Rensselaer Union, Volume 9, Number 42, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 July 1877 — Page 3

The Rensselaer Union. RENSSELAER, . * INDIANA.

AFTER TEE COUNCIL. Mr. David Obat. editor of the Buffalo C our Ur, he* an ar Icle on " The La-t Indian Connell on the Genesee.” «n .Scribner for July, closing with the following poem: The Are ainka low, the drifting amok* Die* Holtly In the autumn h ire. And alleut are the tongues that apoke The speech of other days. Cone, too, the duaky ghoaia whoae feet Hut now yon listening thicket atlrred; Cnacarod within its covert meet The squirrel and the bird. The story of the past Is told, t>ut thou, O Valley, aweetand lone! Glen of the Rainbow! thou sh-.lt bold its romance as thine own. Thoughts of thine aucient forest prime Shall sometimes haunt tby summer dreams, And shape to low poetic rhyme The music of thy streams. When Indian Summer flings her cloak Of brooding azure on the woods, The pathos of a vanished folk Shall tinge thy solitudes. The blue smoke of >heir fires once more Kir o'er the hills shall seem to rise, And sunset s golden clouds restore The red man's paradise. Strange sounds of a forgotten tongue Shall cling to mauy a crag and cave, In waslr of railing water sung, Or murmur of the wave And ol t in midmost hush of night. Shrill o’er the deep-mouthea cataract’s- roar, Shall ring the war-crv from the height That woke the wilds of yore. Sweet Vale, more peaceful bend thy akies, Thy airs are fraught with rarer balm: A people's busy tumult lies ' . Hushed in thy sylvan calm. O sweet thy peace! while fancy frames Solt idyls of thy dwellers fled— They loved thee, culled thee gentle names, In the long summers dead. Quenched is the fire: the drifting smoke lias vanished in the autumn haze; Gone, too, O Vale, the simple folk Who loved thee in old days. But. lor their-stties—their lives serene— Their xoies, perchance, as sweet as ours O be thv woods for aye more green, And fairer bloom thy flowers!

THE FATHERS’ AND THE CHILDREN’S WILLS.

A Tale or Breaking and mending. In the days when all the world was romantic, ano no one was ashamed of it, two gentlemen of England conceived the preposterous, but fashionable, idea that, because they were friends, their son and daughter, then infants in their cradles, must love each other when they grew to be man and woman. Consequently, each made a will, and matters were so arranged that, if either of the young people declined the hand of the other, that young person would be penniless, and his or her estate go to the other young person who was willing. After some years, the gentleman whose child was a daughter left his native England for America, while the other remained in England; so that the ocean rolled between the romantic friends. The English resident was named Edmund Harrington. The American, Charles Seabright. Both were wealthy, and both brought their children up carefully. As they grew older, they permitted them to cones pond with each other, but each detested the task so that the letters were actually written by the elders themselves. Once, at the age of fourteen, when news came that little Harold Harrington had fallen from a tree and broken his leg, Elsie Seabright was desired to reply that she felt great regret, and send her best love and wishes for his speedy recovery; but the girl, who could never listen to the boy's name with anything like patience, refused to write one word of this amiable epistle. “ I wish he had broken his neck, so that I might never hear any more about him,” she said, with a stamp of her slippered foot; “and I won’t write fibs.” So again mamma wrote the letter, having first locked Elsie up in a dark pantry by way of punishment. “And 1 am sorry to find a child of mine so unfeeling,” she said. “ A broken leg causes great pain, and may make one lame for life.” “A nice thing for me that would be if I am to marry him,” said Elsie. Indeed, if she had been as sympathetic as her mother desired her to be, Elsie would have had opportunity enough to exercise these feelings, for her young betrothed was always in some pickle, and had newly drowned and nearly shot himself a dozen times, to say nothing of ordinary tumbles. It was tit for tat, at all events, for, when Elsie had the measles, Master Harold received the information with a contemptuous indifference amounting to heartlessness, and had indeed said that he did not care. He hated girls, and thisone the worst of them all. So, with the ocean between them, the young people grew to maturity, and the year approached in which they were to mdejt. But meanwhile all sorts of sad things happened. Elsie lost both her father and mother, and away in England Mr. Harrington died suddenly of apolexy. So the two men, who had looked forward for so many years to meeting when their children were married, never met again. But for those obstinate wills the whole matter would have been dropped, for the last thing the young people desired was to meet each other. But the young man was of age, and the young lady also* and the property must be settled, and could not be until the match was either on or off. The old lawyers in whose hands the affair rested knew the feelings of their wards, but they judged that a meeting might mend matters. At least, it was necessary that they should meet. So Harold, as in duty bound, was to cross the ocean to meet his betrothed, and give her an opportunity to refuse him. The news of bis arrival brought into full activity those feelings #f repugnance that Elsie bad conceived for Harold in her childhood. Yet there was enough of worldly wisdom in her head to teach her how much better it was to be rich than to be poor. If he refused her, her fortune and his also would be her own by law. She would force him to refuse her, and then she would return him his, and all would be as it should. But how could she do this? The girl sat for awhile in deep reverie, and then arose and clapped her hands together. A thought had struck her. There was in the house a seamstress—a vulgar girl, as plain as it was possible to be, and with as much conceit as any young beau* ty was ever blessed with. Her rough manners and ways of speech had become proverbial amongst her own class, the other servants speaking of her generally as Crusty Betsy. Ana this girl had of late been occupied in the room of her young mistress over some new dresses, Straight to this apartment Elsie Hew, and locking the door, sat down opposite Betsy and, said:

