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Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MONTREAL AND ENVIRONS.—No. I. 
BY MB3. ANNA SI. WELLS. 
Better known as publisher than anthor is Mr. 
Jambs T. Fields of the celebrated firm of Ticknor 
<fc Fields, Boston. He has seen forty years, per¬ 
haps ; is a charming companion, frank, cordial, and 
a good talker,—one, evidently, whose philosophy is 
that cheerfulness and good humor are the best spice 
of life, and should be carried always. There is little 
of the studious air about him; he looks rather like 
a shrewd business man; yet he knows authors and 
their books as few other men do. Whittier, in his 
“ Tent on the Beach,” has thus happily woven him 
into rhyme: 
One, with his beard scarce silvered, bore 
A ready credence in his looks, 
A lettered magnate, lording o’er 
Am ever-widening realm of books. 
In him. brain-currents, near and for, 
Converged as in a Leyden jar; 
Th old, dead authors thronged him round about, 
And Elzevir's gray gboptB from leathern graves looked out. 
He knew each living pundit well, 
Could weigh the gifts of him or her, 
And well the market value tell 
Of poet and philosopher: 
But if he lost, the scenes behind, 
Somewhat of reverence vague and blind, 
Finding the actors human at the best, 
No readier lips than his the good he saw confessed. 
His boyhood fancies not outgrown, 
He loved himself the singer’s art; 
Tenderly, gently, by his own 
He knew and judged ati author’s heart. 
No Rbadamanthine brow of doom 
Bowed the dazed pedant from his room; 
And bards, whose name is legion, if denied 
Bore ofi' alike intact their verses and their pride. 
Pleasant it was to roam about 
The lettered world as he had done, 
And see the lords of song withont 
Their singing robes and garlands on. 
With Wordsworth paddle Rydal mere, 
Taste rugged Elliott’s lioraa-brewed beer, 
And with the ears of Rogers, at fourscore, [more. 
Hear Garrick’s buskiued tread and Walpole’s wit ouce 
A correspondent of the Standard recently wrote 
of N. P. Willis at some length, and in an allusion 
to the Home Journal oiiice, as it appeared when 
Willis and his long-time associate Geo. P. Morris 
were alive, thus spoke of the latter: 
“ There, at a desk near the window looking down 
upon the narrow Warren street, sat Geo. P. Morris, 
that venerable old chieftain of New Tork journalism, 
and sweet singer of songs for the people. A small 
statured, stout built, rather corpulent man latterly, 
with a very good-humored face, illuminated by a 
pair of 6uiall black eyes, which were always laugh¬ 
ing, and suffused with a glory as of claret and bur¬ 
gundy the best. This latter was merely an appearance 
however; for Morris was not addicted to wine-bib¬ 
bing, except to n very'moderate degree. His head 
was large — bald on the top, hut otherwise covered 
with a prolusion of gray hairs. And there he sat, 
with a stove-pipe hat on his head, a pair of silver 
spectacles on his nose, and as I said, a smile peren¬ 
nial on his good old face. He was the very beau 
ideal of an American country gentleman in the days 
of the Revolution.” 
The New York Custom House seems to be a sort 
of home for literary characters. Among those who 
nave desks ihere, are Richard Grant White, con¬ 
nected at one time with the Courier and Enquirer, 
and now an occasional contributor to the Galaxy; 
Chas. F. Briggs of the editorial staff of Putnam’s 
Monthly; Richard Henry Stoddard, pretty well 
known as a poet and writer of reviews; “Barky 
Gray,” whose “Matrimonial Infelicities" and other 
rather ephemeral contributions to the Home Jour¬ 
nal have been re-produced in book form; Herman 
Melville, author of that singularly fascinating ro¬ 
mance entitled “Typee,” and others of a similar 
character; and John Savage, one of the Irish Revo¬ 
lutionists of ’48, who, driven from his country, took 
up journalism in New York, and has been favorably 
received as a poet and dramatist. 
