1884.] 
AMERIOAl^ AGEIOULTUEIST. 
561 
other -white markings on the under parts. This 
animal is only found among rocks over which it 
runs with great agility, and climbs steep precipices 
with the ease of a monkey. The Kock Kangaroo 
hides among the crags during the day, and as it 
rarely ventures out save at night it is rarely met 
with, except by hunters, who seek it in its I’ocky 
hiding places, for the sake of its flesh, which is 
highly esteemed. Its fur, though long, is harsh to 
the touch, and is not much valued. The Tree 
Kangaroo is a native of New Guinea. Its fur is 
black, and resembles that of the black bear. This 
animal climbs on trees, and plays among their 
branches with all the agilitj' of a squirrel, and is 
said to look singularly out of place in hopping 
about in the branches of the tall forest trees. 
Each of the enclosures represents a word, all four 
of which, when written in the order given, one 
over the other, will read the same across and down. 
Wing Foo’s Christmas Tree. 
AGNES CABR SAGE. 
“Pig-tail! and almond eye! catch a Chinee on 
the fly ! ” sang, or rather roared a party of rough 
lads, who, armed with sticks and stones, came 
rushing pell-mell down the street, in pursuit of a 
terrified, overgrown Chinaman, who, with his 
shabby black gown fluttering in the cold wind, and 
his queer little flat hatdancing upand down likean 
animated pan-cake upon his head, was making 
wild leaps over the frosty pavement in his effort to 
escape; suddenly his foot struck on a glare of ice, 
he slipped, measured his length upon the sidewalk, 
and in an instant his tormentors were around him. 
“ Now then, Charlie, we have you,” cried one. 
“ No more washee, washee for you.”—“ We won’t 
have such pussy-cat heathen walking round the 
streets at Christmas,” added another, at which the 
rest all laughed and shouted, “No more we 
won’t! let’s cut off his pig-tail.”—At this the 
Mongolian’s eyes began to roU wildly, and he 
clasped his hands tightly over the little black 
braid of hair, wound in a snug coil on the top of 
his head, while he feebly gasped, “ No, no, bad 
Melican hoys, no cuttee pick-tail.” To lose his 
queue, is an irretrievable disgrace to a Chinaman, 
and without it he can never return to his own 
country. But these cruel young street Arabs were 
relentless in their sport, and after making fun of 
the poor laundryman to their heart’s content, the 
one who appeared to he the leader of the band, drew 
forth a knife, and in spite of his victim’s piteous 
squeaks, was about to put his threat into execu¬ 
tion, when round the comer, and dashing into their 
midst, came a sturdy, bright-eyed news-boy, who, 
regardless of the evening papers that flew from he • 
neath his arm, snatched the knife from the young 
rough’s hand, exclaiming indignantly : “ Aren’t 
you ashamed of yourselves you mean cowards? 
to attack a poor creature like that! Why don’t 
you take a man of your own size?”—“See here, 
Jim Connel, we won’t have you spoiling our fun,” 
spoke up the leader, “ so just hand back that knife, 
and mind your own business.” — “ I won’t, and you 
shan’t hurt the John Chinaman either.”—“Then 
look out for yourself,” and stones and sticks began 
to whistle through the air, while the whole mob 
fell upon him, and it would have gone hard with 
him, if a policeman had not suddenly and unex¬ 
pectedly appeared upon the scene. With a cry of 
“ the cops I the cops! ” the besieging party beat a 
hasty retreat, leaving the Chinaman rubbing his 
bruised head, and gazing ruefully upon his pro¬ 
tector, who, at the last moment, had been struck 
by a flying missile, and fallen upon the pavement. 
“Oh! he gettee hurtee ! poor good Melican boy 
gettee hurtee,” moaned the Mongolian, while the 
policeman laid a heavy hand on the boy’s shoulder, 
saying roughly, but kindly, “ see here, my little 
man, what is the matter?”—“ Nothing,” replied 
Jim sturdily, “ only a stone hit my leg, it will be 
all right in a minute.” But in attempting to rise, 
he turned deathly pale, and sank back, almost faint¬ 
ing away.—“ Broken, I am afraid,” remarked the 
policeman: “there, don’t try to move, and we’ll 
carry you home, or to the hospital, whichever you 
like.”—“Home, home to granny’s,” said Jim, 
“ but oh ! my papers 1 they are all spoiled ! ” And 
sure enough, they were sadly torn and trampled, 
nothing but scraps remaining, which, however, the 
Chinaman was gathering up with the most assidu¬ 
ous care.—“ Wing Eoo so solly, so velly solly,” he 
stammered in his Pigeon English, as he piled up 
the crumpled bits by the boy’s side.—“Never 
mind, Charlie,” said Jim, cheerfully, though he had 
to bite his lips hard to keep from crying. “ It was 
a mean trick they were playing on you, and I’d do 
as much again.”—“You’re a brave chap, and a 
good one,” said the protector of the peace, “and 
those young rascals ought to have six months on 
the ‘Island ’ for this ; but here comes the ambu¬ 
lance, and we’ll have you home in no time.” 