“ I have something for you to do, and I’ll pay you well for*lt.” “ Just name it then,” said Betsy. When I was a little girl, Betsy,” said Elsie, “ poor papa promised that I should marry a young gentleman who lives in England, when I was grown, and that if I did not 1 should lose my fortune. Nqw the time has come and he is coming, and I can’t marry him, Betsy, and I want him to refuse me. Do you understand V” “ I understand,” said Betsy, “ and if I were you, I’d huff him off quick enough, and make him glad to go, that I would.” “ And I can’t think now to do it, Betsv,” said Elsie; ** and if you can ycumust cTo it for me. While he stays you must pretend that you are Miss Seabright; you must wear my clothes, and take all the airs you possibly can, and make him as unhappy as possible, so that he’ll have to refuse you—that is, me, you know. Be. sharp as you can with him, Betsy—never the least bit kind or nice. You’ll try, won’t you, Betsy?” “ I can give anyone as good as they send, Miss,” said Betsy. “I’m no mealy - mouth, and you’ll pay me well, miss?” “ 111 give you a hundred dollars, Betsy,” said the girl, “for you’ll save me freedom and my fortune; and you’ll.not refuse him, you know, else all would lie spoilt.” “ I'll manage,” said Betsy. Then the two girls left all other work to examine Elsie’s wardrobe, and soon Bet sy was dressed in the most elegant attire, her hair powdered, as was the custom, and white gloves upon her hands. , “ And I,” said Elsie, ” will be your Soor companion, and you must call me [iss Smith and snub me and order me about.” Thus all was arranged when the little letter Elsie had been so long expecting arrived, and, breaking its blue seal, she read that Mr. Harrington would pay his respects to Miss Seabright in an hour. How Miss Seabright laughed as she sat waiting in the drawing-room watching Betsy sail up and down with all her new assumption of dignity. Betsy,(with the most amiable intentions, would have been sure of offending; but Betsy, bent on being unpleasant, would be a grand success. Just then Betsy herself leant from the window. “ Oh, miss!” she cried, “ there’s a carriage at the door, and there’s a gentleman coming out of it. Bless us! if that’s him, I don’t wonder you want to be off your match. Deary me! oh, deary me!” But before she could explain, a servant had brought Elsie a card bearing the name of Harold Harrington, and, as she arose, the most extraordinary figure entered the room. It was a very tall young man, between whose shoulders, nevertheless, grew an enormous hump. He also, though he seemed to move actively enough, walked upon crutches. On his head, irom which he had removed his cap, was a black silk skull-cap, such as entirely bald old gentlemen then wore. Over his ears was a big black bandage, which also quite covered his chin. On his right eye yas a large green patch; on his left cheek another. All that was visible of his face was his nose, which was certainly well-shaped, but which was much the color of red flannel; and about his throat was indeed a flannel muffler. This was Harold Harrington. Elsie’s surprise was so great that she sank into a chair, and forgot to prompt Betsy as she had intended. But Betsy needed no prompting. She was not in the least embarrassed. She advanced to meet Mr. Harrington with a grin of supreme insolence on her face, and burst into a loud laugh. “Well,” she said, “so you are my young man, are you? 1 must say whoever picked you out showed no mighty great*taste; ’twasn’t for your beauty, that’s plain.”

