Full text of "Merry's museum for boys and girls, 1844"

From the collection of the

PreTinger

v JUibrary
t P

San Francisco, California
2006

1G45

1853

,<;

[ ~>

L. .- . - ; J X W. /' -

ROBERT HERRI'S

MUSEUM.

EDITED BY

S. G. GOODRICH,

AUTHOR OP PETER PARLEY'S TALES,

VOLUME VII.

BOSTON-
BRADBURY, SODEN & CO.,
No. 12, SCHOOL STREET.
1844.

Stereotyped by George A. Curtis, New England Type and Stereotype Foundry.

si 3 v Hd w sin

JANUARY TO JUNE, 1844.

January, 1

London Print-seller. 4

A Test, "

Significant "

The Thorn, 5

Old Man in the Corner, . 6,43,82,116,145,176

Don't give up the Ship, 10

Cure for the Tooth-ache, .... 12

Either way will do,

The Stormy Petrel, "

Bill and the Boys, . . 13, 69, 109, 139, 185
Pictures of Various Nations,! 6, 56, 86, 113, 146, 170

Fresh Water, 19

Light, 20

Herons and Rooks 24

Spectral Illusions, 25

Bats, 26

Yankee Wit, 27

Musician in Ohio, "

Kin Than, 28

Our Correspondence, . . 30,94,124,190

Music, ' 32

February, 33

The Three Sovereigns, .... 34

Written on a Boy's Marble, ... "

Inquisitive Jack, . . 35, 75, 106, 130, 163

, Dick Boldhero, . . .33,66,98,135,173

* The Indian and his Dog, .... 40

'** Husking the Corp., 42

The Sea, 45

Snow-balling, 46

Anecdote of Washington, .... 47

Question on Mathematics, .... "

The use of Telescopes, 48

The Lotus, 50

The Miller and the Fool, .... "

The Indian Dandy, 51

The Locust, 52

St. Patrick and Father Mathew, ... 53

The real Culprit, 54

Combat between a Falcon and Serpent, . 55

The Papyrus, "

Pigeon Coves, 56

Bonaparte and the Leg of Mutton, . . 53

Names of Countries and Places, ... 59

Snuff-taking, "

Squirrels, 60

Consolation in Sea Sickness, ... 61

The Blue Jay, 62

Lines placed" over a Chimney-piece, . . "

A German, "

Shoe Black and his Dog, .... 63

Advertisement Extra, "

Pat-riotism, "

To our Readers, ....
The Snow Flakes. A Song,

March,

The Old Mansion, ....

The Desman,

City of Ancient Babylon,

The Leopard,

The Pyramids of Egypt,
A Monster of the Deep, . . , *
The Sperm Whale, ....
The Cottager to her Infant, .

Squirrels

A Winter Evening in the Country,
The Little Soldier, ...
Evening. A Song,

April, k .

William Ellery Channing, .
Chinese Ingenuity, ...
Effect of Climate, ....

The Morse,

Promotion from the Ranks, .

Family Men,

Nine of Diamonds, ....
Sharp Retort, . . . .

The Leming

Persia,

How to get Letters Free,
Love One Another, ....
Varieties, . . . 3L i
May,

95,

Deserts of Africa and Asia, .
The Merry Knight, ....
Anecdote of a Tiger, . . .
Miss Pappoo, .....
I don't want to go, . . . .
A Chinese Dandy, .
A thrilling Narrative, .
Demosthenes, .....
Walking on Stilts, ....
The Goldfinch. A Song, .
June, . . . . .

Sketches in Egypt, ....
What 's in a Name, ....
The Five Dollar Bill, .

The Lark

Origin of the names of the U. S.,
Battle between a Rat and Crab, .
Blue Beard and his Castle, .
A Horse stung to death, . .
The Flowers of Spring, . .

Boisterous Preaching, . . .
Letter to Peter Parley, .
Peter Parley's answer, .
The Lily. A Song, . . .

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1844, by S. G. GOODRICH, in the Clerk's
Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.

MERRY'S MUSEUM,

Vol. VII.

1844.

No. 1.

WELL here we are again ! The old
year has passed away, and the
new one has come. How rapidly
the months have flown ! It seems
but a brief space since our last farewell
to the old year, and since we greeted
you all with wishes of a happy new one.
And yet, within that space, this great
world on which we live has made its
annual journey of three hundred mil-
lions of miles around the sun and we
have kept it company. The year 1843
has departed, and carried up to heaven
its record of good and of evil !

And we are now at the threshold of

VOL. VII. 1

another year; we are about to begin a
new race to perform a new journey.
The year 1844 is an untried region an
unknown country. What may be there
in store for us, we cannot say. But let
us start with cbeerful hearts, with hope-
ful anticipations, and with a stock of
good resolutions.

It is the first day of January, that
cold and stormy month, which the an-
cients represented under the image of
an old man, with a long beard, such as
appears at the head of this article. Boys
and girls I wish you all a happy new
year ! But what are mere wishes ?

JANUARY.

They are idle breath a mockery of
words, unless the heart goes with them.
And my heart, on the present occasion,
does go with my words. I not only wish
you a happy new year, my friends, but,
so far as in me lies, I intend to make it
a happy one for my readers. I have in
store for them not cake and candy
not sweetmeats and sugar-plums but
rhymes and riddles fables and allego-
ries prose and poetry lays and le-
gends fact and fancy in short, a gen-
eral assortment of such things as belong
to a literary museum for young people.
And although I profess to deal in mat-
ters that may amuse my friends, I have
still a desire that, while they are enter-
tained, they shall be instructed. The
only way to be happy really and truly
happy is to be wise ; and wisdom
comes through teaching through edu-
cation. I think I can make this very
plain, if you will listen to me a few mo-
ments.

You know there are such people as
savages those who roam wild in the
woods, or dwell in wigwams, sitting
upon the ground, and sleeping upon the
skins of beasts ; those who have no
books, nor schools, nor churches ; those
who have never read the Bible ; those
who know not Jesus Christ, nor the ten
commandments.

Well what makes the difference be-
tween these wild, savage people, and
those who live in good houses, in towns
and cities, and have all the comforts and
conveniences of life ? Knowledge makes
the whole difference, and knowledge
comes by instruction by education. Do
my little readers know that without edu-
cation they would be savages ? Yet it

is really so. All are born alike the
child of the savage, and the child of the
Christian. One grows up a savage, be-
cause its father and mother do not send
it to school do not furnish it books, do
not teach it to read and to write. The
other grows up a Christian, because it
is instructed it is educated. Educa-
tion, therefore, makes us to differ.

Now, what do you think of this ? Do
you observe, that all our little friends,
who hate books, and school, and instruc-
tion, are trying to be like little savages ?
Bah ! I hope none of my readers are so
unreasonable. I hope they see that it is
best for them to be Christians and as
far as possible from the savage state. I
think one thing is very clear : our good
Father in heaven, whom we ought all
to love and obey, did not intend us to be
savages ; and, at the same time, he has
provided only one way to avoid it and
that is by education. He makes it our
duty, therefore, as well as our happiness,
to seek instruction education.

This design of Providence is very ap-
parent, when we compare man with ani-
mals. Birds and beasts do not go to
school ; they are provided with all need-
ful knowledge by that power which we
call instinct. A little chicken, only a
day old, will run about and pick up
seeds, which lie scattered among the
stones and dirt. How does the chicken
know that seeds are made to eat, and
that stones are not made to eat ? How
does the chicken distinguish the whole-
some and nutritious seed, from the dirt
and gravel ? God has taught it God
has given it a wonderful instinct, by
which it is guided in the choice and dis-
covery of its food.

JANUARY.

But the infant has no such instinct ;
left to itself, it will pick up dirt, stones,
pins anything that comes in its way
and put all into its little greedy mouth !
The child has to be taught everything
by its parents or its nurse. It must be
taught what is good and what is evil
what to seek, and what to shun.

The chicken runs about, as soon as it
is hatched ; the child must be taught
first to creep, then to walk. The chick-
en, left to itself, though but a day old,
will hide from the hawk that would de-
vour it ; the child, if left to itself,
would as soon go into the fire, or the
water, or the bear's mouth, as anywhere
else. The chicken is guided by instinct
the child by instruction.

Thus it appears, that, while instinct is
the guide of the animal world, education
is the instrument by which children are
to reach their true destiny. God meant
us to be educated; and children who
hate education, hate God's will and
God's way; they hate the road that
leads to their own happiness. Think of
that black-eyes and blue-eyes ! think
that when you resist instruction, you
resist the will of Providence, and sin
against your own peace ! The designs
of Providence, in respect to animals and
mankind, appear very striking from
other considerations. Now a beaver is
a natural architect, and his instinct not
only teaches him the art of house-build-
ing, but he has a set of tools ready fur-
nished. He has sharp teeth, with which
he cuts down trees, and divides them into
proper lengths: thus his teeth answer
both as hatchet and saw. His tail i*
flat, and when he has laid on his mortar,
he turns round and spats it with his tail,

which operates like a mason's trowel*
So here is a carpenter and mason, both
in one, educated by nature and provided
with a set of tools, scot free. What a
happy fellow !

So it is with the woodpecker ; he
never learnt a trade, or paid a shilling
for tools yet he knows how to chisel
out his hole in a dry tree and his bill
answers as both gouge and hammer.
The spider has no shuttle or loom ; he
never had a lesson in the factories of
Lowell yet he weaves his ingenious
web and he sets it, too, so as to take
his prey.

Surely, Providence has taken care of
these creatures in a wonderful way.
And perhaps you think that God has
been more kind to them than to human
beings ; for while He teaches the animal
world, He leaves children to schoolmas-
ters ; and while He teaches the beavers
and the birds their trade, and furnishes
their tools, gratis boys and girls must
serve seven years for a trade, and pay
for their tools when they have done !

But let us look a little farther. It is
true that if children refuse to learn re-
fuse to be educated they remain igno-
rant, and like savages. But children
can learn, if they will. Education is
offered to them and, if it is improved,
what is the result ? Look around, and
see what mankind, who have obeyed the
will of God, and who have improved
their faculties by education, see what
they are, and what they have done.
The instinct of the beaver is very won-
derful but, after all, it only enables the
beaver to build rude mounds of earth,
wood and stone, which serve as its
abode ; and also enables it to provide its

JANUARY.

simple food of roots and grass and fruits.
This is the whole stretch of instinct.

But let us look at the results of edu-
cation, operating upon the faculties of
man. Look at Boston what a mighty
city ! How many houses and if we go
into them, how beautiful how conve-
nient ! Look at the paved streets the
pleasant side-walks ! Go into the shops,
and see the beautiful merchandises. Go
into the Museum, in Tremont street, and
see the wonders there, gathered from the
four quarters of the globe. Go down to
the waters and see the ships, made to
plough the mighty ocean, and hold in-
tercourse with the ends of the earth.
Go to the Atheneum, and see the stores
of knowledge, which man has discov-
ered. Go to the churches, and see the
people holding communion with that
God who built the earth, and spread out
the heavens. Open the Bible, and read
the wonders of revelation the immor-
tality of the soul the mighty plan of
man's salvation. Go to the fireside, and
see the comfort the peace the happi-
ness, which are there. And remember
that all these things every one of them
is the product of education. Oh, who
then would be content with instinct,
merely because it is easy, and costs no-
thing ; and spurn education, because it
requires effort ?

Education, then, is a great and glori-
ous thing ; but remember that you must
take advantage of it. The old adage
says "One man may lead a horse to
water, but ten can't make him drink."
It is so with children in education : it is
easy to send them to school easy to
put books before them easy to give
them good counsel ; but if they will not

try to learn, they will not learn. You
cannot teach an unwilling mind. When
I was a boy, I caught a blue jay, and
put him in a cage ; but the fellow
would n't eat. I got hold of his head,
and opened his mouth, and put some
cherries down, but he wouldn't swal-
low ; and as soon as I let him go, he
threw it all up ; and so he died ! Now,
this is just the way with some boys and
girls they will not take knowledge into
their minds ; they reject good counsel ;
even if you cram it down, they throw it up.
Is n't that bad ? Yes very bad indeed.
Now ladies and gentlemen boys
and girls walk up, here 's Merry's
Museum for 1844 ! We are going to
set matters all right; we are going to
show the advantages of education, the
pleasures of education, the duty of edu-
cation. We shall have our sweetmeats
and sugar-plums, as we go along; but
still still we mean to know a great
deal more at the end of the year, than
we do now ! We mean to lay up a good
stock of knowledge, which may last us
through life. Who will go with us ?

A LONDON printseller advertises, " A
head of Charles I., capitally executed."

A TEST." Never," said the celebra-
ted Lord Burleigh, "trust a man who is
unsound in religion, for he that is false
to his God can never be true to man."

SIGNIFICANT. An old picture repre-
sents a king sitting in state with a label,
" I govern all ;" a bishop, with a legend,
" I pray for all ;" a farmer, drawing
forth, reluctantly, a purse, with the in-
scription, " I pay for all."

THE THORN.

The Thorn.

THERE was once a boy, named James,
who, with his little brother and sis-
ter, was going to take a walk in the
fields and woods. It was a beauti-
ful warm day, and James thought he
would take off his stockings and shoes,
and go barefoot.

I suppose my young friends all know
how pleasant it is to take off the cover-
ing of the feet, in a warm summer day,
and run about on the smooth grass.
How light one feels how swift one can
run with his foot free as that of the
mountain deer !

Now it happened that James had been
forbidden by his mother to take off his
stockings and shoes, for she was afraid
that he would take cold. But he was

now at a distance from home, and he
thought he would do as he liked. So
he took off his stockings and shoes.

Oh, how he did scamper about for a
time ; but, by and by, as he was skip-
ping along, he stepped upon a thorn,
which entered the bottom of his foot, and
inflicted a severe wound. As it gave
him great pain, he sat down and tried to
pull out the thorn ; but, alas ! it had en-
tered quite deep, and had then broken
off in such a manner, that he could not
get hold of it. There he sat for some
time, not knowing what to do but at
last he was obliged to hobble home as
well as he could.

James told his mother what had hap-
pened, for how could he help it ? " Ah

THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER.

ah my son ! " said she, " this comes
of your disobedience. When will chil-
dren learn that parents know what is
best for them?" However, the good
woman set to work to try to get out the
naughty thorn, but she could not suc-
ceed.

By this time James was in great pain ;
so his mother put on a poultice, hoping
that would cure it. But the poor fellow
did n't sleep any all night, he was in
such distress, and in the morning his
foot was sadly swollen. The doctor

was then sent for, and at last he suc-
ceeded in getting out the thorn ; but poor
James had a sad time of it. It was at
least three weeks before he got quite
well. But the event was a good lesson
to him. Whenever, in after life, he was
tempted to disobey his mother, he said
to himself " Mother knows best re-
member the thorn ! " Whenever he was
tempted to seize upon any forbidden
pleasure, he would always say " Re-
member the thorn ! "

The Old Man in the Corper; or, the Pedler's Pack,

io-r long since, an old man a veryll little like old Peter Parley but it can't
old man came into the office of/ be that it was he, for some say Peter is
Merry's Museum, and sat down in! dead and, at any rate, he is not to be
a corner of the room. He looked af | seen about these days.

THE BLUES.

After the old man had sat for some
time, saying nothing to anybody, and
only looking about with a kind of mourn-
ful countenance, he got up, and slowly
marched away. When he was gone, one
of the boys found a little parcel on the
bench where the old man sat, addressed
to " Mr. Robert Merry ; care of Bradbury
& Soden, 10 School street, Boston."

On opening the paper, we found an
old greasy book within, written full of
tales, fables, sketches, &c. ; some of
them very good indeed, and some very
queer. The title of the little book was
the " Pedler's Pack," and it had the fol-
lowing motto :

Come, all my youthful friends, come near

For every one I 've something here :

Anecdotes for those who choose

Rhymes for all who love the muse

Riddles and conundrums bless 'em

For little folks who love to guess 'em ;

Odd scraps have I from history torn,

Strange tales from other countries borne

And many a story, true and funny,

Well worth your reading and your money.

So, all my youthful readers, come

Boys and girls, each shall have some.

"Walk up, my friends Blue Eyes and Black

And let us ope the Pedler's Pack.

There was no note or direction, which
informed us clearly what the Old Man
in the Corner intended we should do
with his book ; but we suppose that he
intended we should publish it in Merry's
Museum. This we have accordingly
concluded to do. We shall insert such
articles as seem suitable for our columns
making occasional notes of an explan-
atory nature. The first article we shall
insert, is entitled The Blues; and in
order that our readers may understand
it, we must premise that when people are

sad, or unhappy, on account of trouble-
some thoughts, they are said to have the
blues, or the blue devils. The same thing
is meant by the terms, bad spirits, the
vapors, low spirits^ &c. The Old Man
in the Corner seems to think that these
troubles may be avoided by a proper
course of life.

Here is his queer article about

'<;^~; The Blues. >,

now it rains ! Patter, patter, patter !
Well, let it pour ! I love the rum-
ble of the drops upon the roof, like
the prolonged roll of a distant drum.
Let it rain ; I am secure. I shall not go
out to-day, nor shall any one intrude
upon my privacy. This day is mine !

A wet day is often considered a lost
day. To me it is otherwise. I can shut
the door upon the world turn the key
upon life's cares, and give myself up free-
ly to the reins of a vagrant fancy, without
reproach of conscience. Providence has
stepped in, and, arresting my tasks and
my duties, gives me a sort of Sabbath
of leisure and mental recreation. To
me a wet day brings no blues, or, if it
does, they are those which come on the
wings of reverie, and are such as I am
sometimes willing to entertain. Your
reasonable blue is a communicative, sug-
gestive thing, and I always court its so-
ciety.

And, after all what are " the Blues ? "
Everything else has been classified, an-
alyzed, and reduced to scientific system;
and why not these beings which figure
so largely in the history of the human
mind? This is a subject of profound
inquiry, and I wonder it has not at-

THE BLUES.

tracted the attention of the philosophi-
cal. Let us look at it.

To get firm hold of the subject, we
must suppose a case. I sit in my room
alone. Alone, did I say? As nature
abhors a vacuum, the mind instinctively
shrinks from solitude. If fleshy forms
are not present, a host of imps press in
from crack and ere vice, to gambol around
us. The mind is like the room in which
the body is held, and these shadowy elves
issue forth from the plastering of the
walls, or peep out from the dark arras
that hangs betwixt the visible and invis-
ible world. Could we break through
the plastering, or lift the arras, and see
what these seeming imps are whether
they are things, or only images of things ;
whether they are substantial spirits,
which, like invisible eels in water, are
ever playing their pranks behind the
curtain of vision ; could we do this, our
task would easily be done ; and for our
discovery we should expect to be made
a member of some philosophical society.
But, alas ! there is no bridge that cross-
es the gulf between life and death
none, at least, upon which a being of
flesh and blood can return. It is there-
fore impossible to follow " the blues "
to their retreats to the recesses from
which, unbidden, they come, and to
which, pursued, they fly.

What, then, are " the Blues ? " In
natural history, there is nothing like
dissection. But, before dissection, we
must, have a subject. How, then, shall
we catch a blue ? that is the first ques-
tion. The easiest way is to take one by
supposition, and, while we are suppos-
ing, we may as well include the whole
race. These can be arranged as follows :

ORDER I. THE BLUES.

These have no head, no heart, no
ears, no breathing organs ; body, invisi-
ble ; food, the human heart.

CLASS I. Blues of reverie :
pleasing, but not to be too
much indulged.

CLASS II. Rum blues: pes-
tiferous.

CLASS III. Blues of indi-
gestion : horrible.

CLASS IV. Blues of bad

Order I.

The Blues.

conscience

frightful.

We might now proceed to give the
several kinds into which each class is
divided, and then the numerous species
of each kind. But this must be reserved
for some future work on the subject ; and
if we should publish such an one, let no
person laugh at our labors, nor sneer at
our philosophy. " The Blues " consti-
tute a great subject of scientific research,
and are by no means unworthy of the
moral philosopher. We have only time
to make a few observations, to show the
force of this latter remark.

In the first place, it may be noted that
those persons who live temperately, rise
early, and go to bed early; those who
fulfil their duties toward God and man ;
those who have good digestion, and a
good conscience are never visited by
any other blues than Order I., Class I.
If any others ever do come to such per-
sons, they usually depart as speedily as
a rattlesnake from an ash stick. Of
course, these people are not supposed to
be particularly interested in our subject.

But that numerous class, who are in
the habit of neglecting some daily duty,
or violating some moral or physical law

THE BLUES.

those who eat too much ; those who take
strong drinks ; those who follow plea-
sure rather than peace ; those, in short,
who keep the mind like an ill-swept
garret, decorated with dust, cobwebs and
confusion those persons are doubtless
particularly interested in our subject.
For these, the little blues of the pestife-
rous classes have a strong affinity.
Around the hearts of these persons they
are ever to be found. Upon their life-
blood these elves live.

Of all classes of blues, the Rum Blue
is, perhaps, the worst. Whether the in-
sect called " blue bottle " took its name
from it, or not, is a question for the
learned. The class is pretty numerous,
and includes a variety of genera, among
which are the following.

GENUS 1. The gin blue.

GENUS 2. The whiskey
blue. (In London call-
ed "blue ruin.")

GENUS 3. The wine blue.

GENUS 4. The toddy blue.

GENUS 5. The brandy
blue.

GENUS 6. The Santa
Croix blue.

This class of blues is particularly pes-
tiferous. There is no great difference
between them, and none but a nice ob-
server can distinguish them : they are,
however, a most destructive race. They
often assemble in crowds around the
mind, and are then called " low spirits"
or " the horrors," terms which are de-
scriptive of their character. They not
unfrequently sting the soul and body
with such agony, as to bring on what is
called the delirium tremens the most

Class II.
Rum Blues;

or,
the Horrors.

frightful of mortal maladies. Under the
agony of the rum blue, a man will some-
times murder his wife and children.
This subject is almost too frightful to
dwell upon ; but there is one source of
consolation, and that is, that no one ever
need be afflicted with the rum blue. If
a person will only abstain from alco-
holic liquors, he will never be infested
with any species of this kind of vermin.

The class of blues belonging to bad
conscience, as well as that of indigestion,
is numerous, and includes a variety of
genera. We will not now enter into a
detail of them, as our present observa-
tions are intended to be rather practical
than scientific. We may therefore close
this article with the observation, that
whoever is afflicted ivith the blues, has it
in his own power to get rid of them.

And now, gentle reader, the moral of
all this is as follows. Many people are
subject to pain of mind which they ex-
press by the terms, blue devils, the hor-
rors, low spirits, &c. &c. Now, this
pain of mind almost always proceeds
from some misconduct; from the neg-
lect of duty; from improper eating or
drinking; from wrong doing of some
kind or other. Therefore, if you would
avoid pain of mind if you would keep
away the blues adopt good habits, and
Stick to them.

CHINESE NOTION OF DANCING. When
Commodore Anson was at Canton, the
officers of the ship Centurion had a ball
upon some holiday. While they were
dancing, a Chinese, who very quietly
surveyed the operation, said softly, to
one of the party, " Why don't you let
your servants do this for you ? "

DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP.

Don't give up the Ship"

B/RING the last war with England, a
bloody battle was fought between
the British vessel of war Shannon
and the American vessel Chesa-
peake. This took place in the waters
off Boston harbor.

In a short time, the Chesapeake was
terribly cut to pieces, and many of the
men were killed and wounded. The
commander, Captain Lawrence, was
himself mortally wounded, but, while

he was dying, he exclaimed, " Don't
give up the ship ! " These striking
words have passed into a proverb, and
nothing is more common than to hear
people say, when they wish to inspire
those who are in difficulty with a new
stock of courage and energy, " don't give
up the ship ! " Now such little senten-
ces, take the whole world together, pro-
duce an immense deal of effect, for
very often a person about to despair has

DON'T GIVE UP THE SHiP.

taken new courage from saying to him-
self, or having it said to him, " don't
g'.ve up the ship ! " I am going to tell
you a story which may show an instance
of this.

Richard Dribble, familiarly called
Dick Dribble, was a poor boy, about
eleven years old, who was put out to a
farmer, to go to school, and do chores
at odd hours. I need not describe his
appearance particularly, for his portrait
is at the head of this article ; but I must
tell you that Dick was rather disposed
to be lazy and idle. He was a good-
natured fellow, but he hated exertion,
and was even too indolent to keep him-
self tidy. He therefore had always a
kind of neglected, shabby and shiftless
look.

Well, it was winter, and one day Dick
was sent of an errand. The distance
he had to go was two or three miles, and
his way led through some deep woods.
Dick had a great coat, but he was too
lazy to put it on, and, though the weather
was bitter cold, he set off without it.
He had not gone far before he began to
shiver like a pot of jelly, but still he
kept on. After a while it began to snow,
and pretty soon Dick's neck and bosom
were almost filled with it, though some
of it melted and went trickling down
his back and breast.

The boy took it very quietly for a
time ; instead of beating off the snow, he
let it rest, until at last he was almost
crusted over with it. His fingers now
began to ache, his nose tingled, his toes
grumbled, his teeth chattered, and his
whole frame shivered like an aspen leaf.
At last the poor fellow began to snivel,
and, stopping plump in the path, he

exclaimed " It 's too bad ! it 's too bad ! "
Saying this, he gathered himself all into
a kind of heap, and 'stood stock still.

How long he would have remained
here, if he had been left to himself, I
can't say ; it is probable that he would
have remained inactive till he had
become benumbed and unable to move,
and that he had then lain down and
been frozen to death. Indeed, he was
already chilled through, and his limbs
were getting stiff, and almost incapable
of motion, when a gay young fellow
came driving by in a sleigh. As he
passed, he saw Dick, and exclaimed,
" Don't give up the ship ! " He was
driving very swiftly, and was out of
sight in an instant.

Dick had sense enough left to appre-
ciate the force of the counsel thus
hastily given ; it forced him to see, that,
if he did not make an effort, he would
die ; at the same time, it put into his
bosom a feeling that he could overcome
the cold and extricate himself from his
trouble. " At any rate," said he to him-
self, " I will try ! " No sooner had he
adopted this view of the case, than he
began to march forward. He rubbed and
beat his fingers ; he knocked off the snow
from around his neck ; in short, he laid
out his whole strength, and before he
had gone half a mile, he was in a fine
glow, and though his fingers and toes
tingled a little from the hot-ache, he was
very comfortable.

So Master Dick trudged on ; he per-
formed his errand, and returned in
safety. Nor was the adventure wholly
without its use to him. He often
thought of the advice of the gay sleigh-
driver, and the effect it had upon him.

THE STORMY PETREL.

" Don't give up the ship," said he, amid
the piercing and trying circumstances
of after life ; and often that brief hut
pointed counsel enabled him to triumph
over difficulties which, perchance, had
otherwise overbalanced him.

And now, gentle reader, if you find it
hard to get your lesson, hard to perform
your task, hard to do your duty, think
of Dick Dribble in the snow-storm, and
say to yourself, " Don't give up the
ship," and go ahead !

CURE FOR THE TOOTH-ACHE. Fill
your mouth with cream, and bump your
head against a post till it turns to butter.

EITHER WAY WILL DO. " Wilt thou
have me, Sarah?" said a modest young
man to a girl whom he loved. *' No,
John," was the reply of Sarah " but
you may have me, if you will ! "

" The rolling stone gathers no moss."
Unstable people seldom prosper.

The Stormy Petrel.

MY course is o'er the sea, the sea,
Where the wind roams free,

Where the tempest flies
On a wing of might,

And the billow rolls
In a robe of white !

My course is o'er the tide, the tide,
Where the fearless ride,

Where the bloody deed
in battle is done,

And the gory wreath
Of victory won !

My course is o'er the deep, the
Where the lost ones sleep,

Down, down in the hush
Of a coral bed,

Where the mermaid sighs
O'er the lonely dead !

My course is east my course is west
Where, where shall the petrel rest ?

In the cleft of a rock,
Where the surges sweep,

And lulled by the shock,
Shall the petrel sleep.

BILL AND THE BOYS.

Bill and the Boys,

[HAVE been often requested by my
young readers to tell them something
more about Bill Keeler. I have,
therefore, been rumaging over my
memory, to see if I could pick up some-
thing about him, worth relating. Now
Bill was a great story teller, and he
with myself and several other boys, used
often to get together, and amuse one
another by relating such narratives as
we could invent or recollect. Bill was
always foremost on these occasions, and
not only told the best, but the most
stories. It is my purpose to present my
readers with such of these tales as I can
recollect. I shall not try to put them
down in the exact language in which
they were originally spoken, but I shall

give their substance and point. The
first of these tales, I shall call

THE LOTTERY TICKET.

There was once a poor, but worthy
man, whose name was Trudge. He
was a pedler, and though he dealt only
in pins, needles, thread, combs and such
little articles, he succeeded in getting a
comfortable living. Nay, more he laid
up a trifle every year, and finally he
had enough to buy him a small house.
He had a wife and two or three children,
and to this humble cottage they speedily
removed.

Trudge thought himself very happy
when he was snugly established at his
new house. He kissed Mrs. Trudge,
and all the little Trudges ; danced " hey

BILL AND THE BOYS.

Betty Martin ! " and thought himself one
of the luckiest fellows in the world.
And so he was, if he could have been
content ; but, alas ! he was beset with
certain very troublesome visiters ; they
were Ambition, Envy and Idleness. 1
must tell you all about it.

As Trudge travelled about the country
selling his wares, he noticed some fine
houses, around which he always saw
nice carriages, gay horses, and well-
dressed people, who seemed to have
nothing to do but to amuse themselves.
This made Trudge feel uneasy, and he
said to himself "Why wasn't I rich,
and why can't I live in a fine iiouse,
and be a gentleman ? Here I am only
a pedler poor Tom Trudge and it's
all trudge, trudge, from morning to
night ; winter and summer, fair or foul,
hot or cold, I must trudge, trudge ! If
I was rich, and lived in a fine house, I
should be Thomas Trudge, Esq., and
then I should be as good as anybody.
I should have easy carriages and fat,
slick horses, and Mrs. Trudge would be
a fine lady ! "

Thus it was that poor Tom indulged
his fancy, and all the time Envy and
Ambition and Idleness were at work
within, making him very unhappy.
Envy made him feel a sort of hatred
toward people who were richer than
himself. Ambition urged him to make
every effort to be rich ; and, at the same
time, Idleness told him that the greatest
comfort in life was to have nothing to
do. Thus it was that Tom, who had
a neat pretty home, and every necessary
comfort and convenience, was really
miserable, because of these uneasy and
uncomfortable thoughts

Tom at last opened his mind to his
wife, and it seems that she had been
feeling pretty much like himself. " I
don't see," said she, " why we ain't as
good as the best ; and I think it mean
of you, Mr. Trudge, not to let me have
as good a gown as Mrs. Million, up
there on the hill. Last Sunday she
came out with a bran-new yaller silk
gown, and there was I, in the next pew,
in my old caliker; and I thought to
myself, 'tan't right! And then, you
must know, when the minister said any
pleasant and comforting scriptures, he
looked very kind at Mrs. Million and
her new silk gown, and when he said
anything about the wicked, he looked at
me and my caliker. Now, Tom, I say
'tan't fair." And here Mrs. Trudge
buried her face in her apron.

Poor Trudge did all he could to com-
fort his spouse ; but, alas ! the peace of
the cottage was gone. Tom and his
wife had cast out Content and let in
Envy, and Envy is a troublesome com-
panion. He is never happy himself, and
will let nobody else be happy. Envy is
like a chestnut burr all covered with
prickles and the closer you clasp it,
the more it torments you. Yet this
was now the inmate of Trudge's cot-
tage.

Well, time went on, and things grew
worse rather than better. It is true that
Tom and his wife were thrifty people ;
they had now got to be pretty well off
in the world, but still they were by no
means as happy as they once were;
envy and ambition still goaded them on ;
they yearned to be rich ; and, strange to
say, they hated the people who were in
the station they themselves desired.

BILL AND THE BOYS.

They envied and hated Mrs. Million ;
yet they wanted very much to be like
Mrs. Million.

And who would have thought it ?
the time came when they had an opportu-
nity to gratify their desires. Tom was
one day in New York, whither he had
gone to buy his stock of pins, thread, and
needles when he chanced to pass by a
lottery office. Here, in the window,
was a picture of a gay, lightly-dressed
lady, pouring out gold and silver from a
long thing, shaped like a horn, but as
big as a corn basket. Plash went the
money upon the ground, as free as water
from the town pump. A bright thought
struck Tom: "it's of no use to plod,"
said he to himself ; " here I 've got fifty
dollars ; if I lay it out in goods, I must
go and peddle them out, and that's hard
work. Besides, what 's the use of it ?
Though I am a little richer by means of
my labors, still, compared with the Mil-
lions and the Goldboys, I shall be poor.
Now, I've a good mind to step in and
buy a ticket in the New York State
Lottery, ID* HIGHEST PRIZE FIFTY THOU-
SAND DOLLARS ! e= Q Perhaps I shall
draw it."

While these thoughts passed in his
mind, Tom entered the lottery office, and
in a kind of frenzy, bought a ticket and
paid his fifty dollars for it. He then
rolled it carefully up in his pocket and
set off for home a distance of some
forty miles. On his arrival here, he
communicated what he had done, to his
wife ; and though she secretly approved
of what he had done, she took him to
task for it roundly ; for it was dear Mrs.
Trudge's way to find fault with every-
thing her husband did. Besides, in the

present case, she wished, if the ticket
should draw a blank, and the money be
thus lost, to have it jn her power to say
to her spouse, DC?" " I told you so, Mr.
Trudge ! " thereby proving her own
sagacity and her husband's want of
sense. It is a pleasure to some wives,
to prove that they ought to have been
men, and their husbands women, and
Mrs. Thomas Trudge was one of this
amiable species. But, let us not be
misunderstood. Mrs. Trudge wished
only to degrade her husband in her own
house, so as to keep the upper hand of
him. Out of it, she always praised him
to the skies, and she passed except
with those who knew better as a most
obedient, devoted, respectful wife.

The lottery was to draw in about two
months. Torn whiled away the time as
well as he could. It is strange that
creatures who have got only a few years
to live, should still, at least half the
time, be wishing to annihilate that very
time which is so short. Yet so it is.
Tom had given up peddling, for he was
determined to be a rich man, and toil no
more ; besides, he had spent his money
in the lottery ticket, and he had no cash
to buy pins and needles with. He went
to the tavern, drank gin sling, loafed
with the idle fellows of the town, talked
politics and scandal, and thus killed the
time ; but all did not make him content.
Many times did he say to himself, " This
idleness is a great curse ; I wish I was at
work; I'd rather peddle than play;"
and yet, all the time, he was hoping and
yearning for the day when he could be
rich, and live without work.

At last the time came when the lot-
tery was to be drawn, and Tom was

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

preparing to set off for New York, to be
present at the important crisis. " Now,
Tom," said his wife, " mind ! If you
draw the highest prize, I want you to
buy me a yaller silk gown, jest like Mrs.
Million's, only a great deal smarter. And
do you buy me a red satin bonnet, like
Mrs. Goldboy's, only redder. And then
do you buy me a new fan, with a pikter
of a Wenus on one side, and a Cowpig
on the other. And then if I don't go to
meetin', and see who'll hold their heads
highest, and who'll get the comfortin'
scripters I 'm not Bridget Trudge ! "

"Well, well," said Tom, in reply,
" and suppose I don't draw the prize ? "

" Suppose you don't draw the prize ! "
said the spouse, " why then you have
thrown away your money like a fool,
and remember what I say ; if you don't
draw the prize, remember that I told you
so ; and if you do draw the .prize, get
the silk gown and the silk bonnet, and
the fan."

After a little further conversation, Tom
departed on his errand. The result will
be told in another chapter.

Pictures of Various Nations,

CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCTION.

About the different colors of the human race.

I HE globe upon which we dwell is a
small body compared with the sun, or
with Jupiter, or Saturn ; yet it con-
tains many millions of inhabitants.
The exact number can never be ascer-
tained. The best estimates make the

number between eight and nine hundred
millions. This number is too great for a
young mind to grasp. A better idea
may be formed of it, by supposing the
whole population of the globe to pass by
you, one by one. How long would it
take you to count them, at the rate of
twenty thousand a day ? More than one
hundred and twenty years.

These inhabitants are scattered over
every part of the earth, and are to be
found in almost every island of the sea.
They have penetrated into the frozen
regions, where scarcely anything grows
but moss : where fish, bears and rein-
deer are their only food; and where
they are obliged to live in cabins under
ground.

Vast as the number of the earth's
inhabitants is. and widely scattered as
they are, vet they all sprung from one
pair. This the scriptures tell us. About
six thousand years ago, God created
Adam and Eve in Asia, and from them
all mankind have descended.

Do you ask how this can be? Do
you say, that the inhabitants of different
countries and climates differ much?
They do indeed differ. They differ in
respect to laws, and government, and
manners, and dress, and language, and
color. In this last respect, color, they
differ almost more than in anything else.

Well, because they differ thus much,
you think they could not all have
descended from Adam and Eve? If
they did not, then the Bible, so far, can-
not be true. This would be a sad con-
clusion.

But, is such a conclusion necessary ?
Cannot we account for the differences
which exist among different nations,

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

upon the supposition that they all did
descend from Adam and Eve?

Take the difference in color, which
exists among different nations. This,
perhaps, is the most difficult to he
accounted for. A great variety of color
may be noticed ; but the various colors
may, perhaps, be reduced to three
white, black and red. All the others
may be supposed to be different shades
of these.

Now, were Adam and Eve white,
black or red ? This we cannot ascertain.
The late Dr. Dwight, I believe, supposed
that they were red ; but allow that they
were white ; by what process could their
descendants have become some brown,
some yellow, others red, and others still
quite black ?

Suppose that a white person in the
United States should constantly go
abroad without any covering upon his
head. What would be the consequence
of his exposure to the wind and sun?
He would " tan," as we say, or grow
dark colored ; and the longer he was
exposed the darker he would become.

Exposure, then, to the heat of the sun,
and to changes in the weather, causes a
change of complexion. Suppose this
same person visits the torrid zone. Here,
as the heat of the sun is much greater,
and the winds are more scorching, we
should naturally expect that his com-
plexion would darken faster, and, in
time, become of a deeper cast.

This is precisely as we find the fact.
All the inhabitants of the torrid zone
incline more or less to a black color.
Under the equator, where the heat is
greater than in any other part of the
world, they are quite black. In other
VOL. vii. 2

parts of the world, where the heat is less
intense, as in the temperate climates,
they are generally whke, or only brown.
Still farther north, in the frigid zones,
where the air is very dry, and the cold
very severe, the inhabitants are tawny.

Thus it appears that difference of
climate produces a great difference in
the complexion of people. But do not
nations living in the same climate, differ
in color ? They do. This is remarka-
bly exemplified in the Tartars and Chi-
nese. The latter are fairer than the
former, though they resemble the Tar-
tars in features ; but, then, they are more
polished, and adopt every means to pro-
tect themselves from the weather. On
the other hand, the Tartars, are a roving
people, without any fixed dwellings ; and
hence, are continually exposed to the sun
and air.

We might mention many other causes
of a variety of color. Perhaps few
things injure the complexion more than
want of cleanliness. This recalls to my
recollection a set of people, who were
called Yonkers, and who lived a few
miles from the city of Schenectady, in
the state of New York. When I saw
them, some years since, they consisted
of about one hundred souls. Their
ancestor's name was Johnson. He and
his wife were white persons.

Being poor and shiftless, they removed
into the woods a few miles from Sche-
nectady, where they erected a miserable
hut, without a floor, and without a chim-
ney. Some loose straw served them for
a bed ; and in dirt and in filth they lived.
They had several children, who followed
their examples. Other huts were erected
they intermarried, and in smoke, and

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

in grease, and in filth, they and their
descendants have lived. In the hottest
season of the * year the children are
accustomed to roll in the dirt with the
pigs around the door ; and in the winter
season they play with the ashes and
live in the smoke. They seldom, if
ever, wash ; and it is doubtful whether a
child's hair is combed half a dozen times,
till it is grown up. When I visited
them, which was for the purpose of dis-
tributing bibles among them, it was
stated that only five of the whole clan
were able to read.

The consequence of this filthy mode
of living maybe easily guessed. They
appeared like a different race of beings.
Their features were greatly changed;
but much more their complexion. In
this latter respect they were nearly as
dark as the North American Indians.
From this story my readers may learn
something of the influence which man-
ner of living exerts, not only on com-
plexion, but even upon features.

From the foregoing facts it is easy to
perceive how white people may, in pro-
cess of time, become dark-colored, and
even black. Hence, admitting that
Adam and Eve were created white,
their descendants might, through the
influence of climate and other causes,
become red and even black.

But, you say, perhaps they were not
white perhaps they were red, perhaps
black. Yes, they might have been red,
or they might have been black. Well,
if they were either of these, you ask
how any of their descendants became
while.

This is a nice question. But, per-
haps, something may in truth be said by

way of a satisfactory answer. We have
seen how a white man might become
very dark-colored, and how his descend-
ants might become, in process of time,
even black, by removing to the torrid
zone, and there continuing to dwell for
several hundred years.

Now, might not the very reverse of
this prove true? Do not the blacks
from Africa grow lighter colored, when
brought to the northern parts of the
United States ? Listen to what Presi-
dent Dwight says on this subject :

" The change of the blacks," says he,
" whose ancestors were introduced into
New England, is already very great, as
to their shape, features, hair and com-
plexion. Within the last thirty years, I
have not seen a single person, of Afri-
can descent, who was not many shades
whiter than the blacks formerly imported
directly from Guinea."

Now, it is possible that the black
people in the United States might
become white, in process of time. I do
not say that they ever will, because their
manner of living is far different from that
of the whites. They are not as cleanly ;
most of them are much exposed to the
weather. And this is true of the Indi-
ans, or " red men."

But, you ask, can any instances be
produced of either " red men " or black
men becoming white? I answer, yes,
instances of both. I will give an account
of an instance of each kind ; and I can
assure my readers that the account is
true, and they may find it in an enlarged
form, in Dr. Dwight's travels. And first,
I shall tell them the story of the Indian,
or "red man."

Or, rather I might say, that my story

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

relates to four Indians. They belonged
to the tribe called Brothertown Indians,
who lived at a place called Brothertown,
in the state of New York. It was in
the year 1791, that Mr. Hart, formerly
minister at Stonington, in Connecticut,
saw four Indians, whose skin, in different
parts of their body, was turning white.

One, whose name was Samuel Adams,
had become almost entirely white. This
Indian told Mr. Hart, that his skin had
been gradually changing its color for
fourteen years. He was a very healthy
man ; nor was he sensible of any pain
or disease which occasioned the change.
" His skin appeared perfectly smooth
and fresh, and delicately white." His
hair, also, had become in part gray, like
that of aged white people.

The instance of a black man, who
became white, is also related by Dr.
Dwight, who himself saw the man, and
examined him. His name was Henry
Moss. He was a native of Virginia.
He came to New Haven in the year
1796, where Dr. Dwight saw him. He
was originally black, and woolly headed,
like other negroes ; but, at this time, he
was almost entirely white, and of a
" clear, fresh, and delicate complexion."
His hair, also, was in part changed, and
was exactly that of fair white people ;
of a flaxen hue, and perfectly free from
curling.

From these examples my readers may
learn that no one color is essential to the
nature of the body ; and that, as white
men have become black, and red and
black men white, all mankind, how dif-
ferent soever they may now appear, may
have descended from Adam and Eve,

whatever their complexion might have
been.

I might say much more in relation to
the differences which exist among dif-
ferent nations ; and might, perhaps,
explain how they came to differ so
greatly in respect to language, and dress,
and laws, and government, and other
things ; but I must not be tedious.

It would be pleasant, no doubt, to my
readers, could they travel in safety
round the world, and visit the different
nations and tribes of men, and mark the
differences which exist, for themselves.
This pleasure some have enjoyed to a
certain extent ; and many are the ves-
sels which yearly sail from the United
States to various parts of the globe.

A few men have visited almost every
country on the globe ; but it would take
a long life to become even superficially
acquainted with the different tribes of
men, had one the means which would
be necessary. But it is not essential
to travel much, to become tolerably
acquainted with the people of different
countries. Different men have travelled
the world over, and have given faithful
accounts of the people whom they saw
It is desirable to know what has been
thus related. Many of my readers, I
suppose, cannot obtain the books which
have been written on this subject. I
shall, therefore, proceed to tell them
something about it.

[To be continued.]

FRESH WATER. The basin of the St.
Lawrence, including the great lakes, con-
tains, in mass, more than half the fresh
water on the globe.

LIGHT.

Candle-flies.

EFORE the creation of light, the world
must have been involved in dark-
ness. A state of darkness is the
natural condition of the universe
without light. We are very apt to think
of everything as a matter of course, and
we are not apt to reflect that everything
has been made, created by God. Now,
let us bear in mind the fact, that dark-
ness was the original state of the uni-
verse ; then let us reflect upon the stu-
pendous, beautiful and benignant crea-
tion of light. How wonderful must
have been the first rising of the sun

upon this world of ours, before involved
in the shades of midnight ! How won-
derful must have been the first appear-
ance of the thousand stars in the sky
and how wonderful that of the pale, but
lovely moon, hung like a bow in the
heavens, or bursting in its full splendor
upon our world below.

And let us consider a moment what a
wonderful element light is. We do not
understand all its properties, but we
know that it proceeds in a straight direc-
tion from its source. Now the sun pro-
duces light, and it comes to us with an

LIGHT.

inconceivable velocity. The distance of
the sun is ninety-five millions of miles
from us yet the rays of light reach us
in seven minutes and a half; thus show-
ing that the rays fly at the rate of two
hundred thousand miles in a second !

Let us consider, for one instant, what
a stupendous work it was to make and
sustain the sun, which is every instant
pouring off a flood of light on all sides,
reaching ninety-five millions of miles,
and flowing constantly at the rate of
two hundred thousand miles a second ;
and consider, also, that this process has
been in operation for at least six thou-
sand years ! This is indeed enough to
overwhelm us with wonder and admira-
tion ; and yet we are only considering one
source of light the sun while every
fixed star in the firmament is another, and
presents the same topic of admiration.

We might now pass from this view of
the subject, to the uses of light and re-
mark upon the fact, that by means of it
we see things. Color and form all
that constitutes the beauty of the world
of vision is revealed to us by light.
The production of light its manufac-
ture and supply is a stupendous thing
--but yet its conception, its invention,
was still more wonderful. There was a
time when all was darkness. It was
then that God said, " Let there be light,
and there was light ! " But he had an
object in producing light. He intended
that his creatures should see by it.
How great, then, were his wisdom and
goodness in designing it how wonder-
ful his power in producing it !

I intend, hereafter, to say something
more about the philosophy of light ; but
my intention, at present, is to speak only

of some curious particulars in relation to
it. In the first place, let me tell you
that there are some plants which throw
out light. A gentleman observed, in the
shady recesses of some of the rocks of
Derbyshire, England, a brilliant gold and
green light, which appeared to proceed
from a fine net-work of moss, growing
upon the rocks. In the coal mines near
Dresden, in Germany, there are certain
mosses, which are said to be abundant
and luminous. They are described by
a visitor as appearing in " wonderful
beauty," and he says, " The impressioi
produced by the spectacle, I can never
forget. The abundance of these plant?
was so great, that the roof, and the
walls, and the pillars, were entirely cov-
ered with them. The beautiful light they
cast around, was almost dazzling ; it re-
sembled faint moonshine, so that two
persons, near each other, could readily
distinguish their bodies."

The phosphorescence of the sea pre-
sents a most remarkable spectacle.
Sometimes the vessel, while ploughing
her way through the billows, appears to
mark out a furrow of fire. Each stroke
of an oar gives rise to sparks of light,
sometimes tranquil and pearly, at others
brilliant and dazzling. These movable
lights, too, are grouped in endless varie-
ties ; their thousand luminous points,
like little stars, appearing to float on the
surface ; and their matter forming one
vast sheet of light. At such times, the
bright waves heave, roll, and break in
shining foam ; or large sparkling bodies,
resembling the forms of fishes, pursue
each other, disappearing and bursting
forth anew.

Beautiful illuminations of the same

LIGHT.

kind are frequently seen at a great depth
in the clear water, which in the night time
becomes jet black. Often, through this
dark, yet limpid medium, have voyagers
amused themselves, by tracking the
routes of large fishes, such as porpoises
or sharks, gleaming along in lines of
light beneath the abyss, itself invisible
with gloom.

As Captain Tuckey passed in his
voyage towards Prince's Island, the ship
seemed to be sailing on a sea of milk,
lu order to discover the cause of such an

appearance, a bag, having its mouth dis-
tended by a hoop, was kept overboard,
and, by means of it, vast numbers of
small animals were collected. Among
them, were a great many small sea ani-
mals, with innumerable little creatures
attached to them, to which Captain Tuc-
key principally attributed the whitish
color of the water.

Thirteen species of cancer were ob-
served, not above one fourth of an inch
long; eight having the shape of crabs,
and five that of shrimps. Among these.

Luminous marine animals, magnified.

some luminous creatures were discerni-

ble. When one species was examined luminous property was observed to re

by the microscope, in candle-light, the

LIGHT.

side in the brain, which, when the ani-
mal was at rest, resembled a most bril-
liant amethyst, about the size of a large
pin's head ; and from this there darted,
when the animal moved, flashes of a
brilliant and silvery light.

Of the number of these little crea-
tures, of some of which a magnified rep-
resentation is here annexed, some inter-
esting statements are furnished by Cap-
tain Scoresby. " During a run of fifty
leagues," he says, " the sea was con-
stantly of an olive-green color, remarka-
bly tinted ; but, on the afternoon of the
17th of April, it changed to transparent
blue. This green appearance of the sea
in these latitudes, was occasioned by
myriads of small marine animals. A
calculation of the number of these ani-
mals, in the space of two miles square,
and two hundred and fifty fathoms deep,
gave an amount of 23,888,000,000,000 !

" On September 1st, the sea was col-
ored, in veins or patches, of a brown
color, or sometimes with a yellowish
green ; and this water, on being ex-
amined by the microscope, appeared
swarming with minute marine animals.
A drop of this water contained twenty-
six thousand five hundred animalcules.
Hence, reckoning sixty drops to a
drachm, there would be a number in a
gallon of water exceeding by one half
the amount of the whole population of
the globe. It affords an interesting con-
ception of the minuteness of some tribes
of animals, when we think of more than
twenty-six thousand individuals, living,
obtaining subsistence, and moving per-
fectly at their ease, in a single drop of
water ! "

A sea is required for a whale to spout

in ; but a common tumbler affords abun-
dant space for a hundred and fifty mil-
lions of these little creatures ! The
phosphorescent appearances presented
by them are not, however, without an
important design. It is probable that
God, whose knowledge is unbounded,
foreseeing that man would learn to trav-
erse the mighty deep, and explore the
most distant regions of the globe, has
given this brightness to the ocean to
lessen his dangers, and to render his
nights less gloomy.

Especially will this seem likely, when
it is remembered that it is seen only in
the night season, and is vivid in propor-
tion to the darkness. It disappears even
before the feeble light of the rnoon, and
increases with the agitation of the sea ;
so that, during the prevalence of a
storm, it generally diminishes the dense
gloom, which at such times even the
moon and stars cannot penetrate. It
casts such a light on the ship and rig-
ging, that the sailors may execute their
allotted tasks with certainty, and at all
times it points out to the cautious mar-
iner the lurking danger of sunken rocks,
shoals and unknown coasts.

It is well known that sea animals,
larger than those minute creatures of
which we have been speaking, have also
the power of emitting light. Pliny tells
us, that some of the old Romans, in his
time, used to sup in darkened apart-
ments upon the pholas, a kind of shell-
fish, which gave out sparks of light, and
amused the people, while they gratified
their appetites. A traveller in a remote
land, speaks of fishes that played around
the boats, each being encircled by a halo
of light.

HERONS AND ROOKS.

But the land has its luminous animals,
as well as the sea. The glow-worm is
common in Europe : this is a female bee-
tle, without wings. It emits a light of a
sulphur color, so strong that if placed at
night on a page of small print, it may be
easily read. In Africa there is an insect
that emits light from two globes, like
lamps, upon its horns.

The fire-fly of South America is very
common, and its light is so brilliant as
that several put together will enable a
person to see to write. The fire-fly of
our country, which seems to make the
landscape at night sparkle as with a
thousand gems, is smaller than that of
South America.

In the East Indies, thousands of lan-
tern-flies, sending forth a beautiful illu-
mination, are seen dancing at night amid
the banyan trees; and candle-flies, of
which we give a cut at the head of this
article, have a similar power.

These are a few of the facts connect-
ed with the luminous qualities of plants
and animals. We do not fully under-
stand the uses of these powers, but we
can see that the subject of light is very
extensive, and that the study of it leads
to a great many curious and wonderful
realities.

Herons and Rooks,

IT Dallam Tower, in Westmoreland,
England, there were, some years
ago, two groves adjoining the park,
one of which, for many years, had
been resorted to by a number of her-
ons; the other was one of the largest
rookeries in the country. The two

tribes lived together for a long time
without any disputes. At length, the
trees occupied by the herons, consisting
of some very fine old oaks, were cut
down in the spring of 1775, and the
young birds had perished by the fall of
the timber. The parent birds immedi-
ately set about preparing new habita-
tions to breed again ; but as the trees in
the neighborhood of their old nests were
only of a late growth, and not high
enough to secure them from the depre-
dations of the boys, they determined to
effect a settlement in the rookery. The
rooks made an obstinate resistance, but,
after a very violent contest, in the course
of which some on both sides lost their
lives, the herons at last succeeded in
their attempt built their nests, and
brought up their young.

The next season, the same contests
took place, which terminated, like the
former, by the victory of the herons.
From that time, peace seemed to have
been agreed upon between them; the
rooks relinquished possession of that
part of the grove which the herons oc-
cupied ; the herons confined themselves
to those trees they first seized upon,
and the two species lived together in as
much harmony as they did before their
quarrel.

WHEN Mr. West, grandson of Sir
Benjamin, was in this country, exhibit-
ing the great picture of " Christ reject-
ed," he employed a man to hang it up in
the exhibition-room. Accordingly, the
latter brought in a bill " for hanging
Christ rejected by your grandfather "

SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS.

Dr. Vince seeing the images of a ship in the air.

Spectral Illusions,

THE atmosphere has the power of bend-
ing the rays of light, so that we see
the sun before it actually rises above
the horizon, and after it has actually
sunk below it.

This bending of the rays, produces
some curious appearances, and which
were formerly viewed with superstition.
Dr. Vince, an English philosopher, was
once looking through, a telescope at a
ship, which was so far off, that he could
only see the upper parts of the masts.
The hulk was entirely hidden by the

bending of the water, but between him-
self and the ship, he saw two perfect im-
ages of it in the air. These were of the
same form and color as the real ship;
but one of them was turned upside
down.

When Captain Scoresby was in the
Polar Sea with his ship, he was separa-
ted by the ice from that of his father for
some time, and looked out for her every
day with great anxiety. At length, one
evening, to his utter astonishment, he saw
her suspended in the air, in an inverted

BATS.

position, traced on the horizon in the
clearest colors, and with the most dis-
tinct and perfect representation. He
sailed in the direction in which he saw
this visionary phenomenon, and actually
found his father's vessel by its indica-
tion. He was separated from the ship
by immense masses of icebergs, and at
such a distance that it was impossible to
have seen her in her actual situation, or
to have seen her at all, if her spectrum

had not been thus raised several degrees
above the horizon in the air by this most
extraordinary refraction.

It is by this bending of the rays of
light that the images of people are often
seen at a distance, and sometimes mag-
nified to a gigantic size. We have
given an account of such an appearance
in the Hartz mountains, in Germany, in
the Museum, Vol. i. p. 79.

BATS are of various sizes and many
kinds. In this country there are
various species, but none of them
very large. They are generally
innocent creatures, living in dark cav-
erns and hidden places during the day,
and sallying forth to feast upon insects
by night. The little bats that we see

flying about of a summer evening, are
very amusing creatures in one respect ;
if you throw anything up near them,
they will dive at it immediately, no
doubt supposing it to be something to
eat. A boy may throw up his cap, and
the bat flies at it instantly, as if he
would make a supper of it.

BATS.

But in other parts of the world, espe-
cially in hot countries, some of the bats
are very large. The rousette bat is
found in the great island of Madagascar,
near the southeast shore of Africa. Its
wings are sometimes two feet from tip
to tip. But the most frightful kind of
bat is the vampire, which is found in
Guiana, on the northeast coast of South
America. The length of its body is
about six inches, and the extent of its
outstretched wings two feet.

This creature sucks the blood from
men and cattle, while they are fast
asleep, even sometimes till they die ;
and as the manner in which they pro-
ceed is truly wonderful, I shall endeavor
to give a distinct account of it. Know-
ing by instinct that the person they in-
tend to attack is in a sound slumber,
they generally alight near the feet,
and, while the creature continues fan-
ning with his enormous wings, which
keeps one cool, he bites a piece out of
the tip of the great toe, so very small
indeed, that the head of a pin could
scarcely be received into the wound,
which is consequently not painful, yet,
through this orifice, he sucks a great
quantity of blood. Cattle they gene-
rally bite in the ear, but always in
places where the blood flows spontane-
ously.

" Some years ago," says Mr. Water-
ton, in his Wanderings in South Amer-
ica, ' : I went to the river Panmaron with
a Scotch gentleman, by the name of
Turbet. We hung our hammocks in
the thatched loft of a planter's house.
Next morning, I heard this gentleman
muttering in his hammock, and now and
then letting fall an exclamation or two.

What is the matter, sir ? ' said I ; * is
there anything amiss?' 'What's the
matter ? ' said he, surlily, * why, the
vampires have been sucking me to
death.' As soon as there was light
enough, I went to his hammock, and
saw it much stained with blood. ' There,'
said he, thrusting his foot out of the
hammock, * see how these imps have
been drawing my life's blood.'

" On examining his foot, I found that
the vampire had tapped his great toe.
There was a wound somewhat less than
that made by a leech. The blood was
still oozing from it. I conjectured that
he might have lost from ten to twelve
ounces of blood. While examining it, I
think I put him into a worse humor, by
remarking that an European surgeon
would not have been so generous as to
have bled him without making a charge.
He looked up in my face, but did not
say a word. I saw he was of the opin-
ion that I had better have spared this
ill-timed piece of levity."

YANKEE WIT. A " notion seller " was
offering Yankee clocks, finely varnished
and colored, with a looking-glass in
front, to a lady not remarkable for per-
sonal beauty. " Why, it 's beautiful ! "
said the vender. " Beautiful, indeed !
why, a look at it almost frightens me ! "
said the lady. ' " Then, marm," replied
Jonathan, " I guess you'd better buy one
that ha'n't got no looking-glass."

A MUSICIAN, in giving notice of an in-
tended concert at Cleveland, Ohio, says :
" A variety of other songs may be ex-
pected, too tedious to mention."

KIN SHAN; OR, THE GOLDEN ISLE.

Kin Shan; or, the Golden Isle,

THERE is no country more full of won-
ders than China, yet we know com-
paratively little of it. We know, in-
deed, something about Canton, near
which foreign merchants are permitted to
reside ; about Nankin, which is famous
for its beautiful pagoda ; and about Pe-
kin, which is a city almost as populous as
London, and where the emperor resides.
We know, also, that there are many other
large cities in China ; we know that the
empire is the most populous in the
world, containing three hundred and
forty millions of people.

We know, too, that the Chinese pro-
duce tea, and silks, and porcelain, and
many other curious manufactures ; that
they worship idols, and sometimes eat
worms, birds' nests, rats and puppies ;
but still, it has been the system of the
government to exclude foreigners from
the country, and accordingly few travel-
lers have penetrated into its interior, and
given us an account of what is there to
be seen. It is probable that we shall
soon know more about China, for the
British have sent soldiers and ships out
there, who have made the emperor
agree to be more sociable, and let for-
eigners come into his domains a little
more. Our government has sent out
Mr. Caleb Gushing, of Newburyport, in
Massachusetts, to see the emperor, and
make arrangements for a free trade be-
tween the people of China and the
Americans. Mr. Gushing is a very
learned man, and it is pretty likely he
and the emperor will come to a good
understanding. You must know that
the emperor is fond of fine dress, and

expects everybody who comes to see
him, to make a dashing appearance.
Accordingly, Mr. Gushing has carried
out a gay military dress, in which he is
to present himself to the emperor. The
old man is named Taou-Kwang, and is
over seventy years of age. I should
like to see the meeting between him
and Mr. Gushing should n't you ?

When Mr. Gushing comes back, he
will write a book, and tell us all about
China. In the mean time, we shall say
something about a very beautiful place,
called the Kin Shan, or the Golden Island.
This is not far from the city of Nankin,
and near the nourishing city of Qua-
tchou. It is situated in the river Yang-
tse-Kiang, and is famous all over China,
for its beauty. It is about three hun-
, dred feet high, and fifteen hundred in
circuit. It is rocky and precipitous, but
i it is shaded with the loveliest trees. It
! is also decorated with temples, devoted
I to Confucius, Lockien and Fo the di-
vinities of Chinese superstition. Here,
j also, is a palace, erected by the emperor
Kienlong the grandfather of Taou-
Kwang. In this he used to spend a great
deal of time, to get away from the cares
of governing such an empire, and to con-
sider how happy he should be, if he was
only a private individual, and not an
emperor !

The river, from the top of the Golden
Island, is exceedingly beautiful ; and
when Mr. Gushing comes back, we must
get him to tell us all about it. Mr.
Fletcher Webster has gone with Mr.
Gushing, and, as he is a very pleasant,
sociable gentleman, I think he will bring

OUR CORRESPONDENCE.

us some pretty good stories, too. Per-
haps he and Mr. Gushing will dine with
the emperor, who does n't use knives and
forks, but takes up his food with two
sticks, put between the thumb and fin-
gers of the right hand. These are called
chop-sticks. I hope Mr. Gushing and
Mr. Webster will practise the chop-sticks
before they dine with the emperor ; for
if they do not, I am afraid they will get

a poor dinner, and make the emperor
think that the Yankees are rather awk-
ward ! If, indeed, the dinner should con-
sist of salted angle-worms, bird-nest
soup, Japan leather, balls made of
sharks' fins, and figured pigeons' eggs
all of which are esteemed great delica-
cies in China perhaps the less they can
take up with the chop-sticks, the better
they will like it.

Our Correspondence,

A SUBSCRIBER sends us the following pretty
solution of the enigma in the November num-
ber of the Museum :

When walking by the water's edge,
We often find the modest sedge ;
The lamp that guides our weary feet,
Without a wick, is incomplete :
But these, united, form the name"
Of Sedgrvick, worthy of her fame.

Several of our little friends have also sent
us a correct solution of the same.

The following will speak for itself :

MR. ROBERT MERRY,

I like your riddles and charades very much.
My mother says it sharpens the mind to guess
them. So, I guess that the answer to the first
riddle, in the November number of the Mu-
seum, is the letter R, and that the answer to
the second is the letter A. He says that he
" is also with a party of five." Does this mean
that he is one of the five vowels ?

I think your Twenty Geographical Questions
were very interesting, but I did not know
enough of geography to answer them.
I am your true friend,

JOHN L N.

The following letter is interesting in itself,
and it derives additional value from the fact
that it has travelled about a thousand miles to

find us. It was accompanied by correct an-
swers to our Twenty Geographical Questions ;
thus showing that our little friends in Illinois
know as much as our Yankee girls and boys.
We shall be happy to be made acquainted with
more of them.

MR. MERRY :

In this month's Museum, we find an invita-
tion to answer twenty questions which you
have proposed, and our indulgent father has
consented to pay the postage if we will find
correct answers and send to you. But how
can you expect children, who live on Rock
River, Illinois, to know a great deal ? So, Mr.
Merry, if the answers are not all correct, you
must not laugh at us, but please to tell us, in
the next Museum, what the right answers are ;
and, when it is convenient, will you tell us a
little something about the two New Holland
animals ?

We have been threatening you with a letter
for a month past ; for you must know that, the
23d of October, the numbers for September
and October arrived, and we verily thought
you had forgotten us, and we should never see
the Museum again. Now, Mr. Merry, you
know we cannot get as many books to read as
the children who live east, so we depend upon
the Museum, for both pleasure and profit, more
than many of your black-eyed and blue-eyed
readers ; so, if you please, we would like the
Museum every month, certainly by the tenth of
the month.

We like the story of Inquisitive Jack very
much, and hope he will not forget, very soon,

OUR CORRESPONDENCE.

how to ask questions ; we also are very much
interested in Jumping Rabbit's story.

Blue-eyed EDWARD E. P .

Black-eyed S. ADALINE P .

Nov. 1st, 1843.

HOLLISTON, Nov. 23.
MR. MERRY :

I take this opportunity to write a few lines.
I have taken your Museum for the year, and
I like it very much. I think if you put in
a piece of music it would be much more inter-
esting. I have always taken an interest in
your Puzzles ; and, as you have had none in
your last numbers, I thought I would make
one, and if you think it deserves insertion, you
can insert it.

I am composed of fourteen letters.

My 1, 6, 10, 5, 2, 7, is a town in Massachusetts.

My 11, 5, 9, 4, is a place in Boston.

Bly 5, 9, 7, is a metal.

My 3, 6, 12, 13, 14, 4, is a city in Europe.

My 6, 10, 5, is an insect.

My 4, 6, 1, 11, is a river in New England.

My 12, 9, 7, 14, is a kind of wood.

My 2, 7, 9, 11, 10, is a vegetable.

My 10, 6, 9, 13, is a very useful article.

My 6, 1, 8, 11, 3, is a town in Massachusetts.

My 14, 5, 10, 6, is a burning mountain.

My 13, 14, 6, 4, 8, is an adjective.

My 14, 6, 4, 8, is a point of the compass.

My 9, 13, 13, 9, 3, 11, 9, 4, is one of the States.

My whole is a city on the eastern continent.

From a black-eyed friend.
H. P .

The following letter from Washington is
very acceptable, and we hope our little friend
will continue his interesting correspondence :

MR. MERRY :

I have come on to Washington with my
father, to spend the winter here, and I thought
I would write, and tell you something about
Washington. It is a pretty large place, but it
is scattered about, and looks like a great city
broken into a great many pieces. The capitol
is situated on the brow of a hill, and is a very
fine building, of white freestone. It is the
handsomest building I ever saw. The grounds
around it are so neat, and have such fine
walks! And then there are so many pretty
trees scattered about in groups! And then
there are beautiful fountains, out of which the
water is spouting as bright as flowing silver !

The capitol is twice as large as the Boston

state-house, and has a vast number of rooms,
and passages, and staircases I got quite lost
and bewildered in it several times, but I can
find my way pretty well now. There is a
large circular room in the middle of the build-
ing, called the Rotunda. It is lighted at the
top, by the dome or cupola.

Around the sides of the rotunda are several
carvings and pictures. One of the latter rep-
resents the marriage of Pocahontas to Rolfe,
the Englishman. It is a very large picture
indeed, the figures being as large as life. It is
very interesting.

The House of Representatives and the Sen-
ate, being called Congress, meet in two differ-
ent rooms in the capitol. The United States
Court also meet every winter in a room in the
capitol.

I have only been to the House of Repre-
sentatives yet. The room is a half circle,
very lofty, and supported by beautiful pillars
of many-colored marble. There are about
two hundred and thirty members ; and what
strikes me as very odd is, that they sit with
their hats on. If they were boys, they would
have to take their hats off ; for boys are ex-
pected to observe good manners, but men and
members of Congress, I suppose, may do as
they please.

The Speaker is Mr. Jones, of Virginia ; a
man of dark complexion, and plain appear-
ance. He is also a little lame. Yet he seems
to be a mild and good man. But there is one
thing that he ought to pay attention to. He
being chairman, the members must address
their speeches to him. When they begin, they
say Mr. Chairman ; and sometimes they speak
of addressing the chair. Now, what I notice
as wrong is this, that many of the members
say cheer and cheerman ! Would you believe,
Mr. Merry, that such things would be tolerated
in the Congress of the United States ? Why,
any school-boy would get a striped jacket for
talking through his nose, and murdering the
English tongue in this fashion ; but I suppose
members of Congress may do as they please.

I had the pleasure of hearing Mr. Adams,
of Massachusetts, make a speech. He is very
old, and his hand trembles, and his voice
breaks. I was sorry to see that he got very
angry very angry indeed. It seems to me
that such an old man should not get angry ;
but perhaps I am wrong, for I am only a boy.
I should have loved him, if he had been mild,
and calm, and dignified.

I must now close my letter : perhaps I shall
write you again. Good bye.

Yours, truly,

JAMES NORTON.

The Two Leaves,

MUSIC COMPOSED BY GEO. J. WEBB.

Allegretto.

Upon a bough a yellow leaf, Seemed sad and sighing, full of grief ; While bright be-

old leaf whisper'd light, Unto its neighbor fair and bright " Why giddy leaf art thou so

-9- * -0-

-000-0^9- -0-0-0-0-0

' tH

gay, While I, thy sis - ter, fade a - way ? While I, thy sister, fade away ?

I I

Look down, and mark the valley deep,
Where we must soon in shadow sleep ;
And is it meet so frail a thing,
A trembling leaf, should dance and sing ?

The green leaf, answering, softly sung,
" Sweet sister, once thyself was young,
And thy fond bosom danced with bliss,
E'en though the zephyr stole a kiss !

" I sing a soft and cheerful lay,
Perchance, because my heart is gay ;
Perchance to please a floweret, born
Beside me on my own birth-moru.

" So pray forgive, my sister sere,
[f more I court the smile than tear ;
And when I 'm yellow, withered, pale,
1 11 sigh, and sink in yonder vale."

MERRY'S MUSEUM,

Vol. VII.

FEBRUARY, 1844.

No. 2.

EBRUARY is upon us ; a severe,
unrelenting month, in which
winter seems to reign, in these
northern regions, with resist-
less sway. Far to the south,
is in Georgia and Louisiana, the birds
have chosen their mates and are build-
ing their nests ; the peas in the gardens
are in blossom ; the strawberries are be-
ginning to form, and the lilacs and roses
are in bloom. But here, alas, the rivers
are in icy fetters the earth is wrapt in
snow and not a symptom of starting
vegetation is seen over the whole face of
nature.

It may seem strange that February
should be the coldest month in the year
yet so it is. In December we have
the shortest days ; then the nights are
longest, and the sun bestows upon us
VOL. vii. 3

the least warmth ; why, then, should not
December be the coldest month ? The
reason is this. In February, the heat
has gone from the earth ; the frost, ice
and snow have accumulated ; and these
exercise an influence which the heat of
the sun cannot yet overcome. If the sun
remained as it is during the winter
months, all vegetation would finally
cease in our climate, and the whole
country would remain buried in snow
and ice.

In England, February has nearly the
same character 'as our March, and it is
regarded as the opening of spring.
There the birds pair in February, and
the blackbird, thrush and chaffinch fill
the woods with their songs. The ra-
vens begin to build their nests, the moles
in the ground throw up their little hil-

THE THREE SOVEREIGNS.

locks, and some intrepid plants put
forth their blossoms. The snow-drops,
"fair maids of February," as they are
there called, often peep out, even though
it bo amidst the snow the alder-tree
discloses the flower-buds and the cat-
kins of the hazel become conspicuous in
the hedges. This is the picture of
things in old England. What a differ-
ent picture is before us in New Eng-
land!

The Three Sovereigns,

I HE following anecdote was often told
by the late emperor Alexander, and
is amongst the traditions of the Rus-
sian court :

In 1814, during the period that the al-
lies were masters of Paris, the Czar, who
resided in the hotel of M. de Talleyrand,
was in the daily habit of taking a walk,
(in strict incognito,} every morning, in
the garden of the Tuilleries, and thence
to the Palais Royale. He one day met
two other sovereigns, and the three were
returning arm-in-arm to breakfast in the
Rue St. Florentin, when, on their way
thither, they encountered a provincial,
evidently freshly imported to Paris, and
who had lost his way.

" Gentlemen," said he, " can you tell
me which is the Tuillerjes ? "

"Yes," replied Alexander; "follow
us ; we are going that way, and will
show you."

Thanks on the part of the countryman
led them soon into conversation. A few
minutes sufficed to arrive at the palace ;
and as here their routes lay in opposite

directions, they bade each other recipro-
cally adieu.

" Parbleu ! " cried the provincial, " I
should be glad to know the names of
persons so amiable and complaisant as
you are."

"My name?" said the first "Oh,
certainly ; you have, perhaps, heard of
me ; I am the emperor Alexander."

" A capital joke," exclaimed the Gas-
con " An emperor ! And you ? " ad-
| dressing the second individual, " Who
may you be ? "

" I? " replied he ; " why, probably, I
am not wholly unknown to you, at least
by name ; I am the king of Prussia ! "

" Better and better," said the man.
" And you, what are you, then ? " look-
ing at the third person.

" I am the emperor of Austria ! "

" Perfect, perfect ! " exclaimed the pro*
vincial, laughing with all his might.

" But you, monsieur," said the empe-
ror Alexander, " surely you will also let
us know whom we have the honor to
speak to ? "

" To be sure," replied the man, quit-
ting them with an important strut, "I
am the Great Mogul."

WRITTEN ON A BOY'S MARBLE.

The world 's something bigger,
But just of this figure,

And speckled with mountains and seas ,
Your heroes are overgrown schoolboys,
Who scuffle for empires and toys.

And kick the poor ball as they please.

Now Caesar, now Pompey, gives law ;
And Pharsalia's plain,
Though heaped with the slain,

W T as only a game at taw.

Mrs. Barbauld

INQUISITIVE JACK.

Inquisitive Jack,

CHAPTER I.

About the Wren and his family.

E have given
some account
of this curi-
ous, inquir-
ing, investi-
gating little
hero, in a
former vol-
ume of our
Museum. But there is a good deal to
tell about him yet ; and, as I have many
letters from rny little readers, expressing
their interest in Jack, I propose to go on
and continue his story. I think every-
body will be pleased to hear how he
became acquainted with the natural his-
tory of birds.

One day Jack was down at the bottom
of the garden, when he became interested
in some insects which he saw on the
leaves of a hop vine, which was climb-
ing up a trellis close by. In order to
examine the insects more closely, Jack
took off his cap and carelessly hung it
on the top of one of the stakes which
supported the trellis.

After examining the insects for a
while, Jack became so interested in the
subject that he picked off some leaves of
the hop vine, covered with the little
creatures, and carried them to his aunt
Piper, to ask her about them. He forgot
his cap, which was left on the stake ;
nor could Jack recollect, when he
wanted it, where he had left it. He was

obliged to wear his best hat for nearly a
week, when, by chance, he discovered
his cap on the stake. He then recol-
lected all about it, and ran to the trellis
to take it down. But what was his sur-
prise to find it tenanted by a fierce little
wren, who flew out of the cap and then
darted at Jack, snapping at him sharply
with his tiny beak.

Jack was almost frightened at the
fierceness of the little bird, but after
a while he reached up his hand and
took down the cap. You may well be-
lieve that he was greatly amused to find
that the little wren, with its compan-
ion, had begun to build a nest in it.
They had already packed it more than
half full of sticks, straws, and dried
grass.

At first, Jack was sorry that he had
robbed the little birds of their home ;
but after a while, he got a little box
and made a hole large enough for the
wrens to go in and out, and set it upon

INQUISITIVE JACK.

the stake where the cap had been. For
two or three days the wrens were very
shy, and would not go near the box. But
at last, one of them flew to the trellis and
peered all about to see if there was no
danger near. In a little while, be hitched
along towards the box, making a queer
noise all the time. By and by, he ven-
tured to alight upon the box, and finally
he popped his head into the hole. Then
he looked all around again very cau-
tiously, and at last in he went. Pretty
soon he came out again, and stationed
himself upon the top of the box, and
began to sing with all his might. If
you will excuse me, I will try to put his
song into words :

Hi diddle ho diddle,
Pop diddle dee,
Here 's the prettiest house
You ever did see.

