Roger's father then left the house, and went up in town, where he generally passed his time. Soon after, about half a dozen boys stopped at the house of Roger. "Halloa, Roger, get your gun and come on." "Father won't let me go a hunting on the river," replied Roger. 66 Well, come ahead, we aint going to hunt on the river," said one, winking at the others. Roger took his gun and set out with the boys. Presently one of the boys asked one of his comrades how much farther it was to the river. "Why," exclaimed Roger, "I thought you wasn't going to hunt on the river ?" "Well, we aint going to hunt on the river, but on its banks, ha, ha, ha." Roger persisted against going, but they at last prevailed on him to accompany them, by laughing at him, calling him silly names, and telling him his father would never find it out. While the boys were hunting, Roger discovered a turkey's track leading up the river. Slipping off from his comrades without being discovered, he followed the track. After going about half a mile up the river, looking ahead he saw about two hundred yards up the river, a turkey seated on a fallen tree. The turkey had not seen him, he kept on, taking care to keep out of the turkey's sight. Finding that his shoes made too much fuss he pulled them off. He was about to fire at the turkey, when he felt a sharp sting in his foot; looking down, to his horror, he saw a large Mockason snake under his feet. He had put his foot upon it, and it bit him. He shot the snake, and tying a string tight around his leg he ran towards home. He soon grew too weak to run. He cried for help, but was far from any house. He began to get so weak that he could not stand, he threw down his gun and crawled. At last he came to a road, and being exhausted, he sank down insensible. He had been bitten in the bottom of his foot by a poisonous snake. When he again woke to consciousness, he was upon a bed in his father's house. He had been found by a traveler soon after he fell exhausted in the road. He had escaped death indeed; but he had lost one of his limbs, which had to be cut off to prevent his death. He had a hair-breadth escape from the monster death, and was rendered a cripple for life, by one act of disobedience. WHEN ONE WON'T QUARREL, TWO CAN'T. WHEN boys are rude, Or, in quarrelsome mood, Throw stones, or strike, or fight To be gentle and kind Is the way, you'll find, To set matters quickly right, There are tears for the many, There's care that will not leave us, Sits Love, 'tween you and me! Our love, it ne'er was reckoned, LITTLE THINGS. Do something for each other- It takes the sorrow from the eye, Then cheer the heart which toils each hour, And though but little in our power, That little let us give. THE SUBLIME OF NONSENSE. BY YOUNG ORATOR CLIMAX. OST illustrious litterati, and coadjutors :-On this imposing and awful occasion, in the midst of this mighty and terrible commotion of vast and capacious intellects, I usher myself into your august presence. We are now witnessing the eruptive thunder of the human mind; the ex-an-them'-a-tous and prodigious peals ever and anon bursting in the concave stellar deep. We hear the reverberating echo from the craggy summits of the eternal mountains. My magnificient compeers, I shall pour forth the pure indivisible ef-flo-res'-en-ses-the huge massive performancesand the transcendent di-aph'-a-nous and perspicuous cog-i-ta-tions of one of the most brilliant and lofty geniuses that ever dwelt superincumbent amid the rich.foliation and six-penny chicanery of our terrestrial emanation. My di-das'-cal-ic faculties have expanded with singular pellucidness, and with a wonderful concatenation. The number and variety of my ideas are incommensurable. The flow of my intellectual efflux is incomparably tall and turbulent. My mind is hop-tu-cap'-su-lar-he-ro-i-comical and |