A TOUCHING INCIDENT. "On giving me the square, he wished to know how it was possible thus to converse with persons at a distance, I gave him all the explanation I could, but it was to him such a mystery that he actually tied a string to the chip, hung it round his neck, and wore it for some time. For several days after, we frequently saw him surrounded by a crowd, who were listening with intense interest while he told them of the wonders which this chip had performed." A TOUCHING INCIDENT. "NEARLY all of the ornaments in this room have a story attached to them," I said to a friend, as she was admiring an exquisite little bust of Charles Dickens, that stood on the top of one of the bookcases in my library. "One sunny day last autumn, a little Italian boy came along to my door, with a basket of plaster of Paris wares on his head. They were very pretty, and the children almost went wild over them, as country children always do over any unusual display. "You have no bust of Dickens?' I said to the little fellow, after I had looked over the articles, and had bought a lovely vase. "Deekens?' he said, in his funny, broken English, looking puzzled at first, but presently a smile broke over his fair, bronzed young face, as he went on, 'Deekens' busto-write stories-little Nell-no.' Then pointing out of the window, he said, 'Snow come-I bring him not then. Snow all go away, I come again; then I bring Deekens, lady.' "We were preparing grapes for preserving, and when Minnie gave him a nice large bunch, which, running out into the garden, she had picked from the trellis purposely for him, and I had given him a few pleasant words, the gratification he showed was touching to see. "Le sono infinitamente obligato,' I am ever so much obliged to you' he said, the tears glistening in his shining black eyes. 'God bless ladees!' he continued, bowing and smiling, and turning around to bow again as he passed out of the yard. We spoke of him several times during the winter, and planned, idly, as we then thought, where our prospective bust of the great story-teller should be placed. One pleasant morning in May, as I was assisting John in getting my flower-beds ready for the bulbs and seeds, heard the latch in the door-yard gate rattle, and turning around, saw another plaster of Paris vendor coming up the walk, smiling ANECDOTES OF RATS. pleasantly, as he placed his lone tray of busts and vases upon the ground. 66 "My thoughts immediately flew to the little Italian boy who had called the autumn previous, and seemed so grateful for the bunch of grapes my sister had given him, and had promised us to bring the bust of Dickens. But this young Italian man was not the same person; although he resembled him very much, he was a good deal older. "I haf bring ze bust of Deekens to ze lady,' he said, bowing, as I approached him. 666 But you are not the one who was to bring it?' "No, no, lady,' he replied, very sadly; he was my brodder. He now in heafen. He died, it vas so cold. But he say many times, Some day ze cold snow go away, and I sal carry ze busto of Deekens to ze lady where ze grapes grow.' But he died, and I haf come to carry it.' 666 666 How did you find the place,' we asked, as we brushed away the tears we could not suppress at the touching little recital. Oh, he told me, my brodder, to come by ze church wiz ze clock, and ze yellow house, and I sal come to ze house wiz many grapevines-one in ze apple tree, wiz ze seat under it.' "How much shall I pay you for the Dickens?' I asked, as I handed the bust to my sister, and started to go for my portemonnaie. 666 Notting, notting; you speak so kind to my little brodder, and she,' pointing to my sister, did gif him ze sweet grapes, and he was so tired and so home-sick-and he come here not again; oh, I sal now go!' And the poor Italian, with the tears streaming down his olive cheeks, hurriedly turned away. Before we could speak a word of comfort to him, he had replaced the tray upon his head, and trudged along alone with his grief." ANECDOTES OF RATS. MANY instances have been recorded of the display of intelligence by rats, to which we beg leave to add the following:-A farmer's wife in the west of Scotland remarked that the cream on the surface of the milk in her dairy was often interferred with. At first she suspected that some of her children had taken the unwarrantable liberty of dipping pieces of bread into it, but she could find nothing to confirm this suspicion; and by-and-by she noticed strange little streaks of cream on the edges of the milk-basins, as ANECDOTES OF RATS. if a string had been dipped in and drawn out, so as to leave a mark. At last she discovered the secret. The cream was stolen by rats, which got upon the edges of the earthenware basins containing the milk, and not being able to reach down to it, a depth of several inches, nor daring to attempt to go down, as they could never have climbed up the smooth surface again, dipped in the tips of their long tails, drew them up loaded with the rich cream, and licked them. An arrangement of the basins, such that the rats could not get upon the edges of them, put an end to all further depredations of this kind. There was surely something more than instinct in this case in the procedure of the rats. We have something still to tell regarding the ingenuity of rats. A family in a country-house in Hertfordshire had a fancy for rearing ducks, but could not well do so on account of rats, which systematically got hold of and carried away the young ducklings, even from close to their mother. With a view to circumvent the rats, the maternal duck and her young were housed for the night under a coop, which admitted of no opening for the furtive intruders. The rats were not to be so easily cheated of their prey. On discovering that the mother-duck and her family were closely shrouded from intrusion, they devised a pretty plan of engineering, which was eminently successful. In the course of a single night they excavated a tunnel, going below the outer edge of the coop to its interior, and thus very neatly, without producing any alarm, stole every duckling from under the guardianship of the mother. Two rats belonging to the same colony performed a feat quite as ingenious. A trap which was baited for their capture was habitually plundered without securing a single rat. They had evidently invented some plan for safely stealing away the bait, and what the plan was could only be learned by setting a watch on the trap. We shall explain how the theft was effected. The trap was of the kind which is sometimes employed for catching mice. It was a box with a sliding door, which was sustained by mechanism connected with the bait; on the bait being nibbled at, the door descends and makes the mouse a prisoner. The two rats saw through the device, and resorted to the following very simple but effectual method to take away the bait, which was a piece of toasted cheese, and yet escape imprisonment. One of them placed itself under the door, so that it might fall on its back, while the other crept in and successfully carried off the morsel of cheese. The first rat then drew itself from under the door, and joined its companion. This demonstration of rat intelligence, like the preceding incident, is of recent occurrence.-Chamber's Journal. POETRY. Poetry. THE UNSPOKEN NAME. And Jacob asked Him and said, Tell me, I pray thee, Thy name. And he said, Wherefore is it that thou dost ask after my name?-Gen. xxxii. 29. O! WONDROUS Guest, divinely fair, and bright! My soul hath wrestled with Thee through the night, Reveal, I pray Thee now, Thy name to me. For my repentance Thou hast waited long, How oft, reclining on my restless bed, I heard Thee knocking, knocking evermore- But now, I pray Thee, enter and abide Is radiant with the glory of Thy face. Reveal Thy name to me, O Friend divine, For Thou and I henceforth no more must part. Tell me if mortal lips have formed a word So sweet, so holy, it may be Thy name— Speak it to me, and make my joy the same. A SAW-MILL ON THE RIVER HUDSON, AMERICA. THE Hudson is the name of a great river in the United States of America. It is very long and very fine. Some men who have seen the river called the Rhine think the river Hudson is finer. All along on the banks, as you go by them in the steamboats, you may see something to make you look, and look again, until your eyes begin to ache by looking so much. Here will be seen a tall, rough hill; and there another, that rises up out of the river like a high straight wall, only ever so many hundred feet high. Then you see rich and smiling green meadows, and then thick woods with their dark leaves. In the end of the summer these leaves look very gay and bright. |