Some curious facts with respect to old systems of arithmetic were published at a meeting of the Schlesische Gesellschaft in Breslau in 1846. On that occasion Herr Löschke gave an account to the learned assembly of an old arithmetical work, 'Rechnen auf der Linie,' by the 'old Reckon-master,' Adam Rise. Adam was born about 1492; of his education nothing is known; he lived at Annaberg, and had three sons, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. His first 'Reckon-book,' in which he explained his peculiar method, appeared in 1518. It was somewhat on the principle of the calculating frame of the Chinese; a series of lines were drawn across a sheet of paper, on which, by the position of counters, numbers could be reckoned up to hundreds of thousands. The first line of the series was for units, the second for tens, the third for hundreds, the fourth for thousands, the fifth for ten thousands, and so on. It is remarkable that the highest counting-limit at that time was a thousand. The word 'million' was as yet unknown to the great body of calculators. Every number was counted, specified, and limited by thousands. The numeration of large numbers was thus expressed: the sum was divided into threes from right to left; a dot was placed over the first, and a second dot over the third of the following three, and so continued along the whole, until at last a dot stood over every fourth figure from the right. For example, . . . . . . . . 6432798642102791527462, which were read, six thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand times thousand, 432 thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand times thousand, 798 thousand thousand thousand thousand times thousand, 642 thousand thousand thousand times thousand, 102 thousand thousand times thousand, 791 thousand times thousand, 527 thousand and 462. With this curiosity of arithmetic we close our Jottings for the present. THE LITTLE WOODLAND GLEANER. 'Art thou weary, Dove Annette--say, hast thou been roaming far? Seeking flowers fresh and wild, watching for the evening star? Heavily thy basket weighs; 'tis a cruel load for thee; Shades of night are stealing o'er; thou at home, fair child, shouldst be.' Dove Annette laughed merrily as she ope'd her basket lid; There no hyacinthine bell or sweet eglantine was hid: Pine cones, and fallen leaves, and slender twigs were gathered there; Far more precious these to her than the woodland treasures fair. 'My old grandam she is cold, for the autumn nights are chill; So I search the golden woods over dale and over hill; Sticks, leaves, and cones together, make a warm and blazing fire; Shame 'twould be if Dove Annette on this errand e'er could tire! 'My old grandam she is blind, but our scholars are a score; And she tells them how to spell, and the blessed Bible lore; At A B C I toil all day--alas, they are not quick to learn! Little 'tis that we are paid--poor the living thus we earn.