“ No, madam,” said the new arrival, “It was not for my beauty. Do I address Miss Seabright?” “Why, who else should I be?” cried Betsy. “ 'Twas not for your cleverness, neither, you were chosen. But, now you have come, sit down. Been in the wars, haven’t you?” “My infirmities,” sighed the young man, “are the result of'my recklessness as a boy, I have a most * sympathizing letter from you upon the fall which broke my limbs. You remember it! You also condoled with me upon the careless shot which cost me my eye, though you did not know how serious was the result. It was while I was on a trip to Switzerland that I broke my back, and while endeavoring to drink some boiling tea the housekeeper left carelessly upon the table, I scalded all the hair from my head. This scar upon my cheek is the result of having attempted to shave myself with my father’s razor.' It was injudicious of him not to tell you the result of my injuries; but now you see them fer yourself. I will not go into further particulars. You remember all my accidents?” “Yes,” said Betsy, “ and a fine figger of a man they’ve made you. You’d do to scare the crows from an orchard, I must say, and you’re sent to me, that I might have my pick and choice of offers to marry! It’s enough to make one die of laughing!” ” Then you refuse me ?” said the young man, very eagerly. “ Oh, no,” said Betsy, “ oh, no, I don’t; there’s the fortune," you know. Money is money, and even an object like you is bet ter than poverty. I’ll have you. Though how folks will laugh to see us paired off together! One comfort, though; so broken down as you must be, you can’t last long.” “'On the contrary, I expect to live to be eighty,” said the young man. “ Expectations don’t go for much,’’said Betsy. “ Look how the old folks went.” “ We were deprived of their affections very suddenly,” said the young man, sighing. “My father loved yours dearly, Miss Beabright.” “ Folks will take queer notions,” said Betsy. “ Well, I must say you are an object. I can’t help laughing, whenever I look at you.” “We shall have a very merry life together," said Harold, “if your disposition continues.” “ Oh, I shan’t see much of you,” said Betsy, “ I can promise you, after the ring is on. What possessed you to smash yourself up so ? But I shan’t refuse you. ‘ It’s money makes the mare go,’ says the old song.” “It may be,” said Harold. “But let the mare stand still for me, then. I quite decline to fulfill the engagement. So, madam, you have the fortune without any incumbrance in my person.” “ And good riddance to bad rubbish, say 11” cried Betsy. “There are better fish in the sea than you, or women would be poorly off. You’re going, eh ? Well, the sooner the better. Miss Smith, ring the bell.” Elsie rose and touched the bell. But now that the deed was done, and her object attained, she felt dreadfully ashamed of herselt. Certainly a more unhappy and singular Object than this before her could not Well be imagined. Indeed, compassionate as was her heart, she felt that his appearance was not only pain-

