The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

iSS» f " »<, ' J. YAH 8LYKE, Editor A M«HENRY. : : ILLINOIS ijSsg* ... ^ l,-t ZiOS J r^l.¥ >&' > fY .... l.^i^ V/ A WIXJD roae by the wayaide hung. Dew-glittering on the morning air, •""* . A pore, scaroe-oonscioae perfume flufffe. *•:'«-I looked, and found the floweret fair--.,, ; go fair I sought with sudden zest » 7?° To wear ita beauty on my breast v- The trembling petals at my touch • ' A sweeter, subtler fragrance shed; ;̂ T "Kb strange I loved that flowe^o n*#*, And--it was dead. '.•IB the high mood when thought hath wings, .And finds alone it* speech in sonp, I"struck an old harp's slumbering brings And drew an idle hand along; 'War deemed the carelesscords had can iThe e life note that ray spirit sought, Till sudden on my startled ear, Ite dream-created accents woke 'Alack! I bought the rapture The string had broke. 1 heard a wild bird on the shore "i ,' ySaWM!» wild song to the sea; %£a hold the burden that it Inn, 'And tweeter than «11 else to me- So sweet, I caged the bird to hear Jfc* oi.'tKic miiiHtreis.v more near. -.y. •m ^ Untamed, the captive's swelling 41k%Hfi fit one sad songt his whole soul cast, Too well 1 know his loveliest note >i Baa been his last. C " 4fed yet, while memory hath power V To count the hours too vainly spent, " Tbe fragrance of that faded flower. That harp's last dying music, blent With the wild bird's weird death-son ̂will Haunt every waking moment still, f .̂ Teaching my heart the bitter cost JOt all the eye of hope hath seen. Of ail. that life hath won and lost-- . That might have been. --Tin«ley"s Magazine. FEBRUARY BAIN. ' 01A >'-??.;? .y to! No sonnets are heard Save winds and floods that dowovsrd poor, . -And timid fluting «>f a bird. That pipes one low note o'er and o'er. Before the blast the bare trees lean. The ragged clouds sail low and gray, And all the wild and wintry scene lis but one blur of driving spray. "O day most meet for memories. For musing bv a vacant hearth "On that which was and that which is, And those who walk no more on earth! And yet this dark and dreary day Some brighter lesson still can bring. For it is herald of the May, A faint foretoken, of the spring. Beneath the ceaseless-beating rain Earth's snowy Bhroud f ast disappears. As sorrow pressing on the brain, ^"Fades in a flood of happy tears. And thus in darkness oft is wrought. Through lonely days of tears and grief, The gradual change by which is brought To shadowed lives some sweet relief. -- Chan. T. Dazty, in Seribner's Monthly. THE EXPRESS TRAIN. Two OR three of us had lounged out «of the club one night, into Santley's of­ fice, to find out the news coming in by cable, which the sleeping town would not hear until the paper would be out to-morrow. Santley was editor of the Courier. He was scribbling away at -driving speed, his hat on, an ttnlighted •cigar in his mouth. 44 You're at it late, Ben?" 44 Accident on a Western road. Sixty lives lost," without looking up. We seized the long white slips which lay coiled over the table, and read the ^dispatch. "Tut, tut!" ^Infamous!" t, f4 Nobody to blame, of course," 44 I tell you the officers of a road . where such an accident is possible should be tried for murder!" cried Fer­ rers. Santley shoved his copy to the boy, and lighted his cigar. " I think you're wrong, Ferrers. Instead of being startled at such casualties, 1 never travel on a railway that I am not amazed at the security of them. Just think of it. Thousands of trains run­ ning yearly on each, with but a min­ ute to spare between safety and destruc­ tion, the safety of these depending on conductors, telegraph clerks, brakes­ men, men of every grade of intellect, their brains subject to every kind of moods and disease and tempers. The engineer takes a glass of liquor; the conductor sets his watch half a minute too fast; the flagman falls asleep, and the train is dashed to ruin! It is not the accident that is to be wondered at; it is the escape that is miraculous!" We all had dropped into seats by this time. The night was young, and one after another told some story of ad- - venture or danger. Presently Santley said, "There was an incident which occurred on the £hilapelphia & Erie Road a few years ago, which made me feel as I do in the matter. I happened to be an eye-witness to the whole af­ fair." 44 What was it, Ben?" " It's rather a long story " *4 No matter. Go on. xou can't go %ome until your proof comes in, any­ how." ^ " Nq. Well, to make you understand, about five years ago I had a bad break-down--night-work, hack-writing and. poor pay. You know how fast it all wears out the machine. The doc­ tor talked of diseases of the gray mat­ ter of the brain, etc., and prescribed, instead of medicine, absolute rest and change of scene. I would have swal­ lowed all the nostrums in a drug-shop rather than have left the office for a week. 44 4 I'll take country board and send in my editorials,' I said. 444 No; you must drop office and work utterly out of your life for a month at least. Talk and think of planting po­ tatoes, or embroidery--anything but newspapers and politics.' "Well, I obeyed. I started on a pe­ destrian tour through Pennsvlvania, studied bil stock in Alleghany County, and ate sauerkraut in Berks. Finally I brought up--footsore and bored be yond bearing--in Williamsport. While there, 1 fell into the habit of lounging about the railway station, studying the construction of the engines, and mak­ ing friends with the men. The man with whom I always fraternize most readily is the skilled mechanic. He has a degree of common sense--a store of certain facts which your young doctor or politician is apt to lack. Beside, he is absolutely sure of his social stand­ ing ground, and has a grave self-re­ spect which teaches him to respect you. tThe professional lad just started on his career is uneasy, not sure of his posi- • tion; he tries to climb perpetually. J you thia to explain my intimacy with many of the officials on the road, especially with an engineer n&lafgr Blakely. " This man attracted me first by his ability to give me the information I wanted in a few direct, sharp words. Like most reticent men, he knew the weight and value of words. I soon be­ came personally much interested in him. He was about forty, his hair streaked with gray, with a grave, worn face, which hinted at a youth of hard­ ships and much suffering. However, Blakely had found his way to the up­ lands at last. Three years before he had married a bright, cheerful woman. They had one child--a boy. He had work and good wages, and was, I found, high in the confidence of the company. On one occasion, having a Sunday off, he took me up to Jersey Shore, where his wife and boy lived. He was an exceptionally silent man, but when with them was garrulous and light-hearted as a boy. In his eyes Jane was the wisest and fairest of women, and the boy a wonder of intel­ lect. One great source of trouble to him was, its I found, that he was able to see them but once in three weeks. It was necessary for the child's health to keep them in the country air, and, in­ deed, he could not afford to have them elsewhere; but this separated him from them almost wholly. Jane was in the habit of coming with Charley down to a Certain point of the road every day, that Blakely might see them as he dashed by. " And when I found out this habit, it occurred to me that I could give Blake­ ly a great pleasure. How often have I cursed my meddling kindness since. January 25 was the child's birthday. I proposed to Mrs. Blakely that she and Charley should board the train which her husband drove, unknown to him, and run up to Harrisburg, where he had the night off. There was to be a little supper at the Lochiel House. Charley was to appear in a new suit, etc. Of course the whole affair was at my expense--a mere trifle, but an af­ fair of grandeur and distinction which fairly took Jane's breath. She was a most innocent, happy creature; one of those women who are wives and moth­ ers in the cradle. When Blakely found her she was a thin, pale little tailoress --a machine to grind out badly-made shoddy clothes. But three years of marriage and petting of Charley had made her rosy and plump and pretty. " The little Highland suit was bought complete, to the tiny dirk and feather, and veiy pretty the little fellow looked in it. I wrote down to order a stunning supper, to be ready at eight. Jane and the boy were to go aboard the train at Jersey Shorfe* a queer little hill village near which they lived. Blakely ran the train from Williamsport down to Harrisburg that day. His wife being in the passenger car before he took charge of the 'engine, of course he would see and know nothing of her un­ til we landed at Harrisburg at seven. I had intended to go down in the smok­ ing car as usual, but another fancy, suggested, I suppose, by the originator of all evil, seized me. No need quite to laugh. Satan, I believe, has as much to do with accidents and misery and death as with sin. Why not? However my fancy, diabolic or not, was to go down on the engine with Blakely. I nunted up the fireman, and talked to him for an hour. Then I went to the engineer. " 4 Blakely,' I said, 4 Jones (the fire­ man) wants to-night off.' '•Off! Oh, no doubt. He's taking to drink. He must have been drinking when he talked of that. It is impos­ sible.' 