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10.
; nd limbs were thin, so that he resembled a wild
animal more than man. Strength failed him, He
felt that life was passing away, and that a painful,
lingering death of starvation awaited him. ~ Still
he carefully kept his tin box. +
One day whilst in this feeble condition he
thought he saw smoke slowly rising above the dis-
tant trees, How his heart throbbed within him!
He looked again and again, shading his eyes with
his hand, until be was’ satisfied that there was no
deception. Yes, it was smoke. Some one. had
kindled a fire. It might be Frenchmen. It might
be Indians. He hastened to approach it, but in
making the effort fell to the ground. - He was too
weak to walk, so he slowly crept; then rested,
then dragged himself _ painfully ‘along. Then
he tried to shout, but was too feeble to make the
least sound, and all the while keeping his eye
riveted upon the light blue smoke rising gracefully
to the sky.. After a long time, and with many
pauses for breath, he finally got sufficiently near to
(fee that they were three Indians, cooking a piece
‘of venison, whose hissing sound and savory smell,
as the juice dropped upon the burning embers, was
peculiarly grateful to his famished “enses. The
erecking of a dry twig on which { nressed at-
*racted the attention of the Indians; and awoke
frie suspicions. All three sprang to their feet,
seized their arms, and rushed toward Belleisle
to slay him. _ But when they saw his wretched
.condition, and how earnestly he implored their pity,
they concluded to spare his life. ‘They invited him
to approach the fire, and partake of their fare.
They remained encamped in that place until he re-
gained his strength, and then took him with them
to their village. Ife was there made a slave, and
was obliged to sweep the huts of his owners; clean
their weapons; till their lands; cook their victuals,
and perform all kinds of drudgery. . :
His masters had permitted him to keep his small
tin box. But one day some Indian thief stole
this coveted article and carried it off. Belleisle
soon missed it.. He looked every where for it, but
¢ to no purpose. It was gone and he never expected
(to see it again.. As he had kept it amid all his
? wanderings, and as it contained the commission
{ by which he was appointed an officer in the French
army, its loss was a great affliction to him. _
[Near this tribe of Indians was another tribe,
‘called the Assinais. These Assinais lived in Texas,
! not far from the French settlement of Natchitoches,
{with whom they were in the habit of trading. One
iday the thief who had stolen the box met one of
these Assinais Indians and offered to sell it to him.
:He told the Indian he got it from a Frenchman who
{was a prisoner and held as a slave by his tribe.
ke Assinais bought it, therefore, for speculation.
Seeing it contained papers, he thought he might sell
it at good profit to the French at Natchitoches. - So
[i took it down there. When it was exhibited to
}
the French it created great excitement. St. De
: nis, the commander at that place, hearing about it,
and learning that it contained papers, ordered the
Indian to bring it to him. He did so, - Upon open-
j ing it he found that it contained an officer's com-
i mission. He then inquired of the Indian where he
\ got it and what he knew about it? The Indian
* told him all he knew—that it belonged to a French-
| man who was held a captive by one of the interior
| tribes of Indians. St. Dennis then sent some In-
* dians to ransom the prisoner from his Indian sla-
_yery.’” Indue time they returned bringing Belleisle
with them. When the poor captive found himself,
once more among his own people, when he could
hea? his own language, his joy knew no bounds.
He became for a time the hero of the settlement, as
? every one wanted to hear the narrative of his wan-
; derings and captivity. : The stealing of his tin box,
eR, tet em, sr cee
ON eee 0 EN oni mana: eer aremcraerwnay, = sm
4 which he regarded as such a great affliction, proved
o be a great blessing. . It was the means of his
deliverance. - God brought good out of evil.
-“Did the ship with the convicts ever arrive?”
asked Edward. © « . :
- “No,” replied Mr. Striker, “it was never heard
from again. . It probably foundered at sea.” 3B. .
+8
“STARCH” REMOVED.
, Be definite in’ all your inquiries, and simple in
your habits. When men stand too much upon
their dignity, they are sometimes made to stand
too long. The bank teller in this anecdote allowed
his waggery to lead him into an uncivil act, but
the pedier received a lesson he will probably re-
member, and so may the reader: . vs
‘An example, says Harper's Weekly, of what is
often termed “taking the starch out,” happened re-
cently in a country bank in New England. A
. pompous, well-dressed individual entered the bank,
and, addressing the teller, who is something of a
wag, inquire: PE bare
“Is the cashier in P”_ - |
“No, sir,” was the reply.
