IJJl COME AND TAKE ME. Dcvivier. VOL. 1. CLEARFIELD, TUESDAY, JULY 25, 1854. KO. 5. RAFTSMAN'S JOURNAL. Bk.". Jo-e3. Publisher. Per. tnoum, (payable in advatoe.) If paid within the year. After the expiration of the year. SI 00 1 ..0 2 00 No paper discontinued until all arrearages are paid. A failure to notify a db'ton't.innanee at the expi ration of the term subscribed for. will be consider ed a sew engagement. . RATilS OF ADVEBTISEINO. 1 ih3. 2 ivs. 3 ias. Four line or lets. S 25 3 37 J $ 50 One square (12 lines,) 50 75 1 00 Three squares. 1 50 2 00 2 50 Six lines or less, one rear, 4 00 One squire - 6 50 Three squires ' 12 CO Half a column " 25 Ort Advertisements not maiked with the number of insertions desired will be continued until directed to be stopped, and charged according to hesc terms. Business notices, in item column, eight cents per line for every insertion. All letters Ac. should be ad Iresscl. TSenj. .Tones "Raftsman's Journal," Clearfild. Pa., (post-paid to receive attention. There's a langsage in the winds that sigh, Through the branches of the trees, I pause to list as they wander by, The spirits of the breeze And often in my saddest mood, I turn from the world away. Alone in the dim wood's solitude, Where the wild winds are at play; And as they murmur pleasantly. From the depths of the greenwood lone, I deem their voices speak to me. Of my own. my mountain home ! It tells of the haunts of our happier hours, Of the meadows green and fair, Where tbe dew drops glisten upon the Cowers, As they sleep in the cool night air: I hear "blue Juniata's"' waves. Wirh their never ceasing flow, And see where the drooping willow laves Its boughs in the depths below. There summer skies the fairest seem, And dews the softest fall, The hallowe 1 spot of lifo's early dream, The rst, IcEt borne of all. There's sadness in the plaintive moan Of the wind in the hush of night, "When the light of beauty's smile has Sown, And the echoes of delight. Then frcm the forrest's deep recess, These viewless heralds come. A ad spefck to the soul in its loneliness, - From their cool, sequestered home; And there's sadness in the tales they bring From memory's silent shore. Of the blossoms of youth's happy spring, Whose sweetness now is o'er. 'Tis strange that o'er the chords which lie Within, so deep and still. The wandering wind as it passes by. Should awaken what notes it will1. The memories that have slept for years, The hopes, save to us unknown, Theso. as the present disappears, Make all the past our own. Then wa-derer I welcome thee, Who carst the past res'ore, Which, as it fast recedes from ino, I cherish more and more. INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL. Snakes ail Stu' e-Ch&rma2. To new-comers ia Hinlostan, and particular ly those of nervous temperament, snakes cf various kin is constitute a sourc i of perpetual alarm. Their numbers are immense, nnd r.o place ia sacred from their visitations. Just fancy the agreeable surprise resulting frcm such little occurrences as the following, which &re far from being rare. You get up in a morning, after a feverish night perhaps ; lan guidly you reach for your boots, and upon pul ling on one, fid something soft before your toes, and on turning it upside down, and giv ing it a shake, out pops a small snake of the carpet tribe as they are called probably from their domestic propensities wondering what can be the cause of his being thus rud-dy eject ed from his night" quarters. Or suppose, at any time during the diy, you should be musi cally inclined; you take your flute from its resting place, and proceed to screw it together, but find, on making an attempt to play, that something is the matter, and on peeping into it, discover that a little serpentine gentleman has there sought and found a snug lodgment. Perhaps your endeaver to give it breath with your mouth, make Mr. Sn ike feel his habit i tion in the instrument uncomfortably coll, an I ere you are aware of his presence, he is out, and wriggling among your fingers. Such incidents as these c tuse rather unpleas ant starts to those who are new to ITindostanic matters, though the natives of the ltnd, or persons who have been long resident in it, might only smile at the new-comer's uneasi ness, and tell him that these little' intruders were pcrfecily harmless. But even with the assurance of this fact, it is long ere most Eu ropeans cm tolerate the sight and presence of these snakes, much less feel comfortable under