Come hither, come hither,
My own pretty friend,
Here 's a home for us both,
Come, come, little wren !

Here 's a hole for our door,
And a room for our nest,
So come my sweet bird,
And we both will be blest.

Hi diddle ho diddle,
Pop diddle dee,
'T is the prettiest house
You ever did see !

Thus the little fellow went on singing
as if he would split his throat, and pretty
soon his little mate was seen flying along
toward him. She alighted upon the box,
and nothing could exceed his apparent
delight. Mr. Wren then popped into

the box, and Mrs. Wren popped in after
him.

Jack was an attentive observer of all
these proceedings, and he was greatly
delighted to find that u;e wrens were
willing to accept of the box in exchange
for the cap. The next day, they began
to build their nest in the box. It was
very pleasant, indeed, to see the little
creatures at work. They would carry
up quite large sticks, and were very
handy in getting them into the hole.
They began their work by sunrise, and
so industrious were they, that, in four
days, the nest was finished. The lower
part consisted of rough sticks and coarse
straws. The upper part was finer, and
the nest was lined with fine grass. In a
week, there were four little spotted eggs
in the nest. The female wren was now
rather quiet, but the male wren was very
watchful indeed. If he saw the cat
coming near the trellis, he would fly at
her, and snap his little beak close to her
ears. Puss would sometimes strike her
paws at him, but, in general, she was
frightened and ran away. The little
wren was very pugnacious. If a robin
or a blue jay came near, he went at him
in the most fearless way, and drove him
off. One day, as Jack was watching
him, the little fellow attacked a crow that
was passing by, and, overtaking him,
picked at him so sharply as to make the
old fellow cry for quarter in a very loud
voice. " Caw, caw, caw," said the crow,
and Mr. Wren, seeming satisfied, re-
turned to his box. Perching himself
upon the very top of the trellis, he began
to sing a song of triumph, shaking his
wings all the time, in great glee.

The female wren soon began to sit

INQUISITIVE JACK.

upon the eggs, and nothing could exceed
the watchful care and anxiety of good
master Wren. He was always on hand,
if any cat or bird intruded upon his
dominions ; and they were sure to pay
dearly for their temerity when they did
so. He spent a good deal of his time
in singing, in part, I suppose, to amuse
himself, and in part also to amuse his
little lady.

Well, after a time, there were four
young hirds in the nest, and both Mr.
and Mrs. Wren were too busy in feeding
their children, to sing or play. They
caught flies, and moths, and spiders, and
gave them to their young ones, and it
was amazing to see what a sight of these
insects the little wrens ate, and it was
really amusing to see how serious the
old wrens appeared to be about these
days.

The little ones grew apace, and in a
short time it was thought best for them
to leave the nest. You may well
believe that Jack was on the look-out, to
see the little creatures in their first
adventure forth into the world. In the
first place, one of the young birds put
his head through the door of the box,
and looked all round to see if the coast
was clear. It was amazing to see how
cunning the little fellow was, though not
more than a fortnight old. The old
wrens were at a little distance, chattering
at a great rate, and seeming to invite the
little fellow to try his wing. At last, he
took courage, leaped from the box, and
alighted safely upon a fence at some
distance.

Now, how do you think this little bird !
knew how to fly. where to go, and
how to 'light upon the fence ? for you

must remember that he had never been
out of the box before. I suppose you
will tell me that he was guided by
instinct that strange power given by
the Creator ; and you will tell me right.
After the first one had departed, the oth-
ers came out one by one, and all were
successful in their first flight, except the
last. This little fellow, in attempting to
light upon the fence, missed his footing,
and fell to the ground. The old wrens
came to him immediately, and there was
a prodigious chattering about what had
happened. The little fellow looked very
serious for a time, but at last he made a
new effort, flew a little distance, and
reached one of the lower rails of the
fence. The old wrens cheered him
with their approbation, put a big spider
into his mouth, and he seemed to be
quite happy.

This was a great day among the wren
family. Never was there such a bustle
before ! The little wrens kept calling
out for something to eat ; the old wrens
flew first to one and then to another,
giving each an insect with a little good
advice, and departing to provide more
food.

It would take me a long time to tell
all that happened upon this interesting
occasion. Jack was there, and saw it
all, and if you ever meet with him, you
had better ask him about it. I can only
tell you, at present, that, from this time,
he was very much interested in birds ;
not as creatures to be hunted and tor-
mented or killed, but as creatures that
build nests, and have their homes, and
rear their young ones, which they love
very much, and whom they treat with the
utmost care and tenderness. He looked

DICK BOLDHERO.

upon them as creatures displaying great
ingenuity, many curious habits and won-
derful instincts. He, therefore, found a
great deal more pleasure in watching
their movements, and studying their
characters, than in throwing stones at
them, or shooting them. I shall tell you
about other birds as we proceed in our
story.

Dick Boldhero,

CHAPTER I.
Early days The keg of gold Misfortunes

Is I am about to tell my story, it is
proper that I should say something
of my birth, parentage and early
days. About half way between
Hartford and New Haven, in Connecti-
cut, is a small, pleasant city, called Mid-
dletown. It is situated upon the west-
ern bank of Connecticut river, and lies
upon the turnpike which constitutes the
great avenue between the two places first
mentioned.

About a mile and a half south of Mid-
dletown, upon this high road, is a turn-
pike gate, and contiguous to it is a small
toll-house. This was originally called
Hill-gate, being situated on a hill, but
at last it was familiarly called Hell-
gate. In the house which bore this omi-
nous title, I was born, about five and
forty years ago.

Our family then consisted- of my fa-
ther and mother, a brother, named
Seth, and myself. Seth was two years
old when I was born. When I was

about two years old, a girl was added to
our circle, and she was named Sarah.
We were now very poor, but had once
been in good circumstances. My father
had formerly been a merchant in Mid-
dletown, in partnership with his brother
Benjamin. They traded to the West
Indies, with a sloop called the Carbun-
cle, and my uncle Ben used to command
her. He usually went to St. Domingo,
where he carried horses, mules, cows,
oxen, potatoes, onions, &c., and brought
back sugar and molasses.

From all I can learn, it seems my uncle
Ben was an eccentric character, but still
he managed his part of the business well,
and the concern went on in a thriving
way for some years. At last, it was
thought best for him to remain at St.
Domingo, so as to carry on the business
there, and accordingly it was so ar-
ranged. He took up his residence at
Port au Prince ; but, in about a year
after he was established there, the insur-
rection in St. Domingo broke out. My
uncle, who was a hot-headed fellow,
took some part in the struggle, in conse-
quence of which, he was obliged to
seek safety in flight from the island.
Whither he went, we could not exactly
find out, but we were told that he went
on board a Dutch vessel, bound for Suri-
nam. From that time, however, we
heard nothing of him.

At the time that the disturbances
commenced at Port au Prince, the Car-
buncle was lying in port. Her cargo
was in, and she was almost ready to
sail; accordingly, she took her depart-
ure, and escaped. She brought a letter
from my uncle Ben, very hastily written,
saying that his life was in danger, and

DICK BOLDHERO.

very probably he might never return.
He went on to say, however, that he
should send a keg of gold by the vessel,
which was of great value ; that, if my
father never heard of him more, he
might consider it as his own.

You may well imagine my father's
disappointment, at finding that the pre-
cious keg was not to be found on board
the sloop, when she came back. The
supercargo, whose name was Ambrose
Dexter, and familiarly called Amby Dex-
ter, declared that my uncle had not time
to put the keg on board, that he was
obliged to fly, and that he went hastily
by night on board the Dutch vessel of
which we have already spoken.

My father continued the business for
a year or two, employing Dexter as his
supercargo ; but the trade proved un-
profitable, and at last he became a bank-
rupt. The idea was then common that
the creditor has a right over the soul
and body of his debtor. Accordingly,
the persons whom he owed threw him
into prison, where he remained for two
or three years. My mother was reduced
to extreme poverty, but she still contin-
ued to pick up a subsistence.

Upon my father's failure, Dexter took
the store and continued the business,
and very soon he became a rich man.
For some reason, he seemed to hate my
lather, though he pretended to be very
kind to him. He used to go and see
him in prison, and promised to use his
influence for his liberation ; but it after-
wards appeared that he had actually
bought up claims against him, and
caused him to be imprisoned upon
them.

My father suffered so much from his

confinement, that his constitution was
weakened, and his health impaired for-
ever. After his release, he obtained the
situation of toll-keeper, from which he
received about one hundred dollars a
year. Upon this pittance, our family
was now obliged to live. My mother,
however, was a good economist, and
though we lived humbly, we had still
the necessaries of life.

As I have said, Amby Dexter ad-
vanced rapidly in wealth, and in the
space of a few years he became a very
rich man. In reflecting upon all the
circumstances, my father became suspi-
cious that he had embezzled the keg of
gold, which had been sent by my uncle
Ben, and that this was the secret of his
sudden prosperity. He intimated these
views, in a confidential way, to one or
two whom he esteemed friends. He
showed them the letter he had received
from his brother, together with the doc-
uments tending to establish his views.
These confidential friends, however, be-
trayed his trust, and told Dexter of what
my father had said.

As if our cup of misfortune was not
yet sufficiently full, our house was se-
cretly entered shortly aftej this time, by
sojrie one at night, and my father's pa-
pers were carried off, together with two
hundred dollars, which belonged to the
turnpike company. A story was soon
put in circulation, that the robbery was
all a sham ; and it was soon generally
suspected that my father had taken the
money, and caused the rumor of the
theft to cover up his guilt. He was
tried for the embezzlement of the pro-
perty, but though he was acquitted, he
was deprived of his place.

THE INDIAN AND HIS DOG.

Nor was this all. Dexter brought an
action against him for defamation, in
consequence of what he had said about
him to his confidential neighbors. A
poor man's word is feeble, and carries
little conviction with it ; while the rich
man's word is full of authority. Accor-
dingly, in this contest, my father could
hardly fail to be overwhelmed by his
proud and prosperous enemy. He had
even lost the papers, by means of the
robbery, which justified the suspicions
he had expressed, and thus he was re-
garded by the jury as without excuse
or defence.

He was sentenced to pay five hun-
dred dollars, and being unable to do
it, he was sent to prison. Here he lin-
gered for a few months, till, at last, worn
out and emaciated with confinement,
and sick at heart, his spirit departed,
as I trust, for a better world.

As it is a painful story, I shall not
detail the course of events which fol-
lowed, in respect to my mother. It
must be sufficient to say, that my brother
Seth grew up rather a wild fellow, and
the neighbors said " I thought it would
be so, for he comes of a bad father." At
last, when he ivas about seventeen years
old, he went to sea, and was not heard
of afterwards. For myself, I went to
school till I was nine years old, when I
went, as cabin-boy, on board a vessel
which plied between Middletown and
New York. Here I continued for sev-
eral years though I was often beaten
because they said I belonged to a bad
family. They seemed to think I could do
nothing right. However, I bore it all,
and grew up a sailor. When I was
about fifteen, I went on a voyage to St.

Domingo, and was instructed by my
mother to make inquiries about my
uncle at Port au Prince. This I did,
but as it was about twenty years since
the events occurred which I have men-
tioned, I could hear nothing of him.

After my return, I made several other
voyages, and was soon able to do some-
thing towards the support of my mother
and sister. At last I wem upon a
voyage which produced results which
may be interesting to the reader. I
shall give an account of it in the next
chapter.

The Indian and his Dog,

N the borders of the state of Pennsyl-
vania there lived a man by the name
of Le Fevre, who had a family of
eleven children. One morning, the
youngest of these, about four years of
age, was found to be missing. The dis-
tressed family sought after him, by the
river and in the fields, but to no pur-
pose. Terrified to an extreme degree,
they united with their neighbors to go
in quest of him. They entered the
woods, and beat them over with the
most scrupulous attention. A thousand
times they called him by name, but
were answered only by the echoes of
the wilderness.

The different members of the party
employed in the search, at length as-
sembled themselves together, without
being able to bring the least intelli-
gence of the child. After reposing for a
few minutes, they formed themselves
into several different bands, and renewed
the search. Night came on, but the

THE INDIAN AND HIS DOG.

parents refused to return home. Their
anxiety increased by knowing that the
forests were inhabited by panthers and
wolves, and they could not but paint to
their imagination the horrid spectacle
of some of these dreadful animals de-
vouring their darling child.

" Derick, my poor little Derick, where
are you?" frequently exclaimed the
mother, in the most poignant grief, but
all was of no avail. As soon as day-
light appeared, they recommenced their
search, but as unsuccessfully as the pre-
ceding day. At last, an Indian, laden
with furs, coming from an adjacent vil-
lage, called at the house of Le Fevre,
intending to repose himself there, as he
usually did, in his travels through that
part of the country. He was much sur-
prised to find no one at home but an old
negress, kept there by her infirmities.

"Where is my brother?" asked the
Indian. " Alas ! " replied the negro
woman, " he has lost little Derick, and
all the neighborhood are employed in
looking after him in the woods." It
was then three o'clock, in the afternoon.
" Sound the horn," said the Indian,
" and try to call your master home I
will find his child." The horn was
sounded, and, as soon as the father re-
turned, the Indian asked him for the
stockings and shoes that the little Der-
ick had worn last. He then ordered his
dog, which he had brought with him, to
smell them, and immediately proceeded
to describe a circle of nearly a mile in
diameter, ordering his dog to smell the
earth wherever he went.

The circle was not completed, when
the sagacious animal began to bark.
This sound occasioned some feeble ray
of hope to the disconsolate parents.

The dog followed the scent and barked
again ; the party pursued him with all
their speed, but they soon lost sight of
him in the woods. Half an hour after-
wards, they heard him again, and soon
saw him return. The countenance of
the dog was visibly altered ; an air of
joy seemed to animate him, and his ac-
tions appeared to indicate that his search
had not been in vain. " I am sure that
he has found the child ! " exclaimed the
Indian. But whether dead or alive, was
a question which none could yet decide.
The Indian then followed his dog, who
led him to the foot of a large tree, where
lay the child, exhausted from weakness
and want of food, and nearly approach-
ing death. He took it tenderly in his
arms, and hastened to the parents.

Happily, the father and mother were
in some measure prepared for the return
of their child. Their joy was so great,
that it was more than a quarter of an
hour before they could express their
gratitude to the restorer of their child.
Words cannot describe the affecting
scene. After they had bathed the face
of the child with their tears, they threw
themselves on the neck of the Indian, to
whom they were so much indebted.
Their gratitude was then extended to
the dog ; they caressed him with inex-
pressible delight, as the animal, who, by
means of his sagacity, had found their
beloved offspring ; and, conceiving that
he, like the rest of the group, must now
stand in need of refreshment, a plentiful
repast was prepared for him; after which,
he and his master pursued their jour-
ney ; and the company, mutually pleased
at the happy event, returned to their re-
spective homes, delighted with the kind
Indian and his wonderful dog.

HUSKING THE CORN.

V 1

Husking the Corn,

EB.E they are, all at work, husking the
corn the Widow Wilkiris and her
three children, Tom, Dick and Lucy.
The good woman is giving a lesson
to Dick, how to strip off the husks
and little Lucy is trying to do as Dick
does. Let us listen to the dialogue.

Mother. See there, Dick do you see
that?

Dick. Yes, ma'am.
M. Well now you take off the
husks, and then take hold of the stalk,
just so.

D. Yes, ma'am.

M. And then you hreak off the stalk
close to the ear, just so.

D. Yes, ma'am.

Lucy. There, mother! didn't I do
that hetter 'n Dick ?

M. Yes, my darling. Now, Dick, do
you know how to do it ?

D. Yes; ma'am.

Being satisfied that the husking was
in a fair way, the widow Wilkins de-
parted, and left her children to them-
selves. After she was gone, Dick spoka

THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER.

as follows. " Can you tell me, Tom,
what all this corn is for?" "To be
sure I can ! " said Tom : " some of it is
to feed the chickens with ; some of it is
to feed the pigs with ; some of it is to
feed the horse and cow with, and some
of it is to be ground into Indian meal, to
make Johnny-cake and brown bread
with."

" Well done ! " says Dick. " It seems
to me that the corn is very useful, then ;
for the chickens and the pigs, and the
cow and the horse, and mother and Tom,
and Dick and Lucy, all live upon it.
Really, I never thought of that before.
Then people, when they plant and
plough, and hoe, and pick, and husk the
corn, are working all the while for the
hens, and hogs, and cattle, and people ! "

" Yes, to be sure," said Tom ; " and
what did you think all this labor was
for, before you found out it was useful
in this way ? "

" Why," said the boy, " I thought I
thought I don't know what I thought ;
I guess I didn't think at all or if I did,
I thought it was all a kind of play. But
I know better now; I see that when
people are at work, they are not playing,
but they are doing something useful;
and when mother sets me to work, I
mean always to consider that she has a
good and useful object in view, and that
I must do it, not because it is play, but
because it will do some good."

" Very well," said Tom ; " I hope you
will always do so." By this time, the
husking was done, and I came away.

The Old Man in the Corner; or, the Pedler's Pack,

NO. II.

THE STORY OF THE COTTON-WOOL,

SEVERAL weeks ago I took a ramble
through the beautiful town of Dor-
chester. In the course of my per-
ambulation, I came to a paper-mill,
and being attracted by the stirring sound
of the machinery within, I entered and
looked around me. In one place I saw
an immense bin of rags, of all sizes and
shapes, and of all hues, and apparently
gathered from the four quarters of the
globe. Never did I see such a motley
congregation, crowded together in one
place. As I was looking on the heap,
the thought occurred to me that if each
rag could speak and tell the adventures

of its existence, we should have a col-
lection of romances equal in extent, and
perhaps rivalling in wonders, the thou-
sand and one tales of the Arabian
Nights.

While I was gazing at the heap of
rags, which, by the by, was in a dim
and dusky room, I thought I saw some-
thing rise up in the midst, looking very
much like the skinny visage of a very
thin, old woman, about to speak. I ap-
proached the bin, and loooked steadily
at the grisly image but, on closer in-
spection, it appeared to be only an old
rag, which had, accidentally, assumed
the questionable shape I have described.

I proceeded to examine the several

THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER.

processes of the mill, and great was my
admiration at seeing their magical result.
I discovered that the rags of any hue,
being put into a vat, were bleached as
white as the " driven snow;" that they
were then reduced to a kind of pulp, as
soft as paste ; that this, being mixed with
water, produced a liquid like milk; that
this liquid passed over a wire cloth,
through which the water oozed, leaving
a thin, white, even scum, which, settling
upon the wire cloth, formed the sheet
of paper.

I looked on this beautiful process with
wonder and delight. I saw the sheet
of paper pass over several cylinders,
gradually becoming firmer and firmer,
by pressure and heat, until, at last, I
could see it coiled up, smooth, white and
polished, and several hundred yards in
length. I then saw it unrolled, and, by
a simple machine, cut into sheets, ready
to be sent to market.

I have never seen any manufacture
which seemed to me so admirable.
When I left the mill, I sauntered along
the banks of the river, which turned the
wheels of the mill. The place was
shady, and, it being summer, I sat down.
While I was there, a pretty, black-eyed
girl came along, and I beckoned her to
me. She came smiling, and we fell
Into conversation. She asked me to go
to her house, and being introduced to her
parents, they gave the old man some
food, and treated him kindly. " Will
you tell me a story ? " said the little girl.
" I will write you one," said I and so
we parted.

For some weeks I forgot my promise,
when I received a note from the black-
eyed girl, refreshing my memory on this

1 point. At evening I sat down to write
the tale : but, instead of writing, a
drowsiness stole over me, and I fell into
a dream. Methought I was at my
writing-desk, when I heard a rustling
amid a heap of papers on my table, and
presently something rose up, and as-
sumed precisely the appearance of the
rag in the bin of the paper-mill, which
had seemed to me so much like a hag-
gish old woman. A sort of strange fear
came over me. I could now see the
distinct features of a face, though the
general aspect of the horrid visage was
that of an old calico rag. There was a
long, thin, crooked nose ; deep, twink-
ling, tallow-colored eyes ; a pointed chin,
and a mouth that seemed capable of
uttering unutterable things.

I rose up and stood aloof in fear. I
was about to speak, when the ghost put
her finger on her lip, and, stepping for-
ward, stood upon the middle of the table.
There was something a^ful about this
scene, and I felt chilled, with a creeping
horror, to my very heart. The creature
reached out a kind of crumpled hand,
and in a sort of frenzy I clasped it. But
no sooner had I touched it, than the
image vanished, and I found in my
grasp a roll of paper. This I unfolded,
and found it to be an immense sheet,
written over in a neat, close hand. Cast-
ing my eye at the beginning, I saw that
it read as follows :

"THE REMINISCENCES OF A RAG.

" As the rising sun was just peeping
over the bosom of the Atlantic, and
tinging with gold the waters that play
along the borders of Amelia Island, a
negro man, named Bob Squash, was seen

THE SEA.

putting some little seeds into the ground,
upon the eastern slope of said island.
This event occurred on the 4th of March,
1839, as the wooden clock of the plan-
tation was on the stroke of four.

" The seed was covered up in the
ground, but in a few days it shot forth,
and, in process of time, it became a
large plant, covered with tufts of cotton.
These were gathered by Bob Squash,
and rolled into a wad and from this
time I began to have a consciousness of
existence. That ball of cotton was my-
self. I was packed into a bag with an
immense heap of other cotton, and being
put into a mill, we were awfully torn to
pieces, in order to separate the seeds
from the fibres. The teeth of the mill,
which consisted of a thousand hooks,
went through and through us, and thus
we were parted forever from the seeds
which had been born and bred with us,
and which we had cherished from our
infancy. The seeds, however, were
black, and the combing process made us
look very nice and clean.

" I was now taken, with the rest of the
cotton-wool, and put into a large, coarse
sack, and, in order to make us lie snug,
a little negro got into the sack and trod
us down. He didn't stop to consider
how we might like it, but he went on
stamping and jumping, and singing Jim
Crow, all the time. When the bag was
full, the mouth was sewed up, and we
were marked as weighing three hundred
and seventy-five pounds. In this state
we were called a bale of cotton.

You must know that there are two
kinds of cotton the short staple, or up-
land cotton, and the long staple, or sea
island. The la f . er is the best, and our

bale was of that sort. Of course, we,
being of the aristocratic class, were proud
of our descent ; and, while we supposed
the vulgar upland would be worked
up into shirtings and sheetings, or, per-
haps, cheap calicoes, we expected to be
treated according to our quality, by
being wrought into delicate muslins or
cambrics for the fair. So it chanced, as
you shall see, if you will peruse the
next chapter.

[To be continued.]

THE SEA. From the great depths
which have been actually ascertained in
some places, and the great extent of sea
in which no bottom has been found, we
may conclude that we are under the
estimate when, including banks and
shallows, we allow one mile in depth
for the whole. Even this gives us a
most enormous quantity of water; a
quantity which, estimated in tons weight,
we have the entire quantity of sea water,
with all its saline ingredients, amounting
to the enormous weight of 600,000,000,-
000,000,000, (six hundred thousand bil-
lions of tons.) Of this enormous quantity,
between three and four per cent, consists
of different saline ingredients, and the
rest of pure water ; so that water in the
sea available for the purposes of animal
and vegetable life, the supply of springs
and rivers, and all other purposes for
which water is needed in the economy
of the land, amounts to five hundred and
eighty thousand billions of tons; and
the quantity of salt, at least of saline
ingredients, to about twenty thousand
billions of tons.

SNOW-BALLING.

Snow-balling,

, boys school 's out ! come !

let's choose sides and have a

snow-balling ! "

At this challenge, the boys di-
vide into two groups, and at it they go.
It is capital sport for while it gives an
opportunity for the display of skill and
power in hurling the missiles, it causes
no broken bones no bloody noses no
peeled shins no black eyes. It is the
very mildest, merriest, and most harm-

less of all fighting. A snow-ball pat in
the face draws no " claret," begets no
bad blood, and only provokes a retalia-
tion, in kind, perchance inciting the hit
warrior to squeeze his ball a little harder
and send it back with redoubled, but still
harmless vim.

Those people who live in the sunny
south, where Jack Pros*, never comes
with his snow-flakes, surely miss one
of the greatest delights of our northern

ANECDOTE OF WASHINGTON.

climes. We are willing to forego their
orange groves, their fig trees, and their
grape vines bending as they may be
with fruit in consideration of the fun
of snow-balling. Not that we, ourself
Robert Merry old, decrepit and gray
ever engage in that lively sport. No
such things are past with us ; but though
we cannot personally engage in such
merry work, we can at least look on
and that is a great pleasure.

I remember once when I was at school,
the boys agreed to have a game of snow-
balling, and each one was only to use
his left hand. The work went on brave-
ly and smartly, too, for some time ; each
boy stuck to the treaty, and faithfully
worked with his left hand. But, at last,
one cowardly fellow, named Farwell,
got into a tussle with another chap, and
as he received more balls than he sent,
he broke his faith, and hurled with his
right hand. This provoked retaliation,
for one act of injustice is apt to beget
another. Farwell was soundly beaten,
and in a short time the whole treaty was
violated and overturned. I have often
thought of that little incident and I
close my story by suggesting the lesson
it inculcates; beware of injustice for
it is very likely that you will yourself
suffer from the wrongs that will be done
in retaliation.

ANECDOTE OF WASHINGTON. At the
commencement of the revolutionary war,
there lived at East Windsor, Connecti-
cut, a farmer, of the name of Jacob Mun-
sell, aged forty-five years. After the
communication by water between this
part of the country and Boston was in-

terrupted by the possession of Boston
harbor by the British fleet, Munsell was
often employed to transport provisions by
land to our army, lying in the neighbor-
hood of Boston. In the summer of
1775, while thus employed, he arrived
within a few miles of the camp at Cam-
bridge, with a large load, drawn by a
stout ox team. In a part of the road
which was somewhat rough, he met two
carriages, in each of which was an
American general officer. The officer
in the forward carriage, when near to
Munsell, put his head out of the win-
dow, and called to him, in an authorita-
tive tone " Get out of the path ! "

Munsell immediately retorted, " I won't
get out of the path get out yourself! "

After some other vain attempts to pre-
vail on Munsell to turn out, the officer's
carriage turned out, and Munsell kept
the path. The other carriage immedi-
ately came up, having been within hear-
ing distance of what had passed, and the
officer within put his head out of the ve-
hicle, and said to Munsell "My friend,
the road is bad, and it is very difficult
for me to turn out ; will you be so good
as to turn out and let me pass ? "

" With all my heart, sir," said Mun-
sell ; " but I won't be d d out of the

path by any man."

This last officer was General Wash-
ington. How much more .noble, and
how much more successful, is a mild and
courteous manner, than a harsh and dic-
tatorial one !

QUESTION ON MATHEMATICS. A fel-
low in Kentucky, with a railway ima-
gination, wants to know how long it will
be before they open the equinoctial line.

THE USE OF TELESCOPES.

Nebula.

The Use of Telescopes,

NE of the inventions most important to
science that ever was made, was that
of the telescope. The common tele-
scope is usually called a spy-glass. It
is used to look at distant objects, and it
serves to bring them, apparently, nearer
to view. At sea, the spy-glass is of the
greatest use, for it enables the masters
of vessels distinctly to see the land,
which would scarcely be visible to the
naked eye. He can also see vessels
which are distant, and be able to tell
what kind of vessels they are, what
rigging they have, what colors they

carry, &c., long before these things
could be discovered by the naked eye.

But the telescopes, made for looking at
the heavenly bodies, though apparently
less useful than the common spy-glass,
have still revealed to us many interest-
ing and wonderful, and, indeed, useful,
truths. By means of these, we are bet-
ter acquainted with the moon ; we
now know that it is a rough planet of
mountains and valleys, and, though re-
sembling our earth, that it is without
inhabitants, water or atmosphere.

By means of telescopes we know that

THE USE OF TELESCOPES.

Jupiter, which to the naked eye seems
but a little star, is a great world, with
four moons, and, what is curious, we
know that these moons keep the same
face always turned to the planet, just as
our moon does to the earth. We know
that Saturn, which also seems like a
little star, is a vast world, with seven
moons, and a wonderful belt of light,
encircling it and revolving around it.
These are some of the wonders revealed
to us by the telescope.

But there are still others quite as
interesting. Beyond the stars which
we can see with the naked eye, the
telescope unfolds to the view thousands
upon thousands of others, the very ex-
istence of which we had never known
but for this instrument. Nor is even
this all some of the stars are not single,
but two or three are close together, and
evidently revolve around one another.
These are called binary, or double stars.
Astronomers have observed many thou-
sands of these wonderful worlds, far
away in the boundless regions of space.

You have all seen what is called the
Milky-way, a broad, irregular band of
light crossing the entire heavens. The
ancient poets represented this as the
milk spilt by the nurse of their god
Mercury, and from this poor and paltry
conception, it derived its name. Now,
let us remark what the telescope says
the milky-way is an immense number,
myriads upon myriads, of worlds ! What
a glorious view does this unfold to us
of that God who has not only made the
heavens, but us also!

But beside stars of various magni-
tudes, revealed by the telescope, there
are other objects, called nebula*, from
4

their cloud-like appearance. These are
of various sizes and forms, some being
without denned shape, some being cir-
cular, some long and pointed, and one
bearing a resemblance to a dumb bell.
The engraving at the head of this article
will give some idea of the appearance
of these mysterious bodies, which are
seen, many millions of miles off in the
far regions of space.

The idea has been suggested, and
with good reason, that these nebulce are
particles of matter, thin almost as air,
which are in the process of being con-
densed and formed into worlds. We
know that a detached drop of water
forms itself, at once, into a little globe,
by that principle which pervades all
matter called gravitation ; and we may
suppose that these different particles
forming the nebulae, being attracted to
each other, will gradually assume a
spherical form, and that, in the rush of
these particles toward each other, cur-
rents will be created, which will give the
globe a revolving motion. Such are the
curious speculations of the astronomers,
and there is some reason to think them
correct. What a vast conception does
this view of things unfold for it seems
that not only are there countless millions
of worlds already formed, all around us,
but that, in the distance, the Almighty
is still carrying on the stupendous pro-
cess of manufacturing other worlds !
Far far beyond the reach of the naked
eye far beyond the reach of the search-
ing telescope far beyond even the
daring stretch of the imagination, into
the unfathomed night of space there,
there, is the Almighty lighting up the
regions of nothingness with existence,

THE LOTUS.

bidding new suns to shine in the cham-
bers of silence and death and thus ex-
tending his dominions and spreading
abroad the rays of his glory. If the
angels and good spirits are permitted to
look upon these things to accompany
the Creator in his mighty movements

to look upon his proceedings to fathom,
in some degree, his designs to partici-
pate in his works to co-operate in his
views and to do all this in that blissful
harmony which love to God creates
0, how glorious must be that happiness
which they enjoy !

The Lotus,

I HE Lotus, or lily of the Nile, is a
plant of great beauty and celebrity.
There is one kind which is dried
and made into loaves, and eaten for
bread. The root, which is round and
of the size of an apple, is also eaten.

The flower, at first, stands on the
stalk, one or two feet above the water ;
but when the leaves are expanded and
the seed-vessels fully formed, it grad-
ually sinks till it rests on the surface of
the water. All travellers are very much
struck with the beauty of the lakes and
rivers in Egypt, when, as frequently
happens, they are covered with these
blossoms. Sometimes they spring up
in the places which are flooded during
the overflow of the Nile, and seem to

spread out to a vast extent, covering the
entire surface of the water ; yet when the
flood subsides they perish.

THE MILLER AND THE FOOL. A mil-
ler who attempted to be witty at the
expense of a youth of weak intellect,
accosted him thus : " John, people say
that you are a fool." On this, John
replied, " I don't know that I am, sir ; I
know some things, and some things I
don't know, sir." " Well, John, what do
you know?" "I know that millers
always have fat hogs, sir." " And what
don't you know ? " "I don't know
w^ose corn they eat, sir "

THh

r>AND\.

The Indian Dandy,

IT must not be supposed that the love
of fine dress is confined to city dan-
dies and dandisettes. By no means ;
for travellers tell us that among the
tribes that inhabit the far west, the
young Indian men have a great fancy
for dressing themselves up in a fanciful
way.

The picture at the head of this article

represents a young man whose name
was Prairie Wolf, and it is a very good
likeness. He has upon his head the
horns of a buffalo, which he slew in the
chase ; and beneath is the hair of the
buffalo's pate, with a circular and
notched piece of leather, forming to-
gether a sort of crown. He has beads
around his neck, with a necklace of

THE LOCUST.

bears' claws. He lias, also, a bracelet j
on his left arm. His robe is made of
ornamented deer skins ; his kilt is of
leather, fringed with wampum.

This dress is very modest for a young
Indian. Very often the young fellows,
when they wish to appear lovely in the
eyes of the girls, paint themselves red,
.blue and green: they decorate their
heads with feathers, and, altogether,
make a most extraordinary display.
They then mount a horse and ride
swiftly around the village, coming often
before the women to excite their admi-
ration.

The grave old warriors and hunters,
who have done great deeds in their day,
laugh at such things, and ridicule them
as very contemptible. Indeed, when an
Indian has performed some distinguished
feat in battle, or the chase, he usually
ceases to be a dandy in dress.

One thing is curious among the In-
dians, and that is, that this love of dress
is chiefly confined to the men. The
women, indeed, decorate themselves
with a few beads and other ornaments;
but real dandyism belongs wholly to the
other sex. The females are usually
modest in their attire, and seldom seek
to excite admiration by their dress. It
seems to be among the Indians as among
the turkies the cocks are the only ones
that strut about, showing off their fine
feathers !

11 Do you understand me, now ? " thun-
dered out one of our country pedagogues,
to an urchin, at whose head he threw an
ink-stand. " I have got an ink-ling of
what you mean," replied the boy.

The Locust

rgiHE Locust is an insect whose vast
!' depredations are so little known to
us by experience, that the full extent
* of the plague they cause in Egypt
and other eastern countries, is hardly
credible. A flight of these insects has
been compared to flakes of snow driven
about by the wind ; and if the sun shines
ever so bright, it is no lighter than
when covered by a cloud. When they
alight upon the ground, the plains are
entirely covered with them, and speedily
stripped of every vestige of herbage or
other vegetable ; w r hile at night, locusts
cover the earth in such numbers, that
they lie one upon the other, four or five
inches thick.

The locust, in form, nearly resembles
the grasshopper ; it hops and flies in the
same manner, but is more robust, and
has four large wings. The body is
scaly, the head large, and the eyes very
bright. Their legs and thighs are so
powerful, that they can leap to a height
of two hundred times the length of theii
bodies ; when so raised, they spread
their wings, and fly so close together,
as to appear like one compact, moving
mass. In most parts of the east, they
are made an article of food; and in
Egypt, the catching and cooking of
locusts forms a regular employment.
Their taste is said to be insipid.

ST. PATRICK AND FATHER MATTHEW.

St, Patrick and Father Matthew,

ST. PATRICK was a famous missionary,
who went to Ireland about fourteen
hundred years ago, and taught the
people Christianity. At that time,
the Irish were heathen, and their reli-
gion was a kind of idolatry. Their
priests were called druids, who taught
the adoration of the sun and moon,
together with many superstitions. St.
Patrick persuaded the people to dismiss
their errors and to adopt the truths of
Christianity. He accomplished this great
object by the gentle arts of persuasion ;
and consequently his memory has been
ever held in kind and honored remem-
brance by the greater part of the Irish
people. As it is a great while since St.
Patrick lived, many curious stories have
been invented about him; and, among
others, it is related that he drove all the
venomous serpents, together with the
toads, frogs, lizards and tadpoles, out of
the island. Now this is no doubt a fic-
tion. Probably these stories are a kind
of allegory, by which, under the idea of
reptiles, the errors of heathenism are
meant, and these were cast out by the
good old saint.

But, however this may be, something
quite as wonderful as the tales about
St. Patrick, has taken place in our day.
A good priest or minister, called Father
Matthew, seeing that the people of Ire-
land were very much addicted to drunk-
enness, thought he would try to induce
them to give it up, and become temper-
ate. So he drew up a pledge, and be-
gan to get the people to sign it. He
succeeded very well indeed ; the people
signed the pledge, and many that were

very miserable before, on account of the.
use of whiskey and other strong drinks,
were reformed, and became sober, use-
ful, and happy people. Seeing the great
good that was thus done, other persons
signed the pledge ; and thus the great
work proceeded, until five or six millions
of people had signed it.

This is indeed a great and wonderful
work. It is impossible to say how much
evil has been prevented, and how much
good has been done by Father Matthew.
He has recently been to England, and
thousands signed the pledge there. It
is said he is coming to America, and
surely we shall all be glad to see him.
The following lines, about St. Patrick
and Father Matthew, may be amusing
to our readers, and make them remem-
ber the good they have done.

St. Patrick, 'tis said, cleared Ireland's bogs
Of serpents and reptiles toads, tadpoles and

frogs
But a saint of our day shows a far greater

wonder

For good Father Matthew 's got alcohol under !
St. Patrick did well and we give him a glass
Of pure cold water so round let it pass !
We drink to his name 'tis a bright one in

story,
And, wreathed with green shamrock, shines

ever in glory ;

For if we will read the old legend aright,
The reptiles he vanquished so bravely in

fight
"Were druidical monsters dark errors and

crimes
Which he drove, with the cross, from Erin's

fair climes ;
But alas ! when the saint had long slept in the

grave,
A serpent, more monstrous, crept out from the

wave;
He seemed a good genius was joyous and

frisky

COMBAT BETWEEN A FALCON AND SERPENT.

And so he was welcomed, and they christened

him WHISKEY.

A favorite he grew, and at wedding or fair
By every one cherished sure Whiskey was

there !

And all the world fancied, when he took a part,
Though 'twere praying or dancing, it came

from the heart.

But at last it was seen that a demon of night
Had passed himself off as an angel of light ;
For, in moments of glee, like a serpent he stole
Unseen to the bosom, and coiled in the soul !
Nor was this all for Whiskey 's a fellow
That lives in each liquor, which makes one

mellow

And though he may dwell in a hogshead him-
self,
His spirit is found in a julep the elf!

'T was thus by his arts that he spread o'er the
isle,

And millions on millions did Whiskey beguile.

In vain are the efforts the evils to paint,

Where Whiskey was worshipped as more than
a saint !

There was madness and death there was sor-
row and guile

Yet the source of them all he was wor-
shipped the while !

But murder will out and Whiskey grew bold,

Was detected convicted of all we have told.

St. Patrick was dead, but he left an example

And so Father Matthew adopted the sample ;

He attacked the old monster, and though he
roared out^

And flourished his tail, and turned round
about

Mat laid it on well, and his blows, like a
sledge,

Fell heavy and thick, for he wielded THE
PLEDGE ;

And the last news is this 't is surely no won-
der-
Father Matthew 's atop, and Whiskey is under.

and a young girl who waited upon her
was accused of the theft. As she sol-
emnly denied the charge, she was put to
the torture. Unable to support the ter-
rible infliction, she acknowledged that
" she was guilty," and, without further
trial, was hung. Shortly after, Florence
was visited by a tremendous storm, and
a thunderbolt fell upon a figure of Jus-
tice on a lofty column, and split the
scales, one of which fell to the earth,
and with it the ruins of a magpie's nest,
containing the pearl necklace !

THE RE4L CULPRIT. A noble lady of
Florence lost a valuable pearl necklace.

Combat between a Falcon and
Serpent

MDfi VAILLANT, a famous French
traveller, gives an account of a re-
markable engagement, of which he
* was a witness, between a falcon
and a snake. The falcon is the chief
enemy of the serpent in all the countries
which it inhabits, and the mode in
which it wages war with it is very pe-
culiar. When the falcon approaches a
serpent, it always carries the point of
one of its wings forward, in order to
parry off its venomous bites. Some-
times it finds an opportunity of spurning
and treading upon its antagonist, or
else of taking him upon its pinions, and
throwing him into the air. When, by
this system, it has, at length, wearied
out its adversary, and rendered him al-
most senseless, it kills and swallows him
at leisure.

On the occasion which Vaillant men-
tions, the battle was obstinate, and con-
ducted with equal address on both sides.
The serpent, feeling at last his inferi-

THE PAPYRUS.

rity, endeavored to regain his hole;
while the bird, apparently guessing his
design, stopped him on a sudden, and
cut off his retreat, by placing herself be-
fore him at a single leap.

On whatever side the reptile endea-
vored to make his escape, the enemy
still appeared before him. Rendered
desperate, the serpent resolved on a last
effort. He erected himself boldly, to
intimidate the bird, and, hissing dread-
fully, displayed his menacing throat, in-

flamed eyes, and a head swollen with
rage and venom. The falcon seemed
intimidated for a moment, but soon re-
turned to the charge ; and, covering her
body with one of her wings as a buckler,
she struck her enemy with the bony pro-
tuberance of the other. M. Vaillant saw
the serpent at la^t stagger and fall. The
conqueror then fell upon him to despatch
him, and with one stroke of her beak
laid open his skull.

The Papyrus,

IN a former number of the Museum
we gave some account of the Papy-
rus, a kind of three-cornered reed
which grows in Egypt, and from the
pith of which the ancients made thin
paper. We give a cut representing some
of these reeds growing in the edge of the
water. They are still to be found in the
environs of Damietta, and on the banks

of Lake Menzaleh, and nowhere else in
Egypt. Perhaps the reason of this is,
that, formerly, the government, in order
to have a monopoly of the making of
paper, caused it to be pulled up and
eradicated in many parts of Egypt, and
only allowed it to grow where its pre-
paration could be superintended.

It is said that the mode of making the
paper was this : the epidermis or skin of
the stalk was carefully taken off, and
then the spongy pith within was cut into
very thin slices ; these were steeped in
the water of the Nile, and several layers
were alternately placed crosswise, one
upon the other. These were then
pressed and dried, and rubbed smooth
with a piece of ivory. Thus a substance
was formed resembling our paper. It
was very tough and durable, and many
manuscripts upon it are still in existence,
which are two thousand years old. It
is said that the papyrus was used for
the making of paper so late as the ninth
century.

PIGEON CONES PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

r2 > ~**

Pigeon Cones,

IN Upper Egypt every house and hut
is provided with small houses or
cones, painted white, for the brooding
of pigeons. The number of these
birds, in some parts, is quite surprising.

In certain districts, no man is allowed to
marry or keep house, unless he is in
possession of a dove house. The reason
assigned for this is, that the pigeons fur-
nish the only manure for the grounds.

Pictures of Various Nations,

CHAPTER II.

The people of Greenland Labrador.

IN order to observe some method, in our
account of the people of America, we
shall introduce our readers in the
first place to the Greenlanders, for I
shall here consider Greenland as belong-
ing to the American continent. For a
long time Greenland was supposed to be
united to this American continent ; but
it is now ascertained to be a large
island. It lies so near to America, how-
ever, on the north-east, that it is proper
to speak of it in this connection.

Greenland is a cold country, and very
mountainous. It is quite barren, except
in spots ; but the sea is well stored with
fish. The country also abounds with

reindeer, foxes, white bears, sea-wolves,
sea-dogs and sea-cows.

The Greenlanders are short in stature,
seldom exceeding five feet in height;
but well formed, and rather stout. Their
faces are broad and flat; their eyes,
nose, and mouth commonly small ; their
under lip sometimes thicker than the
upper; they have high breasts and
broad shoulders ; their complexion is
brown or olive, and their hair coal-black
and long.

When they rise in the morning, they
appear thoughtful and dejected, but in
the evening, when their toil is over, they
are cheerful and happy. In general,
however, they are not very lively in
their temper, yet good-humored and
friendly. When a person dies, they
think he goes to the land of spirits
where he spends his time in hunting

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

They are very fond of hunting and
fishing; and in both they are very
expert. They kill many seals; these
furnish them with food. The oil they
use as sauce, and of the blood they make
soup. They use the oil also for lamp
light and kitchen fire.

The clothing of the Greenlanders is
composed of the skin of the reindeer,
seals, and some kinds of birds, which
they sew together with the sinews of the
reindeer, seal, or whale. Their best
garments they keep quite neat; but
their ordinary dress abounds in filth and
vermin. Their clothes smell so strong,
that an inhabitant of the United States
would be glad to get to the windward of
a Greenlander.

The dwellings of the Greenlanders
are of two sorts ; one for summer, the
other for winter. Their summer habi-
tations are light tents, constructed with a
few poles, covered with seal skins. Their
winter habitations are built of stones,
filled in with moss and covered with
turf. The principal apartment is chiefly
under ground, and the passage to it is so
low, that it is necessary to creep rather
than walk to it.

The Greenland women are very much
degraded, and their lives are toilsome.
They act as butchers and cooks ; they
dress all the skins, and then make them
into garments, boots, shoes, &c. They
are even obliged to build and repair the
winter habitations, excepting that the
men assist about the carpenter's work.

We are sure that our readers would
not wish to live in Greenland ; yet the
inhabitants of that island think their
country the best in the world. If at any
time a Greenlander is carried to a warmer

clime, he longs for his native snows;
and, if he cannot hope to return, he
sometimes pines away and dies.

Crossing Davis' Strait, which is not
very wide, we reach that part of the
American continent which is called
Labrador. This is the country of the
Esquimaux.

These people resemble the Green-
landers in several important respects.
Like them, they are low in stature, and
in complexion are very sallow. Their
beards are thick and bushy; but, unlike
the Greenlanders, their constitutions are
feeble. They are a timorous people,
and stroke their breasts in token of
peace, when they approach a stranger.

The word Esquimaux, signifies "eaters
of raw flesh." They are very properly
named. They are a rude and miserable
race of beings, but some of them, it is
said, have been taught to read the Scrip-
tures. Their food consists chiefly of
fish, with the flesh of the seal and the
reindeer. Their greatest luxury is seal
blubber, or oil, which they devour with
as great relish as boys and girls of this
country do sweetmeats.

The dress of these people is made of
skins. Men and women dress nearly
alike. The women use no trinkets
except beads ; but they ornament them-
selves by drawing a needle and thread,
blackened with soot, under the skin.
This leaves a light blue mark. It is a
painful operation; but they delight so
much in this kind of marks, that they
sometimes cover almost their whole
body with them.

The Esquimaux have a singular kind
of dog, of which they keep large num-
bers. In this country, we should think

BONAPARTE AND THE LEG OF MUTTON.

it strange if a dog could not bark ; yet
theirs never bark. They make use of
them to draw their sledges and guard
their habitations. Sometimes they eat
them, and use their skins for clothing.

Their dwellings in winter resemble
caves or holes dug in the earth. They
are rendered very filthy by the large
quantities of fat or oil which are burnt
in them, and which are used in cooking.
In summer, they live in tents, much like
the Greenlanders.

When Captain Parry made his voyage
towards the north pole, a few years
since, he found some Esquimaux people
living north of Hudson's Bay. These
lived in huts, built of frozen snow.
They were very talkative, good-humored
and friendly. When they saw anything
that pleased them, some fell to singing
and dancing, while others screamed as
loud as they could. Captain Parry's
men gave them some food ; but they
made up hideous mouths at it, till, at
length, a sailor wet up some dried bread
pounded fine, with train-oil, which they
licked up with great delight. This
would be a loathsome dish to some of
our readers in the United States.

These people seem to have no idea of
formal religious worship, yet they believe
they shall live after death ; and if they
are good, according to their ideas, that
they shall go to heaven and be perfectly
happy. Perfect happiness, in their view,
no doubt, consists in having plenty of
blubber to eat. Without the light of the
Bible, how degraded mankind are !

" JOHN, your coat is too short."
" Yes, sir ; but it will be long enough
oefore I get another."

Bonaparte and the Leg of Mutton,

SOME forty years ago, we are told that in
England, such was the horror gener-
ally entertained of Bonaparte, that he
was not only the fear of statesmen,
but the bug-bear of the nursery and the
schoolroom. " If you do this," said the
schoolma'm, birch in hand, " I '11 send
Bony after you ;" and, " if you don't do
that, I'll do the same thing." Bony
was, in fact, the great scare-crow, and
many a child grew up under the impres-
sion 1 that he was a sort of secondary
evil spirit.

We are told by an English writer,
that, at a certain boarding school, upon
one occasion, a leg of mutton was stolen,
and, as almost every evil thing was laid
to Bonaparte, the children immediately
supposed that he must be the thief!
The writer himself, then a child, fancied
the emperor, with the mutton in his fist,
running off with it, and taking enormous
strides in his eagerness to escape.

How many lasting prejudices, how
many abiding errors are fixed in the

NAMES OF COUNTRIES AND PLACES SNUFF-TAKING

mind by the inconsiderate threats of
those who have the charge of youth !
It is probable that many of the various
defects, weaknesses and eccentricities of
character, those is some cases which
are fatal to success in life, are caused
by the foolish and false modes of govern-
ment to which we allude. We hardly
know of a more unpardonable offence
than for a person to endeavor to govern
a child through fear of some fictitious
evil.

Names of Countries and Places,

I HE following countries were named
by the Phoenicians, the greatest
commercial people of the ancient
world. These names, in the Phoeni-
cian language, signify something charac-
teristic of the place which they desig-
nated. Europe signifies a country of
white complexions, so named, because
the inhabitants there were of a fairer
complexion than those of Asia and
Africa. Asia signifies between, or in the
middle, from the fact that the geogra-
phers placed it between Europe and
Africa. Africa signifies the land, of
corn ears ; it was celebrated for its
abundance of corn and all sorts of grain.
Lydia signifies thirsty or dry, very
characteristic of the country. Spain sig-
nifies a country of rabbits or conies ; this
country was once so infested with these
animals, that Augustus was besought
to destroy them. Italy means a country
of pitch ; and Calabria has the same sig-
nification, for a similar reason. Gaul,
modern France, signifies yellow-haired,
as yellow hair characterized its first
inhabitants. Caledonia means a woody

region. Hibernia means last habitation ;
for, beyond this, westward, the Phreni-
cians never extended their voyages.

Britain signifies the country of tin, as
there were great quantities of tin and lead
found here and in the adjacent islands.
The Greeks called it Albion, which sig-
nifies, in the Phoenician tongue, either
white or high mountain, from the white-
ness of its shores, or the high rocks on
the western coast. Corsica signifies a
woody place, and Sardinia, the footstep
of a man, which it resembles. Rhodes,
means serpents or dragons, which it
produced in abundance. Sicily means
the country of grapes ; Scylla, the whirl-
pool, is destruction. Syracuse signifies
bad savor, so called from the unwhole-
some marsh upon which it stood. JEtna
signifies furnace, or smoke.

Snuff-Taking.

SNUFF-taking is an old custom ; yet, if
we came suddenly upon it in a for-
eign country, it would make us split
our sides with laughter. A grave
gentleman takes a little casket out of his
pocket, puts a finger and thumb in,
brings away a pinch of a sort of powder,
and then, with the most serious air pos-
sible, as if he were doing one of the most
important acts of his life for, even with
the most indifferent snuff-taker, there is
a certain look of importance proceeds
to thrust it into his nose ; after which he
shakes his head, or his waiscoat, or hio
nose itself, or all three, in the style of a
man who has done his duty and satis-
fied the most serious claims of his well
being.

SQUIRRELS.

It is curious to see the various ways
in which people take snufF. Some do it
by little fits and starts, and get over the
thing quickly. There are epigrammatic
snuff-takers, who come to the point as
fast as possible, and to whom the pun-
gency is everything. They generally
use a sharp and severe snuff, a sort of
essence of pins' points. Others are all
urbanity and polished demeanor; they
value the style, as well as the sensation,
and offer the box around them as much
out of dignity as benevolence.

Some people take snuff irritably, others
bashfully, others in a manner as dry
as the snuff itself, generally with an
economy of the vegetable ; others with
a luxuriance of gesture, and a lavishness
of supply that announces a more moist
article, and sheds its superfluous honors
upon neckcloth and coat. Dr. Johnson
was probably a snuff- taker of this kind.
He used to take it out of his waistcoat
pocket, instead of a box.

There is a species of long-armed
snuff-takers who perform the operation
in a style of potent and elaborate pre-
paration, ending with a sudden activity.
He puts his head on one side, then
stretches forth his arm with pinch in
hand, then brings round his arm as a
snuff-taking elephant might his trunk,
and finally shakes snuff, head and nose
together, in a sudden vehemence of con-
vulsion. His eyebrows are all the time
lifted up, as if to make more room for
the onset, and "when he has ended, he
draws himself up to the perpendicular,
and generally proclaims the victory he
has won over the insipidity of the pre-
vious moment, by a snuff and a great
" Flah ! "

Squirrels,

IN the second volume of the Museum,
we told some things about squirrels in
general, but did not say anything
about the different kinds particularly,
which we will now proceed to do. They
are so interesting a class (or, as the natu-
ralists would say, genus) of animals,
and especially so to children and young
persons, that we think the readers of
Merry's Museum will like to hear more
about them.

They have often, I have no doubt,
been delighted at seeing their gambols,
and their activity in leaping from tree
to tree, and especially in seeing them
eat nuts, sitting on their hinder legs, or
haunches, with their bushy tails turned
up over their bodies, and holding the
nuts in their fore-paws, and making a
hole through the shell with their sharp
teeth to extract the kernel. It is very
amusing to observe them thus engaged,
and very surprising to see how rapidly
they will make a hole through the
hardest shelled nut. For this purpose,
without doubt, it is, that He who made
the squirrels, and who is the same glo-
rious Being that created us, has formed
their teeth very strong and very sharp.

There is quite a variety of squirrels
that inhabit this country, but the most
common in New England are the Gray
Squirrel, the Red Squirrel, the Ground
or Chip Squirrel, and the Flying Squir-
rel. All these kinds are frequently to
be seen in almost every district, though
the flying squirrel, on account of his
habit of stirring about in the night, and
lying still in the day-time, is not so

SQUIRRELS

frequently seen. They are all very
beautiful and interesting creatures.

The gray squirrel is the largest of
those I have named, and is frequently
hunted for food, as his flesh is very
palatable. A squirrel-hunt, in the fall,
is a very common and very exciting
amusement in many places in the coun-
try, and, when conducted with as much
regard to humanity as practicable, is,
perhaps, not only a pleasant, but a
harmless and proper recreation. It is
very apt, however, to be attended with
the wanton slaughter of small birds,
and other instances of unnecessary cru-
elty. In the newly-settled parts of the
country, these squirrels are sometimes
so numerous, that they make very se-
rious havoc with the corn crop, and, in
some cases, almost entirely destroy it.
Its ordinary food, however, consists of
nuts of various kinds, of which, like
the other squirrels, it lays up a large
supply for the winter. " This species,"
says Godman, in his American Natural
History, " is remarkable among all our
squirrels for its beauty and activity.
It is, in captivity, remarkably playful
and mischievous, and is more frequently
kept as a pet than any other." I dare
say many of my young readers have
seen one or more of them in a rolling
cage, and, by rapidly running over the
bars, making it revolve almost with the
speed of a mill-stone. Its general color
is gray, as its name indicates, and it has
a very large, bushy tail, which some-
times hides almost its whole body.

The red squirrel, or Chickaree, as
he is sometimes called in the Middle
States, is the next largest of the four,
and is a common and beautiful animal,

often seen on the trees by the road-sides.
Frequently, you will hear a half barking
and half twittering noise, and, looking
up, you will see a red squirrel on the
limb of a tree, a few feet above you,
from which the sound proceeds. It
seems to be a complaint for your en-
croachment on his premises, and a kind
of warning to move out of his neigh-
borhood. They frequently come around
our dwellings for fruit and various sorts
of food. Several of them now reside
close by my house, and daily come into
my woodshed for butternuts, which my
children place there for them, and carry
them up into a pear-tree standing by
the side of the shed, and then devour
them. I caught one of them in a box-
trap, and kept him in confinement long
enough to make a picture of him, and
then set him at liberty, and he returns
as freely as ever. Their food and habits
generally are similar to those of the
gray squirrel, though they are much
more familiar, in the wild state, than
the other. He is of a reddish brown
color, whence he takes his name, and
he has a dark stripe along his side,
separating the red color from the white.
The account of the chip, or ground
squirrel, and the flying squirrel, will
be given in another number of the
Museum.

CONSOLATION IN SEA-SICKNESS. A lady
at sea, full of apprehension in a gale of
wind, cried out, among other exclama-
tions, " We shall go to the bottom ! mercy
on us, how my head swims ! " " Madam,
never fear," said one of the sailors; "you
can never go to the bottom while your
head swims ! "

THE BLUE JAY LINES.

The Blue Jay.

{{ i BLUE jay," says Wilson, "which

I I have kept for some time, and

II with whom I am on terms of fa-
** miliarity, is a very notable exam-
ple of mildness of disposition and socia-
bility of manners. An accident in the
woods first put me in possession of this
bird, when in full plumage, and in high
health and spirits. I carried him home
with me, and put him into a cage al-
ready occupied by a gold-winged wood-
pecker, where he was saluted with such
rudeness, and received such a drubbing
from the lord of the manor, for entering
his premises, that, to save his life, I was
obliged to take him out again.

"I then put him into another cage,
where the only tenant was a female or-
chard oriole. She also put on airs of
alarm, as if she considered herself en-
dangered and insulted by the intrusion.
The jay, meanwhile, sat mute and mo-
tionless on the bottom of the cage, either
dubious of his own situation, or willing
to allow time for the fears of his neigh-
bor to subside. Accordingly, in a few
minutes, after displaying various threat-
ening gestures, she began to make her
approach, but with great circumspection
and readiness for retreat.

Seeing the jay, however, begin to pick
up some crumbs of broken chestnuts, in
a humble and peaceable way, she also de-
scended, and began to do the same ; but,
at the slightest motion of her new guest,
wheeled round and put herself on the
defensive. All this ceremonious jeal-
ousy vanished before evening, and they
now roost together, and feed and play
together in perfect harmony and good

humor. When the jay goes to drink,
his messmate very impudently jumps
into the water to wash herself, throwing
the water in showers over her compan-
ion, who bears it all patiently, and ven-
turing to take a sip now and then be-
tween the splashes, without betraying
the smallest token of irritation. On the
contrary, he seems to take pleasure in
his little fellow-prisoner, allowing her to
clean his claws from the minute frag-
ments of chestnuts which happen to ad-
here to them."

LINES PLACED OVER A CHIMNEY-
PIECE.

SURLY "Winter, come not here ;

Bluster in thy proper sphere :

Howl along the naked plain,

There exert thy joyless reign ;

Triumph o'er the withered flower,

The leafless shrub, the ruined bower ;

But our cottage come not near j

Other springs inhabit here,

Other sunshine decks our board

Than the niggard skies afford.

Gloomy winter, hence ! away !

Love and fancy scorn thy sway ;

Love and joy, and friendly mirth

Shall bless this roof, these walls ; this hearth,

The rigor of the year control,

And thaw the winter in the soul.

Mrs. Barbauld.

A GERMAN gentleman, in the course
of a strict cross-examination on a trial
was asked to state the exact age of the
defendant.

" Dirty," (thirty,) was the reply.

" And pray, sir, are you his senior
and by how many years ? "

" Why, sir, I am dirty-two."

ANECDOTES.

THE SHOE-BLACK AND HIS DOG. An
English officer of the 44th regiment, who
had occasion, when in Paris, to pass one
of the bridges across the Seine, had his
boots, which had been previously well
polished, dirtied by a poodle dog rubbing
against them. He, in consequence, went
to a man, who was stationed on the
bridge, and had them cleaned. The
same circumstance having occurred more
than once, his curiosity was excited,
and he watched the dog. He saw him
roll himself in the mud of the river, and
then watch for a person with well-pol-
ished boots, against which he continued
to rub himself.

Finding that the shoe-black was the
owner of the dog, he taxed him with the
artifice ; and, after a little hesitation, he
confessed that he had taught the dog the
trick, in order to procure customers for
himself. The officer being much struck
with the dog's sagacity, purchased him
at a high price, and took him to Eng-
land. He kept him tied up in London
some time, and then released him. He
remained with him a day or two, and
then made his escape. A fortnight af-
terwards, he was found with his former
master, pursuing his old trade on the
bridge in Paris.

ADVERTISEMENT EXTRA. The follow-
ing morceau was copied from the origi-
nal notice on board the steamboat Wil-
liam Caldwell, which plies on Lake
George. The placard hung directly over
the "bocks" containing the "snaick."

A Rattel Snaick too bee Shade. Thee
history off this snaick is as follors, hee
was ketcht on tunn mounting buy a

poore man with a large fammely being
sicks yer ould and very wenumous he is
now in a bocks and cant hirt no boddy
which is much better than too bee run-
nin wilde cause hee don't want to eat
nothun.

Admittance is sickpents for them what
pleese to pay it, and thrippents for them
what dont, a libberall reduckshon for
fammeliees for more particklelars pleese
to cawl on OLD DICK.

T. N. Take notiss it was the poor
man and not the snaick that had a large
fammeley.

PAT-RIOTISM. W. E. Robinson, Esq.,
in a speech recently delivered in Balti-
more, said that even the ridicule cast
upon Irishmen was sometimes the high-
est praise. Thus, the nickname of Pat
was a word of the very best signification.
No word beginning with Pat, in the
English language, had a bad meaning.
Patent is applied to something valuable ;
Paternal means fatherly or kind ; Pat-
riarch, the father or head of the family ;
Patrician, a nobleman ; Patriot, a lover
of his country ; Patrol, one who guards
the garrison; Pairon, a protector and
guardian ; Pattern, a thing to be copied.

To our Readers,

WE regret that we are obliged to omit,
this week, the continuation of Bill
Keeler's story of the Lottery Ticket, as
well as some other articles intended for
this number.

We must also defer till another num-
ber several interesting letters from our
correspondents.

Slow.

The Snow-Flakes.

WORDS AND MUSIC WRITTEN FOB MERRY'S MUSEUM

"Gently, gently falls the snow, Lightly, lightly, soft and slow;

i i

f :

-&* -\

IH-h- i J Ll I l 11 ^ 3 ^ 1 } 1

Pret-ty crystals, tell me why, Leave thy home in yon - der sky ?

" All above is pure and true,
Pretty snow-flakesjust like you.
Then why in heaven take thy birth,
Yet seek a home on this dark earth ?

Thus I spoke, and seem'd to hear
A gentle spirit whisper near

" Though from heaven the snow-flakes fall,
And mix with earth the fate of all

" When their winter task is done.
They '11 melt and mingle with the sun ;
And, with his beams, in dew-drops rise,
Pure as before, to yonder skies."

MERRY'S MUSEUM,

Vol. VII.

MARCH, 1844,

No. 3.

MARCH the blusterer is here ! It is a
capricious month, often coming in
like a lion and going out like a
lamb ; to-day it brings us sleet and
tempest, to-morrow, smiling sunshine
and gentle showers. It appears to be
a mixture of all the seasons winter,
spring, summer and autumn yet not
having the agreeable qualities of either.
It is a sort of Jack-at-all-trades, yet good
at none. Of all the months, it is the
least of a favorite.

We are speaking, however, of our
New England March ; in the sunny

VOL. VII. 5

south, it is otherwise. There it is a
month of real spring ; there it calls forth
the buds and blossoms, and bids nature
to assume her loveliest robes of azure,
green and purple. At Charleston, in
South Carolina, the people are regaling
themselves with roses, lilacs and green
peas, while we in the Bay State are
shivering in the raw, cutting gales that
come from the north-east, and bite as if
dipped in acid. Well, never mind, we
must button up our coats close for a few
weeks longer ; spring \$ill come at last,
and we shall enjoy the delights of that

DICK BOLDHERO.

charming season. Let old Boreas roar, if
he will ; his time is nearly out for the
season ; he is fast retreating to Green-
land, where he will have to stay till
December, when we shall welcome him
back, with his ice and snow.

Dick Boldhero,

CHAPTER II.

Adventures in South America.

JEING now about seventeen years old,
and having the reputation of being a
pretty good sailor, I was offered a
berth on board a vessel that was
going to Surinam, a Dutch settlement in
South America. This I accepted, not
only because the pay was liberal, but I
had a vague notion that I might there
hear something of my uncle Ben; for
we had always understood that when he
left St. Domingo he sailed for that place.
My mother seemed always to have a
kind of faith that he was alive, and she
hoped I might hear of him at Surinam.
We set sail in November, our vessel
being a brig called the Sheldrake. We
proceeded for some time on our voyage
without any remarkable occurrence.

When we began to approach the
coast of South America, I could not but
be struck with the splendor of the stars
at night. In those southern latitudes,
we sec a different set of stars from those
which are visible in New England, and
many of the groups are exceedingly
brilliant. The beauty of a tropical
night, especially at sea, even when the
moon is not visible, can scarcely be con-
ceived. The waves of the ocean are

flashing with phosphoric light, and to
such a degree, as to throw a lustre upon
the sides of the ship. The stars are of
sufficient brilliancy to light up the
atmosphere, giving to all the objects,,
above and around, an aspect of peculiar
loveliness.

Surinam is a part of a great country
called Guiana, which forms the north-
eastern corner of the South American
continent, and belongs apart to England,
a part to France, and Surinam to Hol-
land. It is a low, level region, present-
ing not a single hill or highland for two
or three hundred miles. When we
approached the coast, I saw the land ;
nothing was presented to the view but a
line of trees edging the shore, as far as
the eye could reach. Not a house was
visible, nor, indeed, any other object
which could give us the least intimation
as to what part of the coast we had
reached. We kept off the shore, and
proceeded south-eastward, keeping the
land in view.

As we were proceeding in this man-
ner, a smart gale sprung up one night,
and, in spite of our efforts to keep off, we
were driven in toward the land. In the
morning we struck the bottom, and soon
found that we were stuck fast in the
mud-bank which extends out three or
four miles to sea, along the whole coast
of Guiana. It was now December, a
time when the whole face of nature is
wrapped in snow in New England ; but
where we were, the heat was excessive.

After about two days, we contrived to
work our brig out of the mud, and once
more proceeded on our course. At last
we saw a house upon the land, and the
captain, coming to an anchor, sent a boat

DICK BOLDHERO.

ashore, to inquire whereabouts we were.
The answer was that we were near the
mouth of the river Courantin, about a
hundred miles west of Paramaribo, to
which place we were bound. This was
very agreeable news. We now pro-
ceeded cheerfully on our way, and in the
course of two days we could perceive,
by the appearance of the water, that we
were near the mouth of a large river.
This we knew to be the Surinam, and
now, pursuing a southerly course, soon
found ourselves at the wharf of Para-
maribo.

I had been a great deal around the
world and seen a great many beautiful
places, but never was I more delighted
than when I walked about this little city.
It is not larger than Providence, having
only twenty thousand inhabitants, but
the streets are long, straight and broad,
and are lined with the most beautiful
trees that can be imagined. These are
of various kinds, such as oranges, lem-
ons, shaddocks, tamarinds, &c. At all
seasons of the year, these are bending
with fruit, and yet covered with blos-
soms. The air is at all times filled with
perfume, especially at night.

The inhabitants are generally Dutch.
The houses are for the most part of wood,
but they are of a curious fashion, having
very heavy cornices, with abundance of
queer ornaments. Nothing can present
a stronger contrast than do the people in
these streets to those of New England.
In the latter place, there is great uni-
formity; in the former, all is variety.
Here you may see the old Dutch planters,
with their huge trowsers and broad-
brimmed hats ; sailors from all countries ;
soldiers, Jews, Indians and Negroes.

The dresses of these people strike a
Yankee as being exceedingly droll, and
at first, I could not help laughing at
almost everybody I met. By degrees,
the singularity of things around me
wore off, and I became accustomed to the
manners of the place. The river before
the town of Paramaribo is at least a mile
in width, and as there are a great many
boats and barges constantly plying upon
its surface, the scene it presents is of a
very lively character.

The soil of Guiana is among the
richest in the world. The land lies so
low that it is necessary to build dikes,
for the purpose of keeping out ihe sea
and the inundations of the rivers. The
chief productions are coffee, sugar, cacao,
cotton and indigo. It also produces
ginger, pepper, cloves, nutmegs, castor
oil, &c. The object of our voyage was
to obtain coffee ajid spices. There is
no country in the world more rich in its
fruits. Yams, sweet potatoes, bananas,
and the cocoa nut, are produced in abun-
dance. Oranges, lemons, limes, figs,
shaddocks, melons of many kinds, and
other delicious fruits, abound.

Nothing can equal the luxuriance of
the flowering shrubs and plants. Many
of these are of gigantic stature. The
trees often grow to a great height, and
thousands of bright-winged birds seem
to live a life of perpetual bliss amid the
perfume that is shed from their peren-
nial blossoms.

As soon as I had become a little
acquainted with the town, I began to
make inquiry about my uncle. I could,
however, hear nothing of him, until, at
last, an old sailor told me that he remem-
bered,, him perfectly well ; that he cam*

DICK BOLDHERO.

from Port au Prince to Paramaribo more
than twenty years before, where he
remained only for a year or two. The
man could give me no farther informa-
tion about him. He told me, however,
that there was an Englishman residing
up in the country about a hundred miles,
who had some business with my uncle,
and he could tell me all about him. As
our vessel was likely to be detained
about a month, I got permission of the
captain to go and see this man, to whom
I was referred for information respecting
my uncle.

I set out on foot, and pursued my way
along the banks of the river Surinam.
The road was roughly paved with
stones, and heavy wagons were fre-
quently passing to and fro upon it.
Although I was in a strange country, I
felt no concern, for I was naturally of a
fearless disposition, and beside, I was
armed with a cudgel in my hand, and a
pistol under my belt. So far, indeed,
was I from fear, that I felt a sort of
pleasant excitement in my present adven-
ture. The strange appearance of every-
thing around me rather excited than
saddened my mind. The trees, .the
shrubs, the very birds, the whole aspect
of nature, the forms of the houses that I
occasionally met, the dress of the inhab-
itants, all reminded me that I was far from
my own country, that I was a stranger
in a strange land ; but still I was light of
heart, and whistling Yankee Doodle, I
plodded bravely on.

I had set out before sunrise, and by
ten o'clock had travelled more than a
dozen miles. Finding myself weary, I
turned off the road, and seated myself on
the bank of the river, beneath the shade

of a large tree. Here I sat for some time,
listening to the incessant chatter of par-
rots and macaws over my head, and
observing the humming birds that were
buzzing among the flowering shrubs.

At last, I fell asleep, as little dreaming
of danger as if I were taking a nap upon
a summer day upon the banks of the
Connecticut river. I slept soundly for
some time, but at last I began to dream
about a great many strange things. I
fancied that I was wandering in a dis-
tant land that I finally came to a great
cavern, which I entered that I was
weary and laid myself down to repose
that a horrid monster stole upon me in
my helpless condition, and was about to
rend me in pieces ; I dreamed that I
attempted to rise and escape, but that I
could not stir. Such at last was the
horror of my mind, that I screamed
aloud, and at the instant awoke from
my sleep.

What was my horror to discover that
my dream was almost a reality ! At
the distance of about twenty feet I saw
an : enormous alligator, with his jaws
already distended, ready to press me in
his fangs. He was slowly stealing upon
me, but as I moved, he rushed forward,
his enormous tail brandished in the air,
and his claws spread, as if ready to
grapple me. Quick as thought, I leaped
from the ground, and at a single bound
placed myself behind the trunk of the
tree beneath which I had been sleeping.
The monster perceived that he was
foiled in his main object ; but unluckily
I had left my wallet, containing a loaf
of bread and some cold meat, upon the
ground where I had lain. The creature
picked this up in his mouth, and wheeling

BILL AND THE BOYS.

heavily round, marched down the bank
and plunged into the water. At first, I
was quite satisfied to have escaped with
my life ; but I soon began to lament the

loss of my dinner. It was in vain, how-
ever, to repine, so I seized my cudgel,
and proceeded upon my journey.

[To be continued.]

Bill and the Boys,

The Lottery Ticket, continued.

THE reader will remember that Tom
Trudge had set off from his home in
the country, to go to New York and
see to the success of his lottery
ticket. He soon arrived at the great
city, and found, to his vexation, that the
drawing of the lottery was postponed
for a week beyond the appointed time.
It seemed to him hardly worth while to
return to his home, but what should he
do to get rid of this terrible week?
When we are looking forward with
impatience to a certain event, the time
that stands between us and the object of

desire, is considered a hateful enemy,
and we set about killing it as well as we
can. Some people are as anxious to kill
time, as if it were a lion or a grizzly
bear.

At the period we speak of, some thirty
or forty years ago, a common way of
killing time, or, in other words, of wast-
ing that most precious gift of Heaven,
was to go to a tap-room or tavern, and
drink flip, whiskey or grog, and indulge
in low and vulgar conversation. Such
things are considered very silly now,
but it was otherwise then. Tom could
think of no other way to spend his week
than to go to the Jefferson and Liberty
tavern, and indulge in the amusements
of the bar-room. So thither he went>

BILL AND THE BOYS.

and by keeping himself in a state verging
on intoxication, he continued to while
away the awful seven days.

At last the appointed hour came. A
firm conviction had taken possession of
Tom's mind, that he was to draw the
prize of fifty thousand dollars. He did
not seem to consider that there were
twenty thousand tickets, and that his
chance of getting it was only one in
twenty thousand. To a deluded mind,
such an obstacle is nothing ; one chance
in twenty thousand is just as good as
certainty. When the drawing took
place, the office was thronged with a
crowd of people, most of them wretched
in the extreme. There were old men,
tottering upon the verge of the grave ;
there were haggard women, evidently
starving for want of the money they had
invested in the lottery; there were
young persons, of both sexes, apparently
sunk in vice and wasted with poverty ;
there were the sick and emaciated,
mingled with the strong and the reck-
less. All anticipated with hope and
expectation, and yet all, or nearly all,
were destined to go away with disap-
pointment and sickness of heart.

Tom got close to the revolving wheel,
and, with his ticket in his hand, watched
the numbers as they were declared.
Several times his heartbeat violently, as
a number came out near his own. The
drawing continued for more than two
ho t urs, and his hopes began to fly, as he
perceived that the prizes were nearly all
out. At last his own number, which
was 777, was announced, and immedi-
ately after, it appeared that it had drawn
the prize of 50,000 dollars ! ! !

Tom Trudge was in general a pretty

stable-minded man, but for a moment
his eyes grew dim and hid brain reeled.
A strange variety of images glided in
confusion before his fancy, among which,
his wife, with a yaller damask gown
t and a fine fan, were conspicuous. Find-
ing it necessary to have air, he left the
crowd, and went into the street. For
some time he could hardly tell where or
what he was ; but at last his faculties
rallied, and, coming fully to himself, he
began to consider what was to be done.

He made inquiries at the office, and
found that he could cash his prize at
once by paying 5000 dollars discount ;
this he did, and immediately found him-
self in the possession of the sum of
forty-five thousand dollars, an immense
sum in those days, especially for a ped-
lar, who had seldom before had fifty
dollars in hand at a time. Though he
was anxious to go home and communi-
cate his good fortune to his wife, he did
not forget her injunction. He went
forthwith and purchased a magnificent
changeable silk dress, of yellow and
purple, upon which was a representation
of a bathing goddess in figures of gold.
He also purchased a fan, on one side of
which was a Venus, and on the other a
Cupid, and started for home. Stopping
at every tavern on the road, he drank
liberally, and by the time he reached his
cottage, his brain was not a little mud-
dled.

When he entered the little dwelling,
his hair was dishevelled, and his eyes
staring, his whole aspect, indeed, was
wild and singular. He, however, rushed
up to his wife, exclaiming, " I have got
it! I have got it!" He then kissed
her over and over again ; took up his

BILL AND THE BOYS.

children and nearly stifled them with his
obstreperous embraces ; at the same time,
he shouted, danced and whirled round
like a bedlamite. " What is it ails you,
Tom ? What in natur' is the matter ?
Are you drunk or mad?" said his
spouse. " I have got it, there, there ! "
said Tom, hurling the bundle of silk at
his wife's head. " There 's the yaller
damask, and the fine fan ! And here 's
the fifty thousand dollars ! " Saying
this, he took an enormous bundle of
bank bills from his pocket, and giving it
a whirl around his head, threw it across
the room, and scattered the precious bits
of paper over the floor. It is impossible
to depict the astonishment of Mrs.
Trudge, as she beheld the shower of
bank bills, of five, ten and even twenty
dollars each, now lying before her, as
abundant as the very chips around the
wood-pile.