+ Well, Iam dealing in pens, supplying the New
England banks pretty largely, end I suppose it will
be proper for me to deal with the cashier.”
- “E suppose it will,” said the teller, 2°. =
. ae
« re
“Very well; I will wait. ,
The pen-pedler took a chair, and sat composedly
for a full Four, waiting for the cashier. By that
— le * -e , :
THE YOUTIVS.
time he began to grow uneasy, but sat twisting in
his chair for about twenty minutes, and, seeing no
prospect of a change in his circumstances, asked
the teller how soon the cashier would be in.
“Well, I don’t know exactly,” said the waggish
teller, “but I expect him in about six weeks. He
has just gone to Lake Superior, and told me he
thought he should come back in that time.”
Pedler thought he would not wait.
““O, stay if you wish,” said the teller, very
blandly. “We have no objection to your sitting
here in the day time, and you can probably find
some place in town where they will be glad to keep
you nights. a
The pompous pedler disappeared without reply.
“SCRAPS FOR YOUTH:
THE WELL-THUMBED PAGE.
How a reverend head, set lowly,
Weighted with the toil of years,
Rises to me, ever holy,
With the past of bliss and tears!
;, How, with memory's fond precision,
“ Flashing childhood back on age,
Comes a tender, thankful vision
Of a loved and trusted page !
At my father’s knee with wonder,
Oft with wonder and with awe,
Did 1 list as Sinai’s thunder.
Pealed its sanction to the Law.
Oft I seemed to
an earthly dwellings
God had pitched His tent with man!
As my father read the story,
‘rowning all the wondrous whole,
Gleamed his face with prophet glory
it his soul.
‘This from angnish resened sadness;
God, the Christ of God, was near!
Forth he looked on plain and river,
They, he knew, were made for him,
Since that time, whate'er betide me,
This is still my stay divine:
I've my father’s Book beside me,
And my father’s God is mine!
Churchman's Magazine.
+0
For the Companton.
THE “SEMINARY GIRLS.”
The slanting rays of the setting sun fell through
searlet maple branches upon the platform of the
little station-house at Rockville, and were broken
by the restless movements of a dozen girls, who
were endeavoring to pass away the time, which
seemed to them interminable, until the arrival of
the up train. It was the first day of the fall term,
and the evening train was expected to bringa large
addition to the number of “seminary girls,” ”
“I hear them—no, it’s only a wagon.”* “There's
the whistle.” “Yes, but it was three miles off.”
“I wonder if there will be any new girls,” and in
wondering and wishing the time wore away, till at
length the ponderous engine, puffing as if exhausted
with its labors, paused beside the depot. Then
followed a few moments of confusion, with such
greetings as only boarding school girls ever give or
receive, and it was not until the cars were again in
motion that two girls were noticed standing some-
what apart, silent spectators of the scene. .
“New girls,” whispered Kitty Clark; to one of
her companions, :
“Yes, I suppose they feel like ‘cats in -a strange
garret,’” was the reply. ‘ :
“Humph! dignity on two sticks,” said another,
as the strangers, perceiving the curiosity they were
attracting, turned and walked towards the semi-
nary, the elder with a particularly independent
step. oe : oe
Girls soon get acquainted when they are together
every day, and by the end of the week all the
scholars -knew that Kate Lovell and Annie Snow
were cousins; that Kate’s father had adopted Annie
when her own father died years before; and that
Kate was’ sixteen, and Annie nearly fifteen years
of age. . . - .
“I think Kate Lovell is splendid.” [School girls
always admire the word splendid.] ‘“I think Kate
Lovell is splendid,” said Clara Loring to her room
mate, Abby Lincoln, “What elegant eyes she has!
and she carries her head like a queen. She knows
something, too." Didn’t she take the wind out of
Fan Smith’s sails when she was showing off her
French this morning ?” . - pe
' “Annie Snow seems to be a good little thing,”
said Abby.” Be a
~ “Good enough, I dare say,” doubtfully replied
Clara, “but I haven’t heard her say a bright thing
since she came.” “= ans .
COMPANION..2 |
“Nor I; but I haven't heard: her say an ill-na-
tured thing, either.” ~ te
At first Clara’s opinion was the opinion of all the
girls. There was about Kate an independence and
originality, something in the poise of her. well-
formed head and the self-possession of her manner,
“joined to the fact that in scholarship she ranked
first in her class, that gained for her the admiration
of her companions. But as time passed she be-
came better known. With a quick perception of
character, a ready wit, and an unusual command of
language, she fell into the temptation common to
persons of her temperament, and her best friends
were not unfrequently sacrificed to her love of ridi-
cule.-, Dearly as the girls liked at times to hear
her unsparing criticisms directed against some un-
popular member of the school, there was not one
who did not stand in dread of becoming the sub-
ject of her sarcasms. “The worst of it is, that she
always says something that is unanswerable,” said
Kitty Clark, who had a feeling sense of Kate's
talent in this direction, + .