441 explained to Blakely that Jones had a sick wife, or a sweetheart, or something, and finally owned that I had an unconquerable desire to run down the road on the engine, and that knowing my only chance was to take the fireman's place, had bribed him to give it to me. The fact was that in my idleness and the overworked state of my brain I craved excitement as a confirmed drunkard does liquor. 44 Blakely, I saw, was angry and ex­ ceedingly annoyed. He refused at first, but finally gave way with a grave civil­ ity which almost made me ashamed of my boyish whim. I promised to be the prince of firemen. " 4 Then you'll have to be treated as one, Mr. Santley,' said Blakely, curtly. *1 can't talk to gentlemen aboard my express. It's different from here, on the platform, you'll remember. I've got to order and you to obey in there, and that's all there's of it.' 44 4 Oh, I understand,' I said, think­ ing that it required little moral effort to obey in the maimer of shoveling coal. If I could have guessed what that shov­ eling coal was to cost me! But all day I went about thinking of the fiery ride through the hills, mounted literally on the iron horse. " It was in the middle of the after­ noon when the train rushed into the station. I caught a glimpse of Jane on the passenger car, with Charley, mag­ nificent in his red and green plaid, be­ side her. She nodded a dozen times and laughed, and hid behind the win­ dow, fearing her husband should see her. Poor girl! It was the second great holiday of her life, she had told me, the first being her wedding day. 44 The train stopped ten minutes. It was neither an express nor an acco m modation train, but one which stopped at the principal stations on the route-- Selinsgrove, Sunbury, etc. 441 had an old patched suit on, fit, I suppose, for the service of coal-heav­ er; but Blakely, when I came up, eyed it and my hands sardonically. He was in no better temper, evidently, With fimateur firemen than he had been in the morning. 44 4 All aboard!' he said, gruffly. 4 You take vour place there, Mr. Santley. You'll put in coal just as I call for it, if vou please, and not trust to your own judgment.1 44 His tone annoyed me. 4 It cannot require much judgment to keep up a fire under a boiling pot, ^and not to make it too hot. Any woman can do that in her own kitchen? 44 He made no reply, but took his place in the little square box where the greater part of his life was passed. I noticed that his face was flushed, and his irritation at my foolish whim was surely more than the occasion required. I watched him with keen curiosity, wondering if it were possible that he had ac- 41 It strikes me as odd/' interrupted Ferrers, 44 that you should have not only made an intimate companion of this fellow, Santley, but have taken so keen a* interest inihis tempers and drkiking-bpits.i Y« would not be lik&fy io hfonor any if us with such at- U i 44 No. I have something else to do. I was absolutely idle then. Blakely and his family for the time made up my world. As for the friendship, this was an exceptional man, both as to in­ tegrity and massive hard sense. The knowledge that comes from books counts with me but for little, compared with the education given by experience and contact with facts for forty years. 1 was honored by the friendship of this giimy engineer. But the question of his sobriety that dav was a serious one. A man in charge of a train with hun­ dreds of souls aboard, I felt ought to be sober, particularly when I was shut up in the engine, with him. as wo started of paper wa» haniMd which i»e rem- and threw down, v 44 4 Do you rtin this train by tele­ graph?' I asked, beginning to shovel vigorously. 44 4 Yes. No more co&L' 44 4 Isn't that unusual!' 