For a moment the dame was bewil-
dered, and the idea crossed her mind
that it was only a dream. It was indeed
so much like one of those visions that
often cheat the mind in sleep, that she
stood still, rubbed her forehead and looked
puzzled for several seconds. But in a
few moments her husband, quite out of
his head, began to dance among the
scattered bills, and cutting his pigeon-
wings where they lay thickest, made
them fly in all directions. Several of
them were near the hearth, and, caught
by the draught, edged closer and closer to
the heap of coals, and at last bounded
under the forestick and were instantly
reduced to ashes. Others took a flying
leap up the throat of the chimney, and
circling round and round, disappeared
amidst the soot and coiling smoke.

These circumstances at last recalled
Mrs. Trudge to her senses. She had
by 4egrees unravelled the tangled skein
of events and made out the truth. She
saw that her husband had actually
drawn a great prize ; that, obedient to her
command, he had bought the damask and
the fan, and that, between tippling and
delight, his wits had gone wool-gathering
for a season. She saw the necessity of
immediate exertion to save the bank
bills, now scattered like worthless rags
upon the floor, her bewitched husband
still rigadooning in their midst, and
grinding them beneath his feet, or
making them circle about upon the
eddies of air that his brisk motions
created. Like a hawk pouncing upon a
brood of chickens, she now stooped upon
the cash, and gathered it by handfuls
into her apron, which she held up by the
two corners. Seeing what she was
about, her addled lord came after her
and chased her round the room. But
Mrs. Trudge took good care to keep out
of his way, and soon succeeded in pick-
ing up the greater part of the bills. At
last her husband, being completely ex-
hausted, fell upon the floor. His good
wife then dragged him to bed, and leav-
ing him there in a sound sleep, she
completed her work of securing the
money.

Trudge slept long and heavy, but at
last he awoke. He seemed sadly bewil-
dered, and put his hand to his forehead
in a manner which showed that he not
only had a pain in his head, but was
troubled in mind. At last he turned to
his wife, and demanded, " Where is the
money?"

" Money ? " said his better half,

THE OLD MANSION.

"Money! what man money! money,
indeed! I think I should like some
money myself. "Pis a pretty business
indeed: you go away and leave your
tender wife and suffering children for
ten long days; you then come back
drunk as a fiddler, cut up all sorts of
cantraps about the house, almost mur-
ther your family, and then, after you
have come to your senses, you ask, as
innocent as a cat licking cream, ' where
is the money ? ' Where is the money ?
say I. Zounds, where is my yaller
damask and the French fan ? Come,
speak, man! Or is it all a dream?
Didn't you draw the big prize, after all?
Oh, Tom, Tom ! I told you so ; I told
you how it would be ; I knew you had
thrown away your money, and here we
are, a poor innocent family, reduced to
ruin, poverty and starvation ! ! " Upon
this, the dame held her apron to her
eyes, and the tears, real tears, bright as
crystals, chased each other down her
rosy cheeks.

Poor Tom Trudge ! There he sat on
the bedside, the very image of bothera-
tion. For the life of him, he could not
tell whether he had really drawn the
prize, or only been visited by a bewil-
dering vision. At last, however, the
mists that had hung over his mind began
to clear away ; the truth came more and
more distinct to his mind, and finally he
recollected the drawing of the lottery,
his obtaining the forty-five thousand
dollars, his buying the damask and the
fan his journey homeward, and the
meeting with his wife. Just as he had
fully brought to recollection the whole
affair, he looked up, and discovered a
half malicious smile shining through the

tears of his spouse. She now burst into
a hearty laugh, and brought forth the
bundle of bank notes, nicely done up,
and Tom Trudge and his wife were the
happiest couple in the universe.

[To be continued.]

The Old Mansion.

THE following simple but touching
ballad was composed a short time since,
by a girl in Maine, about seventeen years
of age, who had been suffering several
years from a weakness of sight, so as to
prevent her reading or writing. It was
taken down, from her dictation, by a
friend.

There stood a stately mansion old

On brow of sloping hill ;
There many a joyous day I 've passed,

And mem'ry loves it still.

'T was 'neath the shade of lofty elms

And evergreen dark pine,
Where robins sing, with notes so sweet,

In spring and summer time.

There dwelt my aged ancestor,

With partner of his years ;
They 'd travell'd long together here

In sunshine and in tears.

Their spring-time hopes were faded,

And winter days came round,
Yet sunny ties of kindred

Their hearts to earth still bound.

My grandma's eyes were soft and blue,

And tenderly she smiled,
She ne'er thought ill of any one,

Her words were always mild.

I never shall forget her voice,
The tones of her " Good even' j"

Nothing we ever asked her for
But what was kindly given.

THE OLD MANSION.

My grandpa' often told us tales,

All of the olden time ;
And of the wars for liberty

He fought in " auld lang syne."

He gave us pretty picture-books

On happy New-Year's day ;
And poor, who hither came for aid,

Ne'er empty went away.

Grandma' would tell us of the train!

The beaver hat and plume,
And all the fashion of the dress

She wore in girlhood's bloom.

She always kept some plums or cake

In cupboard saved away,
To give " the children," every time

They came with her to stay.

And we assembled every year

In that wide ancient hall,
To keep the old Election-day,"

Parents and children all.

Then rang the walls with merriment,
With laughter and with glee ;

Those sounds come o'er my memory now,
And sadly seem to me.

Oh, there were entries long and dark,

Clock-room and pantry too ;
And a hole was cut in the cellar-door,

Where fav'rite cat went through.

Grandma' wore parted on her brow

Her own soft, silvery hair ;
And scissors bright at her girdle hung,
itting her fingers were.

A buck-horn head had grandpa's cane,

His hat was wide of brim ;
His silver snuff-box was a gift

From Washington to him.

Up in the garret long and low,
Was spinnet and spinning-wheel ;

For grandmamma, though lady bred,
Could deftly spin a reel.

Then at foot of the kitchen stairs
There stood a " settle " low ;

And cheerily the large fire blazed
With log and fore-stick too.

With wheels and bucket in the porch,

There was a deep old well ;
We thought, as in its depths we gazed,

A fairy there might dwell.

And there were haunts so old and dark

We hardly dared to stay,
Where bones and curious things were kept,

And mouldering rubbish lay.

We wandered in the orchard green,

Where large red apples grew,
And damsons purple, moose-plums sweet,

Of varied size and hue.

We shook the branches merrily,
And strewed them on the ground j

Such mellow and delicious fruit
Could nowhere else be found.

Down in the " Happy Valley " near

A streamlet wandered by ;
We often crossed its bridge, to climb

For wild choke-cherries high.

We ran, too, in the long, straight mall,

Bordered with poplar trees,
Mingled with rose and currant bush,

Lilacs and gooseberries.

We sported in the garden aisles,

And sat in the arbors old,
Whose many-fancied tales of love

Then laughingly we told.

There grew the honied columbines,

And fragrant fleur-de-lis ;
And grandma's yellow marigolds,

And full-blown peony.

And there, with many a frolic wild,

We fled the hornets' rage ;
And grandma' smiled, tho' footsteps marred

Her much-prized bed of sage.

Her fav'rite pinks and southernwood
With fragrance filled the air ;

The summer days were always warm,
And every spot seemed fair.

THE DESMAN, OR RUSSIAN MUSK-RAT.

The violets were very blue,
The grass was tall and green ;

Such colors in my womanhood
I never since have seen !

The cows from their rich pastures came

Just at the sunset glow ;
And laughing maids came out to milk,

And sat on cricket low.

'T is the same sun in the sky, I ween,
Ah, now it seems more cold ;

And my cousin's happy tones I miss
That fell in the arbors old.

That cherished place is still most fair,
There blooms the peony,

He walks not o'er his broad lands now,
Nor she her flowers to see.

Alas ! I never shall forget

When cold I saw her lay ;
And full of years and goodness too,

They bore grandma' away.

Eight times, as wont, the summer bloomed,

Eight times the autumn fell,
And he, the lonely, grey-haired man,

Was borne by her to dwell.

The flame broke wild and brightly forth,

One Sabbath evening still !
In ruins fell the mansion old

On brow of sloping hill.

The Desman, or Russian Musk-Rat,

nnnis creature resembles the common

'' musk-rat, and is found both in Rus-

I sia and Sweden. It is about the

- size of the common hedgehog, the

body being eight or nine inches long.

Its coat is like that of the beaver, and is

composed of hair intermixed with soft,

clear and delicate fur. The color is
brown above, and silvery beneath. The
tail, which is seven inches long, is one
of the most extraordinary mechanical
instruments in the whole animal king-
dom. It is composed of three parts, each
of which has a motion peculiar to itself

INQUISITIVE JACK.

The Desman chooses the margin of
such places as are convenient for the
burrows which it digs under water.
These are sometimes seven yards in
length, and are used as hiding-places.
The water freezes over these entrances,
and numbers of the animals are suffo-
cated every winter. If there are any
cracks or fissures in the ice, they crowd
to them, eagerly thrusting their noses up
to get the air.

The Desman preys at the bottom of
the water, and dabbles with its nose in
the mud, in search of the small insects
which inhabit it. Its senses of touch

and smell are very acute ; this is ren-
dered necessary from the fact that the
animals upon which it preys are silent
and invisible. Although nearly blind,
it is not a nocturnal animal, but sleeps
during the night, at which time it keeps
its nose constantly moving, in order, it is
supposed, to retain the organs in a
proper state for work. Water is indis-
pensable to its existence, and after hav-
ing remained in a small quantity for any
time, it is rendered very offensive from
a strong musky odor, from which it
derives its common name of musk-rat.

Inquisitive Jack,

CHAPTER II.

About the hen and her chickens.

IT seems natural for mankind to love
accumulation. When a child has
got two or three pieces of money, he
wants more, and his desire of increas-
ing his stores, increases with his little
wealth. When a person gets together

a few minerals, his wish to form a cabi-
net begins, and in proportion as his col-
lection enlarges, his eagerness for more
specimens is stimulated. This love of
increase, is what I call a love of accu-
mulation^ or a love of laying up.

Now it is all the same with knowl-
edge. A person who has only a few
ideas, is like the child who has only a

INQUISITIVE JACK.

few coppers; he is usually eager to
spend them and get rid of them. But
one who has stored his mind with many
ideas, is like a person who has com-
menced a cabinet of minerals : he wishes
to increase his collection ; he wishes to
get new specimens, and is delighted
with those which are rare and beautiful.

Now, our hero, Jack, was just in this
condition : he had begun his mental
cabinet of knowledge ; he had learned a
good deal about insects ; and he had
entered the gate of a new and beautiful
science ORNITHOLOGY or the study of
birds. How little did he think that his
acquaintance with the wren family had
advanced him so far into the delightful
mysteries of science. Yet so it was.
He now began to notice other birds, such
as the blue-bird, which belongs only to
America ; the sparrows and finches,
which build their nests in the hedges
and bushes, and sing so sweetly.

About this time his attention was very
strongly attracted by a hen and her
chickens. Jack had himself set the
hen ; that is, he had put the eggs under
her, there being thirteen ; for he was
told that an even number was unlucky,
and an uneven number lucky ; a notion,
by the way, that is very common, but
utterly destitute of foundation. He was
told that the eggs would be hatched in
just three weeks, and so it proved.

It is a curious thing that the eggs of
hens should always be hatched in just
three weeks, and I must stop to tell you
a story about this. A man who pre-
tended to be good and religious, told one
of his neighbors that his hens always
hatched on Sunday, and he wondered
what the reason was, " I can tell you,"

said the neighbor ; " it is because you set
them on Sunday ! " Thus we see that
the improper conduct of the pretended
good man was exposed.

But to return to Jack. About the
time the hen was to hatch, he went
every day to see if the chickens had
come along. He could not help won-
dering at the patience of the old hen, in
sitting night and day so faithfully upon
her eggs. He noticed that she went off
her nest but once a day; that she was
then in a great hurry to get a little food
and drink, and return to her duty, as if
she was afraid her eggs would suffer.
He observed that nothing could tempt
her from her charge; the other hens
were out in the fields, scratching the
earth, feasting on worms and insects,
and delighting in the spring time ; but
the old hen, forsaking these pleasures,
remained upon her eggs. Though she
was wasted by hunger, thirst and fever,
nothing could induce her to betray her
trust. There she continued, obeying
that voice within, which we call instinct.

On the twenty-first day of the hen's
sitting, Jack went early in the morning
to the nest, and his delight knew no
bounds, when he heard, on approaching
it, the chickens peeping under the old
biddy's feathers. The good mother her-
self seemed to be filled with a sort of
quiet ecstacy. When she heard the
gentle cries of her offspring she endea-
vored to hush them to rest by a few low
notes, as much as to say,

" Hush, my dear lie still and slumber."

All this day, the hen remained on her
nest, and Jack gave her a little Indian
meal mixed with water, to eat. The

INQUISITIVE JACK

next day, twelve of the thirteen eggs
were hatched, and the old hen, with an
air of importance, and great caution, set
forth with her brood. It was interesting
indeed to witness the scene.

No sooner had the mother and her
flock issued from the shed in which the
hatching or incubation had taken place,
than she began to scratch away the
leaves and grass with all her might.
The chickens kept close to her side, and
though but a day old, seemed to know
perfectly well what it all meant. They
picked up the little seeds and insects
and swallowed them down, taking care
to avoid stones and dirt, and things that
are not fit for food. How could these
little creatures know so much ? That is
a curious question, and I can only
answer, that God has made them so !

The old hen went on from place to
place, clucking all the time, and taking
the utmost pains to keep her brood
together, and under her own immediate
inspection. She made her legs fly
merrily among the leaves, and many a
bug and grub and worm did she discover
for her little ones. She would eat
nothing herself, but gave everything to
her chickens, except once in a while
she came across a beetle or other insect,
too big for her infant flock, and then
she swallowed it.

Nothing could exceed the industry,
energy and watchfulness of the old
biddy. For hours together, she con-
tinued to scratch and dig for her young
ones, as if life depended upon it. And
all this time, it was delightful to see how
careful she was of her brood. Her head
was bobbing up and down every instant,
and her sharp eye was turned on every

side, to see if there was danger. Not a
bird flew over unmarked, and if it was
in any degree threatening in its appear-
ance, the whole flock was instantly
drawn to a place of safety. If a cat or
dog came near, they were sure to repent
it, and learn better manners for the
future.

When, at last, the young emigrants
had filled their little crops, and become
weary, the old hen gathered them under
her wings. There is nothing in all
nature more pleasing than a hen brood-
ing her chickens. The little creatures
themselves are marked with a singular
smoothness, beauty and look of inno-
cence. Those which are most weary
bury themselves deep in the plumage of
their mother's breast, and here, cher-
ished by a genial warmth, embedded in
down, and every want and fear appeased,
they fall to sleep. Those which are not
yet so drowsy, peep out their heads from
their mother's feathers, and look around;
or they linger outside and pick among
the gravel for food; or they nibble at
the old hen's beak ; or perchance they
smooth some bit of their delicate plumage
that is ruffled ; or possibly climb up the
old hen's back. The look of innocence,
peace and happiness displayed by the
chickens, and the mingled aspect of care
and content borne by Mistress Biddy,
afford a touching and delightful picture.
Who can witness it and not feel that the
God of love is the author of what we
call nature ?

All these things were noted by Jack,
and after he had observed them a long
time, he went for his aunt. He found
her quite busy, but he could not be con-
tented till she left her work and went

INQUISITIVE JACK.

with him to see the hen and her chick-
ens. After looking at them a long time,
they went to the house, and some days
after the following conversation took
place :

Jack. Pray tell me, aunt Betsey, why
the hen that has chickens always keeps
clucking ?

Aunt Betsey. So that the chickens
may always know where she is. The
chickens are continually running about,
and sometimes they go to a considerable
distance, but as the hen is always cluck-
ing, they can at any time find her. But
for this they would inevitably get lost.
If the Creator had forgotten to teach
hens to cluck, and had neglected to
make any other adequate provision, a
brood of chickens could never have been
raised.

J. Well, why do the chickens always
keep peeping ?

Aunt B. So that the hen may know
where they are. You will observe that
if two or three chickens are wandering
together, away from the hen, their peep-
ing is usually faint and low ; but if one
is straying alone, his tones are loud and
distinct. They seem to feel confidence
when several are together, but if one is
alone, he feels that it is necessary to
speak out. The clucking of the hen
may be considered as continually calling
to her scattered brood, " Here I am,
chicks here I am," and the peeping of
the chickens may be considered as say-
ing, " Here I am, mother here am I."
In this way, a communication is kept up
even while the brood is scattered over a
wide space, in search of food. Almost
all birds have natural cries, which answer
the same purposes with them, as the

clucking of the hens and the peeping of
the chickens with these.

J. Well, aunt Betsey, I observe that
the old hen seems to talk to her chick-
ens. If a wren or a sparrow, or any
other little harmless bird flies by, the old
hen says, " curr-r-r-r-r," in a moderate
tone, as much as to say " look out," and
so all the chicks just cast their eyes
around and seem to take no notice of
what has happened. But if a hawk
appear in the air, and near by, the
" curr-r-r-r-r " is uttered in a wilder key.
The old hen steps high, and seeks a
shelter, and the little chickens run to her
as if frightened out of their little wits.
Now, what I want to say is, how do the
chickens, only two or three days old.
know so much and understand so well
what their mother means and says ?

Aunt B. You might as well ask,
Jack, how the chickens know so much
as to pick up seeds and worms when
only a day old. The seeming knowl-
edge of these little creatures, which is
often so wonderful, is to be explained,
as we explain the skill of the bees in
building their cells, and the ants in con-
structing their little cities in the earth
by instinct a power or knowledge im-
planted by nature, or, in other words, by
God, the author of nature. He gives
those powers ; and though we may see
their effects, he only can explain their
operation. But there is one thing in
your observations upon the chickens, to
which I wish to call your attention,
Jack. Did you ever know the old hen
to call to her chickens in danger, when
they neglected or disobeyed the call ?

.7. No, not that I remember.

Aunt B. Let this, then, be a lesson

CITY OF ANCIENT BABYLON.

to you, my boy. The little birds are
taught obedience to their parents by God ;
and they obey. So God has taught chil-
dren obedience, for he has said in the
solemn commandment, " Honor thy fa-
ther and thy mother;" and the apostle
adds, " Children, obey your parents in
the Lord, for this is right." The hen,
the parent of the chickens, is their guar-
dian ; she knows more than they do ;
she is stronger, and sees farther, and is
wiser than they. It is best for the chick-

ens, therefore, that they should obey her.
Were they to neglect her counsel, they
would be devoured by prowling beasts
or birds of prey. The obedience, there-
fore, that they are called upon to exercise,
is imposed for their good. And just so
it is with respect to children ; their pa-
rents have more experience, knowledge,
and wisdom than they have ; they know
what is best for them. It is, therefore,
for the true happiness of children that
they should obey their parents.

City of Ancient Babylon,

AMONG the most wonderful things hand-
ed down to us by history, is the
accou nt of the ancient city of Babylon,
which is so often mentioned in the
Bible, and the remains of which astonish^

the traveller at the present day. The
most particular description we have of it
is furnished by the Greek historian,
Herodotus, who visited it about four
hundred and fifty years before Christ.

CITY OF ANCIENT BABYLON.

He says that it was situated in a great
plain, the river Euphrates running
through it from north to south.

Its form was square ; each side meas-
ured fifteen miles, and the whole circuit
sixty miles. It was surrounded with
walls, three hundred and fifty feet high
and eighty-seven feet thick. Upon these
walls were two hundred and fifty towers.
The entrance to the city was by one
hundred gates of brass. Without the
wall, there was a deep ditch around the
city, filled with water.

Upon the tops of the walls, there were
buildings on each side containing one
room each. Between these there was
space to drive a chariot with horses.
The walls were built of bricks cemented
together by bitumen. At every thirty
layers of bricks, there was a layer of
reeds to give the fabric strength. The
engraving at the head of this. article is
intended to give some idea of the form
of this mighty city, as described by
Herodotus.

The streets in the city were straight,
the houses being four or five stories high.
The temple of Belus was of amazing
magnitude, being nearly as large as the
great pyramid of Gizeh. It was a regu-
lar square, each side measuring six hun-
dred feet. It consisted of eight towers
one above another, and was of immense
height. Beside this, there was a mag-
nificent palace, and connected with it
were hanging gardens of great extent.

The history of Babylonia goes back to
a period of high antiquity. Its founders
were among the earliest nations that
have been formed upon the earth, and
they appear to have reached a certain

degree of science and civilization, nearly
two thousand years before Christ. Nim-
rod is mentioned in the Bible as the
founder of this empire, of which Babylon
was the capital. Here the kings of Assy-
ria held their court, and displayed a mag-
nificence, the accounts of which strike
us with wonder. Here many of the arts
were carried to great perfection, particu-
larly the manufacture of cotton, linen and
silk.

Babylon reached its magnificence
through the efforts of several succeeding
sovereigns. But Semiramis, the wife
of Ninus, is said to have been its founder.
In the year 538 B. C. it was taken by
Cyrus, king of Persia, who made it hh
winter residence. At this place, Alex-
ander, who had conquered Persia, died,
323 B. C.

The ruins of this wonderful city are
to be seen about forty-eight miles south
of the present city of Bagdat. Its pro-
digious walls have entirely disappeared,
and it is not easy to trace even the out-
line of this once mighty metropolis.
The remains consist of heaps of rubbish,
principally bricks. It does not appear
that the architecture of the Babylonians
had reached a high degree of refinement.
Its chief characteristic was colossal di-
mensions. The remains of the tempi?
of Belus are still to be distinguished, and
consist of a heap of ruins about one hun-
dred and twenty feet in height. This
complete destruction of Babylon, and the
desolation which presides over the scene,
is regarded as a terrific fulfilment of the
prophetic denunciations uttered against
it by the prophets.

The Leopard,

JHIS animal, a handsome, but fierce
member of the great family of cats, is
smaller than either the lion or the
tiger. Its skin is very beautiful, be-
ing spotted with large ocellated black
spots on a light ground, which sometimes
approaches to a bright yellow color.
The leopard is remarkably lithe and
flexible in all its motions. It is a very
symmetrical animal, and as its expres-
sion partakes as much of wildness as of
fierceness, it is among the handsomest
of its tribe. It preys upon small animals,
is frequently on the hunt, and probably
kills more creatures than do the tiger or
the lion. It is said to be found only in
the islands of the Oriental Archipelago,
and in the Eastern peninsula.

The leopard climbs trees with aston-
ishing rapidity, so that few animals are
safe from his ravages. Man alone seems
to be respected by him, but if pressed

hard in the pursuit by the hunter, it will
turn upon him, and much skill and
prowess is then necessary to guard
against the fury of his attacks.

Two men in Southern Africa fell in
with a leopard in a mountain ravine, and
immediately gave chase to him. The
animal at first endeavored to escape, by
clambering up a precipice, but being
hotly pressed, and slightly wounded by
a musket ball, he turned upon his pur-
suers with that frantic ferocity which he
frequently displays, and springing upon
the man who had fired upon him, tore
him from his horse to the ground, biting
him at the same time very severely on
the shoulder, and tearing his face and
arms with his claws. The other hunter,
seeing the danger of his comrade, sprung
from his horse, and attempted to shoot
the leopard through the head ; but, whe-
ther owing to trepidation, or the fear of

VOL. VII.

THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER.

wounding his friend, or the sudden mo-
tions of the animal, he unfortunately
missed his aim.

The leopard now, abandoning his pros-
trate enemy, darted with redoubled fury
on this second antagonist, and before the
poor man could stab him with his hunt-
ing knife, he struck him in the eyes with
his claws, and had torn the scalp over his
forehead. In this frightful condition,
the hunter grappled with the savage
beast, and, struggling for life, they both
rolled down a steep declivity. All this
passed so rapidly that the other man had
scarcely time to recover from the confu-
sion into which his feline foe had thrown
him, to seize his gun and rush forward
to aid his comrade, when he beheld them
rolling together down the steep bank, in
mortal combat.

In a few moments, he was at the bot-
tom with them, but too late to save the
life of his friend. The leopard had so
dreadfully torn the throat of the unfortu-
nate man that his death was inevitable
and he had only the satisfaction of com-
pleting the destruction of the savage

beast, which was already exhausted by
the wounds given in his breast by the
desperate knife of the expiring huntsman.
In a captive state, the leopard is easily
domesticated. There was a pair of these
animals recently in the tower of London.
The female was very tame and gentle,
and would allow herself to be patted and
caressed by the keepers, while she purred
and licked their hands. She had one
curious peculiarity ; she was very fond
of destroying parasols, umbrellas, muffr
and hats, which she frequently contrived
to lay hold of before the unwary specta-
tor could prevent it, and tore them to
pieces in an instant. While this crea-
ture was in a playful mood, she bounded
about her cell with the quickness of
thought, touching the four sides of it
nearly at one and the same instant. So
rapid were her motions that she could
scarcely be followed by the eye ; and she
would even skim about the ceiling of her
apartment with the same amazing ra-
pidity evincing great muscular powers
and wonderful pliability of form.

The Old Man in the Corner,

NO. III.

REMINISCENCES OF A RAG.
(Continued.)

HE shall now proceed to tell what ap-
peared to be written on the myste-
rious scroll handed forth by the
seeming ghost of the rag-bin.
"I remained for a long time in the
bale of cotton, shut out from the light of

heaven, and in a state of uncertainty as
to my condition or fate. At last I felt
the bale to be tumbled about, and finally
I conjectured that we were now on ship-
board. This proved to be correct ; for
in about a month we were landed at Liv-
erpool, a great city on the western coast
of England. In a few weeks we were
taken by canal through a beautiful coun-

THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER.

try, to Manchester, thirty-six miles east
of Liverpool.

" As we glided along, I could see that
the whole country was highly cultivated,
and almost covered with cities and villa-
ges. Hundreds of tall steepling chim-
neys rose from their places, and poured
forth volumes of smoke or flame, thus
showing that the people, on all hands,
were busy in their various manufactories.
Never did I imagine such scenes of
industry and activity.

" On arriving at Manchester, I was
amazed to see so great a city ; it con-
sisted, in part, of many buildings four and
five stories high, some of them having a
hundred windows ! It was night when
we arrived, and these buildings, which
were chiefly cotton factories, were all
lighted up. Never did I see such a dis-
play ; it seemed as if the whole city was
illuminated.

" Our bale was soon landed at one of
the factories, and we were stowed into a
ware-room, almost as big as a church.
Here were at least three hundred bales
of cotton, as big as ours. Thinks I to
myself, it will be a long time before it will
be our turn to be spun, and twisted, and
woven into cloth. In this, however, I
was mistaken, for, in about a month, I
found myself twitched out of the bale
and put into a machine, where I was
picked all to pieces. I was then put
into the carding machine, which made
me dance up and down and whirl about
and about with such velocity, and amid
such an everlasting hubbub, that I com-
pletely lost my senses. When I came
to myself, I vas made into a smooth
roll, about a yard long, and one end of
me was being twisted into thread . The

room where this took place, was as big
as a church, and several thousand spin-
dles were twirling about and twisting the
cotton into threads as fine as a hair. I
was fairly giddy with the operation, and
did not feel comfortable till I found my-
self wound snug and smooth upon a little
spool or bobbin.

" I was not permitted to remain long
in this state, for I was shortly placed
upon a loom with a multitude of other
spools, and was soon woven into a piece
of fine muslin. I now went through
various operations, and was finally done
up with the piece, consisting of twenty-
seven yards. I was despatched in a car,
with forty-nine other pieces, to London,
and in about a month we were shipped
to Brazil, in South America. Our case
was then purchased by an American
merchant : this was bought by a shop-
keeper of Rio de Janeiro, who soon
opened it and took out the piece I was
in and laid it upon a shelf. In a day or
two I was bought by a beautiful lady,
and made into a frock for her infant.

" It was a gay time now, for I was
dandled up and down and made a great
deal of. Everybody said, what a beauti-
ful baby ! and what a pretty frock ! But
sorrow soon followed. The lovely infant
died; it was laid in its coffin, and I
was its burial dress ! The corpse was
borne to the church with a long retinue
of priests, holding torches in their hands.
When they came to the church, they
sung a solemn dirge, and the dim arches
of the holy edifice seemed to echo back
the sad and wailing tones. The coffin
was deposited in its vault the music
ceased the throng dispersed, and a fear-
ful stillness reigned around. ' I could see

THE PYRAMIDS OF EGYPT.

and feel, even amid the darkness of my
prison house, how sweet was the placid
face of that lovely babe smiling in its
lonely, desolate grave ! I clung to its
bosom, and was happy, even though I
had no other hope than to perish, and
moulder, and be forgotten.

" A day passed, and midnight came.
A fearful stillness rested upon the church
and all around save that, perchance, the
wings of the bats might be heard, fanning
the dark recesses of the cathedral ; or
the drops of moisture that fell upon the
lids of the coffins, at long intervals, from
the arches of the tombs, caught the listen-
ing ear of silence. But at last the still-
ness was disturbed ; a light, sliding step
was heard upon the marble floor of the
church ; the door of the tomb where I
lay was opened, the lid of the coffin was
lifted, and the rays of a dark lantern
were turned upon the corpse of the babe.
I could see that it was the sexton who
thus invaded the sanctuary of the dead.
He first took a diamond from the bosom
of the infant, and then, disrobing the
body, carried me away. I was borne to
his house, where his wife soon took the
frock to pieces, and the long skirt was
now but a simple piece of muslin. It
was carefully ironed and sold to a pawn-
broker.

" I was soon purchased by a negro
girl, a slave, black and glittering as an-
thracite, who carried me home and made
me into a wedding turban. Three days
after I had been sleeping as a shroud in
the crypt of the church of St. Nicholas,
I was the head-dress of a bride, named
' Phillipina Squash ! ' "

[To be continued.]

The Pyramids of Egypt,

THESE gigantic monuments, erected be-
fore the period at which authentic
history begins, have ever excited the
curiosity and wonder of mankind.
Their vast antiquity, their amazing mag-
nitude, the mystery which hangs over
their origin and design, contribute to
render them objects of intense interest.

There are great numbers of these
structures in Egypt, and about eighty in
Nubia. Those of the former country
are all situated on the west side of the
Nile, and extend, in an irregular line,
to the distance of nearly seventy miles.
The most famous are those of Jizeh,
opposite the city of Cairo. The largest,
which is said to have been built by
Cheops, a king of Egypt, about 900 years
B. C., is by far the greatest structure in
stone that has been reared by the hand
of man. Near this great pyramid, are
two others, of considerable size, and sev-
eral smaller ones. All have square
foundations, and their sides face the
cardinal points. The largest pyramid
excited the wonder of Herodotus, who
visited Egypt 450 B. C. He says that
one hundred thousand men were em-
ployed twenty years in building it, and
that the body of Cheops was placed in a
room beneath the bottom of the pyramid.
The second pyramid is said to have been
built by Cephrenes, the brother of Che-
ops, and the third by Mycerines, the son
of Cheops.

The great pyramid consists of a series
of platforms, each of which is smaller
than the one on which it rests, and con-
sequently presents the appearance of
steps. Of these steps there are two hun-

THE PYRAMIDS OF EGYPT.

dred and three. They are of unequal
thickness, from two feet and eight inches,
to four feet and eight inches. The stones
are cut and fitted to each other with great
nicety. The whole height is four hun-

dred and fifty-six feet. The top is a
platform, thirty-two feet square. The
foundation is seven hundred and sixty-
three feet on each side, and covers a
space of about thirteen acres.

The pyramid has been entered, and
has been found to consist of chambers
and passages, some of great extent.

The material of which the pyramids
are built is limestone, and it is probable
that this was obtained from limestone
quarries contiguous to the place where
they now stand. The stones of the
great pyramid rarely exceed nine feet in
length, six and a half in breadth, and
four feet eight inches in thickness.
The ascent is attended with great diffi-
culty and danger, on account of the
broken state of the steps ; yet it is fre-
quently accomplished, and sometimes
by females. The scene from the top is

described by travellers as inconceivably
grand.

The purpose for which these monu-
ments were reared, has been a question
of great interest. It has been conjectured
that they were built as observatories, but
this seems to be an absurd supposition ;
for why build three or four close together
of nearly the same elevation ? There is
no good reason to doubt that they were
erected as burial places for the Egyptian
kings, who caused them to be constructed.
The natural pride of man, the desire of
being remembered for ages, and probably
some superstitious notions connected
with the religion of the country, doubt-

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

less furnished the motives for the con-
struction of these vast monuments.
Nothing can better show the folly of
human ambition, than that, while these

senseless stones remain, their builders
have perished, and their memories been
blotted out forever.

Pictures of Various Nations,

CHAPTER III.

The Indians.

IN a former number we have given some
account of the northern Indians, called
Esquimaux ; and as our readers may
like to know how these people look,
we give a likeness of one of them. He

would hardly be thought a beauty among
us, but no doubt he would find some one
to fancy him among the girls of his tribe,
who live on fish and blubber oil.

All our readers know that when
America was discovered, it was inhabited
by tribes of copper-colored people, whom
we generally call Indians. These were

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

divided into many tribes, and spoke many
different languages, but they bore a gen-
eral resemblance, which led to the con-
clusion that this remarkable race came
originally from Asia, and had a near
affinity to the roving, warlike tribes
there, called Tartars.

The American Indians, at the time of
the discovery of Columbus, might be
viewed in four groups : 1st. The Mexi-
cans, who had built cities, established a
permanent government, carried on manu-
factures and commerce, and cultivated
the earth with care and success ; 2d. The
Peruvians, who had made nearly the
same advances in civilization as the
Mexicans, though differing in many of
their arts, manners, customs, and opin-
ions ; 3d. The Caribs, a warlike nation,
inhabiting the Caribbean isles and the
adjacent coast of South America ; and,
4th. The various scattered tribes of the
continent.

We shall not enter into a minute
account of these several groups, for so
much has been said of the Indians, that
almost all persons are pretty well ac-
quainted with the subject. Among the
chief tribes of New England, when our
forefathers settled there, were the Pe-
quots, Narragansets and Mohegans. In
New York, are the Mohawks, Senecas,
Oneidas, Delawares and Ottoes. In the
south and west, there are many other
bands or nations.

These tribes, of which there were per-
haps several hundred in North America,
varied in number from two hundred to
five thousand inhabitants each. They
all lived -chiefly by hunting and fishing,
raising a. few pumpkins and melons, and
a little corn, to aid in obtaining a subsist-

ence. They knew not the use of iron
or other metals for cutting ; they had no
domestic fowls or animals, except, per-
haps, dogs far to the north ; they lived a
wandering life, having no better houses
than huts of wood and mud.

Their weapons of war were hatchets
of stone, bows and arrows ; their fish-
hooks were the bones of fishes. They
had no tables or chairs; no religious
edifices, and but few religious notions.
The men spent their time in hunting
and the chase, and the women performed
all the drudgery.

In war, these savages were cunning,
deceitful and cruel : they could track
their enemy through the forest by the
traces left upon the grass and leaves;
they would lurk in the thickets for days,
and then suddenly and unexpectedly
burst upon their victims. The warriors
taken in battle, were often tortured and
put to death but these disdained to show
the slightest emotion, even though knots
of pine were stuck in their flesh and set
on fire !

At first, these Indians received our
forefathers with kindness, but, exaspera-
ted by various acts of injustice and cru-
elty, they became treacherous and vindic-
tive. Many bloody encounters took place
between the settlers and the savages, in
all of which the latter suffered defeat and
loss, until they became extinct along the
Atlantic border, and the remains of their
tribes only continue to linger along our
western frontier.

The natives that dwelt in the West
Indies, some of which were very numer-
ous, have entirely disappeared. Mexico
was conquered by Cortez more than three
hundred years ago, and the whole Indian

A MONSTER OF THE DEEP.

race, amounting to six or eight millions,
belonging to that nation, were subjugated.
The Indians of Mexico now acknowledge
the authority of the established govern-
ment, pay taxes, and generally belong to
the Catholic religion. They are still an
ignorant and half barbarous race.

The Peruvian nation, also amounting
to millions, was conquered by Pizarro
about the year 1535, and from that period
the natives became subject to the laws
of the white man. These, as in Mexico,
are partially civilized.

There are still many South American
tribes, which are independent, and main-
tain their savage habits. The Arau-
canians, a Chilian tribe, the noblest race
of aboriginal Americans, have never been
fairly subdued, and though partly civil-
ized, they maintain a lofty spirit of
independence. Far south, toward the
extremity of South America, the broad-
shouldered Patagonians live in savage
wildness, and around the rocky and tem-
pestuous shores of Cape Horn, the naked,
shivering Fuegians snatch from the ra-
ging elements a precarious subsistence.

At the present day there are several
tribes inhabiting the vast regions that lie
west of the Mississippi, consisting, for the
most part, of fragments of tribes driven
by the white man from more eastern
settlements, to their present abodes.
Here they are still lords of the forest,
prairie, river and mountain, and here
they maintain their wild independence
and savage customs. They have become
in some degree changed by intercourse
with the white race ; they have horses,
and fire-arms and blankets, and a few
utensils derived from civilized man ; but
they are still hunters and warriors, are

still without books, or a settled govern-
ment, or fixed habitations, or extended
agriculture, or any of the leading features
of civilization. In another number we
propose to tell something about the In-
dians as they now are.

A Monster of the Deep,

UR readers know that in some parts
of the ocean there are enormous sea
animals called Sepia, which are a
kind of polypi. They have very
long legs, and are said sometimes to
seize upon the coral divers along the
coast of Italy. Mr. Beale tells us the
following adventure with a creature of
this sort.

"While upon the Bouin Islands,
searching for shells on the rocks, which
had just been left by the receding tide, I
was much astonished at seeing at my
feet a most extraordinary looking ani-
mal, crawling towards the retreating
surf. I had never seen one like it
before. It was creeping on its eight
legs, which, from their soft and flexible
nature, bent considerably under the
weight of its body, so that it was lifted
by the efforts of its tentacula only a
small distance from the rocks.

" It appeared much alarmed on seeing
me, and made every effort to escape,
while I was not much in the humor to
endeavor to capture so ugly a customer,
whose appearance excited a feeling of
disgust, not unmixed with fear. I, how-
ever, endeavored to prevent its career, by
pressing on one of its legs with my foot ;
but, although I used considerable force
for that purpose, its strength was so great

THE SPERM WHALE.

that it several times quickly liberated its
member, in spite of all the efforts I could
employ in this way, on wet, slippery
rocks. I now laid hold of one of the
tentacles with my hand, and held it
firmly, so that the limb appeared as if it
would be torn asunder by our united
strength. I soon gave it a powerful
jerk, wishing to disengage it from the
rocks to which it clung so forcibly by its
suckers, which it effectually resisted;
but the moment after, the apparently
enraged animal lifted its head, with its
large eyes projecting from the middle of
its body, and, letting go its hold of the
rocks, suddenly sprang upon my arm,
which I had previously bared to my
shoulder for the purpose of thrusting it
into holes in the rocks to discover shells,
and clung, with its suckers, to it with
great power, endeavoring to get its beak,
which I could now see, between the
roots of its arms, in a position to bite.
\ " A sensation of horror pervaded my
irthole frame, when I found this mon-
stious animal for it was about four feet
lorg fixed so firmly on my arm. Its
coll, slimy grasp was extremely sicken-
ingi and I immediately called aloud to
the captain, who was also searching for
shells at some distance, to come and
releaie me from my disgusting assailant.
He quickly arrived, and taking me down
to the boat, during which time I was
employed in keeping the beak away
from mj hand, quickly released me by
destroying my tormentor with the boat
knife, when I disengaged it by portions
at a time. This animal was that species
of Sepia which is called by whalers
1 rock squid.' Thus are these remarka-
ble creatures, from the different adapta.-

tion of their tentacles and slight modifi-
cations of their bodies, capable of sail-
ing, flying, swimming, and creeping on
the shore, while their senses, if we may
judge from the elaborate mechanism of
their organs, must possess corresponding
acuteness and perfection."

The Sperm Whale.

THE Sperm Whale is much less known
than the common whale, which is
usually taken by our whalers. The-
following account of it, furnished by
Thomas Beale, is interesting.

" The sperm whale is a gregarious
animal, and the herds formed by it are
of two kinds the one consisting of
females, the other of young whales not
fully grown.

" These herds are called by whalers,
'schools,' and occasionally consist of
great numbers ; I have seen in one
school as many as five or six hundred.
With each herd or school of females,
are always from one to three large bulls,
the lords of the herd, or, as they are
called, the ' school-masters.' The full-
grown whales, or ' large whales,' almost
always go alone in search of food ; and
when they are seen in company, they
are supposed to be making passages,
or migrating from one * feeding ground '
to another. The large whale is gen-
erally very incautious, and if alone, he
is without difficulty attacked, and by
expert whalers generally very easily
killed ; as frequently, after receiving the
first blow or plunge of the harpoon, he
appears hardly to feel it, but continues

THE COTTAGER TO HER INFANT.

lying like a ' log of wood ' in the water,
before he rallies or makes any attempt
to escape from his enemies.

" Large whales are, however, some-
times, hut rarely, met with, remarkahly
cunning and full of courage, when they
will commit dreadful havoc with their
jaws and tail ; the jaw and head, how-
ever, appear to be their principal offen-
sive weapons.

" The female breeds at all seasons, pro-
ducing but one at a time. The young
when first born are said to be fourteen
feet long. The females are much smaller
than the males. They are very remark-
able for their attachment to their young,
which they may be frequently seen
urging and assisting to escape from dan-
ger with the most unceasing care and
fondness. They are also not less re-
markable for their strong feeling of
sociality, or attachment to one another ;
and this is carried to so great an extent,
that when one female of a herd is
attacked or wounded, her faithful com-
panions will remain around her to the
last moment, or till they are wounded
themselves. This act of remaining by
a wounded companion, is called ' heaving
to,' and whole * schools ' have been
destroyed by dexterous management,
when several ships have been in com-
pany, wholly from their possessing this
remarkable disposition. The attach-
ment appears to be reciprocal on the part
of the young whales, which have been
seen about the ship for hours after their
parents have been killed.

" The young whales, or ' young bulls,'
go in large schools, but differ remarkably
from the females in disposition, inas-

much as they make an immediate and
rapid retreat upon one of their number
being struck, who is left to take the
best care he can of himself. I never
but once saw them ' heave to,' and in
that case, it was only for a short time,
and seemed rather to arise from their con-
fusion than affection for their wounded
companion. They are also very cun-
ning and cautious, keeping at all times
a good look-out for danger. It is conse-
quently necessary for the whaler to be
extremely cautious in his mode of
approaching them, so as, if possible, to
escape being heard or seen, for they
have some mode of communication with
one another in an incredibly short space
of time ; the distance between them
sometimes amounting to five, or even
seven miles. The mode by which this
is effected remains a curious secret."

THE COTTAGER TO HER INFANT.

THE days are cold, the nights are long,
The north wind sings a doleful song ;
Then hush again upon my breast ;
All merry things are now at rest,

Save thee, my pretty babe !

The kitten sleeps upon the hearth,
The crickets long have ceased their mirth ;
There 's nothing stirring in the house,
Save one wee, hungry, nibbling mouse j
Then why so busy thou ?

Nay ! start not at that sparkling light,
'T is but the moon that shines so bright
On the window pane bedropped with rain j
Then, little darling ! sleep again,

And wake when it is day.

SQUIRRELS.

Squirrels,

[For Merry's Museum. 1

I HE Chip Squirrel or Ground Squirrel
is the most common and familiar of
all the squirrels. " He is most com-
monly," says Godman, " seen scud-
ding along the lower rails of the com-
mon or 'Virginia' fences, which afford
him at once a pleasant and secure path,
as, in a few turns, he finds a safe hiding
place behind the projecting angles, or
enters his burrow undiscovered. When
no fence is near, or his retreat is cut off,
after having been out in search of food,
he becomes exceedingly alarmed, and
runs up the nearest tree, uttering a very
shrill cry or whistle, indicative of his
distress ; and it is in this situation that he
is most frequently made captive by his
persecuting enemies, the mischievous
school-boys." I shall presently mention
a much better mode of treatment of them
by children, than the one here alluded
to, and which is far too common.

He is not only the most numerous, but
the most beautiful of all the squirrels I
have named. His general color (if it
is necessary to describe an animal so

well known) is a reddish brown, but he
has five black stripes running lengthwise
along his body, one in the middle of the
back, and two on each side, and between
the two on each side is a stripe of pure
white. These stripes, together with
white stripes on each side of his head,
above and below the eyes, give him a
very beautiful appearance, and it is no
wonder that children, who are commonly
pleased with what is beautiful in nature,
take a strong liking to him. He is
sometimes called the Striped Squirrel,
on account of his markings, but he is
more commonly called the Chip Squirrel,
or Chipmuck, from the chipping sound
he is accustomed to make, or the Ground
Squirrel, because he makes a burrow in
the ground for his lodging-place instead
of residing in a tree, as the other squir-
rels do. Mr. Godman says he is some-
times called Hacky ; but why so called, I
am unable to tell. I have mentioned
his being a familiar animal ; I will now
state a circumstance, to show how
familiar he may be made, and how far

SQUIRRELS.

kind and gentle treatment operates to
deprive wild animals of their fears.
One, which had a hole not far from my
house, used frequently to come about
the house for food, which my children
observing, would throw walnuts or
hickory nuts to him. He soon became
so gentle he would take the walnuts
from their hands, and, after biting off the
sharp and jagged ends of the nuts, he
would stow them in his capacious cheeks
or pouches, sometimes taking from their
hands and stowing away in this manner
four hickory nuts, two in each pouch,
which he would carry off and deposit in
his hole, and then immediately return
for another cheekful.

The Flying Squirrel is the smallest of
all the squirrels in New England, and
in some respects the most interesting.
He is not as well known as the other
three kinds I have described, principally
on account of his nocturnal habits ; that
is, he generally sleeps during the day,
and is in motion during the night.
He is not so beautiful in his colors and
markings as the chip squirrel. His
general color is a brownish ash or gray
on the upper part of the body, and white
underneath, with a yellowish margin
which unites with a dark stripe that
borders the gray color of the upper
parts. His form and attitudes are beau-
tiful, however; his hair very soft and
silky, and his eyes, which are black, are
large and prominent. But what makes
him the greatest object of curiosity, is,
that the skin on each side of his body is
dilated and attached to both his legs,
nearly or quite down to the claws, so
that when he extends his legs horizon-
tally it forms a kind of wings or para-

chute, by which he is enabled to sail
obliquely through the air a considerable
distance. He cannot, however, rise, as
he never flaps his wings ; but by taking
a leap from the top of a tree and spread-
ing his sails, he reaches the body of
another tree several rods distant, and
running to the top of the latter, he again
makes a similar flight, and in this way
passes rapidly through the forest. His
tail is flattened horizontally, and doubt-
less answers the purpose of a rudder.

His food is similar to that of the other
squirrels, consisting of nuts, grain, Sec.
They make their abode in hollow trees,
from which they will frequently run out,
when the tree is struck with an axe and
smartly jarred, to see what is the matter.

They frequently enter human dwell-
ings. Last winter I caught, in suc-
cession, seven, in the upper chamber of
my house, and kept six of them shut up
till spring, when I carried them to the
woods near by and released them. They
also became pretty familiar, and would
eat and gambol in my presence and that
of my family in their box. In the
course of last summer, I again saw one
in my house, probably one of the same.
Three other instances have come to my
knowledge in which they were found in
dwelling-houses.

In the animals we have been consid-
ering, we see an interesting specimen of
that wonderful variety and beauty which
constitute the charm of the great world
of life. The study and contemplation
of the works of God, animate and inani-
mate, will be attended with continued
and increasing admiration, and if the
mind is properly attuned to the harmo-
nies that pervade them, it will be made

OUR CORRESPONDENCE.

better and better, and will be led, in the
words of the poet, "from nature up to
nature's God." SCIURUS.

Our Correspondence,

WE have received the kind New Year's
greeting of R. B. Jr., for which we offer a
return of our best wishes. We have also the
pleasant letter of P. L. H., and that of E. D.
H. His answer Constantinople to the puzzle,
is right. We have also received the communi-
cations of D. A. B k. Our little friend, a
" reader of the Museum" at Pulaski, will see
that we have hardly got room for his thoughts
on "Liberty." His sentiments, however, are
very just. The puzzle from Goshen, though a
good one, must be omitted. We must say the
same of the geographical enigma from a place
without a name. The complimentary note of
Charles A. H y is received, and his answer to
the puzzle is right. The "young subscriber
from New Hampshire " will see that we have
not space for his pleasant enigma.

We insert the following letter with pleasure.
In regard to the word "Corvpig," as used by
Mrs. Trudge, we venture to suggest that she
meant Cupid ; but, as we would not be too con-
fident on this point, we propose to ask her what
she did mean, when we next see her.

Sandwich, January 8th, 1844.
DEAR MR. MERRY :

I wish you a happy new year. I think I
have found out the answer to the puzzle in the
January number, which is Constantinople. As
I am not much of a poetess, I cannot put it in
the form of an acrostic or rhyme, and I hope a
plain answer will do. It is the first one I have
ever found out, but I think it is because I have
not had patience enough, for I found it very
easy. I am glad you are going to have some
good long stories, equal to the Siberian Sable-
hunter, in this year's Museum. I feel much
interested in the story of Bridget Trudge. I
laughed well at the red bonnet and yallar silk
gown, and fan with Wenus on one side, and
Cowpig on the other. But none of us can tell

what Cowpig means. Please explain it in the
next chapter about them.

P. S. My sister Lottie is very disappointed
at not finding any " Little Leaves."

E. P. C.

The letters of R. P. H., E. B. P., and James
P., will appear in the next number.

WE insert the following with pleasure, whick
the writer tells us is a true picture of a deer
home. It makes our old heart glad to find tha*.
we are welcome, even among the mountains.

A WINTER EVENING IN THE COUNTRY.

Away among the mountains a pleasant farm

house lies,
And round its fireside gather sweet faces and

bright eyes ;
The blazing fire of maple-wood lights up thr

spacious room,
And branches of the fragrant birch give out a

sweet perfume.

And we are happy 'midst these hills our child-
hood has been past,

And beautiful they seem to us, with forests old
and vast ;

The summer and the autumn bring golden
fruits and flowers,

But dearer than the summer days are pleasant
winter hours.

The happy winter evenings, we love their

social mirth,
For many pleasant tales are told beside our

lighted hearth ;
A welcome face sometimes looks in upon our

circle here,
And brings to us the happiest hour in all the

glad New Year.

It is an old man's face, with clustering gray
hair,

And a wrinkled forehead wearing, though fur-
rowed not by care ;

Old Robert Merry, with his smiles, his tales of
other climes,

His Museum of curious things, new stories and
old rhymes.

We knew him by another name in years that

are gone by,
And loved good Peter Parley with his kind

brow and eye ;

OUR CORRESPONDENCE.

Each month unto our mountain home, came

" Parley's Magazine,"
'Till " Merry's Museum " took the place where

it so long had been.

We love our guest far better because our own

young hands
Have labored for the pleasure he brings from

other lands ;
When autumn leaves fell round us, the autumn

nuts grew brown,
We and the squirrels gathered them as they

came rattling down.

0, merry was our harvest time we made the

woods ring out,
Through all the long, bright autumn day, with

our gay, careless shout ;
And then we sold our nuts, and thus have the

pleasure still,
Of seeing Robert Merry in our home upon the

hill.

M. T. B.
Lowell, Jan. 4.

THE LITTLE SOLDIER.

WE insert the following, with thanks to the
writer, and should be glad to receive the
remainder of the story :

MR. MERRY :

I am one of your " blue-eyed friends," and
although not a " little " one, I have been much
interested in the articles which have appeared
in the Museum, connected with the war of our
Revolution.

I know many of the warm advocates for
peace, query how far it is judicious to interest
the minds of the rising generation, in the details
of war ; still, I must believe that many of the
blessings we enjoy, peculiar to our own coun-
try, were purchased by the self-sacrifices of
our fathers, and their " children's children,"
should not overlook this fact.

It has occurred to me that a little sketch of
one who took an active part in the scenes of
those eventful days, may perhaps amuse your
readers. The old soldier from whom I have
my history, enlisted into the army at the age
of fifteen, as a fifer. He was much below the
common size of boys at that age, and, for this
reason, chose to be a musician. He heard the
sound of the guns on the morning of the Lex-
ington battle, and soon after this event, he was
ordered, with the company to which he belonged,
to New York. His good mother furnished him
with all that a kind, pious mother could think

of, for his comfort, even to a ball of yarn and a
needle, to repair his stockings. He returned
them to her, after his service in the army,
"safe and sound."

Soon after their arrival in New York, the
alarm was given that the enemy were approach-
ing ; and not doubting a skirmish, at least, a
company of men volunteered to go out and meet
the enemy. They were ordered to be in am-
bush, and then rise suddenlv upon the foe.
The little fifer fa mere boy) joined the party,
and soon found himself in the heat of battle.
He has often told me that he felt no sensation
of fear at the lime ; the dense smoke, the
roaring of the cannon, the groans and shrieks
of the dying, were alike unheeded by him.
His only wish was to load aim tire, and kill
one of the British. He always thought he
accomplished his object, and God seems to have
awarded a quick retribution.

Just as he had fired, his party were ordered
to retreat, and, in turning to obey the orders,
the poor fellow received a ball in the back,
which lodged near the spine. He thought it
must be his death-wound, and after moving on
a few rods, he left his comrades, and concealing
himself behind a small white oak tree, he set
up his gun, and falling on his knees, he com-
mitted his soul to the Saviour. His eye-sight
and hearing left him ; he was bleeding pro-
fusely, and of course believed this to be his last
hour on earth.

How long he was in this state he could not
tell, but hoping his strength would permit, as
soon as he could see and hear, he crawled on
his hands and knees into the road, and soon
met the surgeon, who, with the vehicle for the
wounded soldiers, was on his way to the place
where the skirmish was fought. The hospital
was a mile distant, and the lad chose to
remain where he was, until the cart came back.
He was placed in it, and, in the course of a day
or two after his wound had been given, the sur
geon attempted to extract the ball, but it could
not be done without causing instant death.

He remained in the hospital eight or ten
weeks, slowly recovering his strength. He was
two hundred miles from home ; poor, feeble,
and in this sad condition, he resolved to attempt
a journey home on foot. A young man, who
was his intimate friend and fellow -townsman,
agreed to be his guide and protector, and they
started on their melancholy journey.

If the sketch, thus far, has awakened any
interest, the writer will cheerfully communicate
some touching incidents connected with the
" soldier's return home." What is your opinion,
Mr. Merry?

A SOLDIER'S DAUGHTER.

Evening,

WORDS AND MUSIC COMPOSED FOR MERRY'S MUSEUM; THE LATTER BY GEO. J. WEBB.

How sweet when the daylight In summer is flown, And the

Allegretto.

soft veil of evening Is thrown o'er the scene, 'Mid dewdrops and fragrance To

. s> ,s 1 IZZTTT i^~ 1^" ^ i^" ^

~-js4- i i -H^-JI G3~i H d^_"

I~X~ . i~

wander a - - lone, As free as the fai - ries That dance on the green.

-I^'

T^l C "^,-j"^ 1 !^!! 1 ] ft _, ^

99 ^-99-1-^-99

How changed is each scene !
Though familiar it be,
Now strange and fantastic
It comes to the eye,
E'en the sigh of the zephyr,
That rustles the tree,
Seems the whisper of spirits
That stoop from the sky.

The stars, that shrunk back
All abashed from the gaze,
When the sun in his glory
Shone down from above,

Now timid and tender
Melt the soul with their rays,
And woo it to Heaven
On pinions of love.

Sweet Evening how fair
Are thy charms to the heart,
And how blest thus to wander
Withthee all alone!
Yet dearer far dearer,
Blest Evening, thou art,
When I praise thee to Mary,
And call her my own '

MERRY'S MUSEUM,

Vol. VII.

APRIL, 1844,

No. 4.

JrniL has stolen in upon us, and de-
ll serves a welcome at our hands. In
1 II our New England climate it is not
il g so gentle as in some other lands.
It brings us no flowers, but still,
the blue-bird and the robin visit us, and
tell us of a thousand pleasant things that
May and June will bring with them.
This month has been thus described by
a lively and pleasant writer.

" April," says the author of the "Mir-
ror of the Months," "is Spring the only
spring month that we possess at once
the most juvenile of all the months and
the most feminine, never knowing her
own mind for a day together. Fickle as

VOL. VII. 7

a fond maiden with her first lover, toy-
ing it with the young sun, till he with-
draws his beams from her, and then
weeping till she gets them back again.
April is doubtless the sweetest month of
all the year ; partly because it ushers in
the May, and partly for its own sake. It
is to the confirmed summer, what the
previous hope of joy is to the full fruition ;
what the boyish dream of love is to love
itself. It is indeed the month of prom-
ises ; and what are twenty performances
compared with one promise ? April, then,
is worth two Mays, because it tells of
May in every sigh that it breathes, and
every tear that it lets fall. It is the bar-

DICK BOLDHERO.

binger, the herald, the promise, the fore-
taste of all the beauties that are to fol-
low it ;

Dick Boldhero,

CHAPTER III.

Adventures in South America, continued.

s evening approached, I
found myself quite fa-
tigued, and my feet almost
blistered from the heat of
the ground. I was there-
-^ fore very glad to see a
coffee plantation lying to the right, and
about a mile distant. Thither I went,
and applied to some of the negroes for a
night's lodging, but found, however, that
not one of them could speak a word of
English, Dutch being the only lan-
guage with which they were acquainted.
Several of them got round me, chattering
like so many magpies.

Finding it impossible to make them
understand by words, I resorted to signs.
I suppose I must have been a pretty good
mimic, for they seemed to understand me
at once, and burst into the most uproar-
ous fits of laughter. They finally con-
cluded to take me to their master, whom
I found to be a great stout man, with a
swarthy complexion, and a farmer-like
appearance ; but he, being a Dutchman,
could speak no English. The negroes,
however, interpreted my wishes, and the
planter gave immediate directions to have
me taken good care of. I was accord-
ingly carried off in triumph by my sable
friends, who treated me as well as if I
,had been an emperor.

I never saw such a merry, kind-

hearted set of fellows. They got some
water, and one of them washed my sore
feet; another brought me a bowl of milk,
and a third spread my bed. After I had
rested for half an hour, I was called to
supper, and took my meal with the
planter and his family. They were all
very kind and polite. There was one
black-eyed girl, the planter's daughter,
as I supposed, whom I thought very
handsome, but very different from our
New England girls. Her complexion
was extremely dark ; her hair black as
jet, her skin being quite of an olive
color. When her features were at rest,
her countenance was pensive, almost
sad ; but the moment she spoke, there
was a flash of cheerfulness over her
whole countenance. I stole several
glances at her, but being only a poor
sailor, I deemed this a kind of theft, and
tried hard not to be detected. I noticed,
however, that the maiden caught me
looking at her several times. I expected
she would be angry, but this was far
from being the case.

The habitation of the planter was
very different from a snug New Eng-
land dwelling. In this delicious cli-
mate there is a perpetual summer; no
frost, no snow, no blustering Boreas
ever comes to chill the inhabitants, to
destroy the vegetation, or interrupt the
genial course of nature. Little is needed
for the comfort of the inhabitants, in re-
spect to a dwelling, but a mere shelter.
The planter's residence consisted of
three or four distinct buildings, of irreg-
ular shape and arrangement. One was
of brick, and covered with tiles ; the
rest were of wood, and had more the
appearance of cattle sheds than human

DICK BOLDHERO.

dwellings. There were no chimneys,
and the windows consisted of openings
without glass.

When it came night, I was put into one
of these buildings. We ascended to a
second loft by a ladder, and I laid down
upon a bed which consisted of straw.
Feeling very weary, I soon fell asleep.
I continued in a sound repose for several
hours, when, at last, I awoke suddenly.
It seemed as if I hatl heard some one

whispering to me, and in a sort of
dream, I fancied that it was the black-
eyed daughter of the planter. But when
I was fully awake, and rose up in my
bed, my amazement at what I beheld
was indescribable.

The moon was shining very brightly,
and lighted the large barn-like apartment
in such a manner, that I could see almost
every object with distinctness. Above
me, amid the dusky shadows of the

room, I beheld a creature of the most
extraordinary aspect. It seemed to have
the head of a rhinoceros, with most enor-
mous ears, the body of a bird, and the legs
of an alligator. It had immense wings,
shaped like those of a bat. To my ex-
cited imagination, the creature seemed
as big as an ox; and as I gazed upon it,
it seemed to wave its prodigious wings,
and grin at me with a sneering and ma-
licious expression.

My first idea was, that it was a mere
night-mare ; but when I recollected that

I was in a strange country, and moreover
remembered the adventure of the alliga-
tor, which had so recently occurred, I
began to conceive that it must be a
reality. There is no harm, at least,
thought I, in being prepared for the
worst. Accordingly, I reached out my
hand, and seized my cudgel. I then
laid down upon my bed, and keeping
my eye fixed upon the grisly appari-
tion, held myself ready for what might
happen. I kept myself perfectly still,
and at last the creature spread its wings

100

DICK BOLDHEBO.

and began to make a circuit through the
upper regions of the apartment.

Round and round he went, upon a
noiseless wing, and at last began to
make a dip at me. Never shall I forget
the sensations of that horrible moment !
The very uncertainty, whether it was a
reality, or some grisly phantom of the
brain, seemed to increase my agitation.
Could I have been sure that it was a
thing of flesh and blood, I should have
been ready to give it battle. But the
doubt, whether it was a being of this
world or another, seemed to freeze my
blood. I grasped my cudgel, but my
arm was paralyzed.

Thus I lay for several moments, while
the spectre wheeled round and round,
it every evolution, stooping lower and
lower, as he came near the place where
I lay. At last he paused in his flight,
and hovered over the foot of my bed.
I could distinctly feel his claws upon
my feet, as well as the fanning of
his wings, which were kept constantly
in motion. The sensation restored my
reason and my strength. I partially
arose in my bed, and struck a furious
blow with my cane at the monster. It
took effect, and it fell lifeless to the
floor. What was my surprise, on going
to the spot where the creature lay, to
discover that what my excited fancy
had exaggerated to the seeming dimen-
sions of a winged ox, was, in fact, not
bigger than a crow! It was one of
the huge bats common to Guiana, and
known by the name of the Vampire.
It had no doubt come to see how a little
blood drawn out of a Yankee boy's great
toe would taste. But the fellow was mis-
taken in his customer.

I now laid myself down upon my bed
but it was in vain that I attempted to
sleep. I lay for several hours, and find-
ing it impossible to repose, I went to the
window and looked forth upon the scene.
The moon was shining with wonderful
brightness, and from the eminence on
which the plantation stood, I had a dis-
tinct view of the surrounding country.
The river Surinam shone like silver in
the distance, the air was filled with spicy
fragrance, and a kind of dazzling light
or silvery mist seemed to be diffused
throughout the whole space beneath the
sky. The whole aspect of nature and
the objects around me was strange, yet
lovely. There was a balmy softness in
the atmosphere, a kind of twilight splen-
dor over the face of nature, which excited
my admiration, and, at the same time,
gave me a sort of pensive and lonely
feeling, at the idea that I was far, very
far, from my home.

I remained at the window looking out
at the scene for some time. At last the
morning came, and before the sun had
risen, I went forth into the fields. An
immense extent of ground, belonging to
the plantation, was covered with coffee
trees. These were about ten feet in
height, planted in rows at the distance
of about ten feet from each other. They
somewhat resemble the peach tree ; but
the leaves are longer, narrower, and
highly varnished. These trees, or rather
shrubs, are evergreens, and produce fruit
when they are about four years old.
They live to a great age sometimes a
hundred years. They were now cov-
ered with large branches of while blos-
soms, which gave forth ^ a sweet odor.
The coffee berry grows in a kind of

DOCTOR CHANNING.

101

fruit, which is red when ripe, and has
a very beautiful appearance upon the
trees.

After looking about the grounds for a
short time, I was returning to the house,
when I met the black-eyed daughter of
the planter. She bade me good morning,
in English, and, to my joy and surprise, 1
found that she knew a few words of that
language. We tried to enter into con-
versation, but without much success.
She asked me my name ; and when I
told her it was Dick Boldhero, she mani-
fested much surprise and interest. She
spoke with great earnestness, and seemed
to have an intense desire to know some-
thing more. At last, I saw the tears
come down her cheeks, and I felt an
emotion which I cannot describe. After
a time, we separated, and having taken
breakfast, I bade adieu to the plantation,
and set forward upon my journey.

(To be continued.]

William Ellery Charming,*

R. CHANNING was born at Newport,
Rhode Island, April 7th, 17SO. His
father, William Channing, Esq., an
eminent lawyer of Newport, died in
the midst of his vigor, and at the height
of his professional success, when his son
William was in his fourteenth year. His
mother, was a daughter of William El-
lery, one of the signers of the Declara-

* The substance of the following memoir, is
extracted from an address delivered at the fu-
neral of Dr. Channing, by his colleague, the
Rev. Ezra S. Gannett.

tion of Independence. She died in Bos-
ton, in 1834. His father's character
doubtless exerted an influence in form-
ing the mind of his son, but the nearer
intimacy, which, in the long period
through which his mother remained the
sole possessor of his filial regard, gave
her a peculiar power over him.

Dr. Channing is said to have been re-
marked in early youth as singularly pure-
minded, devout, earnest, and aspiring
leaving his friends to anticipate from him
great excellence and eminence of charac-
ter. He graduated at Cambridge, Mass.,
in 1798, bearing with him the highest
honors of the institution, and having dis-
tinguished himself for habits of diligence,
and for blamelessness of conduct. He
now accepted an invitation to reside a
year with a gentleman of Virginia, as
the instructor of his children. Here he
doubtless laid the foundation of that
feebleness of constitution which attended
him through life. Here, also, he proba-
bly adopted the resolution to devote him-
self to the ministry. He pursued his
professional studies, partly with his
uncle, Rev. Henry Channing, of New
London, Connecticut, and partly at Cam-
bridge.

Mr. Channing received an invitation
to settle over the Church and Society in
Brattle Square, at the same time that he
received one from the Federal Street
Church. He chose to accept the latter;
his preference being determined " partly
by considerations of health, and partly by
diffidence ;" his humility producing a dis-
trust of his own fitness for the office of a
Christian minister, that for a time was
painfully oppressive, and finally led him,
in connection with his health, to choose

102

DOCTOR CHANNING.

the less conspicuous and important of the
situations offered him.

His ordination took place on the 1st
of June, 1803. An old copy of the
Columlian Centinel contains the follow-
ng notice : " Ordination. Yesterday

was ordained to the pastoral care of the
Church in Federal Street, the Rev. Wm.
Ellery Channing. The Rev. Mr. Holmes
introduced the solemnity by prayer. Pro-
fessor Tappan delivered the sermon
from Eph. iii. 8, 9; the Rev. Df. Os-

DOCTOR CHANNING.

103

good made the ordaining prayer ; the
Rev. Henry Channing gave the charge ;
the Rev. Mr. Tuckerman expressed the
fellowship of the Church ; and the Rev.
Dr. Eckley made the concluding prayer.
The ceremonial was conducted, and the
services performed, with a solemnity
and fervor suited to the occasion."

Mr. Chanuing was appointed Dexter
Lecturer on Biblical Criticism in Har-
vard University, in 1812, but his health
did not allow him to prepare a course of
lectures, and he resigned the appoint-
ment the next year. In 1813 he was
elected a member of the Corporation, at
which board he retained a seat till 1826.
The University conferred on him the
honorary degree of D. D. in 1820.

Dr. Channing first appeared as a con-
troversial writer in 1815, when he ad-
dressed his letter to Rev. S. C. Thatcher,
" on the aspersions contained in a late
number of the Panoplist, of the minis-
ters of Boston and the vicinity." This
led to a public correspondence between
him and the Rev. Dr. Worcester, of
Salem. In 1819 he preached the ser-
mon at the ordination of Mr. Sparks, at
Baltimore, which produced the letters of
Professor Stuart, and of Drs. Wood and
Ware. In this sermon he took that posi-
tion in behalf of Unitarianism, which he
defended in many subsequent discourses,
on public occasions, and in his own pul-
pit.

Dr. Channing being very feeble, em-
barked for Europe, in May, 1822, and
returned home in August, 1823. During
his absence, he visited Great Britain,
France, Switzerland, and Italy. In the
autumn of 1830 he was again compelled,
by his state of health, to leave the United

States, and passed the winter of 1830-31
in St. Croix. One or two subsequent
winters he spent in Philadelphia.

He probably derived permanent benefit
from this absence to Europe, but still
there was such an habitual want of vigor
in his system, that, soon after his return,
he desired an assistant in his ministry ;
and a colleague was settled in 1824.
From this time he continued to officiate
in the pulpit, with more or less fre-
quency, as his strength permitted, till
1840, when he requested the society to
release him from all obligation pf pro-
fessional service, though he desired to
retain the pastoral connexion towards
them. As his mind was relieved from
the pressure of ministerial engagements,
his attention was more and more given
to the aspects which society, in its opin-
ions, usages, and institutions, presents to
the Christian philanthropist. He was
led, by his interest in these subjects, to
communicate to the public, at different
times, his thoughts on questions of im-
mediate urgency, involving high moral
considerations, and devoted a large part
of his time to an examination of the light
which Christianity throws upon practical
ethics.

Dr. Channing's residence was in Bos-
ton, but for several years he had been
accustomed to spend the summer in the
country, amidst those influences of nature
which he esteemed as even more grate-
ful in their effects upon the mind than
on the body. He chose his residence for
the season of 1842, among the moun-
tains that traverse the western section
of Massachusetts, in whose beautiful
seclusion he found a high degree of en-
joyment, and a firmer tone of health

104

CHINESE INGENUITY.

than he had possessed for a long time.
On his journey homeward, by way of
Vermont, he was exposed to a tempera-
ture unusual at the season, and too
severe for him to encounter with impu-
nity, which produced an access of dis-
ease, that prevented his proceeding be-
yond Bennington. Here his illness
steadily advanced till it overpowered the
vital energy ; and what at first were the
slight apprehensions of his friends, were
converted into anxious fears, that only
gave place to the sorrows of bereave-
ment. He observed the progress of his
disease with the calmness that was ha-
bitual with him in every situation ;
expressed a sense of the Divine love
even beyond what he had before felt,
and manifested that exquisite tenderness
of affection, which gave such beauty to
his private life.

Dr. Channing's illness extended over
twenty-six days. As is usual in autum-
nal fevers, the action of the brain w r as
increased, and the mind was crowded
with subjects and images, which at times
occasioned him distress, as depriving
him of that control over his thoughts,
which in health, and under previous
attacks of disease, he habitually exer-
cised. The nature of his complaint, also,
made it necessary to avoid the excite-
ment of the pulse inevitable upon con-
versation, and he therefore, as well as
those about him, abstained from long-
continued discourse. Still he said much
that can never be forgotten ; and the
beautiful serenity, and the perfect trust
which he exhibited, made the apartment
in which he lay waiting for death, a place
of holy instruction, and peaceful sympa-
thies. He expressed a wish to die at

home, but yielded himself wholly to the
Divine will. His bodily suffering was
at no time extreme. Towards the close
of the disease there was an oppression
on the chest, and he sank rapidly. He
died at half past five o'clock, on Sunday,
October 2, 1820.

CHINESE INGENUITY. The ingenuity
of the Chinese is too often exercised for
the purpose of fraud. Sometimes you
will buy a capon, as you may think, of a
Chinese, but find you have only the skin
of the bird, which has been so inge-
niously filled, that the deception is not
discovered until it is prepared for being
dressed.

They also make counterfeit hams.
These are made of pieces of wood, cut in
the form of a ham, and coated over with
a certain kind of earth, which is covered
with hog's skin ; and the whole is so in-
geniously prepared, that a knife is neces-
sary to detect the fraud.

A gentleman travelling in China some
few years ago, bought some chickens, the
feathers of which were curiously curled.
In a few days, he observed the feathers
straight, and that the chickens were of
the most common sort. The man who
sold them had curled the feathers of the
whole brood, a little while before he sold
them.

EFFECT OF CLIMATE AND CULTIVATION
ON VEGETABLES. The myrtle-tree, which
with us is a small shrub, grows in Van
Dieman's Land to the height of two hun-
dred feet, and has a trunk from thirty to
forty feet in circumference. The wood
resembles cedar

THE MORSE.

The Morse,

THERE is only one species of this re-
markable animal, yet the singularity
of its appearance has procured for it a
variety of names, as the Walrus, the
Sea-Cow, the Sea-Horse, &c. The only
animal which it resembles is the Seal.
It has two large tusks growing out of
the upper jaw, directed downwards.
From the high latitudes to which the
Mofse is chiefly confined, there has been
but little ascertained respecting it. It is
not even known with certainty upon
what it feeds. Some suppose its food to
be entirely animal ; whilst others have
represented it as feeding upon sea-weed.
It is probable, however, that it may turn
over the sea-weed with its long tusks, to
dislodge the animals upon which it
feeds, from the rocks.

The Morse is sometimes found eigh-
teen feet long, with tusks about two feet
in length. Its general color is brown.

It is a social animal, and resorts in great
numbers to favorite places on the far
northern coast, where it lies on rocks and
icebergs, till hunger compels it to resort
to the water for food. It is not active on
land, but its tusks enable it to climb up
high banks with facility.

The Morse is esteemed for the oil
which it affords. Their tusks also are
very valuable. They are hunted for
these articles, the ivory being hardei
and whiter than that of the elephant.
When one of these animals is encoun-
tered on the ice, or in the water, the
hunter strikes him with a strong har-
poon made expressly for this purpose.
The animal is then drawn to the nearest
flat iceberg. They then flay him, sepa-
rate the two tusks from the head, cut out
the fat, and carry it to the vessel. A
morse will furnish half a ton of oil.

106

INQUISITIVE JACK.

Inquisitive Jack,

CHAPTER III.

The poultry yard.

SHALL not undertake to tell the whole
history of the old hen and chickens,
whose story is begun in the preceding
chapter. If any of my readers meet
with Jack, who is now a man, they can
ask him, and he will tell them how the
greater part of the brood grew up to be
pullets or cockerels, and made a consid-
erable noise in the world. He will tell
them how the former at last became old
hens, and laid eggs, and cackled like
their ancestors ; and how the latter,
after many funny trials, learned to crow,
and finally to fight, as their fathers and
grandfathers had done before them. I
must tell you, myself, what Jack said to
his aunt about this fighting.

He had watched the chickens with a
great deal of care, and he was greatly
diverted to see the little roosters, as soon
as they had little bits of red combs on
their heads, try to crow and fight.
They really seemed like some smart
boys we have seen, at the age of sixteen
or seventeen, trying to smoke cigars, or
drink wine, or some other liquor, and
appearing very ridiculous, while they
fancied that they were exciting the envy
and admiration of all around them, inas-
much as they were imitating the deeds
of those older than themselves.

Jack laughed heartily at the ambi-
tious efforts of the cockerels, as well in
boasting as in battle until, one day, he
saw two of them fight till their heads
were bloody, and one of them had his
eyes picked out. This shocked him

INQUISITIVE JACK.

107

greatly, and his heart being grieved, he
went to tell what had happened to his
aunt. She tried to comfort him as well
as she could, but, at last, he spoke to her
as follows : " You told me, aunt Betsey,
that these creatures were governed by
instinct, and that this instinct was im-
planted by God. You said that the obedi-
ence of the chickens to their parent was of
this nature, and furnished a good exam-
ple to children. Now, I wish to ask
if the fighting of the cockerels is not
implanted by God, and therefore a good
example to children?"