Annie Snow’s character was of an entirely dif-
ferent cast. With no pretensions to beauty, with in:
tellectual powers far inferior to those of her cousin,
and with no one thing to distinguish her from the
mass of her associates, she attracted little or no at-
tention during’ the first part of the term, but after
awhile it was found that whenever any accident
occurred to person or property, Annie was always
the first to proffer sympathy and assistance. If any
-disagreement had crept in between friends, or any
slight misunderstanding bade fair to widen into a se-|
rious estrangement, it was always Annie, who, with-
out taking either side, remained friendly to both,
and not unfrequently acting the part of peacemaker,
brought the parted ones into a friendship stronger
than before. When asked, one day, how she man-
aged to be on friendly terms with every one, she
said “O, I don't know, I always find something to
like in everybody. What's the use of looking for
faults in people? It’s as much as I can do to attend
to my own.”
A year had passed, when a change in Mr. Lov-
ell’s residence caused him to recall his daughter
and niece, .
. Again a group of girla were gathered upon the
leaf-strewn platform, to await the coming of the
train which should bear away the cousins to their
new home. While Annie turned away to conceal
the tears that fell thickly, as one after another of,
her schoolmates crowded round her for a last kiss,
Kate stood gaily talking and laughing, and every
now and then, even in this parting hour, she uttered
a cutting word that wounded as it struck, and the
slight curl of contempt upon her lips was almost
constantly visible.
, “I wouldn’t have believed,’ said Clara Loring
that night, as, passing a mirror, she caught a glimpse
of her glazed cheeks and heightened color, “that I
should ever have cried about Annie Snow’s going
home. I used to think she was so stupid and Kate
so ‘splendid.’ ” ~ . ala
“I have read somewhere”, replied Abby, “that
good-natured stupidity is preferable to ill-natured
wit, and I believe it is true, for here are one half
the girls crying their eyes out for Atnie Snow, and
there isn’t one of them that isn’t secretly glad that
Kate has gone, much as they admire her.”
CHICKENS COMING HOME TO ROOST,
was then very diligent in business, careful and
frugal of expenses. IIe had an industry that never
tired, and would often publish great works that no
other man dared touch. ‘: wf
Years passed away, and he had become a man—
had risen in wealth and influence till he was mayor
of the city in which he resided, and was the acting
Governor of the proud State that gave him birth,
And on these high places he was not giddy, but
was the same pains-taking man that he had ever
been—universally respected and greatly honored.
he met a young man who was qualified
for a valuable office under the United States gov-
ernment, but had no friends to aid him’
“Whose son are'you ?” asked the mayor. | - !
“The son of —,” was the answer.’
~ “Was old Mr. —— your grandfather P? ~--=
“Yes, sir.’ + rey ft prey
“I remember him well.’ * He it was who gave me
kind words of encouragement when I needed them
most! I attribute most of my success to those few
words that dropped from his lips, * Young man, if
in my power, you shall haye the office, out of grat-
itude to your grandfather !” +s
way posted the mayor to Washington, and
soon returned with the appointment in his pocket.
—S. S. Times. 0» - . bs
i Se tee ae
ADVENTURE IN AFRICA,
Last night I was startled out of my sleep by a
dreadful shriek, such as J had never heard uttered
by any human being before. ‘ The thought at once
struck me that the two lions which had given us
such trouble on a former occasion were again prowl-
ing about, and had perhaps seized some of the
ushmen lately come to pay me a visit, who were
encamped at the back of my kraal. ‘- .
