seemed impossible could ever be stowed At present the boatswain bawled, or The first-lieutenant had a good voice of his own, though it was not so rough as that of his inferiors. He made it come out with a quick, sharp sound, which could be heard from the poop to the forecastle, even with the wind ahead. Jack, Tom, and Bill looked at each other, wondering what was next going to happen. They were all three of about the same age, and much of a height, and somehow, as I have said, they found themselves standing close together. They were too much astonished, not to say frightened, to talk just then, though they all three had tongues in their heads, so they listened to the conversation going on around them. "Why, mate, where do you come from ?" asked a long-shore chap of one of the whitey-brown-faced gentlemen. "Oh, I've jist dropped from the clouds; don't know where else I've come from," was the answer. I I suppose you got your hair cropped off as you came down?" was the next query. "Yes! it was the wind did it as I came scuttling down," answered the other, who was evidently never at a loss what to say. "And now, mate, just tell me how did you get on board this craft ?" he inquired. "I swam off, of course, seized with a fit of patriotism, and determined to fight for the honour and glory of Old England," was the answer. It cannot, however, be said that this is a fair specimen of the conversation; indeed, it would benefit no one were what was said to be repeated. Jack, Tom, and Bill felt very much as a person might be supposed to do who had dropped from the moon. Everything around them was so strange and bewildering, for not one of them had ever before been on board a ship, and Bill had never even seen one. Having not been much accustomed to the appearance of trees, he had some idea that the masts grew out of the deck, that the yards were branches, and the blocks curious leaves; not that amid the fearful uproar, and what seemed to him the wildest confusion, he could think of anything clearly. Bill Rayner had certainly not been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. His father he had never known. His mother lived in a garret, and died in a garret, although not before, happily for him, he was able to do something for himself, and, still more happily, not before she had impressed right principles on his mind. As the poor woman lay on her deathbed, taking her boy's hands and looking earnestly into his eyes, she said, "Be honest, Bill, in the sight of God. Never forget that He sees you, and do your best to please Him. No fear I am not much of a Poor as she was, being a woman of some Bill's mother was buried in a rough Bill, as are many other London boys, One of them, however, a stout One or two of the press-gang, who had muskets, fired, but they were not good shots. The man looking back as he saw them lifting their weapons, by suddenly diving escaped the first volley, and by the time they had again loaded he had gained such a distance that the shot spattered into the water on either side of him. They were afraid of firing again for fear of hitting some of the people on shore, besides which, darkness coming on, the gloom concealed him from view. They knew, however, that he must have landed in safety, from the cheers which came off from the quay, uttered by the crowd who had followed the press-gang, hooting them as they embarked with their captives. He Bill began to think that he could not be going to a very pleasant place, since, in spite of the risk he ran, the man had been so eager to escape, but being himself unable to swim, he could not follow his example, even had he wished it. judged it wiser, therefore, to stay still, and see what would next happen. The boat pulled down the river for some way, till she got alongside a large cutter, up the side of which Bill and his companions were made to climb. From what he heard he found that she was a man-of-war tender, her business being to collect men, by hook or by crook, for the Royal Navy. As she was now full-indeed, so crowded that no more men could be stowed on board-she got under way with the first of the ebb, and dropped down the stream, bound for Spithead. As Bill, with most of the pressed men, was kept below during this his first trip to sea, he gained but little nautical experience. He was, however, very sick, while he arrived at the conclusion that the tender's hold, the dark prison in which he found himself, was a most horrible place. Several of his more heartless companions jeered at him in his misery; and, indeed, poor Bill, thin and pale, shoeless and hatless, clad in patched garments, looked a truly miserable object. As the wind was fair, the voyage did not last long, and glad enough he was when the cutter got alongside the big frigate, and he with the rest being ordered on board, he could breathe the fresh air which blew across her decks. Tom Fletcher, who stood next to Bill, had considerably the advantage of him in outward appearance. Tom was dressed in somewhat nautical fashion, though any sailor would have seen with