44 4 Yes. There are two special trains on the road this afternoon. . _44' Is it ^difficult to fun a train by telegraph?1 J said presently, simply to make conversation. Staring in silence at the narrow slit in the gloomy fur­ nace or out at the village street, through which we slowly passed, was monotonous. 44 4 No, not difficutt. I simply have to obey the instructions which I receive at each station.' 44 4 But if you should happen to think the instructions not right?' * 44 4 Happen to think! Fte *0 'holi­ ness to,think at qjl When the trains run by telegraph the engineers are so many machines in the hand of one con­ troller, who directs them all from a central point. He has the whole road under his eye. If they don't obey to the least tittle their orders, it is destruction to the whole.' 44 4 You seem to think silent obedience the first and last merit in a railway man?' 44 4 Yes,' dryly. 441 took the hint and was dumb. 44 We were out of town now. Blake­ ly quickened the speed of the engine. 1 did not spank to nina. There was lit­ tle for me to; do, aftd I wis occupied in looking out 4t 4h£ flying landscape. The fields were covered with a deep fall of snow, and glanced whitely by, with a strange, unreal shimmer. The air was keen and cutting. Still the ride was tame. I was disappointed. The excitement would by no means equal a dash on a spirited horse. I be­ gan to think I had little to pay for my grimy hands and face when we slowed at the next station. One or two pas­ sengers came aboard the train. There was the inevitable old lady with bun­ dles, alighting, and the usual squabble about her trunks, X was craning my neck to her, when the boy ran along­ side with the telegram. 4 4 The next moment I heard a smoth­ ered exclamation from Blakely. 44 4 Go back,' said he to the boy. 4 Tell Sands to have the message re­ peated. There's a mistake-' 4 4 The boy dashed off, and Blakely sat waiting, coollv polishing a bit of the shining brass before him. Back came the boy. 44 4 Had it repeated. Sands is raging at you. Says there's no mistake, and you'd best get on,' thrusting the second message up. s * i ' * 4 "• • 44 Blakely r»ad itf andisfcood hesitating for half a minute.' I never shall forget the dismay, the utter perplexity, that gathered in his lean face as he looked at the telegram, and at the long train behind him. His lips moved as if he were calculating chances and his eye suddenly quailed, as if he saw death at the end of the calculation. 44 4 What's the matter? What are you going to do?' I asked. 44 4 Obey.' 41 The engine gave a long shriek of horror, that made me start as if it were^ Blakely's awga voice. The jjext instant we rushed out of the station, and dashed through the low-lying farms at a speed wnich seemed dan­ gerous to me. 44 4 Put in more coal,' stud Blakely. 441 shoveled it in. 44 4 We are going very fast, Blakely,' I ventured. 44 He did not answer. His eyes were fixed on the steam-gauge; his lips close­ ly shut. " 44 4 More coal!' 441 threw it in. 4'The fields «nch*houses began Wfly j&#t, bat half seen, ^'e were near SiinbUry. Blakely's eye went from the fauge to the face of the titne-piece and ack. He moved like an automaton. There was little more meaning in his face. 44 4 More!' without turning his eye. " I took up the shovel--hesitated. 44 4 Blakely! We're going very fast. We're going at the rate of sixty miles an hour.' 44 4 Coal.' 441 was alarmed at the stern, cold rigidity of the man. His pallor was be­ coming frightful. 441 threw in the coal. 44 At least we must stop in Sunbury. He had told me that was the next halt. 4 4 The little town approached. As the first house came in view, the engine sent out its shriek of warning; it grew louder, louder. We dashed into the street, up to the station, where a group of passengers waited, and past it with- Qut the halt of an instant. I caught a glimpse of the appalled faces ox the ^aijing.fcrewd^ Theji we were, .in |the "The Spe4d' now? became literally breathless; the furnace glared red-hot. The heat, the velocity, the terrible nervous strain of the man beside me, seemed to weigh the air. I found my­ self drawing long stertorious breaths, like one drowning. I heaped in the coal at intervals, as he bade me." 44 Td have done nothing of the kind!" interrupted one of the listeners. 44 The man was mad." : . . 