fMing fur % IimitD, 
NURSERY JINGLES. 
KISS OP TRE IIAIN. 
Pretty little rain-drops, 
Laughmpr, kissed the daisy, 
Doztwr on Its counh of green. 
Oh, so hot and lazy 1 
Then the daisy upward sprang 
And sang out bo gaily, 
“ Kiss again, kiss again, 
Rraln-drop soft, I pray ye.” 
THE DICKEY BIRDS. 
Dickey-bird baby 
In the uest. sleeps, 
Dickey-Bird mother 
Watch o'er It keeps; 
Dlckey-bird father 
Is the bread-winner— 
See him fly homo 
With crumbs for a dinner. 
THE END OF THE CANDLE. 
CLEMENT SCOTT, 
The title of my Btory Is suggestive, and I doubt 
not that It may appeal to boys’minds in various 
ways. Allow me, however, to preface my little 
annecdote with the grave assertion that what 
follows Is connected In no way whatever with 
what, in schoolboy phraseology, is technically 
known as “ a Bell.” I have been, thank goodness, 
a schoolboy myself; and I am happy to say that 
the old-fashioned tricks were, as they should be, 
played upon me In common with my fellow- 
creatures. 
What I have to tell has, however, nothing to do 
with tricks In tallow or pilfered lights. My 
story treats of a real and bona-jlae candle, not 
one ot your modern composite Inventions with a 
finely-tapered end patented and warranted to fit 
every conceivable candlestick, and a wick that 
never wants snuffing, but dies away into a dissi¬ 
pated fiery end. 
You must go back with me to the old dayB, 
when patent candles were not Invented or 
thought of, and when a sliver snuffer-tray and a 
pair of stiver snuffers were brought in and de¬ 
posited by the side of the tall candlesticks in 
great state. According to my present Ideas of 
life, 1 don’t think that 1 should consider Staunton 
altogether a lively place; hut Staunton lu the 
days when I knew it was to me a paradise. My 
two maiden aunts, were exceedingly fond ot their 
nephew, and as their nephew was not altogether 
a mischievous lad, and possessed the wonderful 
gift of being able to amuse himself, It need not 
appear extraordinary that the owners of a cer¬ 
tain white-looking, clean mansion In Main 
Street of Staunton and the pale-faced visitor at 
the said mansion got on very well together. 
My first Insight Into life and Its mysterious 
ways, dates from my first visit to Staunton, 
where 1 was Just as happy watching the market- 
carta come Into town and put up at the “Tavern,” 
over the way, as I was playing at stage coach, 
and every other conceivable variation of a coach¬ 
ing expedition, all by myself In a deserted out¬ 
house, the only property to render me any 
assistance being a tumble-down and rickety old 
phaeton. 
I had been a mild, docile lad, amusing myself in 
my quiet, unassuming manner, thoroughly con¬ 
tented with my own society and that of my 
respected aunts. Charley Clode was the means 
of revolutionizing my life. He had lots of adven¬ 
tures and tales to relate to me; he first fired me 
with the enthusiasm of public school life, told me 
of his adventures and deeds ot daring, of the 
heroes of the school that he worshiped and the 
sneaks whom he despised; and altogether I 
thought Charley Clode a most enjoyable com¬ 
panion, and cultivated his society accordingly. 
lie was a capital fellow was Charley's father, 
and would often come out and have a turn with 
us at ball, or whatever game we might be 
playing. He was a doctor, and great at all sorts 
of experiments, with which he used to delight us 
In the evenings. According to Charley’s account 
there was no one who could make such fireworks 
as his father, and though It was the wrong time 
of the year we were promised a miniature display 
on the lawn the very first dark night that came. 
One evening—I shall never forget It—I was 
over at the Clodes’ house, and the doctor, who 
had nothing particular to do, was working for us 
a little steam-engine he had lately made. The 
doctor had a workshop in the basement floor of 
the house; and adjoining this was a dark, 
gloomy-looklng cellar, wherein were deposited 
all sorts of odds and ends—old empty bottles 
from the surgery, packing-cases, and rubblst^of 
every kind. The workshop and Its adjacent 
lumber-cellar had always been forbidden us boys, 
for the doctor rather mistrusted Charley’s capa¬ 
bilities of resisting the fascinations of the lathe; 
and though nor, particularly tidy In his own 
work, had that peculiar method In his untidiness 
that he knew exactly where to lay his hands up¬ 
on everything he wanted, and was by no means 
anxious that any of Ms work Bhould be spoiled 
by careless handling or delayed by a sudden Im¬ 
pulse of boyish mischief. Ou theparticular night 
to which I am alluding, Charley and I were sent 
off from the drawing-room, In which Hie doctor’s 
family was assembled, to hunt up the remains of 
an old tramway which the doctor had made 
years ago, and which was to be called Into requi¬ 
sition on the special occasion on which the doctor 
had promised all of us that he would work the 
ml nlature engine on which he had expended so 
much time and trouble, la full assembly. 
