horrible sea monster to which she was exposed.

At last, he burnt himself to death on a funeral pile, formed of trees, which he had torn up by the roots, when driven to distraction by the intense agony he suffered from a garment poisoned by the Lernean hydra. He was represented as a prodigiously muscular man, clothed in the skin of the Nemean lion, and leaning upon a formidable club. The poplar

tree was consecrated to him.

"The choirs of old and young in lofty lays,
Resound great Hercules' immortal praise,
How, first, his infant hands the snakes o'erthrew,
That Juno sent; and the dire monsters slew.
What mighty cities, next, his arms destroy,
Th' Oechalian walls, and stately tow'rs of Troy.
The thousand labors of the hero's hands,
Enjoined by proud Euristheus' stern commands,
And Jove's revengeful Queen. Thy matchless
might

O'ercame the cloud-born Centaurs in the fight,
Hylæus, Pholus sunk beneath thy feet.

And the grim bull whose rage dispeopled Crete;
Beneath thy arm Nemea's lion fell;

Thy arm with terror fill'd the realms of hell.
Nor Lerna's fiend thy courage could confound,
With her hundred heads that hissed around.
Hail, mighty chief! advanced to heav'n's abodes,
Hail, son of Jove! A God amongst the Gods.

Pitt's Virgil.

Allied to Hercules we find the names of Theseus, Dædalus and Jason.

Theseus was the son of Egeon, king of Athens; a hero who, like Hercules, went about destroying oppressors and combating wild beasts. Pirithous, king of the Laputhæ, a people of Thessaly, was his friend, and his companion in many of his enterprises. The poets relate a number of extravagant tales about them both.

Daedalus was great grandson of Erectheus, king of Athens, the most ingenious and celebrated artist of Greece; a skillful architect and most expert sculptor. He invented the wedge, the axe, the level, and the auger, and was the first who made use of sails. He is said to have built for Minos, king of Crete, an edifice

Medea, daughter of Aetes, king of Colchis, who fell in love with and accompanied him to Greece. Hercules; Telamon; Castor and Polluxthe famous twin sons of Jupiter and Leda, the former celebrated for his skill in horsemanship, the latter in pugilism-Orpheus, the great musician and poet; Calais and Zethes, the winged sons of Boreas; all these, together with Lynceus, famous for astonishingly quick sight, and many other famous heroes, were engaged in this great expedition.

The various gods and goddesses hitherto described are the principal ones we find mentioned in Greek and Roman mythology. We see that underlying all of them is a basic principle of truth, although the preponderance of error is so great as to render it a very difficult matter indeed to discern it. We shall conclude this the first part of our subject with a brief description of the seven ancient wonders of the world, as this is a very appropriate place for such description.

SEVEN ANCIENT WONDERS OF THE

WORLD.

First: The Colossus of Rhodes, a statue of Apollo, seventy cubits high; striding across the mouth of the harbor, so that a large ship, under sail, could pass between its legs. A man could not grasp its thumb with his two arms. After having stood fifty years it was overthrown by an earthquake.

Second: The Temple of Diana at Ephesus, an edifice of astounding magnificence. It was supported by one hundred and twenty-seven pillars, each sixty feet high. It took two hundred and twenty years to finish it It was designedly set on fire on the day that Alexander the Great was born, by a wretch called Erostratus, who hoped that by so doing he would hand his name down to posterity.

and most magnificent marble, embellished with gold and precious stones. It was built by Artemesia, Queen of Caria, in honor of her deceased husband, Mausolus.

Fourth: A statue of Jupiter, in his temple, in the city of Olympia, formed with wonderful art, by Phidias, of ivory and gold. The statue was of the most prodigious proportions.

Fifth: The walls of Babylon, built by Semiramis, whose circumference was sixty miles, and whose breadth was so great that six chariots could drive upon them abreast.

Sixth The pyramids of Egypt, three of which still remain to astonish mankind, alike for their mammoth size and the apparent significance of the measurements. The largest of them is one hundred and forty-three feet long and one thousand feet high. It is constructed of enormous stones, thirty feet thick. It is recorded that three hundred and sixty thousand men were employed in building it during the period of twenty years. It is supposed that they were intended as sepulchres for the kings of Egypt.

Seventh The palace of Cyrus, King of Persia, which is recorded to have been a most splendid edifice, of which the stones were cemented with gold. It was built with equal skill and magnificence by an architect named Menon.

Geo. F. Phillips, M.A. Principal Weber Stake Academy, Ogden.

