pairing fur % jinrag. 
PAYING HEP. WAY. 
What has my darling been doing to-day, 
To pay for her washing and mending ? 
How can she manage to keep out of debt 
For so much caressing and tending? 
How can I wait till the years shall have flown. 
And the hands have grown larger and stronger? 
Who will be able the interest to pay 
If the debt runs many years longer? 
Dear little feet! How they fly to my side ! 
White arms iny neck are caressing; 
Sweetest of kisses are laid on my cheek; 
Fair head my shoulder is pressing. 
Nothing at all from lily darling is due— 
From evil may angels defend her— 
The debt Is discharged as fast as 'tis made, 
For love is a legal tender ! 
[S. S. Advocxte. 
• - 4 - 4-4 -——- 
SPONGES. 
A. HYATT. 
A MONO the dark-brown leaves and green fila¬ 
ments whtcli are borne upon the edge of the In¬ 
coming tide, one frequently observes a substance 
hardly distinguishable from the surrounding 
plants, except tor Its light-brown color and po¬ 
rosity. This is sometimes dendritic (branching 
like a tree), with lank branches springing from 
broad, thick-spreading bases; but generally It Is 
broken Into fragments, and only the palm-llke 
parts, with their finger-shaped ends, are left 
grasping among the froth-covered sea-weeds. A 
slight pressure will expel the water, and the 
aspect or the half-dried specimen will at once 
arrest attention. 
It is In tact a Sponge, differing only In the de¬ 
tails of Its structure and Its general form from 
the sponges of commerce. The latter, whose Ir¬ 
regular swelling outllnea are so familiar to us, 
are of foreign origin, the better kinds coming 
from the more eastern shores of the Mediterra¬ 
nean, the coarser and larger kinds from the Ba¬ 
hamas. The commercial value or these Is based 
upon the horny nature and closely Interwoven 
texture of their internal skeleton. 
A sponge Is, typically, a gelatinous mass, In 
which is Imbedded numerous little spikes and 
plates, or a borny, calcareous, or siliceous sub¬ 
stance; or halr-like threads of various forms, 
which are so thickly disposed and kult together 
by animal matter, that they form a sort of open¬ 
work frame supporting the looser tissues. 
In the common sponge this fi amo-work Is whol¬ 
ly composed of horny hairs, which are so densely 
packed and elastic that they Immediately resume 
their original shape after being compressed. The 
gelatinous matter is in all cases cleaned outatter 
the sponge Is toru up from Its rocky bed, and 
those which we utilize are only the horny skele¬ 
tons or the living animals. So looRely construct¬ 
ed and fragile, however, are the large branching 
species of our o vn coast, that, a dried specimen 
may he crushed to powder In the hand. 
The exterior of our beach specimens have a 
furry look, due to the projecting points or the 
splculu), which protrude through the outer skin. 
Scattered holes of considerable size reveal por¬ 
tions of the Interior, and between them are In¬ 
numerable smaller pores. These larger aper¬ 
tures connect with distinct channels which ram¬ 
ify through the mass in all directions, and, when 
surrounded by their native element, expel con¬ 
tinuous Jets of water. In fact the whole Is only 
an apparatus for absorbing and ejecting sea¬ 
water, well deserving Its old name of sea-lungs. 
The surrounding llqutd Is taken In through the 
smidler pores of the outer side, ancl, passing 
through the lung-ilke Interstices of the struct¬ 
ure, Is finally collected In the main channels and 
thrown out again, together with quantities of 
feculent matter through the larger openings. 
The meshes of the sieve and the channels are 
thickly lined with myriads of microscopical ani¬ 
malcule), to which the perpetual current bears 
tbelr minute food, sifted of all the coarse, unsuit¬ 
able particles, and maintains an invigorating sup¬ 
ply of fresh sea-water throughout the whole ool- 
ony. The animals themselves create this current 
by the motion of clilsc, or little hairs, which grow 
out from the region of the mouth. The form of 
fchelr bodies has been ascertained In only one 
epecles, called Leumsolmia hotryotaes. Ja this, 
which Is quite small, though common on the 
shore, it was touud that they were minute sac- 
shaped beings, with a collar projecting from the 
free end. In the middle of which was the mouth, 
situated at the base of a long filament wliloh was 
hardly ever at rest. It seemed to be employed 
principally In casting morsels or food down Into 
the mouth, and this action, In Itself so alight, Is 
yet, when carried on by the thousauds of neigh¬ 
boring filaments, sufficient to keep the 11 aids In 
rapid motion through the meshes. 