It was a sad little procession that followed the 
ominous black coach to the poor but neat tenement 
where Jim lived with his grandmother and younger 
Bister; for many of his boyfriends had gathered 
round the scene of the conflict, and followed in 
the wake of the ambulance. Wing Eoo, being chief 
mourner, with his yellow features expressive of 
the deepest despair.—“ Oh ! me poor b’y! me 
poor b’y 1 ” wailed the old Irish grandmother, as 
Jim was carried in. “ Sure, and its the sorry home 
coming ye have this day, and aU for a miserable 
haythen, too,” while pretty little Nora hid her face 
in her apron, and sobbed as though her heart would 
break. In fact, Jim was the gayest of the party, 
and tried hard to joke and smile, though his face 
was white, and he gave a long sigh of relief as 
they laid him on his little bed. A doctor was 
quickly summoned, who set the broken limb, as¬ 
suring him that it would be all right in time, though 
he would have to lie quiet for several weeks, at 
which he looked very sober, and Nora exclaimed, 
“ Oh ! then he will lose aU the Christmas fun ! ”— 
“I am afraid he will, unless it comes to him,” said 
Dr. HoUis, nodding good night, and turning to 
descend the stairs. At the bottom he stum¬ 
bled over something curled up in a heap, and a 
piteous voice asked, “ Can medicine man make 
good boy all rightee again ? ”—“ Hallo ! who is 
this ? ” cried the doctor. “ Ah ! the Chinaman, I 
suppose, who caused all the trouble. Yes, Jim 
will be himself in time, if the bones knit well. He 
has been asking for you.”—“Me goee see him,” 
and ascending the stairs. Wing Eoo knockedal, the 
door, and was admitted by Nora, although rather 
reluctantly, while the grandmother’s cap border 
quivered angrily. But Jim called, “ come in Wing 
Eoo, or whatever your name is, and see that I am 
not quite killed after all.”—With cautious step 
the poor fello-'y approached the bed, whispering. 
“Is good boy velly sick ? ”—“ No, but the stone 
knocked my Christmas in the head, and I mind 
that more than my leg, though old saw-bones has 
made it ache bad enough,dear knows, for to-morrow 
is Christmas eve, when they are to have the festi¬ 
val in the Mission School, and I wanted to see the 
Christmas-tree so much—but now I can’t,” and 
tears filled the boy’s brown eyes as he thought of 
the beautiful evergreen, decked with lights and 
glittering balls, and of the carols he so delighted 
in singing. 
Wing Eoo’s scanty English was not sufficient to 
express his feelings, but he nodded and grunted, 
and looked so wretched, that even Mrs. Connel’s 
heart softened towards him, and she muttered 
under her breath, “Poor haythen, he can’t help 
looking like a rat I suppose, and Jim did right not 
to let him be murthered,” for she had much mere 
of the brogue than her grandchildren, while blue¬ 
eyed Nora smiled sweetly upon him, and held a 
candle to light the way, as he shuffied down the 
dark stairs, and then he sadly wended his way to 
his home in Mott Street. 
It was Christmas eve, cold, clear, and frosty; 
the streets redolent of the sweet, spicy odor of 
pine and hemlock, and gay with a happy, bustling 
throng; the holiday gladness showing in every 
face, while above, like a thousand Christmas 
tapers, the quiet stars twinkled and gleamed as 
though they knew it was the eve of the Nativity. 
But the joy of the happy Holy season seemed not 
to have reached the little tenement in Baxter 
street, although womanly Nora had done her best 
to make it look bright and “Christmassy,” as she 
said, by polishing the fm-niture until it shone, 
building up a roaring fire, and hanging a bunch 
of holly, gay with scarlet berries, over the mantel. 
The grandmother’s wrinkled face wore a troubled 
look as she prepared some toast and tea for the in¬ 
valid, and Jim was restles.s and feverish, for all day 
long his busy brain had been trying to plan how 
they should live during the coming month, for he 
well knew that the loss of his earnings would be a 
serious matter in the little household.—“The boys 
will soon be gathering now in the big school¬ 
room,” he remarked, breaking the silence that had 
fallen upon the trio. “ I wonder if they will miss 
my voice in the carols.”—“Of course they will,” 
said Nora, “ for did not Mr. Goodman say yours 
was the clearest and sweetest of them all.”—“Sure 
ye sing like a thrush,” said the old grandmother, 
“ and it’s the rare pity that ye won’t be there; but 
as ye can’t, why faith 1 think no more about it, me 
darlint, but jest ate this bit of toast and take a cup 
of tay. It will cheer ye up loikes.” Thus urged, 
Jim tried to eat his supper, but his heart seemed to 
be in his throat, and every mouthful choked him, 
as he thought of the merry-making in which he 
should have no share, until at last, worn out with 
pain and disappointment, he broke down complete¬ 
ly, and pushing away his plate, sobbed, “ Oh! 
granny, I can’t, I can’t, I thought this was going 
to be such a lovely Christmas, and now it’s the 
most miserable one I ever knew.” — It was so 
strange to see light-hearted Jim in tears, that Nora 
cried too from sympathy, and the old lady wrung 
her hands, exclaiming, “ Oh! whatever shall I 
do? whatever shall I do?” when, as though in 
answer to her question, there came a gentle knock¬ 
ing at the door, and she opened it to see standing 
on the threshold no other than Wing Eoo, dressed 
in holiday attire, his funny little black eyes twink¬ 
ling like two jet beads, his slit of a mouth stretch¬ 
ed from ear to ear, and bearing in his hands a square 
box covered with red paper, sprinkled with Chinese 
hieroglyphics, in which was planted an evergreen 
bush, hung with the most curious medley ever 
gathered together on one small Christmas tree. 
“MeUy Klissmas !” he said, with a low bow. 
“ Goot Melican boy 'save Wing Eoo’s pick-tail. 
Wing Eoo bling boy Klissmas tree,” and in he 
marched, and set his gift with much pride and 
ostentation on the little stand by the newsboy’s 
couch.—“Oh ! Wing Eoo ! how funny and how jolly 
of you!” cried Jim, sitting bolt upright, while smiles 
chased the tears from his face. Nora burst into peals 
of laughter, and the Mongolian nodded and grinned 