An article in a late number of Packard’s Monthly 
stated that the “ Mount Vernon Papers” contributed 
by Edward Everett to the New York Ledger, led 
to a warm intimacy between the author and Mr. 
Bonner. In contact with Mr. B. ’s sunny and genial 
nature his icy stateliness seemed to unbend; and 
in hfo personal correspondence he used to address 
him as “ My dear Robert.” 
Davies’ arithmetics net him §30,000 annually. A 
mathematician can cut a good figure ou that 
CHARACTERISTICS. 
Montreal is the great Metropolis of the Canadian 
Dominion. Situated very near the boundary line 
of what was known formerly as Canada West and 
Canada East, it draws most of the trade and wealth 
of both sections of country, and therefore wears, 
more than any other Canadian city, a busy, thriving 
aspect It also has many advantages for commerce, 
being at the head of ship navigation on the 8t. Law¬ 
rence, and connected by steamboat communication 
with the great lakes of the West. Its wharves are 
among the finest known, built of cut stone appar¬ 
ently to stand for centuries, aud giving great depth, 
of anchorage. 
Beside the advantage of location upon one of the 
noblest rivers in the world, it has splendid facilities 
by means of railroad communication. The Grand 
Trunk Railway here centers its thousand miles of 
gathered freight and travel. From a vast region it 
brings into Montreal business vitality and Increased 
resources. The direct contact with different sec¬ 
tions of the United States, where are energy and 
go-a-head-a-tiveness, by reason of this great chain 
of railroad connection, has done much to relieve 
the place from that half-dormant state in which a 
good portion of Canada still exists, and to infuse 
into it a new life. With its many advantages, and 
the immense resources from which it can draw, it 
should develop more rapidly than it ever has de¬ 
veloped yet. 
The city is laid out in the form of a parallelogram. 
Its streets are uniformly straight, and intersect each 
other at right angles, giving a beautiful appearance 
of regularity when viewed from an eminence. They 
are more narrow than thoae of American cities, (un 
less, indeed, I except Boston,) are well paved, and 
very cleanly kept. Nearly all the buildings are con¬ 
structed of the same material—cut limestone, quar¬ 
ried on the island upon which the city is located. It 
seems to stand the wear and tear of time equal to 
granite, and has a rich, massive appearance, scarce¬ 
ly inferior to marble. There is a new block on St-. 
Peter’s street, with a front of this material which 
ia finer than any marble front I now remember. 
That Montreal is not an American city is clearly 
proved by the absence of boot-blacks from the 
streets. Newsboys are not wanting, but Bven they 
are not American. They cry their papers in French. 
“ Aura vom k Herald ?” sounds very foreign to us, 
as a bright little fellow runs up with his bundle of 
news, and we wonder for a moment if we are still 
on our native Continent. 
THE NUNNERIES. 
As Montreal is half foreign, in its character, so is 
it half monastic. Under the shadows of two such 
institutions as the Black and the Gray Nunneries, 
Protestantism in a measure fades away. The Black 
Nunnery is a large, dark, stem-looking structure, 
enveloped in no little mystery, standing on the 
outskirts of the town. Years ago a book entitled 
“Maria Monk" ostensibly revealed some Becrets 
of its fortress-like walls, and excited intense feel¬ 
ing throughout the country. Visitors are seldom 
admitted therein. At times an inquisitive tourist 
gains an audience of the Lady Superior, and is 
shown through a portion of the establishment, but 
for the most part the place is a sealed book to out¬ 
siders. They who take the black veil are supposed 
never to come out again among their fellow men, 
and exactly what their life of seclusion may be is 
known to — whom? 
There is less of mystery about the Gray N anuery. 
It stands right in the city’s center,—an old, time¬ 
worn building, flanked by another of more modern 
date, ud! both inclosed by a high and massive wall. 