tul, but almost ludicrous, but all the more should he have been tenderly and kindly used. Why had she played this childish prank, and allowed a vulgar woman to insult him in her presence? And this gentleman—for hideous as he was, he evidently was a gentleman by breedlrg as well as by birth—bow would he henceforth think of her? He would always believe that she had uttered those rude words, she. and none other. And aB he left the room she followed him and the servant who bad answered the bell retired at her nod, and left the two together in the long hall, where they could hear the long and violent explosions of laughter with which 3etsy was now filling the drawing room. “ Mr. Harrington,” said Elsie, her face crimsoning as she spoke, “ I cannot let you go without a word of explanation. I —I have been so grieved that you should be so insulted. I never meant ” “ My dear young lady, you have nothing to do with it, and my feelings are not in the least hurt,” replied the young man. *' Who could care anything for what a person like the woman we have just left could Say? But 1 am amazed that should be* Miss Seabright. I know she is a lady by birth. I understood that she was beautiful and gentle. I ” “ Oh, Mr. Harriugton,” cried Elsie, “ I have been such a foolish girl! Sue is not Miss Seabright. lam Miss Seabright. 1 —l—it was a ridiculous stratagem of mine. I hated the idea of a betrothal to a stranger, and I desired that you should take the initiative in breaking off the match. But. believe me, I had no knowledge of your infirmities, which could be only a subject for sympathy to me; and I beg you to forgive me for placing that coarse woman in a position in which she could insult you. Prove it by remaining with me until I can offei you some refreshment after vour long journey.” The young man bowed, looked at her a moment, and then replied frankly: “Madam, I quite appreciate your motives and entirely forgive you. I am pleaded to accept your invitation.” It was the custom in well-arranged houses at that day to send guests to their rooms for awhile before dinner. Accordingly Miss Seabright ordered a servant to show Mr. Harrington to an apartment on the upper floor, and retired to her own room to dress for dinner. Ten minutes after her entrance into this this servant brought her a large bundle and a small note—a bundle several feet long, and a note a few Inch*-; square. She opened the note first and read these words: ■My Dear Miss Seabright: I also have a confession to make. I also, before I met you, had resolved that you should be the one to decline the conditions of our fathers’ wills, intending afterward to give you hack your share of the property. Consequently I Bet about devising a scheme; and, reading my school-day letters, it occurred to me that no one ever went through so many small accidents quite unscathed and unmarred before. I knew that few women would choose to marry a very hideous man, consequently I concocted a disguise which I fancied would make me repugnant to the least particular of the fair sex. Allow me to lay at your feet my crutches, which I never needed, thank Heaven; my hump, which was a feather pillow; the skull-cap, which did not hide my bald pate, and all my bandages and patches. The vermilion which adorned my nose I have removed with a little water; and though I obtained my invitation to dinner under fake pretenses, lbeg to be allowed to pay my respects to you in proper person, and to apologize for my trick, which, after all, dear madam, was only tit for tat. Harold Harrington. At first Elsie was unreasonably angry, but her anger did not last long. They met at dinner, and before they parted it was quite concluded that they should carry out the wishes of their parents by agreeing to dine together always —Philadelphia Saturday Evening Post.

Old Greek Athletics.

Thebe is no doubt that among the Greeks the pursuit of high muscular condition was early associated with that of health, and that hvgiene and physical training were soon discovered to be closely allied. Thus Herodicus, a trainer, who was also an invalid, was said to nave discovered from his own case the method of treating disease by careful diet and regimen, and to have tous contributed to the advancement of Greek medicine. Pausanias also mentions (vi. 3,9) the case of a certain Hysmon, an Elean, who, when a boy, had rheumatism in his muscles, and on this account practiced for the pentathlon that he might become a healthy and sound man. His training made him not only sound, but a celebrated victor. It would be very interesting to know in detail what rules the Greeks prescribed for this purpose. Pausanias tells us (vi. 7,9) that a certain Dromeus, who won tea victories in long races at various games (about 01. 74) was the first who thought of eating meat in his training, for that up to that time the diet of athletes had been cheese from wicker baskets. It must be remembered that meat diet was not common among the Greeks, who, like most Southern people, lived rather upon fish, fruit and vegetables, so that the meat dinners of Bceotia were censured as heavy and rather disgusting. However, the discovery of Dromeus was adopted by Greek athletes ever after, and we hear of their compulsory meals of large quantities of meat, and their consequent sleepiness and sluggishness in ordinary life, in such a way as to make us believe that the Greeks had missed the real secret of training, and actually thought that the more strong nutriment a man could absorb the stronger he would become. The quantity eaten by athletes is universally spoken*of as far exceeding the quantity eaten by ordinary men, not considering its heavier quality. Our suspl cion that, in consequence,,Greek athletic performances were not greater, if even equal, to our own, is, however, hard to verify, as we are without any information as to the time in wljich their running feats were performed. They had no watches, or nice measures of short divisions of time, and always ran races only to see who would win, not to see in how short a time a given distance could be done. Nevertheless, as the course was over soft sand, and as the vases picture them rushing along in spread-eagle fashion, with their arms like the sails of a windmill—in order to aid the motion of their bodies, as the Germans explain (after Philostratoe)—nay, as we even hear of their having started shouting, if we can believe such a thing, their tune performances in running must have been decidedly poor. In toe Olympic games, the running, which had originally been toe only competition, always came first. The short race was once up the course, and seems to have been about 125 yards. About the year 720 B. C. races of double the course, and long races of about 3,000 yards, were added; races in armor were a later addition, and came at the end of the sports. It is remarkable that among all these Varieties hurdle-races were unknown, though jumping was assigned a specialjilace, and thought very important. We have several remarkable anecdotes of endurance in runniag long journeys cited throughout Greek his-