Snatching up my rifle and pistol, I bounded out
of bed, and soon found my suspicions confirmed by
the dismal howls and wailings of several terrified
bushmen, whom I met hastening ‘towards my wag-
on for protection.’ A poor lad whom we had cap-
tured the day before was giving vent to his distress
in piteous lamentations for the loss of his father,
whom one of the lions had destroyed. Calling to
some of my people to follow, I hurried away in the
direction pointed out by this fellow. . .
e night, in itself intensely dark, received an
additional deep gloom from the sbadow of a cluster
of thick-boughed trees under which we were en-
camped. In order, therefore, to throw some light
on surrounding objects, we set fire to our temporae
¥ huts and commenced our search. Mr.’ Hahn
also came to our assistance with a lantern; the
dogs meantime kept up a furious barking; yet,
with the certain knowledge that the brute was only
a few paces distant from us, we could not obtain a
glimpse of the cowardly murderer, © °° >
At length, to the horror of us all, we stumbled
on the mangled remains of the unfortunate bush-
man who had fallen a victim to the monster. One
of his arms was bitten short off at the shoulder,
whilst his hand still convulsively clutched a portion
of his dress. ‘This, and a small portion of his in-
testines, was all that remained of a man aliye and
quite unconscious of the fate that awaited him
only a few minutes before. The sight was both
shocking and sickening in the extreme, and as it
was now useless to continue a further search in the
dark, we returned: to our respective bivouacs,
Sleep was, of course, out of the question,
dreadful scene haunted my imagination unceasingly,
and I resolved, as soon as the day should dawn, io
pursue the terrible man-eater, and terminate, if pos-
sible, his existence, . ,
* Although ‘this chase proved unsuccessful, ‘the
man-eater and several others of his kind were
shortly afterwards encountered. One of the lions
was some distance in the rear of the other, and
being closely pursued by two of the dogs, he was
brought speedily to bay.’ Now was my time, and
stepping smartly out, I’ was soon within fifty pac
of my mark, when, stooping down, I took a bet
erate aim with the rifle, and fi
passed through both the animal’s shoulders, and he
Many years ago, a poor boy was walking one of
the many crooked streets of Boston, on his way to
the printing office. He was an apprentice in that
office, without friends or home, or any one to care
for him. ‘He had met with some rebuff that day,
and felt discouraged. There was no one to cheer
shim when he tried to do well, and many to blame
him when he did not try. As he slowly moved
toward his place of work, an old gentleman’ met
him and spoke to him...’ < pid
“Is your name Samuel?”
“Yes, sir.” . - .
. “And your father’s name was John —, was it
not?”
“It was, sir; but he is dead.”
“Is your mother living ?” :
No, sire” 1... .
» “Well, are you alone in the world, without friends
or property P?
“I have neither, sir.” :
“Nor have I many or much. But let me say,
Samuel, that you can do well without either.. You
ave a young heart, strong limbs, good health, and
you have only to earn a good character, and you
will bea man. It is all in your own power. You
can make yourself just what you choose to be. I
have watched you and noticed that you are sober
and industrious, and have too much self-respect to
0 in bad company. Continue to do so, and you
pill be all that you want to be. Remember, m
oy, that your character is j i
bey: tl s ‘S$ in your own keeping.
i The old man passed on, and so did the appren-
‘ice. i
new hope and courage. And from that day he be-
gan to develop more character, and more that was
manly. Faithfully he served out the time of his
apprenticeship, though often hi ,
cn tices i tho ig! ten he had not a whole
met him years after this, when he was in bust-
ness for himself, printing and a book-store. He
fell, managing nevertheless to raise himself on his
haunches, in hich sition, growling hideously, he
lashed alternately his sides ai i
rea emma ly nd the ground furious-
I therefore, followed by Bonfield, advanced far-
ther. towards him, and was about to put an end to
is struggles, when the other lion, who had stationed
himself in the rear, in a thick bush a hundred yards
or 80 off, came bounding along with a ferocity of
wen ¢ Iwas then ina
neeling posture, in a perfectly exposed situation,
about twenty Yards distant from his wounded com-
anion. Charging past his crippled mate, this in-
luriated brute made directly at me,
rifle I did not budge an inch. Levelling at the
broad chest of my assailant, I pulled the fewer
when—imagine the horror and consternation of the
moment—my rifle missed fire, and missed again,
and again! “His next bound or two would, it
seemed inevitable, bring me within the monster’s
Stipe; but, whether terror-stricken at my defiant
attitude, or at the click of my weapon, he turned
abruptly off to the right, and Was in a few seconds
back in his former hiding place, the bush, where he
was lost completely to view.
. 4 RIDE UNDER THE CARs.
Let our readers who’ are accustomed to say “I
v7 oo
can’t,” see from this story, told by a correspondent
i
of the Western Advocate, that seeming imposs:
ties can be Overcome, when one is determined to
succeed. The boy was foolish to endanger his life,
but he exhibited a strength of purpose that, if ex-
ercised in the right direction, will make a “man of
him .”
You have seen a boy asleep in his trundle-bed,
one leg straight, the other bent to the shape of the
letter V, his mouth wide open, and his snoring just