It is in reality a foundling hospital and an asylum for 
the indigent old. Pass into the grounds, through 
the iron gateway, and yon will see a score or more 
of decrepit old men sitting about, whose only home 
is here. In two or three rooms of the ancient build¬ 
ing, through which a meek-faced nun will conduct 
you, you will find perhapB twice as many more old 
women, each sitting by her comfortable cot, neat 
and tidy in dress, and those who are not too feeble 
for such light work engaged in making the little 
bead and other ornaments which the nuns keep for 
sale. One of the most skilifuL workers in beads is 
totally blind, but her sense of touch is so delicate 
that she distinguishes all the shades of color uner¬ 
ringly, and arranges her beads with rare taste. She 
threads her needle with her tongue. Another has 
attained the age of one hundred and four years, and 
is but a child again. 
In a room by themselves, and watched over by 
two of the younger nnns, are the little foundlings. 
These are mainly girls, between the ages of four 
and eight years, many of them wearing a patient, 
almost a sad look, as though they longed for the 
out-door pleasures accorded to most children, hut 
which, apparently, they seldom know. This is their 
school-room, or answers a similar purpose, and you 
will not see them elsewhere. Here they sit, ranged 
round three sides of the room, on low benches, each 
with a bit of sewing (some kind of patch-work,) in 
hand, and all enlivening their task by joining in a 
song in which one of the young nuns leads off. But 
you remark that there is no joy in the singing. It 
lacks spirit, and has none of the glad freshness of 
those youthful songs you are accustomed to hear at 
your Sabbath Schools. Will the poor little things 
grow up, and wear the simple garb of the gray nuns, 
and become kindly sisters of charity, and go through 
life without ever knowing any genuine childhood, 
or any maidenhood made holy by love ? You can¬ 
not help asking the question, mentally, as you stand 
and look over the group. Then you look at the 
figure in gray, who has led you hither, and note 
her placid countenance, a stranger, it would seem, 
to care and doubt, and think perhaps this nun-life 
has some charm to keep the woman scarcely older 
than the girl, and may be not so bad a thing, after ail. 
If you choose you will buy some one of the pretty 
ornaments which a pleasant nun stands ready to sell, 
and will then doubtless be shown into the only other 
part of the nunnery visitors are permitted to enter 
— the Chapel. It is a small, dingy place of worship, 
and looks as though the good sisters might have 
told their beads here for a century, at least. A few 
paintings are scattered about, aud here and there 
a nun kneels before a erueilix, and syllables her 
prayers. Wherever you meet these gray-garbed 
ones they are the 6amc,— quiet, mild-mannered, 
gliding about with noiseless step, answering your 
questions frankly, and,— what may surprise you 
considerably,—never smiling. What a life for a 
woman, without laughter and without love! Al¬ 
ways ministering to others, does the woman in gray 
let her owu heart forever go athirst? To all out¬ 
ward seeming she is strictly devotional, a very model, 
indeed, of womanly faith aud sacrifice. 
A. Drift. 
Open the window and let me in,” 
Sputters the petulant rain; 
I want to splash on the carpet, dear, 
And I can’t get through the pane.” 
Here I’ve been tapping outside to you;— 
Why don’t yon come if you’re there i 
Your scuttles are shut or I’d dash right in 
And stream down the attic stair. 
I’ve washed the windows. I’ve spattered the blinds, 
And that ia not half I have done 
I bounced on the steps and elde walks too, 
Till I made the good people run, 
I’ve sprinkled, the plant on your window-sill, 
So drooping and wan that looks; 
The dusty gutters, I've Ailed them up 
Till they How like ruuning brooks. 
I have been out in the country too, 
For there in glory am I; 
The meadows I've swelled, and watered the corn, 
And floated the fields of rye. 
‘ Out from the earth sweet odors I bring; 
I fill up the tubs at the spout; 
While, eager to dance in the pnddles I make, 
The bareheaded child runs oat. 
