f lu li’Mcln*. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
WINTER DAYS.—No. I. 
A JOURNEY. 
You walk to the depot in the early morning, and 
the frosty air stirs your pulses to a quicker life. As 
you go down the village 6trect the sun rises from 
behind the eastern hills, sending Ins golden arrows 
quivering into the valley. As you cross the river 
bridge your companion speaks of the shadow of 
death in the house yonder, where He has given His 
beloved sleep after a weary illness. You look down 
where the water is gliding under its thin coating of 
ice, and think of a scrap from an old Gorman poet; 
“ And the sunshine bright a« ever, 
Shines ot) ruin, rock ami river." 
Yes, though this family sit in the shadow to-day, 
the sun is shining — here and Beyond. 
But the train is ready, the hasty “good-byes” are 
said, and your face is homeward. As the train moves 
slowly out you turn with a sudden movement, and 
glance back at tbe group of watching friends, think¬ 
ing it is possible this good-bye “may be for years, 
and may be forever.” 
You are whirled along with your scores of com¬ 
panions— among whom is the usual variety, to the 
proof of the old saying, “ it takes all sorts of people 
to make up a world.” Belriud yon arc seated a gen¬ 
tleman and lady with two small “lords of creation,” 
who are fleshy and funny, and well supplied with 
molasses candy. They satisfy the “ inuer man ” and 
bedaub the outer; while one offers the conductor a 
bite the other applies it to your fur collar nud new 
veil. Yet yon can call the urchins nothing but 
suxxl, so covered are they with molasses. 
You are whirled along beside the river, that 
now flows under the ice, and now flashes out in free¬ 
dom. Rising from either side against the clear blue 
of the sky are the wood-crowned hills wrapped round 
with the gleaming snow under which lie the germs 
of the grass and grain that shall robe them in beauty 
when the spring shall come. So in the hearts of 
most of tis, under the icy bands uf habit, or pride, or 
worldliness, lie some dormant, germs of truth and 
nobleness. It may be a word or a look that shall 
touch them to life; or it may be a subtle something 
you cannot dcline, but which you fancy to be the 
dowu-falling answer to some angel’s prayer; and it 
may be these holy germs may never awaken here — 
never till tbe worldliness is washed away by the 
waters of death, and they are quickened by the Sun 
of Righteousness. 
You always liked the hills; there seems a friendli¬ 
ness about them as they reach np from you to 
Heaven -catching the earliest morning smiles of 
the sun and its evening benediction; and as the lat¬ 
ter lingers about them sometimes you fancy them 
looking through the gates of sunset to those other 
—beautiful hills 
That rise from the Evergreen Shore. 
And you think of some who used to walk with 
you here who have passed from life’s rugged hills 
through tlie Golden Gates, 
“Where the weary shall toil no mure.” 
You watch the comers and goers ul each little 
station — the hand-shakings of good-bye and wel¬ 
come, and catch a glimpse now and then of a pretty 
tableau of children at a door or window, and now 
stand in the depot of the bustling city. When even¬ 
ing comes you start again, out from the glare of the 
city into the quiet country, where you sec the 
twinkle of home light* here and there; and above 
are the watching stars that shine for all and shine 
forever; and far beyond them lies 
“-that Loveland 
Whore falls no eventide.” 
Ai.iqua. 
THE SPLUGEN. 
Tite ride over tbe Splugcn is of tlie most exciting 
na t ure _ awfully wild. It is a miracle bow the road 
was ever constructed, the zig-zags seem to be com¬ 
ing to an end; whilst to ride on a road “ like a shelf 
on a well" as it were) with mountains seven or eight 
thousand feet high one side, and, ou the other, 
within a foot of the carriage wheels, a precipice and 
the roaring torrent a thousand feet below, is a little 
exciting, I assure you. At one place we met a dili¬ 
gence that pulled to the- mountain side for us to 
pass. I shall never forget it. At that moment we 
were only three inches from eternity. I sprang up 
and called to the driver, as I sat on the side next to 
the precipice, but he only smiled at my fear. 
