AUS. 47 
§30 
|Uat)in() for tbe gmntg. 
GRANDMA A PRISONER. 
As grandma—dear grandma, the life of the house— 
Stept into her closet one day. 
She left little Arthur as still as a mouse, 
Oa the floor of her chamber at play. 
While she shook out her dresses and smoothed out her 
shawl. 
And straightened the things on the shelf, 
The boy, never dreaming of what might befall, 
Toddled up to the door, little elf! 
In a twinkling he Bbut it and laughed in glee,' 
“ ’Ou taut turn out any more !" 
“ 0. Arthur, my dear little boy,” cried she, 
“ Now how can I opeu the door!" 
He could not reach the knob, she knew, 
And there was no kuob Inside, 
And the hall-door was shut I O, what should she do! 
” Call—call to your aunty,” she cried. 
The gay little mischievous laughter ceased, 
While she stood perplexed in the dark ; 
As ki9 fuu died out and hia fear increased, 
O. how he did call and hark 1 
'■ Now knock at the chamber-door,” cried she, 
“ And aunty .will surely hear,” 
And be knocked, aud knocked again for me, 
Beginning to sob for fear. 
I sat aloft in my easy-chair, 
Mj'thoughts ou my book intent. 
And though calling and knocking reached me there, 
I dreamed not what they meant. 
Grandma, indulgent as grandmas are,! 
Was letting him hammer and shout— 
So I sai l to myself—aud I did not care; 
My nerves at that distance were stout! 
At length I leisurely sauntered down ; 
And entered the room when be ran : 
Sobbing, and holding me fast by the gown, 
To tell me the story begau. 
I caught the words “ c’osot" and “ grandma no more 
Was needed the whole to relate; 
In a trice I had oponed the closet-door, 
And the. J jy of that moment was great. 
“.Now what would gr.indma have done,” said she, 
As he kissed her o’er and o’er. 
“ if no one had come to my boy and me 
To open the closet-door V” 
While the tears still flowed from his Bhining eyes 
Like drops from a brimmiDg cup, 
“ What tould ’ou <lo?” he cried, in surprise, 
‘•’Ou tould wait till me grow up!” [Companion. 
-- 
“POCKET-MONEY FOR THE YOUNG 
PEOPLE.”—No. 13. 
ANNIE L. JACK. 
“ Boys," said the father on his return from the 
city, “ I have an order for 25 ypung cedars a foot 
long. So, as soou as you get up In the morning, 
Will, you can go to tue woods and get them. You 
know where they grow, and the dollar Is to be 
for yourself. The next order Is to be yours,” he 
added, nodding to a younger lad. In this way, 
ancl by gathering forest tree seeds, now In de¬ 
mand, boys can often earn afewdollars, learning 
quickly to know salable trees and the proper 
ripeness of seed. If a good selection Is made, the 
city seedsmen soon learn where to send when 
they receive an order for trees—as la very often 
the case—from people who cannot pay nursery 
prices, or from nurserymen who have not the 
trees required. 
One of our little men grows corn for his pocket- 
money. The ground ts prepared as for field corn, 
and he always plants Early Minnesota as coming 
to green ears earlier than any kind we have tried. 
It is of rather dwarf habit, and can be planted a 
little closer than tall varieties; and as he sows 
he sings, 
” One for the blackbird, two for the crow, 
One far the out-worm, and two to grow.'' 
The profit of this civp Is In being early In mar¬ 
ket, for although sweet and well-flavored, It Is of 
no account when the large, coarse, common white 
corn is ready, so persistent are people to have big 
ears, whether the quality Is good or not. When 
below 15 cents per dozen we let It ripen for seed, 
and have no trouble In disposing of it to seedsmen 
who know what we grow. la this way one small 
boy can hoe his patch of corn, and even learn 
l o cultivate and keep It clean, and If careful to 
get a good variety, very early, and to grow only 
one kind, so as to be able to warrant the seed, he 
can easily rea'lze.twenty-flve dollars from a quar¬ 
ter of an acre. 
There Is hardly any garden where a place can¬ 
not be found where two or turee or even a dozen 
grape-vines may be planted—plant Concord for 
profit. No matter who may condemn them, and 
prefer finer sorts: we all know that they are not 
Black Hamburg or even Eumelan, but they are 
hardy, productive and abundant bearers, the 
“grape for the million,” and they will sell. The 
prunlnga in the fall, It cut carefully, will make 
young plants that the boys will sell too, as when 
two years old they bring 25 cents each. The 
grapes, put up In boxes or baskets, are very cheap 
In the fall, but for fresh, well grown bunches 
there is always a market and money In them. 
