bark, and recognized by its tone that he was occupied with something else than the stag. I went up the wood as fast as Czar would carry me, leapt off, and ran through the bushes to the bank where I heard Trusty's voice. A mortal terror assailed me on seeing Trusty in shallow water near a deep spot, with his left hind-leg in the my hunger and Trusty's, and I strengthened myself by a sound sleep, from which I did not awake till evening. During the whole day I had felt tolerably well, but looked with terror for the next, as I must expect that my fever would return every second day, so I rode till a rather late hour in order to reach a camp where I was tolerably certain I could pass the day without dis-jaw of an alligator, whose skull he was turbance. Before I rode off, I dug up some roots of the tulip-tree and chewed them, swallowing the juice, till I reached the camp. These roots are one of the best remedies against fever which nature offers in these regions. I slept till the sun disturbed me, and woke with aching head and weary limbs. I took Czar to graze, and then lay down on my blankets, after placing my gourd full of fresh water by my side. The attack of fever was not very violent: about 2 P.M. I was able to continue my journey, and slept that night on the affluent of the Mustang. The next morning I mounted at an early hour, in order to reach the Fort as soon as possible, and made Czar step out, as I felt very well. About ten o'clock, I rode through a prairie which ran down to the Mustang, which, here an insignificant stream, flowed between high banks over loose pebbles, and was only deep at isolated spots. The prairie was covered with clumps of tall cactus and sunflowers, and I was riding between some of them when a large stag got up before me and stopped a little way ahead. I turned Czar half round and shot the stag, which fell, but got up again, and ran off to the Mustang. As I saw that it was very sick, I soon sent Trusty after it, who soon disappeared with it in a thicket, and I had scarcely reloaded when I heard his hoarse smashing with his teeth, though this did not make it open its clenched teeth. I sprang at one bound into the river, in order to prevent the horrible brute from reaching deep water, to which it was retreating, and was only a few feet from it. I sprang on the beast's back, held it between my knees tightly, and lifted it into the shallow water, while it lashed its tail madly. I now pulled out a revolver, held it against the hinge of the jawbone, and fired one bullet after the other till the bones were splintered and the lower jaw fell off, liberating Trusty from his arrest. I examined him and found that his leg bone was not injured, though the flesh had suffered severely: at the same time he was losing much blood and appeared to be enduring great pain. The stag lay close to the scene of contest, so I drew it ashore and cut off the haunches; then I fetched Czar, bound one of them on either side of the saddle, packed a lot of bushes on the lot and spread my blanket over them, on which I raised Trusty, after I had bound up his wounds as well I could with wet pocket-handkerchiefs. I reached home in the afternoon, and at once made a decoction of the roots of the tulip and pomegranate and willow bark, in order to check the fever, which it soon effected, combined with a strict regimen. HOW TO MAKE A CHEAP VELOCIPEDE. AS most of my readers are no doubt cut out of your board a straight piece, four aware, a velocipede is a small carriage propelled by the feet. It is generally built of iron or steel, in order to combine both lightness and strength; but as very few amateurs could build one of those materials, I shall endeavour to describe how you may make one out of wood, at a very slight outlay, and one that will be quite equal to a machine of a more expensive make. Although made of wood, I can fully answer for the strength and durability of a velocipede so made, as a village carpenter I knew made one in the manner I shall describe, and which answered in every respect, and proved itself both for strength and speed quite equal to one made of iron. The best wood to use, because the strongest, is oak. You must obtain a piece of board, somewhere about five feet long, and five inches in thickness, you should be careful to select a sound piece, and one as free from knots as possible; you must also procure some strong screws. The wheels of a velocipede are three in number, placed in a similar position to those of a Bath-chair; the two large ones being what are termed the driving-wheels, the other in front is used to guide the machine. The wheels you cannot of course well make; you would no doubt, however, be able to procure three second-hand wheels of the required size at a wheelwright's, or carriage-builder's, for a few shillings; or if you could obtain them, the wheels of an old Bath-chair would do capitally. The dimensions should be about -for the large wheels-three and a quarter feet, and the guiding-wheel two feet in diameter, a few inches more or less is of no great consequence; you should, however, remember the larger the driving wheels are, in moderation, the faster your machine will travel, but at the same time it will take more exertion to drive it than if they were smaller. The first part of our machine to be made is the framework; to make this you must and a half feet long, and two and a half inches wide (this piece I shall call A, by way of distinction); now, at one end of this you must screw, not nail, a piece of board, thirteen inches long, by twelve inches wide, this is for your seat, and is the part that goes directly over the axle of your driving-wheels; now, at the other end to which you have fixed your seat, you must carefully bore a hole, one and a quarter inch in diameter the use of this will be presently explained. The axle of the driving wheels must be made out of some thin round iron; it must have two cranks bent in it, in order to allow the wheels to be worked-this you had better get some blacksmith to make; the cranks should be each five inches from the centre of the