The wreck of the tramway w as reported to be 
_ amoDg the old lumber which lay In a helpless and 
confused mass In the dreary dark cellar which 
adjoined the surgery on the basement floor. 
“ We must get a candle,” said Charley, “ for It 
Is pitch dark now, and we shall not be able to Bee 
a yard before us.” 
“All right old boy; but let us be quick about 
It, for your father seems anxious to work tills en¬ 
gine, and all the ladles are Impatient." 
We made our way Into the kitchen, and I don’t 
think they were quite prepared for our sudden 
appearance or tho energetic appeal Charley made 
for a candle. 
In a little room adjoining the kitchen a maid 
was washing up plat es and glasses by the light of 
the very smallest portion of a tallow candle, 
whose wick was at that moment of a portentous 
length, and dimmed considerably the uncertain 
rays which the candle threw upon the melancholy 
party. 
“Here, this will do,” said energetic Charley, 
seizlDg the scrap of candle, and, in his energy, 
extracting it rrom the humble Boeket which con¬ 
tained It. I really believe it was nothing more 
than a bottle. “ We shan’t be gone a minute. 
You can stay In the dark, Mary, until wc re¬ 
turn.” 
It was useless for Mary to protest, which she 
did emphatically, asserting that she would not 
allow the young gentlemen to go messing them¬ 
selves over with all that nasty tallow. Charley 
would wait for no apologies; and thrusting the 
scrap of tallow-candle end Into my hand, for he 
was guide and knew the way and the wherea¬ 
bouts of the artl le which we had come to find, 
he preceded me through the surgery into the de¬ 
serted cellar. 
Charley's search was not at first quite success¬ 
ful. I could do nothing towards assisting him, 
but stood patiently In the middle of the cellar 
with the scrap of caodie-end gradually diminish¬ 
ing between my fingers, tbe wick getting longer 
and longer and the light more and more obscure. 
At last Charley’s voice spoke encouragement. 
My part of the transaction was not a lively one, 
and I felt particularly glad that we were not to 
return to the drawing-room discomfited. Boys 
don’t like to be thought stupid, and to have re¬ 
turned to the doctor empty-handed would have 
been the Blgual for a volley of “ chatf’ 1 from the 
doctor and a chorus from the expectant ladles. 
• nere’s the tramway sure enough," said Char¬ 
ley, from beh'nd two old packing-cases, “ but I 
can’t get it out without your help. Just put that 
beastly oaDdle down somewhere and give us a 
hand behind here.” 
Charley’s request was easier made than accom¬ 
plished. The “ beastly candle,” as he chose to 
call It, was naked and unprotected by any candle¬ 
stick, and to keep the light In under these circum¬ 
stances was not such an easy matter. We were ' 
not at all anxious to bo left In the dark, which 1 
fate very nearly overcook us, lor I made threw 
dismal attempts at setting up the candle, and 1 
failed egreglously on every occasion. 
Charley was getting Impatient, and again sum- f 
moned me to his assistance in authoritative tones 1 
from behind the large packing-cases. 1 
A bright thought suddenly struck me. At my 
side was an open bag containing sand—at least, It 
seemed like sand to me; but I had no time to J 
stop and examine Its contents very closely. I £ 
plunged the candle-end Into the sand, and to my : 
Joy 1 saw that It. stood up firmly In Its impromptu 
resting-place. But I could not help noticing that 
the wick had now got to an enormous size, and 
that at Its end was an ugly fiery lump which - 
threatened every moment to detach itself and 
tunable among the sand. I went to Charley as¬ 
sistance, and by dint of a good deal of pulilDg and 
hauling we managed at last to extricate the doc- 
ter’s tramway from Its obscure hiding-place. 