Fniil of late years the animal nature of the 
sponge wasdlsputed. Then It was referred to the 
Ama)ba forms, creatures which are mere sprawl¬ 
ing drops of jelly, without mouths or stomachs, 
but which, however, manage to move about, and 
even In some speclesjbuild up most elaborate in¬ 
ternal structures resembling minute shells. Now, 
through the investigations of Professor Clark, we 
know that they are colonies of such comparative¬ 
ly highly organized beings as those ,1 have de¬ 
scribed, and we are also able to State, upon the 
same authority, that their young are free, roving 
globules, resembling an Isolated Individual or the 
parent stock. 
The mode of growth has not been studied In the 
sponge Itself, but In a closely allied animal where 
a number of little bells grow upon a stem (C'«<Zo- 
slga irulctL&rrima). The young of this Is free at 
first, but finally attaches Itself, and becomes ele¬ 
vated on a pedicle. Then the vase grows more 
oval, the opposite sides at the narrowest diame¬ 
ter approach each other, coalesce and spilt, dl- 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
vidlng all the Internal organs, and the mouth and 
calyx, or collar, Into two parts. Two other fila¬ 
ments grow up from these halves, and a fissure 
begins In the disc, which gradually spreads both 
upward and downward, until two transparent 
vases, complete In structure, swing upon the 
trank wbloh bore only one an hour before. This 
process In some species Is continued until quite a 
cloud of descendants cluster around the parent 
branch, but In others, again, only separata) and 
distinct individuals are produced, the division to¬ 
tally separating the stem as well as the body. 
The sponge, probably, grows In the same way; 
but the vases, having no stems, remain attached 
side by side, and secrete the gelatine and splcu- 
lffi, or horny hairs, from the lower surfaces or 
their bodies. These support the membrane and 
enable it to maintain a definite outline, and con¬ 
tinue Its growth without the danger of collaps¬ 
ing. 
There are several species on our coast, but the 
most noticeable la the great Hallebondria, whose 
favorite resort Is an old wharf-pile. This may 
not seem an attractive object, but Nature lias 
clothed the whole coast with her living tapes¬ 
tries, and even here, her taste Is as faultless, and 
her hand as lavish In decoration, as In more fa¬ 
vored and sunnier spots. 
Get into your boat, and when the tide Is lowest 
float down under the wharves through which the 
current has a clean sweep. The waves lift the 
dank bladder-weeds and .long green sea-hair 
which cover their stained sides, while below 
these, brown clusters of mussel-sheila open their 
fringed mouths, and huge anemones, as thick us 
your arm, spread their laced crowns of white, 
brown, crimson, or variegated colors on the wa¬ 
ter-worn logs; and in the midst our great sea- 
lungs hangsout its mass of branches, and spreads 
Its weird fingers Up towards the observer. Even 
the sponge Is beautiful In such places and with 
such associations. 
- 4 4 »-- 
THE PACK OF RAGAMUFFINS. 
A Occk once addressed hLs nen thus: “It is 
now the time when the nuts are ripe: let us go 
together to the hills, and eat all we can before 
the squirrels carry them away.” 
"Yes," answered the Hen; “let us go and en¬ 
joy ourselves.” 
So they went together to the hills, and as It 
was a bright day they stopped till evening. Now, 
I do not know whether they had become proud, 
but the Hen would not go home on foot, and the 
Cock had to build a little carriage out of the nut¬ 
shells. As soon as It was ready, the lien sat 
herself In It, and said to the Cock, "’You can 
harness yourself to It." “You are very kind," 
said he, “ but 1 would rather walk homo than 
harness my own self. No, we did not agree to 
that. I will willingly be coachman and sit on 
the box; but drag It myseir I nover will." 
While they were quarrellog a Duck called out 
hard by, “You thieving folk, who asked you to 
como to my nut-bill? 
cost you dearly.” And she rushed up to the cock 
with outstretched beak. But tbe Cock was not 
idle either, and attacked the Duck valiantly, and 
at last wounded her so badly with his spur that 
she begged for mercy, and willingly undertook to 
draw the carriage as a punishment. The Cock 
sot himself on the box as coachman, and oil they 
started at a great rate, crying out, “Quick, 
Duck! quick!” When they had gone a portion 
of the way they met two walkers, a Pin and a 
Needle, who called out to them to stop, and said 
It had become loo dark to stUob, and they could 
not go another step; that It was very dirty upon 
the road, and might they get In for a little way ? 