The vine revels In black swamp muck and wood 
ashes and amply repays for care bestowed on it. 
ir you are not tired of the prospect of a little work, 
I can tell you another time of more waysln which 
girls and boys can earn a nice little Independent 
pocket-money. 
--- 
THE BEAVER. 
an animal that approaches near to man In the 
attributes of reason, reflection, foresight, and de¬ 
sign, is the Beaver, whose name, as you know, is 
associated with the hats that are made from Its 
soft downy under-fur. I call him an engineer; 
but I might with propriety style him an arelil- 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
tect, a carpenter and a mason, for he unites all 
these occupations with a perseverance and energy 
that are remarkable. He constructs a habitation 
with floors, roofs, and separata apartments for 
storing rood and for sleeping, and plasters the 
house over with the skill and effect of the moat 
expert mason. But these are not the most curi¬ 
ous works of the beaver, as you will learn. 
In describing this animal, you will perceive how 
wonderfully he Is adapted to carry on the opera¬ 
tions necessary for his existence. The beaver is 
usually about two feet in length; the head la 
thick and pyramidal, with small eyes, short ears, 
almost concealed In Its fur, a blunt nose, a thick 
and short neck, and a very strong compact body; 
the tall, about a foot lit length, Is partly envelop¬ 
ed In lur, and encased in close and compact 
scales, adjusted like those of the fish, and which, 
curved above, and broad and flat below, Is 
particularly suited to the purposes for which 
this instrument, seems to have been Intended, 
namely, as a paddle and rudder to forward and 
regulate the animal’s motion when swimming, 
and as a trowel to press together, and afterwards 
to plaster, the materials which it uses for the 
erection of Its dwelling. 
The fore-feet, which resemble In shape those of 
the rat, are small and short, having live divided 
toes, strongly armed with claws, well calculated 
for digging the holes In which are to be de¬ 
posited the foundations of Its building; and these 
feet, like the squirrel, the animal uses as hands, 
to convey substances to the mouth, or to assist In 
removing them from one place to another when 
collecting material. The hind feet are made 
large and powerful, like those or the goose, by a 
strong membrane, or web, which affords to the 
animal that facility In swimming that forms so 
peculiar a part of its habit. It Is owing to this 
difference In the struct are of the fore and hind 
legs that the beaver swims better tlma It walks. 
Its head, the whole of the body, and a part of Us 
tall ara covered with a double fur—the Inner one 
being flno aud glossy, white the outer one Is 
formed of long, straight, and coarse hair, of a 
dark chestnut color, approaching to black; In a 
tew, of a milky white, more rarely of a cream 
color, and sometimes of patches of black spots 
upon a white ground. This coat, while it adds to 
the warmth of the animal, seems Intended, like 
the feathers of water-fowls, to throw off the water 
from Its several points while the beaver Is la the 
act of swimming, and thus to preserve the skin 
from the influence of the wet. 
But the most Interesting part of the animal’s 
structure Is the teei.h, through the agency of which 
it Is enabled to perform Its surprising achieve¬ 
ments. These, like those of the other animals of 
the same order, consist only of motors, or cheek 
teeth, and incissors, or cutting teeth. The molars, 
which are eight In each j aw, are divided by small 
ridges which Increase their capability of grinding 
the hard substances, as wood, the bark of trees, 
and the like, which constitute the beaver's food,! 
and of grasping them firmly when conveying 
them from one place to another; while the Incls- 
sors, two above, and the same below, have a 
sharp, chisel-formed edge, with w hlch the animal 
is enabled with great rapidity and dexterity to 
gnaw through and divide those trees and their 
branches used for its food, and as one of the chief 
materials of the buildings. 
Thus these teeth serve the purposes or an axe, 
a saw, and an adze; and as they are In constant 
exercise, and liable to wear out, nature has pro¬ 
vided the means of renewing them in exact pro¬ 
portion as they are exercised. You will thus per¬ 
ceive how the beaver Is amply prepared for tbe 
busy purposes of Its existence. 