But to the journey of the diligence. After a ride 
of three or four hours we arrived at the Splugen, 
had a little breakfast at the hotel, and were lucky iu 
finding there a voiture which was returning to Cnmpo 
Dolcino, and engaged it, agreeing to start at one in 
the afternoon. On leaving Splugen we crossed the 
valley, and commenced to wind up the zig-zags. 
After ascending for some time, what a view meets 
the eye on turning round! Splugen lies below like 
a map; the chalets seem little larger than toy-houses, 
and as though a child’s hand had placed them here 
and there. From our point of view the whole of 
Splugen might be put upon a dining-room tabic; 
the houses appear little larger than bird cages. We 
are now nearing the summit of the pass,— 6,517 feet, 
and 3,569 feet below tlie summit of the precipitous 
Tarnbohorn or Schechorn, 10,066 feet, ou our left, 
close to us; while, as far as the eye can reach in all 
directions for miles distant, lie vast fields of snow. 
What a strange sight is herd All below is sum¬ 
mer; with us bleak winter reigns. The roaring 
cataract is foaming on its way with fearful velocity, 
caused by tlie melting of the snow around, above 
and far beneath us, and yet it feels as solid as if it 
were freezing. Innumerable waterfalls, starting to 
life midway between us and Splugcn, arc dashing 
down into the depths below, a sight which I should 
not have thought possible. The whole of the sum¬ 
mit of the Alps now in sight, stand out sharp and 
clear against the blue sky. It is fortunate we can¬ 
not go faster than a slow walk, giving us time to 
view this wonderful scenery. Large posts stand, or 
rather lean, out of the snow, as they arc nearly 
all weighed down aud broken, which indicates to 
the men who cut the road und to the sleigh drivers 
the zig-zags. The track liere is cut through the 
snow, and the immense walls of it rise perpendicu¬ 
larly ou both eides of the carriage, like iiicces of 
masonry, at least forty feet high; in some parts 
they overhang and seem to threaten destruction to 
us.— Bradbury's “ Three Week's from Home." 
-»- 
Tiif. Scenery op the Upper Missouri,— A trav¬ 
eler on the Upper Missouri describes the scenery 
between Arrow and Eagle Rivers as very novel and 
picturesque at many points. About three miles 
above Arrow River are the “ Grand Tableaux,” 
which resemble a group of giant statuary. One 
mammoth figure is named Daniel Webster. Three 
miles above is “Castle Rock,” which presents u 
scene superior, it is said, to anything on the Hud¬ 
son or Rhine. 
HUNTING- GIRAFFES IN AFRICA 
Our engraving illustrates a kind of sport -.illicit i c 
rare indeed, and must be peculiarly excitiu”. The 
giraffe is a native of the country lying between 
Egypt and Ethiopia. It is found now and then in 
Abyssinia, and very rarely iu Southern Africa; and 
is hunted and killed by the natives for the sake of it.-; 
large and beautiful skin, as well as for the marrow of 
its bones, which is considered by them an exquisite 
dainty. Its body has considerable resemblance to 
that of the camel, while the color of its skin is of 
an impure or yellowish white, spotted with patches 
of fawn color, something like the leopard, and this 
double resemblance accounts for another name the 
giraffe bears — camelopard. A striking peculiarity 
of the animal is the great apparent height of its 
foreparts, which rise very suddenly from the shoul¬ 
ders. A full-grown giraffe will measure from fifteen 
to seventeen feet from the ground to the top of the 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
WHAT PAPER SHALL WE TAKE? 
At this season of the year, when our rural popu 
lation have leisure to read, and papers are to be 
renewed, the question to be decided in every house¬ 
hold is—What paper shall we take? When our task 
is done, or the day is stormy, it is a real pleasure to 
resort to a paper or book to while away tlie time. 
To me, reading is true retirement—the most de 
lightful of recreations. If there is any spot iu the 
world where I take real comfort, solid satisfaction, 
it is in perusing a good paper or book. But I am 
no book-worm, or “continued story” man, for I 
have too many irons in the tire to indulge in these 
dissipations. Nevertheless, 1 do love a good paper 
or book—the cheapest pleasures, the most agree¬ 
able visitors I have. 