1 The puddles are sweet r,o hla naked feet 
When the ground is heated through; 
If only you’ll opeu the window, dear,' 
I’U make such a puddle for you.” 
[Our Young Folks. 
middle stable door and enter, I will not claim him. 
If he does, I will furnish you conclusive evidence 
that he was bred by me, but never sold —that he 
was stolen from me about the very time you say you 
purchased him. ” The traveler assented to the trial. 
The horse was hitched to the post proposed—stood 
a few minutes —the saddle aud bridle were taken 
oft’—he raised his head, pricked up his ears, looked 
up the street, then down the street, several times, 
then deliberately and slowly walked past the house 
and over the bars and to the stable door, as described, 
and with teeth and lip drew out the pin ana opened 
the door, and entered into ins old stall. We hardly 
need to add, he was recognized by the neighbors 
of his rightful owner, who fully attested to the facts 
stated by the claimant, and that the traveler lost his 
title to the horse. 
The fact that the horse has memory and sagacity 
in a wonderful degree, is proven in the incident 
which the above engraving illustrates. A gentle¬ 
man returning from a journey on horseback, to 
Oxford, Pa., last fall, met a stranger traveling in 
like mode, with whom he engaged in a desultory 
conversation. Thinking the stranger’s horse looked 
familiar, he remarked that the animal was probably 
one which had been stolen from him six years ago. 
To settle the matter, he made the following propo¬ 
sition: — “ When we arrive at my house, your horse 
shall be tied to the east post in front of my door—the 
horse I am on, to the west post. After standing a 
short time, the bridle of your horse shall be taken 
off, aud if re does not go to a pair of bars ou the 
west side of the house, pass over and go around to 
the east side of the barn and pull out a pin, open the 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, 
A CHILD’S MISSION. 
BY SUSIE V. STORMS. 
“Mamma,” little Mary said, as she climbed up 
into her mother’s lap, while the twilight shadows 
gathered in the corners of the room, “what is a 
1 mission ” ” 
“A ‘mission?’ her mother asked, somewhat at a 
loss to understand what her little girl meant. 
“ Yea, a 1 mission" answered Mary. You know, 
in that pretty story you read me this afternoon, it 
told about little Dot Penny's having a mission to 
do before she died. I want to know what it meant, 
but I can’t hardly understand it, myself. Please 
tell me.” 
“ The mission that little Dot, in the story, had 
to perform, was a work of good,” auswered Mary’s 
mother. “ You know that her parents were not liv¬ 
ing together when she was taken sick. Something 
had separated them, and they were like strangers to 
each other. When little Dot grew worsu, she want¬ 
ed her mother to send for the father she saw so sel¬ 
dom, but whom she loved so well. And at last, her 
mother sent for him, aud he came. And there on 
her death-bed Dot made her parents promise to for¬ 
give and forget, all the trouble and disagreement of 
the years that had gone, and liye together In peace. 
While the shadows of death gathered over her face, 
they joined hands and promised never to let any¬ 
thing come between them. That was the mission 
of her life,—to bring those two divided lives and 
hearts together again. It was a mission of good; a 
work that God blessed with success )o you under¬ 
stand what was meant by Dot’s ‘mission’ now?” 
“Yes,” Mary answered thoughtfully. “Does 
every one have a mission?" 
“ Every one can do deeds that will be for good or 
evil. If we always work for good, our lives will be 
a mission of good; but if we work for evil, our lives 
will be a mission of evil and wrong. Our life-work 
is our mission.” 
“1 wonder what my mission will be?” Mary 
said, as she looked out into the dusky shadows. 
“ It will be what you make it," her mother an¬ 
swered. “ If you always work on the side of right 
and truth, your mission in life will not be a bad one. 
We have the power in our own hands to make or 
mar our characters, and if onr characters are high 
and noble, our life-mission will be a constant work 
of noble influences on those around us, aud a good 
example which those who see may follow.” 