Tbe rood of t he beaver consists of the bark of 
trees and shrubs, such as the blreb, poplar, wil¬ 
low, £c., and of the roots of water-lilies and other 
water plants. In summer It will eal berries, 
leaves, and various kinds of herbage; and some 
persons have stated that It eats fish, but this Is 
doubtfuL They are extremely fona of water, and 
seldom wander far from some lake or river. In 
consequence of its nabits, the beaver Is also lim¬ 
ited to wooded districts. When they are deprived 
of their habitations, they assemble In the early 
part of summer to erect others In a new, and, If 
possible, a more secure situation. For this pur¬ 
pose they select some part of a lake or river, ou 
tbe banks of which they can easily procure a suffi¬ 
cient supply of timber, as well for their food as 
their building purposes. Having fixed upon the 
best situation, tney begin to gnaw down one of 
the largest trees they can find, taking care that 
If on the bank of a river, it shall fall directly 
across the stream. As many as can conveniently 
sit around this tree continue to gnaw it about 
eighteen Inches from the ground, until it begins 
to give way. While one party is thus employed, 
another Is cutting down some smaller trees, and 
a third Is making mortar of soft clay, and draw¬ 
ing It to the edge of the river, where the bridge 
or dam Is to be. A gentleman who lived for some 
time In Canada, and had many opportunities of 
watching these curious animals, describes this 
part of their work as highly comical. After they 
have reduced the mortar or clay to a state ot suffi¬ 
cient consistency and adhesiveness, one of the 
largest beavers lies down upon Its back, and the 
others heap up a prodigious quantity of the pre¬ 
pared cement on its stomach. Thus laden, two 
carriers seize hold of their companion by the ears, 
and drag the passive creature to the water’s edge; 
then entering the river, they float along to that 
part of the dam which more Immediately requires 
the plast ering assistance. 
The use or these dams will be understood when 
I mention that the houses or lodges of heavera 
are grouped together near the edge of the water, 
the mud being seraped away from the front so 
that there may be a sufficient depth of water to 
allow free egress, even during the most Bevere 
frost. When the depth or water Is not sufficient, 
a dam becomes necessary, by the 3lde of which 
the lodge Is placed. The dam Is sometimes as 
much as three hundred yards la length, rising la 
a circular rorui towards the current; aad partic¬ 
ularly so where the currents are strong, some¬ 
times extending ou botb sides, heyond the natural 
channel of the stream. The materials of which 
it. Is composed are sticks, roots, and branches, 
with stones, moss, grasses, and mud, mixed to¬ 
gether so firmly as to become absolutely water¬ 
tight. Indeed, so remarkably solid Is this part ol’ 
their work, that 11 in places,” says tlearne, “which 
have been long frequented by beavera undisturb¬ 
ed, their dams by constant repairing become a 
solid bank, capable of resisting a great force both 
of water and ice; and as the willow, poplar, and 
birch generally take root and shoot up. they by 
degrees form a kind of regular planted hedge, 
which I have seen In some places so tall that 
birds have built their nests among their 
branches.” All this seems very marvelous, and 
beyond the blind Impulse of Instinct. 
The next employment or the beavers is the di¬ 
vision of the river below into equal compartments, 
the walls of which are raised to the surface of the 
water. These are made entirely of clay, and 
about two feet In thickness. Over these they 
build arches, and begin the erection of their 
apartments, which are of a circular form, and can 
only be entered from the water beneath, They 
are also arched and plastered so neatly, and with 
such durable materials, that they resist the force 
of the most violent aud protracted rains, and se¬ 
vere storms. Each hut coutalns commonly one 
or two, but sometimes four families. The bea¬ 
vers cover their buildings each season, as soon as 
the frost seta In, with a new coat of plaster, their 
tails answeriog the twofold purpose ot a spade 
and a trowel. Their store-rooms are constantly 
supplied with an abundance and variety of young 
and tender trees, of which they are particularly 
fond, in summer they make excursions in the 
woods, choosing the trees they mean to make use 
of, and marking the position of new settlements, 
when their Increase of numbers requires them to 
plant colonies. Their wood-cutting begins at the 
end of summer. One of the worst enemies of the 
beaver, after man, Is the glutton; and to protect 
themselves ;from that animal, whose principal 
food Is small quadrupeds, they have subterrane¬ 
ous retreats along the banks of rivers or lakes, 
to which tuey retreat when they are attacked. 