their cold touch. Besides, it is but too well known, that all theso creatures are not innoxi ous. Well do I remember, the fright that one poor fellow got ia the barracks at Madras. He had possibly been indulging too freely over night; at least when he rose, in the morning in question, he felt thirsty in the extreme. Yawn ing most rolcanically, he made up to one of the room windows, whore stood a large'water bottle or jar, one of those loag-nee'eed clay things in which they usually keep fluid in the East.' Upon taking this Inviting vessel into his hands, he observed that there seemed to be but little water in it, yet enough, as he thought to cool his parched threat ; and he had just ap plied it to his lips, when something touched them certainly not water, whatever else it might be. lie hastily withdraw the vessel from his mouth, though etil retaining it in his hands, when to his annzement and horror, a regular cobra, the most deadly and d mgcrous of all the common serpents of India, reared its hideously distended and spectacled head from thejtr, not a foot from its disturber s nose. "O murder !" cried the poor fellow, who was a son of Erin, and as he uttered the exclama tion, he dished bottle, 'snake, and all to the ground, and took to his heels, not stopping until he wis a full hunlred yan's from the spot. Here lie told his story in safety ; and the intruder was in good time got rid of by the cautious use of firearms. Very different from the conduct of this fel low, was that of one of his comndes in the b irr icks, who was exposed to an almost unpre r d nted trial from a similar cause. In the vicinity of the barracks !Pd to the Euro pean soldiers ia Indii, there is usually a num ber of little solitary buildings or cells, where the more disorderly members of the corps are confined for longer or shorter terms by order of the commanding officer. In one of these, on a crtain occasion, was locked up poor Jack Hall, a Scotchman, belonging to Edinburgh or Leith. Jack had got intoxicated, and being found ia that condition at the hour of drill, was sentence! to eight diy's solitary imprison ment. Soldiers in Indii have their bedding partly furnished by the Honorable Company, and find the rem tinder for th ems --Ives. About this part of house-furnishing, however, Jack Hall troubled himself very little, being one of those hardy, reckless beings on whom priva tion and sulTering seem to make no impression. A hard floor was as good as a down-bed to Jack; and, therefore, as he never scrupled to sell what he got, if may be supposed that Lis slew ing furniture was none of the most abundant or select. Such as it was, he was stretched upon and under it one night in big cell, during his terra of penance, and possibly was reflect ing on the impropriety of in futute putting "an enemy into his mouth to steal away his br ina," when, lot he thought he heard a rust ling in the cell, close by him. At this mo ment, he recollected that he had not, as he ought to have done, stopped up an airhole, which entered the cell on a level with its floor and also with the rock, externally, on which the building was planted. A strong suspicion of what had happened, or was about to hapjen. came over Hall's mind, but he knew it was probiblytoo late to do any good, could he even find the hole in the d irkness, and get it closed. He therefore, 1 iv still, and in anoth er minute or two he id another rustle close to him, which was followed hy the coll slimy touch of a snike upon his bare foot! "Who in such a situation would not have started and bawled for help? Jack did neither, he liy stone still, and held his peace, knowing that his cries would most probably have been un heard by the distant guard. Had his bed clothes been more plentiful, he might have en deavored to protect himself oy wrapping them closely around him, but this their scintiness forbade. Accordingly, being aware that, al though a motion or touch will provoke snakes to bite, they will not generilly do it without such incitement, Jack held himself as still as if he had been a log. Meanwhile his horrible bedfellow, which he at once felt to be of groat size, crept over his feet, legs, and body, and 1 istly, over his very face. Nothing but the most astonishing firmness of nerve, and the consciousness that the moving of a muscle would have signed his death warrant, caul 1 hive enabled the poor , fellow to undergo this dreadful tri il. For a whole hour did the rep t.l : crawl, backwards and