TH

HERE was very little sleep for any of us that night. The Indians did not return to disturb us; but we were too much excited to sleep quietly, however much we might be fatigued. In addition to this cause of wakefulness, we were seriously alarmed at the condition of Captain Barnes, who was suffering severely from his wound. Professor Larned, Bill Bucket, Dan Cooper, and Buffalo Horn all gathered about him; and, as each of them was possessed of skill in the treatment of wounds, we felt that the captain would be well cared for. Still, we could not sleep; and we sat in the darkness in silence, wide awake, or conversing in low tones, until broad daylight.

Before morning, however, we were much relieved by being informed that Captain Barnes was in no danger of dying, and would recover steadily, though it might be very slowly. As for old Gum and Charley Franks, they were both doing finely, and neither of them seemed to care any more for their wounds than you would care for a burnt finger.

Charley Franks said it would be something to brag of, all the rest of his life, in fashionable circles in New York, that he had been actually shot by a live Indian's real arrow.

"I wouldn't mind being shot myself," said Fred, "if I could be sure it would get well, and not hurt a fellow too bad!"

With the coming of daylight we were on the alert, ready for another attack, but not really expecting it.

"If they come at all," said Bucket, "it will be arly this mornin'. Hist! I see a head!"

It was well we were ready for them, for the Camanches had come up as close as they dared, in the quiet of the night, so as to be ready to pounce down upon us if we were not prepared for them.

To show them that we were prepared, and that we were not going to take any more of their nonsense, Bucket fired at the head he saw lifted up cautiously from out the grass behind a knoll, and the owner of the head was prevented by that shot from ever lifting it again.

As soon as they were at a safe distance, Dan Cooper ran out as before, on his hands and knees, and scalped the last victim of his own rapacity.

We were on the move very soon after that. A litter was constructed for Captain Barnes, who was quite unable to walk; and, when the march was resumed, it was in the following order:

First of all rode the one-legged trapper Dan Cooper, with Professor Larned at his side. Next came Gum on Buffalo Horn's horse, and at his side Fred on his pony. Then came the litter, carried by myself and Buffalo Horn. The litter was made of two poles, about ten feet long, with three cross-pieces lashed to them, one in the centre, and the other two about eighteen inches from the ends. A blanket was secured firmly to this frame, and the captain placed upon it, under the centre crosspiece, which would prevent his falling out. Buffalo Horn walked in front, and I behind, between the ends of the poles, which we grasped with our hands. "The poles were so springy that they gave an easy motion to the litter; and the captain told us it was a very comfortable bed, and thanked us repeatedly for acting as his pack-mules.

"You are the gentlest trotting mute I ever saw," he said to me, with a laugh.

From this you will infer that the captain was in no very great danger, and was already feeling easier. This fact served to put us in high spirits, and as we walked along we congratulated ourselves that we had got off so nicely from our savage foe. If we had been left to ourselves, and had not been assisted in our strait by the timely arrival of the two trappers, it would have been the end of our journey, and I should not be alive now to tell the story, most probably.

Behind the litter came the wagon, drawn by the oxen, which labored steadily along, much refreshed by the long period of rest, which had been to us a period of danger, now happily passed. And close to the wagon one side, now behind, but always keeping a sharp lookout for the savages, rode Bill Bucket, with Charley Franks for a companion.

- now on

Thus we proceeded towards Bill Bucket's place, resting at intervals for breakfast and the midday meal, and relieving each other by turns in carrying the litter; and thus, late in the afternoon, we came to the home of Bill Bucket, which I will describe in another

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

ABOUT BELLS.

BY SAMUEL BURNHAM.

THERE HERE are many curious things about bells. The very name, in old times, meant to bawl or to bellow, and they have made much noise in the world. With their brazen tongues they tell of joy and sorrow, of war, of peace; they call to church, to marriage, to death, to work, to play, to school, to fire, to bed, and to rise. They mark the hours of passing time; and, whether at bright noonday or in the dark and quiet night, the stroke of the bell stops us in our thinking, as if with a sudden message from the unseen land.

No one knows when bells were first used; but it was a long time ago, for the Bible speaks of them in Exodus, and we hear them tinkling, and ringing all down the ages, sounding through the shadowy past; and we read of them in the palaces of kings, in the holy temples, in public and private places, even to the beggars with "rings on their fingers and bells on their toes." Sometimes they swung in church towers, sometimes shook out merry music on the heads of prancing horses, and sometimes hung as ornaments to dress. The "king's fool," or merry-andrew he whose sole business it was to make sport for his monarch -wore little bells dangling from his cap; and to wear the " cap and bells" became a common expression to apply to overfrivolous persons. "Foolscap" paper had its name from the early custom of paper-makers of representing the "cap and bells," in water lines, in the paper of that size, as a trade-mark. The name still remains, and sometimes is seen the quaint device, as in olden times.

