Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 25, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 July 1893 — FOR YOUNG FOLKS. [ARTICLE]

FOR YOUNG FOLKS.

TKACH THE CHILD A SONO. Encourage your little ones to sing. Music lessens care and heartache. Often the words of a song, the sweet melody, linger in the heart after the voice is silent, and keep alive the courage which has almost diea; anxiety and heart pain cause heart disease, and after that ouickly comes death. Song sweetens toil, and it is imperative that parents and teachers should aim to increase this means of happiness for the children, if for no other reason than to strengthen their minds and hearts for the labors to be borne in mature years. THE GRACE WAS TOO LONG. There is a little chap up on Price Hill who will make trouble in religious circles some of these days if ho is not systematically trained in “the way he should go.” He was over at his grandfather’s for dinner yesterday, and eat buckled in the old high chair ready for the onslaught. His grandfather, a reverent old gentleman, and one of the worthiest of the world, bent his snowy head and began his usual lengthy grace. Sammy never relishes those famous graces at best, and when, just in the middle of this extra long one for company, the old gentleman paused deliberately and yawned several tedious times, the infant could stand it no longer. Leaning over, he tapped him on the arm with his big spoon and whispered energetically: “Det a move, dranpa—det a move for dracious sake—l’s hungy as a bear I” Grandpa “got a move.”—[Cincinnati Commercial Gazette.

THE SPIDER'S ENEMY. A writer gives an interesting account of the curious habits of the ichneumonfly of Ceylon, the natural enemy of the spider. This insect is green in color, and in form resembles a wasp, with a marvellously thin waist. It makes its nest of well-worked clay, and then goes out on a hunting expedition. Its victims are invariably spiders of various kinds, but all are subject to the same mode of treatment. A scientific sting injects some poison which effectually paralyzes the luckless spider, who is then carried off to the nest and there fastened with a dab of moist clay. Another and another victim is brought to this chamber of horrors. Then the prescient mother ichneumon-fly proceeds to deposit her eggs, one in the body of each spider, which can just move its legs in a vague, aimless manner, but can afford no resistance. This done, the fly returns to her work as a mason. She prepares more clay and bulldrup the entrance to this ghastly cell. Then she commences a new cell, which she furnishes in like manner, and closes; then she adds yet another cell, and so proceeds till her store of eggs are -all provided for, and, her task in life being accomplished, she dies, leaving her evu brood to hatch at leisure. In due time these horrid little maggots come to life and find themselves cradled in a larder of fresh meat. Each poor spider is still alive, and his juices afford nutriment for the ichneumon-grub, till it is ready to pass into its chrysalis stage, thence to emerge as a winged fly, fully prepared to carry out the traditions of its ancestors withTegard to spiders, and to fulfil the purpose for which they have been created, according to ichneumon belief. —[Leisure Hour.

BPKAHING A SALMON. All being ready, the old man steps aboard with the spear, and takes his place in the bow. The torch in front is lighted, and with a crackle like the frying of grease the flame leaps upward, and with its yellow glare lights up the bushes, the nearer tree-trunks, anti the surface of the water. Quickly stepping in also, the stern-man, with a long [>ol« in lieu of paddle, gives a push or two, and the canoe glides out on the surface of the pool. But it is too quickly done, for the pool, shallow there, is lighted to the very bottom as with the light of day, and several huge black objects move away into the deep and somber places. With a splash the spear is quickly thrust down into the water after a departing shadow, but it is too late. Then the canoe is cautiously driven toward the deeper place at the head of the pool, and os it nears the other end, one, two, six, ten, twenty great shadowy forms dart, one after the other, toward the foot of the pool, post them. Down goes the spear, not with a splash, but with a steady thrust. It strikes the bottom, but the fish is already several feet away, and it is drawn back empty. Several tinws this happens. Has the old man lost his former skill? Soon he suspects that the new pole, like a bright streak moving toward them, frightens them. A new supply of bark is needed, so they return to the camp. The spear is held over the fire until it is blackened from end to end and is no longer conspicuous. So confident is the old hunter of getting a fish, that he makes ready to eat him at once. He pokes up the fire, throws on some fresh wood, and sets a kettle of water to boil. He peels some potatoes, which he has brought along (perhaps for the very purpose), and puts them into the water. Meanwhile the salmon have recovered, doubtless, from their first scare. So, with a fresh supply of torches, they start again,—this time with more deliberation, for the long black pirogue has not entered the length of itself upon the pool, before down goes the sj>ear. Hand over hand it is pushed, and, it seems, will never stop. It reaches the sandy bottom and sticks there. It sways as if something is tugging at the end of it. Then, as he would lift a load of hay on a pitch fork, the old man gradually raises the end of the spear. Out comes a black nose, then there is a flapping and splashing of fins and powerful tai), and the first salmon is caught. Quickly the old man draws the fish to the side of the canoe, lifts it on board, caught and held firmly by the stout jaws. It is released, and lies upon the bottom of the canoe—only a four-pounder. Only a fourpounder, the smallest one of the whole crowd, when plenty of them looked as big as stove-pipes! And there was one, much bigger than any of the rest, which looked fully four feet long. Sometimes, when those big fellows do get caught, the spearman lets go entirely, and when

the fish is exhausted with the violence of its efforts, it may be easily drawn in. It would be hard to say which is more excited over the capture—the stranger, who never saw such a thing done before, or the old man, to whom all the enthusiasm of his younger days seems to have returned.—[Bt. Nicholas.