441 did it because I was oppressed by an odd sense of duty, which I never had in my ordinary brain-work. I had taken this mechanical task on myself, tod I felt a stricture upon me to go through with it at any cost. I know now how it is that dull, ignorant men, without a spark of enthusiasm, show such heroism sometimes, as soldiers, engineers, Captains of wrecked vessels. It is a finer thing than sheer bravery, to my notion. However, I began to be of your mind, Wright, that Blakely was mad, laboring under some sudden frenzy from drink, though I had never seen him touch liquor. 44 He did not move hand nor foot, ex­ cept in the mechanical control of the engine, his eye going from the gauge to the timepiece with a steadiness that was more terrible and threatening than any gleam of insanity would have been. Once he glanced back at the long1 train sweeping after the engine, with a head­ long speed that rocked it from side to side. You would cacth glimpses of hundreds of men and pmen talking, reading^, smoking, unconscious that their lives were all in the hold of one man, whom I now strongly suspected to be mad. I knew by his look that he remembered their lives were in his hand. He glanced at the clock. 4 4 ' Twenty miles, ' he mutteredJ * Throw on the coal, Jones. The fire is going out.' "1 did it. Yes, I did it. There was something in the face of that man that I could not resist. Then I climbed for­ ward and shook him by the shoulder. _ 44 4 Blakely!' I shouted, 4 you are run­ ning this train into the jaws of death.' 44 4 1 know it,' quietly. 44 4 Your wife and child are on it* 44 4 My God!' \ 44 He staggered to his feet. But even then he did not move his eye from the gauge. 44 4 In a minute ' 44 4 Make up the fire,' he said, and pushed in the t hrottle-valve 44 4 1 will not.' V 44 4 Make up the fire, Mr. Santley,' very quietly. 44 4 1 will not. You may murder your­ self and your wife and boy, but you shall not murder me.' 44 He looked at me. His kindly gray eves glared like those of a wild beast. But he controlled himself in a moment. 44 4 1 could throw you out of this door, and make short work of it. But--look here; do you see the station yonder?' 441 saw a thin wisp of smoke against the sky, about five miles in advance. 44 4 1 was told to reach that station by Six o'clock. The express train meeting us is due now. I ought to have laid by for it at Sunbury. I was told to come on. The track is a single one. Unless I can make the siding at that station in three minutes, we will meet it yonder in the hollow.' 44 4 Somebody blundered?" 44 4 Yes, 1 think so.' 44 4 And you obeyed?' 44 He said nothing. I threw on eoal. If I had had petroleum, I would have thrown it on. But I never was calmer in my life. When Death has a man ac­ tually by the throat it sobers him. 44 Blakely pushed in the valve still further. The engine began to give a strange panting sound. Far off to the south 1 could see the bituminous black smoke of a train. 441 looked at Blakely inquiringly. He nodded. It was the express. 441 stooped to the fire. 1,4 No more,' he said. * 441 looked across the clear, wintry sky at the gray smoke of the peaceful little village and beyond, that bladk line coming closer, closer, across the Sky. Then I turned to the watch. 44 In one minute more-- 44 Gentlemen, I confess; I sat down and buried my face in my hands. I don't think I tried to pray. I had a confused thought of a mass of mangled, dying men and women, mothers and their babies, and, vaguely, of a merci­ ful God. Little Charley with his curls and pretty suit-- 44 There was a terrific shriek from the engine, against which I leaned. Another in my face. A hot tempest past me. "I looked up. We were on the sid­ ing, and the express had gone by. The hindmost cars touched in passing. 4 4 4 Thank God! You've * done it! Blakely!' I cried. 44 But he did not speak. He sat there immovable, and cold as a stone. I went to the cars and brought Jane and the boy to him, and vrhen he opened his eyes and took the little woman's hands in his I went away. 44 An engineer named Fred, who was at the station, ran the train into Harris­ burg. Blakely was terribly shaken. But we went down and had our little feast, after all. Charley, at least, en­ joyed it." 44What was the explanation? A blunder of the director, or the telegraph operator?" 441 don't know. Blakely made light of it afterwards, -and kept the secret. These railway men must have a strong esprit de corps. 