several days, and you may be sure that people who bathe in the sea and
meet the Jelly-Fish once are very careful to keep out of his way after-
ward.

Another name the Jelly-Fish bear, and a very appropriate one, too, is that
of Sea-Lantern. They are so called because they have the power to send out
a light which looks beautiful in the night, and which always attracts the at-
tention of mariners when they come in sight of the shining object. If you can
imagine the surface of a large body of water covered with millions upon mil-
lions of fire-flies, each one sending out his little light, you can imagine faintly
thé beauty of the ocean when lighted up by the Jelly-Fish. When the sunlight
strikes upon these fish they reflect all the colors and tints of the rainbow, yet
such a sight is not so grand and imposing as when viewed in the darkness and
stillness of the night. It is, indeed, a wonderful sight to watch the silent
waters shining with Jelly-Fish in the night and contrast it with the surrounding
gloom. It also fills one with rapture to stand at mid-day and watch these
wonderful creatures pressing in great shoals through the clear waters, trailing
behind them their delicate fringes of waving cilia and rolling gently over as if in

excess of happiness.
~<a

(ong Argo.

WO IN her lap gran’ma did hol’ me;
Smoothed my apron down—just so;

 

She’s a May queen—long ago;
W’en they had May queens, you know,
Long ago, long, l-o-n-g ago.

Gran’ma’s hair is thin, an’ so white,
An’ her face is—puckered so;

But she’s sweeter, by enuff sight,
Than some younger folks I know.
Don’t you see how dandeli’ns blow—
Turn their gold all into snow?
Gran’ma’s hair—it done jes’ so,
Long ago, long, l-o-n-g ago.

Hair was golden, like the sunlight,
Eyes wuz blue, an’ cheeks wuz red.
An’ her skin wuz smooth an’ so white—
That is jes’ w’at gran’ma said.

All in white from tip to toe,
She was May queen, long ago,
Long ago, l-o-n-g, long ago.

Jes’ like fairies in green bowers,

Singin’, dancin’ on the green,
Pickin’ out the brightest flowers
Fur to deck their little queen,
Lads and lassies, ’round they go,
Dancin’, singin’, bowin’ low,
Long ago, long, l-o-n-g ago.

Gran’ma stops. “Im tired,” says she;
“Now go away, dearie.” An’ I go—
But it’s queer what she can see now,
Lookin’ far off an’ sighin’ so;
An’ I hear her whisperin’ low;
“Polly, Betsey, John an’ Jo
Gone, all gone, so long ago,
Long ago, long, !-o-n-g ago.”
—By Lrssie C. BAER