forwards, over Jack's body and face, as if satisfying, seemingly, that it had nothing to tear from the recumbent ob ject on its own part. At length it took up a position somewhere about his heal, and went to rest in apparent security. The poor sol dier's trial, however, was not over. Till d ly light, he remained in the sane posture, flat on his back, without diring to stir a limb, from the feir of disturbing his dangerous compan ion. Never, perhaps, was dawn so anxiously longed for by m rtal man. When it did come, Jack ciutiously looked about him, arose noise lessly, and moved over to the corner of the cell, where there lay a pretty large stone. This he s -izt-d, and looked about for the in truder. Not seeing the si ike, he became as sured that it was under his pillow. He nised the end of this just sufficiently to get a peep of the creiture's crest. Jack then pressed hiskn.'C firmly on the pillow, but allowed the snake to wriggle out its head, which he batter e 1 to pieces with the stone. This done, the courageous fellow, for the first time, breathed freely. "When the hour for breakfast came, Jack who thought little about the matter after it wa3 fairly over, took the opportunity of opening the door to throw the sa ike out. When the officer whose duty it was to visit the cells for the diy, was going his. rounds, he perceived a crowd around the cell-door examining the rep tile, which was described by the native as of the most venomous character, Its bite being invariably and rapidly mortal. The officer, on being told that it had beeu killed by.a man in the adjoining cell, went in and inquired into the matter. 'When did you first know that there was 3 snake in the cell with you l said be. About nine o'clock last night,' was Jack's reply. Why didn't you call to the guard?' asked the officer. " I thought the guard wadna hear mi. and I was feared I might tramp on't, so I just lay still. 'But you might have been bit. Did you know that you would have died instantly ?' I kent that very weel.' sai 1 Jack; but they say that snakes winna meddle with you if you dinna meddle with them ; sae 1 just let it crawl as it liket.' Well, my lad, I believe you did what was best after all ; but it was what not one man in a thousand could have done.' When the story was told, and the snake shown to the commanding officer, he thought the same, and Jack, for his extraordinary nerve and courage, got a remission of his punish ment. For some time, at loist, lie took Care how he again got into such a situation as to ex pose himself to the chance of passing another night with such a bed-tellow. It has frequently been asserted, that the most tremendous of the snake tribe, the boa constrictor, does not now exist in Hin lostan, and has not done so for a consider ible time. This statement is to be t iken with some re servation. When our Anglo-Indian army were c illed in the field a few years ago, to teach a lesson to an obstinate native potentate, two of our soldiers left atempory encampment of the troops, in order to indulge in a bathe. They had a portion of jungle to cross, and in doing so, the foot of one of them slipped into a sort of hole. This proved to be an clephant-tr ip; that is so sty, a pit of considerable size dug in the earth, and covered over with branch es, sticks, and such like mitters, so as to deceive the wild eh. pliant into placing- his mighty weight upon it, when he sinks, and is un ible to gei Out again. The soldier got his foot withdrawn from the trap, though at the cost of his shoe, which the closeness of the branches caused to come off. Little did the poor fellow know at the moment what a fate he had narrowly escaped ! But he soon bee ime sensible of it. On looking down to see whith er his shoe was gone, and if it was recoverable, he beheld a sight, which, but for the hold he had of his companion's arm would have made him yet totter into the pit from sheer horror. Throvgh the opening made by bis foot, he siw an enormous boa-constrictor, with its body coiled up. and its head curved, watchinz the opening above, and evidently prepared to dirt on the falling prey. Hurrying from the spot, the two two sol liers informed some of their officers, who immediitely came to the trap with fire-arms. The creature was still there ami. in lee 1, ha I most probably remained in the place for a length of time, preying on the unfortunate aninnls; great and small, which tumbled into its den, Ball and swanshot,both used at once, brought tho, reptile's