half an eye that his costume had been got up by a shore-going tailor. Tom had a good-natured but not very sensible-looking countenance. He was strongly built, was in good health, and had the making of a sailor in him, though this was the first time that he had even been on board a ship. He had a short time before come off with a party of men returning on the expiration of their leave. Telling them that he wished to go to sea, he had been allowed to enter the boat. From the questions some of them had put to him, and the answers he gave, they suspected that he was a runaway, and such in fact was the case. Tom was the son of a solicitor in a country town, who had several other boys, he being the fourth, in the family. He had for some time taken to reading the voyages of Drake, Cavendish, and Dampier, and the adventures of celebrated pirates, such as those of Captains Kidd, Lowther, Davis, Teach, as also the lives of some of England's naval commanders, Sir Cloudesley Shovell, Benbow, and Admirals Hawke, Keppel, Rodney, and others, whose gallant actions he fully intended some day to imitate. He had made vain endeavours to induce his father to let him go to sea, but Mr. Fletcher, knowing that he was utterly ignorant of a sea life, set his wish down as a mere fancy, which it would be folly to indulge. Tom, instead of trying to show that he really was in earnest, took French leave one fine morning, and found his way to Portsmouth, without being traced. Had were at work the whole summer through. The house was very pretty and picturesque. It had grown, mellowed down into beauty without much care or thought being given to the matter by either its first builders or those who had followed them. Over the great the neighbouring hills, one creeping plant after another had flung its tendrils and wreathed its flowers, and here a room had been built, and there a bay window thrown out by one Carstone or another, so that in the course of the hundred years or so since the house had been erected it had become as handsome and comfortable a farmhouse as any in the county. Jack's mother had been born in it. She had been Miss Mary Carstone, the only child of John Carstone, the last owner. She was a very pretty girl, and grew into a very pretty woman; and as the house and the farm, and some said a nice sum of money, were all hers, you may be sure Mary had no lack of suitors. But she did not care about marrying. She said she had her father to think of, and that was enough for her. He died when she was about thirty, and Mary still kept single. She managed the farm with the help of her head man, Stephen Yoide; and the dairy and the fowls she looked after herself. She was still so pretty, pleasant, and good tempered, that there were many who would have been glad to have married her even if she had not been mistress of the Hill Farm. But Miss Carstone remained Miss Carstone still, till one day a far-away cousin, whom everybody had long since thought dead, came from the other side of the world, where he had been trying to make a fortune, and had not succeeded; and then Marysome people said because she did not know what else to do with her cousin-married him. They were very happy for a few years, during which Master Jack made his appearance. He was christened John after his grandfather, but as I told you, he was a boy born to be called Jack; and as soon as he left off being "baby," he was Jack to every one about the house and farm. Then his father, who had never been very strong since his return to England, died, and Mrs. Carstone grew fonder than ever of Jack, having, she said, nothing now in all the world but him. But that was not quite the case. She had all her people on the farm to look after, men and maids, some of whom had worked years for her. She had the labourers' wives and children to be kind to, and every cow and horse in the place to care for. She was full of duties, cares, and kindnesses; and, therefore, though she spoiled Jackso far as Jack could be spoiled-you must not think of her as a very foolish or a very weak woman. She was one of the best and kindest creatures living, and Jack, in spite of the spoiling, bade fair to grow up a son by no means unworthy of such a mother. He was now nearly fourteen; tall and strong for his age, with a merry eye and an open sunny face. As the old folks about John's very Robinson-Crusoe-like ab was. Then the gardens and potato-grou crept up the rock, and the good wor took their produce to market in the nei bouring town of Northcombe, and so builder was paid for his bricks and timber, and the cottagers began to that their houses were their own, and w as proud of them as if they were so m castles, and John's father grumbled m and more at the town which had co upon him, when he had done his best get away from it. John's father was a very odd m Everybody said so when twelve years he had come to Northcombe. He had b a great friend when abroad of Mrs. O stone's husband, and it was supposed t he had settled in this part of the world be near him. But he would not allow Carstones