Aunt Betsey smiled at the shrewdness
of this question, and seeing that it was
asked in earnest, and not scoffingly, by
Jack, she replied seriously in these
words : " I do not -suppose, Jack, that
instinct is the only guide of animals.
It is their guide when young, but when
they are older and know how to take
care of themselves, then I suppose that
in many things they act freely and from
their own sense and judgment. When
you were an infant you were guided by
instinct, but now that you are older, you
act freely, according to your choice.
You may fight, or you may be peaceful,
just as you please. Having arrived at
this period, you are responsible for your
conduct, for it has pleased God to make
you free. It is just so, I think, with
these young cockerels ; they may fight,
or let it alone. If they fight and get
bloody noses, they only are to blame.
And if they do fight, it is no example
for us. God has given human beings a
law of peace, and this should be their
rule. Dr. Watts has said,

' Let dogs delight
To bark and bite

| For God hath made them so

Let bears and lions
Growl and fight,
For 't is their nature too.'

" But it is quite otherwise with human
beings; even if brute animals are left to
tear each other in pieces, mankind are
taught that peace, kindness and harmony
are not only the duty, but the happiness
of the human race."

From observing the hen and her
chickens, Jack's attention was drawn to
the other inhabitants of the poultry yard.
The strutting turkey, the hissing, gob-
bling goose, the waddling duck, the
screaming guinea-hen, and the fantastic
peacock, each in turn became the sub-
ject of his investigation, and each seemed
to him to have a character and interest
peculiar to itself. If I had the power
faithfully to paint all his feelings, and
space to detail all his thoughts, I could
make the story entertaining, but I must
content myself with a very general
account of the matter.

I believe there are very few persons
who have not been often amused in
pausing for a half hour and noticing the
various airs, manners and customs, of
the feathered inhabitants of the poultry
yard. The hen, stealing to her nest,
deposits her eggs, and then comes forth
with an obstreperous cackle, to tell every-
body what she has been about.

- Cut cut cadau cut-
Lay an egg every day
And have to go barefoot ! "

The rooster he that is " cock f the
walk," leads forth his body of hens, and
when he finds a good fat grub, calls his
favorites to come and feast on the deli-
cate morsel. Like a polite old beau, he

108

INQUISITIVE JACK.

seems to prefer the happiness of the
other sex to his own ; his tones and
manner are soft and insinuating, and he
becomes the very personification of gal-
lantry. While he is thus tender to the
females of the flock, he is harsh and
unsparing to his rivals of the masculine
gender. If one of them comes near, he
is sure to feel his spurs, and, after the
rebuke, to hear the shrill triumphant
crow of the conqueror.

The turkey-cock struts round and round,
grating the edges of his wings upon the
ground, and displays his purple wattles,
his crimson comb, and his black, bristly
beard, to the admiring gaze of the tender,
transcendental hens of his flock. The
guinea-hen, creeping afar, amid some
thicket, comes running home with a terri-
ble cry, as if thieves, robbers and murder-
ers were at hand ! The peacock, situated
upon some conspicuous mound, spreads
out his tail, set with a thousand gorgeous
gems, and, lost in admiration, appears to
enjoy a sublime self-conceit. Amid all
this exultation, the vulgar duck is dab-
bling in the mud, only deigning to utter
bis quack quack quack, at intervals,
few and far between. At the same time,
the silent and sentimental goose is
swimming upon the bosom of the muddy
pool, now and then plunging its long neck
into the recesses of the element upon
which it floats happy if perchance some
insect, lizard, or tadpole may reward its
search.

It is not to be supposed that these
amusing scenes escaped the sharp obser-
vation of Inquisitive Jack. He indeed,
noticed the peculiarities of the several
kinds of poultry, and had many a long
conversation upon the subject with his

aunt Betsey. We can only note the
substance of what she told him.

The domestic fowls are the descend-
ants of birds originally wild. The barn-
door cock and hen came in the first place
from Asia, and in some parts of India
they are still to be met with, though their
appearance is somewhat different from
that of the tame breeds. The peacock
came also from Asia, and the guinea-hen
from Africa. The duck is but a tame
mallard, a bird which is often shot
along our coasts. The honest goose is
descended from the wild gray bird, that
is often seen in flocks, in spring time,
high in air, and in the shape of a trian-
gle, wending their way to the far north,
where they may breed in solitude, peace
and safety.

The turkey is the only original bird
of America among our poultry. It was
found in the forests, when the Euro-
peans first visited this continent. It is
less changed by domestication than any
other bird. If you were to see it in the
wilds of the west, where flocks of it are
still common, you would think it only a
truant turkey which had strayed from the
barn-yard. It is a strutting, vain, cow-
ardly bird, though it is very good eating.
The French call it dinde, and hence our
word dandy, which means a vain, cow-
ardly coxcomb.

PROMOTION FROM THE RANKS. Seven-
teen private soldiers of the French army,
in Bonaparte's time, by their bravery
and talents raised themselves to the fol-
lowing distinguished stations; two be-
came kings ; two. princes; nine, dukes;
two, field-marshals ; and two generals.

BILL AND THE BOYS.

109

Bill and the Boys,

The story of the lottery ticket, continued.

rinnoMAS TRUDGE was now one of the
I' richest men in the town of Buck-
I wheat, in which he resided, and it
* was not long before his good fortune
was known over the whole place. A
great many people came to see him and
talk with him about it, and hear the
whole story from beginning to end.
They desired also to see the money, and
make sure that it was real, good money ;
for many of them could hardly believe
that a poor pedlar should draw a prize of
fifty thousand dollars. A great many
persons also came to see Mr. and Mrs.
Trudge, who had never been in their
humble cottage before ; and Mrs. Trudge
was not slow to observe that the people
now called her husband Mr. Trudge, in-
stead of Tom, and herself, Mrs. Trudge,
instead of Bridget.

The town of Buckwheat consisted of
about two thousand inhabitants, who
were chiefly devoted to agriculture. It
derived its name from its producing a
large quantity of that particular kind of
grain which is famous for feeding poul-
try and making flap-jacks. It consisted
of two villages, which bore the titles of
Up-town and Down-town. In the for-
mer portion, there dwelt several 'fami-
lies of some wealth, who had removed
thither from the city of New York,
during the war of the revolution, to
escape from the dangers and anxieties
of that period. These families, having
similar tastes and habits of life, natu-
rally associated together, and were hence
called the aristocracy.

The leader of fashion among this
portion of the community was a dashing
widow, by the name of Mrs. Million.
She was rich, and so long as she was
flattered and permitted to have her own
way, she was hospitable and good-na-
tured ; but if thwarted, or if her superi-
ority in all respects were called into
question, she was haughty, ill-natured,
and vindictive.

While such was the state of things
at Up-town, there was also a natural
association formed by the people in that
portion of the place called Down-town.
" Birds of a feather flock together,"
says the adage ; and, accordingly, the
Down-towners, being drawn together by
similar tastes, habits and condition, as-
sociated with each other, and were called
the democracy. For a long time, these
names were not in use in Buckwheat,
and the people, whatever inequality in
their condition might exist, got along
very peaceably together. But when
they began to call each other names,
such as aristocrat and democrat, a feel-
ing of hostility grew up among them,
and it was not long before bad blood
was excited between them. Hitherto, all
things had gone on peaceably ; every
person was at liberty to do as he pleased,
provided thei^e was nothing improper in
his conduct; but now that these ugly
names had got in among them, there
was a great deal of scandal and back-
biting abroad. It really seemed as if the
introduction of these two words aris-
tocracy and democracy into the good
old town of Buckwheat, did as much to
break up the peace and harmony of the
people, as if two evil spirits had taken
up their residence there, and had exerted

110

BILL AND THE BOYS.

themselves to set the inhabitants by the
ears.

Thomas Trudge was naturally a fair-
rninded, honest, good-hearted fellow, and,
left to himself, would never have made
any trouble in the world. But his part-
ner, Bridget, was restless, meddlesome,
and ambitious. She was always talking
about the Up-towners, and nothing hap-
pened there, but it was tho occasion of
some sour and satirical reflection upon
her part. She kept an especial watch
upon Mrs. Million, particularly at the
meeting on Sunday. Her dress was
then thoroughly scanned, and if she
ventured to come out with a new bon-
net, gown, frill, or even ribbon, the amia-
ble Bridget was sure to exclaim some-
what in this manner : " Shame upon
that Mrs. Million, to be perking herself
up in church with her new finery, to at-
tract the attention of the whole congrega-
tion ! What is Mrs. Million, that she pre-
sumes to catch all the best of the minis-
ter's discourse the corn and the kernel
and leave nothing but the husks for
such people as we are. Oh, it 's because
she 's rich, I suppose ! But the tables
will be turned, by and by. ' Every dog
must have his day ! ' Dives had his, and
Mrs. Million is having hers ; but there 's
another world to settle these accounts in !"

It must not be supposed that Bridget
Trudge was a bad woman, even though
she indulged in such spiteful words; her
bark was a great deal worse than her
bite. But still, people who get into the
habit of talking harshly, will ere long
feel and act harshly and &> it was with
Bridget. She had been so accustomed
to indulge her love of scandal towards
the Up-towners, that she seemed to hate

them ; and as to Mrs. Million, she felt
as if she owed her some particular
grudge ; and this was the more curious,
from the fact that Mrs. Million had
always treated Bridget with kindness,
and had made her various presents of
considerable value. Nothing, however,
in the conduct of the Up-towners, could
satisfy Mrs. Trudge. Their behavior,
in her view, was all wrong. She ac-
cused them of being extravagant, worldly-
minded, dissipated, and, what was ten
times worse than all, aristocratic.

Entertaining such views as these, it
may seem strange that the first idea of
Mrs. Trudge, after she had settled it in
her mind that they were rich, was, that
she would become one of the Up-towners,
join the aristocracy, and out-dash Mrs.
Million. Her first great manoeuvre was
developed on the second Sunday after
the drawing of the prize. Her husband
went in his usual dress, but Mrs. Trudge
appeared in all the glory of her new
changeable 1 damask, decorated with fig-
ures in goM. It was made in the height
of the fashion ; and as she flaunted up
the broad aisle, you might have fancied
that she was going to a masquerade.
An enormous red satin bonnet, with huge
bunches of ribbons, red shoes and a tall
fan though it was now November
served to aid the conceit. The little
Trudges followed their mother, fantasti-
cally attired, while Tom, the pedlar, in
his rusty, brown suit, brought up the rear.

The Scottish poet, Burns, has said a
great many good things ; and among
these is the following couplet :

" Oh ! would kind heaven the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us.''

BILL AND THE BOYS VARIETIES.

ill

Mrs. Trudge supposed that on the
present occasion she was exciting the
admiration of all Buckwheat; that she
was provoking the envy of the proud
Mrs. Million, and that she was conquer-
ing the respect of the Up-towners. The
text happened to be the story of Lazarus
in Abraham's bosom, and was used by
the preacher to show the compensations
which are to be made to the humble
Christian in a future world, for the sor-
rows, suffering and poverty of this. Mrs.
Trudge made a curious, though flatter-
ing application of the text to herself.
" Yes, yes," said she, internally, " the
poor shall be comforted those who have
suffered shall have the reward. I have
'endured poverty and suffering, and now
I am taken to Abraham's bosom." She
enjoyed great satisfaction in this view of
the case, and, for the first time in her
life, fondly fancied that the preacher
intended to bestow upon her the com-
forts of Scripture.

It is not our purpose to detail the
various steps by which the Trudges
changed their position in society. It
will be sufficient to say that they left
their humble cottage and entered a new
house, which they caused to be built
upon the very top of Up-town ! This
was constructed in the most approved
style ; and the grounds around were
duly decorated with gravel-walks, ave-
nues, flower-beds, shrubbery, and long
straight rows of Lombardy poplars. Here,
they gave tea-parties and suppers ; and
in the course of two years rejoiced in
considering themselves as making a part
of that aristocracy which Mrs. Trudge
had before regarded as so hateful.
[To be continued. |

COMPARISON BETWEEN COAL AND GOLD.
In a work published a year or two
ago by a Spaniard, there is a com-
parison between the produce of gold
and silver mines in America and the
coal mines in England, from which it
appears that the gross value of the
annual produce of the coal mines, which
is 18,000,000 of tons, amounts to 450,-
000,000 francs, including the wages and
other charges, whilst the produce of the
gold and silver mines, including the
same charges, is only 220,500,000
francs ; showing a balance in favor of
the coal of England over the gold and
silver mines of the New World, of no
less a sum than 229,500,000 francs.

FAMILY MEN. Malancthon is reported
to have frequently studied the gravest
points of theology, with his book in one
hand, and, in the other, the edge of a
cradle which he constantly rocked ; and
M. Esprit, a celebrated author and
scholar, has been found reading Plato
with great attention, considering the
interruptions which he met with from
the necessity of sounding his little child's
whistle.

THE NINE OF DIAMONDS. The nine
of diamonds is called the curse of Scot-
land, from the Duke of Cumberland
writing on the back of that card his san-
guinary orders for military execution
after the battle of Culloden.

SHARP RETORT. " Will you lend fa-
ther your newspaper, sir ? he only just
wants to read it ? " " Yes, boy and ask
him to lend me his dinner I only just
want to eat it ! "

112

THE LEMING.

The Leming,

?HE Leming, which is a native of
Scandinavia, is somewhat larger than
a dormouse, having a short, bushy
tail. Its fore legs are short, and its
hind ones are long, which give it a de-
gree of swiftness. It is particularly re-
markable for its migrations, in which
many millions remove from their native
mountains and descend like a torrent upon
the plains. They move, for the most part,
in a square, marching forward by night
and lying still by day. Thus, like an
animated torrent, they are often seen
more than a mile broad, covering the
ground, and that so thick, that the hind-
most touches the leader.

It is in vain that the poor inhabitant
resists or attempts to stop their progress,
they still keep moving forward, and
though thousands are destroyed, myri-
ads are seen to succeed, and make their
destruction impracticable. They gene-
rally move in lines, which are about

three feet from each other, and exactly
parallel. Their march is always directed
from the north-west to the south-east,
and regularly conducted from the begin-
ning. Wherever their motions are
turned, nothing can stop them ; they
go directly forward, impelled by some
strange power; and from the time they,
first set out, they never once think of re-
treating. If a lake or a river happens to
intercept their progress, they all together
take to the water and swim over it ; a fire,
a deep well, or a torrent, does not turn
them out of their direction ; they boldly
plunge into the flames, or leap down
the well, where they are sometimes seen
climbing up on the other side.

If they are interrupted by a boat
across a river, while they are swim-
ming, they never attempt to swim round
it, but mount directly up its sides, and
the boatmen, who know how vain resist-
ance in such a case may be, calmly suf-

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

11J

fer the living torrent to pass on, which it
does without further damage. If they
meet with a stack of hay or corn that
interrupts their passage, instead of going
over it, they gnaw their way through.
It is happy, however, for mankind, that
they eat nothing that is prepared for
human subsistence ; they never enter a
house to destroy the provisions, hut are
contented with eating every root and
vegetable that they meet. If they hap-
pen to pass through a meadow, they
destroy it in a very short time, and give
it the appearance of being burnt up and
strewed with ashes.

An enemy so numerous and destruc-
tive would quickly render the countries
where they appear, utterly uninhabitable,
did it not fortunately happen that the
same rapacity that animates them to de-
stroy the labor of mankind, at last impels
them to destroy and devour each other.
After committing incredible devastation,
they are at last seen to separate into two
armies, opposed with deadly hatred, and

they continue their engagements till one
party overcomes the other. From that
time they utterly disappear ; some sup-
pose that they rush headlong into the
sea; others that they kill themselves;
but the most probable opinion is, that
having devoured the vegetable produc-
tions of the country, they fall to devour-
ing one another. However this may
be, they are found dead by thousands,
and their carcasses have been known to
infect the air for several miles around,
so as to produce very malignant disor-
ders.

The Swedes and Norwegians, who
live by husbandry, consider an invasion
from these vermin as a terrible visitation ;
but it is very different with respect to the
Laplanders, who lead a vagrant life like*
the beings themselves. They are never
so happy as when an army of these
creatures come down amongst them, for
then they have a feast upon their flesh,
which they esteem very good eating,
although rejected both by cats and dogs.

Pictures of Various Nations,

CHAPTER IV.

The Indians, continued.

,ET us now proceed with our
promised account of some of
the most remarkable manners
and customs of the great
tribes of Indians, which oc-
cupy the western portion of
the United States. Among the chief
tribes, are the Osages, Pawnees, Choc-
taws, Creeks, Cherokees, Sacs and

VOL. VII. 8

Foxes, Assineboins, and Winnebagoes-
To the north, are the Blackfeet and the
Chippewas. There are also several
smaller tribes. These occupy the great
tract of country which lies immediately
west of the Rocky Mountains ; on the
other side of that range are a multitude
of other tribes. All these Indians are
supposed to amount to between two and
three hundred thousand.

The people of these different tribes
speak different languages, though- these

114

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

have some resemblance. In their per-
sonal appearance, there is little to distin-
guish them. They are all copper-colored,
with small black eyes, and high cheek
bones. The hair is invariably black in
youth, turning gray in age. It is coarse
and lank, resembling horse hair. It is
very glossy a quality which is in-
creased by the use of grease.

The men are tall and well shaped;
their arms are small, but their legs are
very stout. They can endure long absti-
nence from food, and run for a great dis-
tance with speed. They have not, how-
ever, the strength and endurance of the
white man. In a personal conflict, where
strength and energy of purpose are re-
quired, the white man will generally
overcome the Indian.

The women are much shorter than
the men, and are capable of performing
a great deal of labor. All the drudgery
of the household falls to their lot. The
warrior and the hunter cannot stoop to
the cultivation of the soil, or any of the
ordinary business of life. In travelling
from one part of the country to another,
the women carry heavy burdens, take the
entire charge of the furniture, pitch the
tents, gather the fuel, and kindle the
(ires; cut up and dress the meat, besides
taking care of the children.

Some of the tribes are stationary and
live in villages, their houses being made
of stone and mortar covered with coarse
thatch. These tribes carry on some
agriculture, and produce corn, pump-
kins, and beans. They frequently send
out hunting parties, who furnish a sup-
ply of meat from the buffaloes, deer,
.-bear, and other quadrupeds.

Other tribes have permanent villages,

built like the preceding, which however
are occupied only in winter. In spring,
they plant their grounds, and then, taking
their tents, set forward, and spend their
summer in roaming from place to place,
chiefly for the purpose of obtaining game.
The men spend their time in war and the
chase, and the women in performing
household duties. During these excur-
sions, they seem for the most part to live
a happy, careless life, though they some-
times suffer from the attacks of their
enemies. About the middle of autumn,
they return and take up their abode at
their winter residence. Here they gather
their harvest, which is now ripened.

Besides the great business of war and
the chase, the Indian men carry on a con-
siderable traffic in the hides of the ani-
mals they kill. White traders fre-
quently visit their settlements, and, ir
exchange for their furs, give them vari-
ous trinkets, blankets, knives, hatchets,
powder, ball and fire-arms, together with
rum and whiskey, the great bane of the
Indian. The amusements of these sav-
ages are chiefly found in the serious
pursuits of life, war, and the chase.
Their councils, also, in which the lead-
ing men make great speeches, excite a
deep and lively interest. Besides these
sources of pleasure, the Indian men are
very much addicted to various kinds of
dances; in these they represent their
feats in battle and the chase. The wo-
men take no part in such sports, except
as spectators.

A great source of amusement with the
Indian men is found in personal deco-
rations. They pluck out their beards
with the utmost care, probably that they
may paint themselves with the more

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

115

facility. They now use tweezers made
of wire, but they formerly used muscle-
shells, the edges of which were ground
smooth. The operation is performed
with a jerk, like that commonly used in
plucking a goose.

They paint their bodies in various
colors, with various devices. They deco-
rate themselves with necklaces of bear's-
claws, head-pieces consisting of the pate
and horns of the buffalo, and ornamented
robes of buffalo skins. They also wear
feathers in their hair ; the chief idea in
these decorations seems to be to present
a fierce and startling appearance.

The chief amusement of the women,
aside from their laborious duties, seems
to be found in gossiping. They never
mingle in the sports of the men, but
seem to take great pleasure in witness-
ing them. They are little addicted to
finery, and dandyism is almost wholly
given up to the sterner sex. Notwith-
standing that they are the mere slaves
of the men, they are talkative, lively and
cheerful, and seem to possess a good
deal of that sympathy and kindness of
heart common to women in all condi-
tions of society.

As I have said, the Indians have no
books, no schools, and no churches.
Their knowledge is almost wholly con-
fined to the tract of country in which
they live and the few arts they practise.
They believe in the existence of a great
and good Spirit, and also an evil Spirit.
They believe that they shall exist in a
future state ; if they perform their part
well in this life, they hope to enjoy a
paradise in the next, fashioned after
their notions of happiness. The Indian,
about to die, addresses his mind to the

Great Spirit, setting forth his feats in
battle and the chase, and expresses the
hope that in the future state, he shall be
surrounded by obedient squaws, roam
over rich prairies, feed on fat buffaloes,
and find no prickly pear to wound his
feet. The Indians are superstitious, and
believe in the efficacy of various charms.
They have sorcerers, who pretend to cure
diseases by their incantations.

Mankind in all countries are formed
by the circumstances in which they live.
The savages of the western wilds have
those faculties 'sharpened, which are
called into frequent exercise. Those
who have horses become very expert
riders. The hunter and the warrior
have a keenness of sight, and a nicety
of observation, which are truly wonder-
ful. It is related that a hunter belong-
ing to one of the western tribes, on his
return home one day to his hut, discov-
ered that his venison, which he had hung
up to dry, had been stolen. After taking
observations upon the spot, he set off in
pursuit of the thief, whom he tracked
through the woods. Having gone a
little distance, he met some persons, of
whom he inquired, if they had seen a
little old white ma?i, with a short gun,
accompanied by a small dog with a short
tail ? They replied in the affirmative ;
and upon the Indian assuring them that
the man thus described had stolen his
venison, they desired to be informed how
he was able to give so minute a descrip-
tion of a person he had not seen.

The Indian replied thus, "The thief
I know is a little man, by his having
made a pile of stones to stand upon in
order to reach the venison from the
height I hung it, standing on the ground ;

116

THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER.

that he is an old man, I know by his
short steps which I have traced over the
dead leaves in the woods ; and that he is
a white man, I know by his turning out
his toes when he walks, which an Indian
never does. His gun I know to be short,
by the mark the muzzle made in rubbing
the tree on which it leaned ; that his dog
is small, I know by his tracks ; and that
he has a short tail, I discovered by the
mark it made in the dust where he was
sitting at the time his master was taking
down the meat."

This story shows that savages are
very sharp in little matters to which
their circumstances have directed their
attention. But how great is their igno-
rance of many important subjects ! They
have no idea of geography, beyond their

own travels ! They do not know the
shape of the world its vast magnitude,
its mighty rivers, its boundless oceans,
or the nations and kingdoms with which
it is covered. They know nothing of
Europe, or Asia, or Africa. They know
nothing of astronomy except from what
they see, and the highest conception they
have of the stars is that they are fires
with which the Great Spirit lights his
pipe. They know nothing of the great
truths of the Bible, and they conceive
the Deity to be a being possessing
nearly the same qualities as themselves.
How fearful is the darkness which rests
upon uncivilized, unchristianized man,
and how thankful should we be for the
advantages bestowed upon us by the light
of knowledge and truth of revelation !

The Old Man in the Corner,

NO. rv.

REMINISCENCES OF A RAG.
(Concluded.)

has there been a gayer

P art y tnan tne one assembled
to celebrate Phillipina's wed-
ding. The bride herself was
^_ ^ in excellent spirits, and her
husband, Bob, danced, frisked, and flour-
ished as if he were mad with delight.
The whole company, indeed, seemed
like a parcel of happy children, heedless
of the past, careless of the future,
and only intent upon enjoying the pass-
ing moment. They were all slaves,
bought and sold like merchandize, but
they seemed not to think of that. The

banjo struck up its liveliest measure,
and the bride and groom opened the
ceremonies with a waltz. How Philli-
pina did swim round the room, turning,
twisting and twirling about, like a crazy
peg-top ! Mounted upon her head, I
performed my part, and having been
nicely starched, and extending to the
height of half a yard, you may believe I
made rather a conspicuous figure. The
pure white of my complexion set off
Phillipina's glistening skin to great ad-
vantage. As we went waltzing round
the room, I heard some compliments
upon the loveliness of the bride, but many
more as to the beauty of the turban.
" Well, it was a happy night.

THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER

117

danced ' Coal black Rose,' 'Possum up a
gum-tree,' and many other favorite mea-
sures of the kind ; but as this was some
years ago, 'Jim Crow' and the 'Cachucha'
had not got into vogue. At a late hour,
the party broke up, and on the morrow,
I was laid upon the shelf. For several
weeks, I was occasionally called into
service to attend at parties made for the
bride and groom, after which, I had a
long repose in a box, with a bunch of
artificial flowers, some tousled ribbons,
and other old finery.

" What length of time now passed, I
cannot say, but after a long space, there
was a rummaging in the box, and on
looking up, I perceived that Phillipina
had come to take me out. The poor
creature had a very sad aspect, and tears
as bright as those that fall from any
eyes, coursed down her cheeks. I soon
learned the cause of this. Her husband
had been sold to a planter, who lived in
the interior, and had left her forever.
Thus, what the church had joined to-
gether, man had put asunder, agreeably
to the laws and customs of that Christian
land. Nor was this all. Phillipina had
been purchased by a Portuguese noble-
man, to attend his lady ; and the whole
party were immediately to proceed to
Portugal !

" My mistress, who had a heart, not-
withstanding her complexion, took leave
of her friends, shed many tears, and we
went on board the ship. During the
voyage, I was packed away with my old
companions, the faded flowers, and tou-
sled ribbons. We reached Lisbon, and
after a few months, we proceeded toward
the country seat of Phillipina's master a
fine castle upon the mountains, on the

borders of Spain. As we were passing
through a deep and dark ravine, our
pnrty was attacked by robbers ; a despe-
rate scuffle ensued between our company
and that of the banditti, but the latter at
last prevailed, and taking our entire bag-
gage, hurried it away into the recesses
of the mountains. I was taken with the
rest, and thus was forever separated from
Phillipina.

" When I next saw the light, it was in
a splendid castle. The robbers had se-
lected the choicest articles from their
booty, and one of them, assuming the
disguise of a pedlar, took these to the
castle. I was purchased by the lady, a
stately dame, with beautiful black eyes,
black hair, and a soft, but melancholy
expression of countenance. She paid
for me an enormous price, and after the
pedlar was gone, she sat down and gazed
at me with a delighted look. I may say
it without vanity, those fair eyes had
never before looked upon a piece of mus-
lin, so sheer, even and dazzling. Phil-
lipina thanks to the kind-hearted crea-
ture ! had put me in the best condition ;
and behold, the slave's turban now the
favorite of a duchess !

" Nothing could exceed the gloomy
magnificence of the castle in which I now
dwelt. It stood upon the brow of a lofty
rock, from the battlements of which, you
looked down upon a valley threaded by
a silver stream, and dotted over with
vineyards and groves of olive, lemon,
and orange trees. The air was filled
with the most delicious fragrance, and
far as the eye could reach, the lovely
valley seemed to stretch out, presenting
a scene of luxuriance- and peace. On
the other side of the castle, was a sue-

118

THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER.

cession of rugged mountains, covered
with gloomy forests of cork trees, with
occasional groups of oak and chestnut.
The view resembled a sea of waving
leaves covered by a thin atmospheric
veil of a purple hue. Nothing could
exceed the grandeur and richness of the
spectacle.

" The castle was itself a kind of vil-
lage, where there were at least a hun-
dred people. Its master was a duke, of
an ancient family, and bearing at least a
dozen titles attached to his name. He
was a dark, sallow and gloomy man, yet
very handsome. He bore a military title,
and had served in the wars. There was
about him a stern, stately demeanor, be-
fitting the soldier, yet, when he addressed
the fair duchess, his manner was gentle
and winning.

" The dame, however, for some cause,
was unhappy. Still youthful, she spent
her time in seclusion, and seemed to de-
vote almost all her thoughts to religious
duties and ceremonies. I learned that
she had been married contrary to her
inclination, and that in the midst of the
luxuries that surrounded her, she was
far less happy than the menials about the
castle. In vain were all the attentions
of her lord to soothe her melancholy.
The heart was given to another, and her
happiness had gone with it.

" The lady had no books, save a few
old Spanish ballads, and these she had
learned by heart. She took an oc-
casional drive ; sometimes sauntered
through the magnificent gardens at-
tached to the castle, but more frequently
buried herself amid the dark labyrinths
of the park, where she sometimes met
a cavalier, who kissed her hand, and

departed, leaving her in tears. With
these exceptions, the lady spent the
greater part of her time in the little
chapel of the castle, on her knees, before
the image of the Virgin, and in her
boudoir engaged in needle work.

" A new thought now occurred to her,
which was to work me into a handker-
chief for the Virgin in the chapel. This
design was immediately entered upon,
and industriously pursued for more than
a year. Some tears fell upon me during
that period, but they were too bright to
leave any stain behind. At last I was
finished, and after a meeting between the
lady and the strange cavalier in the wood,
I was one evening placed around the neck
of the holy mother's image, and fastened
with a diamond of inestimable value.

" I had scarcely remained a month in
this condition, when, one night, a person,
whose features I could not discover, en-
tered the chapel, took the diamond pin,
and crossing himself repeatedly before
the Virgin, telling his beads, and saying
a number of 'ave marias,' he went away.
The theft was not discovered, for a paste
pin was put in the place of the stolen
jewel. Not long after this, an attack
was made upon the castle by a party of
French soldiers. It was bravely defended
by the duke and his attendants, but with-
out avail. He escaped with his fair
dame through some of the winding pas-
sages ; and their further story I am
unable to tell. My own fate was melan-
choly indeed. One of the cannon pierc-
ed the chapel, and striking the breast of
the holy Virgin, scattered the image in
a thousand fragments. Torn and black-
ened, I was thrown upon the floor, by
the side of a bleeding soldier. He took

THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER.

119

me up, to staunch his wound, and when
he was carried away by his comrades, I
was taken with him.

" His wound was not serious ; and
after a short space, I was thrust into his
pocket, stained with blood. For several
weeks, I performed the office of wiping
the fellow's nose. Thus I was reduced
to the most miserable and degraded con-
dition. At last I was thrust into the sol-
dier's knapsack, and for a long period,
travelled about with him. My compan-
ions consisted of a wad of lint, an old
cigar, the handle of a jack;knife, a little
black cross, an old seal-skin purse, be-
sides sundry damaged articles of dress.

" After a great variety of marches and
countermarches, the soldier was finally
wounded in battle, and carried to some
barracks. Here he was stretched out
upon a bed of straw, with several other
miserable wretches. They were visited
once a day by the surgeon, and every
morning the man with the dead-cart
came round to carry away those who
had expired. The dead-cart-men had
become so hardened as to perform their
office with as much indifference as if
they were dealing with so many sacks
of salt. If they could perceive no
motion in the bodies, they would seize
upon them and carry them away, hardly
pausing to consider whether they were
yet dead. So long as life and conscious-
ness remained, the poor soldiers were
accustomed to give a kick as these
hearsemen performed their rounds, in
order to save themselves from being
borne away to the charnel-house. One
morning no motion was perceived in my
poor soldier. He had given his last
kick, and he was borne to his grave.

His knapsack was left behind, and I
became the plunder of one of the attend-
ants of the hospital.

" For a time, I remained with a heap
of rubbish, where I found myself with a
parcel of old rags, each of which could
have told a tale, perhaps, as curious as
my own. There was an old shirt, which
had belonged to a man who had died of
the plague ; a pocket handkerchief, spun
by the silk-worms of India, and manu-
factured by Hindoo artizans, and after
being borne to Europe, had ministered
to the conveniences of at least three
different persons ; an old frill which had
flourished upon the bosom of a beau, and
sundry other fragments equally curious.
After a long space, we were bundled
together, taken to the city of Cadiz,
packed in an enormous bale, and shipped
to Boston.

" Thus, I made my fourth voyage
across the Atlantic, and found myself
restored to the country of my birth. I
had passed through various adventures,
but alas, what was my present condition !
How sadly did it contrast with the
brighter days of my existence. Once
the favorite 'of a duchess; once the orna-
ment of the holy Virgin, and fit to be
decorated with a priceless gem ; now an
old rag tumbled in, cheek by jowl, with
a thousand vulgar fragments of shirts,
sheets, and nose-wipers.

" I did not remain in this condition
long. I was soon purchased by Messrs.
Tileston & Hollingsworth, and trans-
ported to their mill at Dorchester ; and
here I am awaiting my fate. And what
is that to be ? Am I to be manufactured
into a pure sheet, upon which Mr. Long-
fellow shall write one of his beautiful

120

PERSIA.

sonnets; or make an immortal leaf in a
new edition of Prescott's Cortez; or shall
I go gilt-edged, to some fair lady, and
receive her confession to her lover; or
shall I be impressed with the magic
figures of a bank, and bear a value a
hundred times my weight in gold; or
shall I go to the office of a penny paper,
and be cried about the streets by the boys,
' Here 's the second edition of the Mail,
Bee, and Times, with a full account of
the last horrible murder ! ' "

Thus I read, or seemed to read, from
the scroll, which the haggish old rag
in the bin had put into my hands. As
I finished the last sentence recorded
above, the paper shrunk from my grasp.
At the same instant, I saw the grisly
image rise again from the rag-bin, but
with a look so portentous, that 1 trem-
bled in every limb. In the agony of the
moment, I uttered a shriek, which awoke
me, and behold, " The Reminiscences of
a Rag " were but a dream !

Persia,

FHRHE present kingdom of Persia, called
'' Ivan by the natives, covers a space
I of four hundred and fifty thousand
* square miles, lying" between 25 and
40 N. latitude, and 44 and 62 E. lon-
gitude, constituting an elevated table

land. On the east and north are extensive
plains, and on the south lie the Persian
Gulf and the Indian Sea. To the east
are the kingdoms of Afghanistan, and
Beloochistan. The climate of Persia
varies in the different portions. To the

PERSIA.

121

north it is cold ; in the inland provinces
the air is serene and pure ; but in the south
it is hot, and the wind often proves fatal
to health. There are but few rivers, and
water is very scarce. In some parts of
Persia, the soil is unfruitful, but the lux-
uriance in other spots is wonderful. The
vale of Shiraz is much celebrated for the
salubrity of the air, and the richness and
variety of its fruits and flowers. Near
Ispahan, are cultivated all the beautiful
flowers that can be conceived, particu-
larly roses, from which is made the cele-
brated otto of rose, held by ladies in such
high esteem. Here the pomegranate
tree grows wild, delighting the eye with
its splendid red blossom.

In Persia, there are a great variety of
wild animals and birds. In some places,
the lion holds his sway ; in others, wolves,
jackals, and foxes abound. Leopards,
lynxes, and bears are very numerous.
One of the most remarkable animals is
the argali, or mountain sheep. But the
most beautiful creature is the gazelle, so
justly celebrated for its grace and agility.

There are many tribes in Persia,
many of whom live a wandering life.
The Persians are distinguished for their
politeness and learning. The Turkish
is the common language ; the Persian
being only spoken by the people of sci-
ence and literature.

The Persians are generally a hand-
some race. Their dress is peculiar and
fitted to their climate. The men wear a
long robe, wide trousers, and a silk or
calico shirt. Robes of various kinds arc
worn, tied by a muslin sash. In this is
stuck a dagger; and a sword is consid-
ered a necessary appendage to the dress
of every Persian. All classes wear a

cap made of lamb-skin. The head is
shaved, except a tuft on the top and
behind the ears. The dress of the wo-
men is very simple. In winter, a close-
bodied robe, reaching to the knees, is
worn over a kind of vest. In summer a
loose dress of silk or muslin, loose trou-
sers and a vest, form the usual attire.
The head is covered with a black tur-
ban, over which a cashmere shawl is
thrown to serve for a veil.

The food of the Persians is simple;
they drink the wine of the country,
which is delicious, and use a great deal
of coffee. Tobacco is smoked by all
classes. The Persians have been called
the Parisians of the East, though they
bear a nearer resemblance to the Greeks.
They are cheerful, cunning, deceitful,
and dishonest, but very social, and fond
of conversation. This abounds in com-
plimentary phrases, fables and apologues.
The manner of salutation is to touch
the hands, and then raise them to the
forehead. When they salute the king
or his officers, they bow thrice to the
ground.

The wandering tribes are found in all
parts of Persia. .They are divided into
dwellers of cities, and dwellers in the
field. Many of them live in tents, which
they place on the plains during the win-
ter, and seek the pasture of the moun-
tains in the summer. They have large
flocks of cattle. They breed camels and
horses for sale, and have a large trade
in butter made of the milk of their asses.
They feed principally on their flocks,
and eat sour milk, cheese, and buttermilk.
They range at liberty, over the moun-
tains and plains, paying a tax to govern-
ment.

122

PERSIA.

There are a people in Persia called
Parsees, who worship fire, which they
make their idol. They live an honest
and pure life, subsisting upon the fruits
and productions of their lands. Many
of them, suffering persecution by the
Turks, emigrated to India, where there
are numerous communities of them.
The Arabians, who form part of the
population of Persia, gain their liveli-
hood by fishing and going to sea ; some
of them are merchants, while others are
occupied in the planting of date trees.

The common advantages of education
may be obtained by all classes in Persia,
but the arts and sciences are but little
attended to. The popular literature is
comprised in poems, fables, and roman-
tic tales. Some of the works of their
poets are translated and much admired.

The religion of Persia is Mahometan,
with some slight variations in the -forms
and ceremonies. There are a few
Christians. There is also a Catholic
mission, but it has made few converts.
The Persians are generally willing to
discuss the merits of different religions,
and are thus open to conviction.

The usages at funerals in Persia are
very peculiar. After the death and
burial of a friend, the relatives mourn
forty days, during which time, they sup-
pose the grave to be watched by angels.
They accordingly keep a large supply
of food upon the place of interment, for
the support of these ethereal watchers.
They must have rather earthly ideas of
the wants of angelic beings. They are
also, during the forty days of mourning,
in the constant habit of asking the de-
ceased person why he died !

The government of Persia is an abso-

lute despotism ; the king himself cannot
change his own edicts. Sanguinary and
barbarous punishments are very com-
mon ; the eyes being sometimes put out.
Theft is punished by making a hole in a
wall, putting the offender in, and building
it up again, thus suffocating him. The
lower classes are punished by the basti-
nado, or whipping the feet.

How TO GET LETTERS FREE. A
shrewd countryman, being informed that
there was a letter for him in the post-
office, went accordingly for it. On the
postmaster's handing it to him, he frankly
confessed that he could not read, and
requested the postmaster to open it, and
let him know the contents, which he
very readily did. After getting all the
information he wanted, he knowingly
shrugged up his shoulders, thanked him
for his politeness, and dryly observed
" When I have some change I '11 call and
take it."

"LovE ONE ANOTHER." A Welsh par-
son, preaching from this text, told his
congregation, that in kind and respectful
treatment to our fellow-creatures, we
were inferior to the brute creation. As
an illustration of the truth of this remark,
he quoted an instance of two goats, in
his own parish, that once met upon a
bridge so very narrow, that they could
not pass by without one thrusting the
other off into the river. "And," con-
tinued he, "how do you think they
acted? Why, I will tell you. One goat
lay down, and let the other leap over
him. Ah' beloved, let us live like
goats "

VARIETIES.

123

Varieties,

AN OLD MAID'S WILL. A maiden
lady, who died in London, in 1786, left
the following singular legacies in her
will :

"Item. I leave to my dear entertain-
ing Jacko, (a monkey,) 10 per annum,
during his natural life, to be expended
yearly, for his support."

"Item. To Shock and Tib, (a lap-
dog and a cat,) 5 each, for their annual
subsistence during life ; but should it so
happen that Shock die before Tib, or
Tib before Shock, then and in that case
the survivor to have the whole."

The legacies in remainder were be-
queathed to her niece.

FREDERICK THE GREAT. A Prussian
ecclesiastic, of the name of Mylius, found
among his father's papers a promissory
note to a considerable amount, which
the Prince Royal, afterwards Frederick
the Great, had given him. He therefore
immediately sent it to the king with the
following letter :

"Sire, Among my father's papers I
have found the enclosed note. I cannot
tell whether it has been through negli-
gence or any other means that it has
not been cancelled. I know not, but I
leave the matter to the disposal of your
majesty."

The king immediately sent for My-
lius, and said that he well remembered
receiving the money from his father, and
that if there was any error he would be
the loser himself. He immediately paid
the money, with interest.

SIR LOIN. The sirloin of beef is said
to owe its name to King Charles the
Second, who, dining upon a loin of beef,
and being particularly pleased with it,
asked the name of the joint. On being
told, he said, " for its merit, then, I will
knight it, and henceforth it shall be
called Sir Loin."

In a ballad of Sir John Barleycorn,
this circumstance is thus mentioned,

" Our second Charles, of fame facete,

On loin of beef did dine ;
He held his sword, pleased, o'er the meat,
'Arise, thou famed Sir Loin.' "

LA FONTAINE. This famous writer
is said to have been the most absent of
men. He was once called upon to at-
tend the burial of one of his friends, and
sometime afterwards, he called to visit
him. At first, he was shocked at the
information of his death ; but recovering
from his surprise, he observed, " It is
true enough, for now, I recollect, I went
to his burial."

A DRAGOON, having been carried by a
restive horse against Louis XIV. during
an action, his majesty became angry, and
lifted his cane, as if to strike him. On
this, the soldier, rendered desperate by
such an affront, immediately tendered
one of his pistols to the king, exclaim-
ing, at the same time, " Sire, you have
bereaved me of my honor, deprive me
also of my life." The monarch, instead
of being displeased at this sensibility,
took the first opportunity to promote so
brave a man.

124

OUR CORRESPONDENCE.

Our Correspondence,

IT is said that the Yankees are very much
given to guessing, and they are generally
allowed the privilege of guessing when they
please. In the exercise of this birthright, we
venture to guess that Robert Merry, with his
timber toe, is getting to be almost as much a
favorite with the black eyes and the blue, as old
Peter Parley was, sometime ago. We have a
great many letters from these good little people,
and they are full of kind thoughts, and pleasant
speeches, and one thing must be set down to
their credit, THEY ALWAYS REMEMBER TO FAY
THE POSTAGE. Only think of that !

We cannot publish all the pleasant letters we
get, though we should be glad to do so. We
like to encourage the first efforts of our young
friends in letter-writing, and perhaps we may
now and then give them a hint that may be use-
ful to them. And beside this, these specimens
which we publish may turn the thoughts of our
young readers to the writing of letters, and give
them some good ideas upon this important ait.
Here is a letter all the way from Georgia.

Decatitr, Ga., Uth Feb., 1844.
MR. MERRY :

I see that some little girls write to you. I
want to say something about my little cousin
Julia Ann, who lives in Petersham, Mass. I
think she does not take your Museum. I wish
she should ; and my father says I may send it to
her, and as she is a new subscriber, you say she
may have the three bound volumes too, for
$3,00, and when she sends for them by any of
her friends, you will let her have them. Send
thejiumbers for 1844, by mail, to Petersham.

You write a great many stories. I wish you
would come to Georgia, and write us a good
story about the Stone Mountain, which is in the
county of Decatur, in which we live. It is a
lone, solitary rock. Father says it is eight hun-
dred feet high, and that there was once a wall
near the top of it. Some think the famous Span-
ish adventurer, De Soto, made it a long, long
time ago. Some men built a tower on the top
of it, one hundred and sixty feet high, but it was
blown down in a storm last year. It is not a
good place to stay on the rock, for there is no
water, nor any way to get it, but by carrying
it up.

Some who have visited the *Stone Mountain

say it is second to no curiosity except the Falls
of Niagara.

Hoping for more stories and plenty of pic-
tures, I am your young friend,

S. M. W.

Quincy, Feb. 2m, 1844.
MR. MERRY :

DEAR SIR, I would be greatly obliged to you
if you will be so kind as to publish the follow-
ing enigma in the Museum for April or May, as
you choose. And I should be very happy to
have soiue one of your subscribers puzzle it out
and put it in the Museum. From a Quincy sub
scriber. Good bye, Mr. Merry.

FREDERICK H. B.

A GEOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA.

I am composed of twelve letters.

My 5, 8, 11, 4, 2 and 9, is a cape on a large
island.

My 6, 3, 11, 4, 10 and 11, is a large circle.

My 5, 12, 3 and 8, is a tribe of Indians which
inhabit British America.

My 5, 2, 9 and 1, is a cape of S. America.

My 7, 12, 9, 7, 2, 3 and 12, is a sea between
Europe and Asia.

My 1, 8, 10, 7, 10, and 1, is a river of
Europe.

My 11, 3, 10, 7, 8 arid 12, is a small portion
of Russia.

My 8, 4, 1 and 12, is a burning mountain.

My 11, 5, 10, 1 and 12, is a country in Asia.

My 5, 8, 3, 12 and 4, is the capital of a coun-
try in Asia.

My 12, 11, 5, 8, 8 and 1, is a town in a large
island.

My whole is the name of a large portion of
this globe.

WE will endeavor to comply with the request
so pleasantly made in the following letter, in
relation to the stars, but our little friend must
give us time. The stars are a great way off,
and we do not hear from them by every mail.
Beside, Bob Merry " has a good many fish to
fry," and in order to make matters go right, he
is obliged to let everything take its turn. Will
you be patient, Dick ?

OUB CORRESPONDENCE.

125

Lexington, January nth, 1844.
MR. MERRY:

DEAR SIR, I have been taking your Museum
for some time, and I like it very much. I am
sorry to have to make the same complaint that
some of your other subscribers have made ;
that is, I do not, sometimes, get my Museum
soon enough.

I would be glad if you would give us a simple
account of the stars, and other heavenly bodies.
i have read the first part of Bill Keeler's story
about poor Tom Trudge and his wife, and I
think it is quite laughable.

I hear that almost all the great men of the
country have been invited to this place or that,
and I heartily wish that you would come and
pay your little western subscribers a visit.
You will not find yourself as much a stranger
to us, as even your neighbor Hon. John Quincy
Adams.

My dear Mr. Merry won't you come to the

west ?
Of all the countries you 've been in, you '11 like

it the best.
Here j'ou '11 find many little ones, black-eyed

and blue,
And a good many grown ones, I rather guess,

too,
Who will give you a welcome, and plenty to

eat;
For if you do not like favors, you surely like

meat.
0, there 'd be such a racket and waving of

caps,

Such forgetting of rulers, of masters and maps !
All over the country there 'd be a turn-out,
And all would join in a general shout.
" For your great men I '11 give not a fig nor a

cherry

O, here is our good friend, the kind Mr. Merry."
For there 's not a log cabin in all the broad

west,
That has not of your stories, the rarest and

best.

Your affectionate friend and subscriber,

RICHARD P. H.

Portsmouth, February 20th, 1841.
Ma. MERRY :

I am a new subscriber to your Museum, and
so far I like it very much. I take pleasure in
studying out your puzzles, and as you have
had but one this year, I thought I would make
one, and if you think it worth insertion, you
>-.ia insert it.

I am composed of eighteen letters.

My 3 ; 14, 2 and 11, is often seen in rivers.

My 3, 14, 6, 6, 16 and 10, is very useful.

My 10, 11 and 16, is a town in New Hamp-
shire.

My 6, 2 and 18, is a nick name.

My 3, 4 and 8, is an insect.

My 7, 14, 15, 4, 17 and 13, is something in
Boston.

My 3, 16, 8 and 6, is a vegetable.

My 3, 1, 2, 2 and 7, is a useful thing.

My 11, 8 and 12, is an answer often given to
a question.

Bly 12, 6, 9, 16, 8 and 6 belongs to a town.

My 13, 16, 7, 3, 8 and 5, is a limb.

My 3, 8, 16, and 1, is much in use.

My 3 and 16, is a verb.

My 10, 17 and 13, is a medicine now in use.

My 8, 11 and 16, spells the organ of sight.

My whole is a distinguished periodical publi-
cation.

A SUBSCRIBER.

THE letter which we copy below, was written
in a very neat hand, showing that the little
writer has good taste and good sense. The dol-
lar spoken of, must have been a sly fellow, for
when the letter came to the publishers, behold, it
was missing ! We have nothing to do with the
money matters of the Museum that is the
affair of Bradbury <te Soden. But we are curi-
ous to know something of the history of this
rogue of a dollar. Will our friend Edway let
us know whether it was a paper dollar or a real
shiner ? If we can catch the fellow, we '11 write
his memoirs, and we think it will be a pleasant
story. We think the. life and adventures of a
dollar that crept out of a letter one day, would
be equal to Bill Keeler's story of the eel in the
aqueduct. If, after all, our little friend forgot
to put the dollar into the letter, he may send it
to the publishers of the Museum. This will be
satisfactory to all parties, though it may spoil a
good story of a runaway dollar.

Middlebury, Vermont, Jan., 1844.
MR. MERRY :

I have been thinking this good while, that I
would write to you. You wound up your stories
of Jumping Rabbit and Inquisitive Jack raiher
too .short, I think. I should like to have you
tell a little more about Jumping Rabbit some
of his hunting expeditions, &c. If you would
put a liule more Natural History into the Mu-

126

OUR CORRESPONDENCE.

seum, I think 1 should like it better. You had
a very handsome picture in the December Mu-
seum. I like to see chickens ; and I have got
six hens, one rooster, and two white turkeys.

I am going to send you one dollar in this let-
ter. I have taken ihe Museum ever since it has
been printed. One of the volumes is bound, and
the other two volumes are up to the bookbind-
er's shop to be bound.

EDWAY B. P .

P. S. We are just informed by Messrs.
Bradbury & Soden, that the stray dollar is
found. It appears that it was in the letter, but
crept on to the floor ; it was caught, however,
and is safely put in crib.

THE following epistle, from a romantic, de-
scriptive, warm-hearted friend, was very wel-
come to us, and will be so to our readers. Alas !
for those bright days when everything gives
pleasure, and even the flowers seem like things
of life ! They are gone from Robert Merry for-
ever ; but he loves to see them reflected in the
eyes of his youthful friends. We have been at
Springfield, and can testify to the accuracy of
the following description of that beautiful, town.
One thing our fair correspondent has failed to
notice, and that is the cemetery, which is
scarcely inferior to Mount Auburn. Cannot
''Constant Reader" tell us something about it?
Instead of sending us the flower she promises,
she may send us her miniature. We have an
eye for things of that sort yet.

Springfield, Feb. 29, 1844.

A long time ago, I addressed a letter to the
little readers of the Museum, and I have had it
in my mind for some time to write them another.
I told them how old Peter Parley learned me to
make pens, and how much good Robert Merry
was like him, and how very glad I was that
Peter Parley gave him all his writings before
he died. It is not probable that all of your little
friends will recollect this, but perhaps some of
them may. I was just on the point of writing
to them again, and was about to say, " Little
readers of the Museum," when it occurred tome
that I had never written to you. So this time I
will speak to you, Mr. Merry, and tell you some-
thing about this old town, that has been settled
for more than two hundred years ; for you tell
such good stories, and talk so much like our old

benefactor, that I love you now almost as much
as I did him.

Springfield is my native town, so perhaps you
will not think it strange if I praise it up pretty
well. I think it the pleasantest place I have
ever seen. It lies upon the eastern side of
the beautiful, broad, majestic Connecticut river,
that comes winding down through this extensive
valley. It contains about eight thousand inhab-
itants, not including Cabotville and Chickopee
Falls two large manufacturing villages within
the limits of Springfield. The most thickly set-
tled part of the town lies low upon the river's
bank, but the handsomest portion is built upon
what is usually termed " the hill." This eleva-
tion commands a fine view of the lower part of
the town, and also gives a delightful view of
the river. Oh, how beautiful it looks in sum-
mer from the brow of " the hill," wending slowly
and sweetly its way to the sea. Upon " the hill "
is located the United States Armory, for manu-
facturing muskets. The public buildings consist
of three arsenals, where many of the guns are
deposited ; three long buildings, each two stories
high, where the labor is principally performed,
and another in the centre where the officers and
clerks have their offices. There are several
other smaller buildings connected with the es-
tablishment, where various branches of the work
are perfected. Also, at what is called "the
natershops," are a number of fine buildings
belonging to the government, where the pretty
Mill river affords a charming water privilege.

I once had a fine sail of two or three miles up
this stream. It had been a pleasant but sultry
day, and a small company of us merry girls
and boys when the sun had sunk down behind
the blue hills, filled three small boats, and while
the soft, mild moon looked into the deep, clear
water to see her face, the music of some thirty
voices blended with the still murmur of the
stream, and was echoed in the distance. Many
were the yellow water lilies we pulled into our
boats with their long stems, and many did we
leave floating gracefully with the current, their
modest heads turned gently on one side, looking
down upon the bosom of that pretty Mill river.
On that sultry summer's evening did I almost
wish to be one of those water lilies ; for Oh,
thought I, how delightful it must be, to wave so
gracefully one way and the other, constantly
laved by the cool waters the stars and the
moon looking down upon me in love. After
enjoying for some time the luxury which this
scene afforded, we went on shore, where was
a cool spring of water, which seemed the best
I ever drank ; and close by it I found a rare
flower. If ever 1 should find such another, I
would send it to you, Mr. Merry, that Mr. Bil-

OUR CORRESPONDENCE.

127

lings might take a drawing of it, so that the
little readers of the Museum might see it too ;
for I think it was the most splendid flower I
have ever seen. We had a fine sail home, and
sung as we went, the " Canadian Boat Song,"
which many of the little girls and boys who read
the Museum are familiar with.

But now, to tell about the armory. The larg-
est arsenal, where the guns are deposited, is a
long brick building, three stories in height, one
hundred and twenty feet long, by forty wide. It
is a noble structure, and contains ninety-four
thousand muskets, elegantly arranged in racks,
each rack containing two thousand and forty
muskets. From the upper story of this build-
ing, we have a line view of the Connecticut, and
in the summer we often see from this place
many boats gaily passing up and down the
river.

Does it not seem a pity, Mr. Merry, that so
peaceful a spot as that on which this armory is
located, should be devoted to these implements
of death ? Is it not time that they were changed
into (l ploughshares and pruning-hooks," as the
Bible tells us all these war instruments will be,
some time or other ?

A year or two since, two old barracks were
standing on the ground belonging to the United
States, that some thirty-five or forty years ago,
sheltered several hundred soldiers. They are
now torn down, but often, as I used to pass them,
I thought how happy Peter Parley would be to
sit down in one of these old buildings, and tell
us children long stories about the war and the
Indians. I often thought how glad I should be
to run and bring a chair for him, on which to
rest his gouty toe. From the spot where stood
these old buildings, may be seen Mount Tom,
some eighteen miles distant, holding up his tall
blue head. I love to look at him, for there is
always something very pleasing to me in the
sight of a noble mountain ; it makes one's heart
feel large, and seems silently to teach the eye
to look upward to Him who created all things.
I have sometimes imagined Mount Tom to be
the highest peak of the Alps, and when a dense
fog has covered its top, I have fancied it to be
all clothed with perpetual snow; for I sometimes
enjoy very much a flight of the imagination. I
think! must have learned this of old Peter Parley.
Oh, how many pretty stories has he told us about
Mount Tom, and Mount Holyoke, and the Con-
necticut, as it passes through these mountains,
and about Bellows Falls and the Indians catch-
ing fish with long spears.

The western rail-road passes through this
town. A bridge has been built across the Con-
necticut, which passenger trains cross four times
during the day, and freight trains twice. This

bridge is firmly supported by six granite piers,
of uncommon beauty and almost invincible
strength, which have hitherto, and probably ever
will, bid defiance to the large fields of ice that
come floating down the river in the spring ; and
when passing it the cars may be heard for miles.
Thisnoble specimen of architecture was designed
and executed by the enterprising and ingenious
William Howe ; and, taking it as a whole, is a
very perfect work of art, and the admiration of
all who see it.

We have seven churches in town, the largest
of which is the first Congregational Church. It
stands near the Court House, in front of which
is a fine square in which stands a fountain built
of marble, and many beautiful trees, and among
them a number of majestic elms that are an
ornament to the whole town. A tree standing
near the fountain now presents a most magnifi-
cent appearance. The water flowing from the
fountain has congealed upon it until it now looks
like a huge monument of marble, chiseled out
by some master hand. The branches of this
tree and the monument itself, are hung with
large, transparent icicles of the most exquisite
beauty. I hope, Mr. Merry, you will sometime
give your little friends a view of this square, for
I think they would be delighted to see it. Under
the shade of these tall trees, gathers the Cold
Water Army, on the 4th of July, to receive the
spray from the fountain, and to drink of the cool
water that comes gushing up and gracefully
falls into its marble basin ; after which they
march in long procession, with gay banners,
smiling faces, and happy hearts, to a most inter-
esting place called Worthington Grove, where
long tables are spread with all kinds of refresh-
ments, and decorated with flowers and ever-
greens. Here, sheltered by stately oaks and
canopied by heaven, we listen to interesting
speeches ; fill the large, tall grove with merry
songs ; send upward wild shouts of " Hurrah for
cold water ! ! " and then, gathering about the
tables, satisfy our appetites, and quench our
thirst by water from the spring ; and if now and
then a dash of rain comes down upon us, we
only sing and laugh the louder, and give still
heartier cheers for cold water ! !

There are two banks here in town ; notwith-
standing money is rather scarce. However, I
think we do pretty well by you, Mr. Merry, if
we do not abound in cash ; for of late many have
subscribed for your nice Museum. But I can-
not write any more just now, though there is
still enough to tell about this good town of
Springfield. Let me say, before I am quite
done, that we should be very happy, exceed-
ingly happy, to see you here, Mr. Merry ; and
though the cannons might not fire a salute,

128

OUR CORRESPONDENCE.

most sure 1 am that you would meet a happy
greeting.

Your affectionate young friend,

CONSTANT READER.

New York, Feb. 12, 1844.
MR. MERRY :

Bear Sir, In the last number of the Museum,
you say that in England, February has nearly
the same character as our March, and is re-
garded as the opening of spring. Will you
please tell me, in the next number, \vhy Eng-
land or London should have an earlier spring
than New York being ten degrees north of
New York? and oblige your subscriber,

WILLIAM.

Ansrver.

In reply to the preceding inquiry, we must
first remark, that the curious fact mentioned by
William, has been variously explained. Our
theory upon the subject is this. Greenland, a
vast island at the northern point of our conti-
nent, is a mighty ice-house, perhaps as exten-
sive as the whole United States. Here the ice
and snow are piled up from century to century,
imparting to all the regions around something
of its own chilly atmosphere. The northerly
winds that come even to us have something of
old Greenland's breath in them.

For this reason, as we think, all the northern
portions of North America are much colder than
they would otherwise be.

If our correspondent, William, will look at a
map of the eastern continent, he will see that
the Arctic Ocean occupies the whole space to
the north of about seventy-two degrees of lati-
tude. There is no Greenland there no great
mass of land to hoard up the ice and snow from
age to age, and furnish an everlasting ice-house
to scatter abroad its freezing influences. To
the north of the eastern continent, there is ever
an open, unfrozen sea, tending rather to abate
than increase the cold.

These simple facts will show one great reason
why our continent should b,e colder than the east-
ern continent, and will serve in part to answer
William's inquiry. There are other curious
facts in relation to this subject, which have their
bearing upon the question, but we have hardly

time to state them now. We will only add, that
the western coast of the American continent has
a much milder climate than the eastern. At
Astoria, which is in latitude about forty-seven
degrees, it is as mild as at Philadelphia, which
is at about forty degrees. The same is the fact
in relation to the eastern continent ; at the south-
ern point of Kamschatka, which is about the
latitude of London, it is almost as cold and tem-
pestuous as at Greenland. Various causes have
been assigned for these remarkable facts, but
we cannot notice them now.

ONE of our little friends seems to be suspi-
cious that the letters we insert are invented and
written by Robert Merry himself, and not by
the young persons from whom they seem to
come. This being the first of April, we might
be excused for putting off a pleasant joke upon
our readers, but it would be dishonest in us to
take the credit due to others. The letters in-
serted are the genuine productions of the vari-
ous correspondents whose signatures they bear.
Every mail brings us some of these epistles, and
at the end of the month, we have quite a flock
of them welcome as blue-birds in March.
Good bye, till the first of May.

WE have a sad story to tell, at the close of
this month's Museum. Mr. Samuel S. Soden,
one of the original publishers of this magazine,
and one who was largely instrumental in estar>
lishing it, died at his native place Saxonville,
in this State on the 20th of the present month,
aged 25 years. He was a man of very plea-
sant manners, active habits, and zealous devo-
tion to any cause which he espoused. He
took hold of Merry's Museum with great ardor,
and much of its success is to be credited to his
efforts at the outset of the undertaking. His
disease was a lingering consumption, which he
bore with great patience and even cheerfulness.
We hope our young readers will bestow upon
his memory a kind thought, as one who has
contributed to their pleasure and, may we not
add, to their profit ?

MERRY'S MUSEUM,

Vol. VII.

MAY, 1844.

No. 5,

MAY has ever been the favorite month
of the poets ; yet in New England it
usually disappoints our expectations.
In more southern climes, it unites
the soft beauties of spring with the radi-
ance of summer. At the same time that
it has warmth enough to cheer and in-
vigorate, it does not overpower with
its melting influence. The following
lines describe the southern May, rather
than our own :

May, sweet May, again is come,
May, that frees the world from gloom j
Children, children ! up and see
All her stores of jollity.
VOL. VII. 9

On the laughing hedge-row's side,
She hath spread her treasures wide ;
She is in the greenwood shade,
Where the mocking-bird hath made
Every branch and every tree
Ring with her sweet melody ;
Hill and dale are May's own treasures.
Youths, rejoice ! In sportive measures
Sing ye ! join the chorus gay !
Hail this merry, merry May !

Up then, children ! we will go
Where the blooming roses grow ;
In a joyful company,
We the bursting flowers will see ;
Up, your festal dress prepare !
Where gay breasts are meeting, there
May hath pleasures most inviting,

130

INQUISITIVE JACK.

Heart, and sight, and ear delighting.
Listen to the bird's sweet song,
Hark ! how soft it floats along.
Pleasant dames ! our pleasures share
Never saw I dames so fair;
Therefore dancing we will go.
Youths rejoice ! the flow'rets blow !
Sing ye ! join the chorus gay !
Hail this merry May !

The old rhyme tells us that

April showers
Bring May flowers ;

and how often have we been tempted,
on May morning, to go forth, expecting
to find blossoms, as we are told they do
in other countries and how have we
always been disappointed ! Still, May
is a delightful month, even in New Eng-
land, and none of us would be willing to
let it slip from the circle of the seasons.

Inquisitive Jack,

CHAPTER IV.

About birds in general.

IUR friend Jack, having made himself
familiar with the peculiarities of the
domestic fowls, turned his attention
to other species of birds. He no-
ticed particularly those which seemed to
possess gentle and confiding natures,
such as the sparrows that build upon the
shrubs round the house ; the martens
that take up their abode in boxes which
you make for them, and place near the
eaves of your dwelling; the swallows
that build in the barn, and the cheerful
robin that loves to dwell in the apple or-
chard. All these he observed with care,
noticing their modes of building and rear-
ing their young ; the food they eat, the
cries they uttered, and, in general, their
peculiar characteristics.

From these, Jack passed to other
birds, and carefully studied them also.
At last, he was pretty well acquainted
with the whole subject of birds ; and now
he observed several important things,
which I shall present to the attention of
my readers.

In the first place, Jack was struck
with admiration at the formation of
birds. They are designed to raise them-
selves in the air, and to spend a consid-
erable part of their time in that subtle
element. And how wonderfully adapt-
ed to this purpose are they ! In the first
place, a bird must have great strength,
and yet great lightness : and how hap-
pily are they united ! Look at the quill

of the wing how strong, and yet how
light ! Who could have invented any-
thing more admirably suited to rise on
the breeze and cut its way through the
air ? Is there a human being who could
make a single quill, even if the model
were placed before him ? Not one.

INQUISITIVE JACK.

131

And then look at the bones of the bird.
These, instead of being heavy as in quad-
rupeds, are all hollow. They are there-
fore a great deal lighter than those of
other animals, while they are equally
strong. And then, observe the structure
of the bird's skeleton. What a wonder-
ful and ingenious piece of machinery !
Look at the wing : how easily it opens
and shuts, and thus at once lifts the bird
upward, and drives it forward like an
arrow in its path. Look at the tail
destined, like the rudder of a ship, to di-
rect its course and how admirably it
is turned this way and that, quick as
thought, to guide the aerial voyager
even among the intricacies of the forest !

Consider the feathery covering of the
bird, designed to present a smooth sur-
face, so as not to cause interruption in
passing through the air, and to furnish a
coat as impervious to the water as India
rubber, yet light as the gossamer. How
wonderfully are these objects attained!
And now let us reflect upon the wisdom
of the Creator, in designing a class of
animals destined to soar aloft upon the
air, and His power in accomplishing His
purposes, as evinced in the structure of
birds. How many millions of these
beautiful creatures there are in the
world ! how diversified their structure,
habits and instincts ! and yet, let it be
remembered that man, with all his art,
cannot make a feather.

The music of birds is a very curious
and interesting phenomenon, not only
on account of the admirable variety and
sweetness of the songs they produce, but
for the strength of their voices. The
lowing of the bull, or the roaring of the
lion, cannot be heard at a great distance,

yet the little thrush can be heard half a
mile. If quadrupeds had voices equal
to those of birds, in proportion to their
size, an elephant could easily be heard
across the Atlantic ocean.

Spoonbill.

The variety in the forms of birds is a
subject of great interest. How different
is the duck, with its short legs, from the
spoonbill, which seems to be walking upon
stilts ; the common barn-door fowl, with
its short neck, from the flamingo, whose
neck is almost a yard in length, and not
half as thick as your wrist ! How dif-
ferent is an ostrich, which will carry a
boy upon its back, from the little hum-
ming-bird, which seems scarcely larger
than a humble-bee !

Who can look forth upon the land-
scape, and notice the feathered tribes,
glancing from tree to tree, and from bush
to bush, delighting the eye with their

132

INQUISITIVE JACK.

pleasing forms and lovely hues, and the I the heart with that aspect of life and
ear with their charming melody, and I cheerfulness, which they throw over the

Ostriches.

meadow, forest and field, and not lift up
his thoughts to heaven and say, " Oh
Lord, how manifold are thy works in
goodness and mercy hast thou made
them all!"

But I must not forget to say one thing
more about Jack in this chapter. While
he was studying the subject of birds, he
was very fond of getting young ones, so
that he might rear them ; he also caught

several old ones, which he kept in cages.
Now I believe that certain birds may be
happy in cages, such as canaries, and ma-
ny others, that are bred in confinement ;
but to catch wild birds and shut them
up, is treating the poor little creatures
very cruelly. I would not, therefore, be
thought to commend Jack's example in
this respect.

[To be continued.]

THE DESERTS OF AFRICA AND ASIA.

133

The Deserts of Africa and Asia,

IN Africa, as well as Asia, there are
immense tracts of land called deserts,
which consist of vast plains composed
of loose sand. Large portions of these
are utterly destitute of vegetation, and
sometimes, in crossing them, the travel-
ler sees not a hill, or mountain, or hu-
man dwelling, or even a tree or shrub,
or blade of grass. All around is a sea
of sand, and far as the eye can reach, it
is one scene of lifeless solitude and deso-
lation.

These trackless wastes are traversed
by caravans, which are companies of
travellers usually mounted upon camels.
Horses travel in these sands with diffi-
culty. Their feet sink in the soil ; they
are overcome with heat, and parched
with drought. The camel, on the con-
trary, has a large spongy foot, which

does not sink in the sand ; he can bear
excessive heat, and by a curious contri-
vance of nature, is enabled to go without
water for five or six days. This valua-
ble creature is called the ship of the
desert, because it enables the merchants
of Asia and Africa to transport their
merchandise over the sea of sand, just
as a ship carries goods from one part of
the world to another, across the briny
ocean. It seems really as if Providence
had provided this singular animal on
purpose to enable mankind to traverse
the great deserts which are spread out
upon the eastern continent.

The desert of Sahara stretches nearly
from the eastern to the western coast of
Africa, a distance of almost three thou-
sand miles. Its width is about eight
hundred miles. Its whole extent is

134

THE DESERTS OF AFRICA AND ASIA.

nearly equal to that of the United
States. This vast region, though for
the most part a scene of absolute desola-
tion, has a few spots where the water
collects in pools, around which some
vegetation springs up. These places,
which bear a delightful contrast to the
surrounding sterility, and cheer the eye
of the thirsty, weary traveller, are called
oases. Here the caravans quench their
thirst and repose in the delicious shadow
of the trees. The deserts of Arabia are
far less extensive, but they are of a simi-
lar character to that of Sahara.

It might seem that these inhospitable
regions would be deserted by man ; but
they are not only crossed by companies
of travellers who wish to pass from one
country to another, but by bands of wan-
dering Arabs, who spend their whole
lives upon these deserts. These are, for
the most part, desperate robbers. Thus,
the lonely desert has its pirates, as well
as the lonely sea. These thieves have
not only swift camels, but swift horses ;
and it is amazing to see how rapidly they
will speed over the sandy plains. They
come upon the traveller almost as sud-
denly as the hawk that descends from
the sky upon its unsuspecting prey, and
they disappear almost as suddenly.

It might seem that these inhabitants
of the desert would lead a miserable life,
and especially that they would often be
swallowed up in the terrific sand storms,
which sometimes sweep over these
wastes. The sand, being loose and dry,
is borne upward by the whirling tem-
pest, and is seen driving over the plain,
like a terrific thunder-cloud. The ex-
perienced traveller sees the coming dan-
ger, and prepares himself for it. He

throws himself upon the ground, and
covers his face so as not to be choked
with the dust. The horses and camels,
guided by instinct, also put their noses to
the earth to prevent being suffocated. If
the storm is slight, the party escapes ; but
sometimes, such immense waves of sand
are drifted upon the wind, as to bury the
traveller so deeply beneath it, as to make
it his winding-sheet forever. Sometimes
whole caravans, with their horses and
camels, have been in this manner over-
whelmed thus making the waves of the
desert as fatal as the waves of the sea.

Yet, despite the terrors of the desert,
the Arabs are a lively and cheerful race.
On their march, they stop at night; and
in their tents, spread beneath the starry
canopy, the laugh, the jest and the song
go round. There are among them pro-
fessed story-tellers, who delight the lis-
teners with fanciful tales of enchantment,
adventure, and love, or perhaps they re-
peat, in an animated manner, some fine
specimens of Arabic poetry. Thus it is,
that mankind, occupying the gloomiest
parts of the earth, have amusements.
As the steel is made to yield its spark,
so the Arab finds pleasure in the
desert.

THE MERRY KNIGHT. When Sir

Henry Marshal, knight and alderman of
London, received the honor of knight-
hood frpm George II., he fell flat upon
the floor. The king was surprised, but
on the knight rising up, he facetiously
said, " Your majesty has conferred so
much honor upon me, that I was not
able to stand up under it." His majesty
ever after called him the merry knight.

DICK BOLDHERO.

135

Dick Boldhero,

CHAPTER IV.

Various plantations droll and dangerous adven-
tures.

As I pursued my journey along the
banks of the Surinam, I met with
frequent plantations of coffee, sugar-
cane, cotton and cacao.
The sugar plantations, at a little dis-
tance, bear some resemblance to our
fields of Indian corn. The cane has a
broad, long leaf, with a jointed stalk or
stem. This grows to the height of seven
or eight feet, and is very smooth and

glossy. The sugar-cane is not propa-
gated by seeds, but by cuttings from the
root end of the stalk, which are planted
in rows or hills. It puts forth large
silky tassels, which have a beautiful ap-
pearance. In eighteen months from the
time of planting, it is fit to cut ; the
stalks are put into a mill, and from the
juice that is crushed out, sugar and mo-
lasses are made.

The labor of Guiana is almost wholly-
performed by negroes. During the peri-
od when they are making sugar, they
live almost wholly upon the juice of the

136

DICK BOLDHERO.

cane, and at that time, they are said to
get very fat. The laboring horses, oxen
and mules, though kept constantly at
work, being allowed to eat refuse stalks,
and scummings from the boiling-house,
thrive in the most surprising manner.

The cacao trees bear the fruit of
which chocolate is made. These re-
semble young cherry-trees, but separate
near the ground into four or five stems.
The leaves are about four inches long,
smooth, but not glossy, and of a dull
green color. The flowers are saffron-
colored, and very beautiful. The fruit
somewhat resembles a cucumber in
shape. Its color, while growing, is
green; but as it ripens, this changes
to a fine bluish red, with pink veins.

Each of the pods contains from twen-
ty to thirty nuts or kernels, which re-
semble almonds, and consist of a white
and sweet pulpy substance, enveloped in
a parchment-like shell. These are the
cacao or chocolate nuts. When the
fruit is ripe, it is gathered, and the nuts
are taken from the pods, and laid on
leaves or skins to dry. They are then
put into bags, each containing about a
hundred weight, and thus packed, are
exported to foreign countries.

I noticed, as I went along, a few fields
of Indian corn and rice, and I was in-
formed that two crops of these are fre-
quently obtained in a season. I observed
the castor-oil plant, growing wild, as
well as the cabbage-tree, which is a kind
of palm. This derives its name, not
from its appearance, but from the use to
which it is put by the inhabitants. The
leaves grow crowded together at the top
of the stem, and when these are cut off,
the central ones are found to be white

and tender, and when boiled, they are
used as a substitute for cabbage.

I occasionally met with small patches
of the indigo plant. This is cultivated
by seeds, which are sown in rows, about
a foot apart. In three months the top
part is cut off, leaving the roots to shoot
up anew. I used to suppose that indigo
was a kind of mineral, but I now learned
that it was made from these small plants.
The tops of the herbs being cut, as I
have mentioned, are steeped in vats.
They are then pounded and put in
water. The coloring matter, consisting
of a fine powder, forms a sediment,
which is cut into small pieces about an
inch square, before it is perfectly dry.
It is then packed in barrels, or sewed up
in sacks for sale. The process of mak-
ing indigo is very curious, and one
thing is strange : the plant itself is
harmless, but the indigo drug is a dead-
ly poison.

Although I had frequently a lonely
sort of feeling, as I pursued my way, and
sometimes wished that I was snug at
home with my mother and sister, I still
found it, on the whole, very pleasant to
travel in this strange land, and picked
up a good deal of information, and saw
many things that were quite rare and
wonderful to me. I was constantly im-
pressed with the strangeness of every-
thing around me. Instead of forests of
chestnut, walnut, and maple trees, so
common in Connecticut, I here saw for-
ests of gigantic mahogany, live oak, and
other curious trees, the names of which
I could not learn.

The birds, too, were all different from
those to which I had been accustomed.
The woods were all alive with flocks of

DICK BOLDHERO.

137

green parrots and red macaws, which
kept up a constant chatting. The latter
seemed perpetually scolding each other,
and I could sometimes fancy that they
were calling each other all the hard
names they could think of. I saw a
great many toucans, with bills half as
long as their bodies ; they kept bowing
their heads and making a kind of mo-
tion, like a minister in the pulpit.
Hence, the people call this bird the
preacher.

I saw a great many other birds, most
of which were adorned with magnifi-
cent plumage ; but they had harsh
voices, and were all very unlike my
feathered acquaintances in the " land of
steady habits." I once met with a wood-
pecker, which resembled the red-headed
thief, who spears so many of our cher-
ries with his long bill. He nodded his
head, and uttered a sort of cry, which
reminded me so strongly of home, that
the tears filled my eyes, and I paused
and partly turned about, for the pur-
pose of returning. But this weakness
was transient, and I soon pursued my
way.

My path now turned from the river,
and wound through a thick forest. It
was no longer a wagon-road, but a mere
mule-track. The weather continued
very hot, and I suffered excessively from
the bite of large gnats, three times as big
as our musquitoes. At first, I was half
crazy from the sting of these insects ;
but by degrees I became hardened, and
at last took it very quietly, even if one
of these impertinent rogues thrust his
little poisoned javelin into the point of
my nose. At night I slept soundly, al-
though these fellows feasted upon me

from the crown of my head to the tips
of my toes.