tory, and even now the modern inhabitant* are remarkable for this quality. I have seen a young man koep np with a hone ridden at a good pace across a rough country for many miles, and have been told that the Greek postmen are quite wonderful in their speed and endurance. But this is compatible with very poor performances at prize meetings. There were short races for boys at Olympia of half the length. Eighteen years was beyond the limit of age for competing, aa a story in Pausanias implies, and a hoy who won at the age of twelve was thought wonderfully young. The same authority tells ur of a man who won the short race at lour successive meetings, thus keeping up his pace for sixteerf years—a remarkable case. There seems to have been no second prize in any of the historical games, a natural consequence of the abolition of material rewards. There was, of course, a good deal of chance in the course of the contest, and Pausanias evidently knew cases where the winner was not the best man. For example, the races were run in heats of four, and if there was an odd man over, the owner of the last lot drawn could sit down till the winners of the heats came together, and run against them without any previous fatigue. The limitation of each heat of tour competitors arose, I fancy, from their not wearing colors (or even clothes) arid so not being easily distinguishable. They were accordingly walked into the arena through an underground passage in the raised side of the stadium, and the name and country of each proclaimed in order by a herald. This practice is accurately copied in the present Olympic games held at Athens every four years.—Macmillan's Magazine.

Discomfited Smugglers.

The Custom House Steamship Inspectors have distinguished themselves by several seizures of smuggled goods. Last Wednesday evening the steamship Herder, of the Hamburg Line, arrived at her pier in Jersey City, and the steerage passengers were not permitted to leave the vessel until 3’esterday morning. As soon as the Custom-House officers arrived the emigrants were put on the wharf and an examination of their baggage was begun. Inspector Joseph L. Chapman, who is said to have made more seizures of contraband articles of late than any three officers in the service in this city, set his eyes on a fine large chest, neatly painted, owned by a sharp-looking young German named Wilhelm WeDdland. Mr, Chapman pushed through the soiled linen atop and his hand touched some hard substance. Chapman asked the owner of the chest aquestioD, and the emigrant, or, as he afterward turned out to be, smuggler, said that he spoke no English. Out on the dock went the miscellaneous assortment of luggage, and a false bottom, six inches above the real bottom of the chest, was discovered. In the space between the two bottoms was a quantity of valuable silks and laces tightly packed and in good condition. “ I will make you all right, boss, if you don’ go to makes me no trouble,” said the non-English-speak-ing German, but his chest went to the seizure-room and he disappeared. As Mr. Chapman passed among the passengers on the deck he noticed two singularly plump women. Their faces were sharp enough, but their waists and. skirts were suspiciously ample. They walked stiffly, too,, and upon the invitation of Mr. Chapman, walked into the cabin of the Castle Garden tender, where Mrs. Ferris was inspecting. At the request of the latter they unwillingly removed their dresses and petticoats, and the latter were taken in charge by the officers. Each petticoat weighed anywhere between thirty and fifty pounds. At the seizure room in the Custom-House they were ripped open, and enough articles to stare a ladies’ haberdashery shop were taken from between the finings. There were silk dresses, laces, edgings, lace, silk and Shetland shawls, and a thousand dainty knick-knacks, 80 per cent, cheaper abroad than here. The two women belonged in Memphis, Tenn., and they were allowed to part with only the loss of their petticoats. Another would-bc smuggler on the Herder was brought to grief. He wore a big German plush coat, heavy enough for a Greenland winter. Of course this attracted Mr. Chapman’s attention, and a quick clutch at the coat-tails was enough to show that it was lined with goods. The wearer was told to put on a summer coat, and his plush garment went to the seizure room, where an assortment of laces, silks, ribbons, neck-ties, etc., of a quality to match the petticoat stock, was taken from it. The wearer, whose name was not taken, was permitted to depart. A trunk containing 1,500 cigars was seized on the steamship Columbus, from Havana, which arrived yesterday. — N. T. World.

Keeping a Secret.