to help him in any way, thou being kind-hearted, generous people, t would gladly have done so if he wo have suffered them. He took lodgings himself, his man, and his little boy, "John" of my story, in a very small i and after looking about the neighbo hood, and finding no abode that would him, he determined on erecting one himself. There w The way he went to work was the odd possible. Instead of employing men v knew something about building, his m Enoch Green, who appeared to be a grea oddity even than his master, engage couple of strong young fellows, and set th to work under his direction. always plenty of stones lying on the bea and they selected some of the most suita of those for the lower part of the hou finishing it above with some rough-look beams of wood bought cheap from a tim yard. The lattice windows Enoch Gr made himself; the roof was thatched, floor was paved with red tiles, the c boards and fittings were put up by Eno own hands, and when the house finished he kept his two helpers on assist him in forming a garden from rock behind. John's father, Mr. Morton, did noth but look on, and now and then give En a little advice, which he followed or just as it pleased him. If Enoch was of the most faithful and hard-working servants, he was also one of the m independent. J used to look too, quite as gra ly as his fat] and with quite much appeara of knowing all t was going on. this time he about two y old, and was a st sturdy little fell with a large w face, and a pai great solemn bl eyes. As he dressed by En and his father Robinson-Crusoe-like abode gardens and potato-grounds rock, and the good women duce to market in the neigh of Northcombe, and so the paid for his bricks and his the cottagers began to feel uses were their own, and were them as if they were so many John's father grumbled more t the town which had come -hen he had done his best to om it. ther was a very odd man. said so when twelve years ago e to Northcombe. He had been end when abroad of Mrs. Carpand, and it was supposed that ed in this part of the world to 1. But he would not allow the o help him in any way, though, -hearted, generous people, they Hly have done so if he would ed them. He took lodgings for s man, and his little boy, the f my story, in a very small inn; looking about the neighbourfinding no abode that would suit etermined on erecting one for he went to work was the oddest Instead of employing men who ething about building, his man, een, who appeared to be a greater en than his master, engaged a strong young fellows, and set them nder his direction. There were enty of stones lying on the beach, selected some of the most suitable for the lower part of the house, it above with some rough-looking wood bought cheap from a timber The lattice windows Enoch Green self; the roof was thatched, the s paved with red tiles, the cupnd fittings were put up by Enoch's ds, and when the house was he kept his two helpers on to m in forming a garden from the ind. father, Mr. Morton, did nothing on, and now and then give Enoc advice, which he followed or not pleased him. If Enoch was one ost faithful and hard-working of he was also one of the most independent. John used to look on the funniest little fellow that ever wore The building went on under the eyes of The Boy's Own Paper. all he went to school for. Jack went to little calm sur- Riddles in Rhyme. Strange is the metamorphosis. WHEN Abraham sat at his tent-door, acc ing to his custom, waiting to entertain strang answer Abraham grew so zealously angry, and wise instruction. Wisdom and Modesty. THE celebrated A boo Yusuph, who was chief or judge of Bagdad, in the reign of the Cal Hâdee, was a very remarkable instance of humility which distinguishes true wisdom. entertain doubts where men of less knowle and more presumption were decided. 1 related of this judge, that on one occasion, a a very patient investigation of facts, he decla that his knowledge was not competent to de upon the case before him. sense of his own deficiencies often led him "Pray, do you expect," said a pert court who heard this declaration, "that the Calip to pay your ignorance?" "I do not," was the mild reply; "the Cal pays me, and well, for what I do know; if were to attempt to pay me for what I do know, the treasures of his empire would School Savings-Banks. IN France, Italy, Belgium, and other co tries, a savings-bank is one of the regular in tions in national schools. The system is ex lent, both in its immediate results, and training to habits of industry and thrift. attempt of a systematic kind has been mad associate banks with our Board Schools in E land. Professor Laurent, who was the firs introduce school savings-banks in Belgi suggested that school prizes might be mad consist of savings-bank books, entitling recipients to sums of money at a fixed d such as on attaining the age of twenty-one. shall be glad of communications, giving briefly as possible, the results of experience practical suggestions as to school savi banks. Consideration for Animals. "ONE day," says Cecil, whose "Remains well known, "I got off my horse to put a rat of pain which I found on the road only killed. I am shocked at the thoughtless cru of many people; yet I did a thing soon a that has given me considerable uneasiness, for which I reproach myself bitterly. As I riding homeward, I saw a waggon standing door, with three horses; the two foremost eating corn from bags at their noses; but served the third had dropped his on the gro and could not stoop to get any food. Howe I rode on in absence, without assisting But when I had got nearly home, I rememb what I had observed in absence of mind, felt extremely hurt at my neglect, and w have ridden back, had I not thought the goner might have come out of the house A Magic Square. OBSERVE the figures in this square. The 64 numbers are so arranged in the 64 squares as to produce the sum of 260 in each of the lines. This arrangement has also other remarkable qualities. Each group of 8 numbers standing in a circle around the centre of the diagram amounts to 260. There are six such circles; the smallest consists of the numbers 22, 28, 38, 44, 19, 29, 35, and 45; the largest of 8, 10, 56, 58, 1, 15, 49, and 63. The sum of the 4 centre numbers, plus the 4 corner numbers, is 260; and the diagonal cross of 8 numbers in the middle of the board sums 260. An enthusiast will discover other qualities. YOUTHFUL HONOURS BRAVELY WON. BY LAMBTON YOUNG, Secretary of the Royal Humane Society. r the suggestion of the Editor of this MAGAZINE-for which we must all wish a long and prosperous career-I intend to write about what surely every brave boy, whatever his age or condition, ought to feel deeply interested in. I purpose telling the story, not of unapproachable heroes of past ages, or boys of peculiar abilities or exceptional opportunities, but simply of lads of our own time and condition, and of this busy, ordinary, work-a-day world. Such stories will need no embellishment-will they? They ought to speak for themselves. I proceed at once, then, to give accounts of various acts of gallantry by boys who, without thought of self, have bravely risked their own lives in their noble anxiety to save the lives of others; and to tell, also, of the rewards voted them by the Royal Humane Society in recognition of such brave acts. As some pupils of Mr. Murphy's seminary were bathing, T. Coppinger, of Com, county Cork, aged twelve, was carried beyond his depth by the current, when one of the ushers swam out to his assistance, but from the violent and tempestuous state of the weather, found it impossible to bring him to the shore; he called for assistance, but, from the violence of the storm, no one offered any aid; he then most reluctantly abandoned the drowning lad to his fate, and returned to the shore. It was an awful moment a human being left to perish, and numbers in view of the scene. It was too much, however, for one generous youth, and a schoolfellow of Coppinger, of the name of Samuel Green, fifteen years of age, who sooner than see his friend die, determined to sacrifice his own life; he therefore undressed himself, and swam towards the drowning boy, who by this time had been carried some distance out to sea, and when he was reached nothing was visible but the crown of his head. Green tried to take him by the hair; but that, from being too short, slipped from his grasp, and the boy disappeared. Actuated by good nature, and a wish not to abandon his companion, whom every one had given up for lost, he dived and brought him up, and holding him by the wrist, swam ashore with him, saving his life, for animation was restored after some time and with great perseverance. The Society's silver medal was given this boy for his courage. Some Eton boys were bathing in the "Dead Man's Hole," near Eton, when one named Ford got out of his depth, and, being unable to awim, sank to the bottom in ten feet of water. An alarm being raised, another Eton boy named W. Alexander, fifteen years of age, threw off his clothes, and, swimming out to the place, dived to the bottom of the hole, caught hold of Ford, and swam with him to the bank, when, with great presence of mind, he covered him with all the clothes he could procure, and commenced rubbing him, which he persevered in until the assistance he had sent for arrived. Ford at this time was insensible, but had somewhat recovered when the doctor came, some ten minutes afterwards, although it was more than an hour before he could restore anything like the natural warmth of the body. Ford must have perished had not Alexander gone to his rescue and then persevered in the remedial measures he so wisely and readily adopted. This boy was voted the Society's silver medal. In the month of June a young man named Mebbry, aged twenty-seven, was bathing in the Thames a little below Greenwich, and got out of his depth, and, being a poor swimmer, sank after a short struggle, and remained under water some minutes. A little boy, not fourteen, belonging to the lower school of Greenwich Hospital, on hearing of the circumstance, instantly plunged in