axle. Having procured an axle properly bent with two cranks, fix your seat to it; this must be done by screwing at right angles on either side of your seat two pieces of oak, each eight inches long by one and a half inches wide; they must be secured to the axle by some stout iron wire, one end of which must be bent securely round the axle, the other end being firmly inserted into the end of the wood. We have now our two large wheels mounted, and a part of our framework secured to them; we must now fix the other end of the piece A to the guiding-wheel, by means of the hole we have already made. We must, however, first mount the wheel: to do this you must cut a piece of oak of about twelve inches long into the form of a prong, the fork end of which must go over the centre of the wheel, to which it must be secured by an axle, made out of a piece of iron wire, or a stout screw; the other end must be placed through the hole you have ready to receive it, the prong part will prevent it going through too far, and will also keep it in its proper position. The other end of the piece A, that to which your seat is attached, is already secured in its proper position over the driving-wheels, so that when your guiding wheel is fixed as described, your machine will stand on three wheels similar to a Bath-chair, and as it now is, you can sit on the seat, with your legs one on either side of the piece A. We have now to make the parts that work the wheels by means of your feet; and also a handle from your guiding-wheel sufficiently long for you to reach in your seat: this latter consists simply of a piece of oak of the required length, and which you can form into the shape of a handle at one end. To make the parts that work the wheels by means of your feet, you must cut out two pieces of oak, each four feet long and two inches wide; in the centre of each of these you must screw on a piece of wood, shaped somewhat like the sole of your boot; if you are not able to make a neat job of this, the top part of a pair of pattens-a pair of which you can obtain for a few pence- -or the wood part of an old pair of skates would do very well; you must also fixa strap to each, in order to strap your boot to it; you must arrange the straps as you most conveniently can, so as to hold your foot firmly. We must now join one end of both these pieces to the two cranks of the driving wheels; this is easily done by means of some stout iron wire, one end of which must be bent round the cranks, and the other firmly inserted into the ends of the two pieces of wood; you must now screw two screws in the piece A, one on either side of the guiding-wheel, allowing about an inch of each screw to project out; you must also screw two screws in a similar manner in the ends of the two pieces of wood. You must now join these together by means of two pieces of thin round iron, bending one end of each iron round the screw by the guiling-wheel, and the other round the screw in the piece of wood; you must be careful to join the iron neatly, but at the same time you must leave plenty of room for the free working of the parts. Your velocipede is now finished; it only remains for you to paint it. The best colour to paint the wheels is, perhaps, a dark chocolate, and if you could manage it, you might enliven the same by a thin circle of either white or red; the wood-work, being oak, would look much better if simply varnished. In conclusion, I have only to state that, when travelling in your velocipede, you should avoid, as much as possible, rough and stony roads, as they are apt to strain your machine; at any rate, if you are obliged to travel over the same, go slowly. On a tolerably even road, however, you need have no fear of the pace. I need scarcely add that, when not in use, your velocipede should be sheltered from the weather. J. J. HISSEY. FORGIVE AND FORGET. FORGIVE and forget-it is better Than allow the deep cankering fetter When the load from thy bosom is cast, And the sky that's above thee be brighter, When the cloud of displeasure has pass'd. Though thy spirit beat high with emotion For remembrance increases the pain. And why should we linger in sorrow, Oh, memory's a varying river, And though it may placidly glide When the sunbeams of joy o'er it quiver, It foams when the storm meets its tide. Then stir not its current to madness, For its wrath thou wilt ever regret ; Though the morning beams break on thy sadness, Ere the sunset forgive and forget. IN THREE TRIALS. N an old city in the old time, when Christianity was a new religion and Heathenism was trying to subdue it, there dwelt a woman, named Agatha, with her husband and two children. She an lodged in the same ward. On the morrow there came a messenger, saying that Agatha was to appear before the Governor. The hour of trial had come. She had anticipated this. When she became a Christian Their religion was not popular: it did she knew that a crown of glory would be not, as old John Bunyan says, "walk in hers-but a cross and a sepulchre lay besilver slippers." Ah, no-it went barefoot tween her and its possession. She kissed for the most part, and was terribly wounded her children and embraced her husband, and bruised by the stones of stumbling over and felt-only as a mother and a wife can which it passed. When Agatha went with feel when separated from all they love; her husband and children to worship, it was and was sustained only as a Christian can in some comfortable chapel or grand old be-by God's grace in the hour of adversity. church, but under ground, where slaves Through the gloomy passages, into the were buried, and in the dead of the night.presence of the Governor, Agatha advances : There they sang their hymns in peace-the guards leave her at the door. offered up their prayers, and listened--oh, how devoutly!