
chanan, Lincoln, Johnson, Grant,
Hayes, Garfield: or Arthur, for the in.
gpection of futurity,
During their occupancy of the
nresidential chair, Buchanan's hair
was nearly a pure white; that of Lin-
coln’s dark and wiry, liberally sprinkled
with silver threads; Johnson's was
iron-gray——in youth his hair was coal-
black and very luxuriant; Grant's was
dark and coarse; Hayes’ sandy and
mixed with white; Garfield's a beau-
tiful auburn, while that of Arthur is
brown and wavy.
During Christmas week the number
| We now take a direct course for
| Montreal Point, our guide running be
{ fore, in a steady, swinging trot pecu-
| liar to Indian runners, while our dogs
follow in good form, At intervals we
| drop Into a light slumber, to be sud-
denly awakened by the loud crack of a
| loaded whip and the responsive ery of
a lazy dog. As the sun is setting in
| the west, going down into the appar-
| ently boundiess lake, we halt on the
ledge of a huge drift, near the shore,
| which is at this point dotted with
| thickets of spruce and balsam, and get
| out of our carrioles stifity enough after
| our long journey, The sleds are drawn
| into the timber, and our little party go
| at the work of clearing with snowshoes
a place for the camp, This accom-
| plished, the fire is built, green boughs
fare laid for our beds, blankets and
{ robes are brought forth ; and while we
| stretch ourselves lazily before the
| bright fire of tamarack, our guide pre-
| pares supper, and his assistants unhar.
| ness the dogs and prepare their meal
of fresh whitefish. As we recline in
| perfect comfort, a shrike or butcher
| bird, the first life we have seen in the
| woods to-day, hops from the bough
| above us, and helps itself from the
| pemmican-bag;: then fies saucily
{over our heads toward his cule; by
i return in a few moments for more,
{ The shrike is truly a camp bird, and
{ on discovering the smoke from some
| newly-built camp fire, as it curls up-
| ward through the trees, does not rest
{till it has reached the camp and
{sampled the cookery. The Indian
| seldom molests this arch thief, but
| laughs quietly at its saucy chatter,
| having a belief that in days past Wab-
se-i-ka-chak, as he calls it, has been in
{some way of service to his people
| After a hearty supper of pemmican,
| potato and bannock, we sit and listen
{to the monotonous tones of the In-
| dians, who are recounting journeys to
| different parts of the far north coun-
| try, while they smoke their tiny stone
| pipes, filled with a mixture of willow
| bark and tobacco. Our twelve dogs
| are grouped on the solid drift near the
shore. The largest dog occupies the
| most elevated part of the bank, the
place of honor, while the others sit
solidly on their haunches and gaze
steadily at their leader, who is now the
picture of profundity, with a far-off,
dreamy look in his eyes which his fel-
lows are making a vain attempt to
imitate. The moon is coming up now,
and as it softly rises, causing the frost-
covered trees to glisten in its light, the
leader utters a plaintive wail, which is
taken up by his companions, softly at
first; then the leader gives forth a
louder cry, another, and soon the
whole pack there in the weird
light are howling in fearful
| discord. Suddenly the leader ceases,
| and gradually the others become quiet
{and curl themselves about the fire,
i The Indians soon are snoring in heavy
| sleep, the fire burns low, the trees
| crackle with frost, we hear a com-
mingling of sounds, and, at last, sleep
| too,
| We rest comfortably, with nothing
{ above our heads save the beautiful
{dome of heaven, with its twinkling
| stars, which are dimmed at times by
{the magnificent and ever-changing
| aurora, which here reaches gatest
| brilliancy, The Indians call this elt
tric phenomena Wah-wah-tao, and
fancy it to be the spirits of the de-
| parted dancing oh the borders of the
| land of the hereafter. While it is yet
dark our drivers arise, with sundry
grunts and remarks in Indian language
relative to the probable weather and
winds of the coming day; and soon a
large fire, crackling and sending sparks
over our heads without regard to con-
sequences, is the alarm which brings
us quickly from our snug beds. Break-
fast dispatched, our dogs are placed in
harness, we take seats in the carrioles,
and are away with speed through the
gray light of dawn.—8t. Nicholas.