A paper, we may say, is a sort of album, filled 
with pen portraits uf what is daily taking place, 
or photographs of what is weekly Occurring in tbe 
world; and as it is to be seen by our children, as 
well as ourselves, it should contain the most pleas¬ 
ing pictures to be obtained, and add to the cheer¬ 
fulness and hopefulness, as well as tend to the 
mental and moral improvement, of the entire house¬ 
hold. Now, just see the piles of refuse that are 
daily placed under the public eye by means of the 
papers. I sometimes think many editors have mis¬ 
taken their calling. Does an elopement or divorce 
case occur, ’tie immediately hashed up, for the pub¬ 
lic good. Does a murder, a suicide, or seduction 
ease take place, a reporter is forthwith sent to 
obtain all the particulars, and the people are hor¬ 
rified aud demoralized by the frightful aud disgust¬ 
ing tale. 
I had rather hear of the rise than the fall of any 
man, and as for the ten thousand accidents, mur¬ 
ders, suicides, &c\, why not imagine that so many 
will happen every year, and let it go at that? A 
man was lately asked to take a good weekly agri¬ 
cultural family paper, but refused oil tlie ground 
that he knew all about farming he wished to know, 
and as for the rest it was not to his taste! That is 
to 6ay, there was nothing in it to gratify a morbid 
appetite, created by reading the shocking particu¬ 
lars that fill many sheets of the day. 
North Chill, N. Y., Jan., 18(58. n. k. p. 
- ^ ♦ n » - 
CLOCK-WORK. 
The two most curious examples of clock-work— 
apart from intricacy—are the clock-lock and the 
clock-bed. The former, made by a locksmith of 
Frankfort in 1859, consisted of a strong box with¬ 
out any keyhole at all, and which even its owner 
could not open. Inside was a clock-work, the hand 
of which, when the box was open, the owner placed 
at the hour and minute when he again wanted to 
have access to the interior of the box. Thu works 
began to move as soon as the lid was shut, and time 
alone was the key. 
The clock-bed was the invention of a Bohemian, 
iu 1858, and was so constructed that a pressure upon 
it caused a soft and geutle air of Auber’s to be 
played, which continued long enough to lull to 
sleep the most wakeful. At the head was a clock, 
the hand of which being placed at the hour that 
the sleeper wished to rise, when the time arrived 
the bed played a march of Spontoui’s (spontane¬ 
ously) with drums aud cymbals, enough to raise 
tils Seven Sleepers. 
-- 
Getting Measured for Boots or Shoes.— If you 
want a shoe to fit you comfortably, next time you 
are measured for a pair, stand upon a piece of paper, 
aud get the shoemaker to trace with a pencil the 
outline of each foot, we say, because two feet arc 
ucver alike in size and shape though they belong to 
the same person. They are more than right and 
left—they are unlike. Don't suppose that you can 
be measured for a pair by the most careful measure¬ 
ment of ouc. Insist on having the outlines as well 
as the girth and length of each foot taken, and then, 
if the shoemaker is un honest man, lie wilt send 
home a pair of boots which, with their turned-in toes, 
will look unproruisiug when off, but when ouce on, 
will prove not only the most becoming, but the most 
comfortable you ever wore. 
head ; whereas, the posterior extremity will not ex¬ 
ceed nine feet iu height. The head bears quite a 
resemblance to that of the horse, save that Jt is 
armed by two horns about n foot in length; and 
t hese, being covered entirely by the skin. look much 
like an additional pair of cars. The giraffe is a mild, 
timid and harmless animal; chooses dense forests 
for its roaming places, and feeds on the leaves aud 
shoots of trees. 
Mr. Baker, tite English traveler in Africa, speaks 
frequently of his giraffe hunts. The speed these 
animals can acquire with their shuffling gait seems 
almost incredible. They will outstrip even a fleet 
horse. “On one occasion,” (says Mr. Baker,) “I 
rode for hours, at the top of my horse’s speed, after 
a group of several of these animals, without being 
able to get close enough to them for a shot. Carry¬ 
ing their heads high, they did not seem to be strain- 
THE ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS. 