Rugoleb, an old cabinet-maker, of Boston, told me that he used to make Stuart’s panels for him. They were made of mahogeny, and as Stuart complained that be missed the rough surface of canvas that was favorable to toe sparkle of his color, Buggies invented the way of producing that sort of surface by cutting teeth in the plane-iron and dragging it backward, that proving the best way of indenting without tearing the wood. Raggles said that at the time he used to work for Stuart his shop was in Winter street, on the ground floor, and, one day, sitting at his shop door, he saw Stuart coming down the street, in earnest conversation with a gentleman. Stuart came into the shop, followed by his friend, and, said Ruggles, “I saw that ihe gentleman was urging him to tell him something that he was unwilling to trust him with.” Stuart said: “ Mr. Ruggles, have you got *, piece of chalk?” I gave him a piece; he then turned to the other and said: “ I know a secret; that stands for me;" and he made a mark thus, 1. “ Now, you arc my good friend and would like to know my secret; you are a man of honor, and if I tell you it will do no harm, and, at any rate, it will gratify you as a mark of my confidence, so I tell you,” and making another mark, 1, “that stands for you, so there are two that know it. But you are a married man, and, as your wife is a discreet woman, and you never have any secrets between you, some day when you are alone together, and have nothing to talk about, you tell her you know something curious, but are afraid she will speak of it. She will be indignant at not being trusted, insists that she ought to know; promises she moot will whisper it to anyone, and perhaps cries a little, so you tell her, and that stands for her;’’ he made another mark 1. “ Now, how many people know it?” “ Three,” said his friend. “ There are one hundred and eleven that know it —111,” said Stuart.—“ Aneedote* of Oilbeit Stuart ,” in Scribnfrrfor July. Five years ago a Boston man refused $125,000 for a certain piece of real estate. Now he wants to take $45,000 for the same thing.

Youths’ Department. EARS! Tub sir, fall of bumming, Mild something was com uat The old speckled hen. with little chicks ten. Flattered olt'. up the road The rooster, he crowed. The colt la the iOt bounded off, like a shot. The ho-se la the csrt glanced about with s start! The school-girU sad boys stopped racket and noise, W And all turned to look. Tne windows, they shook, For all the firm ground was trembling around. Did something foretell, by that omlnons hnmuilng. A train np the ra'lroad that moment was coming? Ah, yes! In the distance the coming train showed, And nearer, came ((kipping a small hoppy-toud. Small Iloppy stood still and tha prospect surveyed. Said: “What a commotion my coming has made!” The train, with a shriek, w-nt thundering by And Hoppy still stood, with a smile in hla eye! *• Tls strange,” he said, swelling; “that creatures so grand. Should be thus nffrlghted by me, as I stand.” And Hopoy bopped off with usmtrk on bis lip, And an air of Importance attended each skip!' —Fleta Forretter , in Youth's Companion.

And the Sun Smiled.

“Go away, for a little while,” said the rain to the sun. “ Don’t you see I am preparing to visit the earth ?* And, as you ought to know, the sun shouldn't be shining when the rain-drops are falling.” “ It’s such a lovely—such a very lovely day,” said the sun, “ and the earth is so beautiful and pleasant to see, that I don’t want to ‘ go away.’ ” “ I sha’n’t stay long—not more than five or ten minutes,” said the rain. “ I’ll only make a shower-call.” “ But I’m not content to lose sight of all this joy and loveliness even for ‘ five or ten minutes,’” said the sun. “Ever so many nbw buds and flowers came out to greet me this morning, and ever so many baby-birds sang to me their first twittering, tremulous songs, and the brooks dimpled and laughed as my rays kissed them, and the daisies looked straight up at me with frank, fearless faces, saying, ‘ Welcome, dear sud!’ —and the* buttercups proudly showed me their pretty blossoms, that I might see it was my color they wore; and they are all, at this moment, a 9 happy as happy can be. Why can’t you leave them alone? According to my way of thinking, they have no need of you in the day-time, when / am here to make life bright and warm. Wait until night lifts her curtain from the other half of the world to throw it over this. Then I shall be shining on far-distant lands, and the moon and stars will be in the sky in my place, and I dare say they won’t object to your clouds veiling their faces for an hour or two, for their light and power are nothing compared to mine, and the earth will be too sleepy to miss them anyhow.” “ My dear sun,” said the rain, “I grant that you make life ‘warm,’ but, begging your pardon for speaking so frankly, sometimes you make it too warm. Even while we are talking, it is getting warmer and warmer, as it does every midsummer day, from noon until two or three hours before night fall; and soon the flowers you love so well will begin to droop and fade, and the grass to bend weai ilv toward the ground, and the birds to cease singing, and the brooks to stop dancing, un less I send my merry, sparkling little ones to cheer and refresh them. Hide behind a cloud for a few moments, and when you come forth again'you will find the earth free from thirst, dust and stain, and a thousand times greener and more beautiful than now, before my pure drops have fallen upon it.” But the sun was obstinate that July day, and refused to be hidden by the friendly cloud, and so kept on shining when the shower began to fall. And, looking down on the earth as the glittering drops reached it, he saw the sweet hods opening their dainty leaves, the flowers raising their languid heads, every blade of grass standing erect and firm, the little streams dancing gayly to a cooing song of their own, and everything, everywhere, wearing a look of radiant happiness. And he said to the rain, “ You were right,” and, smiling upon her. his smile arched the heavens, ana, bright with every lovely hue that ever glowecf in gem or flower, shone there until the shower ceased, and children, beholding it, cried out, joyfully, “ A rainbow! a beautiful, beautiful rainbow!”— Margaret Eytinge, St. Nicholas for July.