44 All I know is that Blakely's salary was raised soon after, and he received a very handsome 4 testimonial for services rendered,' from the company." Youths' Department* THE BOLL OF TEE MONTHS. *0$ '"iMrouK, brisk and nmvrt • ̂* * ^ Silver bells sound blithe and pgr! s^; , ^StSftSSSui ̂ I?*'" , oomnlatest month and sweetest fa -v r ~ra them from her dainty hands* June, the year's hich noon, * *>ri ••jv&Oalm, and fair, and regal stands. y ; r "Jfcdy, when summer heats o'ereome her* • Seeks the shade of forest nooks; h j " queenly-grand, serenely qaeeniv-gnuia, serenely > Wanders by the woodland brooks. EM M_ 1W1U UVK urcKWU 1 1, m When October, somewhat sober, 1 .1 Plaints the woods with_colorajgay; r'M --A servant at Boston Highlands merits distinction for the plucky way in which she fooled a tramp a few days ago, as he was trying to enter the house with evident burglarious intent. Failing in his ruses to induce her to leave the door, he lunged violently against it, and, as the door gave way suddenly, he caught at the hinge-post to save himself from falling with it. The girl saw her opportunity, and vio­ lently closed the door again, catching the intruder's fingers in the crevice. She now had him foul, and she held him there writhing and pleading for mercy until he was thoroughly cowed, and only too eager to escape from the place on the double-quick. --44 See here, Parker, what's the difference between a ripe watermelon and a rotten cabbage?" asked one letter-carrier of another, the other day. 44 You've got me there; I don't know," he returned, with a look more puzzled than an illiterate man at a cross-road guide-board. 44 Then you would be a mighty nice man to send after a water­ melon, you would," remarked the quizzer, as he moved on. THE Internal Revenue report shows over 6,100 retail liquor dealers who sell spirituous liquors in Massachusetts. > *• wiuw wro vfwuB wivu « Rovember's curtain--sad, uncertain-- ' "'fie^ber^he ̂mtS^hrwtmas cheer *' Flits the year away -away! --Mr** M. E. V. Hates, in Youth g Companion. Chimneys and Chlmiey-Sweepen, IN cities and large towns, when wood was burned altogether, soot from the wood fires would collect in the chim­ neys, and if this were not removed from time to time, It would catch on fire and burn furiously, and if this hap pened in a dry time, there was danger that the house, or other houses, might be burned. Those who make a trade of clearing out chimneys are called44 chimney-sweepers," "chimney­ sweeps," and more frequently merely 44 sweeps." A 44 sweep" is now quite rare in New York, though once in a while we have seen one m the back streets, and looking as if he had not had a job in a very long time. Still, one need not be very old to recollect when the sweep's cry was one of the common street noises. They usually went in pairs, a man and a boy, and as they dressed in keeping with their trade, you may be sure that they were not very handsome to look at. They were generally colored people, but if white persons followed the business, they were so blackened with soot that it was not easy to tell them from the black sweeps. Early in the morning the streets would ring with their cries. The fellows had strong voices, and they would sing rather than shout, 44 Sweep O! Sweep O! From the bottom to the top, sweep O-o-o-o." But when the people in the cities gave up burn­ ing wood, and used coal instead, the trade of the sweeps was spoiled, and their song is now rarely heard--though it is now and then, as there are still a few old-fashioned people who prefer to burn wood--enough in a large city like New York to give employment to here and there a sweep. The use of coal in place of wood for cooking and warming houses was a great improve­ ment--and a great blessing, too, for if all burned wood now, as they did fifty years ago, it is difficult to see where enough wood could have been found, and it would now be a very costly ar­ ticle. The houses of our grandparents were, at best, but poorly heated by wood fires, and coal not only brought an increase of comfort, but much labor of sawing, splitting and bringing in wood and Keeping the fire in good order as saved. But the coming in of coal brought a greater blessing than either or all of these--at least to a few--it broke up the trade of the sweeps. You may think it was a blessing to stop them because they were so dirty ana noisy, but that is not it. The trade was a bad one; sometimes a wicked one, in the abuse of little boys. Some machines were invented, which