The progress of the eruption »f Mount Vesuvius, 
now taking place, is thus described in a Naples let¬ 
ter, dated the 31st nit.: 
For one or two days it has been enveloped iu such 
thick clouds that all we have witnessed from a dis¬ 
tance has been at intervals the lighting up of the 
dense mass with a lurid red color. Yesterday, how¬ 
ever, a bitter northeast wind swept ami cleared tlie 
cloud capped summit, revealing a scene Of extraordi¬ 
nary magnificence. Not withstanding the stormy aud 
rainy state of the weather, many parties have ascend¬ 
ed this week, as has been evident from the torches 
glittering like glow-worms on the rugged side of 
Vesuvius, and I borrow from the report of friends 
who ascended last night some observations as to its 
actual state. Starting from Naples at about eight 
o’clock, they got up to the Hermitage at lialf- 
pu.it ten, well eoukod with the rain, and were by 
no means displeased to find an abundant “spread” 
laid out for another party of more provident “ Brit¬ 
ishers.” Imagine a midnight picnic on Vesuvius, 
with pigeon pic and champagne, ad libitum. Still 
the rain descended in torrents, and it was not until 
after two o’clock in the morning that in sheer des¬ 
peration they emerged from their hospitable shelter, 
and commenced the heavy ascent of the grand cone. 
Yet ail our sufferings and fatigue, say they, were 
well repaid by tlie grandeur of the spectacle. To 
the crater itself we could not reach, but as near to 
it as was safe we sat down on a monticdlo of cinders 
and ivatehed the scene. 
.'sLivius shook and trembled at the efforts it was 
making; it panted and roared like some glgautic 
furnace; there was a sound, rapid and repeated, as 
of the discharge of a volley of musketry, and there 
rose to the heavens, full 1,000 fi t, a gorgeous mass 
of lava, stones, both great and small, and tine ashes. 
\Ve calculated the interval which elapsed before it 
fell at from live to ten seconds, varying in duration 
according to the violence of the eruptions, which 
took place almost every second. The larger stories 
—rocks they may be called—rolled at times down to 
tlm spot where we were seated, while the smaller 
ones were carried by the caprice of the wind iu vari¬ 
ous directions. Not far from us, in the direction of 
Ottnjano, rolled down a stream of liquid lava from 
forty to fifty feet in width, and ten or twelve feet in 
height. Like pebbles on n shingly beach agitated 
by a storm was the noise it made in its progress; 
the scoria* on the surface fell continually over, and 
thus, ever diminishing, yet ever increasing In pro¬ 
portions, the stream rolled steadily on and reached 
the bottom of the mountain. 
There were, however, last night, many streams, 
presenting the appearance of an inverted hand, so 
that the mountain ou each side seemed all ablaze. 
The lava is now coming down toward the Hermit¬ 
age. We can mark its red and sinuous course even 
from Naples; and there is a promise of greater splen¬ 
dor than any we have yet witnessed. We can hear, 
too, the thunders of Nature’s artillery, while each 
discharge is followed by a display which it is useless 
to attempt to describe. Different, yet scarcely less 
grand, arc tlie day effects. Volumes and volumes of 
dark smoke arc shot up perpendicularly into the 
air, and then falling and circling and rolling one 
over the other, file off" like heavy battalions towards 
Capri. The column of smoke is perceptible to the 
eye all across the sky, lingering horizontally until it 
derives a fresh impulse from each successive erup¬ 
tion. For eight days this brilliant spectacle has 
been exhibited with ever-increasing grandeur, and 
the probabilities are IhaL it will continue some time 
longer. Within twenty-four hours, the temperature 
has changed from a degree of heat inducing lassi¬ 
tude to a piercing cold. Every one is muffled close¬ 
ly up, but the bright sun above us will soon warm 
up the atmosphere. 