We emerged from behind the packing-cases. 
“Where did you put the candle?” said Char¬ 
ley ; for the light had now got so dim that It was 
a difficult matter to see It at all. 
“In that bag of sand." 
“ Bug of sand 1—where?” 
I went towards it.. I heard a crash behind me. 
The tramway had fallen from Charley’s shoulder, 
and t felt myself suddenly dragged back just as I 
had got within reach ot the candle. 
I heard but taree words, and they were not 
spoken, but literally hissed into my ears. 
“Sand! It’s gunpowder!" 
I very nearly dropped. That awful cold shiver 
which we have most of us experienced, ran all 
over me, and then I turned round and faced Char¬ 
ley. He looked like death, and a cold sweat was 4 
breaking out on his face. There was no time to S 
be lost. An enormous bloasom or red fire was 
now hanging to the charred wick, which any mo¬ 
ment might fall among the gunpowder, and then 
It was easy to guess wliai would follow. There 
was enough there to blow up the house twenty 
times over. B 
“Does your band shake?”said Charley. “Do 
you think you dare try ?’’ ® 
My nerve—1 was very young, you must remem- 14 
ber—was quite gone. I tried once, twice; and so A 
did Charley; but wo were both trembling In 4 
every limb. A nervous twitch of the hand would Jj 
have destroyed every soul In that house In less L 
than a minute. Charley had said rightly that 2! 
there was no time to he lost. There was little 
good In our standing there looking at one an¬ 
other and waiting for death. That we were pow¬ 
erless to save another or any one, had been 
proved. 
Charley was the bolder of the two; and luckily 
knew his way In the dark. He literally dragged 
me out of the cellar. I did not know where 1 was 
a going, and expected that every moment would be 
my last. At. last I heard blm say: 
3 “ Mary I Mary! I say. look hete I we’ve forgot- 
j ten that bit ot candle you lent us. You’d better 
go and fetch It now, or something or other may 
catch flre. Run along at once will you ?” 
U Hand In hand we stood In the dark stone pas- 
, sa £ e - Two minutes would decide our fate. It 
was decided In less than one. We were saved. 
The servant knew nothing about the gunpow¬ 
der, and so fearlessly approached It, snatched up 
the candle, and Joined us In the passage. 
It was a marvelous escape certainly, aud the 
wonder of It was considerably heightened by our 
being told afterwards that the charred end of the 
wick did fall, but upon tbe floor, and within a foot 
of tbe exposed gunpowder. I tblnkwebotli added 
a little warm boyish thanksgiving to our prayerB 
that night.. We are big boys both ot us now, but 
I doubt If either of us will rorget our adventure 
with the “ the end of the candle.” 
-■» » »- 
The Figure Nine.—A remarkable property of 
this figure Is, that all through the multiplication 
table the product of nine comes to nine. Multi¬ 
ply any number by nine, as nine times two 
equals eighteen,add t he digits together, one plus 
eight equals nine. Holt goes on until we reach 
nine times eleven equals ninety-nine. Very well; 
add the digits, nine plus nine equals eighteen, 
and ono plus eight equals nine. Going on to any 
extent It Is Impossible to get rid ot the figure 
nine. Ta^e any number of examples at random, 
and we have the same result. 
- 
LETTERS FROM BOYS AND GIRLS. 
From Wild Fern. 
Now, Cousin, let us give three cheers for 
" Rocky Mountain Joe,” because he has so many 
virtues, also give blm a vote of thanks for coming 
to the front so boldly, and setting ot her boys an 
example so praiseworthy. I do not mean that 
they should praise themselves, oh no ! but to en¬ 
courage them to be useful in and out of the 
house; and not to chew, Bmoke or drink. Boys, 
(I am talklug to the sensible ones now), what If 
other boys do say that you are tied to “ mother’s 
apron bi rings?” It. Is an honor lobe “mother’s 
hoy.” You can look back In after years when she 
Is no more and know that you did all you could 
for her. 
“R. M. Joe” wants to know what I can do In , 
the line of out-door work. I can sum up the , 
work In a tew words. I live on a farm. 8ome of 
the things I delight In are to fish, skate, and ride i 
horae-back. I would like to correspond with “ I?. 