The value ot the fur makes the beaver an especial 
object of the liunter’3 labors. It Is In winter, 
when the water Is rrozen, that tbe.se animals are 
destroyed In the greatest number. The hunter, 
on approaching the dam, cuts holes In tbe lee at a 
considerable distance from their habitations. 
Then, by breaking open l he upper apartments, he 
succeeds In driving them under the Ice; but as 
they cannot exist In the water without frequently 
rising to the surface to breathe, they are forced 
to the holes cut by the hunter, when their cap¬ 
ture and death speedily follow. 
From being quite numerous In our northern 
latitudes, these clever little animals have been so 
persistently hunted that, like the moose, deer, 
and bison, they are gradually being exterminated, 
and unless public sentiment intervenes to modify 
the destruction, our reminiscences of the beaver 
will be kept alive solely through the medium of 
museums. Uncle True. 
-- 
FOOTBALL. 
It would be quite Impossible for me to attempt 
to give within the limits of tills article a descrip 
tlon ot the character of the game, andtheruleB 
and regulations adopted by various schools and 
clubs In foot-ball. As an humble but enthusiastic 
supporter of this pastime, I take the opportunity 
of expressing at the outset my strong antipathy 
for that brutal practice termed hacking, which 
can under no ctrcumstances promote skill or in¬ 
terest, and Indeed seems rather Intended to enable 
a few powerful hulking fellows to keep allthefun 
to themselves. To call a thing by Us right name, 
hacking means neither more nor less than kicking 
our adversary over. In order to get the ball away 
from him, a process which may give the particular 
school or club at which It Is practiced a name for 
fierce playing; but U Is not toot-ball. The real 
fact of the matter Is, that some few Individuals 
more amply blessed with muscle than brains, have 
come to the wise conclusion that ordinary foot¬ 
ball Is very tame work, and that to give It vi¬ 
vacity the element of ferocity must be Imported 
Into It. They remind me very much of a certain 
General Bourn. He Is so tremendously war-like 
that he cannot take snuff like other people; but 
when he feels that his nose requires a little Irrita¬ 
tion, he draws a pistol out or his pocket, fires It 
off, and then snuffs the barrel. There Is nothing 
a bit more extravagant in this than the Insane 
length to which, not so long ago, hacking and 
fighting were carried. Goodness knows the shins 
come In for quite enough Ill-usage in the unavoid¬ 
able scrimmages that are Inseparably attached to 
the game whenever and wherever it is played; 
and the knocking about that one gets Is quite 
sufficient without any extra aids to bruises being 
introduced. It requires no small amount of cour¬ 
age and endurance to Indulge In foot-ball, pure 
and simple, and I am Bure there Is no need to 
make It a struggle between a lot of wild beasts 
to see which can hurt and mangle LUe other most. 
I have seen some severe tussels In my tune, and 
they excited far more emulation arid display of 
prowess than all the hacking In the world ever 
could. On such occasions the real test of a 
player’s merit was his ability to “ dribble ” and 
dodge with the ball; and when he had scientific¬ 
ally worked It. to sufficiently close proximity to 
tho adversary’s base, to gently kick It Into the 
hands of one of hlBown side, who was then en¬ 
titled to take three yards and have a fair kick for 
tue base. There was no nonseute about this, It 
really required con&tderable skill and a great 
deal of practice before that skill could be obtained. 
You might charge the other side as much as you 
liked, and give them as many spills when In a 
legitimate rescue or the ball from their attentions 
as might appear necessary; but to wait till one 
ol them had got It in his arms, and then to rush 
up and kick his shins to make him let go was 
scarcely a practice to be countenanced. The 
truth Is that all handling the ball In any shape or 
form Is utterly and entirely a mistake; It Is the 
one Innovation on legitimate foot-ball that has 
done all the mischief, and afforded an opportu¬ 
nity for the Introduction of a variety of novel 
elements, which go far to deprive the game of all 
pristine advantages. s. n 
alibdjj lUatring 
* 
GETH8EMANE. 
In golden Youth, when seems the Earth 
A Summer-laud for sinking mirth, 
When souls are glad, and hearts are light. 
And not a shadow lurks in Bight. 
We do not know It, but there lies 
Somewhere, veiled under evening.skies, 
A garden all must sometime see:] 
Gethsemane, Gethsemane— 
Somewhere lies our Gethsemane. 
With Joyous steps we go our ways ; 
Love lends> halo to the days/ 
Light sorrows fall like clouds afar; 
We laugh, aud say how strong we are 
We hurry on, and hurrying, go! 