life to a close, and it was got out of the hole. It prov ed to be fifteen feet long, and about the gener general thickness of a man's thigh. The skin and sc lies were, most beautiful It was in tended to-make two c isvs of the skin for hold ing the regimental colors, and would have been large enough for the purpose; but it was intrusted to unskillful hands, aud got whither ed, and wasted in the preparation. The Hindoos, or at least the serpent-charmers among them, pretend, as is well known, to handle all sorts of snakes with impunity; to make them come and go at a cill, aud in short, to have a cahalistic authority over the whole race. Thesa pretensions are necees try to the ex.'rcise of their profession, which consists, in put, in ridding private houses of trouble some visitants -oi this description. One of these serpent-charmers will assert to a house- holderthat there are o.'i -ikes about his premi ses, and partly from motives of f jar, and part ly from curiosity, the householder promises, the man reward, if he succeeds in showing and removing them. The juggler goes to work, and soon snakes are seen lo issue from some corner or another, obedient to his call, The performer takes them up fearlessly, and they meet like friends. In fact, the opinion of the more enlightened residents in India is that the snakes and their charmers are old friends; that he hid them there, and of course kuew where to find them, and, moreover, that having long ago extracted the poisouous fangs, he maj- well hindle them without altrm. Europeans as well as natives, believe that these charmers have strange powers over the snake tribe. In Midns, however, while I was there, this be lief received a sad shock by a circumstance which occurred. One of tho most noted ser-pent-ch irmers about the district chanced one morning to get hold of a cobra of considera ble size, which he got conveyed to his home. He was occupied abroad all day, aud bad not time to get the dangerous fang extracted from the serpent's mouth ; this, at least, is the pro bable solution of the matter. In the evening, he returned to his dwelling, considerably ex cited with liquor, and began to exhibit tricks with his Bnakes to various persons who were around him at the timo. The newly caught cobra was brought out with the others, and the man, spirit vailant, commenced to handle the stranger like the rest. But the cobra darted at bis chin, and bit it, m iking two marks like pin points. The poor juggler was sobered in an instant. "I am a dead man !" he exclaim ed. The prospect of immediate death made the maintenance of his professional mysticism a thing of no moment. "Let the creature alone," said he to those about him, who would have killed the cobrt; "it may be of service to others of my trade. To me it can be of no more use. Nothing can s ive me." IIi3 pro fessional knowledge was but too accurate. In two hours he was a corpse! I s iw him a short time alter he died. Tlis friends and brother jugglers had gathered around him, and had him placed on a chair in a sitting position. Seeing the detriment like ly to result to their trade and interests from such a notion, they vehemently asserted that it was not the envenomed bite which had kill ed him. "No, no ; he ouly forgot one little word one small portion of the charm." In fact, they declared that he was not dead at all. but only in a sort of swoon from which, accord ing to the rules of the cibalistic art, he would recover in seven day9. Bnt the officers of the barracks, close to which the deceased had liv ed, interfered in the matter. They put a guard of one or two men on the house, declar ing that they would allow the body to remain unburied lor seven days, but would not permit any trickery. Of course the poor s.Tpent charmer never came to life again. His death, and the manner of it, gave a severe blow, as has been already hinted, to the art and prac tice of sn ake -charming in Madras. Snake charming is not confined to India. There are some of the natives of Alrica and America, who possess the powea of what is called charmiiig," or producing a, benumbing or stupefying effect on poisonous serpen.s and scorpions, by handling them. This power is in some natural and herelitary, while in oth ers it is ae juired by chewing the roots or oth er parts of certain plants, rubbing them in their hands, or bathing their bodies in water containing an infusion of them. In that part of Africa which lies northward of the great desert of Sahara, there