M. Joe.” " Jumping Jack, ” I think It Is real mean , 
In you to excite my curiosity by wondering who j 
you are ? I thought you were a boy. but uow I do t 
not knew whether you are a boy or a girl. I guess t 
you are a boy. Are you as “ U3 girls” say a col- , 
lege chap, or a Do Ion School boy ? What Is your t 
name? Echo answers whatl “Ivy" Bald that she f 
^ some hat surprised to hear that t thought ^ 
she was a boy. Who would not think t hat she 
was a boy, when she asked so much about the 
girls? Will Uncle True be bo kind as to tell me lo (, 
what paper there Is a premium list or where I can 
get one? Adieu. Wild Fern, 
U. T. sends you a Premium List by this mall. e 
You should make your offer of flower seeds In the v 
Exchange, In another part of the paper. Please h 
send It to the Editor. 
salitatj) IjLeafoittg, 
THE SILENT CITY. 
Weary of life and sad at heart. 
From the world's highway I roamed apart. 
Through wood and wilderness, far away. 
Till near the close of the dying day 
I came to a shadowy river side— 
And the wailing water was wild and wide— 
Where a black-sailed shallop bore me across 
To tbe Silent City of Thanatos. 
Oh, a singular city it is to see 
As any that In tbe world may be 1 
And a strange community bide therein. 
Unvexed by the mad world’s fret and din; 
For they dream no more, or know, for aye. 
The cares that wither, the hopes that die, 
Nor touch of sorrow, or pain of loss, 
In the Silent City of Thanatos. 
And the houses all are straight and low, 
Where shoulder to sbonlder sleep friend and foe, 
And marvelous sculptures, white as snow, 
Gleam in the moonlight, row on row. 
And scored lu rhe rock with euriouB care 
Are the records of those dumb dwellers there. 
Inwrought with hieroglyph, scutcheon and boss, 
In the Silent City of Thanatos. 
And the kings of the earth, though never so high. 
With the vassal hither shall couie aud lie; 
And the warrior, glutted with half the world, 
Here shall find his banners turled, 
And his arrogant armies come to halt 
In the silent btvouao of the vault— 
And pride and pomp be but as dross, 
In the Silent city ol Thauatos. [G. Iden Buis. 
THE WEALTH OF OTHERS. 
m. barton. 
ittgkr. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 22 letters: 
My 1, is, 2 , IT, 9 was lately fashionable. 
My 13, 2 ,3,3,12 ,16 au article for the head. 
My 5, ll, is, 4 an article for the foot. 
My 13, 2 ,18 ,10 also for the foot. 
My 11 , 2 , 15,14 articles of dress. 
My 9, 6, 2 , is, 19 a sort of seat. 
My 16 ,21, 11 , 2 , is, 19 a place of learning. 
My 17, s, 3 , 4 a kind of tree. 
My 10, ll, 20 , 3 ,14 a pronoun. 
My 4 , 7,12 part of your face. 
My ll, 12, 22 an interjection. 
My whole is an old proverb. 
tar Answer In two weeks. Floridan. 
-- 
PYRAMID PUZZLE. 
1 . Beginning of man. 2 . A crowd. 8. Malice. 
4. A man’s name. t. To dread. Centrals form a 
State of New England. 
&r Answer In two weeks. Little One. 
♦ - ■ ■ 
PUZZLER ANSWERS.-Feb. 16. 
Geographical ENiOMA.-Pure love is immortal • 
springing up in time. It runs through eternity. 
DOUBLE De p a pit at ions. 1, Blend, lend, end: 2. 
Swenr. wear,ear; 3, Slink. lintc. Ink; 4. Sowed, ow. d 
wod : a, It iail, rail, ail; 6, Be re, care, are ; 7. Cleave 
leave, eave. 
Miscellaneous Anagrams. —l, Metaphor- 2 
Annie; H. Parody: *. Moss lose: a, Arduou-: «! 
Arena; 7, And; s Anchor. II. Arbiter; 10. Apron : 
D. Demand: L>, Sword; H. Spot; J4, Delicate; 15. 
Demagogues; 10 . Aristocrat; 17. Deilbera'o- 18 
Crcn.n; 19, Vowel; 20, Sturc i; 21. Stamp; 2>, Staple; 
23, Stanch ; 24, State ; 25, Stare : 26, Gnats; 27, Moose. 
