Oh, the funny little barn on a hill-side near our town! With two wee, squinting windows in a row, And a great wide-open door-way, like the mask-mouth of a clown, It seems to be forever saying, “Oh!” “Oh!” cries the little barn; “Oh!” If you break a china dish Or run away to fish, “Oh!” cries the little barn; “Oh!” One morning very early, we stole two pumpkin pies, And thought we’d go and eat them by the lake, But when we looked behind us, there stared those watchful eyes, And oh, they stared so hard it made us quake! And “Oh!” cried the little barn; “Oh!” If you stole a pumpkin pie To eat it on the sly, “Oh!” cried the little barn; “Oh!” “I tell you now,” said Jenny, “the old thing won’t keep still Until we put those pies right back, I know. Let’s slip ’round to the pantry and lay them on the sill, Or it will wake the folks up shouting, ‘Oh!’” For, “Oh!” cried the little barn; “Oh!” Till we put away those pies Before its very eyes, “Oh!” cried the little barn; “Oh!” [Illustration] WONDERS OF THE ALPHABET. BY HENRY ECKFORD. As I have already told you, men can convey ideas to one another by making various kinds of marks. They can also speak to one another without using spoken words, by means of gestures. Animals likewise gesticulate, though in a much cruder way. You have probably seen deaf-mutes converse, eying one another sharply while their fingers kept fluttering and their features working in a lively play of expression. They were speaking a silent language, which is the motion-language of animals and the signal-language of savages carried to the highest point. Watch in any black berry patch the large brown thrush, the cat-bird, or the chewink. Every motion of the bird as it bustles about, is unconcerned. But let it catch sight of you, or let its eyes fall on snake or hawk or cat, and you will see the difference in its motions. Four-footed wild animals exhibit different emotions, such as anger or alarm, by various movements of the head and limbs. Among savage nations, like our Indians and the wild tribes of Asia, whose nomadic habits cause their languages to become distinct from one another even when they belong to the same parent stock, and where intercourse is apt to be dangerous on account of feuds, the language of gestures has been wonderfully developed. A Zuñi will signal to an Apache, his enemy, and sustain a very full conversation with him across one of those tremendous canyons which are the marvel of our Southwest. For instance, putting the hand to the cheek and inclining the head means “sleep.” Touching the heart means, “I am sincere.” Thrusting forward the two fingers from the lips, to imitate the forked tongue of the snake, means, “you tell lies.”