Buttercup’s Circus.

Fred and Bertie, two little black-eyed boys, were visiting their Aunt Susan in a beautiful country village. The large, old-fashioned house, under a giant elmtree, was full of wonders to them; but their greatest delights were in driving the old gray horse, or"*feeding and petting anAlderney calf which their Uncle Harry was raising. This “ baby-cow,” as little Bertie called her, was Kept away from its mother, old Clover, moat of the day, and tied to a cherry-tree in the side yard. The boys named her Buttercup. Tnqy.were allowed to feed her with meal and water; and she soon grew so tame, that they could pat and caress her as much as they pleased. One day Fred found an old saddle in the stable; and he proposed to Bertie to help him put it on the calf, and have a ride the length of her rope. They succeeded in fastening it upon Buttercup’s smooth back; and Freddie exclaimed with delight, “ Now we will have a first-class circus!” They brought a chair from the bouse, and placed it by the side of Miss Cow, she looking wonderingly at them with great round eyes. The Doys both stood together in the chair, and Fred said, “ Now I will count, ana, when I say four, we must spring upon the saddle. One—two—three —four;” and on they went. But, before they could have said “ five,” Miss Buttercup’s heels were in the air, and her head went down so quickly, that Master Fred felt a sudden chill, and fouud himself in a tub of rain-water that stood under the eaves of the wood-shed; while Bertie went headforemost into a pan of meal and water. A siightnoise followed their fall. Their ancle and aunt appeared. The saddle was sent back to the stable, and the boys did not engage Buttercup for anymore circus performances that summer. — Nursery.

The Story of Bertram.

I MUST tell the school-boys the way in which Bertram got his education. His father was very poor, and the only way he had open to earn any money was to go to the fields and gather beetles, and siring them and cry them through the streets of Paris— ** Beetles, Beetles by the yard.” He found in searching through the fields other insects, and when the beetle season was over, he gathered rare insects, or fine butterflies, which he prepared so well that they were put into elegant gilt frames. He began to study, and he says the thing that attracted his attention was, that one dav when trying to catch a “ daddy long

a: s long time. Then he caught glow worm? and tried to find out how they produced their light. The ants, however, always to be found crawling under his feet, attracted his attention the moat. He found that they lived in a republic, without any rules, that they built large house* with several stories and galleries as passages from one room to another. That they had some rooms for storing provisions and others for nurseries for the sick, and nurseries for young ants. He found that the Red Ants fought with the Black Ants, and had done so tor agea. He tells ns about a battle he witnessed. The army of the Reds came early in the morning hoping to surprise their enemies; when about fifty feet from the bill occupied by the Blacks, they found the grourd covered by bits of straw, fruit, gram and worms. They fell upon this feast forgetting the enemies they had come to attack, ana were fallen upon by the Blacks, who had been lying in ambush. The result was many thousands slain and many prisoners of war. He tells us that the Blacks made these latter carry hack to the hill the bits of straw, fruit and worms which had served to bait the trap, and afterward retained them as slaves. I cannot tell you all the wonderful things that Bertram saw in the fields. But one day he sold some insects to a man who hud much taste for such things—a naturalist, and there he found books that gave him much information that was new to him even about the beetles and the ants. After some time he determined to tell the world what he had learned about the beetles, and this drew the attention of many learned men to him. Next he wrote a book about the glow-worms, and for this ’ King Charles X. made him Chevalier of the Legion of Honor. Then he wrote about the ants, and he w.as appointed Professor in the Museum of Natural History, and afterward was elected a member ot the Academy of Science. All this for using his eyes. Try now, children, and use your eyes, for the world is full of strange things.— N. Y. Bchool Journal.

