ll very well for a little while, and the child thought only of
the success of his device. But the night was closing in, and with the
night came the cold. The little boy looked around in vain. No one came.
He shouted--he called loudly--no one answered. He resolved to stay there
all night, but, alas! the cold was becoming every moment more biting,
and the poor finger fixed in the hole began to feel benumbed, and the
numbness soon extended to the hand, and thence throughout the whole arm.
The pain became still greater, still harder to bear, but still the boy
moved not. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought of his father, of
his mother, of his little bed, where he might now be sleeping so
soundly; but still the little fellow stirred not, for he knew that did
he remove the small slender finger which he had opposed to the escape of
the water, not only would he himself be drowned, but his father, his
brothers, his neighbors--nay, the whole village. We know not what
faltering of purpose, what momentary failures of courage there might
have been during that long and terrible night; but certain it is, that
at day-break he was found in the same painful position by a clergyman
returning from attendance on a death-bed, who, as he advanced, thought
he heard groans, and bending over the dyke, discovered a child seated on
a stone, writhing from pain, and with pale face and tearful eyes.

"In the name of wonder, boy," he exclaimed, "what are you doing there?"

"I am hindering the water from running out," was the answer, in perfect
simplicity, of the child, who, during that whole night had been evincing
such heroic fortitude and undaunted courage.

The Muse of History, too often blind to (true) glory, has handed down to
posterity many a warrior, the destroyer of thousands of his
fellow-men--she has left us in ignorance of the name of this real little
hero of Haarlem.

[From Cumming's Hunting Adventures in South Africa.]

ADVENTURE WITH A SNAKE.

As I was examining the spoor of the game by the fountain, I suddenly
detected an enormous old rook-snake stealing in beneath a mass of rock
beside me. He was truly an enormous snake, and, having never before
dealt with this species of game, I did not exactly know how to set about
capturing him. Being very anxious to preserve his skin entire, and not
wishing to have recourse to my rifle, I cut a stout and tough stick
about eight feet long, and having lightened myself of my shootin