WITHIN.

Our lives are made of thoughts
As well as deeds;
Within ourselves is comfort great
As are our needs.

Not grandeur rare nor pow'r
Can furnish peace;
Content at home is richer wealth
Than golden fleece.

He lives life best who looks

To his own soul

For courage to press ever on
To a great goal.

Kennon.

"I never trod a rock so bare

Unblessed by verdure-brightened sod, But some small flower, half hidden there Exhaled the fragrant breath of God." My acquaintance with Tallie dates back to my first day's experience as a school teacher. I will never forget that first day-nor Tallie. They are companion pictures, stamped indelibly on my memory.

was

The afternoon session of that first day's school had just begun. I had barely succeeded in getting a little order out of the chaos which reigned, when the door opened with a push, and the figure of a little girl darted through the doorway into the room. She left the door open and making rapid strides up the aisle. "Close the door, please," said I, trying not to appear vexed. Of course the whole school turned and looked. The girl went back and placing her weight against the door, closed it with a bang. Then she marched up to my desk, where she stood for an instant looking at me.

I, too, had to gaze. She was a small girl, perhaps eight or nine years old. Her form was slender, and she carried a well-shaped head well back on her shoulders. A mass of brown hair hung in tangled confusion down her back. I noticed that it had been tied with a bit of soiled blue ribbon which had slipped down to the extreme ends and was on the point of falling off altogether. Just a small circle on her face-encompassing the eyes, nose and mouth-had been washed clean, especially for the occasion, I judged. A blue gingham apron covered a shabby dress. Her shoes were new; by the ring on the floor, I knew the soles were made to wear. In her left hand she swung a straw hat to and fro by the strings. She was a curious bit of humanity, thought I. There was something so strange, so unlike the other children about her. Did she belong to the same race or

did she come from up in the mountains where she had lived all her days with nymphs and goblins? No, she held up a slate and a book with but one cover-these were articles of human manufacture for mortals to

use.

"Mr. Schoolteacher, I'm comin' in to school now," she said. "I couldn't come this forenoon, cuz Bill didn't have my shoes ready."

"All right, little girl. What's your name?" "Tallie."

"Tallie what? What more?" I enquired.

"Oh, Tallie, Bill White's girl."

Here my school, without being asked, gave me plenty of information. regarding her. She was Tallie, Bill White's girl-Bill White who lived. up in the "Hotel." I had scarcely got order restored again, when Tallie arose and with great earnestness announced in a loud voice:

"Say, teacher, I haint got no slate pencil. I wanted Sal to give me an egg to buy one with at the store, but she said she didn't have any. I know she did though cuz I seed the old red hen————”

You

"Well, well, never mind. can get one tomorrow." I quieted her, gave her a seat by my desk and in the evening enrolled her as my twenty-seventh pupil.

It is many years ago since I taught my first school. I was quite young then, not twenty. I had "graduated with honor," from the Normal department of the high school and, equipped with my certificate, I was ready for a position. Mountain Dale needed a teacher for the winter, so I was informed by the chairman of the board of trustees, who coming to town with a drove of cattle, engaged

me in conversation from the back of

his horse. I conferred with my old teacher. It was, of course, an ungraded school, and the salary was low.

"Take it," he said. It will be just the experience you want to bring out what teaching qualities there are in you."

Mountain Dale is twenty miles from the city, a small settlement just where the valley closes in to form the canyon; a wild romantic spot. It was quite late in the fall when I arrived to open school. Jack Frost had already painted the fields and mountains with his many colorsespecially the mountains, those grand old piles of the Wasatch! They reared their hoary heads on each side of the narrow valley. Though no summer rains come to make possible a green dress, there is something so grand about them. Though bare and brown, they are rugged and stately. And when one comes right up among them, as at Monntain Dale. he feels the giant's breath and tastes of the wild air as it circles around the peaks and comes as a breeze through the clefts down to the vales below. And then there is such an awe-inspiring silence up among the mountains, a silence made doubly still by the sighing wind or the soft silence of some distant waterfall.

As I walked up from the railroad station on the morning of my arrival at Mountain Dale I noticed that the highest peaks had donned their caps of snow. The air was bracing cold,

As I

at

and I buttoned my overcoat. passed the farm-houses I saw faces the windows and no doubt there were exclamations of "There goes the teacher!" The houses were scattered along the road, as a rule on the upper side, on the slopes of the dry hills.