The forests through w'hich I was pro-
ceeding grew more and more dense as I
advanced ; many of the trees rose to an
immense height, and festoons of gray
moss swung from tree to tree, as if they
had been decorated by the hand of art.
Vines, with green leaves and gaudy
flowers, wreathed the trunks of the trees,
and parasitical plants, with blossoms
bright as gems, and of every color and
form, wound around their branches.
Nothing could surpass the gorgeous
splendor of the scene. It appeared as
if nature, in a sportive and fantastic
mood, had put forth every effort here to
combine the beautiful and the magnifi-
cent, in the vegetable kingdom. And
as if to captivate every sense, the air
was balmy, and the sweetest fragrance
was borne on the gentle breezes that
stole from the forest.

I was so much occupied with noticing
the curiosities that met me on every
hand, that I did not observe, till the sun
was setting, that my path had now
shrunk into little more than a deer-track,
and began to suspect that I had missed
my way ; and this impression was
strengthened by the fact that I did not
reach a negro settlement, where I had
expected to spend the night. I hesitated,
for a few moments, whether to proceed
or turn back. Resolving upon the for-
mer, I pushed on with rapid strides.
My path, however, grew more and more
undefined, and at last I was completely
lost in a bewildering maze. It was now
sunset, and the shadows of night had
begun to thicken around me. I attempt-
ed to retrace my steps, but could not re-

138

DICK BOLDHERO.

cover the path. Finding it hopeless to
attempt to extricate myself, I concluded
to pass the night where I was.

My situation was not a pleasant one.
I knew that these forests were the abodes
of wild animals, who shrunk from day-
light, yet prowled forth at night without
fear or restraint. But courage is apt to
come with necessity ; and seeing that
there was no help at hand, I sat down,
clenched my cudgel, and determined to
keep watch till morning. I remained in
this condition for some time, listening to
the strange sounds that began to steal
upon the ear as the evening advanced.
The day birds had gone to their repose,
and their various cries had gradually
faded into silence. But voices of a dif-
ferent kind now saluted me. Keptiles
of many kinds began their uncouth
songs, and droned away for hours to-
gether. Birds, known only to these soli-
tudes, and which, even here, were silent
during the day, now poured out their
music without fear. Never did I hear
such a jargon as seemed for a time to
fill the woods around me. I could easi-
ly fancy that strange and unearthly spir-
its filled the air, and were trying to see
what a variety of uncouth songs they
could produce.

I listened to these notes for a long
time, with a degree of painful excite-
ment. It seemed to me that a thousand
voices had united in one wild chorus, as
if to drive me mad. I stopped my ears
to keep out the din : I closed my eyes to
withdraw my attention from the scene
around me. At last, the sounds began
to subside, and darkness gradually gave
way, and I saw the moonbeams tinging
the tops of the trees. Silence stole over

the scene, and I fell into a profound re-
pose. My imagination wandered to the
scenes of my childhood. I was once
more, as I dreamed, with my mother
and my sister. They embraced me with
rapture, and tears of bliss fell upon my
cheeks. I remained with them for days,
and a tranquil joy filled my bosom. We
went to church, and once more I heard
the sacred hymn, and the soothing, sol-
emn tunes, which had become associated
with all my religious emotions.

The psalm was ended, and the preach-
er began his discourse. He seemed at
first a grave and reverend divine, holding
before him a ponderous volume, contain-
ing the sacred Scriptures. But suddenly
he seemed to change : his voice grew
harsh and shrieking ; his gestures became
wild and antastic, and at last he uttered
a hideous yell, and jumping out of his
pulpit, fell with a terrible crash upon the
two deacons who sat beneath. Start-
led and terrified, I suddenly awoke ; but
the scene which now arrested my atten-
tion, was even more extraordinary than
that which had been presented in my
dream.

At a little distance, was an open glade,
upon which the moonlight now fell with
a dazzling splendor. In the centre of
this spot there sat at least a hundred fig-
ures, which seemed to me to be men and
women, about half the size of life. Upon
a branch of a tree, which projected over
them, was another figure, who seemed
to be addressing the assembly. He ut-
tered the most extraordinary sounds, and
appeared to be speaking in a very ani-
mated manner. His gestures were
strong, quick, and emphatic. Sometimes
he sat upon his haunches, and sometimes

BILL AND THE BOYS.

139

he stood upright. Occasionally he leaped
from one branch of the tree to another?
and at times he swung off from his seat,
and suspended himself by his tail. This
last performance led me to conclude that
if this was a congregation of human be-
ings, they must be of rather a queer spe-
cies.

I sat still, and for a long time observed
the scene. Nothing could exceed the
seeming eloquence of the preacher, ex-
cept the sympathy and sensibility of the
audience. They appeared to feel every
tone and gesture, and responded by sym-
pathetic grunts, groans, yells, and every
possible variety of attitude and gesticu-
lation. At last, the orator, having ut-
tered a tremendous burst of eloquence,
leaped from his rostrum, and came with
a bound into the midst of the congrega-
tion. Upon this, they all set up a shout,
which echoed far and wide over the
scene.

I had become so interested in this
spectacle, that I had risen from my rest-
ing-place, and advanced so far as to be
near the actors in this curious drama.
One of them now chanced to spy me ;
upon which he uttered a terrific yell.
The eyes of the whole assembly were
turned upon me, and, uttering a frightful
howl, they all set out, and came bounding
toward me. Never in my life have I been
placed in a situation at once so ludicrous
and so appalling. A hundred monkeys
now surrounded me ; some mounting the
trees over my head, and some winding
among the bushes at my feet ; some
howling, and all grinning at me, and
making the most threatening demonstra-
tions.

Jtti*

Bill and the Boys,

The story of the lottery ticket, concluded.

E might have supposed that the
Trudges, being now rich, and hav-
ing attained what seemed the sum-
mit of Mrs. Trudge's ambition, were
perfectly happy. But this was far from
being the case. They lived in a fine
house, made a great dash, were admitted
into what is called good society, and fan-
cied that they were exciting the envy
and admiration of the whole town of
Buckwheat. But with all this show of
bliss, there were many drawbacks to
their felicity.

In the first place, as to Tom, or
Squire Trudge, as we must now call
him, he was a simple-minded, sensible
fellow, and but for the example and in-
fluence of his spouse, he had borne his
prosperity without intoxication. Indeed,
as it was, he behaved with considerable
propriety. He spoke to his neighbors, as
he met them, much as before, and when
he could get from under his wife's super-
vision, he would stop and chat familiarly
with old intimates. He demeaned him-
self modestly, and seemed little elated
with his good fortune. He was kind-
hearted, and ready to befriend the needy;
but still, he had many sources of vexa-
tion.

His restless helpmate insisted that he
should dress " as became his station ;"
and accordingly he was compelled to
wear tight shoes, which pinched his
corns terribly, and kept him in an almost
constant state of martyrdom. When he
walked abroad, he put his foot to the
ground as gingerly as if he were step-

140

BILL AND THE BOYS.

ping on eggs. He was required to have
his coat in the fashion, which trussed
him up about the arms, and made those
limbs stand out upon each side of him,
like a couple of pump-handles. His
neckcloth, of pure white, (as was the fash-
ion then,) was lined with what was called
a pudding ; and to please his dame, who
had a nice taste in these matters, he tied
it so tight that it threw the blood into
his face, and gave his ruddy complexion
a liver-colored hue.

Nor was this all poor Tom had to en-
dure. He was constantly "hatchelled"
as to his manners, somewhat after the
following fashion : " My dear Trudge,"
his wife would say to him, " do now try
to be a gentleman. Pray wipe your
nose with your pocket handkerchief, and
not with your fingers ! Turn your toes
out, man, or people will never forget that
you was once a pedler. Hold your
head up, step large, swing your arms
bravely, and seem to be somebody. In
short, pray do be genteel."

" Well, well, wife," Trudge would re-
ply; "I'll do as well as I can." The
dialogue would usually go on pretty
much as follows.

Mrs. T. Do as well as you can ! and
is that all you have to say for yourself?
Oh, dear, dear ! I 'm afraid I shall never
make nothin' on you. One can't make
a silk purse of a sow's ear, as Shak-
speare says. Oh, Tom, Tom, I wish
you had a little more jinnysyquaw !

Tom. Jinnysyquaw ! What the mis-
chiefs that?

Mrs. T. Just as if you didn't know
what jinnysyquaw was ! Oh, my dear
Tom ! you are as ignorant as the whip-
ping-post. Not know what jinnysyquaw

is ! Oh, dear, dear ! This comes of
not knowing French. Why, jinnysy-
quaw is a a a kind of something-
or-other that nobody knows nothing
about that is to say it is a kind of
can't-tell-ish-ness. For instance, if a per-
son has a very genteel air, they say,
" He's got the true jinnysyquaw." All
the people who have been to Paris talk a
great deal about it ; and I '11 tell you as a
secret, Tom Dick Flint whispered in
my ear, the other night at Mrs. Million's
party, and he told me I had the real
French jinuysyquaw ! Now, what do
you think of that ?

Tom. What do I think of it ! I think
he 's an impudent jackanapes, and you
are a !

Mrs. T. Hold your tongue, Tom
hold your tongue ! Dick Flint 's the
height of fashion : everybody is running
after him. He 's been abroad, sir yes,
he's been abroad, sir! That's more
than you can say for yourself. So, hold
your tongue, and listen to me. Try to
be a gentleman, as becomes your station.
Hold up your head, carry a stiff upper
lip, and keep up an important air. There
should always be about a person of con-
sequence, something which says, " Clear
the road, for Jam coming."

Tom. I suppose you mean the jinny-
syquaw.

This last observation was made by
Tom with a quizzical look, as if he was
poking fun at his spouse. But she took
it in good part, for she was too well sat-
isfied with herself to suspect that she
could be the object of ridicule.

We have thus given some idea of cer-
tain vexations which marred the happi-
ness of Squire Trudge. Nor was this

BILL AND THE BOYS.

141

the only evil of his lot. Though he had
a sort of impression that he was so rich
as to justify any degree of extravagance,
yet he was sometimes disturbed by the
sums of money which his ambitious wife
lavished upon her follies.

Nor was that lady wholly without her
annoyances, however she might seem to
be floating upon a sea of bliss. She
could not but feel the superiority of Mrs.
Million, who was a woman of talent and
education, and the only mode she had to
supply her own deficiency, was to excel
her rival in dash and splendor. Accor-
dingly, she had fine horses and a splen-
did carriage. She gave parties, at
which there was always an abundant
feast. She appeared in the most costly
dresses, and carried every fashion to its
height.

While she affected to despise and hate
Mrs. Million, she imitated her in every-
thing. At last, she became so complete
a caricature of that fashionable dame,
that everybody discovered the ridiculous
resemblance. Mrs. Million, far from be-
ing flattered by seeing such a grotesque
reflection of herself, was infinitely more
vexed at the involuntary homage thus
rendered by Bridget, than she could
have been by her envy and spleen.

A new fancy now crept into the brain
of our heroine. Mrs. Million had just
got a piano from New York, and, as it
was the only one in the town, and a
great rarity in those days, it excited
quite a sensation among the fashionable
circles of Buckwheat. Perceiving this,
and determined to be behind in nothing,
Bridget resolved to get one, and a much
more splendid one than Mrs. Million's.
Accordingly, the following conversation

ensued between herself and Tom the
next morning.

Mrs. T. My dear Mr. Trudge, I
wish you had been at Mrs. Million's
last night. She's got the beautifullest
pianny in her parlor that you ever see.
Now I want you to send to New York
for one for me, and I want to have the
beautifullest that can be got.

Tom. What 's the use of sending to
New York ? Can't you get one here ?

Mrs. T. Get one here, indeed ! not a
bit of it. Beside, nothing will do but
one all the way from New York.

Tom. Well, well ! I '11 see about it.

Mrs. T. Well, let it be here on
Thursday, for my sorry that 's a good
man !

Here the conversation ended, and, on
the appointed day, a huge tub, set on
wheels, and painted green, was brought
from New York, and trundled into the
front entry of the Trudges. The tub
contained a splendid group of peonies, in
full bloom.

"What have you got there?" said
Mrs. Trudge to her husband, who was
standing by. " Why, the pianny, to be
sure," says Tom. " The pianny! " said
his wife, throwing up her hands ; " the
pianny ! What a ridiculous blunder !
Oh, Tom, Tom, you '11 break my heart !
You 've no more hedication than a
heath-hen. I axed you to get me a pi-
anny, and you have got me a pianny."

Here Mrs. Trudge sobbed aloud, and
it was a' long time before poor Mr.
Trudge could be made to understand
the mistake he had made. He was at
last compelled to order the piano, even
though it cost four hundred dollars, and
he considered the peace with his wife,

142

BILL AND THE BOYS.

which he thus purchased, to have been
cheaply obtained.

Another vexation which Mrs. Trudge
experienced, arose from her servants.
Sometimes she was familiar, sometimes
imperious and tyrannical. She there-
fore secured neither the respect nor af-
fection of those around her. She was
accordingly accustomed to indulge in
the fashionable outcry against her
" kelp."

An incident which throws some light
upon this topic, it may be worth while
to relate. Mrs. Million had recently
introduced bells into her house, and
Bridget followed suit. The servants
conceived a dislike to being thus sum-
moned into the presence of their mistress.
It struck them not only as an innovation,
but as a rude and harsh mode of calling
them. Mrs. Trudge's manner was not
calculated to allay this aversion, for
while the bells were being put up, she
seemed to assume a loftier tone than
usual.

When they were at last arranged, she
attired herself in a splendid satin dress,
took a bottle of hartshorn, reclined luxu-
riously upon a sofa, and then pulled the
bell-rope, which was near. She waited
a little, but no one came at the sum-
mons. She pulled again, but there was
no answer. At last, she gave the cord
an imperious twitch, which nearly sun-
dered the wires. In a few seconds, the
chambermaid popped her head in at the
door, and said spitefully to her mistress,
" You may pull and pull till you are
gray, Miss Trudge ; the more you ring,
the more I won't come."

Such were some of the vexations
which disturbed the brilliant career of

our heroine. There were others, also,
and even those of a more serious char-
acter. But she still pressed forward in
her course of ambition. She seemed
indeed to be always in a flurry, and to
keep everybody around her in a con-
stant state of uneasy excitement. She
was indeed never happy for a moment,
and seemed ever to be tormented with the
desire of chasing a phantom she could
never obtain. If, indeed, she had any
enjoyments, they consisted only of the
fleeting pleasures which characterize lit-
tle minds the idea that she was exci-
ting the envy and admiration of those
around her.

Thus affairs proceeded for several
years, but, at last, a crisis came. The
extravagance of the family not only ex-
hausted the whole of Trudge's fortune,
but ran him in debt. His creditors came
upon him, and as he could not meet
their demands, he was declared a bank-
rupt. The event found Mrs. Trudge
upon the full tide of fashionable dissipa-
tion. She was struck like a bird in
mid flight. She could not, and would
not at first, believe the melancholy ti-
dings. It was, alas ! too true, and she
was compelled to submit to her cruel
fate.

With scarcely a shilling in his pocket,
and only a few necessary articles of fur-
niture which his creditors had allowed
him, poor Tom set out with his wife and
children to return to the little brown
dwelling, which he had occupied before
his drawing the prize. They were
obliged to go on foot, and as Bridget pro-
ceeded down the nicely-gravelled walk,
thus taking leave of her splendid man-
sion forever, she felt a keener pang than

ANECDOTE OF A TIGER.

143

can be well uttered in words. She was
indeed the very image of despair. Her
pride was humbled her prospects blight-
edher heart broken. Tom led the way,
and though he felt for his wife and chil-
dren, there was a remarkable aspect of
cheerfulness in his countenance.

The party at length arrived at their
dwelling. It seemed so desolate and bare,
that for two or three days Bridget seemed
utterly crushed. Tom treated her with
great tenderness, and, at the same time,
kept up a cheerful air. In a few days,
Bridget's good sense and energy of char-
acter prevailed. She entered upon her
duties, and before a fortnight had passed,
she seemed not only resigned to her fate,
but absolutely content. Tom whistled,
and danced, and said that he was ten
times happier than when he lived in the
great house. He could now wear an
easy old coat, and shoes that did not
pinch his corns. Beside, he had been
weary of the idle life he had led, and he
now entered upon his old trade as a ped-
ler, with pleasure and alacrity. The
children soon became accustomed to the
change, and, in less than three months
after their downfall, Tom and his wife
both agreed that they were happier in
their brown house than they ever had
been in the big mansion.

" Style and splendor may do for those
who are brought up to it," said Tom;
"but, after all, the comfort and content
of the cottage are much better. Don't
you think so, Bridget ? "

"Yes, Tom, I do indeed," said the
spouse.

Tom. It 's almost equal to the jinny-
syquaw, an't it, Bridget ?

Mrs. T. Hold your tongue, Tom !

ANECDOTE OF A TIGER. One day a sin-
gular circumstance took place in a men-
agerie near London, which shows the
retentive memory of the tiger. A sailor,
who had been strolling round the exhibi-
tion, loitering here and there to admire the
animals, was attracted by a strange noise,
made by a tiger, who seemed irritated be-
yond endurance. Jack, somewhat alarm-
ed, sought the keeper to inquire the cause
of so singular a display of feeling, which,
he remarked, became more boisterous, the
nearer he approached the animal. The
keeper replied, that the behavior of the
tiger indicated that he was either vastly
pleased, or very much annoyed. Upon
this, the sailor again approached the den,
and gazed at the tiger a few minutes,
during which time the animal became
frantic with seeming rage, lashing his
tail against his sides, and giving utter-
ance to the most frightful bellowings. He
soon discovered the tiger to be one that he
had, not long before, brought to England,
and which had been his especial care.

It now was Jack's turn to be delighted,
as it appears the tiger was, in thus recog-
nizing his old friend ; and, after making
repeated applications to be permitted to
enter the den, for the purpose, he said, of
" shaking a fist" with the beautiful ani-
mal, he was suffered to do so. The iron
door was opened, and in jumped Jack, to
the delight of himself and his striped
friend, and the astonishment of the look-
ers-on. The affection of the animal was
now shown by caressing and licking the
pleased sailor, whom he seemed to wal-
come with the heartiest satisfaction ; and
when the honest tar left the den, the an-
guish of the poor animal seemed almost
insupportable.

144

MISS PAPPOO.

Miss Pappoo,

HERE she is Miss Pappoo all the
way from New Guinea a specimen
of humanity which shows the lovely,
fascinating, bewitching effect of an
exuberant quantity of hair. It is all
her own, too ! not purchased at Gilbert's,
nor forced by beef marrow, antique oil,
bear's grease, or Macassar ointment!
No ; it is pure, genuine nature.

It may be that there are some persons
who cannot appreciate the loveliness of
Miss Pappoo's locks ; but every day, we
see in our streets, certain young and
middle-aged men, who strike us as kin-
dred spirits. They possess long, tan-

gled locks, and an immense quantity of
beard, covering each side of the face, the
throat, and the chin. Sometimes it is
permitted also to cover the upper lip.
This bushy beard gives to a man the
somewhat simpering aspect of an old
goat ; but still, it would seem that many
of our beaux are delighted at making
such a figure. Their great desire seems
to be to run to hair.

It is to be remarked that in general
these excessively whiskered gentry have
low crowns, and of course a small quan-
tity of brains, and probably the little they
have is of rather an inferior quality.

THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER.

145

Still, they seem satisfied, nay, delighted
conceited even if they can make up
this deficiency with an enormous quan-
tity of bristles growing out of their
chins.

To all such persons, we present Miss
Pappoo, not doubting that there will be a
sympathy a fellow-feeling between her
and them. They truly can appreciate a
character so eminently distinguished for
hair. She is a native of the great island
of Papua, or New Guinea, lying in the
Pacific Ocean, near New Holland. She
is dressed in the highest fashion of her

country, and doubtless would pass for a
belle of the first order there.

Now, if any of our whisketed coun-
trymen, impelled by a fellow-feeling for
Miss Pappoo, are desirous of a nearer
acquaintance, we will do what we can
to bring about an introduction between
them and the fair Papuan. Let the let-
ters of all applicants be written upon pink
paper, perfumed with the otto of roses,
marked on the outside with Cupid's bow,
and contain a specimen of the appli-
cant's whiskers.

COSMOPOLITE.

The Old Man in the Corner,

NO. V.

FABLES.

HE must not be too much captivated
with the deeds of those called
great. It often happens that their
victories and triumphs over others
are obtained by unfair means ; their suc-
cesses are frequently purchased by mean-
ness and treachery ; and thus it is that,
if we could see the truth even beneath
their rays of glory, we should sometimes
be taught to despise, rather than applaud
their actions. The fable that follows
may throw some light upon this subject.

THE GOLDEN SHIELD.

There was once a famous knight, who
went forth in search of adventures.
Now, he was a great coward and knave,
but he got himself a shield of burnished
gold, and so brilliant was it, that every
eye was dazzled which looked upon it.

VOL. VII. 10

When he met another knight, instead
of giving him fair and honorable fight,
he used to ride near him, and then slyly
and unawares, would stab him with a
dirk. His enemy would fall murdered
to the ground, but the people, being daz-
zled by the glittering armor, would cry
out, " Victory and honor to the knight of
the golden shield ! "

VANITY.

This folly or vice usually belongs to
the weak and the idle those who do
little good to others, and are mostly oc-
cupied in thinking of themselves. Van-
ity is generally large and strong in pro-
portion to the littleness of the individual
who exercises it : one who is its victim,
is incapable of judging of things rightly ;
even in the presence of what is great
and sublime, he is blind to everything

146

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

except his important self. Hear the
story of the

GRASSHOPPER AND THUNDER-CLOUD.

Upon the top of a mullen-stalk, sat a
grasshopper, who thus complacently sang
of himself:

Was ever seen, in earth or air,
As my sweet self, a thing so fair?
My coat is made of shining green,
My little wings are glossy sheen,
My form is such as fairies love,
My motions those that mark the dove ;
But oh ! my voice, so soft and low,
No music can so sweetly flow.
The thrush is silent when I sing
The linnet stays on balanced wing
The oak doth hush its whispering leaves,
No more its web the spider weaves,
The rill and river cease their roar,
And all around confess my power,
E'en yonder passing thunder-cloud
Pauses to hear, though yet so proud !

While the grasshopper thus indulged
its strain of self-conceit, a bolt of light-
ning fell upon an oak near by, and shat-
tered its trunk into a thousand splinters.
One of them struck the mullen-stalk,
and the vain insect was crushed in an
instant.

Pictures of Various Nations,

CHAPTER V.

I COULD tell you a great deal more
about the Indians, especially of the
Cherokees, Creeks, Chickasaws, and
other tribes, which have been re-
moved by the government of the United
States to a fine country northwest of
Louisiana, where they have schools and
churches, and cultivate their lands, and

live much like white people. But I am
afraid I am making too long a story. I
shall, therefore, tell you something of
certain queer tribes that seem to be a
mixture of the American Indian and Es-
quimaux, and then proceed to other coun-
tries.

NOOTKA SOUND.

Let us cross to the western side of the
continent of America. Here, far to the
northwest, we find Nootka Sound, which
is a bay in the Pacific Ocean, discovered
by captain Cook, in 1778. Around this
bay live a set of people, who in some
respects differ from the North American
Indians, though they have many traits in
common with them.

On board one of the vessels which
first entered Nootka Sound, in 1778, was
John Ledyard, one of our own country-
men. He resided in Hartford some time
after his return, where he wrote an ac-
count of his voyage. That account I
have seen, and in it he speaks of the in-
habitants who live round the Sound.

He says that the people there resem-
ble the Indians on this side of the Rocky
Mountains. They are tall, robust, and
well made ; but in this last respect, they
do not equal the Indians farther east.
Some of the women, however, appeared
quite handsome.

They have large and full faces, high
and prominent cheek bones, small and
black eyes, broad and flat noses, thick
lips, and teeth of the most brilliant white-
ness. They fill their hair with oil, paint,
and the down of birds. They also paint
their faces with red, blue, and white col-
ors. They look odd enough.

Some accounts represent them to be a

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

147

quiet, peaceable people ; but others say
that they are bold and ferocious. They
give some evidence of being rather a
wise people, they do not talk much ;
but, perhaps, it is because they have not
many ideas. This last, I think, is true,
for they have no books, and no means of
knowing much.

I am sorry to add, that they are said
to be cannibals ; that is, they eat human
flesh. Ledyard saw, when he was there,
not only human skulls and bones for
sale ; but, also, human flesh ready cooked.
This made the sailors shudder, and well
it might.

The only inhabited parts of the Sound
are two villages, containing about two
thousand people. Their houses are
made of very long and broad plank,
resting upon the edges of each other,
fastened together by means of withes,
and supported by posts.

As you enter one of their houses,
you find benches raised on the sides of
the room. These are covered with mats,
upon which the family sit and sleep.
The fireplace is in the middle of the
floor, but they have neither hearth nor
chimney.

They have very fine furs ; and when
Captain Cook was there, he purchased
some, not thinking they were very val-
uable, but when he arrived in China,
he sold skins, which cost but sixpence,
for a hundred dollars. Since Captain
Cook's time, many vessels have been to
Nootka Sound after furs, and made their
voyages very profitable.

I will only add, that Nootka Sound
lies west of Boston, about three thousand
miles. But should any of my readers
ever go thither, they will probably go by

water. In this case, if they sail from
New York, they will proceed south
along the American coast, round Cape
Horn, and then north to the Sound.
The voyage will take them about five
months, and they will sail not less than
fifteen thousand miles.

ONALASKA.

Before we return to the eastern side
of the continent, we must notice the peo-
ple who inhabit the Fox Islands, the
largest of which is called Onalaska.
This island lies in the Pacific Ocean, at
some distance from the peninsula of
Alaska, as you may perceive by looking
on a map.

This island, also, was first discovered
by Captain Cook, in 1778. The inhab-
itants here are described as being in
stature about middle size, with full
round faces, flat noses, black eyes and
hair, but no beard ; for this they pluck
out by the roots as soon as it begins to
grow. Their skin is quite dark, but is
rendered still more so by the manner in
which they live.

The inhabitants appear to be good-na-
tured and benevolent ; but if their anger
is once roused, it is not easily allayed.
Their common dress, in rainy weather,
is a garment, made of the entrails of the
sea-dog. This secures them against the
rain. In dry and cold weather, they
wear a garment made of feathers, curi-
ously sewed together, and which costs a
person sometimes a whole year's labor.
Their hats are made of wood, and very
much resemble an umbrella.

They are quite fond of ornaments,
particularly beads, and small ivory fig-
ures cut from the teeth of the sea-cow,

148

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

and with the bristles of the sea-lion's
beard all of which they put upon their
hats. The women ornament themselves
with rings upon their fingers, and with
belts of glass beads upon their wrists and
ankles.

The houses in which they dwell are
large holes, dug in the ground, and cov-
ered with a roof, over which earth is
thrown, and grass grows upon it. In
the centre of the roof a hole is cut.
This is all the door, window, and chim-
ney which they have. They enter the
house, and go out of it, by means of an
upright post, with pins in it. Their
habitations are generally filthy places.
They are filled with the smoke of burnt
oil, which they use for light and cook-
ing. They live principally upon fish
and sea-dogs.

The canoes of these people .are very
ingenious. They build a wooden frame,
which they cover with sea-dogs' skins.
They are light, and are pushed forward
in the water with amazing rapidity.

CANADA.

It is a long distance from the island
of Onalaska to Canada ; but as we travel,
we are soon there. Canada now belongs
to Great Britain, and there are many
English, Scotch and Irish people resi-
dent there ; but it was first settled by the
French, and there are more French than
there are English. Some Americans,
also, have settled there, for the purpose
of trade.

The English and American inhabit-
ants of Canada are intelligent and pol-
ished people, resembling the higher class-
es in England and America. These live
principally in the large towns and cities.

The common people, or true Cana-
dians, are French. They speak the
French language ; but it has lost much
of its purity. Few among them know
how either to read or write. They are,
however, quite an honest, hospitable, and
inoffensive people. They are very poor ;
and no wonder they are so, for they are
a very lazy people. They seem to have
few wants, and to be quite happy, and
contented with their condition. Within
a few years they have improved some-
what; but it will be a long time before
they make much advance.

At an early period of life, the Cana-
dian is healthy and robust ; but he soon
looks old and sallow, owing to his ex-
posure to the weather, and the toils of
the field. This is also true of the wo-
men, many of whom are quite hand-
some when young ; but they soon fade.
Both men and women frequently live,
however, to advanced age.

Canada is a cold country. The win-
ters are long and severe. The inhab-
itants protect themselves when they go
abroad, by means of furs, in which they
envelop themselves. They travel, dur-
ing the cold season, in a kind of sledge,
or open carriage, called a cariole. In
these, they glide over deep snows and
frozen rivers, with surprising celerity.

At the beginning of winter, the farm-
ers, who are called habitants, kill hogs,
cattle, and poultry, sufficient to serve
them till spring, as well as to supply the
markets. The carcasses they store in
their garrets, where they soon become
frozen, and keep without injury ; or they
bury them, and dig them out as wanted.
Vegetables are preserved in a similar
manner. The French Canadians are

A CHINESE DANDY.

149

chiefly Roman Catholics ; the other in-
habitants are of various sects.

I DON'T WANT TO GO ! A curious inci-
dent occurred near Paris, not long since,
in consequence of a balloon starting on
its own hook, without the consent of the
proprietor. A large concourse of peo-
ple had assembled to see an aeronaut
take flight for the regions of upper air,
but, unfortunately, before he took his
seat in the car, the aerostat got loose, and
the grappling-hook, which was dangling

from the machine, hitched into the inde-
scribables of a boy, who was gazing,
open-mouthed, at the ascending mass,
and carried him up willy-nilly.

The women screamed and fainted, but
the lad, who seemed to have been a hero
in his way, clasped the rope tightly with
his hands and his feet, and, with an aw-
ful rent in his aforesaids, was introduced
by his inflated companion into the upper
circles. After a short voyage, the bal-
loon descended, and deposited the little
fellow safe and sound on the firm earth.

A Chinese Dandy,

THE following description of a Chinese
exquisite, is from a new work on
China, by P. Dobel, formerly Rus-
sian Consul to China, and a resident
in that country for seven years :

" His dress is composed of crapes and
silks of great price, his feet are covered
with high-heeled boots of the most beau-

tiful Nankin satin, and his legs are en-
cased in gaiters, richly embroidered, and
reaching to the knee. Add to this an
acorn-shaped cap of the latest taste, an
elegant pipe, richly ornamented, in which
burns the purest tobacco of the Fokien,
an English watch, a toothpick suspended
to a button by a string of pearls, a Nan-

150

A THRILLING NARRATIVE.

kin fan, exhaling the perfume of the
tcholane, (a Chinese flower,) and you
will have an exact idea of a fashionahle
Chinese.

" The Chinese dandy, like dandies of
all times and all countries, is seriously
occupied with trifles. He belongs either
to the Quail Club or the Cricket Club.
Like the ancient Romans, the Chinese
train quails, quarrelsome birds, intrepid
duellists, whose combats form the sub-
ject of senseless wagers. In imitation
of the rich, the poorer Chinese place at
the bottom of an earthen basin, two field
crickets. These insects they excite and
provoke, until they grow angry, attack
each other, and the narrow field of battle
is soon strewed with their claws, an-
tennaB and corselets.

" There is between the Chinese and
the old Romans as great a difference as
there is between the combats of the
crickets and the terrible combats of the
gladiators."

A Thrilling Narrative,

tHE town of St. Etienne, in the depart-
ment of the Loire, has acquired, by
its manufactures of iron and silk, the
appellation of the Birmingham and
Coventry of France. Though very far
from contemptible, it is however, at most,
only a miniature likeness of the two cel-
ebrated towns to which it is compared.
For its prosperity, it is indebted to the
circumstance of iron oar and coal being
abundant in its vicinity. Among the coal
mines in its immediate neighborhood, is
that of Bois Monzil, the scene of the
event which is now to be described.

On the 2d of February, 1831, about
eight in the morning, when there were
twenty-six men at work, a sudden deto-
nation was heard, instantly followed by
the roar of water, rushing from the ad-
joining pit. The cry of alarm was
quickly spread through the mine, but
only ten of the laborers were able to
reach the entrance. One of them was
driven forward with such violence, by
the condensed air and the torrent, that
his escape was miraculous ; another was
so terrified, that he hurried forward,
without thinking to disencumber him-
self of a sack of coals which he had upon
his shoulders ; a third, who possessed
both presence of mind and humanity,
snatched up a boy of eleven years old
and bore him away in his arms.

Eight individuals perished. Some of
them were swept away by the deluge
but at least one of them had to endure a
lingering death. He was heard for some
hours knocking against the sides of his
prison ; at the end of that time the
knocking ceased the flood had over-
whelmed him. The remaining eight
workmen were fortunate enough to
reach a gallery on a higher level ; but,
as it had no other outlet than that by
which they entered, their fate was cer-
tain, unless the water should recede, or
their friends could open a passage
through the rock beneath them.

On hearing of the accident, the engi-
neers of the mine hastened with their
assistants to the spot. Thirty hours
elapsed before the miners could pene-
trate into some of the lower galleries
from which the water had retired. They
repeatedly called aloud to their lost com-
panions, but no voice was heard in reply.

A THRILLING NARRATIVE.

151

They then struck with their pickaxes
upon the roof, and after several fruitless
trials, they were rejoiced to hear an
equal number of answering knocks.

Measures were immediately adopted
for opening a communication with the
imprisoned men ; the principal of them
were the boring a hole through the rock,
in the supposed direction whence the
sound came, and the forming of an in-
clined tunnel. But there was much dif-
ficulty in ascertaining the point to which
they ought to direct their efforts ; for the
sound of their blows on the roof, far from
offering a certain criterion, or at least a
probable one, seemed each time to excite
fresh doubts. The rock, too, was so hard
and thick, that the gunpowder employed
in blasting it produced but a trifling ef-
fect ; nor could the pumps be got to work,
and they were therefore obliged to resort
to the slow and incompetent method of
forming a line of men from the gallery
to the mouth of the mine, and passing
the buckets from hand to hand.

The persons who were thus employed,
had to work upon a rapid slope, in a
crouching posture, with the water drop-
ping all round them, and generally ris-
ing up to the middle of their bodies.
They had to endure that which was still
worse to men not devoid of humanity.
The wives of the hapless miners had
heard that all hope was not extinct, and
they hastened to the spot. With heart-
rending cries, and shedding tears alter-
nately of despair and hope, they ex-
claimed, " Are they all there ? Where
is the father of my children? Is he
amongst them, or has he been swallowed
up by the waters ? "

When it became known at St. Etienne

and its vicinity, that there was a pros-
pect of saving a part of the victims, the
whole of the National Guards, and sev-
eral hundreds of miners and other per-
sons, thronged to lend their assistance.
The pumps were now got to work, and
the line of men with buckets was conse-
quently discontinued. Yet, notwithstand-
ing the number of additional hands, the
work proceeded but slowly. Such was
the flinty hardness of the rock, that fre-
quently the tools either broke, or re-
mained immovably fixed in the stone.
The water also filtered in rapidly through
the perforation which they were making,
and seemed to threaten another irruption.

It was now Sunday, and the spirits of
the workmen began to flag. On the
following day an alarming incident oc-
curred which spread a general panic.
A terrific noise was heard, which was
prolonged in echoes throughout the mine.
When their terror had sufficiently sub-
sided to allow of their investigating its
cause, they found that an enormous mass
of rock had fallen into one of the drain-
ing wells. Though this fall was attend-
ed by no bad consequences, the work-
men were so much disheartened by it,
that it required much management to
bring them back to their labors, and re-
vive their courage and perseverance.

By dint of persuasion and argument,
the superintendents at length prevailed
on the men to make a vigorous effort.
In a very short time, that effort was
crowned with success. The instrument
of one of the miners penetrated into the
shut-up gallery, and was drawn from his
hands by the poor imprisoned miners.
But the man who had thus been the first
to open a way into their dungeon, was

152

A THRILLING NARRATIVE.

still more unfortunate than they were.
At the moment when hope dawned to
them, it set forever to him. He was the
father of one of the men who had disap-
peared in the mine. His paternal feel-
ings seemed to have endowed him with
superhuman strength. Night and day he
quitted his work only for a few minutes
to return to it with redoubled vigor.

One absorbing thought occupied his
whole soul ; the idea that his son, his
only son, was with those who were heard
from within. In vain he was solicited
to retire ; in vain they strove to force
him from labors too fatiguing for his
age. " My son is among them," said
he ; "I hear him ; nothing shall prevent
me from hastening his release;" and
from time to time he called on his son,
in accents that tore the hearts of the by-
standers. His first question, on the in-
strument being drawn from his hand,
was, " My child ! " His Antoine was
no more ; he had been drowned.

For four days, medical men had been
present in the mine, to be ready to give
their aid, as soon as a passage should be
opened. They now directed soup to be
introduced through a tube, and air to be
forced into the gallery by means of bel-
lows. Food was, however, by no means
the most urgent want of the captives ;
light was what they first and most press-
ingly requested. A tinder-box was con-
veyed to them, but the vitiated air of their
dungeon rendered it of no use. At first,
they seemed to be strengthened by the
soup, of which they had made their old-
est and weakest companions the earliest
partakers ; but afterwards it had a con-
trary effect. They therefore for the
present rejected the nourishment which

was occasionally supplied, and expressed
but one wish, which was that their
friends would make haste. Yet one at
least there was, who had not lost all his
gaiety. This was a man, named Fe-
reol. When he was asked what day he
thought it was, he replied, " Sunday ;"
and upon being told it was Monday, he
rejoined, " Ah, I ought to have known
that for yesterday we indulged our-
selves by tippling freely of water."

But though some of them retained
their cheerfulness, the strength of all was
rapidly failing. Their utterance grew
gradually more faint ; and about six in
the evening, the last words that could be
distinguished were, " Brothers, make
haste." By ten in the evening, they
had broken through sixteen feet of solid
rock, and liberated the captives. Look-
ing more like spectres than human be-
ings, the miners, one by one, slowly
traversed the gallery, and emerged into
open air, which they had so recently
almost despaired of ever breathing again.
From the mouth of the mine to the tem-
porary residence allotted them, the whole
way was illuminated. The engineers,
the pupils, and the workmen, with the
National Guard under arms, were drawn
up in two lines to form a passage ; and
thus, in the midst of a religious silence,
did these poor fellows traverse an atten-
tive and sympathizing crowd, who, as
they passed along, inclined their heads,
as a sort of respect and honor to their
sufferings.

GENEROSITY is a pleasant, agreeable,
fascinating virtue ; justice is more stern,
but must be regarded as the higher vir-
tue of the two.

DEMOSTHENES.

155

energy and strength of will, are too cele-
brated and too remarkable to be omitted,
though the authority on which they rest
is not free from doubt. He built a room
under ground, where he might practise
gesture and delivery without molesta-
tion, and there he spent two or three
months together, shaving his head that
the oddity of his appearance might ren-
der it impossible for him to go abroad,
even if his resolution should fail. The
defect in his articulation he cured by
reciting with small pebbles in his mouth.
His lungs he strengthened by practising
running up hill, while reciting verses.
Nor was he less diligent in cultivating
mental, than bodily requisites, applying
himself earnestly to study the theory of
the art, as explained in books, and the
examples of the greatest masters of elo-
quence. Thucydides is said to have
been his favorite model, insomuch that
he copied out his history eight times',
and had it almost by heart.

Meanwhile, his pen was continually
employed in rhetorical exercises ; every
question suggested to him by passing
events served him for a topic of discus-
sion, which called forth the application
of his attainments to the real business of
life. It was perhaps as much for the
sake of such practice, as with a view to
reputation, or the increase of his fortune,
that he accepted employment as an advo-
cate, which, until he began to take an
active part in public affairs, was offered
to him in abundance.

Such was the process by which he
became confessedly the greatest orator
among the people by whom eloquence
was cultivated, as it has never been since
by any nation upon earth. He brought

it to its highest state of perfection, as did
Sophocles the tragic drama, by the har-
monious union of excellences which had
before only existed apart. The quality
in his writings which excited the highest
admiration of the most intelligent critics
among his countrymen, in the later crit-
ical age, was the Protean versatility with
which he adapted his style to every
theme, so as to furnish the most perfect
examples of every order and kind of
eloquence.

Domosthenes, like Pericles, never wil-
lingly appeared before his audience with
any but the ripest fruits of his private
studies, though he was quite capable of
speaking on the impulse of the moment
in a manner worthy of his reputation.
He continued to the end of his career
to cultivate the art with unabated dili-
gence, and even in the midst of pub-
lic business, his habits were known to
be those of a severe student.

The first manifestation of that just
jealousy of Philip, the ambitious king
of Macedon, which became the leading
principle of his life, was made B. C. 352,
when the orator delivered the first of
those celebrated speeches called Philip-
pics. The word has been naturalized
in Latin and most European languages,
as a concise term to signify indignant
invective.

From this time forward, it was the
main object of Demosthenes to inspire
and keep alive in the minds of the
Athenians a constant jealousy of Phil-
ip's power and intentions, and to unite
the other states of Greece in confederacy
against him. The policy and the disin-
terestedness of his conduct have both
been questioned; the former, by those

156

DEMOSTHENES.

who have judged, from the event, that
resistance to the power of Macedonia
was rashly to accelerate a certain and
inevitable evil ; the latter, by those, both
of his contemporaries and among pos-
terity, who believe that he received
bribes from Persia, as the price of
rinding employment in Greece for an
enemy, whose ambition threatened the
monarch of the East. With respect to
the former, however, it was at least the
most generous policy, and that of the
elder Athenians in their most illustrious
days, not to await the ruin of their in-
dependence submissively, until every
means had been tried for averting it;
for the latter, such charges are hard
either to be proved or refuted. The
character of Demosthenes certainly does
not stand above the suspicion of pecu-
niary corruption, but it has not been
shown, nor is it necessary or probable to
suppose, that his jealousy of Philip of
Macedon was not in the first instance
far-sighted and patriotic. During four-
teen years, from 352 to 338, he ex-
hausted every resource of eloquence and
diplomatic skill to check the progress of
that aspiring monarch ; and whatever
may be thought of his moral worth, none
can undervalue the genius and energy,
which have made his name illustrious,
and raised a memorial of him far more
enduring than sepulchral brass.

In 339, B. C., Philip's appointment to
be general of the Amphyctionic League
gave him a more direct influence than
he had yet possessed ; and in the same
year, the decisive victory of Cheronea,
won over the combined forces of Thebes,
Athens, &c., made him master of Greece.
Demosthenes served in this engagement,

but joined early in the flight, with cir-
cumstances, according to report, of
marked cowardice and disgrace. He
retired for a time from Athens, but the
cloud upon his character was but tran-
sient; for shortly after he was entrusted
with the charge of putting the city in a
state of defence, and was appointed to
pronounce the funeral oration over those
who had been slain. After the battle of
Cheronea, Philip, contrary to expecta-
tion, did not prosecute hostilities against
Athens ; on the contrary, he used his
best endeavors to conciliate the affec-
tions of the people, but without success ;
the party hostile to Macedon soon re-
gained the superiority, and Demosthe-
nes was proceeding with his usual
vigor in the prosecution of his political
schemes, when news arrived of the mur-
der of Philip, in July, 336.

The daughter of Demosthenes had then
lately died ; nevertheless, in violation of
national usage, he put off his mourning,
and appeared in public crowned with
flowers, and with other tokens of festive
rejoicing. This act, a strong expres-
sion of triumph over the fall of a most
dangerous enemy, has been censured
with needless asperity ; the accusation
of having been privy to the plot for Phi-
lip's murder beforehand, founded on his
own declaration of the event some time
before intelligence of it came from any
other quarter, and the manifest false-
hood as to the source of the information,
which he professed to derive from a
divine revelation, involves, if it be judged
to be well founded, a far blacker impu-
tation.

Whether or not it were of his own
procuring, the death of Philip was hailed

DEMOSTHENES.

157

by Demosthenes as an event most for-
tunate for Athens, and favorable to the
liberty of Greece. Thinking lightly of
the young successor to the Macedonian
crown, he busied himself the more in
stirring up opposition to Alexander, and
succeeded in urging Thebes into that
revolt, which ended in the entire destruc-
tion of the city, B. C. 335. This exam-
ple, as it well might, struck terror into
Athens. Alexander demanded that De-
mosthenes, with nine others, should be
given up into his hands, as the authors
of the battle of Cheronea, and of the suc-
ceeding troubles of Greece ; but finally
contented himself with requiring the
banishment of Charidemus alone.

Opposition to Macedon was now effec-
tually put down, and until the death of
Alexander we hear little more of Demos-
thenes as a public man. During this
period, however, one of the most memo-
rable incidents of his life occurred in
that contest of oratory with -ZEschines,
which has been more celebrated than
any strife of words since the world
began. The origin of it was as follows.
About the time of the battle of Cheronea,
one Ctesiphon brought before the people
a decree for presenting Demosthenes
with a crown for his distinguished ser-
vices ; a complimentary motion, in its
nature and effects very much like a vote
of parliament declaratory of confidence
in the administration. JEschines, the
leading orator of the opposite party,
arraigned this motion, as being both
untrue in substance and irregular in
form; he indicted Ctesiphon on these
grounds, and laid the penalty at fifty
talents, equivalent to about $45,000.
Why the prosecution was so long de-

layed, does not clearly appear; but it
was not brought to an issue until the
year 330, when -52schines pronounced
his great oration " against Ctesiphon."
Demosthenes defended him in the still
more celebrated speech " on the crown."
These, besides being the most admira-
ble specimens of rhetorical art, have the
additional value, that the rival orators,
being much more anxious to uphold the
merits of their own past policy and con-
duct, than to convict or defend the nom-
inal object of prosecution, have gone
largely into matters of self-defence and
mutual recrimination, from which much
of our knowledge of this obscure portion
of history is derived. ^Eschines lost
the cause, and not having the votes of
so much as a fifth part of the judges,
became liable, according to the laws of
Athens, to fine and banishment. He
withdrew to Rhodes, where he estab-
lished a school of rhetoric.

Demosthenes roused the Athenians
against Antipater the successor of Alex-
ander in Greece, but when that general
triumphed, he fled to Calmesia, and took
refuge in a temple. He retired into the
inner part of the building, on pretence
of writing a letter, where he took poison
and speedily died.

Such was the life of Demosthenes, the
greatest orator Greece ever produced, and
one of the most famous that ever lived.

MAN is made to live on the earth,
but to regard heaven as his resting
place. He must keep both objects in
view : if he forgets heaven, he imitates
the brutes which perish; if he forgets
the earth, he will tumble into the first
ditch that lies across his path.

158

WALKING ON STILTS.

Walking on Stilts,

IN some countries the inhabitants walk
on stilts from necessity. In England,
boys do so for fun ; and it is astonish-
ing with what agility, after a very short
practice, they do so. Any boy may
make his own stilts ; nothing is required
but a pair of poles, about six or seven
feet long, upon which some broad pieces
of leather or iron hoop are nailed for the
feet, so as to leave the top of the stilt
within a few inches of the arm-pit. The
boy may at first place his foot-holds very
low, till he can balance himself, and then
raise them every few days, till he obtains
a complete command over them. I have
known boys who had great command
over stilts, to wade through rivers three or
four feet deep ; which would be of some
importance in certain situations, to which
all are subject, as by such aids small
rivers might at any time be crossed, and
life even saved in a case of necessity.

I once, however, knew a boy, who,
having attained this art in great perfec-
tion, was not content with amusing him-
self in a rational and innocent manner,
but set his wits to work to frighten two
of his playfellows, a little boy and girl,
who lived in the neighborhood. He had
often heard foolish people talk of ghosts,
and thought it would be good fun to
make one ; so he got a large white table-
cloth, and having scraped out the inside
of a turnip, so as to leave nothing but
the rind, he cut two holes for eyes, made
an enormous mouth with gnashing teeth ;
in this he put a lantern, and putting him-
self on his stilts, which made him seven
feet high, and fastening the turnip lan-
tern to his hat, he sallied forth into a

by-lane, where he knew his play-fellows
were to pass.

After a while he heard their footsteps,
and then he made himself ready by pull-
ing his white garment about him, and
placing himself under the shade of an
old tree. Then he gave a loud, un-
earthly groan, and with a slow and
measured step came forth. It was
nearly dark, and a little girl and boy
came gaily on, singing and dancing.
But the moment the little girl saw the
supposed spectre, she gave a thrilling
scream, and dropped senseless on the
ground. Her brother, poor fellow, who
at once saw the trick, ran towards the
spectre, and with a blow of a stick which
he held in his hand, felled him to the
ground. He then ran to his sister, but
she was insensible. After a while, as-
sistance came ; but when tbey had taken
the little girl home, and put her to bed,
they found that her senses had fled for-
ever. The fright had turned her brain,
and she became an idiot, and did not
live many years.

Be careful then, my young friends,
never to play upon the fears or feelings
of your companions. It is not only very
wicked, but cruel in the extreme ; and
as the consequences may be serious,
guard yourself against every temptation
of the kind. A sudden start at the word
" Boo," has been known to produce
severe illness; and it is by no means
an uncommon thing to hear of persons
meeting with sudden death through
fright.

IT is pleasant to some persons to give ;
but if one gives only to gratify himself, he
is merely selfish, and can claim no praise.

THE LITTLE SOLDIER.

159

[For Merry's Museum.]
THE LITTLE SOLDIER.

(Concluded.)
MR. MERRY :

Your young readers will remember, I hope,
that they left our " little soldier " at the com-
mencement of his journey homewards. Weak
and faint from his long confinement in the hos-
pital, without money, and with the sad prospect
of two hundred miles on foot before him, it
seemed impossible to him that he could ever
accomplish the journey. But "home," that
blessed word, at mention of which, " the sailor,
clinging to the dripping yard-arm," feels a glow
of rapture, filled the heart of the soldier with
hope, and he proceeded on. Children of the
present day, cannot imagine the change which
has been made in the country since that period.
What was at that time a "wilderness," has
now become a " fruitful field ;" and where our
tired soldiers at the close of the day sheltered
themselves beneath some large tree, may now
be seen the splendid hoi el, inviting the traveller
to comfort and rest. Then, too, at the night-
fall, where our two friends heard only the
mournful note of the "whip-poor-will," may
now be heard the shrill whistle of the locomo-
tive, as it scuds over mountain and valley with
the speed of thought. I cannot take time to
give the details of adventures which cheered
and discouraged our friends from day to day.
They found great difficulty in supplying them-
selves with food ; and I think it was in some
lonely place, on this journey, that the sick sol-
dier was fortunate enough to catch a young
woodpecker, and he said nothing could be more
delicious than the little bird. He pulled out the
feathers, and ate it just as it mas ! He said it
was meat and drink too, for the blood was
warm ! If I am not mistaken, it was three or
four weeks after they left New York, that the
two friends reached a village, called Farming-
ton, in the State of Connecticut. They had
been a long time coming a short distance, as
the strength of the little soldier had been grad-
ually failing during the journey thus far. Just
at dark, after a day of great suffering from ex-
haustion and fatigue, they came to a house
which stood on an eminence rather difficult of
ascent. Here, the poor fellow's courage failed,
and he said to his companion, " Let me stop at
the foot of this hill and die. I can never reach
the house," and he sank upon the ground, en-
tirely overcome. His companion, however, had
strong confidence that if he could have food and
rest, he would soon be restored. He accord-
ingly went to the door of the house, which was
opened by a very respectable middle-aged wo-
man. He proceeded to an inner room, where

an old man was sitting, reading the Bible. He
made as earnest an appeal as he could for the
friend he had left in the road ; but the thought
of having such a burden upon them, (for they
were rather poor,) seemed more than they could
bear. Now, whether the old gentleman hap-
pened to be reading in Matthew, the passage,
" Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least
of these, ye did it unto me," I cannot say ; but
he did not hesitate long. " Let him come in,"
said he ; " we will do the best we can for him."
Here, then, new courage came to him, and, with
the utmost exertion, he reached the door. The
table was spread for the evening meal ; and such
a sight our "little soldier" had not seen since
he left his father's house, where was " bread
enough and to spare." He has been heard to
say often, that at no other period in his life,
was he ever so much overcome, as at the sight
of that table ! He wept and sobbed like an in-
fant. The utmost caution was needed, or he
would no doubt have sacrificed his life in the
indulgence of his appetite. At this house he
remained several weeks, and I would to God
that this account might fall into the hands of
some of the descendants of that pious family.
The man was named Thomas Cowles. A mai-
den daughter kept the house, and took care of
her father. They were unwearied in their at-
tentions to the invalid, and he began to recruit
at once. His companion came on to their
native place, and a brother of the sick soldier
immediately started on horseback for him, with
money to remunerate the family who had shown
him so much kindness. When the young sol-
dier came to take his leave, which he did with
many tears, the good people refused all com-
pensation. Now, I hope, Mr. Merry, some of
your young readers will know why this was.
Our "little soldier" loved and feared God.
They had taken " sweet counsel together," and
felt that they had their reward. Many years
after these events occurred, and after the little
traveller had been in the service of his Divine
Master a long time, an opportunity was given
to send to this daughter, who hau survived her
father several years. With deep emotion he
took from his library a handsome volume, and
presented it to Miss Cowles, with the simple quo-
tation, " I was a stranger, and ye took me in."
Should any one of the name meet with this
account a branch of that family" may the
Lord bless them seven fold," for their father's
sake. A SOLDIER'S DAUGHTER.

To make room for the remainder of the story
of The Little Soldier," we are obliged to defer
our Correspondence until the next number.

The Goldfinch.

THE MUSIC COMPOSED FOR MEKRY's MUSEUM, BY GEORGE J. WEBB.

Vivace.

Je of woodland glade, In thy jet and gold, ar

Goldfinch, pride of woodland glade, In thy jet and gold ar - rayed j Gentle bird, that lov'st to

1^ P 7 f3_s* xft ' L_ i^i_ ~

:5?:iLX ri :

feed On the this - tie's downy seed 5 Freely frol-ic, light-ly sing, In the sunbeams spread thy

wing ; Spread thy plumage trim and gay, GHtt'rijig in the noontide ray. Freely frol - ic, light-l

ESE:

sing, In the sunbeams spread thy wing ; Spread thy plumage trim and gay, Glitt'ring in the noontide ray.

Fickle bird, forever roaming,
Endless changes ever loving,
Now in orchards gaily sporting,
Now to flowery fields resorting ;

Chasing now the thistle's down,
By the gentle zephyr blown,
Lightly on thou wing'st thy way,
Always happy, always gay.

MERRY'S MUSEUM,

Vol. VII.

JUNE, 1844.

No. 6.

TINE, the first of the sum-
mer months, presents us
with many interesting
things. The meadows are
now covered with flowers
in full bloom : the forests have put on
their beautiful garments of green : the
birds are busy in tending their young ;
the mornings are ushered in with sil-
very dews, and the evenings come like
a soft veil thrown over the cradle of
her children, by the gentle hand of na-
ture, to make their slumbers sweet and
secure.

The farmer is now busy in gathering
his crop of hay, though, as he swings
his scythe, he unhappily disturbs many a
pretty nest of the meadow lark, the spar-

VOL. VII. 11

row, and the boblink. How the latter
does sing " Get out o' the way old Dan
Tucker," as the mowers intrude upon
his dominion ! However, it is better
that Bob should be disturbed now and
then, than that the cattle should starve,
and every body go without milk and
meat.

But let us go to some field, where the
mower has not yet appeared. Let us
stop and listen to Bob with his white
nightcap on. What a set of names he
has got boblink bob o' lincoln skunk
black bird and rice bird. He seems to
have as many names as those rascals
who are sent to the state's prison, yet he
has no other quality in common with
pick-pockets and counterfeiters. He is

162

JUNE.

no thief, for what he takes he takes in
open day ; he is no pick-pocket, for while
the cat-bird filches cherries, strawberries,
raspberries, and grapes, Bob is content
with the waste seeds of the meadows.
He is no counterfeiter, no, he is a down-
right fellow, and is never ashamed of his
name. Meet him where you will, he
springs into the air, and seems to give
you a challenge in the following words

" Jem Richardson, Jem Richardson,
get away yet away : it 's very disa-
greeable of you to trouble us : get away !
get away ! "

Different people fancy the boblink to
say different things. A girl of sixteen
blushes at his open, impertinent calling
out the name of her lover, which she sup-
posed a secret to every one but herself;
the miser thinks his song like the jing-
ling of keys ; a tory fancies that the
rogue calls him a whig ; a whig, that he
reviles him as a tory ; a boy going home
from school, imagines that he is mocking
him for spelling the word jingo, with
two gs and a town-meeting orator, re-
gards him as a lecturer upon that species
of eloquence which at town-meetings is
usually displayed a succession of nasal,
brassy sounds, with very little sense.

But let us leave boblink to pursue his
cheerful, happy life, and look at that bird
with long legs and a sly appearance,
stealing through the grass. He is a
meadow lark, and a magnificent bird,
streaked with gray and brown upon the
back, with a breast of bright yellow.
See ! he is very timid, and has already
flown. Alas, his flesh is excellent, and
man has taught him that there is danger
in his near approach. Yet listen to his

clear, shrill note, as he flies in the air.
See ! there he lights on the topmost
bough of yonder apple-tree. How plain-
tive, yet how beautiful, his prolonged
note ! He is not, however, so sweet a
singer as the lark of Europe.

Let us take a stroll in yonder thicket.
How still and secluded is this little dell.
Not a sound is to be heard. Hush ! I
heard a rustle among the bushes ! Oh,
it is a brown thrush ; there he sits, trying
to hide himself behind the oak leaves.
He has a nest near, and being engaged
in important business, does not wish to
be disturbed. He will not speak to you
till evening. If you are then within a
quarter of a mile, you will hear his song.
It consists of imitations and variations
that might put Ole Bull to the blush.
Some passages are exquisitely beautiful,
and would excite the envy of that con-
ceited bird, the English talk so much
of, the nightingale, a bird, that is so
solicitous to be heard, that it will sing
only in the night, when all honest birds
are asleep.

We will say no more of this month,
after introducing to you the following
description of it, in the oldest English
lay extant:

" Summer is yeomen in
Loud sing cuckoo ;
Groweth seed, and bloweth mead,
And springeth the weed new."

THE NEW KING. The king of the
Sandwich Islands has so much improved
in his condition since he signed the
pledge, that the people call him THE NEW
KING.

INQUISITIVE JACK.

163

Inquisitive Jack,

CHAPTER V.
About Quadrupeds.

IMTTST tell you that by this time, Jack
had learned to read, and this was now
a source of great delight to him. It
often happened that he could not go
into the fields to study nature, because
the weather was stormy, or perhaps it
was winter, and the ground was covered
with snow. It is true that his aunt Pi-
per was generally ready to answer his
questions, and to give him information
but she could not attend to him always.
Beside, he found in books that there
were more exact and scientific accounts
of birds, beasts, fishes, insects and other
things which interested him, than even
aunt Betsey Piper could give.

Thus, Jack devoted a good deal of his
time to reading, though he did not lay
aside his habit of observing and investiga-
ting. This habit is very important, and I
advise all my young friends to adopt, and
continue it, however much they may
read. Reading will indeed sto^re the
mind, and make it full of knowledge ;
but observation and investigation render
that knowledge clear, distinct, and use-
ful. So, I wish to have every body
.follow Jack's plan to read a great deal,
and also to investigate a great deal.
Thinking is to the mind what exercise
is to the body it makes it strong, cheer-
ful, and full of health. Thus my plan
is that reading books and reading nature
should go together. Now, I will tell
you how Inquisitive Jack managed this.

164

INQUISITIVE JACK.

One day, he was going through a little
wood, where he saw a squirrel running
along upon the fence. It was of a red-
dish color, and exceedingly nimble. It
seemed almost to fly along the rails of the
fence, and at last, it mounted upon a
tree. It then ran about upon the limbs, and
sprang to another tree. Then it dashed
from tree to tree almost like a bird, until
at last, it reached a large oak. It now
seemed to consider itself out of the
reach of harm, and accordingly, it be-
gan to chatter in the most extraordinary
manner. There was something about it
that made Jack feel that the fellow was
making fun of him. He was annoyed
at this, and picking up a stone, he hurled
it at the offender with all his force.

The squirrel dodged the stone, ran up
the tree a little higher, and chattered
louder than ever. It seemed to say
something like this, " Oh Jack Jack
you are a very silly fellow get you gone
and leave the woods to me and my
companions ! chickaree ! chickaree !
chickaree ! " While the squirrel was
saying this, he flourished his long red
tail, and seemed to be in a state of vio-
lent agitation.

When Jack went home, he told his
aunt Piper about the squirrel, but she
did not know as much of squirrels, as of
bees, butterflies, and birds, and therefore
she could not wholly satisfy his curi-
osity. He therefore consulted a book
of natural history, and there he found a
full account of the red squirrel, or chicka-
ree. He found it described just as he
had seen it, and furthermore he learned
that it was one of the most lively of the
whole squirrel family ; that it lives upon
nuts, and is common in the forests of

New England and the Middle States
that it builds its nest in hollow trees,
and lays up a store of its favorite fruit
against the winter season. s * '

Now you will be able to see the advan-
tage of combining observation with read-
ing; Jack had seen the squirrel, had no-
ticed its color, form, air, and manners. He
had therefore distinct, indelible impres-
sions respecting these things, and when
he began to read about this squirrel, it was
of something he had seen ; something
of which he had a lively knowledge ;
something associated in his mind with
his walk through the woods, and the
pleasure of a ramble. He read, there-
fore, with a keen delight ; he understood
what he read, he remembered it all, and
he was incited to go on and pursue the
subject, till at last he had read the story
of the whole squirrel family, red, black
and gray !

I tell you this just to give you a speci-
men of Jack's way of combining obser-
vation with reading. I must now tell
you about another thing, which I have
alluded to before. It would seem that
ideas resemble boys ; they don't love to
be alone. One idea wants another ; and
several ideas want a good many others.
You show a child a beautiful shell, it
gives him a new idea, and that immedi-
ately suggests a desire of other ideas,
and he asks, " Who made the shell ? "
" Where did the shell come from ? "
" What is it made of," &c., &c.

I have almost got through my story,
so do not be impatient if I tell you one
thing more, and that is how Jack used
to think about what he saw and read.
I shall give you an instance. One day,
he was strolling through the fields, at a

SKETCHES IN EGYPT.

165

distance from any house, when he saw
a large hawk pounce down upon a rabbit.
The talons of the bird pierced the very
heart of the little animal, and it was al-
most instantly killed, and borne away by
the destroyer, struggling however in the
pangs of death. As it was carried over
his head, Jack noticed the four legs of
the rabbit, and he began to reflect upon
the fact that a hawk has two legs, and a
rabbit four. Having made this compari-
son, he proceeded to make others ; and
now it struck him, for the first time, that
the whole feathered race are two-legged
creatures, while rabbits, squirrels, cats,
dogs, pigs, foxes, lions, tigers, cows,
horses, and elephants are four-legged
creatures. As he was thus ruminating
upon this matter, he happened to take
up his book, and he there found that the
animal creation is divided into groups
such as orders and classes, &c., accord-
ing to their formation.

He learned that four-legged animals,
called quadrupeds, form one great class ;
that birds form another class ; fishes an-
other ; reptiles another ; and insects still
another. And in pursuing this subject,
he found that each class was divided into
many families or kinds. Among the
quadrupeds, he found the family of cats,
including old puss in the corner, as well
as the lynx, cougar, leopard, tiger, and
lion. He learned that among the bears,
there are many kinds, and also among the
wolves and foxes, and all other races of
animals.

And now, a new source of interest
grew up in Jack's mind. This classify-
ing of animals became intensely inter-
esting. He loved to compare oiie kind
with another; to note the resemblances

and differences ; to observe the influence
of climate, and see how nature had di-
versified her works, so as to adapt every-
thing to the purpose it was designed to
accomplish. Thus, at every step, his
knowledge increased, and became more
and more permanently fixed in his mind ;
while the interest he took in study, was
enhanced even in a greater degree.

Sketches in Egypt,

IN a former number of our Museum,
we have given some account of the
wonderful things, displaying the man-
ners and customs of the Egyptians,
and setting forth many points of history,
which have been discovered among the
ruins of their ancient cities and temples.
We now give a few passages, showing
some of the manners and customs of the
present inhabitants of Egypt.

IRRIGATION.

Throughout the whole of Egypt, even
in the Delta, there are numerous canals
to preserve the water after the overflow;
and from these the country is supplied
with moisture. The lands in Upper
Egypt to aid the process of artificial
irrigation are dug into small squares,
connected by gutters or furrows; and
the water, being raised from the stream
either with a machine or by manual la-
bor, is admitted into these ridges, and
flows from one square into another. This
operation forms the most laborious part
of a fellah's employment; particularly
where the Persian water-wheel is not in

use.

HARVEST.

^Immediately after the water has run
off, sowing commences, the seed only

166

SKETCHES IN EGYPT.

requiring to be strewed over the land,
when it sinks into the soft earth by its
own weight, or is trodden down by the
cattle driven over it ; a process generally

performed in November. The harvest
commences in April, when the corn is
cut with a sickle, close to the ear, and
the straw is appropriated for fodder, or

Egyptian mode of thrashing corn.

converted into fuel. The ears, having
been carried from the field in baskets,
are laid upon the ground. A sort of
sledge drawn by oxen is then driven
over it, which answers the end of thrash-
ing, separating the corn from the ears.* 1

It is next stored, and the husbandman
having none of the labors of plough-
ing, furrowing, or manuring his land
those duties being superseded by the
bounteous Nile he is at leisure till the
next overflow.

Marriage procession.

MARRIAGE.

A day or two before the wedding, the

* The mode still pursued by the Egyptians is
precisely the same as that practised by them and
other eastern nations formerly, as described in

bride elect goes in procession to the pub-
lic bath, which is often hired exclusively

Numbersycviii. 27 ; Deuteronomy xxv. 4 ; Isa-
iah xxviii. 27, 28 j Ruth iii. v. 29.

SKETCHES IN EGYPT.

167

for her and her friends. A canopy of silk
is borne over her by four men, preced-
ed by musicians, and sometimes by per-
sons who perform some feat of strength
or a mock fight with swords ; the female
relations of the maiden are also of the
party ; and when in the bath, the com-
pany is amused by almehs and other
musicians.

On returning from the bath the bride
takes a large lump of henna, and going
round to her guests solicits a contribution
of money, when each person generally
sticks a small piece of gold into the
henna, which on being relieved of the
coins, is afterwards applied to her hands
and feet. The evening of this ceremo-
ny is called" The night of the henna."

The next day, the bride proceeds to
the house of her future lord in the same
order as when she goes to the bath ; and
on arriving at the harem all her friends
leave her, except her mother or other near
relation, the bridegroom remaining be-
low with his friends. Sometimes he
goes to a mosque, and on his return, af-
ter seeing the company supplied with
pipes and sherbet, is for the first time in-
troduced to his wife ; and having been
left alone with her he presents her
money, which is called " the price of
uncovering the face." This is an awk-
ward moment for the bride, whose form
and features do not always bear out the
praises that the match-maker has pre-
viously bestowed on them by way of
description ; and lovers have been known
to betray disappointment at this delicate
juncture. On removing the covering it
is however proper for him to say, " In
the name of God, the compassionate,
the merciful, blessed be this night ! " the

lady must answer " God bless thee ! "
Several women are stationed outside the
door, who, at a signal from the bride-
groom, set up cries of joy which are
responded to by others below and in the
neighborhood to signify that he ac-
knowledges his bride, and that she equals
his expectations : these ceremonies over,
the man rejoins his male friends, with
whom he spends an hour or two in so-
ciality, and then returns to his wife.

MOSQUES.

The houses of worship in Cairo are
magnificent and spacious. The princi-
pal mosque, called the church of Laza-
rus, is situated in the middle of the city.
Van Egmont says that between five and
six thousand persons receive their sub-
sistence from it, and that two thousand
lie in it every night. Formerly the in-
terior was as a sealed book to all who
did not follow the faith of the prophet ;
for, if any stranger happened to enter it,
he was instantly imprisoned, and his only
chance of escape from death was to turn
Mohammedan.

The minarets, or high towers of the
mosques, are surrounded, at a great
elevation, with projecting galleries, in
which stand the public criers, who an-
nounce the stated times of prayer pre-
scribed by the Mohammedan law. Up-
wards of eight hundred voices may be
heard at once from these lofty stations,
from which, also, prayers are on extra-
ordinary occasions, offered up.
BURIALS.

The Egyptians seldom keep a corpse
in their houses on the night succeeding
death ; and never bury their dead after
sunset. Rose-water, camphor, and other
perfumes, are sprinkled over the de-

168

SKETCHES IN EGYPT.

Great Mosque of Sultan Hassan, Grand Cairo.

ceased, his nostrils and ears are stuffed
with cotton, the ankles bound, and the
hands placed over his breast. If he have
been a man of wealth, he is wrapped
successively in layers of muslin, cotton
cloth, and cloth of cotton and silk, and
lastly, a Cashmere shawl. He is then
placed on a bier, and a procession is
formed of chanters, with the relations
and domestics of the deceased; and
passages from the Koran, with a dirge,
are recited during the way. The bier is
first carried into a mosque, when the iman
and his assistant repeat certain prayers
over it; and after the performance of
some minor rites, the funeral train pro-
ceeds to the burial-ground.^ When

* Every city in Egypt has a necropolis, or

within the tomb a singular ceremony is
performed by a person called " the in-
structor of the dead;" who, sitting be-
fore it, speaks to the corpse as if it were
a living person, saying, that there will
come two angels who will ask certain
questions, which he also tells the body
how to answer. The two angels are
supposed to visit the dead on the succeed-
ing night, when the soul will depart and
the body be tortured for its sins. After
burial, prayers are recited and certain
forms gone through by the relatives, to
facilitate the entrance of the deceased

burial-place, so situated as to be secure from
injury by the inundations of the Nile. In Up-
per Egypt these "silent cities "are hollowed
out of the mountain-sides.

SKETCHES IN EGYPT.

169

Burial procession .

into paradise. Wailers are sometimes
hired at funerals, to make loud lamenta-
tions ; but in the case of a vielee, or re-
puted saint, these mournings are turned
into cries of joy at the release of the
pious man from this world, to the world
of happiness ; to which it is believed he
has certainly departed.

The religious superstitions of the
Egyptians present a remarkable feature
in their character ; as many of them are
not only believed in by the learned, but
are sanctioned by the Koran. The prin-
cipal of these is the belief in genii, a
class of spirits who play so prominent a
part in the " Arabian Nights Entertain-
ments." These supernatural beings are
supposed to hold a sort of middle rank
between angels and men to be created
of fire, capable of assuming any form,
and of becoming invisible. They are
presumed to inhabit rivers, ruined houses,
wells, baths, ovens, &c.

TINGING THE EYES.

It is a common practice with ladies in

Egypt as in Persia, to tinge their eyes
with a black powder, called khol. This
seems to have been an ancient practice,
for vessels containing this powder have
been found in the tombs. The hands

Tinging the eyes.

and feet are also tinged with a decoction
of the henna tree, a kind of privet,
which imparts an orange hue. Women
of the lower classes mark their bodies
with a blue tint, like that used by sailors
in tattooing their wrists and arms.

170

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

Pictures of Various Nations,

CHAPTER VI.
MEXICO.

OTJTH-WEST of the United States is the
country of Mexico. Till within a
few years, it was a Spanish colony ;
but is now independent.
In Mexico there are seven kinds of
people : 1. Whites, born in Europe ; 2.
Creoles, born of Spanish parents in
America; 3. Mestizoes, or descendants
of Whites and Indians; 4. Mulattoes,
sprung from Whites and Negroes; 5.
Zambas, the offspring of Indians and
Negroes; 6. Indians, who are the cop-
per-colored native race ; and 7. African
Negroes.

The Mexicans are of good stature,
well proportioned, and so free from per-
sonal defects, that there is scarcely upon
the earth a nation, in which fewer de-
formed persons are to be met with. Their
skin is of a copper-color ; and they have
good complexions, narrow foreheads,
black eyes, white, firm, regular teeth,
and thick, glossy, black hair.

Some of the ladies are said to be very
beautiful; but they have one practice,
which is very disgusting that of smok-
ing cigars. They carry their cigars in
a gold, or silver case, suspended by a
ribbon at their side ; and as soon as one
cigar is exhausted, another is lighted ;
and they only cease to smoke, when they
eat or sleep.

It is said that the Mexicans are mod-
erate in eating; yet one would think
they must eat a great deal, as they have
eight meals a day. This I suppose,
however, is only among the higher class-

es. Chocolate is a favorite beverage,
but if they eat little, they drink much.
Indeed, drunkenness is so common, that
in the city of Mexico, the police send
round tumbrils, or carts, .to collect such
as are found stretched in the streets.

The senses of these people are very
acute, especially that of sight, which
they enjoy to old age, unimpaired. Their
constitutions are naturally sound ; and,
though most of them die of severe dis-
eases, it is not uncommon for them to at-
tain to the age of a hundred years.

The Mexicans have good understand-
ings ; but education among them is not
very general. They are said not to be
as passionate as the people of some other
countries. They are slow, and very
persevering in respect to works, which
require time. They are generous and dis-
interested. They set but little value up-
on gold. The Spanish inhabitants dress
very expensively. They generally wear
silks, and adorn their hats with belts of
gold, and roses of diamonds. Even
some of the slaves have bracelets, and
necklaces of gold, silver, pearls, and
gems.

The Roman Catholic is the establish-
ed religion. The natives retain many
of their superstitious notions and practi-
ces. When one of them dies, the de-
ceased has a jug of water given him,
and pieces of paper, with directions
where to go. At the same time, a little
dog, or some other domestic animal, is
killed, to accompany the deceased on his
journey, to the invisible world. The
corpse and the animal are now burned,
and the ashes placed in an earthen pot,
which is buried in a deep ditch.

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

171

BRAZIL.

Before we speak of the inhabitants of
Brazil, however, we shall say a word or
two of the country. Scarcely a finer
country is to be found on the globe. Its
climate is healthful ; its soil fertile ; its
scenery charming, and even romantic ;
thick forests crown its hills, and perpet-
ual verdure adorns its valleys ; noble
rivers pass in every direction, and the
richest tropical fruits abound in every
quarter. Brazil also is famous for its
gold and diamonds. Until recently, the
country belonged to the king of Portu-
gal ; but it is now independent. The Ro-
man Catholic is the established religion.

The European settlers are generally
gay and fond of pleasure. The men
generally wear cloaks and swords. The
ladies have fine dark eyes, and expres-
sive countenances. They adorn their
heads with tresses, tied with ribbons and
flowers. The labor of this class of per-
sons is chiefly performed by slaves.

If you go into the country, but not into
the mining districts, you will find the
people living in small mud cottages, cov-
ered with tiles or leaves. The people
here use no knives or forks; and but
few have tables. They eat their meals,
squatting on the ground, with dishes,
bowls or gourds, placed in the centre.
The people dress in a slovenly and mean
manner, but the women more so than the
men.

In the mining districts, the inhabi-
tants are still more degraded. You may
indeed see cups, coffee-pots, wash-basins,
and the like, all. of silver; but other
things, food, dress, and manner of living,
by no means correspond.

The native Indians of Brazil are divi-

ded into numerous tribes, and speak dif-
ferent languages ; but they all agree in
wearing few clothes. Many are entire-
ly naked. They are of a copper-color,
with long, coarse, black hair ; but, like
the more northern Indians, they are des-
titute of beards. They are a strong,
lively, and gay race of people. Few
diseases are known among them. They
delight in feasting and dancing, both of
which they carry to excess.

Their huts are made of the branches
of trees, and covered with palm leaves.
Their articles of furniture are few and
simple. Their weapons of war are
bows, arrows, and wooden clubs. The
flesh of monkeys is their principal ani-
mal food. This they so prepare, that at
the same time it is roasted, it is black-
ened with smoke. A monkey roasted
by a Brazilian, would frighten an Amer-
ican : or if it did not frighten, it would
disgust him, for it is always roasted with
its head on, and in a sitting posture.

