Here is a chisel, or gouge, and, compared with the other tools, this may be called an implement made the day before yesterday. Those who have studied this kind of tool, found in the Swiss lakes, say it is not more than 2500 or 3000 years old. Ages on ages ago there was a race of people who lived in houses built on piles which stood in the water of the Swiss lakes. Nobody ever thought such a race existed until the level of one of the lakes was lowered, and then the secrets of a long-forgotten people were discovered. This tool is made of a piece of green serpentine embedded in a handle, which socket is a portion of the antler of a deer. It has still a good edge on it, though it has remained under water thousands of years. I might scrape off a bit of wood with it to-day. The handle, however, is weak, rotten through age, and would crumble.
This is what I should like to impress on my readers: Our work to-day is what is called specialized. By that is meant that everybody has a special or particular trade or occupation. I should not want a carpenter to make my clothes, or a locksmith to make my boots. Men become skilled because they exercise one craft, doing it quicker and better. In those old days there must have been artisans, as the stone tool maker, who made blunt implements, and nothing else; but from the nature of things those who used the tools had many occupations. Having but few tools, one implement served various purposes. The edge of the drill might be used to cut with, or, attached to a stock, could be converted into a weapon. Primitive man, then, had to be a "Jack of all trades," and was not, as in the old adage, "master of none," for he was forced to turn his hand to many different kinds of occupations.
[INDEPENDENCE DAY.]
With pomp of waving banners,
With beat of throbbing drums,
And shouts of happy people,
The joyous morning comes;
The very air is thrilling,
And every heart is gay,
For once again we welcome
Our Independence day.
'Twas a very little nation
That set apart "the Fourth";
'Tis a nation strong and mighty
Which keeps it, South and North.
Our flag of stars is floating
From surging sea to sea,
And beneath its folds we gather,
A people great and free.
Not the older Magna Charta
Was a pledge of braver hearts
Than the later Declaration
From which this proud day starts.
Stout souls they were that framed it,
Stout hands that signed and sealed,
And the birthright thus they gave us
We never more will yield.
So to gallant martial music
We are stepping down the street,
With the shrilling bugles calling,
And the drum's exulting beat,
While from every spire and steeple
There flutters, blithe and gay,
The flag we love and honor
This Independence day.
Margaret E. Sangster.