was formerly a tribe C died thesylli, who seem to have possessed this power, either from nature or art, in a de gree that occ isioned the name of Psylli to be given to all persons cipable of producing sim ilar effects. Plutirch informs us thatCito, in his march through the desert, took with him a number of these Psylli, to suck out the poi sons from the wounds of such of his soldiers as might be bitten by the numerous serpents which infested that region. It was theti igno rantly believed that this power of subduing the poison was the effect of magic, and the Psylli, to confirm this belief, always, when in the ex.'rcise of this fascina'.ion,muttered spells or chanted verses over the person whom they were in the act of curing. Many have ven tured to doubt the existence of the power be ing possessed by any class of people, but the concurrent testimony of the best accredited trivellers seem to confirm the fact. Mr. Bruce distinctly states, from minnte personal obser vation, that all the blacks in the kingdom of Sennaar are perfectly armed by nature against the bite of either scorpion or viper. They tike the horned snake there the most cjinnion, and one of the most fatal of the vi per tribe in their hands at all times, put them in their bosoms, and throw them at each other, as children do apples and balls, during which sport the serpents are seldom irritated to bite, and if they do, no mischief ensues from the wound. The Arabs of the same country, he observes, have not by nature this protective power, but generally acquire it, by the use of certain plants. The artificial means of rendering the person invulnerable to the bite of snakes, seems also to be practised in South America. It is siid that the cobra is fond of milk, and that a knowledge of this fact has sometimes sived the lives of persons who were on the point of being bitten. An anecdote is re lated of a party of gentlemen sitting at a table in India, when one of them felt a cobra coil ing itstlf round his leg. Appalled at his situ ation, he desired his companions, in a whisper, not to speak or make any noise, if they would sive his life. All were immediately silent. lie next, in a low tone, requested a servant to bring a jug of milk, and pour it ciutiously on the floor near his foot. This being done, the cobra in a short time uncoiled itself, and de scend ed to partake of the milk, when, as may be supposed, little ceremony was used in des patching it. An exemption from reptiles of this deadly cl iss is surely one of England's greatest blessings. , Cy Show us a lady's bonnet, and we w ill tell yovj what sort of an , institution she is. If it is showered over with ribbons, cupids, bows, &c, she is as full of love aud poetry, as a country inn full of politicians and loafers. If it goes in for simple wrinkle, plain colors, and a couple of modest knots, she is a perfect jewel, sweet, sunny, mild, but as affectionate as a fn-shly nursed kitten. If it is stuck all over with a paradise of clover, three story ostrich feathers, wax holly-hocks and juniper berries, put it square down that the calico is a single establisment, and will never see her fortieth birth day. Bonnets are a true index of women. !Th Lf feime of ""an. When the world was created, and all crea tures assembled to have their lifetime appoint ed, the ass first advanced, and asked how long he would have to live 1 "Thirty years," re plied Nature: "will that be agreeable to thee?" "Alas ! (answered the ass,) it is a long while ! Remember what a wearisome existence will be mine ; from morning until night I shall have to bear heavy burdens, dragging orp sicks to the mill, that others may eat bread." while I shall have no encouragement, nor be refresh ed by anything but blows and kicks. Give me but a portion of that time I pray." Nature was moved with compassion, and presented 18 years. The ass went away and the dog came for ward. "IIow long dost thou require to live. Thirty years were too many for the ass,butwilt thou be contented with them?" "Is it thy will that I should ?" replied the dog. "Think how much I will have to run about ; my feet will not last for so long a time, and when I shall have lost my voice for barking, and my teeth for biting, what else shall I be fit for but to lie in the corner and growl?" Nature tbo't he was right and gaV3 him but twelve years. The ape then appeared. "Thou wilt doubtless live the thir y years, (said Nature,) thou wilt not have to labor as the ass ai I the dog. Life