PERU.

To the west of Brazil, lies Peru ; and
hither we shall now conduct our read-
ers, to take a view of the inhabitants of
that country.

We must first tell them, however, a
few words of the country itself. Peru
is a hot and barren country. It is bar-
ren, because it seldom rains there. It
has many dreary deserts. The lofty
Andes pass through, and divide it. It
abounds in gold, and silver, and mercu-
ry, or quicksilver. Here, too, is found
Peruvian bark, which is so much used in
this, and other parts of the world.

Peru is a large country; and yet it
has but about a million and a half of in-

172

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

habitants. They consist of Creoles, Mes-
tizoes, and Indians, or natives of the
country. The Creoles are natives of
Spanish descent. They are well made,
and of good stature, with lively, agreea-
ble countenances. The Mestizoes are a
mixed race. They are, also, generally
well made, very robust, and quite tall.

By far the greater part of the inhabi-
tants of Peru are Indians ; but they are
not now what they once were. Many
years ago, the Spaniards conquered
them. At that time, they were a rich
and flourishing people. They under-
stood several of the arts, and many of
them lived in a style of magnificence.

At that time, gold was so common
among them, that they used it, as we use
iron and brass. Their sovereigns were
called Incas. They believed the sun to
be a god, and worshipped it as such-. The
glory of their former days has, howev-
er, passed away. They are now almost
savages. They are well proportioned,
and even strong ; but are generally low
in stature, and some of them remarkably
so. They have deep black hair, which
is thick, long, harsh and coarse, like
that of a horse. The men wear theirs
loose, but the women plait thfeirs behind
with a ribbon. They set great value
upon their hair ; the greatest insult which
can be offered to either sex, is to cut it
off; and when this is done by way of
punishment, they never forgive the dis-
grace put upon them.

Their dress consists of white cotton
drawers, reaching to the calf of the leg,
loose, and edged with lace. Instead of
a shirt, they wear a black cotton frock,
in the form of a sack, with two openings
for the arms, and a third for the head to

pass through ; over this, they throw a
kind of cloak, and cover the head with
a hat.

This dress ihey never put off, even
when they sleep. Some of the richer
class distinguish themselves by the fine-
ness of their drawers, and wear shirts
with lace four or five inches broad, fast-
ened round the neck like a ruff. Though
they wear no stockings, they have silver
or gold buckles in their shoes ; and their
cloak, which is of fine cloth, is often
adorned with gold or silver lace.

INTEMPERANCE IN ENGLAND. At a
meeting recently held in Exeter Hall,
London, the Hon. J. S. Buckingham
stated, that 53,000,000 was the annual
cost of intoxicating drinks to the people
of that country. That this sum was fif-
ty times as much as all the collections
for the relief of the distressed, under
every form of appealing to public sym-
pathy.

In that land of distress and wretched-
ness, where thousands perish for the
necessaries of life, and tens of thou-
sands more gain a scanty subsistence,
fifty-three millions of pounds, or 250
millions of dollars, are annually spent
for poison to augment the poverty, mise-
ry, and death. Strange infatuation!
When will old England be alive to the
interests of the great mass of her citi-
zens, and place an everlasting quaran-
tine upon this source of physical and mor-
al disease, temporal and eternal death.

THE whole community of whites on
the Columbia River, and the various set-
tlements in Oregon, have abandoned the
use of intoxicating drinks.

DICK BOLDHERO.

173

A Tapir.

Dick Boldhero,

CHAPTER V.

The adventure of the monkeys concluded strange
animals weariness, despair a terrible incident.

readers can hardly imagine the be-
wildered state of my mind, occa-
sioned by the scenes described in
my last chapter. The little apes,
who grinned, chattered, frisked, and frol-
icked in the moonlight around me, ap-
peared like so many fantastic sprites, and
I could scarcely believe that it was not
all a dream. Never shall I forget some
of their quizzical countenances and gro-
tesque gestures, as they peeped at me
between the branches of the trees. Af-
ter they had hung around me for several
minutes, one of them uttered a shrill cry,
and with many a leap, and jirk, and
bound, they disappeared. They seemed
to run along upon the trees, passing
from the branches of one to another, as
easily as a rabbit upon the solid ground.
They were indeed supplied with limbs

to accomplish this. They had not only
four hands, but they were furnished with
a tail, which seemed amazingly conve-
nient and useful. Never was any in-
strument employed with more dexterity
and success. They wound it around
the limbs of the trees, where they hung
suspended, or swung from branch to
branch. When they were travelling
upon the giddy heights of the forests,
they held it erect, in order to keep them
steady, thus using it as a rope-dancer
does his balance pole.

At this time I knew very little about
these creatures, but I afterwards learned
that the forests of Guiana, as well as
other warm parts of South America,
abound in various kinds of monkeys, and
that the species who made me the noctur-
nal visit I have described, are called howl-
ers. They are particularly noisy at
night, and make the forests ring with
their elvish din. It is common for one
of them to mount a tree, and seem to ad-

174

DICK BOLDHERO.

dress the assembled group around him,
embellishing his discourse with the most
extraordinary grimaces, gestures, and
contortions. One can hardly look upon
a scene of this sort, and not feel it to be
a sort of satire upon human oratory.

I did not close my eyes again that
night. Morning at last came, and I at-
tempted to grope my way back through
the thickets, to the path I had lost. But
I was encompassed by lofty forests, and
my mind was in some degree bewilder-
ed, I rambled about the whole day, and
at night found myself at the precise spot
from which I had started in the morn-
ing.

My heart was now full. The pros-
pect of perishing in the wilderness, was
before me ; I had eaten the last morsel
of food that remained in my wallet ; it
seemed impossible, therefore, that I should
escape. The thoughts of never again
seeing my mother and my home of
dying without a friend at my side, and
leaving my form to be torn limb from
limb, by wild beasts, all rushed upon me
with frightful force, and for a few mo-
ments, I gave way to despair.

But these feelings gradually subsided,
and though no situation could be more
hopeless than mine, still, hope revived,
and I determined to make another effort
the next morning, to effect my escape.
Having formed this resolution, I stretch-
ed myself out upon the ground and fell
asleep, and nothing remarkable occurred
during the night. At early dawn, I
arose, and set forward with the deter-
mination of being more wary than be-
fore, in order to avoid a similar result.
I was very hungry, but I soon found
some berries, which I ventured to eat,

though I was not sure that they were
wholesome. I pushed forward, as I im-
agined, in a direct line toward the path.
But when one's head is turned, south
seems north, and north south so that a
great part of the day, I travelled in the
direction opposite to that which I intend-
ed to follow.

Toward evening, I came in sight of a
lake, and as I was exceedingly thirsty, I
approached it. It was encircled with
tall trees and thickly matted shrubbery,
except on the side where I was. Here
was a little opening, and as I came to
the edge of the water, I was about to
stoop down and quench my thirst ; but
what was my astonishment to behold be-
fore me a huge beast, bearing a resem-
blance to a large black hog. It was
completely in the water, but I could dis-
tinctly see it walking on the bottom and
approaching the shore. Being not a lit-
tle alarmed at this strange apparition, I
ran hastily back from the lake, and con-
cealed myself in a thicket, at the dis-
tance of several yards. My position
was such, however, as to command a
view of the water.

I could soon perceive an undulation
on its glassy surface, and shortly after
the bristly back of the animal became
visible. He leisurely come to the shore,
looked around, snuffed the air, a little
suspiciously, and then began to devour
the coarse herbage that grew along the
margin of the water. The whole as-
pect of this creature was swinish, and
I should have set him down as one of
the hog family, but for two reasons.
He was twice as big as any specimen of
that race, I had ever seen ; and he had
a long, flexible snout, which he used like

DICK BOLDHERO.

175

an elephant's trunk. I watched him
narrowly, and never have I seen a more
extraordinary looking creature. He
seemed, indeed, to be half hog and half
elephant, though his manners resembled
the former, rather than the latter. He
seemed to feel perfectly at home, ate vo-
raciously, flourished his little tail, and
at last, sat down upon his rump, like a
tired dog.

I had now remained for half an hour
in my concealment, and being weary of
inaction, I rushed out from the thicket,
club in hand, and suddenly stood before
the beast. Never have I seen such a
gaze of stupid wonder, as the monster
at first exhibited. But he soon made up
his mind to retreat, and uttering a grunt
by way of exclamation, he plunged into
the water, and I saw him no more. I
afterwards learned that this animal is
common in the waters of South Ameri-
ca, and probably is known to most of
my readers, under the name of tapir.

Night soon followed this scene, and I
was obliged again to find a pillow be-
neath the boughs of the forest ; I slept
soundly, however, and again in the morn-
ing began my rambles. My strength,
however, was impaired; my courage
was gradually ebbing away; still I con-
tinued to roam about, making the best
effort I could for my deliverance. I was
not alone in the forest, for innumera-
ble parrots were chattering among the
branches of the trees, and birds of many
forms and hues, were glancing through
the air, or reposing in the leafy shade of
the wilderness.

I frequently met with monkeys, skip-
ping from tree to tree, and as they grin-
ned at me from above, I could fancy that
there was a sneering and malicious ex-
pression in their faces, as if they under-
stood and rejoiced in my forlorn condi-
tion. I once saw an animal bounding
along upon the ground, which greatly
resembled a raccoon, and a momentary

flash of pleasure came over my bosom, | at being thus reminded of a creature

176

THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER.

with which I was familiar in my native
woods. But I soon perceived that the
animal had a longer tail and snout than
the raccoon. He speedily bounded up
a tree, and coiling his tail around one of
the branches, looked down upon me with
a gaze of curious wonder. I learned
that this creature was the coaiti ; an an-
imal which is famous for eating up his
own tail !

Another and another day followed, my
strength and spirits gradually failing be-
neath the efforts I was making, particu-
larly as the food I procured, consisting
wholly of berries, seemed to give me
but little sustenance. It was, I believe,
on the sixth day after I had wandered
from my path, that I sat down, overpow-
ered with heat, exhaustion, and despair.
I felt that my final hour was come that
I had found my resting place, and that I
must prepare in solitude to die. The
anguish of my feelings was not so great
as might have been imagined I was
worn out both in body and mind, and

was contemplating my release, if not
with satisfaction, at least with some de-
gree of composure, when a fearful spec-
tacle arrested my attention.

At the distance of about thirty feet,
lay an object, which at first, I had taken
to be the fallen branch of a tree. But
its dull, earthy colors, gradually changed
to the most brilliant hues; its relaxed
and flattened form, became rigid, round-
ed, and curved. Its head rose with a
slow motion, and I could now perceive
that it was an enormous serpent, gliding
with a noiseless motion towards me. Its
eye was fixed upon me with a glassy
and terrific stare ; its jaws were expand-
ed ; its tongue brandished, ready to strike
the fatal blow. I had sufficient recollec-
tion to know that this must be an ana-
conda, and I expected the next instant
to be crushed in its folds. The thought
was too horrible to be endured. I felt a
faintness come over me, and while a
rushing sound filled my ears, my senses
departed.

The Old Man in the Comer,

NO. VI.

PETER AND THE PIG.

IHERE was once a youth, who being
born in poverty, was brought up to
labor for his living. But being of
an indolent turn, he felt this to be a
great hardship. He was also as unwil-
ling to study his books, as he was to
perform other tasks. . He hated all ex-
ertion ; and seemed indeed to think that

toil was the only curse, and idleness the
only bliss. If he was not the same
youth, who, when asked what he deemed
the highest state of happiness, replied
" swinging on a gate, with one's mouth
full of molasses candy," he was still,
of much the same way of thinking.

Now lazy Peter, as he was called,
went one day to feed the pig. The ani-

THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER.

177

mal was very fat, and even when he heard
the corn rattle into his trough, he only
uttered a kind of affected grunt, pricked
up his ears, wagged his tail, and kept his
place. Peter looked into the stye, and be-
held with unaffected admiration, the lux-
urious beast, imbedded in straw, and too
happy in the enjoyment of his digestion
and repose, even to get up and eat. " This
is the perfection of comfort," said Pe-
ter to himself. " How pleasant it must
be to have nothing to do, but to eat and
sleep ; no chores to do ; no boots and
shoes to put on ; no jackets and trowsers
to button up ; no musty books to learn ;
no Emerson's Arithmetic to make one's
head muzzy; no awful looking school-
master, whose very countenance makes
one's stomach ache, to watch over him ;
no sharp voice to call him at 5 o'clock in
the morning ! No, no he eats and sleeps
and sleeps and eats gets up and goes
to bed just as he pleases. Really, I half
wish I was a pig ! "

Thus mused lazy Peter while he
rested his chin upon the edge of the pig-
stye, and gazed with dreamy eyes upon
the lord of the manor. At length, urged
by a sense of imperious necessity for
the idea of duty, had not yet taken pos-
session of his head he tore himself
away from these agreeable contempla-
tions.

At night Peter went to bed as usual,
but the scene of the pig-stye, had made
such an impression upon his mind, that
it stole in among the visions of his sleep.
He dreamed that he was sauntering along
upon a highway, and bound upon some
long journey. Weary at length, he sat
down and began to grumble at the ne-
cessity of travelling such a distance, and

VOL. VII. 12

over such a tiresome road. While he
was thus occupied, a Fairy came to him,
and said " Peter, I have heard your
complaints, and have come to relieve
them ! You think it hard to travel this
road, though its borders are decorated
with flowers ; though it leads through de-
lightful regions, and finally terminates
in a happy home, where friends gather
around to minister to every want and
gratify every desire. Your difficulty is,
that you must take the trouble to pick
the flowers, to visit these happy regions,
to travel to this final home of peace.
Well, you shall have your way : you
want idleness, and deem that this is
bliss. I have a stye, in which is the fat-
test pig you ever saw : you shall be his
companion, share his bed and board, and
thus find the fulfilment of your wishes ! "

Strange as it may seem, Peter accept-
ed the offer, and was soon domesticated
in the stye. For a time, he enjoyed him-
self to the utmost : to be sure the per-
fume of the place offended him a little
at first but the luxury of having noth-
ing to do but to eat and sleep, prevailed
over every other feeling, and he deemed
himself perfectly happy.

Thus time rolled on until one night
he chanced to hear certain ominous pre-
parations going on outside of the stye.
He heard the rolling of a large tub, and
chanced to hear the mistress of the
place give directions to a man to butch-
er her two pigs the next morning. " Two
pigs ! " said Peter to himself" and so
I am one of them : but I '11 give them
the slip ! " He waited till all around was
quiet, and then attempted to rise, for the
purpose of making his escape. But alas
he was so fat and unwieldly, and the

178

THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER.

fence was so high, that he could by no
possibility get out of the pen. And
there was one thing, which struck him
with absolute horror : he now perceived
that he had four legs cloven feet, a long
snout, and a. tail ! Nor was this all
long wiry bristles stood up along his
back his sides were coated with coarse
hair, and while he tugged to get out of
his prison, he grunted like his compan-
ion. " I am, at last, a pig then ! " said Pe-
ter ; " and yet, I am not altogether a pig.
I know more than this lazy beast by my
side ; I know what is to happen to-mor-
row, and while he is at rest, I am in an
agony of fear. I wish I were really a
pig, for then I should know no fear, and
the butcher's knife would finish me. But
it is really horrible to have the mind of
a human being, and the body and habits
of a hog."

Poor Peter in the agony of his dream
made a great outcry, but it was like the
squealing of a pig ; the fairy heard it,
however, and came at the call. " What
is the matter ? " said she. " Let me
out ! let me out ! " said Peter in his fren-
zy. " I can't let you out," said the fairy :
" you weigh at least fifteen score, and be-
side, you are a pig, now ; for you must
know that if a human being adopts swin-
ish habits and keeps swinish company,
he gradually becomes assimilated to the
brute he imitates. But there is one dif-
ference : the pig, though he enjoys in-
dolence, is able to do so, only because
of his ignorance. He has no mind which
paints higher and nobler enjoyments;
no desire of long life ; no looking for-
ward to the future ; no sense of right
and wrong ; no conscience to disturb him.
It is otherwise with you. You have a

mind, and though you may abuse it. you
cannot annihilate it. It is a lamp it
may become dim for a time, but you
cannot put it out. It will burn forever,
and will forever show you, and make
you feel the degradation you have
reached, and the happiness you have
lost." Thus saying, the fairy departed.

It is not possible to tell the agony of
the dreamer ; he now saw his folly, and
bitterly lamented it. But at last, in his
vision, the morning came. He heard
the hot, hissing water poured into the tub,
to scald off his hair ; he heard a lively
whetting of knives, and at last saw the
goggling eyes of the butcher, taking a
look over the edge of the pig-stye. His
agony was beyond bounds ; he uttered
a piercing shriek, and in the paroxysm
of his distress, he awoke. It was, how-
ever, a lucky dream, for the youth took
warning by it, and conquering his indo-
lence, he became industrious, and grew
up a prosperous and happy man.

Reader, if thou art given to indolence,
take heed by Peter's dream; and like
him, turn from the error of thy ways.
Deem not that indolence is bliss but
believe me the ways of industry are
ways of pleasantness, and her paths lead
to peace.

WHAT 's IN A NAME ? " My name is
Norval ! " said a runaway youth, who
was playing that character in a small
theatre at Annapolis, some years since.
" That 's a whapper ! " said an officer in
the crowd "your name is Bill Brown,
and you owes Mrs. Knipper three dollars
and a half for board, washing and lodg-
ing and here 's a writ, so come along,
my darling ! "

THE FIVE-DOLLAR BILL.

179

The Five-Dollar Bill,

THE following story has been published
in many of the newspapers, but it is
so good, that we give it a place in
our columns. It not only shows how
proper and necessary it is to pay small
accounts, but it shows the use of money.
What a wonderful thing, that little pieces
of paper may perform such important
offices in society, as we see that they
do, by the story of the " Five-Dollar
Bill."

" Sir, if you please, boss would like
you to pay this bill to-day," said, for the
tenth time, a half-grown boy in a dirty
jacket, to a lawyer named Peter Chan-
cery, and whose office was in Philadel-
phia.

The attorney at length turned round
and stared the boy full in the face, as
if he had been some newly discovered
specimen of zoology, gave a long whistle,
thrust his inky finger first into one pock-
et and then into the other of his black
cloth vest, and then gave another long
whistle and completed his stare at the
boy's face.

" Ho, ha, hum ! that bill, eh ?" and the
legal young gentleman extended the tips
of his fingers towards the well worn bit
of paper, and daintily opening it, looked
at its contents.

" Hum ! for capping and heel-tapping,
six shillings for foxing, ten and six-
pence, and other sundries, eh ! So your
master wants me to settle this bill, eh ? "
repeated the man of briefs.

" Yes, sir. This is the nineteenth time
I have come for it, and I intend to knock
off at twenty and call it half a day."

" You 're an impudent boy."

" I 's always impudent. to lawyers, coz
I can't help it it 's catchin'."

" Your eye-teeth are cut, I see ! "

" That 's what boss sent me for, instead
o' the 'prentices as was gettin' their teeth
cut. I cut mine at nine months old, with
a hand-saw. Boss says if you don't pay
that bill he '11 sue you."

" Sue me ? I'm a lawyer ! "

" It 's no matter for that ! Lawyer or
no lawyer, boss declares he '11 do it so
fork over ! "

" Declares he '11 sue me ? "

" As true as there 's another lawyer in
all Filadelphy."

" That would be bad ! "

"Would n't it?"

" Silence, you vagabond. I suppose
I must pay this," muttered the attorney
to himself. " It 's not my plan to pay
these small bills ! What is a lawyer's
profession good for, if he can't get clear
paying his own bills ? He '11 sue me !
'T is just five dollars ! It comes hard,
and he don't want the money ! His boy
could have earned it in the time he has
been sending him to me to dun for it.
So your master will sue for it if I don't
pay?"

" He says he will do it, and charge you
a new pair o' shoes for me."

" Hark'ee. I can't pay to-day ; and so
if your boss will sue, just be so kind as to
ask him to employ me as his attorney."

"You?"

"Yes; I'll issue the writ, have it
served, and then you see I shall put the
costs into my own pocket, instead of see-
ing them go into another lawyer's. So
you see if I have to pay the bill I '11 make
the costs. Capital idea."

180

THE FIVE-DOLLAE BILL.

The boy scratched his head a while,
as if striving to comprehend this " capi-
tal idea," and then shook it doubtingly.
" I don't know about this ; it looks tricky.
I '11 ask boss though, if as how you say
you won't pay ,it no how without being
sued."

" I 'd rather be sued if he '11 employ
me, boy ! "

" But who 's to pay them costs the
boss?"

The lawyer looked at once very seri-
ous, and then gave another of those long
whistles peculiar to him.

" Well, I am a sensible man, truly !
My anxiety to get the costs of the suit
blinded me to the fact that they had got
to come out of one of my own pockets
before they could be safely put into the
other pocket ! Ah ; well, my boy, I sup-
pose I must pay. Here is a five-dollar
bill. Is it receipted ? it is sa dirty and
greasy I can't see."

" It was nice and clean three months
ago when boss gin it to me, and the
writin' shined like Knapp's Blackin'
it 's torn so of a dunnin' so much."

" Well, here 's your money," said the
man of law, taking a solitary five-dollar
note from his watch fob ; " now, tell your
master, Mr. Last, that if he has any other
accounts he wants sued, I will attend to
them with the greatest pleasure."

" Thank'ee," answered the boy, pock-
eting five, " but you is the only regular
dunnin' customer boss has, and now
you 've paid up, he hasn't none but cash
folks. Good day to you."

"Now there goes a five-dollar note
that will do that fellow, Last, no good.
I am in great want of it, but he is not.
It is a five thrown away. It wouldn't

have left my pocket but that I was sure
his patience was worn out, and that costs
would come out of it. I like to have
costs, but I don't think a lawyer has any-
thing to do with paying them."

As Peter Chancery, Esq. did not be-
lieve in his own mind that paying his
debt to Mr. Last was to be of any benefit
to him, and was of opinion that it was
" money thrown away," let us follow the
fate of this five-dollar bill through the
day.

" He has paid," said the boy, placing
the five-dollar bill in his master's hand.

" Well, I am glad of it," answered Mr.
Last, surveying the bank-note through
his glasses ; " and it's a current bill, too.
Now run with it and pay Mr. Furnace
the five dollars I borrowed of him yester-
day, and said I would return to-morrow.
But I '11 pay it now."

" Ah my lad, come just in time," said
Furnace, as the boy delivered his errand
and the note. " I was just wondering
where I could get five dollars to pay a
bill which is due to-day. Here, John,"
he called to one of his apprentices, " put
on your hat and take this money to
Captain O'Brien, and tell him I came
within one of disappointing him, when
some money came in I didn't expect."

Captain O'Brien was on board his
schooner at the next wharf, and with
him was a seaman, with his hat in his
hand, looking very gloomy as he spoke
with him.

" I 'm sorry, my man, I can't pay you
but I have just raised and scraped the
last dollar I can get above water to pay
my insurance money to-day, and have
not a copper left in my pocket to jingle,
but keys and old nails."

THE FIVE-DOLLAR BILL.

181

" But I am very much in need, sir;
my wife is ailing, and my family are in
want of a good many things just now,
and I got several articles at the store
expecting to get money of you to take
'em up as I went along home. We han't
in the house no flour, no tea, nor "

" Well, my lad, I 'm sorry. You must
come to-morrow. I can't help you unless
I sell the coat off my back, or pawn the
schooner's kedge. Nobody pays me."

The sailor, who had come to get an
advance of wages, turned away sorrow-
ful, when the apprentice boy came up
and said, in his hearing, " Here, sir, is
five dollars Mr. Furnace owes you. He
says when he told you he couldn't pay
your bill to-day, he didn't expect some
money that came in after you left the
shop."

" Ah, that's my fine boy ! Here, Jack,
take this five-dollar bill, and come Satur-
day and get the balance of your wages."

The seaman, with a joyful bound, took
the bill, and touching his hat, sprung
with a light heart on shore and hastened
to the store where he had already select-
ed the comforts and necessaries which
his family stood so much in need of.

As he entered, a poor woman was
trying to prevail on the store-keeper to
settle a demand for making his shirts.

" You had better take it out of the
store, Mrs. Conway," he said to her;
" really, I have not taken half the amount
of your bill to-day, and don't expect to.
I have to charge every thing, and no
money comes in."

" I can't do without it," answered the
woman : " my daughter is very ill, and
in want of every comfort ; I am out of
fire-wood, and indeed I want many things

which I have depended on this money
to get."

" I 'm very sorry, Mrs. Conway," said
the store-keeper, looking into his money-
drawer ; " I have not five shillings here,
and your bill is five dollars and nine-
pence."

The poor woman thought of her inva-
lid child, and wrung her hands.

" A sailor was here a while ago and
selected full five dollars' worth of arti-
cles, here on the counter, and went away
to get his wages to pay for them ; but
I question if he comes back. If he does
and pays for them, you shall have your
money, madam."

At this instant Jack made his appear-
ance in the door.

" Well, ship-mate," he cried, in a tone
much more elevated than when he was
discovered speaking with the captain;
" well, my hearty, hand over my freight.
I 've got the document, so give us pos-
session ! " and displaying his five-dollar
note, he laid hold of his purchases.

The store-keeper, examining and see-
ing the note was a good one, bade him
take them with him, and then sighing,
as he took another and last look at the
bill, he handed it to the poor widow,
who, with a joyful srnile, received it
from him and hastened from the store.

In a low and very humble tenement,
near the water, was a family of poor
children, whose appearance exhibited the
utmost destitution. On a cot-bed near,
lay a poor woman, ill and emaciated.
The door opened, and a man in coarse,
patched garments entered with a wood-
saw and cross, and laid them down by
the door side, and approached the bed.

" Are you any better, dear ? " he asked

182

THE LAKE.

in a rough voice, but in the kindest
tones.

" No have you found work ? If you
could get me a little nourishing food, I
should regain my strength."

The man gazed upon her pale face a
moment, and again taking up his saw
and cross, went out. He had not gone
far before a woman met him, and said
she wished him to follow her and saw
some wood for her. His heart bounded
with hope and gratitude, and he went
after her to her dwelling, an abode but
little better than his own for its poverty,
yet wearing an air of comfort. He sawed
the wood, split and piled it, and received
six shillings, with which he hastened to
a store for necessaries for his sick wife,
and then hurried home to gladden her
heart with the delicacies he had provided.
Till now he had had no work for four
days, and his family had been starving ;
and from this day his wife got better and
was at length restored to her family and
to health, from a state of weakness to
which another day's continuance would
probably have proved fatal.

These six shillings, which did so much
good, were paid him by the poor woman
from the five dollars she had received
from the store-keeper, and which the
sailor had paid him. The poor woman's
daughter, also, was revived and ultimate-
ly restored to health; and was lately
married to a young man who had been
three years absent and returned true to
his troth. But for the five dollars which
had been so instrumental in her recov-
ery, he might have returned to be told
that she, whose memory had so long
been the polar star of his heart, had per-
ished.

So much good did the five-dollar bill
do which Peter Chancery, Esq. so reluc-
tantly paid to Mr. Last's apprentice boy,
though little credit is due to this legal
gentleman for the results that followed.
It is thus that Providence often makes
bad men instruments of good to others.
Let this story lead those who think a
"small bill" can stand because it is a
small bill, remember how much good a
five-dollar bill has done in one single day
and that in paying a series of twenty
bills, they may dispense good to hundreds
around them.

The Lark.

A GERMAN ALLEGORY.

IN the balmy morning of a spring day,
a farmer walked with his son into the
field. The cool morning wind played
with the silver locks of the old man,
and lifted the blooming stems of the
field, so that they appeared like a cloud
over the waving grain.

And the old man said, " Behold how
active nature is for our good ! With the
same breath which cools our cheeks, she
makes our fields fruitful, so that our
barns are filled.

" Eighty years have I witnessed this,
and still it is as pleasing to me as though
I saw it to-day for the first time. It
may easily be the last ! For have I not
reached the limit of human life ! "

Thus the old man spake. Then the
son pressed his hand and was grieved in
his heart.

But the father said, "Why do you
mourn ? Behold, my day is ended, and
my evening has come. If a new morn-

ORIGIN OF THE NAMES OF THE STATES.

183

ing is to break upon me, it must first be
night. But it will appear to me like a
night of summer, cool, and lovely, when
the evening twilight melts into the twi-
light of morning."

" Oh my father," said the son, " how
can you speak so composedly of that,
which will be to us the cause of severe
affliction ? You have given me an em-
blem of your death. Oh give me an
emblem of your life, my father ! "

Then the old man replied, " That I
can easily do. For the life of a farmer
is simple,, like nature, which surrounds
him. See the lark yonder ; do you ob-
serve how it arises out of the grain-field
singing ! It does not soar so near the
farmer for nothing ! For it is the em-
blem of his life.

" Behold, it is born and matured in the
lap of maternal earth, and feeds itself in
the nourishing furrow. Among the wav-
ing stems it builds its nest and hatches
its eggs, and takes care of its young.
And the animating exhalations of the
ground and the green field strengthen
its wings, and the voice of its bosom.
But now it arises towards heaven, and
looks down from above on the stems and
grain, and the tender mother, and up-
wards at the light, which rears the stems,
and in the cloud, which sends dew and
rain on the earth. As soon as morning
begins to dawn, it is on the wing, to salute
the early messenger of approaching day.
And when the evening sun is sinking
below the horizon, it rises again to drink
of his last celestial beams. Thus it lives
a two-fold life, the one silently in the
still shade of the nourishing furrow and
the green stems, and the other, singing
in the bright regions of a higher world

of light. But its two-fold life is only one.
For behold, it rises only to descend, and
descends only to rise again ! "

Thus the old man spake. And the
son ferfently pressed the hand of his
father, and said, " Ah yes, my father,
such has been your life ! Oh, may it be
a source of joy to us for a long time to
come ! "

Thereupon the old man replied, " The
clod is too heavy for me ! Why do you
envy me the undivided life of pure har-
mony and brighter light ?

" The day is sultry. Come, let us
return home."

Origin of the Names of the several
United States,

MAINE was so called, as early as 1623,
from Maine in France, of which
Henrietta Maria, Queen of England,
was at that time proprietor.

New Hampshire was the name given
to the territory conveyed by the Plymouth
Company to Captain John Mason, by
patent, November 7th> 1629, with refer-
ence to the patentee, who was Governor
of Portsmouth, in Hampshire, England.

Vermont was so called by the in-
habitants in their Declaration of Inde-
pendence, January 16th, 1777, from the
French, xerd, mont, the green mountain.

Massachusetts was so called from Mas-
sachusetts Bay, and that from the Massa-
chusetts tribe of Indians in the neighbor-
hood of Boston. Massachusetts is said
to signify " Blue Hills."

Rhode Island was so called, in 1644,
in reference to the Island of Rhodes, in
the Mediterranean.

184

BATTLE BETWEEN A RAT AND A CRAB.

Connecticut was so called from the
Indian name of its principal river. Con-
necticut is a Moheakanneew word, signi-
fying long river.

New York was so called in 1664, in
reference to the Duke of York and Al-
bany, to whom this territory was granted
by the King of England.

New Jersey was so called in 1664,
from the Island of Jersey, on the coast
of France, the residence of the family of
Sir George Carteret, to whom this terri-
tory was granted.

Pennsylvania was so called in 1681,
after William Penn.

Delaware was so called in 1703, from
Delaware Bay, on which it lies, and which
received its name from Lord de la War,
who died in this bay.

Maryland was so called in honor of
Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I., in
his patent to Lord Baltimore, June 30,
1632.

Virginia was so called in 1584, after
Elizabeth, the virgin Queen of England.

Carolina was so called by the French
in 1564, in honor of King Charles IX.
of France.

Georgia was so called in 1732, in
honor of King George II.

Alabama was so called in 1817, from
its principal river.

Mississippi was so called in 1800, from
its western boundary. Mississippi is said
to denote the whole river, that is, the river
formed by the union of many.

Louisiana was so called in honor of
Louis XIV. of France.

Tennessee was so called in 1796, from
its principal river. The word Ten-assee
is said to signify a curved spoon.

Kentucky was so called in 1792, from
its principal river.

Illinois was so called in 1809, from its
principal river. The word is said to sig-
nify the river of men.

Indiana was so called in 1809, from
its being, for a long time, occupied by
several large Indian tribes.

Ohio was so called in 1802, from its
southern boundary.

Missouri was so called in 1821, from
its principal river.

Michigan was so called in 1805, from
the lake on its border.

Arkansas was so called in 1819, from
its principal river.

Florida was so called by Juan Ponce
de Leon, in 1572, because it was discov-
ered on Easter Sunday, in Spanish Pas-
cua Florida. Some say it was so called
from its florid appearance, in conse-
quence of the great number of flowers
it produced.

Columbia was so called in reference
to Columbus.

Wisconsin was so called from its prin-
cipal river.

Iowa is so called from its principal
river.

Oregon is so called from its principal
river.

Battle between a Rat and a Crab,

THE following incident is related in a
late English journal :
In the year 1812, a sailor in com-
pany with several persons, at Sun-
derland, a short time before, perceived a
crab which had wandered to the distance
of about three yards from the water side.

BILL AND THE BOYS.

185

An old rat, on the look-out for food,
sprang from his lurking-place and seized
the crab, who, in return, raised his for-
cep claws, and laid fast hold of the
assailant's nose, who, when opportunity
offered, hastily retired, squeaking a dole-
ful chant, much surprised, no doubt, at
the unexpected reception he had expe-
rienced.

The crab, rinding itself at liberty, re-
treated, as speedily as crab could do,
towards its own element; but after a
short space of time, it was arrested in
its progress by Mr. Eat, who renewed
the contest, and experienced a second
rude embrace from his antagonist. The
rat, as before, retreated, bemoaning such
violent treatment. Frequent and severe
were the attacks ; on view of his enemy,
the crab always prepared for action by
raising its fore claws in a threatening
attitude.

After a bloodless contest of half an
hour, the crab, though much exhausted,
had nearly reached the sea, when the
rat, almost despairing of conquest, made
a last and daring effort to overcome his
antagonist, and succeeded (to use the
seaman's term) in capsizing his intended
victim, a situation of which the rat im-
mediately took advantage, seizing, like
an able general, the vanquished prey,
and dragging the creature by the hind
legs (proceeding backwards) into his
den. After a short interval, he made his
escape, and appeared to the spectators,
mutilated and deprived of most of the
small legs ; the rat soon followed in pur-
suit of the fugitive, and forced him back
to his den, where, no doubt, he regaled
his wife and family.

Bill and the Boys,

OR WIT AND WEALTH.

Is we have finished Bill Keeler's story
of the lottery ticket, we will now pro-
ceed to relate another tale which was
told by one of the boys who belonged
to the story-telling circle of Salem, and
which we shall entitle Wit and Wealth.

A great many years ago, and in a far-
off country, there were two boys one of
them was the son of the king and bore the
name of Selim ; the other was the child
of a poor man and was called Bazeen.

Selim was brought up in luxury and
permitted to have his own way. He was
dressed in the richest silks ; his ears
were decorated with diamonds, and jew-
els of great price glittered upon every
part of his person. He was surrounded
with servants, who were attentive to his
wishes, and prompt to gratify every pas-
sion and caprice.

But while so much pains were taken
to amuse the young prince and minister
to his pleasures, his education in most
respects was neglected. He was in-
structed in horsemanship, music, dan-
cing and military exercises, but he had
a contempt for books, and utterly refused
to learn to read. He seemed to think
it was enough to be a prince that by
birth he was superior to all others. He
made, indeed, a mistake common enough
among people of high fortune, in feeling
that the rank and condition in which he
was born gave him a right to claim su-
periority in every respect over all around
him. He forgot that there is no royal
road to learning that the prince as well
as the plebeian must study to acquire
knowledge, and that a person with a full

186

BILL AND THE BOYS.

purse may be a pauper with respect to
brains.

Young Bazeen was very different from
all this. His father, as we have said,
was poor. He had no jewels with which
to decorate the person of his son, nor
could he do more in respect to dress than
to clothe him in the plainest attire. But
he had still the power of giving his
boy an education, for learning was little
prized in that country, and the school-
master undertook the education of Ba-
zeen for a very small compensation.
Thus, the boy was taught the learning
of that day, and among other things was
made acquainted with several different
languages.

When the two youths we have de-
scribed were approaching the period of
manhood, they joined the army of their
country and went on an expedition
against a distant enemy. Bazeen was
attached to Selim's corps, which consist-
ed of a troop of horse, and though a pri-
vate soldier, he attracted the notice of
the youthful prince. They at last met
the enemy, and their army being defeat-
ed in the terrible engagement which
followed, they were both taken and car-
ried into captivity.

The appearance of Selim marked him
as a person of some consequence, and he
was therefore ordered into the presence
of the king whose soldiers had made
him prisoner. Bazeen accompanied him
as his attendant. The young prince had
taken care to decorate his person in the
most costly manner, expecting in this
way to dazzle the eyes of the monarch,
before whom he was to appear.

The two prisoners were soon led into
the presence of the sovereign. He re-

ceived the young prince graciously, and
began to ask him questions about the
battle, and the country from which he
came. But he soon perceived that Selim
was ill informed upon these subjects, and
that he was, in fact, deficient in intelli-
gence and observation. He then turned
his attention to Bazeen, and put nearly
the same questions to him that he had
done to Selim. Bazeen answered mod-
estly, and with some hesitation, doubting
whether it was proper to show him-
self superior in knowledge to his royal
master. The monarch penetrated his
feelings, and commanded him to reply.
The youth was therefore forced to an-
swer, and soon showed himself to pos-
sess a great deal of knowledge. "Bring
me a book! " said the king to one of his
servants. The book was brought and
handed to Selim ; but he shook his
head disdainfully, and remarked that at
his father's court, princes scorned the
drudgery of learning to read. " Such
tasks," said he, "are reserved for our
slaves. Give the book to Bazeen, he can
read!"

The lip of the monarch curled, but
he did not speak. The book was handed
to Bazeen, and he read the passage that
was pointed out. " It is well," said the
king, " and now hear my decree. Ba-
zeen shall be my secretary, for he has
learning; and his mind, which is the
noblest part of man, fits him to be the
companion of princes. Selim despises
learning, and shows that while the body
the inferior part is glittering with
jewels, he has still a base and grovelling
mind! Selim is at heart a slave, and
slavery shall be his doom. This is my
decree."

BILL AND THE BOYS.

187

The sentence of the king was put in
immediate execution. Bazeen was raised
to a high station in the palace, and Selim
was compelled to perform the meanest
offices of the household. But the former
was scarcely less unhappy than the lat-
ter. He performed his duties faithfully,
but he did not enter heartily into the
service of a king who was the enemy of
his country. The condition of Selim was
also a constant source of misery to him.
He therefore entered into a scheme for
effecting the escape of his young master
and his own. In endeavoring to carry
this into effect, they were both detected
and thrown into prison.

It was some consolation to the two
youths that they were permitted to be
together, but after they had been confined
for several months, time hung heavily
on their hands. Their dungeon consisted
of a small room, with scarcely a ray of
light. Selim soon sunk into a miserable
state of despair. He was permitted to
retain his jewels, but how worthless
were they now ! They seemed, indeed,
to mock his degradation, and even to
embitter his misery. But Bazeen had
jewels of another kind those of the
mind, which could even illuminate the
darkness, and were of inestimable value
even in the dungeon. They enabled
him to support his confinement ; his
range of knowledge furnished him with
constant sources of thought, reflection
and emotion. He was thus not only able
to keep his own mind in a cheerful state,
but he often communicated the light of
his mind to that of his dejected com-
panion.

A year had now passed, when at last
the jailer in making his rounds entered

the apartment, attended by a person
holding a lamp in one hand, and a scroll
in the other. The latter addressed the
prisoners as follows : " I am instructed
by the king, my master, to present to
you this writing, and he that can read it
is pardoned, and permitted to return to
his own country." Upon this he held
out the paper, first to the prince and then
to Bazeen. The latter ran his eye over
it, but shook his head, saying " It is a
hard task you give us ; we have been
confined in a dungeon for a year, and
now you bring us a light which dazzles
our eyes. Leave us the lamp for an
hour, and when we are accustomed to the
light, return and put us upon the trial."

The messenger of the king acceded to
this proposition, and departed. As soon
as he was gone, Bazeen, who had read
the paper, told Selim the precise words
it contained. He made him repeat them
again and again, until they were fixed
in his memory.

At the time appointed the messenger
returned. Selim took the paper, and re-
peated the words it contained, thus seem-
ing to read it accurately. He was there-
fore released from the prison, and taking
leave of Bazeen, departed from the dun-
geon. He was taken before the king,
where Bazeen also was summoned. " I
have heard the story of your wit," said
he to the latter, " and you have used it
generously in behalf of your master.
He shall have his liberty, for I have
promised it; but you shall accompany
him. He may depart ; but let him carry
with him the consciousness that wit is
better than wealth, and the mind infin-
itely more worthy of decoration than the
person."

188

VARIETIES.

Blue Beard and his Castle,

IHE ruins of the Chateau de la Ver-
riere, on the banks of the Erdre, in
the department of the Loire Inferi-
eure, are, according to the tradition
of the neighboring peasantry, those of
the castle of the celebrated Blue Beard,
the hero of the well known nursery tale.
This formidable personage, who is not
altogether a creature of fancy, was Giles
de Retz, who lived in the reign of Charles
VII., and was a vassal of John V., duke
of Bretagne. He was tried at Nantes,
on suspicion of having destroyed a num-
ber of children, who had been seen to
enter the castle, and were never heard
of afterwards.

The bodies of several were afterwards
found, he having caused them to be put
to death to make use of their blood in
writing charms and forming incantations
to raise infernal spirits, by whose means
he believed, according to the horrible
superstitions of the times, that buried
treasures would be revealed to him. On
his trial he confessed the most horrible
acts of atrocity, and was sentenced to be
burnt alive ; but the duke caused him to
be strangled before he was tied to the
stake. This execution took place De-
cember 25th, 1440, and a detailed ac-
count of it is still preserved in a manu-
script in the archives of Nantes.

A HORSE STUNG TO DEATH BY BEES.
We learn from the Hartford (Connecti-
cut) Patriot, that Mr. William Russell,
of Spring Hill, tied his horse near a
bee-hive, a few days ago, when the
swarm set upon the horse and stung
him until he sunk down in the greatest
agony and immediately died. Before

he fell, Mr. Russell made every effort to
remove the horse, but the poor brute
seemed spellbound, and refused to stir.
The day was warm, and Mr. Russell
had been driving fast.

THE FLOWERS OF SPRING. The show-
er of rain that was falling a few min-
utes ago, is passed away ; the sun is
shining bright, the drops of rain are
glittering like diamonds on the young
I leaves. How sweet is the smell of the
sweetbriar after the rain ! How pleas-
ant does the garden look ! A few weeks
ago there were little signs of life any-
where, but now every border is full of
flowers, and fresh buds are still showing
their heads above the ground. Among
the low green leaves, we see colors of
blue, and red, and yellow, and orange,
and purple. Where were these beauti-
ful flowers in winter ? Were they dead ?
They were buried, indeed, in the ground,
and their fair blossoms were not then
unfolded, but there was life in their roots.
There was life, too, in the seeds which
were sown a little while ago, though
they did not spring up till the rain and
sunshine came.

Your kind heavenly Father sends you
flowers, not only to teach you wisdom,
but to give you sweet and innocent
pleasure. So now, my little ones, enjoy
the sunshine, for it will soon pass away.
The clouds are gathering again. Look
for violets and primroses in the sunny
banks, gather the cowslips and tie them
into yellow balls, and let no innocent
joy of spring pass by you. English
magazine.

BOISTEROUS PREACHING. A celebrated
divine, who was remarkable in the first

LETTER TO PETER PARLEY.

189

period of his ministry for a loud and bois-
terous mode of preaching, suddenly
changed his whole manner in the pulpit,
and adopted a mild and dispassionate
mode of delivery. One of his brethren
observing it, inquired of him what had
induced him to make the change? He
answered : " When I was young, I
thought it was the thunder that killed
the people ; but when I grew wiser, I
discovered it was the lightning so I de-
termined to thunder less and lighten
more in future." It is a pity that all
preachers had not made the discovery.

Letter to Peter Parley,

AND HIS ANSWER.

Belleville, Gloucester county, Va.,

March 26th, 1844.
DEAR MR. PARLEY :

I am very much interested in your little
book on the sun, moon, and stars ; I under-
stand it very well. The last lesson I read
was about the centrifugal and centripetal forces.
I have read a good many of your books of
Asia, Africa, Europe, the Christmas Gift, and
your magazine.

I should like to have accompanied you in
your journeys on the terrestrial and celestial
globes ; were you not afraid of being melted
in Mercury and freezing in Uranus ? I think
I should have been.

I have lately been reading the history of Vir-
ginia, which is the state in which I live. I think
it very interesting. It tells when the state was
first settled, and it gave me a great deal of in-
formation about the colonies. I did not know
of Nathaniel Bacon, or the rebellion which he
caused, before I read the book, although he
lived and died within a few miles of our house.
His remains were buried in Petsworth church.
Nor did I know, before I read the history, that
Charles 2d's coronation robe was woven in
Gloucester county.

You may be sure I was very glad to have a
knowledge of such facts. The Virginians were
very loyal subjects, and would have continued
so, had it not been for the manner in which
they were treated by the king and his parlia-
ment.

Are you a whig or a democrat ? Mr. Parley,
do you think we shall ever have as good a pres-
ident as Washington ? I fear not, but hope
we may. Mr. Parley, where did you acquire
so much information as you have given your
little readers ? My brother, who went to Cam-
bridge College, says he has often passed your
house ; if I had been in his place, I would have
stepped in and made your acquaintance. I am
for Mr. Clay.

I wish you would write a book on mythology.
I would like to know something more than I
do of the heathen gods. I have read a good
deal of them, but not by you. Your method
being so good to convey information, furnishes
a reason why I should like to read a book on
this subject by you. I have seen your geogra-
phy, and think It very good for youth ; it gives
such a good description of the earth.
Your little reader,

EDWIN T*******.

PETER PARLEY'S ANSWER.

MY DEAR YOUN& FRIEND :

Your kind letter, written in March last, was
received by me some weeks since ; but I have
not been able to answer it till now. You
speak very pleasantly of my little books, and
tell me that they have given you a great deal
of instruction. I am glad to hear this, and I
shall be still more pleased to learn, that as they
have added to your stock of knowledge, and
increased your enjoyment, they have also shown
you, that our goodness ought to increase with
our learning. I shall at least indulge the be-
lief that it will prove so in your case, and that
you will thus, in after life show yourself wor-
thy of the name you bear.

You speak with great interest of Virginia
and this is right for it is your birth-place. It
is natural to love our native land, and this
love, which is called patriotism, is a virtuous
and praiseworthy sentiment. How many beau-
tiful and glorious actions have sprung from it !

190

OUR CORRESPONDENCE.

What a noble spectacle does the life of "Wash-
ington present, who lived for his country ! A
true patriot is indeed a great man, and com-
mands the admiration of the world. You
may be proud of a state that produced Wash-
ington, but though I am a Yankee, he was my
countryman, and I am proud of him too.

You ask if I am a whig, or a democrat.
If Washington was a whig, so am I. I do
not know that, in all respects, we shall ever
again have so faultless a character to preside
over our nation ; but I hope to see the next
president, whoever he may be, willing to
walk in his footsteps willing to imbibe his
spirit willing to set an example of patriot-
ism to the whole country and the whole world.
If Henry Clay is this kind of man and I am
told he is I shall rejoice to see him president.
They say he has a noble, generous, patriotic
heart and an excellent head too. This union
makes a great man. Without it no man can
be truly great.

I have hardly space to talk of politics, for you
know it is a mighty long-winded subject. The
best way is for you to call and see me, when
you visit Boston. I live in a brown house,
four miles from the city, and am ever glad to
see my young friends. I always have a plate
ready, somewhat in Virginia fashion, for my
juvenile visitors. If my table is not so bounti-
fully spread as yours, I will try to imitate that
warm-hearted hospitality for which Old Vir-
ginia is famous. When you come, I will tell
you whether I am a whig or a democrat and
one thing you will find out and that is, that I
like a clever fellow, whatever his politics may
be. We will also, when you visit me, talk
over the affairs of Mercury and mythology. If
I do not tell you where I got all my knowledge,
I will try to satisfy you that a moderate stock
of learning, well employed, may do a great
deal of good in the world.

I am your sincere friend,

PETER PAKLET.

Onr Correspondence,

WE have this month our usual stock of let-
ters from our good natured friends, but we

can only find room to notice them briefly. We
are particularly well supplied with puzzles
enough, indeed, to get our brains, and those of
our readers too, into a snarl if we were to
publish them all. There seems to be a great
love for these things, and . abundance of talent
to produce them ; why don't somebody set up
a Magazine entirely devoted to them ? It might
be called "THE UNIVERSAL PUZZLER," or the
"Puzzler Puzzled, consisting of puzzles, orig-
inal and select, foreign and domestic, and em-
bracing the most celebrated puzzles of ancient
and modern puzzlers edited by Peter Puzzle,
Esq., aided by all the little Puzzles !" If any
one is disposed to start the work, we give him
the title ejatis. But to our correspondence.

H. D. W r, of Fruit Hill, Rhode Island,

guesses that the answer to the riddle of our
Quincy subscriber, is North America j and that
of the one that comes from Portsmouth, is R.
Merry's Museum. Master Walker is right as
are several other correspondents, who send us
the same answer.

The letter of F. H. B. of Quincy, is received,

as is that of E. D. H., Elizabeth B g, &c.,

&c. The following deserves insertion as it. has
travelled so far.

Athens, (Georgia) April Wth, 1844.
MR. MERRY :

DEAR SIR, I have received your Museum,
and I am perfectly delighted with it. I am
trying to get you more subscribers in our town,
and I know that when I show the late numbers
to some of the other little girls and boys, I shall
have some new subscribers for you. I take a
great deal of interest in your puzzles, and every
time that your Museum has some of them in
it, I sit down and try to solve them. Some-
times I succeed, and sometimes I do not. I
write this to you because I see that you say in
your last, that you love to hear from your little
subscribers ; and I am also encouraged to do
so, seeing that you published a letter from a
subscriber in Decatur, which is not very far
from this place. I have found the answer to
the Enigma of Frederick H. B. of Quincy ;
and I also send one of my own, which you will
please publish if you think it deserves it. All
that I have now to add is, that you are not for-
gotten in Georgia.

Your young friend,

A. Ci C******.

CORRESPONDENCE MUSIC.

191

HERE IS THE ANSWER TO FREDER-
ICK'S ENIGMA.

His 5, 8, 11, 4, 2 and 9, is Hector, a cape on a
large island.

His 6, 3, 11, 4, 10 and 11, is Arctic a large
circle.

His 5, 12, 3 and 8, is Hard the tribe of In-
dians that inhabit British America.

His 5, 2, 9 and 1, is Cape Horn, of South
America.

His 7, 12, 9, 7, 2, 3 and 12, is Marmora, a
sea between Europe and Asia.

His 1, 8, 10, 7 and 10, is Niemen, a river in
Europe.

His 11, 3, 10, 7, 8 and 12, is Crimea, a por-
tion of Russia.

His 8, 4, 1 and 12 is Etna, a burning moun-
tain.

His 11, 5, 10, 1 and 12, is China, a country
in Asia.

His 5, 8, 3, 12 and 4, is Herat, the capital of
a country in Asia.

His 12, 11, 5, 8, 8 and 1, is Achun, a town
on a large island.

His whole is North America a large portion
of the globe.

PUZZLE.

My whole consists of ten letters.

My 9, 8, 5 and 6, is very useful to fur traders.

My 5, 6 and 10, is an animal.

My 10, 9, 4 and 7, is a burning mountain in
Europe.

My 9, 5 and 8, is manufactured in large
quantities in the Southern States.

My 1, 7 and 9, is an animal that goes out
only at night.

My 10, 2, 3, 6 and 10, is a part of the East-
ern Continent.

My whole is the name of a distinguished
Emperor. A. C. C.

i WE are requested to express, in a particu-
lar manner, the thanks of the Publishers to the
post-master of Augusta, Georgia, for his kind

offices ; and also to Mrs. D , who takes a

special and efficient interest in our humble peri-
odical. Mrs. S. W. L., of Leighton, Alabama,
will also accept our acknowledgments for her
kind offices in behalf of our work. We hope it
may prove worthy of such kindness.

The Lily.

MUSIC C MP S E D BY GEORGE J. WEBB.

Two Voices.

*--

By cool Siloam's shady rill, How sweet the lily grows !How sweet the breath be-

jCL^_^_5=LIL_-

neath the hill Of Sharon's dewy rose ! Lo, such the child whose early feet^The

K^HS

192

MUSIC THE LILY.

Retard.

paths of peace have trod;Whose secret heart, with influence sweet, Is upwards drawn to

-9-

s-fH*

God! By cool Si - lo-am's shady rill The li-ly must de - cay,

The

rose that blooms beneath the hill Must shortly fade away. Must shortly fade, Must

f 1*~f~1*~F f-p-fi-l. ^n-F JEfcEiS

^CT-J ( 1 1 J i ', 1 J tai x I nmw I "^r

ZI g r g-. r ^^P=Fn ^T-^r-|iqj_^^_p^=]Z|:_=^

dim.

"" <S TT-

shortly fade a-way, Must shortly fade a - way

And soon, too soon, the wintry hour

Of man's maturer age,
Will shake the soul with sorrow's power,

And stormy passion's rage !

O Thou, whose infant feet were found
Within thy Father's shrine !

Whose years with changeless virtue crowned,
Were all alike divine :

Dependent on thy bounteous breath,

We seek thy grace alone,
In childhood, manhood, age, and death,

To keep us still thine own I

ROBERT MERRY'S

MUSEUM.

EDITED BY

S. G. GOODRICH,

AUTHOR OP PETER PARLEY'S TALES,

VOLUME VIM.

BOSTON:

B R A D B II R Y, SOD EN & CO.,

No. 12, SCHOOL STREET.
1844.

Stereotyped by George A. Curtis, New England Type and Stereotype Foundry.

JULY TO DECEMBER, 1844

Jul

July, ......... 1

Military Chivalry, ...... 2

The Life of Martin Luther, .
15 The Two Red Cents

3, 48
9

i Charlotte Corday, ...... 10

Conjugal Affection, ...... 13, 42

The Forget-me-not, ..... 15

Pigs, ......... "

Frederick II., ....... 16

Dick Boldhero, . . . .21,77,100,137,163

The Law of Honor, ..... 24

Cairo, or Kahira, ...... 25

Pictures of Various Nations, ... 26
Small Matters, ....... 28

The Bat Family, ...... 29

Joshua commanding the Sun and Moon to

stand still, ....... 30

Correspondence ..... 31,63,95,127

Happiness. A Song- ...... 32

August, ........ 33

Bill and the Boys, ..... 34,69,132

Natural Curiosity ..... . . 37

The River Nile, ...... 38

The Old Man in the Corner, ... 39
The Hunting Leopard, ..... 41

A Pointed Blow, ...... 44

Inhabitants of an Oyster, .... "

Church of St. Peter's at Rome, ... 45
Fortune Telling, ...... 46

Travelling, ....... 47

English Farmers^ ...... 55

London Menageries ...... 56

A Story of thellevolution ..... 57

Lady Jane Grey, ...... 58, 85

The Bamboo, ....... 61

Practical Advantage of Science, ... "
Grandmother's Scholar, ..... 62

The Snowdrop. A Song; .... 64

September, ....... 65

All Hallows-e'en, ...... 66

Bonaparte's Wit, ...... 68

Tusculan Villa, ...... "

John Howard, ..... . . 73

Lnvewell's War, ..... 74,113

Echoes ......... 76

Inquisitive Jack, ...... 81

Bonaparte, ..... . . 84

Ana, ....... . . . 90

Sir Isaac Newton, ...... "

Lord Mayor's Show, ..... 91

'Joan of Arc, ...... 92,105

Trombone, ....... 95

The Lark. A Song; 96 *

October, 97 f|

The Chinchilla, 98 M

A Branch of Elder, . . . . . . 99 *

A Blacksmith's Shop, 110

The American Panther, 1 1 1 m

The Lion Fight, 118 $

Bear and Child, 119 $,

The Last Flower of the Season, . . . 120 X

The Cunning Bear, 121 j{

The Tiger's Cave, 122 !5

The Ingenious Cricket, 126 -

The Power of Bees, "

Hymn, 127

November in London, 128

The Moon. A Song- "

November, 129

Experience a Teacher 131

Litigation, " &

Scott, "r.il

New Zealand, 135 J&

The Bear and Panther, 144 3|

The Cotton Plant, 147 *

The Election of -President 148 SL

Benjamin Constant, 149 f|

Irish Wit, . " JH

Dr. Watts, " *

Texas 150JJ

A Physician's Dog 153 |fi

Generous Revenge, ... "a?

Prognostics of the Weather, . 154 ^

Job'Printing, 159 $

The Bird of Paradise. A Song, 160 ||

December, 161 M

Flowers, 162 *

The Squirrel and Rattlesnake, . 177

There is Time Enough, . 179

The Folly of War, 180

Wager Lost, "

Anecdote of a Cat, 181

Examination of a School-boy, ..."

A Sly Couple, 182---

The Philosopher Puzzled, ....

Rising Genius, "

The French Officer and his Mastiff, . .183

Laconic, "

A \Vise Parrot, "

Mount Vernon, 184

Anecdotes, 18 "'tl

Farewell to the Old Year 18715

Pleasant Things. A Song,. . . . 18S

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1844, by S. G. GOODRICH, in the Clerk's
Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.

MERRY'S MUSEUM,

Vol. VIII.

JULY, 1844.

No. 1,

" Now comes JULY, and with his fervid noon
Unsinews labor. The swinkt mower sleeps j
The weary maid walks feebly; the warm

swain

Pitches his load reluctant ; the faint steer,
Lashing his sides, draws sulkily along
The slow, encumbered wain in midday heat."

SUCH is the picture of this month, drawn
by an old English poet. With us the
heat is still greater than in England ;
yet the farmers keep busily at work
in the fields ; and, to say truth, it is about
as comfortable to be at work, as to be
idle.

Leigh Hunt, speaking of this month in
England, says, " The heat in this month

VOL. VIII. 1

is greatest on account of its duration.
There is a sense of heat and quiet all
over nature. The birds are silent. The
little brooks are dried up. The earth is
parched. The shadows of the trees are
particularly grateful, heavy and still.
The oaks, which are freshest, because
latest in leaf, form noble, clumpy cano-
pies, looking, as you lie under them, of
a strong emulous green, against the blue
sky. The traveller delights to cut across
the country, through the fields and the
leafy lanes, where nevertheless the flints
sparkle with heat. The cattle get into
the shade, or stand in the water. The

JULY.

active and air-cutting swallows, now be-
ginning to assemble for migration, seek
their prey among the shady places, where
the insects, though of differently com-
pounded natures, 'fleshless and blood-
less,' seem to get for coolness, as they do
at other times for warmth. The sound of
insects is likewise the only audible sound
now, increasing rather than lessening
the sense of quiet by its gentle contrast.
The bee now and then sweeps across the
ear with his gravest tone. The gnats
'Their murmuring mall trumpets sounden wide/

and here and there, the little musician

of the grass touches forth his tricksy

note.

' The poetry of earth is never dead ;
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new mown

mead;
That is the grasshopper's.'

" Besides some of the flowers of the last
month, there are candy-tufts, catch-fly,
columbines, egg plant, French marigold,
lavateras, marvel of Peru, verducas, tube
joses, which seem born of the white rose
and lily ; and scarlet beans, which, though
we are apt to think little of them, because
they furnish us with a good vegetable,
are quick and beautiful growing, and in
a few weeks will hang a walk or trellis,
with an exuberant tapestry of scarlet and
green.

" The fruits begin to abound, and are
more noticed in proportion to the neces-
sity for them, occasioned by the summer
heat. The strawberries are in their
greatest quantity and perfection; and
currants, gooseberries and raspberries,
have a world of juice for us, prepared
as it were, in so many crowds of little
bottles, in which the sunshine has turned

the dew of April into wine. The straw-
berry lurks about under a beautiful leaf.
Currants are also extremely beautiful.
A handsome bunch looks like pearls,
or rubies, and an imitation of it would
make a most graceful earring.

" It is now the season for bathing ;
a refreshment too little taken in this
country, either in summer or winter.
We say in winter, because with very
little care in placing it in a cistern, and
having a leathern pipe for it, a bath may
be easily filled once or twice a week
with warm water; and it is a vulgar
error that the warm bath relaxes."

MILITARY CHIVALRY. " I heard once,"
said Father Phil, " a pretty little bit of
an anecdote about the way the French
behaved to one of our Irish regiments
on a retreat in Spain. They were going
through a river they were and the
French, taking advantage of their help-
less condition, were peppering away at
them hard and fast, until some women
ran down, poor creatures, to the shore,
and the stream was so deep in the mid-
dle that they could scarcely ford it ; so
some dragoons, who were galloping as
fast as they could out of the fire, pulled
up on seeing the condition of the woman-
kind, and each horseman took up a wo-
man behind him, though it diminished
his own power of flying from the danger.
The moment the French saw this act of
manly courage, they ceased firing, and
gave a cheer for the dragoons ; and as
long as the women were within gun-shot,
not a trigger was pulled in the French
line, but volleys of cheers instead of ball
cartridges, were sent after the brigade
till all the women were over."

THE LIFE OF MARTIN LUTHER.

The Life of Martin Luther.

fms famous man was born at E isle-
ben, then in Saxony, but now within
the limits of Prussia. His father,
Hans, or John Luther, was a native
of Mora, near Eisenach ; he was origin-
ally a woodcutter, and in very humble
circumstances. His wife often carried
the wood to market on her back. On the
occasion of a fair at the latter place, the
parents both went thither, and on the
night of their arrival, November 10, 1483,
the mother gave birth to a son. This
occurred on the eve of St. Martin's day,
and hence the infant was called Martin.
Six months after this event, the parents
went to live at Mansfeld, and ten miles
from Eisleben, where the father pursued
the business of a miner with great suc-
cess.

Young Luther was brought up in the
strict habits and under the severe dis-
cipline of the age. His father was ac-
customed to inflict on him cruel chas-
tisements, and his mother, for a mere
trifle, whipped him till the blood came.
Such was the general system of family
government at that day. When suffi-
ciently advanced, Martin Luther was
sent to Eisenach, where he had access
to an institution which taught the learn-
ing of the time. But he had no friends,
and was obliged to procure his own bread.
For this purpose, he used to go about the
streets, with some of his companions as
poor as himself, singing at the door of
such as would listen. He had a fine
talent for music, and though he often
chanted the favorite songs and ballads

THE LIFE OF MARTIN LUTHER.

of the day, he also sometimes sung his
own compositions. This he was accus-
tomed to call " bread music."

In one of his excursions, he came to
the house of a respectable man, named
Conrad Cotta. Before it rose some lofty
trees. In the shadow of these, young
Martin threw himself down, and his
heart being burdened with sadness, he
poured forth his feelings in a strain of
plaintive melody. The wife of Conrad,
attracted by the melancholy tones, came
to the door, and invited the youth to en-
ter. She then placed before him the fare
her humble house afforded. The boy's
gratitude, ardently expressed, touched
her heart, and she invited him to come
again. Thus an acquaintance began, and
Luther was, after a short time, invited
to take up his residence at the house,
which he did ; and thus, relieved from
the evils of poverty, he was able to pros-
ecute his studies. Long after, when his
fame filled all Europe, these kind and
efficient friends had the pleasure to re-
flect that the great Reformer was the
hungry ballad-singer, whom they had
comforted and cherished in the days of
poverty.

Having spent five years at Eisenach,
Luther was sent, in 1501, to the univer-
sity of Erfurth, then a respectable semi-
nary, but since suppressed. His father
wished him to study law, but he had
little inclination for this, and devoted
himself to general literature and music,
which latter he continued to cultivate
through life. At the university, he show-
ed the jovial, careless disposition which
generally marks the German student.
He was, however, much struck when
one day searching for an old book in the

library, to meet with a copy of the Bible.
He had before thought that all sacred
writings were contained in the portions
which were read in the churches. This
discovery doubtless gave occasion to
much reflection.

In 1505, an event occurred, which
changed the current of Luther's thoughts,
and gave direction to his future life. He
was a lover of nature, and one day in-
dulging his taste in this respect, he was
rambling through the fields with a friend.
A storm was gathering over their heads,
but they continued the conversation,
which had relation to some serious sub-
ject. In the mind of Luther, the pealing
thunder was the type of the future judg-
ment. He turned to speak to his com-
panion, when, at the very instant, the
latter was struck dead by a flash of
lightning. Luther stood a moment in
fear and awe ; he then knelt by the side of
his companion, and lifting his eyes to
Heaven, he made a solemn vow to de-
vote his future life to the service of God.
Educated in the Catholic faith, this was
equivalent to a vow that he would enter
a monastery and become a monk, which
he did in 1505, in spite of his father's
remonstrances.

It was in the Augustine convent of
Erfurth. that Luther had now taken his
vows. With the ardor and sincerity of
his character, he devoted himself to re-
ligious contemplation ; but he did not, in
the retirement of the cloister, find the
peace he sought and anticipated. He
was haunted by temptations, and dis-
tressed by scruples and doubts. He dis-
covered what had not before been sug-
gested to his mind, that, in the absence of
substantial enemies found in the world,

THE LIFE OF MARTIN LUTHER.

the mind may people the solitary cell
with demons, which have the power as
effectually to stab our peace.

In the convent Luther at last found a
friend, who understood his character and
ministered to his spiritual wants. This
was Staupnitz, the provincial of the or-
der, or ecclesiastical governor of the
Augustine convents in the district of
Erfurth. He was an intelligent, honest,
and kindhearted man, and by advice,
instruction, and encouragement, cleared
the mind and lightened the heart of the
distracted votary.

The talents of Luther were soon ap-
preciated, and in 1508, at the instance
of Staupnitz, he was appointed a profes-
sor of philosophy in the university of
Wittenberg. He here delivered lectures,
which were well attended, and which
were marked by a freedom of thought
and manner unusual at that day. In
1510, he was sent to Italy, on business
connected with the order, which laid the
foundation of a great change in his views.

Luther was a sincere votary of the
Catholic Church. With the simplicity
of an honest mind, he supposed that he
should find religion in its utmost purity
at Rome, and that the Pope, the head of
the church, would be a fit representative
of the Holy Apostle of whom he claimed
to be the successor. How was he doomed
to be disappointed in these views !

On his arrival at the city of Milan, he
was received into one of the convents as
a guest. Here he found his brethren,
instead of devoting themselves to the
austerities of religion, as was the case at
Wittenberg, addicted to every species of
luxury. In the seclusion of their clois-
ters, they sat down to sumptuous tables,

loaded with luscious viands, delicious
fruits and choice wines. Sheltered from
the observation of the world, they cast
aside the forms and ceremonies of their
order, and gave themselves up to license
and indulgence. Fasts were neglected
penances despised. Luther looked on
with horror, and at last, unable to re-
strain his emotions, broke forth in terms
of reprobation of these debaucheries.

The monks, being alarmed lest they
should be exposed, caused poison to be
administered to Luther ; the dose was
slight, and they intended to repeat it ;
but finding himself unwell in the night,
he arose and set forward upon his jour-
ney. He thus unconsciously baffled his
enemies, though his health suffered for
a long time from the effects of the poison
he had taken.

Pursuing his way chiefly on foot, Lu-
ther at last arrived at Rome. When he
reached the city, his heart burning with
religious veneration, he knelt down, lift-
ed his hands to Heaven, and exclaimed
" I salute thee, Holy Rome, sanctified by
the blood of the martyrs!" With an
eagerness that nothing could repress, he
now ran from place to place, all seeming
in his pious imagination to be consecra-
ted ground.

The pope at that time was Julius II.
He was a man little calculated to satisfy
the views of Luther. He had arisen
from an humble condition to the loftiest
pitch of earthly power. Nothing could
be more directly opposed to the meek
spirit of Christianity than his whole soul
and character. He was a subtle poli-
tician, a bold and ambitious statesman,
an impetuous and determined warrior*
How was Luther shocked, when he ex-

THE LIFE OF MARTIN LUTHER.

pected to hear of the pious virtues of his
Holiness, to find him only spoken of for
his gigantic ambition ; his worldly poli-
cy; his achievements in the field, as com-
mander of his own forces ; his magnifi-
cent schemes of earthly aggrandizement,
alike respecting himself and the papal
see!

One of his schemes of ambition was to
erect a church at Rome, surpassing all
others in magnificence. Accordingly, in
1506, four years before Luther's arrival,
the corner stone of St. Peter's was laid.
In a few months, pushed on by the zeal
of the pontiff, the walls were towering
over the other churches of Rome; but
this precipitation caused the enormous
masses to crack, and thus, the progress
of the vast enterprise was retarded. It
was not till long after that this edifice
was finished. The expense was enor-
mous, and it will hereafter be seen that
this had a direct connection with the
reformation of which Luther was the
great instrument.

During his short stay at Rome, Luther
beheld the pope in a religious proces-
sion. He was raised on a platform, and
carried on the shoulders of priests, who
deemed it a favor thus to bear the sacred
representative of God on earth. His
head was bowed upon his breast in token
of humility, but he was attired in the
most gorgeous robes. His crown glitter-
ing with jewels, was borne on a cushion
by the highest dignitaries. Then fol-
lowed others with fans, of peacock and
ostrich plumes, which they waved around
the person of the pontiff, to guard it from
every unhallowed mote. Then came the
retinue of cardinals and bishops with
crosses and relics, and incense, and mu-

sic, and lighted tapers, and revered tro-
phies, with all the pomp and circum-
stance, that human ingenuity, seeking to
capture the imagination, could invent.
The mighty pageant swept by, " and
this," said Luther, " was all I saw of
religion in Rome."

He stayed but a fortnight in that city.
He was disheartened and disgusted with
what he saw. Rome was filled with
vice of every horrid form, and every
degree of enormity. He found, too, that
the pope and his cardinals were mere
men of the world, that the priests were
generally voluptuaries, and many of them
open infidels. Admitted as he was to
intimacy with many of them, he found
that they often made a jest and mockery
of the most holy rites, and even while
performing the offices of the sacrament,
in a sort of by-play turned them into
ridicule, and sneered at the deluded
people who looked with reverence upon
these ceremonies. He hastened back
to Germany, his heart distressed, his
mind bewildered, his faith shaken. It
was this going to Rome, however, that
laid the foundation of his subsequent
career.

Having returned to Wittenberg, Luther
devoted himself to his professorship,
seeking peace of mind in a vigorous dis-
charge of its duties. Staupnitz, who saw
his great powers, urged him to become a
doctor of divinity. Luther consented,
and Frederick, Elector of Saxony, and
called the Wise, being proud of him, as
a native of his dominion, and an orna-
ment of the university, paid the expenses
of his inauguration.

Julius II. died February 13, 1513, and
the Cardinal Jean de Medicis, under the

THE LIFE OF MARTIN LUTHER.

name of Leo X., became the pope. In
1517, he authorized the sale of indul-
gences in Germany, as Julius II. had
done in France, Poland, &c. The avow-
ed object was to raise money to defray
the expenses of the Church of St. Peter's
at Rome, and to sustain the Christian
league against the Turks. Very little,
however, of the vast sums of money
obtained, was devoted to the objects for
which it was avowedly raised.

The practice of granting indulgences,
had existed for centuries before the time
of Luther. The Romish Church, assum-
ing to embody the power of Christ,
claimed the privilege of remitting the
penalty and averting the punishment,
here and hereafter, of any sin com-
mitted, provided it was confessed and
repented of. A penance was often im-
posed, as the condition of such remission
and forgiveness. This penance frequent-
ly was commuted for a sum of money,
given to the church. Thus money, in
the light of penance, became one of the
means and instruments by which sin
was to be pardoned. From this position,
the next step, the sale of indulgences,
was obvious and easy. The popes and
priests wanted money, and holding the
consciences of men in their grasp, they
easily laid them under contribution.

Leo's chief agent in the sale of indul-
gences was a Dominican monk, by the
name of Tetzel. He was a man of high
rank and station in the church, and
possessed all the address, cunning and
effrontery necessary to success in such
a business. Clothed with the full power
of the pope, and encompassed by all
the insignia of the church, his man-
ner was lofty and his aspect imposing.
He was paid eighty florins, or forty

dollars, a month, beside all his expenses.
He was allowed a carriage and three
horses. His perquisites, however, far
exceeded his regular pay. His success
was so great, that at the town of Freyberg,
he sold indulgences to the amount of
two thousand florins, in two days.

To show the effrontery of the man,
thus employed by the pope, we may state
that he was guilty of the most abomina-
ble profligacy, and though a priest, sworn
to celibacy, carried about with him two
of his own children ! These things, how-
ever, did not prevent the success of his
traffic. When he came to a place, he
went into the church, and set up a cross,
with the pope's arms suspended upon it.
He then ascended the pulpit, and ad-
dressed the multitude who gathered to
hear him.

He declared that indulgences " are the
most precious and sublime gifts of God ; "
that " this cross has as much efficacy as
the cross of Christ." " Draw near, and
I will give you letters, duly sealed, by
which even the sins you shall hereafter
devise and commit, shall all be forgiven
you." " I would not exchange my privi-
leges for those of St. Peter in Heaven,
for I have saved more souls with my
indulgences, than he with his sermons."
" There is no sin so great that the in-
dulgence cannot remit it " " only pay
largely, and the greatest crime shall be
forgiven ! " " Even repentance is not
indispensable."

Having thus set forth the tempting
qualities of his merchandise, he would
appeal to the feelings of his auditors :
he would draw terrible pictures of the
torments of purgatory, to which they
were all exposed, and bright ones of the
bliss of the heaven they could so easily

THE LIFE OF MARTIN LUTHER.

purchase ; he painted the torments of
those already in the fires of hell, and ap-
pealed to friends around, to know if they
would not buy an indulgence for them
for they could even reach such as had
already entered into judgment. " Yes,"
said he, " the very moment that the
money clinks against the bottom of the
chest, the soul escapes from purgatory,
and flies free to Heaven ! "

Thus every art and device was adopt-
ed, to cheat the people into the purchase
of these impious, corrupting and fraudu-
lent papers. At the present day, it would
be matter of course, that such practices
would be punished by confinement in
the state's prison ; but at that period,
under the high sanction of the church,
the fraud was not detected by the mass,
and multitudes readily availed them-
selves of the opportunity to appease their
consciences for past crimes, and to fortify
themselves in impunity for future iniqui-
ty. It is scarcely possible to conceive
of the state of darkness into which the
minds of men had sunk, at this period.
Was it not necessary, that reformation
should be wrought in that church, which
had brought mankind to this condition ?

The people flocked in crowds to Tetzel
and his coadjutors. Men and women,
the young and the old, the poor, and
even beggars, came and with money
too for such was the eagerness to pos-
sess the proffered blessings, that all
would in some way obtain the means.
Close by the cross, and in the church, the
seller had a counter, where he received
his money and delivered the indulgences.
Confession was administered to the pur-
chaser, but this was a mere form ; it was
not insisted that penitence must be a con-
dition of pardon. Kings, queens, princes,

archbishops and bishops, were to pay
twenty-five ducats; abbots, counts, barons,
&c., ten ducats. Thus the prices were
graduated to the condition of the pur-
chaser ; and indeed, special bargains
were made suited to the ability of the
applicant, and the nature of the sins he
wished to expiate.^

Although the mass of the people be-
lieved in the efficacy of indulgences, and
the propriety of their sale, there were
many who condemned the whole traffic
as a cheat. Among these was a gentle-
man of Saxony, who heard Tetzel at
Leipsic, and was much shocked at the
imposture. He went to the church, and

* The following is a copy of an indulgence,
in the common form.

