“Well,” he replied, “there was once an Italian named Guiglielmini, who wanted to try an experiment in which it was necessary that some balls should fall through perfectly still air from a certain height. So in August, 1791, he went up on a tower in Bologna, and tied the balls to the top with long, silken threads. Then he waited for a perfectly still day. Sometimes the air was quiet, but the tower would slightly tremble, and at other times the tower was steady, but the air was in motion. At last, in February, 1792, there came a day when the air and the tower were both still, and he climbed up as softly as a cat, and gently set his threads on fire, and down dropped the balls!” “And what was the experiment?” asked the Little School-ma’am. “Oh, it had something to do with the motion of the earth!” said the Deacon, as he walked away, smiling. HOW HE PROVED IT. That reminds me, by the way, of a funny rhyme sent to the Little School-ma’am by a friend of hers, Miss E. L. Sylvester. Here it is: A clever old man of Montrose Said: “I’ll balance my cane on my nose; For so shall I prove That the world doesn’t move As a great many people suppose.” WALKING WITHOUT LEGS. A little girl has sent you a question. She says she found three pretty brownish shells in the woods, one day, and she took them home to her little brother. They looked, she says, “very like similar shells that often are found on the sea-shore.” Well, she put them on the sunny piazza, and ran to find Bobby.—And now you shall have the rest of the story in her own words: “Bobby was eating bread and molasses, and so he ran out of the kitchen all sticky. When we went together to look at the shells, lo, and behold! the shells were gone! They had walked around the corner of the piazza. And, oh Jack, what do you think? We watched them, and they kept on walking! And they hadn’t any legs! “Now this is a true story, dear Jack, and I want you to tell it to little boys and girls younger than Bobby and me (or Bobby and I, whichever is right), and see if they know how those shells walked, and what kind of shells they were, and if any other little boys and girls ever found any of the same sort in their woods or gardens. “Your little friend, “JAMESETTA C. “I take up my pen again to say that we all know, of course, that snakes move along the ground without legs. But they do that motion entirely with their own insides, don’t they? Those shells couldn’t possibly move as snakes do. “For fear you may think my name is strange, I will tell you that I am named after my grandfather, only James wouldn’t do for a girl.” A QUEER SUNSHADE.