Hour-Glass Puzzle.— 
AR I STOCRAT8 
k x c n s y t v u 
s limn 
GREAT 
ONE 
T 
GAB 
TITLE 
SOCIETY 
BCH OOLBOY 
OONTKNTIOUS 
“ Let no man seek his own, but every man an¬ 
other’s wealth.” Such Is the Injunction of St. 
Paul to the church at Corluth. It applies with as 
great, If not with greater force to each Individual 
Christian at the present day. But Low rew are 
those who heed the wise counsel of the apostle 
la Its widest and truest sense. How few really 
bring thoughts, words and deeds, character, In¬ 
fluence, aud life, to bear upon their neighbor’s 
welfare; so much seir-seeklng of our own In all 
we attempt. Where Is the spirit of the Saviour, 
who “pleased not Hlmseir," but whose stay on 
earth was one perpetual sacrifice for the wealth 
or others? “Though He was rich, yet for your 
sakes He became poor, that ye thought His pov¬ 
erty might be rich.” 
How can wo add to the wealth of others ? 
Spiritually, first by the tone ot our life and char¬ 
acter. Let the happiness and beauty of obedience 
to Divine law sUine out continually ; this will 
tempt ethers to Inquire Into Its cause and seek It 
for themselves. Let words follow deeds, not go 
b.-fore; let there be some likeness to our Master 
ere we moke a proruse profes iou of the Up; this 
will speak plainer language than the tongue. 
The Lora accepts the stuuimerlng accents 
which would say something for Ills cause. Who 
knows whether a right thought may not be stir¬ 
red up In the heart of a brother or sister, ora 
worthy purpose strengthened, by even a simple 
expression? Let us commit the results or our 
words to God; we may wing the arrow, In His 
hands lies the direction of it. it is not uncom¬ 
mon to hear the remark, “ Yes; he Is a very good 
man, hut very disagreeable." W'hy Is this ? Why 
do real Christians often adopt a harsh demeanor 
toward others7 They can be right, yet not. rude. 
Let us boldly set our face against anything that 
Involves the sacrifice of principle, hut yield minor 
points with gentleness. Be courteous; let the 
leaven leaven the whole man. Nothing is little 
that goes to make up character. We allow the 
grace of God to change and control our disposi¬ 
tion, why should it ho forbidden to refine our 
manner? “ Glorify God in your body.” “A soft 
tongue breaketh the bone." Let there be tbe ut¬ 
most possible tenderness and forbearance In our 
Intercourse with “ those that are without.” 
Is it not true that we willingly or unwillingly, 
consciously, do effect a large and continuous in¬ 
fluence ou tho minds, habits, end outward walk 
of those about us? The simplest thing may lead 
to great results. A look, a sigh, a touch may 
change a resolution. Some natures are so con¬ 
stituted that they yield at oucefo the subtle force 
or a strong character, and arc led at will. Others 
resist and beat against the hand that would guide, 
thus bringing out their own independent 
strength, and In turn acting for or against tbe 
discipline ot another. No net la wit hout Its con¬ 
sequences. What awful issues then may hang 
on the works of our hands and the words of our 
lips! Truly we have need to watch, aud that 
continually, lest we should give the enemy an ad¬ 
vantage. 
Seeing therefore that “ no man llveth te him- 
8elt ’ alone, but that he wields amlglny power 
over his immediate circle, aud through them to 
some extent on the world. It becomes an important 
marter to examine Into the ways In which this 
rule !h exercised, mid whether u be his own or an¬ 
other's wealth he seeks to Increase. L >ok at tho 
price Jesus has paid: -‘ye were not redeemed 
with corruptible things," “but with the precious 
blood of Christ.” fiy the costly outlay oi his ln- 
eofinable life He has long bought us aitogm tier— 
our wills, our hearts, our wools beings-“that 
they winch live should uot, henceforth live unto 
themselves, but unto Him wldch died tor them.” 
“ Set in slippery places, 1 we have often to con¬ 
tend against Influences antagonistic to Uhrlsiian 
profession »nd practice; hence must we ne very 
Careful here lo maintain a firm front, and hy 
every means put fortli a re-i sting power which, 
while preventing ill effects on ourowu souls, snail 
also Induce others to come on our side, won by 
our good conversation In Christ. 
We have all experienced the power of a consis¬ 
tent earnest Christum on ourselves; how we as¬ 
pire after tho like peaceful assurance. 