“But does every one have a chance to do such a 
good work as little Dot did ?" Mary asked. “ I 
mean, you know, do we all have a chance to per¬ 
form something that will make others as happy as 
her mission caused her parents to be 
“We may not have the privilege of bringing two 
lives together from darkness into light, as she did, 
but we may make those arouud ns, with whom we 
are associated, happier and better. If our lives are 
always on the side of right and duty, and we walk 
right onward in the path Goo has marked out for 
os to follow, we shall show to the world that we 
are walking in a better way than the one that leads 
into temptation, and struggles, and sinful wander¬ 
ings to the right and to the left. And some one 
may see ns going Bteadily on, and take heart and 
follow in onr footsteps. If we are the means of 
leading even one poor wanderer into better ways, 
should we not feel that we were the instruments, 
in God’s hands, of effecting the change in that life 
and character ? That would be a noble mission. 
It would be one to be proud of. All may not have 
even that privilege given them; bat every one may 
show by the example they set, that there are nobler 
heights in life which may be attained, if they are 
only striven for. You can give kindly words to 
those who stand in need; and though your life may 
be humble and lowly, your mission will not be a 
fruitless one. Do not forget the words we read 
yesterday: 
Go and toil in any vineyard ; 
Do not fear to do or dare; 
If yon want a field of labor. 
You can find it anywhere ! 
You can visit the afflicted; 
O’er the erring you can weep; 
Yon can be a true dinoipU 
Sitting at the Savioi r’s feet 1 ” 
the same category, while the Southern States exhibit 
a still more meagre production. It was well remarked 
by an experienced railway financier of England, lately 
in this country, that * the great West is strangled by 
illiberal railway policy, while the South is starved,’ 
and he concludes that ‘ cheap freights and very 
numerous trains is the remedy.’ ” 
fminus fopits 
Perhaps we could allude to no subject that would 
more interest onr patrons and readers than the pro¬ 
posed National System of cheap freight Railways. 
Something over a year since Memorials and Bills 
were brought into Congress by Lorenzo Sherwood, 
proposing a system of Arterial Trunk Railways on a 
new plan of management, and with a view to system- 
ize and invigorate the present 3S,000 miles of road, 
by the addition of Arterial Trunks, or oopimon Rail¬ 
way Thoroughfares, running from the interior to 
the sea-hoard,—these trunks to be open to free com¬ 
petition, for all the existing roads, or other carriers, 
desiring to run trains over them. 
The scheme readily commanded a g o :>g approval. 
To facilitate a knowledge of the png :esof the pro¬ 
posed scheme an Association w- fnri'ied consisting 
of a President, Vice-President, and Treas¬ 
urer, and in addition thereto a ' president and 
member of the Executive Gout c.il i> each of the 
States ana Territories, and s' •> from be District of 
Columbia. These persons pose the officers of 
the League. By the rules of the AssucOi.. m any 
person sympathizing in the objects of the movement 
is regarded as a member, those objects being to give 
the Railway Us greatest power in carrying freights, 
and to reduce the cost of transportation to the low¬ 
est point consistent with fair and liberal income on 
railway property. 
The utility of this movement is recognized in a let¬ 
ter signed by the President and Vice-President of 
the League and other officers, and in addition thereto 
some 10 Governors and ex-Governors, 39 Senators, 
146 members and ex-members of CODgress, besides 
other leading public economists from the different 
States. 
The results and advantages ciaimcd by the advo¬ 
cates of the system are embraced substantially in the 
following specifications: — “First. It is assumed 
that the freight capacity of the roads upon the new 
plan of management will be increased more than 
ten-fold over the double track as heretofore and now 
managed. Second. That freights can be lessened to 
one-third, or less, of present railway charges on the 
average. Third. As much can be saved to the peo¬ 
ple in the annual expenses of doing the business as 
the yearly interest on the national debt amounts to. 
