CAPTAIN

Ir is a great pity that so few persons can

swim well. Every year we read of those who are drowned by bathing, who would have been saved if they had only known how to swin. It is not at all difficult to learn to swim. Almost all persons will float if the chest be kept well filled with air whilst immersed in the water. But whilst it is easy to learn to swim, it requires a good deal of practice to swim well, the motion of the legs and arms being different from that of walking. The most extraordinary swimmer of our times, and indeed

EBB.

of any times, is Captain Webb, whose portrait will be found on page 104.

Two or three years ago he swam across the English Channel. It is supposed that on that occasion he swam not less than thirty miles. Probably a feat like this was never accomplished before. Not only does it indicate great skill, but also great physical strength and endurance.

We counsel all the boys who read the Hive to learn to swim. A little instruction from one who has learned the art, and a little perseverance, are all that is necessary.

URING the last few months, we dare say, many of our readers have heard something about the Bulgarian atrocities. Bulgaria, at present, belongs to Turkey. Its area is about 32,000 square miles, and the population is probably about 4,000,000. It is bounded on the North by the Danube, which separates it from Roumania; on the East, by the Black Sea; on the South, by a part of the Balkan mountains; and on the West by Servia. The plains of Bulgaria are well cultivated, and the hill-sides are covered with vineyards. A good deal of flax, hemp, and tobacco are grown, large quantities of wine are made, and fruits are abundant. Roses are cultivated very extensively for making perfumes. The Bulgarians are a quiet, industrious people; it is rare to see a beggar, and their wellbuilt dwellings, and neat fields and gardens, present a most favourable contrast to the villages of the Mahommedans.

The majority of the Bulgarians belong to the Greek Church. The beliefs of the Greek Church are in most points similar to those of the Romish Church: One of the fundamental differences is the rejection of

the authority of the Pope, and the denial of any visible representative of Christ upon earth. The Greek Church also allows the marriage of the priests, and rejects auricular confession. It recognises, however, the seven sacraments; authorises the offering of prayer to the saints and the Virgin Mary; and encourages the use of pictures, though forbidding that of images. It holds in reverence also the relics and tombs of holy men; enjoins strict fasting and the giving of alms; and numbers amongst its adherents numerous orders of monks and nuns. Baptism is administered by immersion, and prayers are offered for the dead. Public worship consists mostly of ceremonial observances. Preaching and reading of the Scriptures are not deemed of so much importance as with us, but in this matter there is a change for the better. Schools have been established amongst the people, and the American missionaries have rendered great service.

On page 105 our readers will see a portrait of a Bulgarian Minister.

We hope that the Bulgarians will soon be freed from the accursed rule of Turkey.

B

EI EAUTIFUL, however, as these spectacles were, I had not known what insects could effect in the way of illumination till I visited Jamaica. There, in the gorgeous night of a tropical forest, I saw them in their glory. In the glades and dells that open here and there from a winding mountain road, cut through the tall woods, I have delighted to linger and see the magnificent gloom lighted up by multitudes of fire-flies of various species, peculiarities in whose luminosity-of colour, intensity, and intermittence-enabled me to distinguish each from others. I delighted to watch and study their habits in these lonely spots, while the strange sounds, snorings, screeches, and ringings of nocturnal reptiles and insects, already described, were coming up from every part of the deep forest around, imparting to the scene a character which seemed as if it would suit the wearied hunter of German fable.

There are two kinds in particular, of larger size than usual, which are very conspicuous. One of these is more vagrant than the other, shooting about with a headlong flight, and rarely observed in repose. Its light appears of a rich orange hue when seen abroad; but it frequently flies in at open windows, and, when examined under candle light, its luminosity is yellow; when held in the fingers, the light is seen to fill the hinder part of the body with dazzling effulgence, which intermits its intensity. The other is more commonly noticed resting on a twig or leaf, where it gradually increases the intensity of its light till it glows like a torch; then, as gradually, it allows it to fade to a spark, and become extinct; in about a minute, however, it begins to appear again, and gradually in

creases to its former blaze, then fades again; strongly reminding the beholder of a revolving light at sea. The hue of this is a rich yellow green; and sometimes a lover of the former species will arrest its course, and, approaching one of these on a leaf, will play around it, when the intermixing of the orange and green lights has a most charming effect.

In the low land pastures of the same beauteous island there is another insect abundant, of much larger dimensions, which displays both red and green light. On the upper surface of the thorax there are two oval tubercles, hard and transparent, like "bull's eye" lights let into a ship's deck; these are windows out of which shines a vivid green luminousness, which appears to fill the interior of the chest. Then, on the under surface of the body, at the base of the abdomen, there is a transverse orifice in the shelly skin, covered with a delicate membrane, which glows with a strong ruddy light, visible, however, only when the wing cases are expanded. During the dark nights it is most interesting to mark these large beetles flying along over the herbage at the edges of the woods and in the pastures; the red glare, like that of a lamp, alternately flashing upon the beholder, and concealed according as the insect turns its body in flight; but the ruddy reflection on the grass beneath, being constantly visible as the animal leisurely pursues its course. Now and then the green light from the upper "bull's eye," which seems to be under the insect's control, is displayed, and then again the mingling of the two complementary colours, red and green, in the evolutions of flight, is indescribably beautiful.-Romance of Natural History.

