A HAPPY NEW YEAR.

A

HAPPY NEW YEAR

to you, my children! May blessings rich as love can give, numerous as snowflakes, and enduring as the everlasting hills, descend gently on your unwrinkled brows, and fill your youthful hearts! May no sorrows poison the stream of your young lives, no misfortunes freeze your flowing spirits, no vices mar the beauty of your characters; but may innocent mirth well up within you, like the crystal waters from a fairy's fountain, jocund laughter dance merrily upon your lips, sunshine flash from your eyes, and goodness adorn your conduct forever! Such is my meaning, my children, when I wish you a Happy New Year. Huzza,

then, for the glad, gleesome, Happy New Year!

The New Year! Who does n't love the New Year? True, Mr. JANUARY is a frisky youth, pouring mighty gusts of wind from his puffy cheeks into people's faces, and bringing down clouds of snowflakes from the sky with his mysterious wand, as if he wanted to be thought a great magician. Then he has icicles for eyelashes, and he wears a snow-wreath for a cap. Wherever he goes, the brooks and rivers do him homage. They cease to flow in his presence. They transform themselves into solid paths, along which he may march like a monarch enjoying a triumph. Besides all this, the young fellow acts the part of chief of police. He keeps everybody

moving on the state highway. "Move along!-move along! Quick! — stir yourselves!" he cries to every creature he meets : and he is so testy that, if he is not obeyed, he will sting the toes, bite the fingers, tingle the cheeks, and hang icicles on the noses of the disobedient. He means all this for frolic and fun; and so it is, if not carried too far, as it is sure to be if he is not obeyed.

But, notwithstanding all these odd tricks, who does n't love young January? I would like to see the boy or girl who does not. He would be a curiosity; and I should be tempted to send him to some old curiosity-shop for exhibition. Why, you know that Mr. January has an old friend of children, named SANTA CLAUS, or Sr. NICHOLAS, who always comes with him, crouching down, like an overloaded donkey, beneath a load of pleasant nick-nacks for the boys and girls. Young January carries his friend all over the land, and sends him, by the way of chimneys, windows, or doors, into almost every house, with orders to leave some of his wonderful toys in every pair of stockings he may find on the chimney-piece. Then what fun there is every New Year's morning, when the boys and girls peep into their stockings, to find out what the venerable and jocose St. Nicholas has been pleased to put there! And how many young hearts are made glad by these New Year's Gifts! I love rollicking young January for this. Huzza, again, then, I say!huzza for the glad New Year!

And old SOL, the monarch of the skies, loves him, too. That good old sky-king gets up earlier, and goes to bed later, every day, from the time young January first shows his little puffy face until he retires to his summer residence. Why he should do this, if he does n't love him, it would puzzle a Philadelphia lawyer to tell. And I think I know why the sky-king loves him. Would n't you like to know, too, Miss Laughinglips?

Listen! Put your ear close to my lips, and I will tell you! Young January brings a little bird with him, à beautiful little bird, prettier than humming-bird or bird of Paradise. This bird sings such a love of a song, in such a bewitching voice, that whoever hears it is charmed by it. As the charm works, the listener forgets his past sorrows, dries up his tears, sees beautiful visions of lovely landscapes and golden skies, grows young in heart and strong in purpose again, and is made very happy. Now, this little warbler young January sends into a hundred thousand homes, and bids him sing his song by a hundred thousand hearth-sides. Would you like to know the name of this dear little bird? It is HOPE! Everybody

hopes in January, you know; and that is why the New Year brings with it so much of life, pleasure, and joy.

Well, I hear the little birdling's song to-day, and I hope. I hope that you, my dear children, may all live innocently and happily through the year. I hope you will all grow wiser, better, more useful, more fit for heaven. I hope our magazine will be better, more beautiful, more amusing, more instructive than ever; and I hope that you will all continue to read its pages until you cease to be children. Once more, then, I wish you a Happy New Year! Once more let us say, Huzza for the glad New Year!

F. F.

I

HOW TO MAKE A MAGIC FLUTE.

ONCE read of a way to produce the sounds of a small flute by a curious means. I will tell you how to do it.

