As one goes over this world of ours One frequently finds a Jeremy Black, Who overrates the natural powers The Fates have granted him--somewhat slack. Those people who build, though they may not know it, A horn so large that they never can blow it. WAS THE DAY A FAILURE? BY KATE R. McDOWELL. Had you known the Oliver family, many things would have shown you that Fourth of July was near at hand. Especially did the Oliver wood-shed herald its approach. That heap of tin cans in the corner had accumulated by Maggie the cook's promising the boys that she would open all winter the vegetables, soups, and fruits with greatest care, and see that not one of the cans found its way into the ash-barrel. "We can't have too many," said Hugh, taking one from the pile; "for you know we all agreed that sending them up was the most fun of all last year. How we did keep them whizzing!" In another corner stood a good-sized hand-cart. "Halloo!" exclaimed Hugh; "you've got that on hand in good season. Now are you sure of the place, Dug? If we go so very early, it may be rather dark, you know." "Oh, I can find it. I was there with Eugene the day before he went away. It's where a basket shop used to be, and the chips are in piles, some of them three feet high. We couldn't ask anything better--ash, too, regular blazers. They'll make a glorious bonfire." "And as we are going in to Boston in the evening to see the fire-works, why, we must have it early as we can in the morning," remarked Hugh. The next morning, as Douglas fancied himself on the point of lighting a huge fire-cracker that was to send up an enormous can with a picture of thirty-eight tomatoes on it, Hugh substituted a sound shaking for the expected explosion. "Hush," said he, in answer to Douglas's remonstrances. "It's been raining." "_Raining!_" repeated Douglas, in a tone as though rain on the Fourth of July were an impossible occurrence, and as unseasonable as a snow-storm. "Raining!" Five minutes later, Hugh and Douglas were out of sight and hearing, as, each with a hand on the cart, they ran lightly down the hill, and turned off at the first side road, walking and running by turns until Douglas announced, "Here we are!" "And so evidently is somebody else," added Hugh, as two little figures were noticed by the chip pile, rapidly filling a large basket. "They've come!" the boy had just whispered to his sister. "Halloo!" cried Douglas. "Goin' to celebrate?" "No, sir," in a girl's voice; "we uses 'em, sir." Whether the announcement that any one could be gathering chips without intention of celebrating was a revelation to Douglas, or whether the "sir" pleased him, is uncertain, but something had the effect of making him ignore Hugh's "Do come ahead, Dug, and help fill," as, suiting action to word, his brother threw an armful of the light wood into the cart. "You don't get up so early as this every morning?" queried Douglas, with surprise.