They had been stopping at the tailor’s house 
drinking beer, and had been delayed. The Cock, 
seeing they were thin people, who would not take 
much room, let thorn both get up, but not till 
they had promised not to tread on the toes of 
himself or hts Hen. 
Later m the evening tliev came to an im, and 
because they could not travel farther that eve¬ 
ning, and because the Duck had hurt her foot 
very much, and staggered from side to side, they 
turned in. The landlord at first made many ob¬ 
jections, saying hts house was already full; he 
thought, too. that they were nobody of any con¬ 
sequence ; but at last, after they had made many 
fine speeches, and promised that he should have 
the egg which the Hen had laid on the road, and 
tue one which the Duck laid every day. he said 
that they might remain over the night. 
So when they had refreshed themselves, they 
held a great revel and tumult; but early In tho 
morning, when everybody was asleep and It was 
still dark, the cock awoke tbe lien, and retching 
the egg, they broke It, and ale it togetUor, throw¬ 
ing the shell away into the hearth. They then 
went to the Needle, who was still asleep, and, 
taking him by the head, stuck him In the cushion 
ot the landlord's chair, and the Pin they put fn 
his towel, and then they flew off over the fields 
and away The Duck, who had gone to sleep In 
the open air, and had stopped In the yard, heard 
them fly past, and getting up quickly, found a 
pond, Into which she waddled, and In which she 
swam much taster than she walked when she 
had to pull the carriage. A couple of hours later 
the laudlord rose ufl from his feather-bed, 
washed himself, and took up the towel to wipe 
himself dry; then the Pin, lu passing over hts 
face, made a red scratch from one ear to the 
other; so he wont Into the kitchen to light his 
pipe, but Just as he stepped on the hearth the 
egg-shells sprang Into his eyes. “This morning 
everything happens unlucky to me,” said he, 
sitting down In vexation In his grand father's 
chair; but he quickly Jumped up again, crying, 
"Woe’s me!” for thu Needle had pricked hint 
very badly. This drove hlrn completely wild, 
and he laid thu mischief on the guests who had 
arrived so late the evening before, and when he 
went out to look after them they were gone. So 
he swore that he would never again take such a 
pack of ragamuffluB Into his house, who destroyed 
so much, paid no reckoning, and played mischiev¬ 
ous tricks in the place or thanks. 
- 444 - 
THE DUTIES OF SCHOLARS. 
Theke Is much said about tho duties which the 
scholar owes his teacher. The teachers give 
their pupils many bints concerning duty, hut 
very seldom do they speak of the duties which 
the student owes his fellow student. At one time 
a scholar will become angry at his teacher, and 
thinking to revenge himself, will do wrong re¬ 
peatedly, not dreaming of tiie harm he may be 
doing his schoolmates. 
Scholars ought always to be punctual. This is 
one or tho duties they owe each other. How dis¬ 
agreeable It Is for a scholar to come Btalking Into 
the school-room just after the morning exercises 
have begun ! He dlsturba t he whole school, and 
uuless all work Is stopped until he takes his seat., 
there Is so much noise and confusion that only a 
few, If any, can hear or remember anything 
which the teacher is reading. Thus tho tardy 
scholar is not tne only loser, for he prevents his 
schoolmates from gaining the good which they 
might If undisturbed The pest of a class-room 
Is a student who is always late to class. I re¬ 
member a young lady' who was in my Algebra 
class, aud she was Invariably late. Sbe left chap¬ 
el at the same lime the others did, aud had as 
much time to reach class as others, yet she never 
came In till after roll-call. It did not Beern to oc¬ 
cur to her that she was Infringing on the right of 
her fellow-students. Students owe each other 
patience. They owe this lu all their school-work. 
If there Is a dull scholar In class who really tries 
to learn, It. la the duty of his companions to be pa¬ 
tient. If he does not understand an explanation 
or some part of the lesson and requires some one 
to explain it, he should do It patiently and kindly, 
and not with a frowu on his race, for often that 
hurts the questioner so much that ho cannot un¬ 
derstand or think about the explanation, even If 
It is given clearly and precisely. Kaoh student 
should do his own work as nearly aB possible, and 
very seldom ought ho to ask for outside help. 
Each and ovoty scholar should dare to say no! 