"Our Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on
thee, N. N., and absolve thee by the merits of
his most holy sufferings ! And I, in virtue of
the apostolic power committed to me, absolve
thee from all ecclesiastical censures, judgments
and penalties that thou mayest have merited ;
and further, from all excesses, sins, and crimes,
that thou mayest have committed, however
great and enormous they may be, and of what-
ever kind, even though they should be reserved
to our holy father the Pope, and to the Apostolic
See. I efface all the stains of weakness, and
all traces of the shame that thou mayest have
drawn upon thyself by such actions. I remit
the pains that thou wouldst have had to en-
dure in purgatory. I receive thee again to the
sacraments of the church. I hereby reincorpo-
rate thee in the communion of the saints, and
restore thee to the innocence and purity of thy
baptism ; so that, at the moment of death, the
gate of the place of torment shall be shut
against thee, and the gate of the paradise of
joy shall be opened unto thee. And if thou
shouldst live long, this grace continueth un-
changeable, till the time of thy end.

"In the name of the Father, of the Son, and
of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

" The brother, John Tetzel, commissary, hath
signed this with his own hand."

THE TWO RED CENTS.

asked him if he was authorized to pardon
sins of intention- or such as he intended
to commit ? Tetzel replied in the affirm-
ative, and after some chaffing, the gen-
tleman paid thirty crowns for an indul-
gence, by which he was to be forgiven
for beating one against whom he had a
grudge.

Soon after this Tetzel set out from
Leipsic, and this Saxon gentleman, over-
taking him in the forests of Jutterbock,
gave him a severe drubbing, and carried
off the box in which he had his treasures.
Tetzel raised a great clamor for this act
of violence, and brought an action before
the judges of the district against the per-
petrator. The latter, however, pleaded
the indulgence, and was fully acquitted.

Luther, at this time, was professor of
Theology at Wittenberg, and he soon
had an opportunity of seeing the effects
of Tetzel's operations. Upon some per-
sons under his spiritual charge, he en-
joined penance ; but they refused to
submit to this, declaring that they had
been released from every penalty by
Tetzel. Luther having denied them
absolution, because they would not sub-
mit to the prescribed penance, some of
them went to Tetzel, and made com-
plaints of Luther. Upon this, the former
threatened with punishment, here and
hereafter, all those who should deny the
efficiency of his indulgences.

(To be continued.)

The Two Red Cents.

GROCER in Clinton county sold a
drunkard a pint of new rum accord-
ing to law, and made two red cents
clear profit. The drunkard shot his

son-in-law while intoxicated; and his
apprehension, confinement in jail, exe-
cution, &c. cost the county more than
one thousand dollars which temperate
men had to earn by the sweat of their
brows ! What say tax-payers ? Are you
willing to pay a thousand dollars to en-
able the grog-seller to make two red
cents ?

But this case is comparatively nothing
when contrasted with a recent transac-
tion about the 1st of July, 1843. An
Indian, one of those half-civilized, rum-
loving creatures who abound in the West,
stepped out of Cataraugus county into
the State of Pennsylvania, where, it
seems, men are sold indulgences to sin,
as well as in the Empire State; and then
filled his pocket-bottle with real " Red-
eye," and the seller of the poison made
two red cents clear profit again. While
under its maddening influence, he went
into a farmer's house near by with whom
he was totally unacquainted, and mur-
dered a mother and five children ; all
that comprised the little family, except
the husband and father, who was from
home. When he returned to his little
interesting family what a sight met his
eyes ! enough, it would seem, to curdle
his blood, and change the man to stone.
There lay the mother and her five little
ones from ten years of age down to in-
fancy, stretched upon the floor swim-
ming in blood, and all dead ! Oh ! what
desolation was there !

" No more for him the blazing hearth shall burn,

Or busy housewife ply her evening care j
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
And climb his knee, the envied kiss to share.'

Misgive, that you may not mistake.

CHARLOTTE CORDAY.

Charlotte Corday,

IHERE are few incidents of the French
Revolution more intensely interest-
ing than those which relate to Char-
lotte Corday. Paris was the scene
of the most violent commotions that have
ever heen witnessed in civilized society.
All France was agitated with the strife
of parties that wrestled with each other
in the capital. The hearts of men seem-
ed to be filled with frenzy. The com-
mon bonds of society were rent asunder ;

new and strange ideas took possession
of the minds of tlie people. In the midst
of this excitement, and wrought up by
the fever of the time, to a design beyond
her sex, Charlotte Corday appeared upon
the theatre of action, and arrested even
the attention of the maddened populace
of Paris, by her heroic self-devotion.

The triumph of the Jacobins over the
rival Girondists in May, 1793, rendered
their power uncontrollable. Marat was

CHARLOTTE CORDAY.

treated with more honor and respect than
any individual since the revolution, and
exerted a sway in the Convention and the
clubs more absolute than was ever before
known in bodies styled deliberative. In
fact, they submitted to all his whims and
caprices, and seemed to derive to them-
selves honor from the submission. His
extravagances were more bearable from
the obvious certainty that the wretch was
hastening to the grave, and that nothing
could save him. His constitution was
never good, and at this time, he was
preyed upon by a leprous complaint;
which adding its ravages to his natural
deformity and habitual want of personal
cleanliness, rendered him a most dis-
gusting object. But this man of blood
was not destined to end his days by
disease.

Of the Girondists, some were arrested
and executed, others succeeded in esca-
ping, and were outlawed. Of this latter
class, a number, among them Barbaroux,
he whose beauty of person and energy
of mind could move the heart of the phi-
losophic Madame Roland, had taken
refuge at Caen. They held daily meet-
ings at the town-hall, and thither fre-
quently came Charlotte Corday, a young
lady of stately figure, with an open and
intelligent countenance, and about twen-
ty-five years of age. Her deportment
was modest ; she was of studious and
meditative habits, and was a republican
before the revolution. In her visits to
the town-hall, she was always attended
by a servant, and her inquiry was for
Barbaroux, with whom she had been long
acquainted, and with whom she pretend-
ed to have business. She now heard
much of the atrocities of the Terrorists ;

of the ferocity of Marat, who held in his
hands the destiny of her country, and
what was as much to her, the fate of
Barbaroux. Patriotism and love both
prompted her to the commission of an
act, by which, at the sacrifice of her own
life, she should be the savior both of her
country and her friend.

A nun of Caen was desirous to obtain
some family papers which were in the
office of the Minister of the Interior at
Paris. Charlotte offered to proceed thither
to procure them, and was furnished by
Barbaroux, with a letter of introduction
to his friend Dupenet, who would aid her
in procuring them.

On the 9th of July we find her seated
in the diligence, and the details of her
journey are thus given in a letter to
Barbaroux.

"You requested an account of my
journey, and I will not excuse you from
the slightest anecdotes. I travelled with
good mountaineers, whom I suffered to
talk as much as they pleased, and their
discourse, which was as absurd as their
persons were disagreeable, contributed
not a little to lull me to sleep. I was
not perfectly awake till I arrived at Paris.
One of my fellow travellers, who is, un-
doubtedly an admirer of sleepy women,
took me for the daughter of one of his
old friends, supposed me possessed of a
fortune which I have not, gave me a
name which I never heard, and, in con-
clusion, offered me his hand and fortune.
When I was tired of his conversation,
I said, 'We are admirable comedians,
what a pity that, with such talents, we
have no spectators ; I will go and fetch
our fellow-travellers, that they may have
their share of the amusement.' I left

CHARLOTTE CORDAY.

him in a very ill humor; all night he
sung plaintive songs, excellent procrea-
tives of sleep. At length I parted with
him at Paris, refusing to give him my
address, or that of my father, of whom he
wished to ask me in marriage."

She delivered her letter to Dupenet,
and the ostensible object of her journey
was accomplished. But she said nothing
of returning. She visited the Conven-
tion. Marat was not there, he was con-
fined to his house by sickness. She
proceeded thither, but was refused ad-
mittance.

She returned to her inn, and de-
spatched a note, telling him that she was
from Caen, the seat of rebellion ; that she
desired earnestly to see him, and would
put it in his power to do France a great
service. She received no answer. She
wrote another note still more pressing,
and carried it herself to the door. He
was just leaving his bath, but her busi-
ness was urgent, and she was admitted
to his presence. " I am from Caen," said
she, " and wished to speak with you."
" Be seated, my child. What are the
traitors doing at Caen ? What deputies
are at Caen ? " He took out his tablets,
and wrote down the names as Charlotte
gave them, " Louvet, Petion, Barba-
roux ; I will have them all guillotined at
Paris within a fortnight." " Then you
shall precede them," exclaimed Char-
lotte, and plunged a dagger through his
heart.

She was at once seized and committed
to prison. We will again quote from
her letter to Barbaroux. " I expected to
have been instantly put to death, but
some men, truly courageous, preserved
me from the excusable rage of those I

had rendered unhappy. As I really
preserved my presence of mind, I felt
hurt at the exclamations of some women,
but those who save their country think
nothing of the cost. May peace be es-
tablished as soon as I wish it ! For these
two days I have enjoyed a delicious state
of mental repose. The happiness of my
country constitutes mine ; there is no
act of self-devotion which does not over-
pay in pleasure, the pain of resolving
to adopt it. I never hated but one single
being, and I have demonstrated how
violent that hatred was. But there are
thousands whom I love with more
warmth than I hated him. A lively ima-
gination and a feeling heart promise but
a stormy life ; I beg those who may re-
gret my fate to think of this, and they
will rejoice at seeing me enjoy repose
in the Elysian fields with Brutus and a
few of the ancients. As for the moderns,
there are few real patriots, who know
how to die for their country; they are
almost all selfish. What a people to
form a republic ! I am exceedingly well
accommodated in my prison ; the jailors
are the best kind of people in the world ;
to keep away ennui they have placed
soldiers in my room. I have no objec-
tion to make to this by day, but by night
it is not so pleasant. I have complained
of the indecency, but no one has thought
fit to attend to my remonstrance. * *
My trial comes on to-morrow at eight ;
probably at noon, according to the Ro-
man phrase, I shall have lived. I cannot
say how I shall encounter my last mo-
ments ; I have no need to affect insensi-
bility, for I never yet knew the fear of
death, and never loved life but in propor-
tion to its possible utility."

CONJUGAL AFFECTION.

On the 17th of July she was put on
trial, and avowed the fact and all the
circumstances, alleging, as justification,
that she considered Marat a criminal
already convicted by public opinion, and
that she had a right to put him to death.
She added, that she did not expect to
have been brought to trial, but to have
been delivered up to the rage of the
populace, torn to pieces, and that her
head, borne on a pike before the corpse
of Marat, would have served as a rallying
point to Frenchmen, if any still existed
worthy of the name.

She was led from the place of trial to
that of execution. On the way she dis-
played a firmness and tranquillity which
even awed into silence the poissardes,
those furies of the guillotine, who in
general pursued the victim to death with
execrations and reproaches. She sub-
mitted to her fate with the same compo-
sure that had marked all her previous
conduct.

The circumstances which attended this
extraordinary action, the privacy with
which it was concerted, the resolution
with which it was executed, the openness
of confession, the contempt of punish-
ment, and, above all, the execrable char-
acter of the monster who was the subject
of it, have taken off so much of the horror
generally felt at an act of assassination
that the name of Charlotte Corday is
generally pronounced with respect and
a great degree of admiration.

GRAMMATICAL WITTICISM. " Bobby,

what 's steam ? " " Boiling water."

"/ithat 's right. Compare it." "Positive,

t boil; comparative, boiler; superlative,

burst."

Conjugal Affection,

CHAPTER I.

NE of the most remarkable instances
of conjugal affection is furnished by
the story of Victoria Colonna, which
I will relate.

The Marquis de Colonna was accused
by one of the emissaries of the Inquisi-
tion, of heresy and treason ; and at the
instigation of his uncle, Montalbert, who
wished to ruin him, through private ha-
tred, Colonna was seized and thrown
into a dungeon, his chateau ransacked,
and his wife and child were dispossessed
of their inheritance.

Colonna had been conveyed to the
castle of St. Angelo, and this was all
that could be heard respecting him.
Whether he had been tried and con-
victed, could not be learned. He was,
in short, as dead to the world and all his
family and connections, as if he had suf-
fered the usual lot of mortality ; and as
such occurrences were by no means
uncommon in the Italian states during
the reign of papal tyranny, Colonna was
speedily forgotten by all except his faith-
ful wife, Victoria.

Although interdicted by the cruel laws
of the Inquisition, and threatened with
the denunciations of the spiritual pater,
Victoria traversed nightly the walls of
the great citadel ; sometimes wading up
to her knees in the Tiber, when making
the circuit of the towers and bastions,
listening in the midnight hour for the
slightest sigh, or footfall, that might re-
veal to her the cell in which her beloved
husband was immured. But for several
months, all her efforts to discover it were
unavailing. Yet, nothing daunted by

CONJUGAL AFFECTION.

want of success, and feeling no love of
life but in her husband's company, the
faithful woman still continued in the
fond and axious hope that Heaven would,
at its fitting time, listen to her prayers,
and that she should again be blessed
with a sight of him so dear to her, or
that she should at least become ac-
quainted with his fate.

Nor were her hopes in the end disap-
pointed ; for, early one morning, as she
was finishing her accustomed nightly
wanderings round the black and deso-
late pile, her attention was aroused,
about the time of dawn, by the clattering
of a chip of a tile from the battlements,
which fell close to her feet. She imme-
diately looked for the falling object ; her
quick hopes immediately surmising it to
be some signal from the one she sought.
Nor was she disappointed ; the tile had
been scratched upon by a nail, arid on it
were inscribed the names of Albert and
Victoria. In a moment of rapture, she
pressed the tablet to her heart, fell on her
knees, and offered her thanks to Heaven.
She then turned her eyes toward the
lofty towers, and again small fragments
of stone were made to descend from a
small grating about half way towards the
top. " Here then," she ejaculated, " here
is the cell of my beloved husband." She
was confirmed in her thoughts, by per-
ceiving the delicate hand of Albert
thrust through the narrow aperture of
the bars ; and the sight of it so affected
her that she fell down in a swoon, over-
come with hope and love and joy.

When she recovered, she made the
best of her way to her dwelling in the
city, and immediately began to concert
measures for her husband's escape. But

when she considered the height and
thickness of the walls, the vigilance of
the guards, the jealousy of the priest-
hood, the suspicions of her neighbors,
and the espionage of the minions of the
Inquisition, she almost despaired. Yet,
as she fervently trusted in Heaven for
aid, she determined to use every effort
to accomplish her object, and sat down
at once to consider the best means of
doing so.

The first difficulty that presented it-
self was that of establishing communica-
tion between herself and the prisoner,
this the quickness of her mind immedi-
ately overcame ; or at least fancied it
could. She thought that by raising a
small paper kite by the side of the tower,
its string might be easily made to pass
over the grated aperture of the dungeon.
But how was the prisoner to be made
acquainted with the operation, which
must necessarily be made in darkness,
and at a time of night, when people are
usually in a deep slumber ?

Waving all difficulties, however, she
determined to make the attempt on the
following night. As soon as it was
night, she put on the disguise of one of
those miserable wretches who search
and prowl about on the muddy banks of
the river to pick up the refuse of the city.
The wind was fortunately fresh, as it
was late in the month of October. She
had not forgotten to provide herself with
the fragile instrument upon which her
hopes were built. It was a small pEiper
kite, formed of oil paper, stretched upon
two cross pieces of very fine whalebc ne ;
and for a string, she employed "he
strongest silk she could procure. The
kite was with some difficulty at leng* T

CONJUGAL AFFECTION.

raised, and fluttered up at the sides of
the tower. With great patience and
ingenuity, the indefatigable wife brought
it close against the grating from which
the tile had been thrown. The wind
caused it to beat and flutter against the
bars. It aroused the prisoner. He put
his hand forth, and succeeded in obtain-
ing the kite.

Although all was dark, yet the expect-
ant prisoner had light enough in his own
thoughts to see that this was the part of
some plan for his deliverance ; and he
could attribute it to no one but to her
whom he knew to be attached to him in
life or death. Finding, therefore, the
string still held below, he gave it several
pulls. This was felt by Victoria, who,
overjoyed beyond measure, fastened a
note to its extremity, explaining the
plan for his escape, and promising on
the next night, by the same means, to
make another communication ; and hav-
ing so far succeeded, she withdrew.

I need not attempt to describe the
feverish anxiety of the following day,
both to the prisoner and his wife. To
Victoria, as well as to Albert, it was an
age in length. At length, however, the
night did arrive, and at the accustomed
hour, Victoria again raised her little kite,
and by this means established a commu-
nication as before ; and through its in-
strumentality, she supplied the prisoner
with paper and pencil to communicate
his wishes and his desires.

On the next night, Albert prepared an
account of what had befallen him since
the period of his arrest; that he had
been three times examined before the
Inquisition, and exhorted to confess;
that he expected daily again to be sum-

moned ; and that he had been threatened
to be put to the torture. He also begged
her to make herself well acquainted with
the plan of the prison, its avenues, pas-
sages, and character of its keepers ; and
if possible, to obtain an admission within
the walls.

[To be continued.]

ORIGIN OF THE FLOWER " FORGET-ME-
NOT." Mills, in his work on chivalry,
mentions that the beautiful little flower
" forget-me-not," was known in England
as early as Edward the Fourth, and in a
note gives the following pretty incident :
" Two lovers were loitering along the
margin of a lake on a fine summer's
evening, when the maiden discovered
some flowers growing in the water close
to the bank of an island at some distance
from the shore. She expressed a desire
to possess them, when her knight, in the
true spirit of chivalry, plunged into the
water, and, swimming to the spot, cropped
the wished-for plant ; but his strength
was unable to fulfil the object of his
achievement ; and feeling that he could
not regain the shore, although very near
it, he threw the flowers on the bank, and
casting a last affectionate look on his
lady-love, said, Forget me not,' and was
buried in the water."

PIGS. The editor of the New York
Sunday Mercury appears to hold young
pigs in very high esteem, having dedi-
cated a piece of poetry entirely to juve-
nile porkers. He intimates, however,
that he should like them better, if they
didn't make hogs of themselves when
they grew up.

FREDERICK II.

Frederick II,

fHis king of Prussia, who acquired the
title of the great, was born on the
24th of January, 1712. He was
reared in the school of adversity ;
his father, Frederick William, being a
brutal tyrant, even in his own family.
To escape from this domestic tyranny,
which was almost insupportable, he
planned a clandestine flight from Prus-
sia, with a confidant by the name of De
Katt. His father discovered this before
it could be carried into effect. The con-
sequence was, that Frederick was ar-
rested along with his friend, and both
were instantly tried before an obedient
court-martial, which condemned them to
death. This sentence would have been
carried into effect against the Prince, but
for the interposition of Charles the Vlth,
of Austria, to whose earnest entreaties
Frederick "William at length yielded*

with the prophetic remark that " Austria
would one day discover what a serpent
she had nourished in her bosom."

The prince, however, suffered a long
and severe imprisonment, in the fort of
Custrin, where, as if to aggravate his
punishment, the unfortunate De Katt was
beheaded on a scaffold, raised before his
apartment, to the level of the window,
from which he was compelled to witness
this cruel and afflicting spectacle. His
subsequent treatment in prison was as
harsh and severe as that of the meanest
felon, and a considerable time elapsed
before he found the means of softening
its rigor.

This was at length managed through
the instrumentality of a Baron Wrech,
whose family lived in the neighborhood,
and who, at considerable risk as well as
expense, furnished him with books, mu-

FREDERICK II.

sic, and other comforts. By degrees he
so gained upon his gaoler, that he was
permitted, under cover of the night, to
visit at the Baron's residence; and as
the young Wrechs were sprightly and
accomplished, as well as anxious to serve
him, they got up little concerts for his
amusement. In this way, for upwards
of a year, his imprisonment was greatly
ameliorated.

The old king at last relented, and
Frederick obtained his liberty ; but it
was only on the special condition that
he married Elizabeth Christina, a prin-
cess of the house of Brunswick. This
forced marriage proved utterly abortive
of the object intended by the tyran-
nical old match-maker, for Frederick
never lived with the princess, although,
through life, he treated her with the
greatest respect. She was a woman of
meritorious conduct, but quite destitute
of personal attractions.

Frederick's marriage took place in
1732, and from that time till the death
of his father in 1740, he resided at
Rheinsberg, a village some leagues from
Berlin. During this interval of eight
years, he devoted himself chiefly to lite-
rary pursuits, and wrote his Anti-Machi-
avel, and Reflections on the Character of
Charles XII. The social circle with
which he was connected at this time,
consisted mostly of learned and inge-
nious Frenchmen, and probably that cir-
cumstance contributed to imbue him
with the strong predilection which he
ever afterwards displayed in favor of
everything French.

His accession to the throne in 1740,
brought at once into action the whole
energies of his character. He himself

VOL. VIII, 2

entered personally upon all the duties,
usually committed by kings to their
ministers ; and in order to accomplish
the multiplicity of business which thus
devolved upon him, he laid down strict
rules for the appropriation of his time, to
which he ever afterwards scrupulously
adhered. He rose regularly at four in
the morning, occupying but a few min-
utes with his dress, of which, however,
he was careless even to slovenliness ;
and this practice he continued till a late
period of his life.

The details of a peaceful administra-
tion were, however, found quite inade-
quate to the activity of his mind. Ac-
cordingly, in the first year of his reign,
he resolved on war ; but, unfortunately
for his character, it was a war of aggres-
sion a war, too, against a female, and
the heir of the very house which had
saved him from the scaffold. He re-
solved to wrest Silesia from Maria
Theresa, of Austria, and in less than
two years he accomplished this object,
the province being ceded to him by the
treaty of Breslaw, in 1742. It has ever
since continued to form a part of the
Prussian dominions.

The acquisition of Silesia, and the
grasping policy of Frederick seem to
have excited the jealousy of other Eu-
ropean powers, as well as the enmity of
Austria ; for a new war broke out in
1742, in which, after a good deal of
bloodshed, Prussia was again victorious,
and had the possession of Silesia con-
firmed to her by a new treaty.

In the succeeding ten years, Frede-
rick sedulously cultivated the arts of
peace, and by adhering strictly to the
systematic apportionment of his time, he

FREDERICK II.

was enabled to exercise a personal su-
perintendence over every department of
government, without abridging either
his pleasures or amusements, and with-
out the slightest abandonment of his lit-
erary pursuits. He carried on an exten-
sive correspondence with Voltaire, and
several of the most distinguished literati
of Europe. He wrote the History of his
own Times, and Memoirs of the House
of Brandenburg ; and he re-established
the Academy of Sciences of Berlin. It
was in the interval of peace, too, that he
invited Voltaire, and other literary char-
acters to reside at his capital. The visit
of that extraordinary man, and its result,
are well known. The quarrel between
him and Frederick, and the terms on
which they parted, were little creditable
to either ; and, besides, they very clearly
proved to the world, that in the business
of life, philosophers are not superior to
ordinary men.

The most important portion, however,
of all Frederick's labors during these ten
years of peace, was his civil administra-
tion. It comprehended various useful
reforms, and the introduction of numer-
ous improvements, for the benefit of the
people. He was zealous in the cause
of education, and in the establishment
of schools and professorships. He also
caused the laws to be revised and a new
code to be prepared, which, after much
labor, was effected, and it still goes un-
der his name. This code abolished tor-
ture, and recognized universal toleration
in religion. Perhaps the general char-
acter of the jurisprudence he established,
may be best gathered from his celebra-
ted instruction to the judges : " If a
suit arise between me and one of my

subjects, and the case is a doubtful one,
always decide against me."

In the midst of all his improvements,
Frederick was again roused to war. He
had been advised that Austria, Russia,
and Saxony had entered into a treaty
for the conquest and partition of his ter-
ritories. He demanded an explanation
from the court of Vienna, which, being
unsatisfactory, he immediately struck
the first blow by marching an army into
Saxony, and taking possession of it al-
most unopposed. Thus commenced the
celebrated " seven years' war," the re-
sult of which, after numerous battles,
and an incredible waste of human life
and treasure, was a treaty which again
confirmed Prussia in the possession of
Silesia, and established the reputation
of Frederick as the greatest military
genius of the age.

The next ten years were spent in
efforts to repair the devastation and mis-
ery which Prussia had suffered by the
war. Among other ameliorations, may
be mentioned his emancipation of the
peasantry, from hereditary servitude,
which he began by giving up his own
signorial rights over the serfs on the
crown domains. A good deal of his
time was also devoted to literary pur-
suits, as it was during this period that
he wrote his "History of the Seven
Years' War."

In 1772 he became a party to the par-
tition of Poland, and shared largely in
the spoil, as well as in the disgrace of
that infamous political robbery. In
1778, he was again in hostility with
Austria, respecting the succession to
Bavaria, which that power, at the death
of the Elector, without issue, proposed

FREDERICK II.

on some antiquated, feudal grounds, to
re-annex to her own dominions. This
war was of short duration, Frederick be-
ing successful in settling the question by
treaty. In 1785, he had another dispute
with Austria, in which he appeared as
the defender of the Germanic Confedera-
tion, and the rights of its several princes.
Here he was also successful, the empe-
ror Joseph yielding the question at is-
sue, without having recourse to arms.

Frederick was now getting old, and
his constitution had begun to decay. He
also suffered occasionally from gout, the
necessary consequence of rich diet and
high-seasoned cookery, to which he was
all his life exceedingly partial. He had,
moreover, a voracious appetite, and he
constantly indulged it to repletion. This
brought on a complication of disorders,
under which he suffered severely, though
he never once uttered a complaint, but
continued his public services with as
much zeal and anxiety, as when in per-
fect health. He continued to do so up
to August, 1786, when a confirmed drop-
sy having supervened, he fell into a
lethargy on the 16th of that month, and
expired during the night.

An impartial reviewer of the reign of
Frederick, will discard all that is attrac-
tive or dazzling in his character, either
from his talents as an accomplished war-
rior, or his wit as a man of letters. He
will consider him simply as a ruler of a
nation, and a member of the great Euro-
pean community. In that view it is im-
possible to deny that his administration
of affairs was singularly marked by
promptitude and energy. Wherever ac-
tive exertions were required, or could
ensure success, he generally prevailed ;

and to use the words of an elegant
writer, " as he was in all things a mas-
ter of those inferior abilities which are
denominated address, it is not wonderful
that he was uniformly fortunate in the
cabinets of his neighbors." His reign,
however, with all its glory, and all its
success, both in diplomacy and war, was
a memorable proof that the happiness of
the people is of little consequence, even
to an enlightened despot, when balanced
either against his cupidity or his ambi-
tion. It was these qualities alone that
embroiled Frederick with his neighbors ;
and we have only to turn to his own
works for a melancholy confession of the
disastrous consequences which were thus
entailed upon his subjects.

" The state of Prussia," says he, in
his history of his own times, " can only
be compared to that of a man riddled
with wounds, weakened by the loss of
blood, and ready to sink under the
weight of his misfortunes. The nobility
were exhausted, the commons ruined,
numerous villages were burnt, and many
towns were nearly depopulated. Civil
order was lost in a total anarchy; in
fact, the desolation was universal." In
this candid exposure of the consequences
of his own policy, Frederick has given
the true character of his reign. Such
were the results of a successful career
of conquest ; one which is often regard-
ed as the most brilliant in the annals of
mankind one which conferred the title
of " the great," on the chief actor ; and
one which has been the almost unbound-
ed theme of eulogy. He increased his
kingdom by twenty thousand square
miles ; left seventy millions of Prussian
dollars in the treasury, and an army of

FREDERICK II.

two hundred thousand men ; yet, while
the government was thus enriched and
strengthened, we see by the monarch's
own confession, how the people had suf-
fered.

There is abundant evidence that Fred-
erick was a man of art and learning;
and we know that he possessed the most
unbounded influence over his soldiery.
Before the battle of Rostorth, which led
to the most celebrated of all the king of
Prussia's victories, Frederick addressed
his little army, not amounting to more
than twenty-five thousand men, in near-
ly the following words : " My brave sol-
diers the hour is coming, in which all
that is, and all that ought to be, dear to
us, depends upon the swords that are
now drawn for the battle. Time per-
mits me to say but little, nor is there oc-
casion to say much. You know that
there is no labor, no hunger, no 'cold, no
watching, no danger, that I have not
shared with you, hitherto ; and you now
see me ready to lay down my life with
you and for you. All I ask is the same
pledge of fidelity and affection that I
give. Acquit yourselves like men, and
put your confidence in God."

The effect of this speech was inde-
scribable. The soldiers answered it by
a universal shout, and their looks and
demeanor became animated to a sort of
heroic frenzy. Frederick led on his
troops in person, exposed to the hottest
of the fire. The enemy for a few mo-
ments made a gallant resistance ; but,
overwhelmed by the headlong intrepidity
of the Prussians, they at length gave
way in every part, and fled in the ut-
most disorder. Night alone saved from
destruction the scattered remains of an

army, which, in the morning, was double
the number of its conquerors.

There are some anecdotes which ex-
hibit the conqueror in a still more pleas-
ing light. He was fond of children, and
the young princes, his nephews, had al-
ways access to him. One day, while he
was writing in his cabinet where the
eldest of them was playing with a ball,
it happened to fall on the table ; the king
threw it on the floor, and wrote on;
presently after, the ball again fell on the
table ; he threw it away once more, and
cast a serious look on the child, who
promised to be more careful, and contin-
ued his play. At last, the ball unfortu-
nately fell on the very paper on which
the king was writing, who, being a little
out of humor, put the ball in his pocket.
The little prince humbly begged pardon,
and entreated to have his ball again,
which was refused. He continued some
time praying for it in a very piteous
manner, but all in vain. At last, grown
tired of asking, he placed himself before
his majesty, put his little hand to his
side, and said, with a menacing look and
tone, " Do you choose, sire, to restore
the ball, or not?" The king smiled,
took the ball from his pocket, and gave
it to the prince, with these words : " Thou
art a brave fellow ; Silesia will never be
retaken while thou art alive."

During his last illness, he endured
many restless nights, which he endeav-
ored to soothe by conversing with the
servant who chanced to sit up with him.
On one of these occasions, he inquired
of an honest young Pomeranian from
whence he came ? " From a little vil-
lage in Pomerania." "Are your pa-
rents living?" "An aged mother."

DICK BOLDHERO.

"How does she maintain herself? " " By i
spinning." " How much does she gain
daily by it?" " Sixpence." " But she '
cannot live well on that." "In Pomera-
nia, it is cheap living." " Did you i
never send her anything ? " " O, yes ;
I have sent her at different times a few
dollars." " That was bravely done ; you i
are a good boy. You have a deal of !
trouble with me. Have patience. 1 1

shall endeavor to lay something by for
you, if you behave well." The mon-
arch kept his word; for, a few nights
after, the Pomeranian being again in at-
tendance, received several pieces of
gold, and heard, to his great joy and
surprise, that one hundred rix dollars
had been settled on his mother during
her life.

Dick Boldhero,

CHAPTER VI.

Deliverance arrival at a strange place sickness
kindness among strangers account of J\Ia-
roontown.

THE rushing sound that filled my ears,
as I fainted and fell to the earth be-
fore the terrific image of the mon-
ster that threatened me with instant
death, was occasioned by the discharge
of a musket. How often does it happen

that Providence interposes to save us,
when there appears to be no help at
hand, and hope itself has departed. A
negro hunter happened to be passing at
the precise moment that the serpent was
about to rush upon me, and crush me in
its folds. I was concealed from his view
by the bushes that intervened ; but he
saw the threatening attitude of the rep-
tile, and knew that it was about to strike

DICK BOLDHERO.

upon some object near at hand. The
huntsman was on horseback, but the ser-
pent was so intent upon its prey, that it
allowed the man to approach within a
few yards. He then levelled his gun,
and the discharge nearly severed its
head from the body. The convulsions
of the dying monster lashed the earth,
and tore the adjacent herbage, while the
space around was covered with blood.
These struggles gradually subsided; the
form was stretched out at length upon
the ground in a waving line, and, except
a tremulous motion along the back, and
a faint vibration of the tail, the creature
ceased to move.

Of this scene, I was, however, wholly
unconscious. The negro, in looking about
for the object of the serpent's meditated
blow, soon discovered me. He raised
my head from the earth, and, after a few
moments, I slowly recovered my senses.
When my eyes first fell upon the face
of the negro, his head covered with an
immense palm-leaf hat, a strange fancy
crossed my mind. I conceived myself
to be in the coils of the serpent, and the
countenance of the negro seemed to be
the image of my destroyer. But this illu-
sion quickly passed away, and I speedi-
ly realized my deliverance. A sense of
unspeakable joy thrilled through my
heart, and I burst into a flood of tears.
I was utterly unable to speak, but I
clasped the hands of the negro, who
was kneeling by me, and showed in his
countenance the utmost sympathy and
kindness. Never have I felt toward
any human being a more grateful emo-
tion, than toward my kind-hearted pre-
server at that moment.

I was soon able to get upon my feet,

but when I saw the outstretched form
of the serpent, and beheld the traces of
blood, and the earth torn by its dying
agony, a faintness again came over me,
and I should have fallen to the ground,
but for the support afforded by my pro-
tector. He now spoke to me, but in a
language which I did not understand.
He seemed to comprehend my situation,
however, and, placing me upon the sad-
dle of his horse, he mounted behind me.
After winding through the shrubbery for
a short distance, we came to a pathway
along which we proceeded for the space of
an hour, during which the negro paid the
utmost attention to my weakness. He held
me upon the saddle, kept the somewhat
impatient steed in a walk, and did all in his
power to render my situation comfortable.
I now observed that we were emerging
from the forest, and that cultivated fields
were opening before us. I noticed plan-
tations upon the hill sides, and, at a little
distance, I perceived scattered dwellings.
These, however, were of a very humble
cast, the sides seeming to consist of stakes
woven together with palm leaves, and the
roofs to be made either of palm leaves
or straw. As we passed along, I noticed
a number of negroes engaged in various
occupations ; but I discovered no white
people. The population increased as we
proceeded, and when at last we entered
a long, irregular street, the inhabitants
seemed to swarm like a bee-hive. Never
have I seen such a strange spectacle.
The town consisted of huts, such as I
have described, and the people were all
black. I had no difficulty in coming to
the conclusion that this was Maroontown
the negro settlement, through which I
had expected to pass on my journey.

DICK BOLDHERO.

As we proceeded through the street
of the town, we soon attracted attention,
and I became the special object of curi-
osity. There were great numbers of
children, and being entirely naked, they
looked like so many little monkeys.
Many of them were lying down at their
ease ; others were skipping and frisking
about like squirrels. Many of these be-
gan to follow us, and when once a train
had formed behind us, the plot seemed
to thicken, and we were soon surrounded
by a throng of all sizes and sexes.
These flowed onward, leaping, shouting,
babbling, laughing and dancing, and per-
forming all sorts of antics.

At length we reached a hovel of some-
what better appearance than the rest.
Here my guide dismounted, and, clear-
ing a space among the babbling crowd,
partly by threats, and partly by blows,
he took me from the horse, and carried
me into the dwelling. Placing me upon
a bed of straw, he drove out the children
that had rushed into the room, and fast-
ened the entrance. He then spoke to
his wife and daughter, no doubt giving
an account of the manner in which he
had discovered me. I became the im-
mediate object of the care and kindness
of the two women. They provided for
me some rice broth, of which I ate a lit-
tle, and, overpowered with fatigue, I fell
asleep. My slumbers, however, were
disturbed, and my mind was agitated
with terrific dreams. Worn out with
suffering of mind and body, my consti-
tution gave way, and I fell into a raging
fever.

During the period of my disease, I
had little consciousness, and I have but
faint remembrances of what passed. In

the lucid intervals which visited me, I
could always perceive some one of the
kind family watching at my bedside,
ready and prompt to attend to all my
wants and wishes. For the space of
three weeks, I remained in a critical
condition, apparently hovering upon the
narrow line between life and death.
Owing, however, to the prescriptions of
a black physician, who attended upon
me with great care, and the affectionate
nursing of my friends, aided by my elas-
tic constitution, the disease was at last
conquered, and I began to revive from
my prostrate condition. I was, indeed,
wasted to a shadow, and when the fever
left me, I could not lift my arm from the
bed, nor turn my head upon the pillow.
During this period of excessive weak-
ness, I was as tenderly treated, as if I
had been an infant, and the heir of the
house. Somebody was always at my
bedside to wet my parched lips with
lemonade, to bathe my forehead, or aid
me to change my position. The rough,
burly master of the hovel, when called
upon to lift me from my bed, seemed to
have a new sense of gentleness infused
into his clumsy hands and arms.

Under these kindly auspices, when
once my disease had left me, I gradually
acquired strength, and, in the space of a
fortnight was able to totter to the door.
I was led out by the two women, and, as
I gazed around upon the uncouth scene,
the ragged, irregular tenements, and the
half-naked inhabitants, it still seemed as
though I was breathing the air, and
gazing on the landscapes of a sort of
paradise. Such was the cheering influ-
ence of that sense of returning health,
which flowed through my youthful veins.

DICK BOLDHERO THE LAW OF HONOR.

I now began to make some acquaint-
ances among the people ; their language
was Dutch, with a mixture of negro
and Indian gibberish. Of this, I under-
stood nothing, except the names of a few
familiar objects, which I gradually learn-
ed. At length, however, I met with a
woman, who had been a servant in an
English family, and could converse in
the English tongue. From her I learned
the history of this curious settlement. It
seems to have sprung up from the slaves
that escaped from their masters at Para-
maribo, and the plantations along the
Surinam. These were hunted by the
white people, and shot down like wild
animals, or, if captured, were subjected
to the most cruel punishments, and the
rigors of slavery were rendered still
more severe. The number of these fu-
gitives constantly increased. For a
time, indeed, they wandered in -the for-
ests, often alone, and reduced to a state
of wildness, like the native animals of
the woods.

But they soon associated together,
and, by their union and numbers, be-
came formidable to their oppressors.
They retired to a considerable distance
from the Dutch settlements, and, occu-
pying a fertile tract of country, erected
such slight habitations as their means
afforded, and the climate required.
They began to till the soil, and bountiful
nature returned an abundant harvest for
their efforts. They increased rapidly,
and in process of years they established
a government suited to their condition.
By degrees the hostility between them
and the Dutch settlement subsided, and
amicable intercourse commenced, and at
the time I was there, a considerable traf-

fic was carried on between the inhabit-
ants of Maroontown and those of Para-
maribo. The settlement continues to
the present time to consist entirely of a
negro population, living in the heart of
Guiana, almost without the mixture of
foreign blood. Their manners are rather
those of Africa than America. We shall
have something more to say of this
strange place in another chapter.

(To be continued.)

The Law of Honor,

A FABLE.

Two musquitoes met upon a cabbage -
leaf one fine summer's morning,
glutted with the spoils of the pre-
ceding evening. Flushed with suc-
cess, and anxious for battle, they began
to eye each other with no very gentle
looks. Still they had no pretence upon
which to begin shedding each other's
blood, till one of them ran out his sting,
and began to whet it and put it in order
for the first emergency. " Do you run
your sting out at me ? " said the other.
"That's just as you please to take it."
" Sir, that's a downright insult." " Very
well, sir, I can't help that." "Draw,
then, and defend yourself!" Upon this
challenge, like other duellists, they made
a great bluster, and while they prepared
for battle with an air of great courage,
meanly took great pains to get the ad-
vantage of ground and position. After
several passes, one was mortally wound-
ed : they then made up, and while one
expired, the other, in the most chivalrous
manner, said he was a gentleman. So
the musquito died with satisfaction.

KAHIRA, OR CAIRO.

House in Cairo.

Kahira, or Cairo,

THIS city, which is the capital of Mod-
ern Egypt, is situated in a plain be-
tween the eastern bank of the river
Nile and the ridge of Mokattam. It
occupies about three square miles, and is
surrounded by a wall, and commanded
by a large citadel, where the pacha re-
sides. The streets are unpaved and
narrow, some of them having rows of
shops on each side.

The roofs of the houses are flat, and
covered with plaster. The ground floor
apartments next the street have small
wooden grated windows ; but those of
the upper stories are formed of wood-
en lattice-work, which is so close that it
shuts out much of the light of the sun,
but admits the air. In the better houses,
the windows are furnished with frames
of glass in the inside ; these are closed
in the winter.

There are many public buildings in
Kahira. The mosques are numerous,

and some of them distinguished for their
size, architecture, and great age. There
are also many public baths, which are
handsomely ornamented and painted,
and in some parts paved with marble.
The public gardens are filled with groves
of orange and lemon trees, and the cem-
eteries are also much used as prome-
nades.

The population is. estimated at twen-
ty-four thousand, consisting of natives,
Jews and strangers. Ae police main-
tained in the metropolis is tolerably
strict. Malefactors are mostly employed
in the public works.

Kahira still maintains the reputation
of being the best school of Arabic lit-
erature, theology and jurisprudence.
Schools for children are very numerous ;
almost every mosque has a koottab, or
day school attached to it, in which chil-
dren are instructed in reading the Ko-
ran, and in writing and arithmetic.

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

A Patagonian.

Pictures of Various Nations,

CHAPTER VII.

CHILI.

HILI lies south of Peru, and is a nar-
row tract about twelve hundred
miles in length, between the Pa-
cific ocean and the Andes. It has
a climate remarkably fine and salu-
brious, and a soil which is very fertile.
It seldom rains there, but the dews are
abundant. In several parts of the An-
des, volcanoes yearly spout forth their
fires, and earthquakes are frequent and
severe.

Chili was conquered by the Spaniards
many years since ; but the conquest was
achieved with much difficulty. In the
native Chilese they found a bold and in-
trepid people, who fought with desperate

courage, and continued the war for fifty
years.

The Spaniards who have settled Chili,
live principally in the northern part.
With these have mingled a few Eng-
lish, French and Italians.

The Creoles, or the descendants of
the Spaniards, are generally well made,
honorable, intrepid and liberal ; yet vain
and fond of pleasure. The men gen-
erally dress in the French fashion ; the
women in that of Peru. But the Chi-
lese ladies wear long gowns, and have a
more modest air. The Creole popula-
tion are very extravagant in dress and
in their manner of living. The com-
mon people of the country lead a happy

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

and tranquil life. They are somewhat
gay, and fond of music and poetry.

About one half of Chili is still pos-
sessed by tribes of the Aborigines, who
are called Araucanians. In many re-
spects they are an interesting people.
They are not tall, but strong and robust,
and intrepid warriors, devoted to their
country, and prodigal of their lives.
They are courteous, hospitable, faithful
to their engagements, grateful for bene-
fits, and generous and humane towards
the vanquished. Many of them, how-
ever, are addicted to gaming and drunk-
enness. Great feasts are sometimes
made by them, on which occasions they
are guilty of a most wasteful prodi-
gality.

They are copper-colored, but some-
what lighter than most of the northern
and central tribes. Their face is nearly
round, eyes small, noses flattened, but
the mouth well made, and the teeth
white and uniform. They have long,
black hair. They pluck out their beards
by the roots. Many of the women are
handsome ; are seldom gray before sixty
or seventy, nor bald before eighty. It
is not uncommon to find among them
persons of more than a hundred years,
retaining their teeth, and sight, and
memory unimpaired.

Of their dress, we shall only say, that
it is generally tight or compact, consist-
ing of a shirt, with breeches, and a man-
tle reaching to the knee. These are
generally of wool, and of a blue color ;
though the mantle is sometimes red or
white. They ornament their heads with
plumes of feathers. The women wear
a gown reaching to the feet, but without
sleeves. It is bound round the waist

with a girdle, confined by a silver clasp
in front. Their hair is left to fall on
their shoulders, and is decorated with
brilliant stones. Bracelets, necklaces,
and rings are also worn, and most of the
lower classes have ornaments of silver.

These people do not live in villages,
but their habitations are generally at a
distance from each other, on the banks of
rivers. These are commonly surrounded
with trees, under the shade of which the
family take their meals. Many of the
men have several wives, each of whom
daily presents her husband with a dish
of food, cooked at her own fire. The
Araucanians are distinguished for their
horsemanship and for their eloquence.
For this last, their language is well
adapted.

PATAGONIA.

Patagonia is the most southern country
in South America. It has never been
much explored ; so that we can say but
little more about it, than that the northern
parts have a milder climate and a more
productive soil than the southern parts,
which are intensely cold. It is as cold
there as Cape Horn, or as it is in the
northern part of Canada. Of the inhab-
itants, also, we can give no very particu-
lar account. Some Europeans, however,
have visited them, during their voyages
of trade or discovery.

In 1764, Commodore Byron landed in
Patagonia, and had an interview 'with
the natives. They have always been
said to be giants, and' he found them to
be so. They seemed to him to be gen-
erally six feet and a half high, and some
of them quite seven feet. The tallest
Americans are seldom over six feet;

PICTURES OF VARIOUS NATIONS.

generally not more than five feet, and
seven and ten inches.

He found them not only thus tall, but
very robust. Only their hands and feet
are small. They are a warlike tribe,
yet courteous and humane. In their
complexion, they are copper-colored.
They have straight, black, and coarse
hair, usually tied behind with a string.
They paint themselves with circles round
the eyes, and with various colors. Their
teeth are exceedingly white, and remark-
ably even and well set.

Their dress is made of the skin of the
guanaco, sewed together into pieces
about six feet long and five broad, which
are wrapped as a cloak round their body.
The upper part, however, falls back, and
thus exposes the neck and shoulders to
the weather, and makes them look al-
most naked. They appear to eat raw
flesh of animals. They are excellent
horsemen, and will pursue their game
on horseback, in places of danger, where
an American would be afraid to go.

In 1766, Captain Welles visited Pata-
gonia, and while there, he took several
of the people on board his ship ; but he
was surprised to find that they had no
curiosity about anything, excepting a
looking-glass, before which they danced
and played a thousand tricks.

TERRA DEL FUEGO.

Of Terra del Fuego and its inhabit-
ants, we know still less than of Patago-
nia, and the people of that country. It is
an island, separated from Cape Horn by
a strait, called the straits of Magellan,
after the navigator who first discovered
it. The same navigator gave the name
of Terra del Fuego to the island. It

signifies " the land of jfire" and was
given to the island because he and his
men discovered on it numerous fires,
which proceeded from volcanoes.

The island is a dreary region ; bleak,
barren, and mountainous. Winter reigns
here nearly the whole year round. The
inhabitants are of a middle stature, with
broad faces, fiat noses, and high cheek-
bones. They paint their bodies, which
are naturally fair, and what clothes they
wear are made of seals' skins. Shell
fish is their principal food. Their huts
are miserable shelters, built in a conical
form, or much like a tunnel.

The inhabitants of the north seem to
be quite different from those of the
south. The former are said to be cruel
and treacherous ; the latter harmless and
simple. They are alike destitute of cu-
riosity, however, and although the cli-
mate is extremely cold, they go almost
naked.

SMALL MATTERS. The nerve of a
tooth, not as large as the finest cambric
needle, will sometimes drive a strong
man to distraction. A musqueto can
make an elephant absolutely mad. The
coral rock, causing a navy to founder, is
the work of worms. The warrior that
withstood death in a thousand forms
may be killed by an insect. The deep-
est wretchedness results from a perpet-
ual continuance of petty trials. A
chance look from those we love, often
produces exquisite pain or unalloyed
pleasure.

" Take your time" as the man said,
when he returned a borrowed watch.

THE BAT FAMILY.

The Bat Family,

THE family of bats is very numerous,
and some of its members are queer
characters, as we shall presently
show. They have puzzled the nat-
uralists not a little ; for while they have
the structure of quadrupeds, they have
the motion of birds. They are the only
creatures that unite these two qualities.
There are such things, indeed, as flying
squirrels, and flying opossums, but these
do not raise themselves by wings ; they
only support their bodies by spreading
out skinny membranes on either side, in
descending from an elevation, and are
thus able to make a long, sloping leap.

The bat, on the contrary, raises him-
self into the air by his wings, and glan-
ces about hither and thither, with all the
ease and vivacity of a bird. Yet this
creature has no feathers. He is cov-
ered with hair, and when his skinny
wings are folded up, he looks very much
like a mouse or a mole. He even squeaks
like a mouse, and thus an appearance

of veracity is given to the fable of La
Fontaine. In this, the bat is represent-
ed as having, on a certain occasion, got
into the nest of a weasel, the sworn ene-
my of birds. When the weasel was about
to destroy him as one of the feathered
tribe, the little fellow escaped by repre-
senting himself to be a mouse. After-
wards, coming in the way of the cat, he
was upon the point of being devoured as
a mouse ; but he now showed his wings,
and was let off, on the plea of being a bird.

In a former number, we have spoken
of the vampire, which is found in Guia-
na, and have made mention, also, of cer-
tain other species of this curious tribe.

We now proceed to speak of the gen-
eral habits of the whole race. They
frequent caverns, dark ravines, and crev-
ices of rocks. Here they sleep by day,
but, as evening approaches, they sally
forth, pursuing such insects as have not
gone to their repose. They are active
and busy during the warm season, but

JOSHUA.

when the cold evenings of autumn set
in, they retire to their dim retreats, where
they often cluster together by hundreds.
Here they remain in a dormant state
during the winter. In this condition
they show the greatest sensibility to the
touch, and their bodies even shrink from
the approach of the hand, before it comes
in contact with the body. Yet nothing
can rouse them from their profound sleep.

There are nearly one hundred and
fifty different kinds of bats. In this
country they are small in size, and com-
paratively few in number. In tropical
regions they are more numerous, and in
some places, they fill the air so thickly,
as to increase the gloom of twilight. In
India there is a species, called flying
foxes, whose outstretched wings measure
six feet from tip to tip.

Joshua commanding the Sun and Moon to stand still,

ONE of the most remarkable events
mentioned in Scripture, is that to
which the preceding picture relates.
It has often been the subject of the
painter's pencil, and gives ample scope

for the exercise of his highest talent.
The story, as related in the tenth chap-
ter of Joshua, presents a scene of the
utmost sublimity. The Israelites hav-
ing fled out of Egypt, aft^r forty years'

OUR CORRESPONDENCE.

wandering, had been conducted by Mo-
ses to the borders of Canaan. This
great leader having died in the land of
Moab, Joshua became the chief of the
nation. Under his guidance they en-
tered the promised land. In the course
of their march they were met by the
kings of the Amorites, who attacked
them in the mountains. Encouraged
by divine assurance of success, Joshua
withstood the host, and a terrible con-
flict ensued. The Israelites prevailed,
and a miracle, or what seemed a mira-
cle, was wrought in behalf of Joshua
and his army. The Amorites were de-
feated, and Joshua, obeying the divine
command, stretched forth his hand, and
said, " Sun, stand thou still upon Gib-
eon, and thou moon in the valley of
Ajalon ! " Obedient to this injunction,
the sun and the moon paused in their
course ; the day was prolonged, and the
Israelites continued to pursue and cut
down their enemies.

There is something in the idea of a
great battle, where thousands of men
are engaged in the deadly conflict, and
of which the Creator is a spectator, and
at whose command even the mighty
orbs which give light and heat to the
universe are stayed in their path, which
excites the imagination, and lifts the
mind to the loftiest pitch of excitement.
The subject is, indeed, almost too grand
for human conception, and not even the
creative pencil of the painter can fully
master it.

Oar Correspondence,

THE following letter is a sweet one, as our
readers will see, before they get through. The
writers may rest assured that they will be for-

given, if they put their threat in execution re-
specting the barrel of sugar. We should like
the description of the process of making the
article, very much ; and it is very likely, when
we get it, that we shall hitch a first-rate story
upon it.

Baton Rouge, La., April, 1844.

MR. ROBERT MERRY : SIR, "We take pleasure
in declaring to you that your name and the fame
of your periodical have at length reached us
here in the far south-west. And from the spirit
of kind good-nature which seems to mark all
your communications with your young friends,
we are ready to think that you will not spurn
the salutations of your new acquaintances in
Louisiana. Though this may be the first voice
from the " Creole State," we hope it will not be
the last. We would have you and all your read-
ers down east, and north, and all other parts
of our great country, understand that we are
not exactly in a barbarous state nor approach-
ing it as we mean to show by patronizing the
Museum.

That good old gentleman, Peter Parley, has
long since become a favorite among us ; and it
was only necessary to be informed that you were
his near kinsman or intimate friend, that you
enjoyed his confidence, and are even intrusted
with all the precious relics left by him, to
secure you the most ready reception and all that
generous hospitality in which the people of our
state abound. We have often heard of that
place "away down east,'' called Boston; and
especially how many fine schools, and books,
and all such useful things, our young friends
there enjoy ; and since we found out the char-
acters of Peter Parley and Robert Merry among
others of your distinguished citizens, our curi-
osity is more excited, and, no doubt, many of us
will be led to come and see that part of the land
if we live to grow up. But if we do, we wish
very much not to appear behind others of your
black-eyed and blue-eyed friends in intelligence.
Therefore we mean to have your interesting
and instructive publication, which, with other
improvements that are being made in our means
of instruction, we think, will help us to keep up
with the age, and prepare to act our part as well
as the Yankee boys and girls.

Now we don't like to make promises, any
more than yourself; but just to encourage you
we will give you a hint at least. You know we
raise sugar cane in this state ; and we are told
that you and your northern readers know no-
thing about making sugar, but only eating it.
Now, if you have a sweet tooth, (for we hope
you hav n't become toothless yet,) you would n't
despise a barrel of the finest sugar or the best

OUR CORRESPONDENCE "HAPPINESS.'

sirop from some plantation in this vicinity if
you should happen to find one on some of your
Boston ships, especially, should it be accompa-
nied by a description of the process of making
it, for the benefit of all your little sweet-loving
readers. Hoping, then, that you will punctually
furnish us, as well as your older and nearer
admirers, with all the good things you are wont
to distribute, we make our bow as

YOUR NEW READERS OF BATON ROUGE.

We thank Pierce L. H. of Brooklyn, N. York,
and our friend P., for their communications.

Sarah C. F. is satisfied with our reasons why
the eastern coast of America has a colder cli-
mate than the western coast of Europe, but
wonders that Kamskatka is so much colder than
Alaska both being in the same latitude. She
will find an explanation in the fact that the lat-

ter is a mere island, and the surrounding ocean
moderates and equalizes the temperature.
Kamskatka, it is true, is near the sea, but it
is contiguous to Siberia, which is an extensive
mass of unbroken land, which is always colder
than the sea.

We thank H. L. P-
K., and John P-

for

-, Jane S r, M. A.

their several commu-

nications. We hope S will comply with

his promise, and tell us about the salt works of
Syracuse.

We are obliged to omit, this month, a wild
story of Bill Keeler's, called Dirk Heldriver ; a
tale by the Old Man in the Corner, and some-
thing about Inquisitive Jack. They shall come
next time.

Happiness,

MUSIC COMPOSED FOR MERRY'S MUSEUM, BY GEO. J. WEBB.

* +- -^

1. There is a spell in every flow'r, A sweetness in each spray, And eve-ry

si _L_j_J_~_5_| L^__|z^3Zi | !:q_iz ~ _ I

sim-ple bird has pow'r To please me with his lay.

And there is music on each breeze
That sports along the glade ;

The crystal dew-drops on the trees
Are gems, by Fancy made.

There 's gladness too in everything,
And beauty over all

For everywhere comes on with spring
A charm which cannot pall !

And I ! my heart is full of joy,

And gratitude is there,
That He, who might my life destroy,

Has yet vouchsafed to spare.

MERKY'S MUSEUM,

Vol. VIII.

AUGUST, 1844.

No. 2.

THIS is the eighth month of the year,
and derived its name from Augustus,
emperor of Rome. In England it is
the month of harvest, and the old
Saxons used to call it arm-month, arm
being the word for harvest. It is every-
where a busy season, and is thus noticed
by an old poet :

The ears are filled, the fields are white,
The constant harvest-moon is bright ;
To grasp the bounty of the year,
The reapers to the scene repair,
With hook in hand and bottles slung,
And dowlas scups beside them hung,
The sickles stubble all the ground,
And filful hasty laps go round ;
VOL. VIII. 3

The meals are done, as soon as tasted,
And neither time nor viands wasted.

The fifth day of August is noticed in
England for two reasons : it is the birth-
day of Saint James, and oysters on this
day come into use. They are not al-
lowed to be eaten, by order of parlia-
ment, till this time, as they are deemed
unwholesome during the summer. The
event is thus celebrated by the rhyme-
ster:

Green groves rise at dawn of sun,
August fifth ! come, haste away !

To Billingsgate the thousands run ;
'T is oyster day ! 't is oyster day !

BILL AND THE BOYS.

Now, at the comer of the street,
"With oysters fine the tent. is filled;

The cockney stops to have a treat,
Prepared by one in opening skilled.

Shake off" the beard as quick as thought
The pointed knife divides the flesh ;

What plates are laden, loads are brought,
And eaten raw, and cold, and fresh !

The tenth of August is the festival of
St. Lawrence. He suffered martyrdom
at Rome, being roasted to death on a red-
hot grate of iron. The church of St.
Lawrence in London is dedicated to him,
rand has a gridiron on the steeple for a
vane.

The fifteenth of this month is what is
called Assumpsion day by the Catholics.
It is a great festival with them, and is
designed to commemorate the assump-
tion, or taking up of the Virgin Mary
into heaven. It is one of the most fa-
mous of the Romish festivals, and is cel-
ebrated in France, Italy, and other Cath-
olic countries, with processions, songs,
ceremonies, and every variety of reli-
gious pageantry.

If we may be permitted to say a word
to the farmers, we would advise them to
declare a war of extermination on the
thistles in and about their premises. It
is said by some correct cultivators, that
if the Canada thistle is cut in August,
before its seed is ripe, it will die in an
accommodating manner ; because the
stalk, which is hollow, will fill with
water and destroy the root.

It is also said, if you cut bushes in the
old of the moon in August, you will de-
stroy them root and branch. We doubt
if the moon will interfere in the matter;
but August is the best time for cutting
bushes, because vegetation having come

to a close for the season, the bushes will
not so readily sprout again from the
roots.

Bill and the Boys,

DIRK HELDRIVER.

(RECOLLECT, one winter evening, when
Bill and myself, with three or four
young companions, were assembled
around the fire of the " Cock and
Bull," it chanced to be Bill's turn to tell
a story. It was a wild night, for the
wind blew, and the sleet rattled against
the windows, as the heavy gusts swept
round the corner of the old tavern.
When Bill was about to begin his story,
I could see that his cheek was a little
pale, and his eye glistened as if there
were something extraordinary in his
mind. At length, he began, and related
the following story, as nearly as I can
recollect it.

About sixty miles north of the city
of New York, a range of lofty highlands
crosses the Hudson, nearly from west to
east, which passes under the name of
the Fishkill mountains. The river has
cut away this mighty barrier for the
space of two or three miles, but it rises
on either side and lifts its blue summits
almost to the clouds. At the foot of the
eastern portion of this range is now the
pretty village of Fishkill, and scattered
along the banks of the river are the lux-
urious country-seats of the De Wints,
Verplancks, and other old Dutch fami-
lies.

But our story goes back for nearly a
century, to a period when there were
only a few scattered settlements along

BILL AND THE BOYS.

the banks of this noble river, and while
yet the savage, the bear, and the panther
were found in the forest. At this time, a
man, who bore the semblance of a gen-
tleman, purchased a large tract of land
along the bank of the river, and at the
distance of two or three miles from the
eastern branch of the mountains we have
described. Here he caused a large man-
sion to be constructed in the Dutch fash-
ion, and having laid out his grounds
with considerable care, he removed
hither with his wife, and a large retinue
of servants. He bore the name of Hiel-
der, and supported the style and figure
of a man of fortune.

After a few years he had a child, a
daughter, which became the special ob-
ject of the care and attention of both
parents. Heilder himself was a some-
what stern and gloomy man, and he
seemed to impress his character upon
everything around him. The mansion
was deeply imbedded in the tall trees,
and the apartments, wainscotted with oak
and feebly lighted, had a peculiarly som-
bre aspect. The servants gradually as-
sumed a dark and mysterious look, and
the lady herself, though very beautiful,
was always dressed in black, and was
distinguished by a complexion of almost
deathlike paleness.

Several years passed, and the little
girl, who w r as named Katrina, might
now be seen walking with her mother
amid the long, straight, shady avenues
that were cut in the forest. Excepting
the persons connected with the estab-
lishment, few persons visited the spot ;
it was therefore marked with peculiar
loneliness, which seemed to increase
the gloomy and mysterious aspect of the

place. The proprietor of the mansion
had no intercourse whatever with the
people of the vicinity, and never, except
once a year, when he made a short visit
to the city of New York, did he leave
his residence. He spent much of his
time in reading, and devoted several
hours each day to the instruction of his
child, who now seemed to be the only
object of his affections. It appeared
indeed that there was some deep-rooted
bitterness at his heart, which he attempt-
ed to alleviate by the education of his
daughter.

The child was indeed worthy of all
his care, yet she seemed the very oppo-
site of everything around her. She had
light, flaxen hair, blue eyes, snowy com-
plexion, and- an ever-laughing expression
of countenance. Seated in the gloomy
library with her father, she seemed like
a spot of playful sunshine, lighting the
recesses of a cavern.

It was remarkable, that although she
was the favorite of all around, and evi-
dently the object of the deepest interest
to her parents, the father still seemed
not to reflect from his own heart any
portion of the child's cheerfulness and
vivacity. Though she romped, frolicked,
laughed and toyed, a ray of pleasure, or
I even a passing smile never lighted his
, countenance. Her spirit shone upon
I him, but it was like light falling upon a
I black surface, which absorbed, but did
I not throw back, its rays. A keen observer,
indeed, would have said that the moody
father felt even a rebuke in the joyous
gaiety of his child.

With the mother there was this differ-
ence, that though she was generally sor-
rowful, the springs of happiness seemed

BILL AND THE BOYS.

not wholly dried up. She felt a mother's
pride in the surpassing beauty of the
child, and was often cheered by the little
creature's hoyden mirth. In the pres-
ence of the master, the servants were
habitually silent and gloomy. But if at
any time they found the little girl apart,
they not unfrequently indulged in a
game of romps.

Such was little Katrina, a playful,
happy creature, in the midst of shadows
and gloom the idol of all, and appar-
ently the object in which the affections
of the parents, as well as the rest of the
household were centred. It was when
she had reached the age of about six
years, that an incident occurred of the
deepest interest. At the close of a sum-
mer evening, a small sloop anchored in
the river, near the house we have de-
scribed. A boat was let down, and a
man, wrapped in a cloak, was landed
upon the beach. He proceeded to the
mansion, and, inquiring for the master,
was conducted to the library. The
room was vacant, but the stranger sat
down, and occupied himself in gazing
around the apartment. At length, the
proprietor came, his countenance being
marked with something of anxiety. The
stranger arose, laid aside his cloak, and
stood before his host. For a moment he
did not speak ; but, at last, he said,
" You pass, I understand, by the name
of Hielder. I know your real name,
and I presume you know mine."

" I know you not," said Hielder,
sternly.

" Then you shall know me," said the
stranger. " My name is Hieldover, the
victim of your perfidy, and I am here to
avenge my wrongs."

" This is a pretty tale," said Hielder ;
" and you bear yourself bravely. Per-
haps you are one of Robert Kidd's men,
and have come here in search of gold ;
but you have mistaken your errand. I
have but to ring the bell, and my ser-
vants will execute my will upon you."

" This bullying will not answer your
purpose," said Hieldover ; " nothing
shall turn me from my purpose, which is
to extort from you the fortune that you
have obtained by the basest perfidy and
fraud. You pretend not to know me ; I
will refresh your memory. Fifteen
years since you were made my guardian
at Amsterdam, by my father's will.
You possessed yourself, by forgery,
of my ample fortune. You departed
from the country in secrecy, and I was
left a beggar. I have since been a wan-
derer over the earth, and have known
toil, and suffering, and sorrow, while
you have been revelling in the wealth
which was mine. I have traced you
through the four quarters of the globe,
and had sworn in my heart to follow
upon your track like the bloodhound, till
I could find you and bring you to jus-
tice."

. During this speech, the pale counte-
nance of Hielder was frequently flushed
with anger. At last, he said, sneeringly,
" You have spoken freely have you
done ? If so, I will show you the door."
Hieldover seemed to be on the point
of giving vent to his rage ; but he
checked himself, and said, " You deny
my claim, then ? You refuse to do me
justice?"

" I have no answer to make," said
Hielder, " to an idle braggart."

" Beware, then, of my vengeance,"

BILL AND THE BOYS.

said the other, clenching his fist, and
looking defiance in the eye of Hielder.
He then took his leave.

This scene passed without the knowl-
edge of any individual, except the parties
concerned. Yet for several days the
master of the house seemed even more
gloomy than usual. He spoke little to
any one, and remained almost wholly in
the seclusion of his library. After a
month, however, had passed away, he
seemed to be restored to his former condi-
tion, and resumed his wonted occupations.
He seemed more than ever devoted to
his child, although he maintained his
accustomed sternness. For a time he
would hardly allow the child to be out
of his presence, but at length the mother
was permitted to resume her walks, at-
tended by her daughter.

One day, she went out in the morn-
ing, but did not return at the usual hour.
Some anxiety was excited, and the ser-
vants were sent forth in search of their
mistress and the child. They returned
without being able to find her. All was
now alarm. Hielder himself went forth,
and the people were directed to scour
the woods in every direction. They
soon brought tidings to their master that
the lady was found, but the child was
missing. When discovered, she was in-
sensible ; but when she came to herself,
she stated that while she was walking
in the woods, a stranger suddenly sprung
upon the child, and bore it away. He
fled toward the mountains, and she pur-
sued till she swooned and fell to the
ground. Here she remained, in a state
of insensibility, till she was taken up by
the people who were in search of her.

(To be continued.)

CURRAN AND THE MlLLER*S DoG.

" Curran," says Harrington, in his me-
moirs, "once related, with infinite humor,
an adventure between him and a mas-
tiff, when he was a boy. He had heard
somebody say, that any person, throwing
the skirts of his coat over his head,
stooping low, holding out his arms, and
creeping along backwards, might fright-
en the fiercest dog, and put him to flight.
He accordingly made the attempt on a
miller's animal in the neighborhood, who
would never let the boys rob the orchard ;
but he found to his sorrow, that he had
a dog to deal with, who did not care
which end of a boy went first, so that he
could get a good bite of it.

" ' I pursued the instructions,' said Cur-
ran; 'and as I had no eyes save those
in front, I fancied the mastiff was in full
retreat, but I was painfully mistaken ;
for, at the very moment I fancied myself
victorious, the enemy attacked my rear,
and, having got a reasonably good
mouthful of it, was fully prepared to
take another, before I was rescued.' "

NATURAL CURIOSITY. In Scotland, at
the entrance of the river Leven, is a
lofty rock, occupied as a castle. On the
surface of this, there is a huge figure,
formed by nature, which makes an ex-
cellent profile of the celebrated Duke of
Wellington. It is an object that always
attracts the attention of the passengers
of the steamboats, as they are passing
the castle.

" Be content with what you have." as
the rat said to the trap, when he left his
tail in it.

THE RIVER NILE.

Inundation of the Nile.

The River Nile.

I HE whole northeastern part 'of Africa I
consists of a mighty expanse of des-
ert sand, extending for upwards of a
thousand miles in each direction.
The chains of wild and rocky mountains
by which it is traversed, give only a more
rugged and dreary character to this im-
mense waste. One vast feature alone
breaks this terrible monotony. From
the high chains of Abyssinia, and from
the still loftier mountains of the moon,
that traverse Central Africa, descend nu-
merous and ample streams, which, long
before entering Egypt, unite in forming
the Nile, a river of the first magnitude.
Although the Nile in its whole pro-
gress through this desert does not receive
the acession of a single rivulet, it brings
so vast an original store as enables it to
reach and pour a mighty stream into the
Mediterranean. For many hundred

miles in the upper part of its course,
confined between high and rocky banks,
it is merely bordered by a brilliant belt of
fertility, the sandy waste stretching in-
definitely on both sides ; this is Nubia.

After traversing the barrier of the cat-
aracts, it passes through a broader valley
between mountains of some height, and
on its banks are many shaded or inun-
dated tracts, which yield products of con-
siderable value ; this is Upper Egypt.
Emerging from these mountains, the
Nile enters a flat and extensive plain,
where it separates, and by two great and
divided streams, with various intersect-
ing branches, enters the Mediterranean ;
this 'is Lower Egypt.

In the last part of its course, the Nile
is nearly on a level with the district
which it intersects, and when swelled by
the autumnal rains of Central Africa.

THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER.

overflows it entirely. The waters begin
to rise about the 18th or 19th of June,
attain their greatest height in September,
and subside as gradually as they rise,
and within about an equal space of time.
The land thus covered with the fertilizing
alluvial deposit, collected during so long
a course, becomes the most productive,
perhaps, on the face of the globe ; and
notwithstanding its limited extent, and the
mighty wastes on which it borders, has al-
ways maintained a numerous population.
Thus it appears that the fertility of
Egypt is solely dependent on the Nile,
and that, but for this, it would be, like
the rest of Africa in this quarter, a sandy
and desolate waste.

The Old Man in the Corner,

THE PHILOSOPHER REBUKED.

THERE. was once a learned man, or
philosopher, who was fond of prying
into the works of nature, and every
other source of knowledge. At last
he became vain of his great stores of
information, and was somewhat rash in
forming his opinions.

One evening, as this philosopher was
conversing with a friend, the discourse
turned upon the Bible, and the former
declared that he did not believe in it. A
somewhat warm dispute ensued, in the
course of which the philosopher said that
he rejected the Bible, because it contained
many doctrines which he could not com-
prehend ; " and 7 make it a rule" said
he emphatically, " never to believe any-
thing which I cannot understand"

It happened that there was a little girl
in the room, the daughter of the philoso-

pher. She was about eight years old,
and though of a lively and playful turn,
she was remarkably intelligent and ob-
serving. While the father and his friend
were engaged in conversation, she was
occupied with her toys upon the floor,
and seemed absorbed in her sports.
Yet she listened to the discourse, and
though she did not understand it all,
yet she caught the remark of her father
which we have noticed above, and treas-
ured it up in her heart. She also noticed
the inferences which her father drew
from the proposition to which we have
alluded.

Without paying the least attention to
the little girl, the gentlemen pursued
their conversation, and the philosopher
declared, that, as he could not understand
how the death of Christ could contribute
to the salvation of the sinner, he rejected
the doctrine of the atonement, as unwor-
thy of belief.

" It appears to me," said his friend,
" that if you reject everything which you
cannot wholly conceive flr comprehend,
you must not only reject the Bible, but
adopt the views of the atheist, and deny
the existence of a God." The philoso-
pher admitted the force of this observa-
tion, and declared, that, as he had no
sensible, or visible, proof of the existence
of the Deity, he disbelieved the existence
of such a Being.

Thus far the watchful ear and quick
sense of the child caught and compre-
hended the conversation, and as her
mother had given her a religious educa-
tion, she was not a little startled and
surprised at the opinions which her
father had uttered.

She said nothing about it, however, at

THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER.

the time, and two or three weeks passed
before she gave any indications of having
noticed the conversation. She was one
day walking with her father, when they
chanced to discover a single violet the
first they had seen, for it was the begin-
ning of spring. She stooped down to pick
it, but paused a moment, and looking
her father in the face, inquired, " What
makes this little flower grow, father ? "

" The heat and moisture and the prin-
ciple of vegetable life," was the reply.

" But how does it grow ? " said she.
" Can heat and water and seeds make a
flower?"

" It is the course of nature, my child,"
said the philosopher.

" But I want to know," said she, " what
this course of nature is ? I want to know
how it operates ? Is nature alive ? Has
it power to make flowers ? and by what
means does it work ? "

" I cannot tell you, child," was the
answer. " We do not understand these
things, we only know the fact that such
things are."

"Well, don't you believe that the
flower grows, father ? " said the child.

" Certainly," was the reply. " Why
do you ask ? "

" Because I heard you tell Mr. B., the
other day, that you never believed any-
thing you could not understand."

The philosopher here turned the con-
versation, and they walked on.

A few days after this the child was
taken sick of a fever. As she lay upon
her bed, she could distinctly feel the
beatings of her heart, which shook her
whole frame. Her father was by the bed-
side. Though suffering from disease, the
mind of the little girl was perfectly clear.

"What makes the heart beat?" said
she to her father.

" It is the principle of life," said he.

" And what is this principle of life ? "
said the child.

" I cannot explain it to you," said the
philosopher; " we do not comprehend it;
we only know- that there is such a thing,
and that by its impulse the heart beats
and the blood circulates."

" Put your hand on my breast," said
the child. The father did as requested.

" Does not my heart beat, father ? "

" Yes," was the reply.

" And yet you cannot comprehend
how this is. You said we must believe
nothing which we cannot explain. Yet
I know that my heart beats, though you
cannot tell me how, or why. Dear father,
may I not believe in a God, though I
cannot comprehend his nature or exist-
ence ; and may I not believe in the
Bible, and its wonderful doctrines, even
though they may be beyond my feeble
reason ? "

The philosopher stood rebuked, but
again he turned the conversation.

The fever which had attacked the
little girl proceeded in its rapid course,
and in a few days she drew near her
end. As her spirit was about to depart,
she called, in a faint whisper, for her
faiher. He placed his ear near to her
lips, and caught her last words ; " Father,
may I not believe that. Christ died for
sinners ? may I .not believe, though I
cannot fully comprehend, the doctrine of
the atonement ? "

The philosopher wept, and answered,
" Believe, my child; you have conquered
my unbelief!"

THE HUNTING LEOPARD.

The Hunting Leopard,

THIS handsome animal of the Cat fami-
ly, sometimes called the Ounce, and
also the Chetah, is of the size of a
large dog, and has a very long tail.
It is of a pale yellow above and white be-
neath, the body being marked with
irregular black spots. It is of a slender
make, and its agility is surprising. It is
less ferocious than the tiger, panther and
true leopard ; and having blunted claws,
like a dog, is used, in the southern parts
of Asia, for hunting the antelope and oth-
er game. It is a native, also, of Africa, but
it has never been trained for this purpose.
The chetah is chiefly used in hunting
by the nobles of India. The mode of
proceeding is thus described. The ani-
mals are carried to the field in low char-
iots, being tied and hooded. This is
done in order to deprive them of the
power and temptation to anticipate the
word of command by leaping forth before

the appointed time. When they are thus
brought within view of a herd of ante-
lopes, which generally consists of five or
six females and a male, they are un-
chained, and their hoods are removed,
their keeper directing their attention to
the prey, which, as they do not hunt by
smell, it is necessary that they should
constantly have in sight.

When this is done, the wily animal does
not at once start forward towards the ob-
ject of his pursuit, but, seemingly aware
that he would have no chance of over-
taking an antelope in the fleetness of the
race, in which the latter is beyond meas-
ure his superior, winds cautiously along
the ground, concealing himself as much
as possible from sight, and, when he has
in this covert manner nearly reached the
unsuspecting herd, breaks forth upon
them unawares, and, after five or six
tremendous bounds, which he executes

CONJUGAL AFFECTION.

with almost incredible velocity, darts at
once upon his terrified victim, strangles
him in an instant, and takes his fill of
blood.

In the mean while the keeper quietly
approaches the scene of slaughter, caress-
es the successful animal, and throws to
him pieces of meat to amuse him and
keep him quiet while he blinds him with
the hood, and replaces him upon the
chariot, to which he is again attached by
the chain. But if, as is not unfrequently
the case, the herd should have taken the
alarm, and the chetah should prove un-
successful in his attack, he never at-
tempts to pursue them, but returns to his
master with a mortified and dejected air,
to be again let slip at a fresh quarry
whenever a fit opportunity occurs.

Conjugal Affection,

CHAPTER II.

[Concluded.]

VICTORIA immediately saw the propriety
of the latter suggestion, and on the
following day she disguised herself
as a Moorish fruit-seller ; and with a
basket of vegetables on her head, and
her little daughter by her side disguised
in the same manner, she got admittance
to the outward wards of the castle ; and
while disposing of her fruit to the gover-
nor and his dependants, got into conver-
sation with the soldiery, from whom,
however, she could obtain none of the
information she wanted.