-- 
An elm tree was lately cut down iu Ohio, which is 
said to be 793 years old. If its age is rightly fixed, 
it dates from the year 1075, or only nine years after 
the Norman invasion of England; and it was 417 
years old when Columbus discovered our continent. 
Near Lake Otsego there stands, it is said, a tree 
known as tbe “Silent Fine,” which has the credit 
of being one thousand years old. 
--- 
Cotton socks next the skin, and woolen socks 
outside of them, are represented as sure to cure cold 
feet. At night the cotton socks will be quite dry, 
and the outside ones damp. 
ing their speed, bat managed somehow, with their 
enormous stride, to attain such swiftness that my 
horse, though doing his best, tugged after them in 
vain.” Though on this occasion our traveler did 
not succeed iu securing one of the animals he pur¬ 
sued, yet during hie stay in Africa he had the good 
fortune, upon several occasions, to kill giraffes, prin¬ 
cipally, however, by lying in wait for them near the 
pools or springs where they came at regular Intervals 
for driiiIt. Mr. Raker’s acc<>unt of bis Afrieau travels 
is exceedingly interesting, both from the peril and 
exciting adventure he met with, and also for tlie 
pleasant style in which the narrative is told. His 
travels have also a peculiar value, since Ills wife 
went with him as a companion, sharing all the disa¬ 
greeable difficulties and all tlie dangers incident to 
a journey through the wilds of Africa, where the 
country is as repelling as the people. 
NECROLOGY OF 1867. 
The year just closed has witnessed the death of 
many distinguished persons in various ranks of life. 
Liturature has lost N. P. Willis, Catharine M. Sedg¬ 
wick, Charles Anthon, Fitz Greene Ualleck, in this 
country; Alison, the historian, in England;, and 
Victor Cousin, iu France. 
Science lias lost Velpeau, the celebrated French 
surgeou; the English chemist Faraday; the astron¬ 
omers Ilosso and South ; and the American scientists 
Bache and Worthington Hooker. 
Among notable artists we record tbe deaths of 
Ingres in France, Stanfield in England, aud Buggies 
in this country. . 
Ponsard, the dramatist, Aehillo Fould and Laroche 
Jaqiielin arc lost to France; Maximilian and Queen 
Maria of Naples to the ranks of royalty 
The death of John A. Andrews leaves a void in the 
ranlts of American statesmen. 
Two cx-govcrnors of this State—Washington Hunt 
and John A. King—have died. Tlie law loses the 
names of J udge Scrugham and Chancellor Walworth; 
the stage, the names of Persiani and Ira Aldridge 
(Howlet), the negro tragedian, and the composer 
Pacini; the humorists, the name of Artemns Ward, 
tlie original abolitionists. Abby Folsom ; the church, 
Bishop Sonic, Dr. Krebs and Dr. Taylor; Yale Col¬ 
lege, the venerable Jeremiah Day. The name of 
Charles King is also to be added to the list. 
-• ♦»» - »»» »-- 
THE ALPINE HORN. 
The Alpine horn is an instrument made of the 
bark of a cherry tree, and, like a speaking trumpet, 
is used to convey sounds to'a great distance. I have 
heard that when tlie last rays of the sun gild tlie 
summit of the Alps, the shepherd who inhabits tbe 
highest peak of these mountains takes his horn and 
cries with a loud voice, “ Praised he the Lord.” As 
soon as the neighboring shepherds hear him, they 
leave their huts and repeat these words. The 
sounds are prolonged many minutes, while the 
echoes of the mountain and grottoes of the rocks 
repeat the name of God. Imagination cannot pic¬ 
ture anything more solemn or^ublime than such a 
scene. During the silence that succeeds, the shep¬ 
herds bend their knees and pray iu the open air, then 
repair to their huts to rest. The sunlight gilding 
the tops of these stupendous mountains upon which 
the.vault of heaven seems to rest, the magnificent 
scenery around, and tlie voices of the shepherds 
sounding from rock to rock the praise of tlie Al¬ 
mighty, till the mind of every traveler with enthu¬ 
siasm and awe. 
