enough seen them. Most of them come from Russia, the Russian goose having a harder quilla "clouded" pen from the wing being the most dur. able of all-than our birds, though the German ones are said to possess the best plumage. These pens are now chiefly used by judges and lawyers, partly from custom, but mainly from ease of writing. It is stated that two dozen quills will last a man who knows how to mend them two or three months. Swan quills are occasionally used, but -as one would expect-they are much more expensive than the pens of the humble goose. Taking up a quill, an adept will make a pen in the "twinkling of an eye," the knife employed being a special one, with a handle tapering to a

point. The blunt end of the quill is first cut off, as not being tough enough. Next the thin end of the knife-handle is inserted, and the quill slit carefully for a short distance. Then two slanting cutsone on each sidecomplete the nib, after which the feather is trimined.

eight times, and it was found that though the speed of the sound was not affected by the height, there was a very decided difference in the strength. The report from the cannon at the lake was well heard on the mountain-top, while that from the latter was feeble; the strength of the sound being found to depend partly upon the density of the air

An Experiment in Switzerland. Scientific men have often to perform elaborate experiments for small results, but in the present case the question at issue was both interesting and instructive. Being desirous of testing the velocity of sound between two places of different heights above the sea-level, two Frenchmen arranged for a small brass cannon to be fired from the top of a mountain in Switzerland (Faulhorn) and another from a little village near Lake Brienz, 6,500 feet lower than the former spot. The cannon--which were those used by the homely villagers in their festivals-were discharged twenty

at the place of its production, and not at the place of its being heard. Thus, in order to produce a sound whose intensity should be the same at both spots, it was necessary to put eight parts of powder in the cannon on the mountain for every seven used in the charge for the gun by the lake.

Musical Sand.

A French traveller tells us that one of the most curious and interesting things he met with in his journey to Timbuctoo was musical sand. In crossing the desert he would often hear a prolonged smothered sound, not unlike the noise of a trumpet, proceeding from the sand-heaps which he was passing. It lasted for a few seconds and then stopped, only to break out in another

spot. The phenomenon was of so unusual a character that we can easily understand that the enterprising Frenchman, when he first heard the sound, felt somewhat anxious and alarmed, until his fears were completely allayed by the discovery of its nature and cause. These, after due inquiry, he found to be the burning hot grains of sand, laid one over the other and ever in motion, which were rubbing against each other. When they had all been shaken down into their proper places the peculiar sound of course ceased.

LILY'S

T was on one Christmas Eve, and Lily and Harry

had been

busy all day. You know how busy little children

feel when they are al

lowed to watch big people unpacking boxes and parcels, and to take a peep at cook in the kitchen. Lily felt quite as anxious as cook when she saw how much there was to be done, and she came into the dining-room where her mother and father and aunts and uncles were sitting, and said to her little brother

"Harry, we must try and help, or everything will be late for Christmas Day."

"What can we do?" inquired Harry, who was a fat little boy, and never liked to be busy, except when he was playing, "The pudding's made, so it will be all right!"

"Oh, Harry, there are lots of other things besides pudding!" said Lily, trying to look as big as her own mamma; "and I have something to do in the drawing-room which is quite a secret, so you must not come."

If Lily had not said it was a secret, Harry would have sat where he was, contented to eat his orange and watch the big people; but now he thought he must find out what Lily was about.

SECRET.

So he crept along the passage, and saw Julia, the housemaid, carry a wreath of holly and evergreens into the drawing-room. She did not shut the door after her as Lily had done, so Harry was able to slip in without being seen.

"Won't it be lovely, Miss Lily?" said Julia; "now you step up on the chair, and I'll hand you the wreath to fix up."