will be pleasant to thee." ' Ah! no, (ciied he) so it m ty seem to others, but w!ll not be. Should puddings ever rain down, I $' all have no spoon. I shall phy m ,rry trie'es. an 1 ex cite liughter by my grimaces and then be re warded with a sour apple. IIow often sorrow lies concealed behind n jest ! I shall not be able to endare for thi.ty vers." Nature was gracious and gave him but ten. At last came man, healthy and strong, and asked the mea sure of hisdiys. "Will thirty years content thee ?" "How short a time .' (exclaimed man) When I shall have built my house,and kindled a fire on my hearth; when the trees I shall have planted are about to bloom and bear fruit when life to me shall seem most desirable, I shall die ! Oh! Nature, grant me a longer pe riod!" "Thou s'.ialt h ive the eighteen years of the ass beside." "That is not euough, re plied man. "Take likewise the twelve years of the dog." "It is not yet sufficient," reit- teratel man; "give me more!" -""I give thee ten years of the ape, in vain w 11 you claim more! M a departed unsatisfied. Thus man lives seventy years. The first thirty are his human years, and pass swiftly by. He is then he althy and happy he labors cheerfully aud r-'ices inhis existence. The eighteen years of the ass come next, and burden upon burden is heap-id upon him: he cirri -s th corn that is to feed others: blows and kicks are the wa ges of his faithful service. The twelve years of the dog follow, and he los?s his teeth and lies in the corner and growls. When these are gone, tki ape's ten ysars form th? conclu sion. The man, weak and silly, becomes the sport of children. "1 Did J. : e e. E"d " This tame, yi.diing spirit this doing "as the rest did" his ruined thousinds. A young m m is invited by vicious compan ions to visit the theatre, or the gambling room, or other haunts of licentiousness. He be comes dissipated, spends Lis time, loses his credit, squanders his property, and at last sinks into an untimely grive. What ruined him ? Simply "doing what the rest did." A father has a family of sons. lie is wealthy. Other chil Iren in the sime situation of life do so and so, are indulged in this thing and that. He indulges his own in the sime way. They grow up idlers, triflers, aud fops. The father wonders why his children do not suc ceed better. He has spent so much money on their educ ition, has given them great advan tages ; but alas! they are only a source of vex ation and trouble. Poor man, he isi.ist pay ing the penalty of "doing as the rest did." This poor mother strives hard to bring up her d mghters genteelly. They learn what others do, to paint,to sing. to play, to dance, and sev eral other useless matters. In time they mar ry ; their husbands are un ible to support their extravagince, and they are s on reduced to poverty and wretchedness. The good woman is astonished. "Truly," says she, "I did as the rest did." The sinner, following the example of others, puts off repentance, and neglects to prepare for death. He passes along through life, till, un i wares, death strikes the fatal blow. He has no time left now to prepare. Aud he goes down to distraction, beciuse he was so fool ish as to ' lo as the r st did. ' The Dutchman and uis lloa. Der teuful in de peste, and no goot tis even von cou trarier 1 animal as my wife Deporah Timp my vife j'on time she - tump too, tump her twice time she tump against .ti mp. her tree limes and she walk m ire q'uief k she was fast asleep. But de tetifel! nothitrgic'tu satisfy to pig fen I tump von viy, he runs head aw ty after bis tail, ten ven I tunips him td oter way he runs tail vay after his his head, and mine Got ! af ter follerin eaeh otertish hUf hour here ve ish as nearer to place ve cum from ven ve set out.' C7"A droll fellow, who had a wooden leg, being in company with a man who was some what credulous, the latter asked the former hnw Iia rumft in Ytxvn a wnndn law iTTlm ! said he, 'my father had one and so had my grand-father before him ; it runs in the blood. ; Att-terdwin. Itisnoteosy to give the raadcr an idea cf this remarkable city croisel anl r.'Crjsaelby canals in all directions a city half water and half land in which the cvnals are the streets and highways, leading towards the open sea, which seems to hold the city in its arms. It it only by means of expensive and most substan ti l dykes an 1 sluices, el iborately constructed and cirefully repaired, an.1 guarded, that the sea is kept ba2'i, aa I bat for these, this