1884 .] 
AMEEIOAK AGBlOIiLTUBIST. 
383 
zled. “Which shall it be?” whispered May in 
despair, as she viewed the group, of all ages and 
descriptions. But there was little time to ehoose, 
for the hospitable farmers and their wives had 
flocked from all the country round, and were 
speedily selecting their guests. 
“That is a fine looking boy,” said Harry, point¬ 
ing toward a lad about his own age, in a torn 
straw hat, who was bidding “ good bye ” to a little 
girl, and without more ado, he stepped forward and 
said, “ will you come with me !”—It was a bright 
sunny face that turned to meet him, and a plea-sant 
voice that gladly assented, while the little street 
Arab showed a sort of rough courtesy in the way 
he pulled off his ragged hat, as his young host said, 
“ this is my sister May, and I am Harry Ellis.”— 
“ My name is Jack Carter, but the fellers generally 
cali me ‘ Bridge Mouse.’ “ Why ? ” asked May, 
opening her brown eyes in surprise.—“Oh! cause 
when the papers don’t go off sharp, I mostly sleeps 
round the Brooklyn Bridge; and some first-rate 
places there are under the arches, too.”—“Are you 
a news-boy?” asked Harry,—“Yes, I cries ‘Tri¬ 
bune, World, and Eve’nin Telegram ’ for a livin’, 
and when times is good, a collision on the Elevat¬ 
ed, a panic, or anything lively, I jest live in clover, 
git a fifteen-cent dinner, and put up at the News¬ 
boys’ Home, in style. But is this the real, true 
country.”—“Yes,” said Harry, “and old Peter is 
waiting to take us home to supper,” and he led the 
way to the two-seated wagon, drawn by a steady¬ 
going white horse, in which they were soon rattling 
briskly over the road toward the Ellis homestead; 
while Jack kept Harry and May in continual bursts 
of laughter by his quaint remarks.—“ How good 
it smells,” he exclaimed, as he inhaled the air, 
sweet with the odor of clover and new mown hay, 
“ jest like a big Washington Market ‘ bokay. ’ Who 
owns all them flowers ?” and he pointed to a great 
field of yellow and white daisies.—“ You and I as 
much asany one,” laughed Harry, “they’re wild.” 
—“Really I oh ! how I wish Dicky could see ’em, 
he loves posies so. Dicky is my brother, and 
blacked boots tiU he was run over one day, and 
took to the hospital; but won’t the p’lice be after 
yer if yer go on the grass ?”—“ No indeed, there 
are no policemen here.”—“It’s a heap nicer then, 
than Central Park, for the cops is allers a tollin’ yer 
to move on, jest as though there was any place to 
move to.” 
So gaily chatting, they felt very well acquainted 
before the farm-house was reached, where Mrs. El¬ 
lis stood in the doorway, and little Lilly came run¬ 
ning down the path, holding up an apronful of wee 
pussies as a token of welcome. It was many a day 
since Jack had sat down to so bountiful a meal as 
awaited him that evening, and Mr. Ellis said “it 
did him good to see the w.ay the "boy enjoyed his 
brown bread and berries.” 
“ Is this milk ?” he asked, as a creamy glassful 
was set before him. “ It tastes more like butter, 
New York milk is blue.”—“ I guess the pump is 
their best cow then,’ laughed the farmer, “ but go 
out with Harry, and see what our little Alderneys 
can do.” Jack accompanied his new friend to the 
yard and watched with wonder the streams of rich 
milk that fell foaming into the bright tin pails. 
“Are they milk all the ways through?” he 
asked, as he ventured to pat one of the mild-eyed 
kine, at which question Harry almost rolled on 
the ground with merriment. 
“ What a lot of canary birds, too ! ” he cried, as 
a brood of tiny, golden chickens hurried by, in the 
wake of a mother hen; “do they all sing ? ” and 
was greatly surprised to learn that these fluffy yel¬ 
low balls, were only baby fowls. 
But in some things Jack was very bright, and 
when the lamps were lighted, he entertained the 
family with funny stories of city life ; and keen, 
shrewd remarks, greatly to the amusement of Mr. 
Ellis, who delighted in drawing him out. Lilly 
was attracted to him at once, and the two soon be¬ 
came warm friends ; the little one trotting after 
him wherever he went, while Jack was always 
ready to carry the wee lady through the woods, or 
play games with her on the smooth lawn. It was 
a happy time for the little newsboy, and he grew 
fat and rosy, while Mrs. Ellis never had cause to 
regret his coming into her household. What pic¬ 
nics they had in the shady, green woods! what 
frolics in the hay-field 1 what fishing and swim¬ 
ming in the creek ! and what jolly rides behind old 
Peter I It seemed to Jack that the days fairly flew 
away, until at length, the last one had dawned, 
waxed and waned, and he sadly packed his little 
carpet-bag, to which Mrs. Ellis added a suit of 
clothes belonging to Harry, who himself brought a 
collection of fish-hooks, lines, and birds’ eggs, and 
other things dear to the boyish heart. May came 
with a plate of cakes and tarts of her own baking, 
and little Lilly toddled in with a great bunch of 
buttercups and daisies, for “poor Dicky in the 
hospital,” of whom she had heard many interest¬ 
ing tales.—“ Wonder if Mother Bridge will be glad 
to see me back,” said Jack to himself, as be tum¬ 
bled into bed, “ but I know she won’t give me as 
soft a pillow as this.” 
Regret, however’, could not keep such a hearty, 
tired boy awake, and he slept soundly, until aroused 
by a confused murmur of voices, and a sense of 
suffocation. He sprang up, and was startled by a 
lurid light, while the dread cry of “ fire ! fire 1 ” 
fell upon his ears. He hurried on his clothes, and 
then groped his way through clouds of dense, 
black smoke, down to the ground floor, and out 
upon the lawn. Here he found the family and 
neighbors running hither and thither in mad con¬ 
fusion, while the flames shot heavenward, and the 
house seemed to wither beneath their fiery tongues. 