allowed the sweeping of chim­ neys to be done by men only, but most of the sweeps stuck to the old plan, and had a boy to climb up on the inside of the chimney, and scrape away the soot from its sides. How many of you boys from six to twelve years old would like such a life as that? Just think how dismal it must have been for these poor little felloes to climb up, at the risk of their lives, the long, black, dark chim­ ney, with the soot filling the air and making it difficult to breathe! But be­ fore we say any more about our little friend, the sweep, let us say something about chimneys. You must know that people had fires in their homes long be­ fore they had chimneys. How very uncomfortable it must have been to have a fire in the middle of the room, and a hole in the ceiling above for the smoke to go out of, and the rain to come in at. Yet this was the way in which those who, 500 years ag?. lived in the grand old castles, managed their fires. We read absut the great wealth and splendor of the pld barons, with hundreds of followers, but they did not live half so comfortably as the day laborer does now-a-days. The first chimneys were not made like ours; the stone walls of the big houses and castles were very thick, and a tire-plaice was made in the wall, with a passage in the wall for the smoke, which found its way to the open air through a hole in the side of the building. After a while chimneys, much sucn as we have now, were built. Where wood is burned, some of the matters that are formed in the burning condense on the sides of the chimney, that is, they cool and harden there, and this forms what is called spot, which in time would gather in such quantities as to check, if it did not stop the draft. Beside this, as already stated, the soot will burn, and a 44 chimney on fire"' as it is called, is a dangerous afl'air in a dry time. There were two ways of get- ing rid of the soot, one was to burn it out, taking a wet day when there was no danger of setting the roofs on fire. A lot of straw or shavings were put in­ to the chimney and set on fire and the soot burned out. Another way was to have the chimney swept. Chimneys at first were built very large, but as room became valuable, they were made smaller, and mostly the flues were so small that only a boy could work his way through them. For many years, in England, the homeless pauper boys were apprenticed to chimney-sweepers, and it would be a sad storv if the suf­ ferings of these poor little creatures could be told. Living in dirt, and breathing soot, they were subject to peculiar diseases, and one known as the 44 chimney sweep's cancer," was very fatal. But let us be glad that the law has put a stop to this abuse, and that in England, at least, this wretched use of boys is no longer allowed. Hard, or anthracite, coal is used in all the towns Mid cities on the Atlantic Coast; • 1 . \\ this makes no soot, but where the aoffc or bituminous coal is used, as it is wesfe- ; - of the Alleghanies and in Europe, ther chimneys get foul and must be swept. There is. However, no mora need ol̂ :! employing boys to scrape the chimneys, as there are now contrivances by which the sweeping may be done without them. --American Agriculturist. " - * * ' 1 . -tf-.: -A Lesson In Flying. * Bmis fttive their trials as well as Ut­ ile boys and girls. To be sure they?" don't have to stand in a line, and shonft Twice ofte are two" at the top of; their voices; but they have to learn U» fly, and I think it very likely that theyt -. take singing-lessons, although lamnof sure as to that. One day last summer I was picl flowers in the woods, when, hap to look up, what should I see perch on a twig just in front of me but a cunf ning litue bird! | At first I kept very quiet, lest I should frighten him away; "but, as he showecf . no sign of moving, I ventured iiesreif and nearer, until I evfcn covered hint * with my hand. 44 Why, dear me! he's nothing but . baby-bird, and can't fly," I said to aayW- self; and then I sat down on a mossy^ mound near by, and waited; for l.kneifff| the mother-bird was not far off, and if ^ wanted to see what was going on. f!; It was not long before I heard a gen­ tle whirr in the leaves overhead, and, looking up, saw two birds circling^ around the twig, but at some distanced above it. Then one of them, the moth**' 1 er, of course, drew nearer and nearer in smaller and smaller