-•*■ « ♦« « ».- 
A BEAUTIFUL CUSTOM. 
In the mountains of Tyrol, it is the custom of the 
women and children to come out, when it is bed¬ 
time, aud sing their national songs until they hear 
their husbands, fathers and brothers answer them 
from the bilk or on their return home. On the 
shores of the Adriatic, such a custom prevails. 
There the wives of the fishermen come down about 
sunset aud sing a melody. After singing the first 
stanza, they listen awhile for the answering strain 
from off the water, and continue to sing and listen 
till the well-known voices come borne on the tide, 
telling that the loved ones are almost home. How 
sweet to the weary fisherman, as the shadows gather 
around him, must be the songs of the loved ones at 
homo, who sing to chcerhiin, and how they strengthen 
and tighten the bonds that bind together these hum¬ 
ble dwellings by the sea. Truly, it is among tlie 
lowly in this world that we find some of the most 
beautiful customs in practice. 
-- 
Winter in Siutzbkkuen.— No description can 
give au adequate idea of the intense rigor of the six- 
mouths' winter in Spitzbergeu. Stones truck with 
the noise ot thunder; in a crowded hut the breath 
of the occupants will fall in flakes of snow; wine 
aud spirits turn to !co; the snow bums like caustic; 
if Iron touches the skin it brings the flesh asvay 
with it; the soles of your stockings may bo burned 
off your feet before you feel the slightest warmth 
from the tire; liuen taken out of boiling water in¬ 
stantly stiffens to the consistency of a wooden 
board; and heated stones will not prevent the 
sheets of the bed from freezing. If these are the 
effects of the climate within an air-tight, lire-warmed, 
crowded hut, what must they be among the dark, 
storm-lashed mountain peaks outside? 
fUadiutj for the fjfltttttj. 
■Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
TALKS WITH OUR BOYS AND GIRLS. 
BY UNCLE HAUL. 
ABOUT A PORCUPINE. 
A good many years ago, before you were born, we 
attended spelling schools. Have they ever tried 
spelling down” in the schools you are now attend¬ 
ing? Wc really hope they have, fi, r there is much 
pleasure in tlie exercise, and a good deal of profit, 
besides. They had another way which was very 
pleasant, in the spelling schools wo used to go to. 
It was to “choose sides,” and see which side would 
miss the least number of words pronounced. We 
liked that, and always felt proud to have our side 
come out ahead. 
We remember one night, when two of tbe scholars 
had chosen sides, and wc were all—sixty or seventy 
of us—ranged along down the old school-room in 
two rows, facing each other. First a boy or girl on 
one side would spell a word; then one on t.lio oppo¬ 
site side would spell another,—and so on. We 
spelled a good many words that evening. Finally 
the word “hedgehog" was pronounced, and it 
happened to be Setti Green’s turn to spell. Now 
Seth was a pretty large boy, in fact we younger ones 
generally counted him among “ the blj boys," but 
lie wasn't the best speller in school. He was as 
clumsy as he was large, and made more blunders in 
class and everywhere else than we could tell you of 
in a whole evening. Being very bashful, he stam¬ 
mered somewhat in his speech, occasionally, and so 
he spelled “hedgehog,” after two or three attempts 
“he-# hedge, ho-g hog, hedgehog.” 
Wo are afraid the types cannot do the spelling with 
such a ludicrous awkwardness as he did, and really 
wirii you could have heard Skth, and then heard us 
all laugh and laughed with ns. You couldn’t have 
helped laughing any more than we could. It was a 
good many years after that when your Uncle Paul 
first buw a hedgehog, nr porcupine, (there isn’t 
much difference between the two,) but when he did 
lie at once thought of Seth’s odd manner of spelling 
the word, and laughed over it again. 