I had heard that at the time of the building of the railroad, Mountain Dale had been quite a prosperous place, having had stores and hotels; but when the rails were laid through. the canyon, and the trains passed on to the valley below, they took with them the business and life of the camp and left a sleepy village behind.

But the "Hotel" stood there yet, a large frame building, some distance from the road. In those early days. prosperity had been transitory. The building was therefore but a "shell" now tumbled in and fast going to its native elements. One wing, however, showed signs of previous paint and repair, and in this part life was visible. On one side of the door was a woodpile; on the other, the long accumulated kitchen refuse.

The stores were used as barns now, and the one saloon had been converted into a stable. Where once the merchant bartered for grain and the bartender dealt out that which destroys, now stood the plow horses of the farmer and the cow contentedly chewed her cud.

The same day I went to look at the school house. Strange to say, it was not perched on the dryest, most barren, and in winter the coldest hill that could be found. It was below the road, well back in a hay field. In the days of Mountain Dale's prosperity, it had been painted white. Grass and weeds grew rank, covering the path and reaching up the sides to the windows. I brushed away a cobweb hanging right across the doorway. Alas, that the children of Mountain Dale had been deprived of those happiest of school days-summer time, with mountain breezes and green fields with which to mingle with their lessons! An unutterable sense of loneliness came over me at the scene and thought that here was to be my field of labor. These meagre surroundings, and being hemmed in by walls of stone, did not seem so stifling as the contracted social conditions. To bury myself up here like this, thought I. Well, I must make my field of operations the boundless souls of my pupils-there will be scope enough for me!

You see, I was fresh from school, I had with me all my beautiful theories and grand ideals, and the sight of them buoyed me up.

Well, my first day of actual work came. I wished to make the first impressions good as I understood that it was those that counted. I tried to apply the teachings I had received to my school. What a task it was? How conspicuously real was the real, and how far off the ideal! My whole stock of fair images was destroyed; but strange to say, during the peaceful silences of the night, some fairy hand builded them up again. Yes, only to be smashed and erected over again, times without number. Still, I have them with me today, the same beautiful ideals, only a little modified and embellished by each resuscitating process.

But there! I am dealing too much with generalities, I fear, and my story has to do with but one member of my school. My text book on psychology informed me that a teacher should study the temperaments of his pupils and apply this knowledge in regulating and governing his school. I tried to classify my pupils according to this theory. Tallie White was certainly of a bilious temperament. So the second day I placed her by the side of a roundlimbed, rosy-cheeked girl. It wasn't ten minutes before there was a scuffle and Tallie was pushed off the seat onto the floor.

I enquired what was the matter.

"I don't want to sit with Bill White's girl," explained the girl of sanguine temperament. I gave Tallie another seat, but with the same result. No one would sit with "Bill White's girl''-they did not say Tallie till I, with some emphasis, required it of them-and I found that there was a general hostile feeling towards the child. So, I gave her a seat by herself which seemed to please her as much as it did the others.

Tallie was a study; and it took me a long time to understand her-in fact I never did until that twentysecond day of February of which I will relate shortly.

Her disposition was a peculiar makeup of reticent moods and bold affrontery. At times she was very quiet and a gentle spirit seemed to predominate. At other times Tallie was stern and sullen, a sort of mind callousness, I thought. At such times no amount of coaxing or scolding would get her to prepare her lessons. She would steal other pupils' pencils and nicknacks. She would slyly pinch some unaware child and then blame some one else for the mischief. She was apt at rough slang phrases. rough slang phrases. But her greatest fault was that of telling untruths. When her mean "streak" was on I could never trust her, not even in the most commonplace matters. Nevertheless I felt an interest in Tallie; perhaps because of her peculiarities. I talked to her during recesses and sometimes detained her after school. When we were alone I tried to draw her out, but she was a puzzle still. She called her mother "Sal" and her father “Bill.” She had no brother or sister "cept a little baby that just come," she informed me.

I questioned her about the baby one evening-she had been restless during the day. At the mention of the baby the hard face relaxed and her eyes sparkled. I got her to talk and tell me all about it, and when I asked her if I could call some evening and see it, she gave a quick assent. Then she suddenly grew serious as if doubtful of the propriety of my making such a visit.

As I remember it was about two weeks before Christmas, when, Tallie having been absent for a number of days, I decided to call and see what was the matter. The evening was cold, the canyon wind piling the snow in fence corners and in the lee of the houses. A feeling of timidity crept over me as I made my way up the path towards the "Hotel." The drifting snow had covered the usual display of debris by the door. answer to my knock the door was opened by a woman, who with a

In