One enormous stalact.i.te was taken from the roof, and presented to the Smithsonian Inst.i.tution at Washington. It weighed a thousand pounds, and was removed with great care. First it was wrapped all over in cotton cloth, every little point being separately packed. Then bits of wood were fitted exactly between the points, and, to prevent any jarring, a wooden case was built round it while it was still hanging from the roof of the cave. Then, resting on a scaffolding, it was sawn from the rock, cautiously lowered, and sent off to its new home.

From marks of claws on the stalagmites, as well as of teeth, it is clear that some of the caverns have been used by huge animals in former times, and many impressions of smaller animals are also found, such as wolves, panthers, rats, and rabbits. These marks are perfectly clear, and they must be of great age, as the stalagmites on which they are found have grown into huge pillars carrying the records of their visitors up with them far out of reach.

In one cavern, known as the Round Room, arrow and spear heads have been found, proving that human beings formerly made use of the caves.

One peculiar feature of these caves are what appear to be limpid pools, though really they are quite dry now. An unfortunate traveller slipped into one of these many years ago, when the pool was not fully hardened, and the impression of his form is still quite clearly seen, whilst the pool, in honour of him, is known as Chapman's Lake.

THE SONG OF THE BROOM.

Dust! dust! dust! dust!

Carpet, curtain, window, floor; Right, left, thrust, thrust-- Clouds are rising more and more!

Sweep, sweep, sweep, sweep-- Kitchen, parlour, pa.s.sage, stair; Sweep, sweep, sweep, sweep-- That's what _I'm_ obliged to bear!

Dust, dust, dust, dust, In the lofty attic found; Dust, dust, dust, dust, In the cellar underground.

Cobwebs, spiders, beetles, flies, Nooks and corners dark and drear, That is where my pathway lies, Month by month and year by year; Buckets, boxes, brushes, boots, Near to me for ever dwell; No one lets me share the fruits Of the work I do so well; Boys and girls will often play In some clean and pleasant room, Making litter all the day, For the poor unhappy broom.

No one shows me grat.i.tude; No one cares a jot for me, For when work is done I'm stood In some gloomy scullery.

But no matter! time will come-- When my hair is worn away, I shall rest, while some new broom Does what I must do to-day.

ONE MORE CHANCE.

'I want you to look after the new boy, Angus,' said Mrs. Macdonald, the wife of the head master, to her son.

'Oh, Mother, I know that means he is either a molly-coddle or a black sheep. I remember the time I had when you set me on to look after young Smith.'

'My boy, I want your help. I am sure you will not refuse it.'

'Well, fire away, Mother. Let me know the worst,' and Angus put on a resigned look.

'It is Andrews, the boy who has been sent home from India,' Mrs.

Macdonald explained. 'He has been brought up so badly. His mother died when he was a baby, and he has been quite neglected, and left to native servants. His father writes that he hopes English school-life will break him of the bad habits he has formed, but I am afraid it will be no easy matter. Of course, I am telling you this in confidence, Angus, but I cannot help thinking of the fight the poor boy has before him, and I want you to understand it and to befriend him.'

'Well, this is a nice treat for me,' Angus said. 'But you know, Mother, you always get your own way, and so I suppose I must do the best I can for him.'

'Thank you, my boy; I knew I could count on you. I want Andrews to have a real chance.'

'How about _me_, though?' asked Angus, with a smile. 'Perhaps I shall learn his bad habits, instead of breaking him of them!'

'I am not afraid,' said his mother, proudly, as she left him.

A month later Angus Macdonald told himself he had not done much towards fulfilling his promise, although he had faithfully tried.

Andrews was a most difficult boy to deal with. He was untruthful, and seemed to have no idea of honour, and he had a hot, pa.s.sionate temper.

On the other hand, he could evidently be led by his affections to some extent. He liked Macdonald, who had taken his part once or twice when the other boys were bullying him, and he would have done anything to show his grat.i.tude.

'But I cannot stick up for you if you are not straight, Andrews,'

Macdonald had told him plainly. 'And you will never get on here unless you act on the square and tell the truth always.'

'Indeed, I will try,' Andrews would say, and within an hour or so he would very likely be detected in some mean, deceitful act, which would make Macdonald inclined to throw up his charge and let him go his own way. Then he would remember he was the boy's only friend, and would make up his mind to give him another chance.

Howard, one of the bigger boys, lost no opportunity of bullying Andrews.

He was no friend of Macdonald's, and so he took a delight in making the younger boy show off his worst points.

'Hullo, n.i.g.g.e.r, keep your hair on!' he said tauntingly one day when Andrews was beginning to get angry about some trick that had been played on him. The words made Andrews furious.

'I am as English as you are; how dare you call me that name?' he cried, and flew at his tormentor, who of course made short work of him. In a moment Andrews was lying on the floor, with Howard ready to upset him if he got up again. But after a time Howard let him go, and he walked away, vowing vengeance in his heart.

The same evening he was in the play-room alone, and he remembered that Howard had received a hamper the day before, the contents of which were packed away in his cupboard.

The temptation was too great. First, there was his love of sweet things; then his long-accustomed habit of never denying himself anything he wanted, if he could get it by fair means or foul. And his lessons in honour had been learnt such a little time that the disgrace and wrong of stealing scarcely troubled him. Finally, he would be doing his enemy an injury, and the thought of revenge was sweet to him.

He had cut some rich plum-cake, and was eagerly devouring it, when Howard came suddenly into the room and caught him in the act.

'You young rascal!' he cried, catching hold of the younger boy and tweaking his ear so unmercifully that he cried out with pain. 'I shall just make you pay for this.'

At the same moment Macdonald appeared in the doorway.

'What's the row?' he asked.

'Why, your precious friend is the row,' Howard said. 'I hope you are proud of him--the little thief! I will leave you to enjoy one another's company,' and he turned away, not sorry to have such a story to tell the other boys.

'Now you see what you have done!' Macdonald said to the culprit, who was hanging his head, remorse having overtaken him. 'How can you hope to keep your friends if you bring disgrace on them?'

'I didn't think,' murmured the unhappy boy. 'Oh, yes, I see now! Of course, you can never speak again to a boy who is a thief. It doesn't matter. I don't care what becomes of me now,' and he turned miserably away.

There was such a forlorn look about him that Macdonald was touched in spite of his anger. There flashed into his mind his mother's words, and also those others from an even Higher Authority--'until seventy times seven.'

'Hold hard, Andrews,' he said. 'I will give you one more chance.'

Then the boy broke down and promised he would never forget his friend's kindness, but would fight hard to win the victory over his faults.

And although he did not succeed without some more falls, he did, to the best of his ability, keep his word, and in the end took an honourable place in the school.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'You young rascal!'"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Andree's Departure for the North Pole.]

CRUISERS IN THE CLOUDS.