“Are all safe?” asked Jack of Harry.—“Yes, 
mother and May are just over there.”—“ But where 
is Lilly ?” 
At that moment a loud cry arose, and looking 
around, Jaek saw every eye fixed upon an upper 
window, where now appeared a golden head, while 
two white arras were outstretched beseechingly, 
and a piteous voice cried, “Mamma, mamma!” 
It was too evident that in the confusion and 
fright Lilly had been left asleep in her crib, each 
parent believing her with the other. With a groan, 
Mrs. Ellis darted forward, but was held back by 
many hands, as every instant the roof was expected 
to fall. “ A ladder ! a ladder ! ” was the cry, and 
several started in search of one. — “ They will be 
too late ! ” exclaimed Jack, and throwing a blanket 
over his head, he boldly dashed into the building. 
It seemed ages to the spectators befo'’e the news¬ 
boy succeeded in reaching Lilly’s side, but once 
there, he appeared to know just what to do. He 
had too often followed the engines, and w'atched 
the brave firemen, to be at a loss in such an emer¬ 
gency. Bulling the sheets from the bed, he tore 
them into strips, knotted them quickly and se¬ 
curely togther, and then tied one end around the 
little girl’s w’aist. 
“Now be ready,”he shouted, as lifting the child 
to the narrow ledge, he began gently to lower her 
towards the ground.—“Oh! Jack, I’se afraid,” 
cried Lilly, “you come too.”—“Yes, darling, pres¬ 
ently,” but just as the little one was clasped in 
loving arms, a loud crash sounded on the night air, 
a rush of flame and smoke obscured the scene— 
the roof had fallen, and the young hero, where 
was he ? Not dead, fortunately not dead, though 
many thought him so; when aladder being brought, 
the men ascended and carried down the sense¬ 
less and blackened form of the poor little “ Bridge 
Mouse,” for although stunned, he was not crashed 
by the falling timbers, and he had fallen across the 
window, where a little air saved him from suffoca¬ 
tion. But he was badly injured, and for weeks he 
lay weak and helpless in a neighbor’s house, care¬ 
fully tended by Mrs. Ellis and May, who could not 
do too much for the preserver of their darling Lilly. 
And at last, slowly and painfully, he came back to 
life and strength ; but when he walked out for the 
first time, he found the leaves turning to russet 
and gold on the trees, and the frame-work of a new 
house rising on the charred site of the old one. 
“Mother Bridge will think that I have deserted 
her,” he; said with a little sigh, “ but I shall soon be 
able to go back now.”—“Not if you prefer to re¬ 
main,” said Mr. Ellis, “ we would like to keep you 
with us, and the home you have saved from deso¬ 
lation, is your’s, if you choose to stay, for w'e feel 
we can never repay you.”—“ Oh! thank you sir,” 
cried Jack, while a radiant smile of delight flit¬ 
ted over his face. It was, however, succeeded 
by a cloud, as he hesitated, and then said slowly, 
and with an evident effort, “But I couldn’t leave 
poor Dick. I am all he has in the world, and he 
needs some one to fight for him, now he’s lame, 
and to cheer him up. I’d love to stay, but I must 
go back to New York and Dick.” Tears however 
filled his eyes, and Mr. Ellis, too, had to wipe his 
spectacles, and turn aside to hide his emotion, for 
he fully appreciated the boy’s sacrifice for his af¬ 
flicted brother. So Jack returned to the City, but 
not to his old life, or his bedroom under the Bridge. 
Mr. Ellis secured him a position in a store, that 
placed him in comparative comfort, while he and 
Dicky have a standing invitation to spend every 
summer at Ellis farm, where Mrs. Ellis is now al¬ 
ways ready to receive any number of city waifs. 
She says you can never tell when you may enter¬ 
tain an angel unawares. 
The Doctor’s Talks. 
One of my young friends finds a great many 
shells of fresh-water mussels or clams, and wishes 
me to tell something about these and other shells. 
Fig. 1.— A FKESn-W'ATER MUSSEL. 
I have never seriously taken up the study of shells. 
I once heard Agassiz say that one “ could learn no 
more about the auimals from studying their shells 
than he could about people from a collection of 
their cast-oif great coats.” The great naturalist 
had no very high opinion of those who made col¬ 
lections of shells merely because they were rare 
and valued their specimens according to the prices 
they paid for them. 
THE FEESn-WATER MUSSELS. 
These, also called clams, are common in rivers, 
ponds, and lakes, and their empty shells are fre¬ 
quently to be found along the shore. You know 
that the shells of snails are all in one pieee, while 
the shell of the mussel is in two parts, or valves, 
hinged together at one edge; This difierence in 
the shells is accompanied by as great a difference 
in the animals that they cover. Shells like those 
of the snail, are called univalves, while those of the 
Fig. 2.— THE MUSSEL ANIMAL. 
mussels, being in two pieces, are called bivalves. 
In the snail the animal has a prominent head, but 
in the mussel the head is so indistinct that ic can 
hardly be made out, and the animals are said to be 
acephalous, or headless. If you have a live mus¬ 
sel, or a pair of shells still held together, you find 
that they are united by a hinge of a dark-brown 
substance that is elastic, and when dry is hard and 
brittle. This hinge is barely shown in figure 1. 
The light spot at the left of the hinge is c<alled the 
“ beak ” {unibonc). This was the starting point in 
the growth of the shell, but later it often gets 
worn away. The lines upon the shell show the 
different periods of growth ; they all start from 