Take a good sound cork, with as few holes or cracks in it as possible. By placing this against the teeth, holding it tightly between the lips, and playing upon it with the handles of two forks, a singular imitation of a piccolo, or small flute, will be produced. The tune should be fancied by the player; and a quick air will be found most effective.

Now, I never tried this experiment with a cork and fork-handles. Will some of my ingenious boy-readers try it, and write me concerning their success?

F. F.

THE KING OF THE PUMPKINS.

OU have all heard of the king of Russia, and the king of Denmark, and the king of Naples, and a great many other kings; but did you ever hear of the king of the Pumpkins? You smile; but I am serious, and repeat the question, Did you ever hear of the king of the Pumpkins? No? Well, I thought so; and yet there is such a thing, and I'll tell you about it. A curious custom prevails in Paris of annually proclaiming the king of the Pumpkins, and of making a solemn procession in honor of the largest vegetable of the species which can be discovered. The "king" of the last year was grown at St. Mande, and weighed three hundred and forty-eight pounds, being a little less than seven feet in circumference.

SPRUCE

A FABLE, BY UNCLE FRANK.

A young goat tried hard to make himself appear like a

sheep. He endeavored to talk and act like a sheep. Half his time was spent in putting on airs. He went so far as to cut off his beard, so that he might bear a more striking resemblance to the sheep family; and he was once heard to say that he would give anything if he could either get rid of his horns altogether, or have them twisted as the horns were worn by some of the old fathers whom he so much admired. The little simpleton, however, lost far more than e gained by his singular manners. Instead of being more respected and beloved, as he thought he should be, he was despised by everybody.

One day, after having been ridiculed and abused by some of his young neighbors, he went to his schoolmistress, with a huge budget brimful of troubles. This schoolmistress, by the way, was an old goat with a wise head.

"O, dear!" sighed the little fellow, "everybody hates me! I wish I was dead! I'm sure I don't know what it all means! The more I try to be good, the more they all dislike me and shun me!" "My dear child," said Mrs. Longbeard, "I'm sorry for you; but I can't do anything to help you. It will always be so until you turn over a new leaf, and act very differently." "Why, I try as hard as I can now to make people like me," replied the young goat. How can I act any better?"

"You ape the sheep too much."

"Well, why not? The farmer thinks more of his sheep than he does of his goats, a great deal more.'

"And what of that?"

"Why, if he likes the sheep best, he will love me more than the best of the goats if I become as much as possible like a sheep." "That's exactly where you mistake. He'll not like you half as

Take my advice, now.

Be

You'll not succeed if you Mark my word, sir! If f you

"For the same reason that nobody else likes you so well, because you don't act like yourself. yourself. Don't try to be anybody else. try. You'll make a miserable failure. ever come across a person that likes you, you will find that he will like you as a goat, and not as a sheep. A sheep you could never be, though you might practise a lifetime. Be a goat, then; be a goat, and nothing else."

This advice, I believe, proved of some service to the juvenile goat. And, by the way, reader, may it not be of some little service to you?

A MAN OF BONES.

ERE is a curious fact for you. The flesh of a living man once

HER

grew into bone. It seems hard to believe, yet I suppose it was so; for, in the Museum at Dublin, Ireland, there is, or was, the skeleton of one Clerk, a native of the city of Cork, whom they call the Ossified Man, one of the greatest curiosities of nature. It is the carcass of a man entirely ossified in his lifetime, living in that condition several years. Those that knew him before this surprising alteration, affirm that he had been a young man of great strength and agility. He felt the first symptoms of this surprising change some time after he had laid all night in the fields, after a debauch; till, by slow degrees, every part grew into a bony substance, excepting his skin, eyes, and intestines; his joints settled in such a manner that no ligament had its proper operation; he could not lie down or rise without assistance. He had at last no bend in his body; yet, when he was placed upright, like a statue of stone, he could stand, but could not move in the least. His teeth were joined, and formed into one entire bone; therefore a hole was broken through them to convey liquid substance for his nourishment. The tongue lost its use, and his sight left him, some time before he expired. F. F.

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