Pigeons in Military Service,
The employment of carrier pigeons
as carriers between military stations in
Arizona and other sections of the
Indian country, where the telegraph
lines are being constantly interfered
with by the hostiles, and where the
topography is not advantageous for
heliographing and other ordinary
methods of signaling, is receiving the
serious attention of the war office. In
a letter from Post Townsend, Wyom-
ing, General Nelson A. Miles says they
can be made very useful in this direc
tion, as he has demonstrated to his en-
tire satisfaction, and General Hazen,
the chief signal officer, who is testing
every plan ana suggestion looking to
the greater efliciency of his bureau and
increased benefit to the general publie,
has taken the subject actively in hand,
desiring to make this agency a valuable
ally of the army in
in behalf of civilization against
| barbarism on our Western plains.
| For two hundred miles these pigeons
will travel as fast as the railway rapid
| mail, and, through a hostile country, ,
| will reach their destination more surely
{ than most men. Flying by sight, they
| are especially valuable in regions where
| there are prominent mountain peaks,
| Between twosuch posts as Forts Thomas
Land Apache and Thomas and San Car-
{ los, Arizona, entirely a hostile country,
broken and difficult, and in which
| travel is slow and impossible when the
| intervening streams are flooded—t
| would be of vast value compared wit
| the insignificant cost of maintaining and
training them. Troops on detached ser-
vice, with no other means of communi-
cation, can employ them to convey im-
portant information with great expedi-
dition. Country physicians in England
use them to great advantage with dis-
tant families. The middle feather of the
tail is shaved within an inch of the end,
and the message lashed thereto firmly
with waxed silk. They sheuld be written
inlead pencil, as ink runs, Placed there
they do not annoy the bird, but tied on
the leg they interfere with his flying,
and he is liable to peck and mutilate
the message, rendering it unintelligible
by his efforts to remove it. The clear
air of Arizona and the Occident is just
the element for these birds, and they
are just the agency to supplement the
telegraph and ordinary courier system
employed by our troops in their opera-
tions against the red buccaneers of the
West. Having set in mction a plan to
protect our cotton, sugar and fruit in-
dustries, and having enlarged the
sphere of life-saving and coast-line
operations as a supplement to the mil-
itary telegraph lines on the frontier,
General Hazen deserves and will re-
ceive for this carrier pigeon enterprise
the heartfelt thanks of every soul ex-
posed to the onsets of the marauding
red devils of the plains, be they Sioux,
Apaches, Kiowas, Cheyennes, or what
not.— Washington Republican.
etc ——
It is said that there are upward of
8,000 steam plowing machines now
of “gifted” people heavily increases.
employed in England and Scotland,
Hut winter fields are rare
With diamonds everywhere,
Oh, summer has the wild bees,
And the ringing, singing note
In the robin's tunefai throst,
And the leaf -talk in the wees;
But winter has the chime
Of the merry Christmas time.
Oh, summer has the luster
Of the sunbeams warm and bright,
And rains that fall at night
Where reeds and lilies cluster;
Bat deep in winter's snow
The fires of Christmas glow.
~Susan Harley, in St. Nicholas.
HUMOR OF THE DAY.
A new party--The baby, 1
Children’s balls ought to be encour-
sged. Doctors say it is healthy for
children to ery. J
A race between a carri and
a wan kicked by a mule would be very
close if the pigeon had half a mile the
start.
“How to treat a woman,” is the title
of an unnecessary article in an ex-
change. Every man knows how to
treat a woman, If she is & sweet.
heart, treat her to oysters; if a wife,
treat her to a new bonnet,
“You are such a strange girl." said
Charley; * reaily, I don’t know what
to make of you" “Well, then, I'll
tell you, Charley,” replied Araminta;
“ make a wife of me.” Charley didso
at the earliest opportunity. 1
Professor (explaining the influence
of different densities of air and sound
—* If, now, from here we should hear
the steamboat whistle down in the
harbor, what should we infer?
Bright Junior—* Steamboat coming
in.
