What a bang! and what a crash! Oh, horror! Four panes of glass gone at once, the window-frame broken, and-- We did not act the coward and fly. No, boys, never turn coward if you get into a scrape--and few boys of spirit but do sometimes get into one. Stand your ground, boys, and bear or pay whatever is fairly earned. Some of us stood our ground until father appeared. He had been a boy himself once, and though he looked very serious he did not scold us. At the first brush it was set down to atmospheric concussion, but on further investigation it was found that the brick-work was chipped and the wood-work broken; and, worse still, inside the parlor was found the fatal poker doubled up, having just escaped a splendid crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. How crest-fallen I felt and looked! Father said that to remind me of the necessity of care in handling such a dangerous toy, I should pay for two of the panes. You can imagine I was glad not to be more severely punished. That cannon was never again fired by me. The hair-breadth escape of that small boy haunts me even now. I have never fired a gun in my life; but for experimental purposes I have handled the strongest explosives, including the notorious dynamite; yet never in my life has such a thrill passed through me as did when I realized the almost miraculous escape of my playmate, when the doubled-up projectile was picked up on our parlor floor. Boys, let an old one beg of you to be careful in handling explosives. Don't touch guns or pistols until you have a little more age upon you, lest some playmate or school-fellow meet with an untimely end. Don't reckon upon the lucky escape I had of being unintentionally a murderer. ONE NIGHT. BY MRS. W. J. HAYS. "I'd like to have been Joan of Arc." "And I, Queen Elizabeth." "Who would you have chosen, Winnie?" "The idea of asking a girl who is afraid in the dark!" said a sneering voice. "It _is_ rather absurd," replied brown-eyed Winnie, though she flushed a little uncomfortably, "but," she continued, "I have told you, Lulu, that I am trying to conquer that." "What makes you afraid, anyhow?" queried Joan of Arc. "I really don't know. I suppose somebody must have scared me when I was too little to remember." "Pshaw! you're afraid of burglars," said Queen Elizabeth. "Yes, she goes poking under her bed every night with a cane," said the sneering voice. "I don't," said Winnie, indignantly. "Well, who would you like to have been, Winnie?" "Nobody." "Oh, what a fib! Now don't get mad, Winnie, sweetie;" and Joan of Arc put her arm around her. "I am not mad, but I just will not tell you who I admire most: tortures sha'n't get it out of me." "Try her!" "Try her!" was shouted in chorus; and one seized her inkstand, another her pile of books, and a third was about to eat up her luncheon, when a tap of the bell announced that recess was over.