Last summer we were on the top of the famous 
Mount Washington. You know where it is, don’t 
you? Your Geography will tell you that it is in 
New Hampshire, aud is the highest peak east of the 
Rocky Mountains; at any rate tlie Geographies used 
to tell m so. And what curious auimal do you 
think we found away up there, where there is no¬ 
thing hut rocks and the two lonely looking houses 
in which persons who climb the mountain find shel¬ 
ter? A porcupine ! The poor little thing had wan¬ 
dered there from the valley below, amt seemed to 
have had a hard time of it, for nearly all the singular 
quills which a porcupine carries on its back, were 
gone, and it appeared rather tired by its long tramp 
upward. Tlie people who live ou the mountain 
during the summer, had found the wanderer a few 
days before, lurking about among the rocks, and 
caged it for a short time, but then restored it to 
liberty. It was apparently inclined, though, to keep 
“ up in the world,” and was making itself very much 
at homo. 
Wc wonder what has become of it now? Of 
course it couldn’t stay on the mountain until this 
time, because of the cold. The people all leave 
there about the middle of October, aiul through the 
long winter the two houses are left alone in the 
storms and bitter cold. So the porcupiue must 
have left the summit also, or perished. Poor wan¬ 
derer! It served to amuse a party of young ladies 
and gentlemen throughout nearly a whole forenoon. 
We were all weatherbound upon the mountain : the 
rain didn't seem to fall ,— it was all around u.s, and 
beat against the thick waffs of “Tip Top” (one of 
the houses) very drearily indeed. None of us could 
go out of doors, ancl pretty soon the young people 
called for amusement, as they were wearied of look¬ 
ing at the storm. Then the “quill driver” was 
brought in, and you ought to have seen the ladies 
jump iuto the chairs und on tables to get out of its 
way. But they needn't have been so much afraid of 
it, bocause the poor thing was too much frightened 
itself to harm any one. The day before an artist 
had taken its photograph, and a funny picture it 
made. To make It keep still while having its pic¬ 
ture taken, they gave it ether, which caused it to lie 
very quiet. 
While the young folks were amusing themselves 
with the odd looking animal, we were engaged in 
writing, but we couldn’t help thinking of Seth 
Green and his droll way of spelling hedgehog; and 
wo probably never Bhnll see a porcupine without 
thinking of him and his spelling, aud laughing over 
the recollection. 
-♦«»■»»*»- 
CIVILITY IS ALWAYS REWARDED. 
“ My young friend,” said a gentleman on horse¬ 
back one day to a lad who was standing near a well, 
“ will yon do me the favor to draw a pail of water for 
my horse, as I find it rather difficult to get off? ” 
Instead of giving a gruff' reply, as many a boy 
would do, the boy drew the water aud gave it to 
the horse. His manner was so pleasant and cheerful 
that the stranger, delighted with his spirit, asked his 
name and residence, and then, aftor thanking him, 
rode on. 
The good-natured lad thought uo more of this 
act of civility, until, some months later, he received 
a letter from the gentleman, offering him a clerkship 
in his store. The offer was accepted. The lad pros¬ 
pered ancl finally became the chief magistrate of a 
large city. 
Thus you see that a little act of civility to a 
stranger was the first round in the ladder by which 
that boy climbed to honor and wealth. Now I do 
not say that civility will always lead to such honor, 
hut I do *jay that it al ways raises its possessor in the 
opinion of others, and iu his own self-respect. Be 
civil, therefore, boys and girls. Civility is au orna¬ 
ment you should all possess. 
-- 
A Professor Axenfeld, of Russian origin, re¬ 
cently appointed Professor of Medical Pathology at 
the College of Medicine in Paris, said iu his inau¬ 
gural speech that the most glorious height to which 
a country could attain was when she received every 
man, no matter how poor, or of whatever blood or 
race he might be, and gave him full and fair oppor¬ 
tunities to work and achieve distinction without 
regard to birth or rank. 
-- 
A Lazy Boy makes a lazy man, just as a crooked 
sapling makes a crooked tree. Those who make 
our great and useful men were trained iu their boy¬ 
hood to he industrious. 
-♦<>»- 
Words, innocent and powerless as they arc as 
standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and 
evil they beeome in the bauds of one who knows 
how to combine them. 
VTTi 
