Rensselaer Republican, Volume 14, Number 43, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 July 1882 — FOR THE CHILDREN. [ARTICLE]

FOR THE CHILDREN.

Stories containing hidden words have been requested by the young folks from time to time, and this week two good specimens are presented. The difficulty in regard to such stories is to make them interesting aside from their peculiar features. Indeed, few have succeeded in that respect. The two now given relate to “buried beasts.” The first, which contains thirty-eight of the animals, is as follows: When the brig Numa reached Puteoli on a German embassy, a kindly monk, eye-glass in hand, came leaping on board. “O, gentlemen I verily think it tends 'to a tempest; steer at once for Ostia; perchance we may there land!” “Aye, aye!” responded Captain Jacobs. Able hands, loth, yet obedient, turhed the ship, and at that moment a pirate vessel bearing down, shot terror through all who knew what horrible murders these determined, lawless, wine-in-flamed assassins perpetrate. Cato, no coward’ shrewdly hurled torpedoes into the privateer, at which rebuff a loud cheer arose from the Numa, stiff and strong. In the second may be found thirtynine “buried beasts:” In ancient history a king, mullifying oaths, as men tell us, in Jiaste erewhile essayed to rebuff a local pacation. He, if erroneously, did through remose, fear, mad, illogical resistance, and become lunatic, spite of civil unanimity in a peaceful realm. “Arm others and be armed yourselves! Look, idiots! ” said he, in warning craze, brandishing his soword, “mayhap ignominy awaits upon you. A whole battalion was sent to catch or seek you. Do everything to cut up them! be rampant heroes! save the land. So, with a real ever-eternal embrace, bustled they, and now ease looks probable. Farewell. Bits of Punning Rhyme.—Two humorous bits of verse in which puns may be found, are appended. The first is an ode to the sun: Oh, Sol, you are my sole delight, your rays my spirits raise, Although if you are very bright, you often daze my days: The world is whirled around Zyou, and, of course, your course you trace— Old as you are—from age to age, through aether’s boundless space. A planet plain it is nought. So Ito you give greeting, No orb or beaming star in sky is kind as you to heating; And few could view your jocund face without ajoke and pun— You are a father unto us, nay, father, you’re a sun! The second is a story of the little fish and the toad: A little fish could not abatelhis longing for a bait; When caught, he rued that to his friends he had been rude of late; They told him that the human race was much to fly a lot To let him fly, and run away, when once the fly he’d got. To them he’d paid no heed, but said, “You are a lot of fools, And, by my roe, should all be stood npon a row of stools.” Miss Toad, who saw him safely stowed, within the fisher’s bag, Said, “Little friend, you’re wellj bestowed, don’t letyonr spirits flag ”

The Faithful Elephant.—There is a beautiful story told of an old elephant who was engaged in battle on the plains of India. He was a standard nearer, and carried on his huge back the royal ensign, the rallying point of the Poonah host. At the beginning of ihe fignt he lost his master. The mahout, or driver had just given him the word to halt, when he received a fatal wound, and fell to the ground where he lay with a heap of The obedient elephant stood still, while the battle closed round him and the standard he carried. He never stirred a foot, refusing either to advance or retire, as the conflict became hotter and fiercer,until the Mahrattas, seeing the standard flying steadily in its place,refused to believe they were being beaten, and rallied again and again around the colors. And all this while, amid the din of battle the patient animal stood straining its ears to catch the sound of that voice it would never hear again. At last the tide of conquest left the field deserted. The Mahrattas swept on in pursuit of the flying foe, but the elephant, like a rock, stood there wit h the dead and dying around, and the ensign waving in its place. For three days and r ights it remained where its master had given the command to halt. Neither bribes nor threats could move it. Then they sent to a village, one hundred miles away, and brought the mahout’s little son. The noble animal seemed then to remember how its driver had sometimes given his authority to his little child, and immediately with all his shattered trappings clanging as be went, paced slowly and quietly away. What a lesson of fidelity is taught us by the faithfulness of this dumb creature to his master.