History and Uses of Gunpowder.

Who invented gunpowder? No one knows. All agree that its composition and propeities were understood in remote antiquity. Authentic history extends bat a short way into the past, ana it is always difficult to draw the line separating the authentic from the fabulous. Like some other tilings, gunpowder, as ages rolled on, may have been invented, forgotten and re-invented. Certainly in some form it was known and used for fireworks and incendiary material long before anyone dreamed of a gun, or of using it to do more than create terror in warfare. And yet it is said that some of the ancients had means of using it to throw destructive missiles among their enemies—probably a species of rocket or bomb. Nor does it seem, in its infancy, to have been applied to industrial purposes, such as blasting and quarrying rock, for there is evidence that the people who used it for fire-works at their feasts quarried immense blocks of stone by splitting them ont of the quarries with hammers and wedges. Its first uses probably were connected with the religious ceremonies of the pagan ancients. An old tradition taught that those were the most powerful gods who answered their worshipers by fire. The priests, therefore, who practiced upon the credulity of the people, exercised their ingenuity in inventing ways of producing spontaneous fire, which they told the people was sent ty the gods from Heaven in answer to their prayers. The accounts of old writers still preserved and dating back to three hundred years before Christ, describe “a sulphurous and inflammable substance,” unmistakably like our gunpowder. There was a certain place galled the “ Oracle of Delphi,” once visited by Alexander the Great, where this kind of fire was produced by the priests, and It is said that the Druids, the ancient priests of Britain, also used something of this sort in their sacrifices, for they not only produced sudden fire, but they also imitated thunder and lightning, to terrify the people with their power. This must have been more than two thousand years ago It is known that the Chinese, on the other side of the world, had gunpowder about the same time, but they used it chiefly for fire-works, which then, as now, formed the main feature of all their festivals and ceremonies. In India it was early used in war, for a writer who lived about A. D. 244 says: “When the towns of India are attacked by their enemies the people do not rush into battle, but put them to flight by thunder and lightning.” It is said, too, that one of the Roman Emperors, who lived just after the crucifixion of Christ, “ had machines which imitated thunder and lightning, and at the same time emitted stones.” Then, about A. D. 220, there was written a recipe “ for an ingenious composition to be thrown on an enemy,” which verr nearly corresponds to our gunpowder. During the many hundred years that follow, little is recorded until about the ninth, century* when there appears in an old book, now in a Paris library, an exact recipe for gunpowder, and a description of a rocket. It is said that in 1099 the Saracens, in defending Jerusalem, “ threw abundance of pots of fire and shot fire-darts”—no donbt some kind of bombs and war-rockets. History affords accounts of other wars about this time, in which gunpowder was undoubtedly used in some form. Bat in 1210 a monk, Friar Roger Bacon, made gunpowder; and it is asserted he discovered it independently, knowing nothing of its existence elsewhere. It is not unreasonable to believe this, for in those days people kept their inventions to themselves if they could, and news traveled slowly. Borne authors say a German named Schwartz discovered it in 1320, and perhaps he did, too, and as honestly and independently as did Friar Bacon, or the East Indians or the Chinese. Others Insist that it was invented originally in India, and brought by the Saracens fiom Africa to the Europeans, who improved it. At any rate, an English gentleman who has made a translation of some of the laws of India, supposed to have been established 1,500 years before the Christian era, or over 8,300 years ago, makes one of them read thus: “The Magistrate shall not make war with any deceitful machine, or with poisoned weapons, or with cannon and guns, or any kind of firearms.”—St. Nicholas for July. —The miserable little three-cent pieces coined in 1853, and whose disappearance from circulation did more than anything else to reconcile the people to postal currency, are returning again, not to “plague” the inventor, but to bother the Postmaster. —Detroit Free Press. —The authorship of the Kentucky resolutions of ’9B, which has been attributed by nearly all histories to Thomas Jefferson, is disputed by the Breckinridge# of Kentucky in the name of their ancestor, John Breckinridge.