with his clothes on, swam to the relief of the young man, dived for and brought him to the surface, where he held his head up until a boat came to their aid. Every person present considered this act of a mere child most meritorious, and, acting on the strong recommendation of the eye-witnesses, our silver medal was given to this brave boy. I (To be continued.) MY MONKEYS, AND HOW I MANAGE THEM. BY FRANK BUCKLAND, M.A., Author of "Curiosities of Natural History," etc. Indian Sacred Monkey. monkeys are kindly treated they will be found to be most affectionate animals. They have so many ideas in common with our own species that, in my opinion, they are the most interesting of pets. I have two monkeys of whom I am exceedingly fond. Their names are "The Hag" and "Tiny." The Hag's original name was "Fanny," but she has so much of the character of a disagreeable old woman about her that I call her "The Hag." Tiny is a very little monkey indeed, not much bigger than a large rat. My friend Bartlett brought her to me from the Zoological Gardens as a dead monkey; she was as good as dead"-a perfect skeleton, and with but little hair on her. She arrived tied up in an old canvas bag. I put her The old lady at once into The Hag's cage. "took to her," and instantly began the office of nurse; she cuddled up poor Tiny in her armsmade faces and showed her teeth at anybody who attempted to touch her. Tiny had port wine negus, quinine-wine, beef-tea, egg and milk-in fact, anything she could eat; and The Hag always allowed her to have "first pull" at whatever was put into the cage. Tiny stood up, then began to run, her hair all came again, and she is now one of the most wicked, intelligent, pretty little beasts that ever committed an act of theft. Steal? Why, her whole life is devoted to stealing, for the pure love of the thing. In time The moment I come down to breakfast I let out the monkeys. I keep a box of sardines specially for The Hag, who immediately helps herself, and sits on the table grunting with pleasure as she licks her oily fingers. The moment Tiny is let loose she steals whatever is on the table, and it is great fun to see her snatch off the red herring from the plate and run off with it to the top of the book-shelves. While I am getting down my herring, Tiny goes to the steals the breakfast-table again, and, if she can, egg; this she tucks under her arm and bolts away, running on her hind legs. This young lady has of late been rather shy of eggs, as she once stole one that was quite hot, and burnt herself. She cried out, and The Hag left off eating, sardines, shook her tail violently, and opened her mouth at me, as much as to say, "You dare hurt my Tiny!" If I keep too sharp a look-out upon Miss Tiny, she will run like a rabbit across the table and upset what she can. She generally tries the sugar first, as she can then steal a bit, or she will just put her hand on the milk-jug and pull it over. she cannot get at the sugar-basin or milkjug, she will kick at them with her hind legs, just like a horse, and knock them over as she passes. If Tiny and The Hag sometimes go out stealing together. They climb up my coat and search all the pockets. I generally carry a great many cedar pencils; the monkeys take these out and bite off the cut ends; but the great treat is to pick and pick at the door of a glass cupboard till it is open, then to get in and drink the hair-oil, which they know is there. Any new thing that arrives they must examine, and when a hamper comes I let the monkeys unpack it, especially if I know it contains game. They pull out the straw a bit at a time, peep under the paper, run off crying in their own language, "Look out, there's something alive in the basket!" The performance generally ends by their upsetting the basket, and if they turn out a hare they both set to work and "look fleas" in the hare's fur. I once received a snake in a basket, and I let the monkeys unpack it; they have a mortal horror of a snake. When they found out the contents of the hamper, they were off in double-quick time, crying Murder! thieves !" and it was a long while before they would come down from behind the casts of salmon on the top of the book-shelves. There is no trouble to catch the monkeys. I have only to open the door of their cage, and say, "Cage! cage! go in your cage! quick march!" and they go in instantly, like the good beasts they really are. The parrot has caught up these words, and when the monkeys are running about often cries out "Cage ! cage! go into your cage!" but the little wretches do not care for old Poll. They sometimes attack her. Tiny steals her seed, and while she is pecking at the little thing The Hag will pull her tail from behind. Luckily, the monkeys are afraid of a stuffed Australian animal that hangs in my room. When I have any specimens or bottles that I do not want the monkeys to touch, I simply set down the "bogie" to act as sentry, as I know the monkeys will not come near it. Tiny is very attentive to The Hag, and cries bitterly if she is taken from her. She takes |