OCteu this Is hard to do. For Instance, Charley 
and Will are in the same Arithmetic class. Will 
studies carefully and thoughtfully and complete¬ 
ly masters his lessons. Charley knows this, and 
ovenlng after evening goes to Will, asking him to 
do his examples or help him to do them. Will 
works his examples, and by looking them over 
a few times, he is quite well prepared to write 
his lesson the next day; but very likely Id three 
days he cannot do one ot them. 'This la doing 
Charley much harm; It Is hurting his memory 
and he Is losing his Independence. Even now, he 
could not recite his lesson at all without Will’s 
assistance In preparing It. Is It not Will’s duty 
to refuse to help him ? Each scholar should pre¬ 
pare his lessone well and thoughtfully. One or 
two In a class, without good.lessons, half kill the 
Interest or the others and makes the teacher Im¬ 
patient. Scholars should not work for their own 
The Detroit Free l’ress Has been devoting Its 
genius to natural history for very young people, 
and directly under the picture of an uncommonly 
sorry-looklng Jack Is the follovdrtg “lesson 
" What do 1 see here V" 
“It Is a dodo, my boy—one of the largest and 
finest specimens ever seen.” 
“ But I thought the dodo was extinct?” 
“ Oh, no. Borne men, on account of family re¬ 
semblance, have evinced a disposition to bury the 
dodo In obscurity.” 
“ Didn’t tbe dodo used to Lave wings and fly ?” 
“ He did, but as he was ot no account among 
the birds he was given two extra legs and de¬ 
prived of his wlogs.” 
“ Where is he now found ?’’ 
“ Travelers can hardly run amiss of him when¬ 
ever they go.” 
“ How does be cdJ ay himself!” 
“ In various ways, one ot wnich Is In assuming 
the pasltlonseen In the above cut. It tickles 
him Immensely to get that way and then have 
fifteen or twenty men try to move him along the 
highway.” 
“ But why does the dodo have such long ears ?’ 
“ lie was either first Intended for a rabbit, or 
the rabbit was first intended for a dodo, and 
Nature could never fully unravel the mystery. 
If bis ears were small, like those or a horse, he 
could not stand and flop them when ho had an 
Idle hour, and would, perhaps, resort to some 
vicious practice, like cribbing aud kicking.” 
“ Is his song anything like the sad notes of the 
whip-poor-will?" 
“Not a bit. When you hear the sad notes of 
the bird you named you think or some dear dead 
frleud. When you hear the si mins of the dodo 
you think of Rome dear friend who ought to be 
dead for not coming around with bis shot-gun 
and a full bag of swau shot. The song of the 
dodo, when first rising on ibe midnight breeze, la 
as soft and sweet as the sound of a buck-saw 
striking a nail, but as they float, further and 
faster the strains seem to grab each other by the 
hair and you feel as If a tarantula was walking 
up your spinal column." 
*• Does a dodo kick the same as a mule ?” 
“ lie does not. Ho could It he wanted to, but it 
would be too much of an effort." 
“ WUat Is the prevailing color?” 
"A fashionable gray. One of them standing 
against a rog-bauk may slug all night and not be 
hit with a brick-bat.” 
“Do they prefer mountainous countries or low 
lands ?” 
"They have no choice. If they find the gar¬ 
den gate opeu they would not stop to see whether 
a Balkan Range divided the land. If one of them 
should fall over a precipice he would stay right 
where he struck Instead of hunting up new terri¬ 
tory.” 
aljfeat! ^failing. 
HERE Ain I, 0 LORD, SEND ME. 
J. K. RANKIN, D. D. 
I havh cot r.n angel's tongue, 
Skilled in winning 3peech or song; 
Weighty worda ,.t uiy command, 
Pleas fallacious to withstand— 
Is there not some little chili 
I can win from paths defiled ? 
Weak, unworthy though I be, 
Hers am I, C Lord send me. 
I ct.nno* the sickle wield. 
In the no;n-day harvest field; 
Bear the burdens of the day, 
Garner loaded wuins away 
I can only Hoop and glean 
Where more stalwai tVomis have been. 
Weak, unworthy £ 10 ugh I be, 
Here am I, O Lord, send mo. 
I cannot the a word gird on, 
If there’s viet’ry to ho won ; 
When lias obbecl the battle shout, 
I can seek the wounded out; 
SootLc the dying: make the bed 
Of the sad aud lonely dead. 
Weak, unworthy though I be. 
Here am I, O Lord, Bend me. 
Send, C Lord, i_y whom thou wilt! 
Cleanse tilts world of woe and guilt! 
Where tho boats of error low’r, 
Clothe thy chosen owes with pow'r: 
In the Kingdom of thy grace. 