city, containing upward- of two hundred thousand inhabitants, would inevitably' be 'submerged and destroyed. Four great canals run across the city in parallel curved lines, and, crossing these, are a series cf other canals, converging in the harbor like the lines of a fan. Large ba sins occur here and there at intervals. Tho buildings In the best part of the city are mag nificent many of them of great age, bearing rich and grotesqte ornamental work on their fronts. You would scarcely believe thai the soil under these m ijestic buildings was only loose sand and soft mud ! Yet it is so : ci d it is only by means of piles of wood driven far down through the sand into the so lid stratum. beneath, that a foundation has been gained. Hence Erasmus said of Am sterdam, that the iuhabitants like crows, liv ed on the tops of trees. Any one who merely pays a passing visit to Amsterdam, as I did, c mnot fail to be thrown into a state cf perplex ity and amaze, by the apparent inextricable complicity of the city ; its inntmerable bridg es; its endless succession of canals, and its interminable brick streets. The canals and bridges so much resemble each other, that the stranger without a guide feels as if he were wandering in alibyrinth; he loses all recol lection of the points of the compass ; and, as I did, be will soon probably lose his way. Tho most interesting public building in Amster d tm is now use.l as a royal palace. The great feature of its interior is its grand hali, lined with white Italian marble, said to be the finest hall cf the kind in the world. The small est apaartments in the palace contain scmo fine modern Dutch paintings, to which the public are freely admitted. One painting, rep resenting the hero, Van Speyk,-applying the match to blow up his vessel, at Antwerp, ra ther than allow it to be taken by the Belgians, is one that lives long in the memory of Lim who has seen it. To those who have liesure, the Museum, or National Picture Gullery, is well worthy of a visit. But pictures can be seen at home and are no novelty. The real in terest of Amsterdam is in its streeis, quays its bustle and commerce, its bridges and canals, and Die many b!ri".;ir.g and peculiir features of this city of tho sia features which are no where to be found han.cteristic of any city in Europe, north of Venice. T.v : ee t .t so e iii" 'Mary,' said George, 'next summer I will not have a girden. Our pretty tree is dying and I wont have another tree as long as I live. I will h ive a bird next summer and it will stay all winter.' 'George, don't you remember my beautiful canary bird,, and it died in the middle of si m mer, and we planted bright flowers in the gar den where we buried it ? My bird did net livo so long us the tvee.' 'Well I dont see as we Cin love anything. Little brother died before the bird and I loved him better than any bird, tree, or flower. Oh! I wish we could Lave something to love that would not die.' Geor. e let us go, into the house. I don't want to look at our tree any longer.' The day passed, During the school hours, George and Mary had almost forgotten that their tree was dying, but at evening as they drew their chairs to the table where their mother was sitting, and began to arrange the seeds that had been from day to day gathering the remembrance of their tree came upon them. Mother ' sai. I Mary, you may give those seeds to cousin John; I never want another garden- Yes,' added George, 'you give thtra all away. If I could find some seeds of a tree that wouli never fade, I should love to havo a garden. I wonder if there ever was such a garden, mother? Yes, George, I have read of a garden where the trees never die.' A real garden, mother? Yes. my son. In the middle of the garden I have been told, ther j runs a pure river of water, clear as crystal, and on each de is the Tret of Life a tree that never fades. The gard ?n is Heaven. There you may live and love forever. There will be no death no fa ding there. Love the Saviour here, and nc will prepare you to dwell in those green pas tures, and besiie those still waters.' 1X7" Mrs. Harris says that foreigners resem ble one another so much that she can't; more than half tho time tell an ourang-outang from a Frenchman.; The old lady is gettiug not only impatient but personal. C7"If marriages bo made in Heaven some peopla have few friend there, , . ' E7"When is an ox not an oxl : When he is turned into a meadow. - - ' BFahionibIe modes of death -duelling and tight lacing. I n n