The first bells were small, and were perhaps as often for ornament as for actual use; but, as time passed on, they were gradually applied to sacred purposes, and at length large bells were made for attracting the attention of the people, and for calling them to worship. The inventor of church bells is said to have been a Bishop Paulinus, who lived about fourteen hundred years ago. In primitive times, before these large bells were in use, we read that in Eastern countries the hours of sacred service were proclaimed by means of a rattle, or by striking with a stick upon a board. Not longer ago than the reign of Charles II. of England, in a comedy, the company assembled at a country house of the upper class are called to dinner by the cook knocking on the "dresser," or cupboard, with a rolling-pin.

It would be amusing to enumerate the dif

ferent purposes for which bells have been used in times past. For instance, one of the popes, Clement VII., had a beautiful silver bell for cursing aniinals. Its surface was covered with rich carvings of serpents, flies, grasshoppers, and other insects; and it was rung by the pope, in the belief that its sound would scatter these troublesome creatures. In those days people had strange beliefs, and bells were supposed to possess singular power, such as scattering diseases, driving away evil spirits, invoking good spirits; and the brazen metal was often well nigh worshipped. Popes and priests, kings and subjects, masters, mistresses, and servants, all have in turn served or been served by "the swinging and the ringing of the bells."

POETS' HOMES.

BY THOMAS POWELL.

Author of "The Blind Wife," "Florentine Tales," "Simon de Moutfort," "Confessions of the Ideal," "A New Spirit of the Age," "Love's Rescue," "Living Authors," &c. WORDSWORTH'S GRANDCHILDREN.

L'

ITTLE Willie, Wordsworth's grandson, was a very remarkable child, and caused much entertainment to the poet's guests; more to them, perhaps, than even to his family, who were as insensible to humor as the great poet was himself. We can conceive no atmosphere more uncongenial to the buoyant spirits of childhood than the domicile of Rydal Mount. Wordsworth had great sympathy with all the sounds of nature outside the house, from the bleat of a sheep, the low of a cow, to the maddening thunder of the cataract; but they must be in the open air. In his dwelling all noise was more or less frowned down, and with a grimness eminently puritanical.

Among Wordsworth's peculiarities was to walk up and down, especially in the evening, on a grass plot, named the Lawn, and which was in full view of the parlor window. Here, for more than an hour, at "the vesper time," would the old bard pace, with solemn steps, generally one hand in the bosom of his vest, or sometimes swinging them wildly about, as though he were battling with the elements, and all the while reciting some of his own verses. He was so totally lost to all surrounding objects while thus occupied, that it would have been possible to have served him as Joannes Schmidt, the artist, served his grandmother's dog- tied a tin kettle to the lapels of his coat-tails.

Little Willie, who was much impressed by

all his grandfather said or did, was very fond of imitating him, and would walk a few steps behind him, mimicking him with host wonderful fidelity. There the little fellow would stride after his grandfather, throwing his arms about, looking with great gravity, and repeating some nursery rhyme. Margaret Gillies was curious enough to question the miniature Wordsworth as to what he recited, and found out it was divided between

"Let dogs delight to bark and bite," &c., and

"Thirty days hath September,

April, June, and November," &c.

In the house his antics took the same complimentary form to his grandfather, being a sort of picturesque gymnastics, illustrating his poetry. He would sometimes drop himself off a chair, and say, “Now I am a cascade!" Then he would crawl on all fours on the ground, saying, "Now I am a streamlet!" Then he would put several chairs near each other, and step from one to another, saying, "Now I am a goat springing from crag to crag!" Then he would roar as loud as his little lungs could, and say, "That's thunder!" and then, jumping quickly from chair to chair, he would cry out, "Now I am the lightning springing from cliff to cliff!"

He would occasionally take a book, and imitate Wordsworth's very solemn and emphatic manner of reading, putting one hand in the bosom of his little frock, and nodding his head as though he were going to nod it off.

Upon one occasion, after some one had read to him a nursery story, he said, very seriously, to his aunt Dora, "I don't believe it; and I don't believe in 'Jack the Giant Killer,' nor in 'Jack and the Bean-stalk,' nor yet in 'Cinderella;' but I will tell you, aunt, what I do believe in."