Give totno sonv humble place. 
Weak, uuvrorthy though I be. 
Here am I. O Lord, send me. 
O'. S. Times 
- — 444 - ■ 
CONSCIENCE VOID OF OFFENCE. 
“Herein do ! ermrcWe tnyself, to have always a 
conscience void of o 'once toward God and toward 
men.”—arts xxl7. 1". 
What is conscience? The indicator of our do¬ 
ings; the tablet on which are writ all our deeds, 
good and bad. Ve find a good conscience spoken 
of seven or eight times In the New Testament. 
In this portion ot the Acts Paul speaks of “a 
conscience void of oJenee toward God, and 
toward men.” r et us see If we can understand 
what the apostle meant. 
The conscience that sod has given us Is the 
guide of our lives when It Is “ veld of offence.” 
Paul meant that he always acted so that his con¬ 
science did rot reproach him, and, more than 
that, so mat Ills conscience approved ot what ho 
did, “ Void of offence,”—that which Is offensive, 
or might cause another to stumble, lie kept Uls 
conscience so ureaml enlightened In regard to 
duty, that he acted In accordance to Us dictates, 
and tils conduct was not displeasing to God nor 
In j minus to men, “ Toward God,”—he endeavor j 
ed to discharge all the duties or public and pri¬ 
vate worship, did cci stantly what, God required, 
believing all ’’ehaa said, and doing all mat uo 
approves. 
Let me try and show yea what I mean by act¬ 
ing bo that the conscience approves. 
There was e. lad in Ireland who worked at a lin¬ 
en manufactory, ami one day a piece of cloth was 
wanted to Ibe leant out which was lound to be 
shorter than *t ought to be. Tbe master thought 
It. might be mad 1 the proper length by a little 
stretching. He unrolled the clotb, and, taking 
one end Ulmsel . told the hoy to take the other. 
“ Pull, Adam, pull," said the master. The master 
pulled with a’.! Uls might, but tbe boy stood still. 
“Puli, Adam, pull,”said Ills master again. “I 
can’t,”said ti e boy. “Why not 1" s:tId the master. 
“Because It’s wrong,”sild the boy, and ho re¬ 
fused to pull. Cl3 m ister dlscharg Hi him. That 
boy became Dr. A lam Clarke. Ills conscience 
approved of what he did. It was the purity of 
his conscience that enabled him so to act, 
could we, In as simple a thing as that, act as 
he did ? 
Paul says, “ Herein do I exercise myself, to 
have always a conscience void ot offence toward 
God and toward men.” But how toward men? 
What does It matter to om* fellow-crea'urcs 
wbeiher we have a conscience void of offence or 
not? Having it toward men Is endeavoriugto 
meet all the demands of justice and love; to 
promote their nippiness, knowledge, and salva¬ 
tion ao that wo may look back on our lives with 
the re flection that we have done our duty; so 
that we may have nothing to reproaffi ourselves 
for. nothing of this kind to make a doath-bed 
miserable. 
Now how had Paul come to speak with such 
certainty about this matter. " Herein, do I,” elc. 
He had round, through constant study and prac¬ 
tice, that ho could, trusting lu God, so act as not 
to have an accusing conscience. u. t 
—--4-4-4- 
TEE LITTLE ORPHAN. 
When I was In Europe Mr. Spurgeon told me a 
story of a boy who was In au orphan asylum. 
Thin little boy came up to Mr. Spurgeon and said: 
“Mr. Spurgeon, would you allow me to speak to 
you?" He said, “Certainly, got upon my knee." 
The little fellow gotJup and said: “Mr. Spur¬ 
geon, supposing that your mother was dead, and 
that your father was (load; and that you were 
put Into this Institution, and that there were 
other little .boys that had no father or mother, 
but they had cousins and uncles and aunts, and 
they brought them frulta and candy and a lot of 
tbtugs. Don't you think that you would feel bad? 
’Cause that’s me.” Why, Mr. Spurgoou put his 
hand tn bis pocket and gave the little fellow some 
money light off. The little fellow had pleaded 
his cause well. When men como 10 God and teU 
their story—1 don’t oare how vile you are, I don't 
care how far down you have got, I don’t care how 
far off you have wandered—If you will tell it. all 
Into His ear, the relief will come.— Moody's Child 
Stories, 
Watt a hit, and It wto^ll 
selfish Interests alone, but should be o Mlging and 
ready to work wherever duty calls them. 
A COUSIN. 
THE DODO. 