Fourth. That the improved system will be attended 
with a new creation of taxable property of more than 
the national debt itself. Fifth. That the arterial 
trunk thoroughfares, to be built, among other 
things, for the eommon advantage of the 38,000 
miles of road now in operation, will add to the 
existing lines of railway twenty-five per cent., on 
the average, to present value. Sixth. That our 
national production may easily be doubled, or treb¬ 
led, in the course of a few years," 
A contemporary, speaking of the progress of the 
movement, says: —"Not one year has elapsed 
since the first memorial on the subject of the cheap 
freight railway system was presented in Congress. 
It is now endorsed by the public economists iu and 
out of Congress, and has obtained a foothold that 
will not be relinquished. It will take no step back¬ 
wards. Nearly half ol onr population are in ajtive 
sympathy with the movement; not that its details 
are so generally understood, tut because everybody 
knows that the public is being imposed upon by the 
ignorance or covetousness of railway managers, md 
that this proposed change in system and managemmt 
promises something ol good to the public. \U 
classes will soon be made to comprehend its vist 
importance to all the producing interests of '(he 
country. To all these interests, whether agricnlin- 
rul, mechanical, mining, manufacturing or commer¬ 
cial, the League addresses itself, and invites in 
earnest, active and significant co-operation by o.’ 
ganized effort." 
The American Railroad J ournal, speaking on tie 
subject, thus remarks: — "Few persons, at first 
sight, comprehend the immense efleet of an in- 
proved system for the rapid and cheap handling 
of the agricultural, mining and manufacturing re¬ 
sources of the country. It was stated by an in¬ 
telligent farmer of the West, a few days since, tha. 
the ‘Cheap Freight Railway System,’ If accom 
plished, would add three-fourths to the average 
net profits of agriculture, after deducting the cost. 
SWIMMING 
We all know that breast swimming is the style 
commonly adopted .all over the world. Beginners 
commence on the breast, and in nine instances out 
of ten, they continue to move through the water 
on their breast all through their lives. It is in the 
water what walking ia on land. To the beginner it 
has the advantage of beiug the easiest to learn, and 
to the adept it has the attraction of having “last” 
about it. Long distances are mostly performed in 
this style, as being more steady, aud consequently 
less fatiguing; so that here the breast frequently 
conquers its more daebiug rival, the side. Also, 
when swimming for pleasure, rather than for glor, , 
we Instinctively take to the breast. The chief rules 
are: — 1. Spread out your hands (fingers closed) 
widely, so as to describe as large a circle as you 
possibly can. If you watch good breast swimmers, 
you will at first be surprised to observe what a 
broad sweep they thus make. 2. The same rule 
holds good for the feet; you cauuot describe too 
large a circle; therefore, send out your legs to their 
utmost length aud breadth. 3 After you have de¬ 
scribed this circle, in order to complete the stroke, 
bring the heels together sharply and vigorously. 
Remember, it is this jerk and quick meeting of the 
heels which sends you forward. It is in this par¬ 
ticular that Gurr especially excels, so that he can 
propel himself some five or six feet each stroke. A 
long stroke could not be made iu any other way. 
The secret of the matter is this, that after the sharp 
contact of the heels, your body instantly floats 
along, or rather cuts through the water those five 
feet without any other effort on your part. The 
stroke made with the hands or arms is of small ser¬ 
vice, except to maintain your balance on the water. 
A Toad Undressing.— Audubon relates that he 
once saw a toad undress himself. He commenced 
by pressing his elbows hard against his sides and 
Tubbing downward. After a few smart rubs his 
hide began to burst along his back. He kept on 
rubbing until he worked all his skin into folds on 
his sides and hips; then grasping one hind leg with 
his hands, he hauled off one leg of his pants the 
same as anybody would; then stripped oft''the 
other hind leg in the same way. He then took his 
cast off skin forward between his fore legs into his 
mouth and swallowed it; then, by raising aud low¬ 
ering his head, swallowing as his head came dowu, 
he stripped oft' his skin underneath, until it came 
to his fore legs; theu grasping one of these with 
the opposite hand, by a single motion of the head, 
and while swullowing, he drew it front the neck and 
swallowed the whole. 