circles, atthet same time calling to her baby in en­ couraging little chirps. Birdie on his perch seemed very much excited, turning his head from one side to the other in the cunningest way. But when his mother came close to him, only to dart off and call on him to follow, "he looked so disappointed that 1 really felt as if I must comfort him^ The mother came back very soon Mid > resumed her lesson in flying, and very hard work she found it too, for the lit­ tle fellow was timid and refused tcjfe follow her, in spite of all her coaxing! and scolding. After working alongp while, she flew off, leaving her baby trembling on his perch. I pitied the poor little fellow, he seemed so forlorn and helpless. The little bird, left to himself got tired at last of staying where he was, and made one or two efforts to fly. Hep flapped his wings, rounded up his bac& until he looked like a ball of down and leaned forward, as much as to say, "Til do it now." But when he sat the awful distance between himself an the ground, his courage failed him, an<r he clung to Ms perch more tightly th&tl ever. After a while the mother-bird cam* back, bringing a large bug which shfr used as a bribe for her timid Mrdling|. holding it under his very bill, and thev.' darting off in the hope that he woul(§ follow. The youngster chirped for th^ bug but he would not fly for it; andt after many efforts, the old bird, unablo to resist his pleading, perched on %• twig just beneath him, and held up the® bug, which you may be sure he was not slow to seize and eat. The little fellow now seemed to make up his mind to fly, even if he died in^ the attempt. He flapped Ms wingsj.^ rounded his back, and leaned forward ̂ as before, while the mother-bird flewr^ about, fluttering and chirping to sucl|^ an extent that the father came dow: from the top of a high tree to see ho1 they were getting along. The little bird was just about to fl; and I was just ready to clap mv ham in applause, when, lo! there ne wi clinging to his perch again, trembling with fear, and chirping, 441 can't do it I dare not. Oh, dear!" The two old birds flew away mnoi disappointed; but the mother soon re| turned with another bug. and the lesson was repeated. - indeed it was repeated so many times, that I began to los patience with the little coward, a to be full of pity for the poor mother. His birdship had just eaten a bug* and the parent-birds Were chirping and - flying around, when, with the hope of helping them in their Isbors, i steppe#' forward, and tapped him on the nift with a flowcr-stem. The blow was s# sudden and unexpected, that, before hfe L»d time to- think, he lifted his wings ' and flew to a neighboring twig, where ne clung, frightened and delighted at what he^ had done. I left him then, with his father and mother making just such a time over him as your fathers and mothers made ox*r you when you took your first steps.--Mabel Elwell, in Nursery. m M •y- 'g A Bole With a Thorn. sim A lady, as well known for her artistic abilities as for her want of punctuality in the payment of her debts, was % 44 bright particular star" at Her Maj­ esty's Theater during the operatic sea­ son which has just come to an end. She, was 44 wanted" by Mr. P., a solicitor, who was anxious to serve her wit 44 process." The lady was coy an could not be interviewed. Mr. P., therefore, took a box on the pit tier, and when the lady had finished a well- executed air he gallantly threw to hei* a beautiful bouquet, which had figured in front of his box. The lady took it up and smiled graciously upon her ad­ mirer. Nestling in the flowers was a note. Was it a billet-doux? The lady slowly drew it forth. She opened it. Alas! it was not a tender of a heart and hand. It commenced, 44 Victoria." She started back, for her name was not Victoria. The missive was from Her Majesty to the artiste. It bore a seal, but not of Hymen. It was, indeed, a writ. The lady treated the matter as a theatrical joke. The Court of Queen* 4 ^ Bench did not. Judgment was ob^^Jb*^ tained, and the lady was arrested a$ ^ * she was leaving the theater with her weekly salary, and her daughter by her side. She was taken to a sponging- house. That evening she was to ap­ pear in one of her best parts. A gal­ lant nobleman, hearing of what had oc­ curred, came to the rescue, and, pro­ viding himself with sovereigns, ob­ tained her release. No one, under th*f feL ..r'jrja •M