-to the reader as he unrolled his book, and went through some passage in the Gospel story. But there were betrayers in that little company of Christians with whom they met-betrayers who did not die with shame and fear when they heard it read how Judas kissed his master, and with that kiss betrayed him. The betrayer made it known to the Governor who these Christians were who worshipped in the tombs. None escaped notice the rich lady, who came veiled; the Ethiopian who came with her "no longer a servant, but a brother beloved in the Lord;" the little hump-backed shoemaker; the centurion; the dancing girl, with her light, graceful form; the old gladiator, with his strong limbs; the rough labourer, with his iron hands; the young noble, with his satin skin all were marked, and all their names written in a book-the Governor's Criminal List-ay, but in a better and more lasting volume-the Book of Life. One night there came a messenger to Agatha's house, and a guarl, who bore a letter from the Governor, commanding the arrest of all the family, and their committal to the town prison. So they were hurried away; but instead of, as they expected, being separated from one another, were all ticipates her fate-death in some cruel form-in the flames-in the torture roomby the wild beasts on a holiday. And she prays as Hannah prayed-her lips moving, but no sound heard. She is ready to die. "For me to die is gain." She has read those words in a letter from a faithful missionary, and she repeats them now. But she is prepared for the trial. The Governor commands obedience-expostu lates-threatens. But his words move her not. Now comes the test. "Woman! by this new doctrine you have lost a wife's affections and sacrificed a mother's love. By it you have seduced others into your own error, and made them the sharers in your punishment. It is written in your books that a wise king found out the true mother when he ordered her child to be slain, and that, rather than that child should perish, she would give it up to a strange woman. See: if you do not resign this new faith-this Nazarene doctrine-I will order the execution of your youngest born: if you recant, for your sake yours shall be spared." The Christian woman bowed her head, and was silent. Prayer from her heart went up to God's throne, and strength from God came down to her heart. So she made answer: 'They who love their children more than | Lord will enable me to bear it all." The husband comforts his wife with hopeful, happy words, and so they part. And the third trial is over. the Lord are not worthy of Him. If God takes my children to Himself shall I complain? Unjust judge, I trust in the Judge of all." At a motion from the Governor the guards advanced towards her. She fainted, and they carried her back to her husband and children. When she recovered, the guard waited with the order for the death of her youngest born. He was a brave boy, with light hair and blue eyes, and a great heart. He bade his mother and the rest shed no tears for him. He would soon be with Him who once was a child Himself. He hears that they will expose him on the bleak mountains, and that he is to die of hunger and thirst; but he answers, "he has meat to eat they know not of," and that in the land he is going to "they neither hunger nor thirst." So they lead him away to death; and the mother covers her head, and weeps bitterly. Her first trial is over. Next day the guards return. Another interview, and with a like result, ensues. The mother is doomed to lose another child. It is a girl-a girl just blooming into womanhood. The mother and father tremble and shed tears, but they feel they must not surrender. It is a happiness, in their sorrow, that their children are bravehearted. The girl throws her arms about her mother's neck, and whispers that her brother and herself are but going to Heaven first that they will all meet again-that in the world above the stars there are no tears and no more parting. She is to die in what they call the arena, before holiday folks, by wild beasts. So she whispers that God took care of Daniel, and that God will do better still for her-He will take her to Himself. And the second trial is passed. Agatha is childless, and she fears that some new terror may come on her, but her trust is in God. She prays that God would make her strong enough to bear all trials, and her husband joins her. Next day her husband is the victim.. “Resign," says the unjust judge, "thine husband or thy faith." And she answers and says, "The A week has passed, and the widowed wife and childless mother sits in the cell alone. And it is night. There comes a visitor; he bears a lamp with him, and is troubled as he enters. It is the unjust judge. The captive lifts her head. "I have no treasure now," she says: "do with me as you will. They are all gone-why should I tarry? O Lord, send thy chariots--the chariots of Israel, the horsemen thereof." What does the man mean? He bids her come with him, and she mechanically follows. He leads her through the passages, ascends stone steps, crosses a garden, enters a pavilion, and there- -What a scene bursts on her sight! Is she in a dream ?—is she in Heaven? There-here-around her-weeping on her neck, clinging round her waist-are the loved ones-husband, children, alive from the dead. How is this? The unjust judge tells the story. Touched by the constancy of these Christians, he had resolved to test them by the sharpest trials. He wrung the mother's heartappealed to her tenderness for her children, and found that her religion enabled her to sustain that trial. He found that her children-her brave boy, her gentle girlwere as immovable as their mother, and he preserved them from the threatened sufferings. He aroused all the wife's affectionstore from her the husband of her youth, and found her still faithful. The woman gave up her husband for the Lord's sake, and the husband resigned his wife. He felt that the religion which could so strengthen them to endure all this must be no light matter. He sought to know more. He had been almost-ay, and altogetherpersuaded to become a Christian, and his object now was to fly with them from danger, and seek safety on a foreign shore. So they fled together, and were saved from peril and from persecution-and saved with an everlasting salvation. The noble fortitude of this Christian family had accomplished its work. |