"What is that, my dear?" inquired the aunt. "I do believe in Jesus Christ," said the little child, very solemnly.

I could relate several others equally characteristic; but the foregoing are sufficient to give the admirers of Wordsworth an interest in his grandson.

Wordsworth's mind seemed to be under a perpetual protest against his assumed or enforced conventionalism. The elements of his grand old Jacobinism had not entirely accommodated themselves to the narrow-minded morality which his marriage and his newly-formed friends had persuaded him to adopt. He had a strong aversion to going to church; but nevertheless he spoke with great acrimony against all who did not go; while at the same time he availed himself of every possible subterfuge to escape performing that duty himself.

A

THE FOX AND THE GOOSE.

"A little child, dear brother Tim,

Who lightly draws his breath,
And feels his life in every limb,

What should it know of death?"

Coleridge persuaded Wordsworth to drop the "dear brother Tim,” as being vulgarly familiar, and consequently the verse, in all subsequent editions, appears imperfect. But little Willie had learned it out of the first edition;¦ and one evening Wordsworth was reciting it to some visitors in its amended and genteeler shape, and had got as far as

"And feels his life," &c.,

when little Willie broke in, and said, "Grandpa does not know his own verses; he wrote it so;" and the little fellow then recited, with great solemnity, the verse as originally written, bringing in "dear brother Tim," to the amusement of the company.

for it.

"I thank you kindly, Mr. Renard," said the other; "I am not a green goose, though very lame, and you have had many a goose on your back before now, I warrant it. But wait a bit. I never leave the yard without permission, but will cackle, and ask my master, who is standing by the wood-pile.”

"You need do no such thing," replied the fox. "As you are so very punctilious in your morals, I will see you plucked before I make you another offer. I hate hypocrites.”

Whereupon he slunk away into his hole, and, fearing exposure, went to try his luck elsewhere. F. W. S.

A LADY, who had suffered much from the profanity of a man sitting near her in a car, gently asked him if he understood French. "Yes," he replied, " and Greek too." "Then," was the response, "will you be so kind as to swear in Greek?"

A

WILD BEAST TAMERS.

CCORDING to Pliny, there were men in his time who tamed wild animals so effectually as to lead them about with garlands of fig leaves; and long before his time, as may be reasonably inferred from antique sculptures, the art of taming lions, tigers, &c., must have been practised.

One of the severest laws of Buddhism enjoined its votaries "to feed an old sick tiger with their own blood;" whence some have concluded that the Indians were in the habit of taming that animal. The Mexican priests tamed wild beasts, but attributed their power to a pretended magical ointment they manufactured in the temples.

S.

MESSRS. BARD Brothers, of Meadville, Pa., and Ryan, of Newark, N. J., advertise for sale the "Oliver Optic" hat!

JURY.

BY J. W. H.

[CONCLUDED.]

A PETIT JURY-often styled traverse jury

consists of twelve persons. Their office is to try criminal offences and issues of fact in civil cases at common law.

In the trial of a cause it is the duty of the jury to listen to the evidence introduced by either party, to hear the arguments of counsel, to receive the charge of the judge, and, finally, after private consultation, to render a decision upon the issue according to the evidence presented and the law delivered to them.

After the jury have heard the evidence, arguments, and charge, they retire to a private room, where they are kept (not being permitted to have intercourse with any person) until they all agree upon a decision, or, after using every reasonable effort, find it impossible to agree.

When all concur, the jury return to open court and announce their decision. If they cannot agree, they are discharged, and the cause must be tried anew.

Petit jurors are sworn to well and truly try the issue between the parties, and to decide "according to the evidence" ("according to the law and the evidence given them," by the usage of some states). Their qualifications are the same for civil and criminal trials, and generally do not differ from those of grand jurors, and they are usually selected in the same manner as the latter.

When a juror is objected to as incompetent to sit in a trial, the judge decides as to the validity of the objection; and if, when a cause is called for trial, all the jurors are not present, or any are justly objected to, and set aside, the deficiency may be supplied from among the bystanders having suitable qualifications. Persons so selected are styled talesmen.

The right of challenge (objection to a juror) exists in civil trials; but it is much more important and extensive in the trial of criminal offences.

In capital cases the accused has, within specified limits, the right of peremptory challenge that is, he may object to a certain number of jurors without assigning cause. The decision of a jury is termed a verdict.

IT is Jeremy Taylor who says, "Do not easily entertain, or at all encourage, or willingly hear, or promptly believe, tale-bearers and reporters of other men's faults."