Close to the border-land of Wo,! 
That waits for you and waits for me: 
Gethsemane. Gethsemane— 
Forever waits Gethsemane. 
Down shadowy lanes, across strange streams 
Bridged over by our broken dreams, 
Behind the misty caps of years, 
Close to the great salt fount of tears. 
The garden lies. Strive as you may. 
You cannot miss it in your way, 
All paths that have been, or shall be, 
Pass somewhere through Gethsemane. 
All those who Journey, Boon or late 
Must pass within the garden’s gate— 
Must kneel alone in darkness there. 
And battle with some fierce despair. 
God pity those who cannot say, 
” Not mine, but Thine ”: who only pray, 
“ Let this cup pass,” and do not see 
The pttrpon in Gethsemane; 
Gethsemane, Gethsemane— 
God help us through Gethsemane! 
T Chicago Times. 
-;MH»- 
JACOB S VISION—CHRIST THE LADDER. 
It Is not efften that we And the truths of the 
gospel so evenly balanced as la the following 
beautiful Illustration rroin the pen of an eminent 
writer. Hts subject Is Jacob’s vision and vow 
and he has previously compared the ladder of the 
vision lo the work of the Mediator, through 
which the lost cominuulott may be renewed, and 
man again “ have accees to the Father,” and has 
shown how the union of tho Divine and human 
natures In Christ found an accurate emblem In 
this ladder—botb resting on the grouud, and 
reaching unto the sky; and he then proceeds to 
unfold the practical lesson which It teaches:— 
“ However we would avoid the straining a type, 
we own that the representation of Christ under 
the figure or a ladder appears to us to include the 
most exact references to the appointed mode of 
salvation. How do I look to be saved ? By cling¬ 
ing to Christ. How do I expect to ascend up to 
heaven ? By mounting, stop by step, the whole 
hlght ot Christ’s work, so that ne Is made unto 
me of God 1 wisdom, and righteousness, and 
sanctification, and redemption.’ 
•* It is no easy thing, tne gaining eternal life 
through the finished work of the Mediator. It is 
a vast deal more than the sitting with the prophet 
In his car of fire, and being borne aloft without 
effort to an Incorruptible Inheritance. ‘ The 
kingdom or heaven suffereth violence, and tbe 
violent take It by force/ There must be, If we 
may thus express it, a holding fast to Christ, and 
a climbing up by Christ; to look back Is to grow 
dizzy, to let go Is to perish. And that we are to 
mount by the Mediator, and all the while to keep 
hold on the Mediator; that we are, lu short, to 
ascend by successive stages, stretching the hand 
to one line after another la the work of the 
Redeemer, and planting the foot on one step 
after another lu the covenant made with us and 
Christ,—what can more aptly exhibit this, than 
tho exhibiting Christ as a ladder set upon the 
earth, that man may scale the heavens? 
“Tbe necessity of our own striving, and yet the 
uselessnesss of that striving, If not exerted In the 
right manner; the Impossibility of our entering 
heaven except through Christ, and the equal Im¬ 
possibility of our entering It without effort and 
toll; the fearful peril of our relaxing for an In¬ 
stant our spiritual vigilance and earnestness, see¬ 
ing that we hang as it were between earth and 
heaven, and may be thrown by a moment’s care¬ 
lessness headlong to the ground; the complete¬ 
ness and singleness ot the salvation which Is In 
Jesus, so that, if wo adhere to It, It Is sufficient, 
but there are no roads that meet in It or branch 
off from It—swerve a single Inch and you have no 
footing, but must bo hopelessly precipitated—all 
these particulars seein Indicated under the Image 
of a ladder, and could not perhaps have been 
equally marked, had some other emblem been 
given ot the connecting of earth and heaven by 
the Mediator, Christ. 
“And now, as I stand upon earth, tho child of 
a fallen, aud yet redeemed race, aud examine 
how I may escape the heritage or shame which Is 
naturally my portion, and Boar to that sky which 
woos me by Its brightness; oh, I read ot ‘enter¬ 
ing into the holiest by the blood of Jesus,’ and of 
•laying hold upon tho hope set before us.’ and of 
following on to know the Lord, and of being 
‘raised up and being made to sit together In 
heavenly places In Christ/ ” 
—-« » ♦ . 
Every minister’s life should he a commentary 
upon Christ's life. 