It is asserted that some of the bags
of dates which come to this country
contain cannon-balls weighing i1welve
and fifteen pounds. How much better
than firing balls at us from the can-
non’s mouth it is to thus send them in
a quiet, unobtrusive way! No blood
is spilt, no bones broken, the sender |
finds it easter.and than filling
his bags exclusively with fruit, and the
receiver gets full weight, and therefore
cannot complain. This is, indeed, a
fruitful cause for congratulation!
Mr. Peet, a rather diffident man,
was unable to prevent himself from
being introduced one evening to a fas-
cinating young lady, who, misunder-
standing his name, constantly ad-
dressed hima as Mr. Peters, much to
the gentleman's distress. Finally,
summoning courage, he bashfully but
earnestly remonstrated: “Oh, don't
call me Peters; call me Peet.” * Ah,
but I don't know you well enouy
Mr, Peters,” said the young ,
blushing, as she playfully withdrew
part way behind her fan.
: : ANA PEEL.
Like 5 bar of the besten ney
1 eam In the pr's wun:
{ am liste, | know, but | think | can throw
A man that will weigh a ton.
i pend out no challenges bald,
1 blow me no vaunting bora,
But foolish is be who treadeth on me;
He'll wish be had ne'er been bom,
Like the flower of the fai vain man
Goeth forth st the break eof day,
But when be shall feel m rip on bis heat
Like the stabbio be 1) h away;
For 1 lift him high ap in the sir,
With his heels where his besd ought to be;
With a down-coming crash be maketh his mash, |
And I know he's clear gone spon me.
{ am scorned by the man who buys me;
an modest and quiet and 3 1d
1 my talonis are few, the work thst
rs hoe Thue Hw
I'm & blood-red republican born,
And a nikilist fesrioss I be;
Though the head wear a crown, 1 would briag its
pride down,
If it eet its proud heel upon me.
RB. J. Burdette, in Harper.
Some Cold Winters,
The following statistics of the good
old winters are curious: In 408 the
Black sea was entirely frozen over. In
761, not only the Black sea, but the
straits of the Dardanelles, were frozen
over ; the snow in some rose
fifty feet high. In 822the rivers
of Europe—the Danube and Elbe, etc.
—were 50 hard frozen as to bear heavy
wagons for a month. In 860 the Adri-
atic was frozen; the crops totally
failed, and famine and pestilence closed
the year. In 1067 the most of the
travelers were frozen to death on the
roads. In 1183 the Po was frozen
from Cremona to the sea; the wine
casks were burst, and even the trees
split by the action of the frost wits
immense noise. In 1336 the Dan.
ube was frozen to the bottom,
ind remained long in that
state. In 1316 the crops
wholly failed in Germany; wheat,
which some years before sold in Eng-
land at six shillings the quarter, rose
to £2. In 1339 the ecrcps failed in
Scotland, and such a famine ensued
that the poor were reduced to feed on
and many mi in
the A
1432-33-34 were uncommonly severe.
It once snowed forty days without in-
terruption. In 14G8 the wine dis- |
tributed to the soldiers in Flanders
was cut with hatchets. In 1684 the =
winter was excessively cold. Most of
the hollies werekilled. Coaches drove
along the Thames, the ice of which
was eleven inches thick. In 1709 oc-
curred a cold winter. The frosts pen-
etrated three yards into the
In 1715 booths were erected fairs
held on the Thames. In 1774 and
1745 the strongest ale in land, ex-
posed to the air, was in 1ss
than fifteen minutes with ice an eighth
of an inch thick. In 1809, and again
in 1822, the winters were remarkably
cold. In 1814 there was a fair on the |
frozen Thames, —Scient{fic American. |
Charles James Fox, being once at
Ascot races with his intimate com-
panion, General Conway, missed his | ¢
snuff-box. The general was lucky |
hoy B40 discover § het thief and seize
h ore he co away. Upon | H
this the man fell upon his knees, and |
with many tears besought Fox to par-
don him and not expose him to ruin,
for he was a poor weaver in great des-
titution, and this was the first :
against the laws that he had ever
mitted. Fox was gr
g use I
Jound Bo wd R in his
8 r t, jand, turn
General Conway, Besa) “]
e again!”
the latter, “I saw the
second time when you