N the coast of Norway there is an immense whirlpool, called by the natives Maelstrom, which signifies the navel, or the centre of the sea. The body of waters which form this whirlpool is extended in a circle about thirteen miles in circumference. In the midst thereof stands a rock, against which the tide, in its ebb, is washed with inconceivable fury, when it instantly swallows up all things which come within the sphere of its violence.

No skill of the mariner nor strength of rowing can work an escape. The seabeaten sailor at the helm finds the ship at first go in a current opposite his intentions; his vessel's motion, though slow in the beginning, becomes every moment more rapid; it goes round in circles, still narrower, till at last it is dashed against the rock and entirely disappears for ever.

And thus it fares with the thoughtless and hapless youth that falls under the power of any vicious habits. At first he indulges with caution and timidity, and struggles against the stream of vicious inclinations. But every relapse carries him down the current, the violence of which increases and brings him still nearer to the fatal rock in the midst of the whirlpool; till at length, stupefied and subdued, he yields without a struggle, and makes shipwreck of conscience, of interest, of reputation, and of everything that is dear and valuable in the human character.

Good habits, on the other hand, are powerful as bad ones; therefore no better advice can we give to youth than the following: :-"Choose the more rational and best way of living, and habit will soon make it the most agreeable."

NCE upon a time there was a poor little boy, who had been kept prisoner in a dark room so long that he had become used to the darkness and did not like the light. There was no window in the room; his food was handed up to him through a hole in the floor. The door had been so long closed that brambles and ivy had grown across it.

The poor little prisoner had become so used now to his small dark room that he thought it was as good as a king's palace. The door was not kept locked; but he did not care to open the door and to go out and be free.

At last, while he was asleep one day (for he could not tell the difference between day and night), he awoke and heard a knock at the door. He tried to go to sleep again, Lut he could not. He tried to keep himself

from hearing, by putting his hands to his ears; but the knocking would make itself heard. Then, at last, he felt obliged to get up and go toward the door. As soon as he half opened it, he saw a hand that held a lamp, whose light streamed into his dark room. He put his hands to his eyes, and was turning back to his bed in the corner, when he caught sight of the face of the person holding the lamp. The face seemed to say, "Please come out; I have been waiting for you a very, very long time." So he stepped out.

At first the sunlight seemed too bright, and the fresh air too chill, and the songs of the birds too loud. He looked back into his room, half wishing to return. But when he saw his prison by the light of day, it seemed so small and dismal and dirty that he felt

ashamed that he had ever liked it; and after breathing the fresh air he found the air of his old room so foul that he could not bear it, and he wondered how he could have been content to live there so long. So he bade good-bye to the prison, and never came back there again.

Perhaps you say to yourself, "What has this to do with me? I am not in the dark: I am not a prisoner."

It is true your body is not in prison, but what if your soul is? greedy and unkind and you are, you are in prison;

What if you are untruthful? If for you are shut

in with unkindness and greediness and untruthfulness. They are like walls, and you cannot get out of them, and you are SO accustomed to them that you are contented with your horrible prison,

"Think

Then Jesus comes to our heart. of Me," He says to us. Sometimes we do not like to listen to Him, or to think of Him. But Jesus is patient; so He keeps on saying to us, "Listen to Me; think of Me." Then when we think of Him, how good He is, how kind and gentle, how truthful and honest, we are ashamed and sorry and disturbed, because we are so unlike Him. We did not know how bad we were till we thought of Jesus. Sometimes we feel as though we should like to run back again away from Him, and be let alone in our badness. But Jesus will lead us onward out of all our faults into goodness and truth. Then when we are free, we shall look back and wonder how we could be content so long to keep away from Jesus in the prison of our faults.

R. ARDEN had two daughters, Jane and Martha, the one twelve years old, and the other thirteen, at the time the incident we are about to relate occurred. A little girl named Mary, about the age of Martha, also made one of the family of Mr. Arden. She was the orphan child of a friend, and had been received by Mr. Arden when quite young, and treated with all the kindness that marked his conduct towards his own children.

Mr. Arden was a man who understood very well that all the unhappiness existing in the world has its origin in selfishness; and that the true way to attain happiness was to seek the good of others. He often explained this to his children, and taught them that in preferring one another, in little as well as great things, they would experience more real delight than in selfishly looking to their own gratification. But this he found a very difficult lesson for

APPLE.

young minds to learn. Especially hard did it seem for Jane and Martha to prefer Mary in anything to themselves. They loved her because she was a gentle, sweet-tempered girl, and, therefore, they could not help loving her, but they loved themselves better.

One day, late in the winter, at a time when fruit was scarce, Mr. Arden, on coming home from his office, brought with him three large mellow pippins. They were intended for Jane, Martha, and Mary. While at tea, Mr. Arden mentioned the fact that he had three large apples in his coat pocket for the girls.

"Oh! give me mine," said Jane eagerly. "Give me mine, papa!" said Martha. But Mary said nothing, although she looked pleased.

"After tea you shall have them," replied Mr. Arden. "But let me tell you that there is something about these apples that will test, to some extent, your characters."