CURE FOR THE TOOTH-ACHE.――Fill your mouth with cream, and bump your head against a post till it turns to butter. ―――― EITHER WAY WILL DO.――“Wilt thou have me, Sarah?” said a modest young man to a girl whom he loved. “No, John,” was the reply of Sarah――“but you may have me, if you will!” ―――― “The rolling stone gathers no moss.” Unstable people seldom prosper. [Illustration] The Stormy Petrel. My course is o’er the sea, the sea, Where the wind roams free,―― Where the tempest flies On a wing of might, And the billow rolls In a robe of white! My course is o’er the tide, the tide, Where the fearless ride,―― Where the bloody deed In battle is done, And the gory wreath Of victory won! My course is o’er the deep, the deep, Where the lost ones sleep,―― Down, down in the hush Of a coral bed, Where the mermaid sighs O’er the lonely dead! My course is east――my course is west―― Where, where shall the petrel rest?―― In the cleft of a rock, Where the surges sweep, And lulled by the shock, Shall the petrel sleep. [Illustration] Bill and the Boys. I have been often requested by my young readers to tell them something more about Bill Keeler. I have, therefore, been rumaging over my memory, to see if I could pick up something about him, worth relating. Now Bill was a great story teller, and he with myself and several other boys, used often to get together, and amuse one another by relating such narratives as we could invent or recollect. Bill was always foremost on these occasions, and not only told the best, but the most stories. It is my purpose to present my readers with such of these tales as I can recollect. I shall not try to put them down in the exact language in which they were originally spoken,――but I shall give their substance and point. The first of these tales, I shall call THE LOTTERY TICKET. There was once a poor, but worthy man, whose name was Trudge. He was a pedler, and though he dealt only in pins, needles, thread, combs and such little articles, he succeeded in getting a comfortable living. Nay, more――he laid up a trifle every year, and finally he had enough to buy him a small house. He had a wife and two or three children, and to this humble cottage they speedily removed. Trudge thought himself very happy when he was snugly established at his new house. He kissed Mrs. Trudge, and all the little Trudges; danced “hey Betty Martin!” and thought himself one of the luckiest fellows in the world. And so he was, if he could have been content; but, alas! he was beset with certain very troublesome visiters; they were Ambition, Envy and Idleness. I must tell you all about it.