When Mr. Longfellow was honored by the 
English University of Cambridge with the degree of 
LL. D., the orator of the occasion made a droll 
mistake. He credited our American poet with the 
authorship ol “ Enoch Arden,” a credit which we, 
with all due respect for Alfred Tennyson, consider 
, scarcely a compliment. Our educated friends across 
the water ought to read up a little on their native 
literature. 
Wm. F. De Haas is painting a view of “Mount 
* Washington from Pudding Pond.” The artist has 
chosen an early morning for his view, when the 
mists are drifting from the lake and dissolving on 
the side of the mountain. He will spend the sum¬ 
mer among the Allegunies. 
Hill’s “ Yo Semite" is to be reproduced in chro- 
mo by Prang. Hill is a Boston artist, and the 
papers of “the Hub " claim that his picture of the 
grand California valley is superior to Bihrstadt’8 
because more truthful to nature. 
Ex Gov. Fairbanks of Vermont, has just had a 
picturepaiuied by Brown of Boston, called a “View 
of Etna,” from the ruins of the ancient theater of 
Termiua. 
Blerstadt has a new picture which is said to form 
one of the most attractive exhibitions in London 
•this season. It represents Vesuvius in eruption, 
and is painted with great power from careful studies. 
Bayard Taylor, when last at Rome, opened a 
V» tudio, employed models, and went through a regu¬ 
lar course of art instruction. 
The Applbtons will soon issne a new periodical 
^called “Spare Hours." Every publishing house 
has its magazine now-a-days. 
ILiram Powers has carved himself out $32,000 
with his chisel. 
Mr. Brackett, the sculptor, is engaged on a bust 
of Miss Anna Dickenson. 
The exhibition of the National Academy of De6iga, 
New York, has been formally closed. 
Eastman Johnson has sold to Mr. Prang his 
original of the “Boyhood of Lincoln." 
Mr G-bo. L. Brown, the Boston artist, is having 
, his picture, the Bay of New York, engraved. 
Vegetable Growth from Paper.— Take a sheet 
or piece of ordinary writing paper, say commercial 
note, and saturate it in a solution of bi-chromate of 
potassium, 1 oz., with water 3 oz., and dry it in the 
sun. Cut the paper into squares of about three 
inches, and double them hack and forth until the 
form—a zigzag section—will stand on a table, and 
ignite the top of the slip. The result will be a slow 
combustion, the products of the combustion grow¬ 
ing out of the edge of the paper like spears of 
grass, and curling 07er to represent very faithfully 
the curving ancl depending leaves of the palm and 
cane. If the process ib carried on without drafts of 
air the final result will be a bunch of beautiful blue- 
green filaments, while the process of combustion 
itself will prove a means of pleasant recreation.— 
ScmUiJic American. 
No young man who desires to succeed in business 
has any time to lose in shuffling about in experi¬ 
mental clerkships; and after finishing his school 
education the sooner he makes choice of his busi¬ 
ness for life, and sets himself at work to learn and 
become successfully established, the better. No 
young man can afford to make a mistake in his 
choice of occupation; the first choice should be the 
true one. And for this reason we would say to a 
young man in regard to routine clerkship, by no 
means accept a place of that kind, not even if the 
salary is large; it may seem large at first, but there 
can be no compensation to a young man for the loss 
of time. Indeed, we are sincerely of the opinion 
that a youDg man, at the start, bad better work lor 
nothing, or even pay for the privilege of going into 
an establishment where he can learn a good busi¬ 
ness, than to take one of these clerkships at any 
price. 
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