Her whole time was now occupied by
day in visiting the prison in the disguise
she had assumed ; and at night in keep-
ing up the correspondence of so much
importance. By this means, at the sug-

gestion of Albert, she supplied him, not
only with writing materials, but with a
file, a chisel, and a hammer; and had
got even a rope in readiness, should it be
required for future operation.

Albert had in the first instance thought
of breaking through the walls of his
dungeon ; but alas ! they were eighteen
feet thick, and no effort that he could
make upon them with the slight tools
he possessed, was sufficient to separate
them. He had, with great caution, taken
out two or three stones in the wall of his
dungeon, but the interior stones were so
firmly wedged, that they defied him.
The labor of his task was enormous ;
and this was increased from the neces-
sity of replacing every stone in its re-
spective niche, so as to escape the vigi-
lant eye of the keepers. So, at last, poor
Albert began to despair.

Victoria, however, whose inventions
were more fertile than those of her hus-
band, still comforted him. She told him
that she would never desist in her exer-
tions while he remained a prisoner, and
bade him have hope and trust. He,
however, had little reason to hope, for
he was told by one of his guards, that
on the next day, he was to be examined
for the fourth time.

And examined he was. Torn from
his dungeon at midnight, he was again
brought before4he Inquisition. The ex-
aminers sat before him, in a room hung
with black. Behind the chair of the
chief commissioner, who wore a square
cap, shone, in all the brilliance of pure
white silver, an image of the crucified
Redeemer ; and beneath it, a skull and
cross bones. The marquis was bound,
and without being asked a single ques-

CONJUGAL AFFECTION.

tion, was placed at once upon a rack
in the corner of the room. A physician
stood by his side to watch his agonies,
and to stop the torture when beyond
human endurance ; and the secretary of
the fraternity sat ready to record the
answers to the questions put to the un-
happy man.

Thus tortured to confess crimes which
he never committed, the marquis had
every bone dislocated ; and when nature
gave up the contest, and he sunk into
stupor, he was removed back to his dun-
geon. For some days, he remained in
the most helpless condition, without
being able to move a limb, except in
exquisite torture. Yet, after a time, his
system recovered its wonted strength,
and Albert was again inspired with hope.

Victoria Colonna had pursued the
same course of communication previ-
ously adopted for several successive
days, and receiving no answer to her
signs, was at last on the brink of despair.
She believed that the wickedness of man
had done its worst, and that her husband
had escaped by death from the power
of the tormentor. Day after day, she
watched with anxious longing for some
sign of his still being an inhabitant of
the earth ; but no sign was given to her,
and she was on the point of giving up
all further exertions, when on one of her
nightly walks and watchjngs round the
captive's tower, her ear was delighted
with the well-known clatter of a piece
of tile. She ran to the spot, and once
more recognized the well-known hand-
writing of Albert " I still live for Vic-
toria," was the only sentence inscribed
by the unhappy prisoner.

The faithful wife now lost not a mo-

ment in devising some other plan for
her husband's escape. She pondered
all the next day, and part of the next
night. As soon as it was dark, she
again raised her kite by the side of the
tower, placed a note under its wing, in
which she bade her husband be of good
cheer, promising all her assistance, and
suggesting his making a breach in the
wall with the implements already af-
forded him. To this, on the following
night, Albert replied, stating the utter
impracticability of the plan, by reason
of the thickness of the wall ; but urging
her to procure a sufficient quantity of
gunpowder, by which the masses of
stone might be separated and a breach
made.

Victoria seized the hint, and with the
rapidity of thought, made her arrange-
ments. By means of the kite, the fol-
lowing night, a stouter line was raised
to the aperture, and from ihis, one still
stronger ; and by means of the last, the
prisoner drew up several other*'cutting
implements a boring auger, and several
parcels of gunpowder. Lastly, a still
larger cord was drawn up; and it was
then arranged that on the following
night, the attempt should be made to
blast the massive walls of the tower.

The next day, Victoria was busily
employed in arranging the means cf
escape. She had procured the dress
of a friar, both for herself and husband,
and wore one over the other; and at
midnight, she again took her station
below the tower. Again she established
the communication between herself and
husband ; and having raised to himself
several other packets of gunpowder,
lastly had fastened to the cord the

CONJUGAL AFFECTION SCRAPS.

lighted match. But at the very moment
of success, she found a strong arm
grasping her, and two ruffian soldiers,
with unsheathed weapons, close at her
breast. She screamed fearfully. The
words "bind her," startled her still
more, for it was the voice of Montalbert,
the wretch who had caused the imprison-
ment of her husband.

" Drag her away," said the count.

Victoria clung to the projecting walls
of the castle, having fixed her fingers
within a clamping-iron, and hung to it
with the tenacity of one who clings to
life; while her screams and lamenta-
tions filled the air. Albert heard it,
and judged of the cause. He applied
the match to the mine he had pierced
through the stones of the tower. With
a tremendous crack and explosion, the
ancient walls opened, shook, collapsed,
and fell. The tower was shattered to its
foundation ; and prisoner and dungeon,
turret and battlement, fell down in one
prodigious ruin, and with an uproar that
shook the city.

Montalbert lay dead among the ruins.
The faithful Victoria was miraculously
saved, and Albert rose from the fallen
stones uninjured. He clasped his be-
loved wife to his heart, and without
losing a moment's time, both escaped in
the confusion and consternation that fol-
lowed.

They soon proceeded far from Italy,
to a land where imprisonment for con,-
science sake is unknown, where spiritual
domination cannot usurp nature's rights ;
and where the children of God can walk
in security and peace ; and that land was
England. Here they lived the remain-
der of their days in all the enjoyment

which this country of true liberty always
affords to the fugitive and stranger.

A POINTED BLOW. An invalid sent
for a physician, the late Dr. "Wheelman,
and after detaining him for some time
with a description of his pains, aches,
&c., he thus summed up with

" Now, Doctor, you have humbugged
me long enough with your good-for-
nothing pills and worthless syrups ; they
don't touch the real difficulty. I wish
you to strike the cause of my ailment,
if it is in your power to reach it."

" It shall be done," said the Doctor, at
the same time lifting his cane, and de-
molishing a decanter of gin that stood
upon the sideboard !

INHABITANTS OF AN OYSTER. Observa-
tions with the microscope have shown
that the shell of an oyster is a world oc-
cupied by an innumerable quantity of
small animals, compared to which the
oyster itself is a colossus. The liquid
enclosed between the shells of the oys-
ter, contains a multitude of embryos, cov-
ered with transparent scales, which swim
with ease ; a hundred and twenty of
these embryos, placed side by side, would
not make an inch in breadth.

This liquor contains besides, a great
variety of animalcule, five hundred times
less in size, which give out a phosphoric
light. Yet these are not the only inhab-
itants of this dwelling ; there are, also,
three distinct species of worms.

" I am transported to see you," as the
convict at New Holland said to the kan-
garoo.

CHURCH OF ST. PETER'S AT ROME.

St. Peter's Church.

Church of St, Peter's at Rome,

I HIS sublime edifice is by far the most
costly and stupendous religious build-
ing in the world. It was begun by
one of the popes of Rome, Julius II.,
in 1506. His object was, to have a
church that might become the seat and
centre of the great Catholic Church
throughout the world. The first archi-
tect employed was Lazzari, but he died
soon after, and the task devolved upon
the famous Michael Angelo. It required,
indeed, a man of great genius to design
and carry forward so stupendous a work.
The building was one hundred and fif-
teen years in progress, and extended
through the reigns of no less than eigh-
teen popes. The cost of it was amazing,
being equal to one hundred and sixty
millions of dollars at the present day.
A period of one hundred and fifty years
or more was required to complete the
colonnade and other ornaments after the
body of the structure was finished. Great

numbers of people are now constantly at
work to keep the enormous mass in re-
pair. The annual expense of this is
estimated at thirty thousand dollars.

The clear length of the church within
is 615 feet, its utmost breadth 448, its
height 464 feet. The greater part of it
is of stone, though some portion is of
marble. The foundations are immense,
and it is said that they contain a greater
mass of stone than the building above
the ground. In front of the church, and
within the colonnade, is a beautiful obe-
lisk, brought from Egypt almost two
thousand years ago. On each side of
this is a fountain, the waters of which
rise to the height of seventy feet and fall
in three cascades ; the whole forming a
cone of falling waters. They continue
to fall day and night, and nothing can
be more beautiful than the effect pro-
duced. They are supplied by ancient
Roman aqueducts, from lake Braccano,

FORTUNE-TELLING.

which is seventeen miles distant. Every
thing is vast in and about this wonderful
edifice. The interior is very grand, and
strikes the heholder with awe. The
figures of the four Evangelists, which
adorn the inside of the cupola, are of
such enormous size, that the pen in the
hand of St. Mark is six feet long. The
interior is enriched with a great number
of figures of saints and other works of
art. In the centre of the church, where

the light pours down from the dome, is
the tomb of St. Peter, before which
one hundred lamps are kept constantly
burning.

Some idea of the vastness of this
structure may be formed from the fact
that great numbers of persons live upon
the roof, in buildings which are not seen
from below, yet appear almost like the
streets of a city !

A Gypsy telling fortunes.

Fortune -Telling,

I HE desire of looking into futurity of
knowing what is going to happen
appears to be universal in mankind.
To a certain extent, we may gratify
this feeling, but it is to be done by the
exercise of a sound judgment. We may
thus generally tell what is coming to
pass, in respect to most important trans-
actions of life, so far as is necessary
f or us.

But many people desire to go farther ;
to unseal the book of fate, and read what
is hidden from mortal sight. Young
ladies often desire to know who they
shall have for husbands : whether they
shall be rich or poor; happy or miserable.
And instead of leaving these things to
time, and the dispensation of Providence,
they must often go to some cheat who
pretends to tell fortunes. Thus they lose

FORTUNE-TELLING.

their time and their money* and allow
themselves to play the part of folly.

Nor ahre young ladies the only persons
who sometimes yield to such idle non-
sense. Young men often do the same
and also old men and old women. It is,
I believe, a common notion, that certain
strange, odd, eccentric, mysterious per-
sons have the power of reading the future
and telling what is coming to pass. So
common is this shallow superstition, that
fortune-tellers, though they require a
good deal of money, to read their riddles,
often find pretty good encouragement.

These jugglers generally pretend to
tell the fortunes of persons by the stars,
or by looking at the lines in the palm of
the hand, or by the cast of the counte-
nance, or by all these means combined.
They frequently consult books with
strange figures in them ; and sometimes
they seem to make profound calculations.
But all these are mere arts to impose
upon- their dupes. The simple fact is,
that fortune-telling is, always and under
all circumstances, a cheat. One person
can see into the future as well as another,
as to all that lies beyond the sagacity of
mere human judgment. A person who
believes, therefore, that any one has the
art or gift of fortune-telling, is the victim
of superstition, and the dupe of artifice.

In England, Spain and Germany there
are a few wandering people called Gyp-
sies. They are of a dark skin, almost
like our Indians : they have black hair,
black eyes, and altogether a dark and
wild aspect. They speak a strange
tongue, have strange habits, and are a
very peculiar people.

The women of this race very often
pretend to be fortune-tellers. They have

great address in making their dupes be-
lieve in their mysterious power. They
frequently gain some information as to
the history of a person ; then, presenting
themselves before him, offer to tell his
fortune. Affecting to know nothing of
him never to have seen him before
they proceed to weave the web of fate ;
taking care to mingle in some real inci-
dents of his life. The person thus is
amazed to find the strange Gypsy, who
has never seen him before, telling accu-
rately the leading circumstances of his
history; and as she seems to read the
past by her mysterious art he thinks,
by the same power, she can of course
unravel the future !

TRAVELLING in the north-west of Amer-
ica is effected by dog-trains. Three dogs
will draw a man and his provisions. The
traders travel all over the wilderness
with them over unbeaten snow, generally
following the course of rivers. The dogs
are easily trained to turn, halt, or go, by
the word of command. When the trav-
eller wishes his dogs to turn to the left,
he says " chuck," and cracks his little
whip on the right side of the train ; if to
the right, he says " gee," and cracks it
on the left side. When he wishes them
to start or quicken their gait, he says
" march," or " avancez;" when he wishes
to turn short about, he says " venez ici"
making a motion with the little whip at
the same time.

Ne'er till to-morrow's light delay
What may as well be done to-day.

Ne'er do the thing you 'd wish undone
Viewed by to-morrow's midday sun.

THE LIFE OF MARTIN LUTHER.

The Life of Martin Luther,

(Continued.)

WHEN Luther was fully informed of
the operations of Tetzel and his as-
sociates, he drew up certain themes
or propositions, setting forth his
own views of the powers of the church,
and denouncing the avarice, impudence
and licentiousness of the priests who
went about selling indulgences and ex-
torting money, under the pretence of
making collections for the church.

Though there was nothing in these
themes, hut what many Catholics had
maintained, they assailed in some points,
especially the favorite doctrine of infalli-
bility, the accepted creed of that day.
He, however, boldly published them,
challenged reply, and defended them in
his own pulpit. Multitudes gathered to
hear him, and his opinions were rapidly
spread over Europe.

Tetzel and his associates were greatly
enraged ; they formally burnt Luther's
theses, and then proceeded to answer
them, chiefly by assuming the supreme
authority and infallibility of the pope.
This injured their cause, and their re-
ply to Luther was publicly burnt by
the students of Wittemberg. Such was
the beginning of the storm which shook
Europe to its foundation, and finally
stripped the pope of his spiritual su-
premacy. Yet, when Leo heard of the
dispute at Wittemberg, he only said, " It is
a quarrel between monks ; but brother
Luther seems to be a man of parts ! "

Luther's fame was rapidly extended,
but as yet he had no idea of separating
from the Church of Eome. In 1518, he
wrote a submissive letter to the pope, in

which he sys, " I throw myself prostrate
at your feet, most holy father: call or
recall me, condemn or approve, as you
please : I shall acknowledge your voice
as the voice of Christ, who presides and
speaks in your person."

But the pope, who had once thought
so lightly of Luther's influence, was ere
long seriously alarmed, and at last sum-
moned him to appear at .Rome, to be
examined, within sixty days. The dan-
ger to Luther in doing this was obvious,
and his friend the Elector of Saxony
obtained permission to have his examin-
ation take place at Augsburg. Here
Cardinal Cajetan, or Caietano, was com-
manded to examine him. Thither Luther
went, accompanied by his friend Staup-
nitz. The cardinal required a recanta-
tion of what he had written ; but this
Luther refused. Warned of danger that
threatened him, he left Augsburg, and
returned to Wittemberg. The pope
now issued a bull, declaring that he, as
Christ's vicar on earth, had power to
deliver from all punishment due for sin
to those who repented and were in a
state of grace, whether alive or dead.
Luther now appealed from the pope to a
general council of the church.

Pope Leo now commissioned a prelate,
named Milnitz, to endeavor to bring Lu-
ther to a recantation. This dignitary
was a man of talent and skill, and in an
interview with Luther, he greatly con-
ciliated the feelings of the latter. Mil-
nitz condemned the abuse of the sale of
indulgences, threw the blame upon Tet-
zel and his associates, and finally induced
Luther to write another submissive letter
to the pope, acknowledging that he had
carried his zeal too far, and promising to

- THE LIFE OF MARTIN LUTHER.

observe silence upon the matter in de-
bate, if his adversaries would adhere to
the same line of conduct. This letter
has subjected Luther to great scandal,
as a retraction of his principles ; but it
must be regarded only as evidence of
the profound reverence with which he
regarded the institution of the Church of
Koine, in whose faith he had been edu-
cated, and the difficulty with which his
mind burst asunder the fetters which it
had thrown around him. The pope
himself at this period wrote a kind letter
to Luther, and it is probable that the
breach might have been healed, had not
Luther's enemies again opened the con-
troversy.

Eckius of Ingoldstadt challenged Car-
elstadt, one of Luther's disciples, to an
open discussion at Leipsic. Luther went
thither himself, agreeing to take no part
in the disputation. The debate attracted
the great and the learned, from a vast
distance. Among the listeners was the
celebrated Melancthon, who was deter-
mined by what he here heard to devote
himself to the cause of reform.

Eckius was a man of brilliant elo-
quence, and seemed to have the advan-
tage of his antagonist, after a dispute of
six days. It was then agreed, by Eckius'
desire, that Luther himself should enter
the lists. The debate was continued for
several days, and different accounts were
given of the result ; but Hoffmann, the
rector of the University of Leipsic, who
had been appointed judge of the disputa-
tion, considering it to be so equally bal-
anced, that he refused to pronounce a
decision.

Luther went on to write several works,
mostly questioning the lofty assumptions

VOL. VIII. 4

of the Church of Home. He exposed
the fatuity of penance, and pilgrimages;
the impiety of worshipping saints ; and
the abuses of the confessional ; he con-
demned the celibacy of priests, and de-
nounced monastic vows. Leo now assem-
bled a congregation of cardinals, before
whom Luther's works were laid for adju-
dication. By their advice, a bull was
drawn up, in which forty -one proposi-
tions, taken from his books, were de-
nounced as heretical ; his writings were
condemned to be publicly burnt, and
he himself was summoned to appear at
Rome, and retract his writings on pain
of excommunication. Luther again ap-
pealed to a general council of the church ;
and publicly separated himself from the
communion of the Church of Rome, by
burning the pope's bull on a pile of
wood, without the walls of Wittemberg,
in presence of a vast multitude of people.
This occurred, December 10th, 1520.
Soon after, the pope thundered against
him his bull of excommunication.

The situation of the great Reformer
was now one to put his moral courage
to the severest test. Staupnitz, his early
friend, had deserted him, and made
peace with the church ; Luther had writ-
ten to Erasmus, of Rotterdam, who had
written in behalf of reformation in the
church, but that timid arid irresolute
scholar made him no answer. Even
Spalatinus, once his ardent friend, was
now seized with fear. Eckius, who had
also been his friend, was, as we have
seen, in open opposition to him. At the
same time, society was violently torn
with the questions which Luther had
started. While some declared in his
favor, the majority, including a vast pre-

THE LIFE OF MARTIN LUTHER. .

ponderance of the rich and powerful,
continued, even in Germany, to oppose
him. By the rigid Catholics he was
looked upon with horror. No terms too
harsh could be found to heap upon his
name ; no scandal so vile could be in-
vented, that it did not find believers ; he
was withal denounced by the papal bull
of excommunication, that formidable and
fearful curse, which few minds in that
age had the iron hardihood to withstand.
He was accused in the view of millions,
who would have deemed it a service
worthy of heaven to have taken the life
of one regarded as a disciple of the Devil.
The "arch-fiend" was a common title,
bestowed upon him by his enemies. Yet,
amid these perils, Luther stood as un-
daunted as the oak before the tempest ;
and though the lightning fell and the
thunder burst upon and around him, he
met it all unscathed.

Luther had, indeed, one powerful and
steadfast friend, Frederick the Elector
of Saxony. The pope had endeavored
to persuade him to give up the dreaded
and hated priest, but in vain. He now
sought to accomplish his object by other
means. Maximilian, the Emperor of
Germany, was dead, and Charles V.,
King of Spain, in 1518, had been elected
in his place. Leo applied to him to
make an example of Luther, as an obdu-
rate heretic. Frederick interposed, and
persuaded Charles to cause him to be
tried by a diet of the empire at Worms.
Having obtained the emperor's safe-con-
duct, Luther set forward upon his jour-
ney to that place, for his trial.

His friends trembled for the issue ;
every heart seemed burthened save his
own. Melancthon, now his intimate

friend, attended him. Luther, in the pul-
pit, seemed to breathe only of religion :
in society, he was frank, cheerful, and
engaging. He cultivated every innocent
thing that could make life more agreea-
ble. He went on his way to Worms,
which many expected would prove his
grave, with perfect equanimity, saying,
" If it is God's will that I die, I am pre-
pared ; yet I believe that my time has
not yet come."

He arrived at Worms on the 16th of
April, 1521. On entering the town, he
began singing the hymn " Our God is
a strong citadel " and this became the
inspiring song of the Reformation. Num-
bers of Luther's friends, who were with
him, alarmed as they approached the city
of Worms, deserted him ; but his cheer-
fulness continued unchanged.

Worms was at that moment the point
to which the eyes of all Europe were
turned. Thither multitudes had gath-
ered, impelled by an intense desire to see
the result of the trial. The questions at
issue had evidently entered deeply into
the hearts of men ; and now the person
who had caused this mighty movement
was there. And what was he ? A simple
monk, a man without station, office,
rank or badge; but truth and courage
had given him a power which made
potentates tremble. They were as the
Philistines, and he as Samson, with his
arms around the pillars of the temple.
With what a feeling of interest did the
concourse of people look on Martin
Luther that day !

He was conducted, the day after his
arrival, to the diet, by the marshal of the
empire. There were the cardinals and
princes in their badges of office and

THE LIFE OF MARTIN LUTHER.

insignia of rank. It was an august
assembly, in which Charles V., Emperor
of Germany and King of Spain, presided.
Luther came in, wearing a simple black
gown, with a belt around his waist. He
moved with a modest but tranquil step.
Melancthon, Spalatinus and other friends
were at his side. Luther was now asked
if he acknowledged himself to be the
author of certain books bearing his name.
When they were enumerated, he said he
would not deny them. " Are you ready
to retract what has been condemned in
these books ? " was now asked. He re-
quested time for reply ; a day was given
him. The enemies of Luther now tri-
umphed, and his friends feared for him.
It was apprehended that he would shrink
from the fearful ordeal. When he went
to the diet, he was cheered by thousands
of voices ; as he returned, the enthusiasm
had passed away.

The next day, Luther again appeared
before the diet, and being asked if he
meant to retract his writings, he replied
mildly, yet firmly, in Latin, that he did
not. He besought the assembly to hear
with candor and judge him with fairness.
He appealed to the youthful emperor,
and mildly warned him against rash
judgments.

When one of the assembly demanded
of him a direct answer to the question
whether he would recant or not he
replied that he would retract nothing,
unless it could be shown to be inconsis-
tent with the Bible. To the Scriptures
he appealed, as the word of God, and
when that sustained him, he would yield
nothing. " To act against my con-
science," said he, " is neither safe nor
honest. Here I stanu I cannot do oth-

erwise may God help me. Amen ! "
The latter words were pronounced in his
native German, with a deep and affecting
emphasis.

Although the assembly, as Catholics,
disapproved of Luther's views, his noble
bearing excited their respect and wonder.
The Archbishop of Treves, touched with
the sublimity of his conduct, paid him a
visit, and sought to win him back to the
church. This was, of course, in vain.
Luther's friends were now filled with
enthusiastic admiration, and his enemies
could not withhold their respect. The
decision of the diet was of course against
him, and the emperor ordered him forth-
with to leave Worms. He left it on the
26th of April.

An edict was now issued by the em-
peror, to go into effect as soon as his
safe-conduct to Luther should expire.
In this, he was denounced as the " Devil
in the shape of a man and the dress of a
monk. All the subjects of the empire,"
continued the bull, " are required to seize
upon him, and deliver him up to justice."
It may well be believed that dismay now
seized upon the friends of Luther. What
was their horror, soon after, to hear that
as he was travelling with a single attend-
ant towards his house, he was beset in
the forests of Thuringia, dragged from
his carriage by several men in masks,
and hurried away. His companion had
escaped to tell the tale. Consternation
reigned throughout Germany, and in the
town of Wittemberg, sorrow and wailing
was in almost every dwelling.

But it was not long before a new work
from Luther's pen was announced, and
it was of a date subsequent to his alleged
murder. Melancthon also received a

THE LIFE OF MARTIN LUTHER.

letter from him " Give yourself no un-
easiness for me," said he ; " both you
and your wife may rest assured of my
welfare. I am not only supplied with all
the necessaries of life, but if I chose I
could command the luxuries ; but I trust
God will preserve me from such snares.
I wish not to receive the reward of my
labors in this world, but in the world to
come."

The explanation of the mystery was
this. The elector, foreseeing that, in
consequence of the emperor's proclama-
tion, Luther's life would be in danger,
had caused him to be waylaid and car-
ried in safety to the old castle of Wart-
burg, near Eisenach ; while a story of
his murder was propagated by his fugi-
tive attendant. Luther, being supplied
with every convenience, devoted himself
to study, yet was required by the elector
by no means to permit his retreat to be
known. He was situated in an old cas-
tle, built upon a lofty eminence which
commanded a delightful prospect. Freed
from care and anxiety, his mind seemed
to soar aloft like the birds around his
dwelling. His letters written at this
period are full of poetic fancy, and show
that his mind sympathized with the love-
ly scenes around him.

His confinement lasted for ten months.
During this brief period, he translated
the New Testament into German, besides
writing treatises against auricular con-
fession, monastic vows, clerical celibacy,
prayers for the dead, &c. His works
spread with amazing rapidity, and pro-
duced a wonderful effect, particularly in
Saxony. Hundreds of monks quitted
their convents and married ; the Austin
friars of Wittember" 1 abolished mass.

The excitement soon ran into excess, and
Carolstadt, a disciple of Luther, demol-
ished the images in a church at Wittem-
berg, and proposed to banish all books
from the university, except the Bible.
He even affected to obey to the letter
the sentence pronounced on Adam, and
went to work a portion of each day in
the fields. The mild and polished Me-
lancthon caught the infection, and labored
in a baker's shop.

Luther in his retirement heard of these
follies, which were calculated to ruin his
cause, and at the risk of his life immedi-
ately departed for Wittemberg. He now
preached openly his doctrines, with ama-
zing power and effect. He succeeded in
quelling the violence of his fanatical fol-
lowers. These sermons are patterns of
moderation, wisdom and popular elo-
quence ; they show a marked contrast
to the violence and scurrility which soil
his writings directed against the malig-
nity and duplicity with which he had
chiefly to contend.

Luther was now the acknowledged
head of the reformation. He continued
by preaching and writing to aid the great
cause of Protestantism. His productions
were stained with coarse invective ; but
this was the taste of the age, and belongs
equally to his opponents. In 1524, he
threw off his monastic dress, and con-
demned monastic institutions. Convents
both of men and women were now rap-
idly suppressed, and the reformation in
some cases ran into fanaticism. A sect
called Anabaptists ran into the wildest
extremes at Munster. They made war
upon property and law, and in their
madness practised the grossest vices and
crimes under the sanction of religion.

THE LIFE OF MARTIN LUTHER.

Luther was sorely grieved at these
things, and did all in his power to cor-
rect them, though not with complete
success.

In 1525, he married Catherine de
Bora, a young nun, who had left her
convent a year before, and resided with
Melancthon. He was happy in this mar-
riage, and though at the age of forty-two,
seems to have entered into it almost with
the affections of youth. In 1534, he com-
pleted his great work, the German ver-
sion of the Bible, which is much admired
for its elegance, force and precision, and
has rendered the Scriptures really popu-
lar in Germany.

The remaining years of his life were
passed in comparative quiet. In 1546,
being at Eisleben, he fell sick on the 17th
of February, and seemed at once to be
aware of his approaching end. He grew
worse in the evening, and died in the
midst of his friends, expressing a firm
conviction of the truth of that faith, which
he had taught. His body was carried
to Wittemberg, and buried with great
honors.

Luther's works are voluminous, and
great favorites in Germany. In company,
he was always lively, and abounded in
sallies of wit and good humor ; he gave
advice and assistance wherever it was
needed ; he interested himself for every
indigent person who applied to him, and
devoted himself with his whole soul to
the pleasures of society. Rough and
stormy as are his controversial writings,
he was no stranger to the elegant arts.
His soul was filled with music, and he
often solaced himself by singing and
playing upon the flute and lute.

Nor is Luther to be regarded only in

the light of a religious reformer. He not
only burst the bonds of religious tyranny
throughout Christendom, but he created
in Germany that impulse towards spir-
itual philosophy, that thirst for knowl-
edge, that logical exercise of the mind,
which have made the Germans the most
intellectual people in Europe. He was
the friend of education, of mental free-
dom, of religious light, of civil liberty.
He rescued the Bible from the exclusive
grasp of the Church of Rome ; by a gigan-
tic effort he translated it into his native
tongue ; he not only made it acceptable
to forty millions who spoke his native
language, but he made it the common
property of the people of all Europe. He
was no courtly flatterer but the friend
of the poor and the humble ; he was as
ready to condemn cupidity and extrava-
gance among his followers, as among
those who adhered t6 the Church of
Rome.

The life which Luther led was calcu-
lated to develop the sterner parts of his
character, and we must admit that his
writings display many gross and abusive
passages ; yet he possessed many gentle
and attractive qualities. His love of mu-
sic amounted to a passion ; " Old Hun-
dred," a tune which has guided and
elevated the devotion of millions, was his
composition, and some of our sweetest
hymns were written by him. His famil-
iar letters are full of gentle affections.
Even when Tetzel, his special enemy,
was deserted by those who had used him,
and now, in poverty and desolation, was
upon his deathbed, Luther was at his
side, pouring into his harassed soul the
oil of consolation. One of his last acts,
was that of reconciliation, in a noble but

THE LIFE OF MARTIN LUTHER.

distracted house. When we look through
the steel mail of the controversialist, the
reformer, and observe traits of charac-
ter like these, we cannot but lift our
thoughts with thanks to Heaven, that
human nature with all its drawbacks
when elevated by religion, has such
capacities as these.

To estimate Luther's character, and
the work he accomplished, we must bear
in mind the circumstances under which
he acted. He was educated a Catholic,
in a country where the dominion of the
Romish Church was complete, as well
over the government as the people. All
around him, father, mother, friends, so-
ciety were living in abject submission to
the established creed. Doubts were held
as the suggestions of the Devil ; freedom
of thought was infidelity ; denial of any
received dogma was heresy, .and worthy
the judgments of the Inquisitor of pun-
ishment here and hereafter. These were
the orthodox notions of the age, and
Luther was a priest of that church
which bound the civilized world to such
a system.

What a fearful struggle in his own
mind, with his own habits of thought,
his associations and convictions, did it
involve, for the Reformer first to doubt,
and then to repudiate, the faith which
thus enthralled him ! What courage of
soul, to meet the fears that spring up in
the bosom ; what energy of mind, to rend
asunder the chains that fetter the reason,
in such a condition ! And when he had
triumphed over internal difficulties, what
a work was still before him ! The pope,
by the invisible cords of spiritual des-
potism, held all Europe in subjection.

Every monarch was more or less his
slave; every prison, like some fearful
monster, was ready to open its jaws at his
command, and close them upon whom-
soever he might designate : the jealous
inquisition, with all-seeing eyes, all-
hearing ears, spread its net on every
hand. All the united powers and preju-
dices of society public opinion, laws,
institutions, armies, prisons, chains, fire,
the rack were in the hands of the
church, and it was against this that one
man was called to contend. It was as if
a single knight, and he without arms,
were called to attack the lordly castle,
whose massive walls and towering battle-
ments might look down with disdain
upon the assailant.

And yet Luther triumphed. We can-
not doubt that he was sustained by a
deep conviction of the rectitude of his
cause ; that a sense of duty raised him
above the considerations of personal in-
terest and safety ; that he acted as if in
the presence of God, and in the hope of
a heavenly, not an earthly, recompense.
We must not only admit that his abilities
were great ; his qualities rare and well
adapted to his work ; that he was a man
of peculiar singleness and sincerity of
aim ; and that he was endowed with the
richest graces of religion ; but we must
admit something more that truth is
mighty ; that the abuses of the Church
of Rome had risen to such a pitch as to
furnish the very elements of revolution ;
and finally, that the good providence of
God shaped events to their great issues
in behalf of liberty and light. Can any
one explain the revolution achieved by
Luther, on any grounds short of these ?

ENGLISH FARMERS.

Rent-Day.

English Farmers,

IHIS picture represents a scene very
common in England, but more rare
with us. A farmer is paying the
rent of the house and farm he occu-
pies, to their owner. Here the farmer
usually owns the land he tills and the
house in which he dwells. It is not
always so, hut land is so cheap with us,
that he may generally be the proprietor
of enough for the support of a family,
together with a tenement sufficient for
their comfort.

In England there is hardly such a
class of persons as our independent, pru-
dent, intelligent owners of the soil : the
farmers are there, for the most part, per-
sons of some wealth, who hire land upon
leases of twenty-one years. They are a
highly respectable class of persons, sel- ,

dom laboring themselves, and only over-
seeing their numerous workmen. The
persons they employ are often exceed-
ingly poor, toiling very hard for small
wages, with poor fare.

The wife of the farmer in England is
generally a stout, rosy-cheeked, hand-
some woman, very neatly dressed ; she
oversees the dairy, and the various ope-
rations of the household. She is gene-
rally very systematic in her affairs ; each
person has her particular course of duty,
and is expected to do it thoroughly.

The English farm-house is generally
of brick or stone ; it is irregularly built,
and seems to have been put up at many
different times, according to circumstan-
ces and without any regular plan. It
looks ancient, dark, respectable and com-

ENGLISH FARMERS.

fortable. Within, it is a pattern of neat-
ness, and is full of good furniture. The
beds are plump, and the sheets white as
snow. Every bed-room is furnished with
a carpet, table, bureau, &c.

The table of the English farmer is
generally well provided, and when the
family is seated around it, the scene is a
very pleasant one.

An English Farm-yard.

The barns in England are usually
of stone, and often several buildings are
crowded together. A good deal of the
hay is preserved in stacks. The barn-
yard of a thriving English farmer is
generally a scene which seems to bespeak

wealth and abundance ; but it must be
remembered that we are speaking of the
wealthier class. Some of these cultivate
several hundred acres, and it is not un-
common for one farmer to pay an annual
rent of from five to ten thousand dollars.

LONDON MENAGERIES. These are very
expensive establishments. The expense
of WombelPs collection is 170 dollars
a day. The cost of the animals also is
very considerable. A fine elephant is
worth 4500 dollars ; tigers have been
sold at 1400 dollars each; a panther is
worth 4-50 dollars, hyenas from 200 to
300; zebras from 700 to 900 dollars;
a fine ostrich is worth 900 dollars. A

young Indian one-horned rhinoceros cost
Cross 5000 dollars ; and three giraffes
cost the London Zoological Society 3000
dollars, exclusive of expenses.

THE word gazette was derived from
the name of the small Venetian coin,
which was the price of the first news-
paper.

A STORY OF THE REVOLUTION.

A Story of the Revolution,

THE following story, related by a mo-
ther to her children, a few years
since, will show the spirit which ex-
isted among the people of New Eng-
land at that trying period :

" Late in the afternoon of one of the
last days in May, '76, when I was a few
months short of fifteen years old, notice
came to Townsend, Massachusetts, where
my father used to live, that fifteen sol-
diers were wanted.

" The training band was instantly call-
ed out, and my brother, next older than I,
was one that was selected. He did not
return till late at night, when all were
in bed. When I rose in the morning I
found my mother in tears, who informed
me that my brother John was to march
the day after to-morrow morning at sun-
rise. My father was at Boston, in the
Massachusetts Assembly. Mother said
that though John was supplied with
summer clothes, he must be away seven
or eight months, and would suffer for
want of winter garments. There were
at this time no stores and no articles to
be had except such as each family would
make itself. The sight of mother's tears
always brought all the hidden strength
of the body and mind to action. I imme-
diately asked what garment was needful.
She replied, 'pantaloons.'

" ' ! if that is all,' said I, ' we will
spin and weave him a pair before he goes.'

" ' Tut,' said my mother, * the wool is
on the sheep's back, and the sheep are
ia the pasture.'

" I immediately turned to a younger
brother, and bade him take a salt dish
and call them to the yard.

" Mother replied, ' Poor child, there
are no sjieep shears within three miles
and a half.'

" ' I have some small shears at the
loom,' said I.

" ' But we can't spin and weave it in
so short a time.'

" ' I am certain we can, mother.'

" * How can you weave it ? there is a
long web of linen in the loom.'

"'No matter; I can find an empty
loom.' By this time the sound of the
sheep made me quicken my steps to-
wards the yard. I requested my sister
to bring me the wheel and cards, while
I went for the wool. I went into the
yard with my brother, and secured a
white sheep, from which I sheared, with
my loom shears, half enough for a web ;
we then let her go with the rest of the
fleece. I sent the wool in with my sis-
ter. Luther ran for a black sheep, and
held her while I cut off wool for my fill-
ing and half the warp, and then we al-
lowed her to go with the remaining part
of her fleece,

"The wool thus obtained was duly
carded and spun, washed, sized, and
dried ; a loom was found a few doors off,
the web got in, woven, and prepared, cut
and made two or three hours before my
brother's departure that is to say, in forty
hours from the commencement, without
help from any modern improvement."

The good old lady closed by saying,
" I felt no weariness, I wept not, I was
serving my country. I was assisting
poor mother, I was preparing a garment
for my darling brother.

" The garment being finished, I re-
tired and wept, till my overcharged and
bursting heart was relieved,"

LADY JANE GREY.

This brother was, perhaps, one of
Gen. Stark's soldiers, and with* such a
spirit to cope with, need we wonder that
Burgoyne did not execute his threat of
marching through the heart of America ?

Lady Jane Grey,

WE think our readers can hardly fail
to be interested in the story of this
amiable, but unfortunate lady. We
shall therefore tell it at some length.

Melancholy as was the fate of this
illustrious personage, she was fortunate,
in one respect. Though placed in a sit-
uation to excite envy and prejudice, and
though calumny and misrepresentation
might be deemed a road to royal favor,
no one of her cotemporaries has dared to
say ought that was ill of her ; and the
more attentive is the examination of her
history and character, the more deserv-
ing will she be found of those praises,
which some, in later times, have hinted
to have had their origin in a desire to
glorify a political and religious martyr.

She was the daughter of Henry Grey,
Duke of Suffolk, and Frances Brandon,
a granddaughter of Henry VII., and was
born at " a very faire, large, and beautiful
house," called Bradgate, in 1537.

The intercourse between parents and
children was not of that pleasing charac-
ter, now so universal; good discipline
was maintained by fear, rather than
love ; children, especially daughters,
were never admitted to any familiarity
with their parents; they were obliged,
even in womanhood, to stand at the cup-
board side during visits, except when

permitted to have a cushion to kneel on ;
and it was not unusual for ladies of the
highest rank, to correct their grown-up
daughters, even before company, with
the large fans which it was the fashion
to carry.

The parents of Lady Jane were even
more than usually severe ; which with
one, who from her birth was distinguish-
ed for the gentleness of her disposition,
was wholly unnecessary ; " for what
need," says the quaint Fuller, " of iron
instruments to bow wax?" The first
care of her parents would doubtless be
to instruct her in those matters which
were deemed indispensable to a young
lady's education. She was taught mu-
sic, and not only played on several mu-
sical instruments, but accompanied them
with a voice exquisitely sweet ; her ex-
ecution in needle-work was beautiful ;
she was skilled in the art of making
confectionary, then an important part of
lady-like duty ; nor was she deficient in
a knowledge of surgery and medicine,
for the practice of which arts those bois-
terous times furnished frequent occa-
sion. At a period a little earlier than
this, with a knowledge of these things,
a young lady's education would have
been deemed complete ; for reading and
writing were thought to be dangerous
accomplishments, any further than to be
able to spell out the Missal. But the
reformation in religion had excited a de-
sire for general knowledge, as well as a
spirit of inquiry into religious matters ;
learning, as well with women as with
men, became the fashion ; " a grete num-
ber of noble women," we are told by a
contemporary writer, " were given to the
studie of human sciences, and of strange

LADY JANE GREY.

tongues, and it was a common thinge to
see young virgins so nouzled and trained
in the study of letters, that they willing-
ly set all other vain pastymes at naught
for learnynge's sake."

The early promise which lady Jane
gave of genius and excellence, induced
her parents to bestow even more than
ordinary pains in the cultivation of her
intellect. The most learned men of the
day were chosen to be her preceptors,
and under their instruction, she, at a
very early age, became well skilled in
the Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Chaldaic,
Arabic, French, and Italian languages,
as well as in her own tongue.

The severity of her parents proved of
ultimate benefit to Lady Jane, in a man-
ner which she shall herself relate. The
celebrated scholar, Roger Ascham, being
about to leave England on a diplomatic
mission to Germany, went to take leave
of the family at Bradgate, who had been
his early patrons. He tells us that on
his arrival there, he found that the duke
and duchess, with all the ladies and gen-
tlemen of their household, were hunting
in the park ; but that the Lady Jane was
in her chamber. Requesting permission
to pay his respects to her, to whom he
states himself to have been much be-
holden, he was admitted. He found her
reading the Phaedon of Plato, in Greek,
with as much delight as some gentlemen
of that day would have read a merry tale
of Boccacio. Having made every re-
spectful inquiry, according to the custom
of the times, he asked the youthful stu-
dent why she would lose such pastime,
as was going on in the park ? She re-
plied, " I wisse all their sport in the park
is but a shadow to that pleasure I find in

Plato. Alas, good folk ! they never felt
what true pleasure means." Ascham
then asked, " How came you, madam,
to this deep knowledge of pleasure ? and
what did chiefly allure you unto it, see-
ing not many women, but very few men
have attained thereunto ? " "I will tell
you," replied Lady Jane, " and tell you a
truth, which, perchance, you will marvel
at. One of the greatest benefits that
ever God gave me, is, that he sent me so
sharp and severe parents, and so gentle
a schoolmaster ; for, when I am in pres-
ence either of father or mother, whether
I speak, keep silence, sit, stand or go,
eat, drink, be merry, or sad, be sewing,
playing, dancing, or doing anything else,
I must do it, as it were, even so perfect-
ly as God made the world, or else I am
sharply taunted, so cruelly threatened,
yea, presently sometimes with pinches,
nibs and bobs, and other ways, (which I
will not name, for the honor I bear
them,) so without measure disordered,
that I long for the time that I must go to
Mr. Aylmer, who teacheth me so gently,
so pleasantly, with such fair allurements
to learning, that I think all the time no-
thing whiles I am with him ; and when
I am called from him, I fall on weeping,
because whatsoever I do else but learn-
ing, is full of great trouble, fear, and whole
misliking to me ; and thus my book
bringeth daily to me more pleasure and
more." This interview made a lasting
impression on Ascham, and we find him
referring to it in a letter which he ad-
dressed to her from Germany. " I have
travelled far ; I have visited the greatest
cities, and have made the most diligent
observations upon the manners of na-
tions, their institutions, laws, religion,

LADY JANE GREY.

and regulations ; but I have found noth-
ing that has raised in me greater admi-
ration than what I found in regard to
yourself last summer ; to see one so
young and lovely, in the noble hall of
her family, at the very moment when all
her friends were enjoying the field-
sports ; to find, I repeat, so divine a maid
diligently perusing the divine Phaedon
of Plato ; in this more happy, it may be
believed, than in her noble and royal
lineage."

In addition to her own personal claims,
there existed on the part of the reformed
clergy a new source of interest. Rumor
said that she was the destined wife of
the young monarch, Edward VI., and as
such they looked upon her as the future
supporter of the true interests of Chris-
tianity. Perhaps, had the youthful par-
ties been allowed to follow their own in-
clination, the union might have taken
place ; they were playmates in their in-
fancy, and there was a great sympathy
of tastes, as well as similarity of temper.
But the choice of each must be controlled
and made subservient to the purposes of
ambition. Before Lady Jane was eleven
years old, the possession of her hand in
marriage became the object of political
intrigue. Somerset, the Protector, sought
it for his son, hoping, also, to bring
about the marriage of the young king
with his own daughter. But these
schemes, by which he trusted to secure
the permanence of his power, proved the
cause of his downfall. His brother, Lord
Sudley, was equally ambitious, and
more artful ; and finding that Somerset's
plans could not otherwise be counteract-
ed, he became the chief agent in pro-
curing his death. Sudley 's triumph was

short ; he himself fell before more suc-
cessful rivals, Northumberland and Suf-
folk, who soon attained to a degree of
power, which left nothing to be desired
but to give it permanency.

The health of the king was manifestly
failing, and his death would be their de-
struction ; for zealous protestants such as
they, had nothing to hope from a Roman
Catholic sovereign. The order of suc-
cession then, as limited by Henry VIIL,
must be changed. This was a bold
measure, but it might be successful;
Mary and Elizabeth had both been de-
clared illegitimate by act of parliament,
at Henry's own suggestion ; it was but
to procure a confirmation of this, and
Lady Jane Grey stood next to the throne.

To cement the union between these
ambitious nobles, a marriage was ar-
ranged between the Lady Jane and Lord
Guilford Dudley, son of the Duke of
Northumberland. There was short time
for courtship, and the practice of those
acts of gallantry which the fashion of
the day required. No sweet madrigal
softened the way to the lady's heart;
nor had the appointed bridegroom much
time for the display, on his breast or in
his hat, of the little gold-embroidered
and edged handkerchief, with the tassels
at each corner and in the middle, which
enamored damsels were wont to present
to their favorites. The marriage fol-
lowed close upon the agreement ; the
king, to show the pleasure which it gave
him, was bountiful in his gifts. But
even in this his natural love of economy
was gratified; for the forfeiture of the
effects of the duke and duchess of Som-
erset had placed at his disposal much
rich apparel, not much the worse for

LADY JANE GREY.

wear, wmr'h tie now "bestowed on the
bndai party.

Tnough tne mdtcA was one of ambi-
tion on the part 01 the parents, it was
well calculated to secure the happiness
of the parties, for the Lord Guilford Dud-
ley would seem to have possessed every
quality fitted to win a lady's heart, and
to keep it. Besides tne approval of the
king, it met with that of the court and
of the public, who, as the bridal proces-
sion passed along, were loud in testify-
ing their admiration of the beauty and
innocence of the youthful bridegroom
and his lovely bride.

The pomp and splendor which attend-
ed these nuptials, formed the last beam
of joy that shone in the palace of Ed-
ward, who grew so weak a few days af-
terwards, that Northumberland thought
it time to carry his project into execu-
tion. How he effected his purpose can-
not be better stated than in the language
of Fuller. " King Edward, tender in
years and weak with sickness, was so
practised upon by the importunity of oth-
ers, that, excluding his two sisters, he con-
veyed the crown to the Ladie Jane, his
kinswoman, by that which we may well
call the testament of King Edward, and
the will of the Duke of Northumberland.
Thus, through the pious intents of this
prince, wishing well to the Reformation ;
the religion of Mary obnoxious to excep-
tion; the ambition of Northumberland,
who would do what he listed ; the sim-
plicity of Suffolk, who would be done
with as the other pleased ; the dutiful-
ness of the Lady Jane, disposed by her
parents ; the fearfulness of the judges,
not daring to oppose; and the flattery
of courtiers most willing to comply, mat-

ters were made as sure, as man's poli-
cy can make that good which is bad in

itself."

(To be continued.)

THE BAMBOO. This is an eastern
production, of various and most impor-
tant uses. It grows from fifteen to sixty
feet high, being from five to fifteen inches
in diameter. It grows as much as twen-
ty feet in a few weeks. It flourishes
wild in many places, but it is cultivated
with great care in China and other
places. The soft shoots are cut and
eaten like asparagus, and sometimes
salted and eaten with rice. The hollow
joints afford a liquid, and if not drawn
off, a concrete, medical substance, Its
seeds are eaten as a delicacy ; its large
joints are used as buckets ; and, in many
countries, no other wood is used for
building. Ships are framed out of it,
and it furnishes masts and yards. Its
leaves make fans. It is also used to
make bows, and to convey water to a
distance. It also forms writing-pens,
and is woven into baskets, cages, hats,
&c. Bruised into a palp, it makes fine
paper, and is also used for many kinds
of furniture.

PRACTICAL ADVANTAGE OF SCIENCE.
The following illustration of the utility
of science, in the common occurrences of
life, is from the G^nessee Farmer : " A
penknife was by accident dropped into a
well twenty feet deep. A sunbeam, from
a mirror, was directed to the bottom,
which rendered the knife visible, and a
magnet, fastened to a pole, brought it up
again."

GRANDMOTHER'S SCHOLAR.

Grandmother.
COME hither, my poor orphan boy !

Come to your granny's knee ;
'T is time that you should learn to read,

And tell your A, B, C.
It is not fit that all the day
Should pass in idleness away.

Bay.
Oh, grandmother ! the sun shines bright,

The bird sings in the tree,
The bees are out they never go

To say their A, B, C.
I wish I were a bird to play
Among the leaves, and sing all day.

Grandmother.
My foolish child ! the sun shines bright,

To ripen corn and fruit ;
The bird has fled full many a mile,

Upon her fond pursuit ;
And, for the little bees, there 's not
A flower in their search forgot.

Boy.
But, grandmother, they do not learn

In little books to read,
They tell no crooked letters' names,

And they 're well off, indeed.
I too would fly about all day,
And glad, so I might be as gay.

Grandmother.
Poor boy ! they cannot think or speak,

But what they have been taught,
With industry and studious care

They practise as they ought ;
Do you remember, last July,
The nest in the hawthorn hard by?

Boy.
Yes, grandmother, so soft and warm,

All twigs and moss without,
With quilted wool and slender straws

Plaited and twined about,
And then inside so smoothly spread,
Oh, 't was a tempting little bed.

Grandmother.

Aye, child, and all that moss and down
Was brought by many a wing,

Twigs from the distant upland wood,

Moss from beside the spring ;
Remember, time, and pains, and care,
Brought all those things together there.

For do you think that in the tree

Itself the nest would grow,
So firmly built, and nicely wove,

And lined ? Oh, granny, no ! "
Then think, how every bird that flies
Must labor ere his roof can rise.

But, grandmother the humming bees,

Well on a summer's day,
What can you see, from morn to eve,

So busy as are they ?
Into each flower their trunks they dive,
And laden cluster round the hive.

Grandmother.
Learning A B is not so hard

As flying all the day ;
And to a bee's industrious life

Your book is only play ;
Beside, God gave you speech and thought,
To be improved, and ruled, and taught.

Boy.
Ah, granny, this is very true,

But I should like to know,
If it is good to speak and think,

Why don't the birds do so ?
And why did God make them to fly,
And us to walk through wet and dry ?

Grandmother.
My child, why did he make the sun

Above our heads to glow ?
Why did he bend upon the cloud

His bright and glorious bow ?
Why did he make the thunder sound,
And draw the solemn night around ?

Why, but because he saw 'twas best?

He gave to flower and tree
The power to blossom, bud, and fruit,

And for man's good to be.
But man, he made to praise him still,
And humbly do his Maker's will.

And we do not his laws obey
In wasting time that flies,

OUR CORRESPONDENCE.

Or being idle all day long

Instead of being wise.
Then come, my child, begin, and we
Shall soon outgrow our ABC.

Our Correspondence,

THANKS, gentle friends, for your many favors
but you must not expect me to insert them
all here. I read them with great satisfaction,
and even when you find a little fault, I am not
the less pleased particularly if you tell me
how to do better. But as to printing all your
epistles, you must consider that I have Bill
Heeler's stories to put in, and the Old Man's in
the Corner, and a great many other things. I
have, indeed, so many matters crowding into
my columns, that I am this month obliged to
leave out Dick Boldhero altogether ! However,
I find that our subscribers like Our Correspond-
ence very well, and therefore I shall put in as
much of it as my space will allow.

I am much obliged to A R , who

sends me the following

PUZZLE.

I am composed of seven letters.

My 3, 2, 4, is what boatmen do.

My 5, 3, 2, 1, is the most useful of all metals.

My 5, 1, 6, 7, is the smallest division of long
measure.

My 6, 7, 5, 1, is a part of the face.

My 1, 2, 4, is the best time to do what is
necessary to be done.

My 4, 5, 1, is what those who try for rewards
of merit like to do.

My 3, 5, 6, 7, is what many people like to be.

And my whole is a town in Connecticut.

The following is very acceptable.

Syracuse, July 7, 1844.

MR. MERRY, I hope you will be willing to
have a letter from me, as I am going to tell
about the salt works of this place.

Syracuse is a large town, with about 8000
inhabitants. A mile from us, is Salina, a vil-
lage in which are many salt springs. The
water is pumped out and conducted by canals
to Syracuse, where salt is made from it. The

water is stronger than sea water, and yields a
great deal more salt.

The salt is made by vats, which expose the
water to the sun and evaporate it, or by boiling
it. Both methods are adopted. There are a
great many of these establishments, and it is
supposed that this year they will all make four
millions of bushels.

One establishment puts up 1200 bags of 28
pounds each, a day. They require about 1200
yards of cotton cloth, every day, for the bags.
You would be very much interested to go into
this establishment. There is a long flue, more
than seventy feet long, which runs under a
great many kettles, in which the water is con-
stantly boiling. The salt is here formed in
crystals, white as snow. It is taken out and
put in a bin, where it looks like a great long
snow-drift.

It is taken from this place, and put in a trough
thirty feet long and ten wide, with tire beneath ;
a sort of harrow is made to work back and for-
ward in this, thus stirring the salt. It is then
ground, and carried by machinery to a place
where it is put in bags.

It is really a curious place, and if you were
there, you would think salt as plenty as snow
in winter at Boston.

The salt made at Syracuse is very much
liked ; some of it is fine and nice for the table.
Some is put up in small, neat boxes and sent
all over the country.

When you were here the other day, I got a
peep at a man they told me was you ; but as
he hadn't a wooden leg, I have some doubts
whether it was really you. Perhaps your leg
has grown on again, or you have had one put
in as good as new for it is said the Yankees,
down east, are very clever at domestic manufac-
tures.

Now, Mr. Merry, if you don't put this into
your Magazine, I hope you will at least say
that you have received it. I like the Magazine
pretty well, but I did n't understand what that
picture of the big, jumping bull meant at the
beginning of the April number. Perhaps you
can tell me. Yours,

[HT 3 We are obliged to confess that our friend
here has given us a good hint ; the animal he
mentions was meant for Taurus, the Bull,
which is the zodiacal sign for April.

Detroit, May 30, 1844.

MR. MERRY, Will you allow me to tell you
that I like your Magazine pretty well indeed,
I may say, very well but it does not come

<54

THE SNOW-DROP.

regular. I go to the post-office a great many
times, when it should come, but I am obliged to
go away without it. You know " hope deferred
makes the heart sick." So I am often disap-
pointed. "Will you do better in this, good Mr.
Merry ? and as you tell us many wise things,

will you set us an example of punctuality, and
oblige your friend,

-LM-

-LL.

[?= Thanks to S-
publishers about this.

I will talk with the

The Snowdrop,

MUSIC COMPOSED FOR MERRY'S MUSEUM, BY QEO. J. WEBB.

For one or two voices.

-8-a| -g-R 3 q-'-=g-p ^^ *-f^ - -% j-j

Now the spring is com - ing on, Now the ice and snow are

-=^1 * * 't*-*-*-*

?E!?E^Ej

gone, Come, my lit - tie snow-drop root, Will you not be - gin to

, Lt^_| L* i I I *-lJ ^ I ^ L_^J BJU

shoot? Come, my lit tie snow-drop root, Will you not be -gin to shoot?

=t=:

W-.SSJ-

Ah ! I see your little head
Peeping on the flower bed,
Looking all so green and gay
On this fine and pleasant day.

For the mild south wind doth blow,
And hath melted all the snow j

And the sun shines out so warm,
You need not fear another storm

So your pretty flowers show,
And your petals white undo ,
Then you '11 hang your modest head
Down upon my flower bed.

MERRY'S MUSEUM,

Vol. VIII.

SEPTEMBER, 1844.

No. 3.

SEPTEMBER has come, and it would
seem by the picture, that peaches
have come with it. This is indeed a
fine season for our little friends who
are fond of fruit, such as peaches, pears,
and plums. Who is there, indeed, that
does not like these nice things? But
beware, boys and girls ; do not indulge
in them to excess. Even the best things
in this world may be converted into evils
by abuse. Even peaches, which are not
only delicious but very wholesome, may
still become the occasion of disease, if
taken in undue quantities.

VOL. VIII. 5

Thus you see that moderation is
required of us in the midst of our enjoy-
ments. But I do not intend now to
preach a sermon. It is September, one
of the pleasantest months of the year,
and I have a few pleasant words to say
about it. It is a season of delicious
fruits ; it is also a period when the exces-
sive heat of summer is succeeded by the
mild and gentle coolness of approaching
autumn. The landscape has lost some-
thing of its brilliant verdure. The fields
and forests are tinged with a sober
brown. The leaves of the maple, the

ALL HALLOW-E'EN.

ash, and the oak are exchanging their
green hue for brilliant dyes of red, pur-
ple, and yellow. Many of the birds are
gathering in flocks, and, with much noisy
chattering, are preparing to depart to
southern climes, where they may spend
the winter. The sparrow, the cat-bird,
the thrush, and the towee-bunting have
already withdrawn into the thickets.
The robin has left the orchard, and re-
tired to the forests, and the young crows,
trying to caw like their fathers and mo-
thers, are heard in the mountains.

Whoever will take a walk in the
woods will see a great many of that
splendid bird, which has so many names,
glancing from tree to tree, and seeming
to hold some very good-natured discourse
with his companions. This is the high-
hole, high pole, flecker, yellow jay, or
golden-winged wood-pecker, whichever
you choose to call him.

The gardener is now rooting up the
weeds, and the farmer is getting in his
second crop of hay, called rowen. The
markets are now full of melons, and
other fruits and vegetables, of many
kinds, potatoes, beets, carrots, cabbages,
and tomatoes. Surely, September is a
fine time.

All Hallow-e'en,

iMONG the inhabitants of Scotland, the
last day of October is calied All
Hallow-e'en, or Holy evening. The
people formerly had many supersti-
tions and some pleasant customs respect-
ing it. These still linger in the High-
lands ; and the following story, extracted
from an English book, will give some

account of the manner in which this
evening is still commemorated there.

There are few Highlanders in whom
the memory of Hallow-e'en does not
awaken some pleasing recollections of the
past, and with it are associated some of
their happiest days. I propose to explain
to my young friends some of the joyous
festivities of this season.

Among many families in the High-
lands, there were none I loved so well
as the Graemes of Glennburton. Four
merry girls and one quiet boy circled
their hearth on the last day of October,
the eventful Hallow-e'en. A crowd of
young visitors was also there. The
cheerful dance over, our dear and kind
friend, Mr Graeme, drank to many happy
Hallow-e'ens, in which we noisy young-
sters joined most heartily.

The nut basket now appeared. Nell
Graeme, the second daughter, a tall girl
of seventeen, singled out two nuts and
said, "Who shall I burn?" At once,
the whole group, who were quite pre-
pared, cried, " Geraldine and Lord Elva."
The two nuts were placed in one bright
spot in the fire ; they burnt for a time
most lovingly; but at last Geraldine
bounded out of the fire. Oh ! naughty
girl she had fairly quarrelled with him
whom her young companions had de-
clared to be her sweetheart.

Geraldine now sprang forward, and
revenged herself by burning the blush-
ing Nell with her coz. It was very
amusing to watch the countenance of
each damsel, as her name was given to
the nut, and coupled with another. One
girl blushed, a second laughed, a third
cast down her eyes, and so on. Tired
of this, they at length hurried to tea; and

ALL HALLOW-EE'N.

then came the real fun, as that noisy,
pretty black-eyed girl, Jessie Graeme,
declared.

Now, my young- friends, follow me to
Mrs. Graeme's kitchen; yes, to the
kitchen, clean, bright, and pure enough
for any one to enter; the floor well
scoured and sprinkled with sand; the
small copper saucepans and tin covers
hung round the walls, shining and bright
as burnished gold ; the mutton-hams and
other delicacies in such famous order
hanging overhead. It was the abode
of plenty and cleanliness ; so I thought,
as I entered it, and surveyed with delight
the preparations for the " company," as
Mary the cook said.

A huge tub full of crystal water was
in the middle of the floor, and a basket
of immense rosy-cheeked apples. The
company entered. Plump went three
dozen apples into the tub, with a splash-
ing that made the ladies retreat speedily.
Mr. Graeme put numerous shillings and
sixpences into the apples, and we all
ducked to fish them out. Happy those
who got an apple ; thrice happy those
who got money in their apples. Many
untoward accidents occurred ; Jane had
fastened her long curls with a comb, and
as she stooped and hunted down a roll-
ing apple, Jessie Graeme, lover of mis-
chief and fun, pulled out the comb;
down went the ringlets, to assist poor
Jane in her search after the apple.

Jessie laughed heartily, and in her
turn danced up to the tub. No sooner
had she bent over the water, than Hugh
slily pushed her in, and the ill-fated Jes-
sie fell plump into the water. Her
brother helped her out, and though
strongly tempted to cuff his cheeks for

his impudence, she was obliged to march
off and change her wet clothing. Tired
at length of this diversion, " snap dragon"
was called. " Hurrah for snap dragon ! "
cried Harriet Graeme.

A large flat dish, filled with whisky
and raisins, cleared from their stalks,
was laid upon the table ; gloves and mit-
tens were hastily torn off; pocket hand-
kerchiefs, scarfs, and other combustible
parts of the ladies' dresses were put out
of the way. There was a rush and a
crowd round the dish; Hugh held the
match to the spirits, and the blue flame
flickered, and the "mountain dew"
blazed gloriously. " Begin ! " shouted
Hugh.

Fifty hands were at once dipped into
the snap dragon, and drawn back, carry-
ing streams of the blue and liquid flame.
Another plunge ! fresh screams, and a
river of fire on the table ; the dish upset ;
Harriet's dress on fire ; Donald the gar-
dener's hair in a blaze. A hearth-rug
nearly smothered Harriet, and a bucket
of water cooled Donald completely.
There was a universal burst of laugh-
ter ; even Black Kitty, the cook maid, so
called, from her jet black hair, was heard
to giggle behind the scullery door ; and
Donald, now recovered from his singeing
and ducking, roared himself into convul-
sions in the back passage. They now
all began to count the raisins ; whoever
had the largest odd number was the
lucky one. Merry Jessie was the lucky
one.

The happy party now retired to the
drawing-room, saying, that of all games,
snap dragon was the most amusing.
Up stairs, they found a blazing fire, and
supper laid on the table. In the centre

ALL HALLOW-E'EN.

of it stood, most conspicuously, the Hal-
low-e'en cake, so delicately iced over
and ornamented with a wreath and
bunch of the last roses. This cake con-
tained a ring, for marriage ; a sixpence
for wealth; and a thimble, for an old
maid. The cake was cut up by Hugh.
The youngest of the party took the first
piece, and the gentle fairy, Minna Ers-
kine, found the ring. Jessie Graeme
darted forward, and seizing a bit of cake,
crumbled it to atoms, and found the six-
pence. Happy little pair, who, almost
screaming with joy, fairly hugged each
other with delight.

Dear mamma was declared a con-
firmed old maid by finding the thimble.
The laughter of the young ones at this
knew no bounds; but they were soon
brought to order by Mr. Graeme, remind-
ing them that it was within a quarter of
an hour of midnight, and that " good
nights " must be exchanged. The young
ones quickly though reluctantly took the
hint, and after affectionate kissings and
greetings, from our papas and mammas,
we all marched off, once more to talk of
the events of the evening, and to antici-
pate and prepare for fresh sports and
merriment.

BONAPARTE'S WIT. SOON after Na-
poleon had attained the rank of captain,
a soldier one day approached him, and
showed him his coat which was in rags,
at the same time demanding another in
a dissatisfied tone. " A new coat ? " re-
plied the young officer ; " you do not call
to mind that your honorable scars would
no longer be visible." This well-timed
compliment entirely satisfied the poor
soldier.

After Napoleon became emperor, dur-
ing a parade, a young officer stepped out
of the ranks, in extreme agitation, to com-
plain that he had been ill-used, slighted,
and passed over, and that he had been
five years a lieutenant, without being
able to obtain promotion. " Calm your-
self," said the emperor ; " I was seven
years a lieutenant, and yet you see that
a man may push himself forward for all
that." Everybody laughed, and the
young officer, suddenly cooled by these
words, returned to his place.

THE following description of the gar-
dens at the Tusculan villa, Belvidere, in
Italy, is given by a traveller. " Behind
the palace," says he, " an aquatic stream
dashes precipitately down a succession
of terraces, and is tormented below, into
a variety of tricks. The whole court
seems alive at the turning of the cock.
Water attacks you on every side ; it is
squirted in your face from invisible
holes; it darts up in a constellation of
jets d'eau ; it returns in misty showers,
which present against the sun a beauti-
ful iris. Water is made to blow the
trumpet of a centaur and the pipe of a
cyclops ; water plays two organs ; makes
the birds warble and the muses tune their
reeds ; it sets Pegasus neighing, and all
Parnassus on music. I mention this
magnificent touch as a specimen of Ital-
ian hydraulics. Its sole object is to sur-
prise strangers."

AT Thebes, the coffins of mummies
are burnt for fire-wood, and the ruins of
limestone are burned for lime.

BILL AND THE BOYS.

The stranger carrying off Katrina.

Bill and the Boys,

The story of Dirk Heldriver, continued.

IN a preceding number we have given
an account of the manner in which
Katrina was taken from her mother
and borne away into the woods. We
must now continue the story, as it was
related by Bill to his companions.

Nothing could exceed the state of ex-
citement produced upon M. Hielder by
the news of the carrying off of his daugh-
ter ; for a few moments, he seemed to be
in a frenzy of rage, muttered the name
of Hieldover between his teeth, clenched
his fist, and uttered the most terrific im-
precations. But in a short time, he con-
quered his passion, and, ordering six
men to attend him, they all set out in

pursuit of the offender. They had
learned as well as they could from Mad-
am Hielder the direction which the rob-
ber had taken, which appeared to be
towards the mountains. They soon
found the traces of footsteps which led
along the bank of a small river that
swept down from the heights. They
followed these for about two miles, when
the ground became rocky and broken,
and they could no longer trace them. It
seemed certain, however, that the stran-
ger had ascended the mountain, direct-
ing his course to a deep and wild dell
that lay between two rugged cliffs, that
seemed to rear their naked heads to the
clouds.

The party drew themselves out in a

BILL AND THE BOYS.

lengthened line, and proceeded to search
the tangled valley that lay before them.
The impatience of Hielder led him in
front of the pursuers, and the excited
state of his feelings made him almost
forget his attendants. It was not long
before he saw, or thought he saw, the
object of his pursuit. He rushed for-
ward, urging his way between the
branches of the trees and the thick mass
of underwood, regardless of the obstacles
that lay in his path, his garments torn,
and his hair streaming in the wind. He
was soon separated from his compan-
ions, and entirely forgetting them, urged
his way through the wilderness.

Again he fancied that he saw the fig-
ure of a man, at a considerable distance,
bearing a child in his arms. He seemed
to be straining up the sides of the moun-
tains, and at a considerable distance.
Hielder redoubled his efforts, and in his
agony of mind, shouted aloud, filling the
hollow of the mountain with his cries.
For a long time he continued his pur-
suit, occasionally catching glimpses of
the flying robber and his daughter, or ob-
jects that seemed to be such. At length
he came to an open space, and on a rocky
eminence before him, he imagined that
he saw the form of Hieldover, holding
out his child in triumphant mockery.
Hielder was armed with pistols, and,
snatching one of these from his belt, he
aimed it at the form of Hieldover, and
fired. This was instantly followed by a
scream, which seemed to be that of the
child. Smitten with horror at the idea
that he had killed his daughter, the fa-
ther sank down on the ground in a state
of insensibility.

It was now evening, and M. Hielder,

as we have stated, had been for a con-
siderable time separated from his attend-
ants. They had discovered his absence
from their line, and for some hours had
been in search of him. One of them
heard the report of the pistol, and direct-
ed his steps towards the spot from which
the sound seemed to proceed. In the
darkness, however, he passed the body
of his master, and continued to push for-
ward. The pursuit was continued till
morning, when the party collected to-
gether by means of signals, and began
to deliberate upon what was to be done.

While they were thus occupied, they
saw M. Hielder approaching. They
were all struck with amazement at his
strange appearance. His clothes were
torn in fragments ; his hat was gone, and
there were traces of blood upon his face.
His countenance was pale as ashes, and
his eye had the startled and wild expres-
sion which belongs to a madman. He
said not a word, and when the men ad-
dressed him he gave no answer. After
a little deliberation, they concluded to
return, and two of them, taking their
master by the arms, led him homeward.
He made no resistance, arid, in the course
of a few hours, they reached the house.

M. Hielder continued in a state of
derangement for nearly two weeks. He
was not violent, but his mind seemed con-
stantly occupied with the vision of some
object before him, which he earnestly
sought to reach. Sometimes in his eager-
ness, he would spring out of his bed, and
endeavor to pursue the phantom, which
fled before him and eluded his grasp.
At others, he would beckon to it, and
again reach out his arms, beseeching it
to come to him. He often uttered the

BILL AND THE BOYS.

name of Hieldover, and would frequent-
ly say, " Give me back my child ; give
me my daughter, and I will restore all.
Be satisfied, Hieldover, with your re-
venge. Take the money, but give me
my child. Is there such cruelty in the
heart of man ? will you wring the heart
that is broken? will you grind in the
dust the form that crouches at your foot ?
Do as you please kill me, if you will,
but restore to me once more my child."

The wife of the poor man was unceas-
ing in her attentions. Day and night
she was at his bedside, seeking to allay
the fever of his mind, and administering
to him such medicines as the physician
prescribed. Nor were these kind and
skilful ministrations without their due
effect. By degrees the symptoms of the
patient became alleviated, and, in the
space of a few weeks, his reason seemed
to be restored. Yet his form was wasted
almost to a shadow, and his mind seemed
to participate in the exhausted condition
of his body. He however gradually
rose from this state of depression, and at
last seemed once more in the possession
of health and vigor.

His countenance, however, was great-
ly changed. The stern, dark, moody
expression which formerly brooded over
his countenance, had given place to set-
tled melancholy, tinged with a some-
what startled aspect. His firm nerves,
too, had become shaken, and the sudden
rustling of the wind, or the sound of an
unwonted footstep, made him tremble
from head to foot. There was still a
haughty feeling in him, which taught
him to conquer these humiliating symp-
toms ; but in the struggle between pride
and weakness, an effort often took place,

which was manifested by the large cold
drops standing upon his forehead.

The early history of M. Hielder was
unknown to the people around him.
They were ignorant of the visit paid
him by the stranger, who called himself
Hieldover, and which we have already
described. They were at a loss, there-
fore, to account for the events which had
recently transpired. Who could have
carried off the child? What motive
could any one have for such an act?
Why was the master of the house
wrought up into such a frenzy ? Why
was he cheated with illusions, and final-
ly driven to a state of madness in the
mountains ? These were the questions
discussed by the gossips around the
house ; and as no better answer to these
inquiries could be found, they were all
resolved by the conclusion that the dark
and mysterious being who carried off the
girl, was the devil himself.

I am sorry to have anything to say
about this personage ; but a century ago,
when these things happened, it was very
much the fashion to lay everything to
him which could not be otherwise ex-
plained. Of course, whoever undertakes
to tell a story of that day, is likely to
have something to say about him. We
need only add, that we shall have as lit-
tle as possible to do with him on this, as
on every other occasion.

The suggestion having been once
made that the scenes we have described
were the work of a being of the other
world, it soon grew into the established
opinion of the people attached to Hiel-
der house. Nor were confirmations of
this wanting. Several of the servants
declared that they had seen, in the even-

BILL AND THE BOYS.

ing twilight, a dark figure, with a slouched
hat and wrapped in a cloak, moving mys-
teriously along the avenues around the
house. Others insisted that they had
seen a strange light dancing in the hol-
low of the mountain, where M. Hielder
had met the strange apparition.

These tales soon reached the ears of
their master, and he readily concluded
that they might be founded in truth.
He determined, therefore, to investigate
the subject for himself. In the course
of a few evenings, he saw a dusky figure
standing in the shadow of the trees at no
great distance from the house. He ap-
proached it, but it glided from him, and
was soon lost in the depths of the forest.
He, however, pursued the retreating
spectre. He soon saw it again, and it
seemed now to pause. He approached
it, and could distinctly recognize the tall
and majestic figure of Hieldover. At
this moment, the latter spoke " Ap-
proach me not, as you value your life ;
but if you wish to know the fate of your
child, visit me to-morrow at this hour.
You will find me at home in the moun-
tains." Saying this, the form departed,
and was immediately buried in the mazes
of the wood.

M. Hielder was thrilled with a kind
of horror, but he determined to accept the
fearful invitation. At the appointed time,
he left the house alone, and set out for
the mountains. It was now autumn,
and the leaves were beginning to fall
from the trees. The night was gloomy,
and the wind swept in hollow gusts
through the forest. The tops of the
trees waved with an uneasy and troubled
motion in the gale. There was no hu-
man voice to disturb the night, but many

strange and ominous sounds came upon
the ear of the adventurer, as he now be-
gan to ascend the shaggy sides of the
highlands. The creaking of the trees,
whose branches rubbed against each
other, the shrill wailing of the owl, and
the continued roar of the wind, served to
increase his excitement, though not in
any degree to shake his purpose.

Resolutely striding on through the
mass of crumpled leaves that covered
the ground, he reached, at last, a posi-
tion that commanded a view of the spot
where he had seen his child in the arms
of Hieldover. This consisted of a mound
of rocks, which rose in the form of a
pyramid in the centre of a valley, scooped
out of the side of a mountain. The
whole scene was covered with trees, ex-
cept a small space which encircled the
mound. This consisted of a grassy belt,
through which a small stream passed on
either side of the pyramidal rock.

M. Hielder paused a moment to con-
sider what course he should take, when
a small flame gleamed upward from the
very point where Hieldover was standing
with his child, when he discharged the
pistol, as we have related. Receiving
this as a signal, he plunged down into
the valley, crossed the stream, and, with
an almost frenzied energy, began to
climb the rocky mound. Seizing upon
the branches of trees and shrubs, he
clambered upward, and soon attained
the point from which the light was still
gleaming.

(To be continued.)

" I won't be trod upon with impunity,"
as the steel-trap said to the fox.

JOHN HOWARD.

John Howard,

nrms eminent and laborious philanthro-
pist was born in 1727. His father
was a London tradesman, who, dying
- early, left him in possession of a
handsome fortune. Having always been
fond of travelling, he conceived a desire
to visit Lisbon immediately after the
great earthquake. He embarked accord-
ingly, but was captured by a French
privateer. To this accident the world is
probably indebted for the exertions made
afterwards by Howard for the relief of
prisoners. The sufferings which he en-

dured himself and witnessed in his
fellow-captives, made an ineffaceable im-
pression upon his mind.

This was strengthened by his being
made sheriff of Bedfordshire, when he
had charge of all the prisons in the
county. Shocked by the miseries and
abuses which he found prevailing in
these abodes of crime and misfortune,
he set himself diligently to work to in-
quire into the nature of the evil, and, if
possible, to find a remedy. During the
year 1773, he visited most of the county

JOHN HOWARD LOVEWELL'S WAR.

gaols in England, and having obtained
information on their management, he
laid the result of his inquiries before the
House of Commons. In 1774, two acts
were passed ; one for relieving acquitted
prisoners from the payment of fees ; the
other for preserving the health of the
prisoners.

Howard being once actively engaged,
became more and more devoted to his
benevolent pursuits. He travelled re-
peatedly over Great Britain, sometimes
even extending his journeys to the con-
tinent, visiting the most noisome places,
and relieving the wants of the most
wretched objects. In 1777, he published
a quarto volume containing details of
prisons in various places, and containing
a mass of information really astonishing,
when we consider that it was obtained
at the constant hazard of his life from
infection, and by untiring and unassisted
labor.

The importance, both in prisons and
hospitals, of preventing the spreading
of infectious diseases, produced in Mr.
Howard the desire to witness the success
of the Lazaretto system in the south of
Europe, more especially as a safeguard
against the plague. Danger or disgust
never turned him from his path, and on
this occasion he went without a servant,
not thinking it right, for convenience'
sake, to expose another person to such a
risk.

In 1785, he travelled through France,
Italy, and thence to Smyrna, where the
plague was raging, in order that he might
undergo the quarantine at Venice, to
which place he sailed. In 1787, this
devoted man returned home and pub-
lished the result of his foreign travels.

Two years after, he renewed his travels
on the continent, intending to go to
Turkey. He had, however, proceeded
no further than the Crimea, when a rapid
illness, which he believed to be an infec-
tious fever, caught in prescribing for a
lady, put an end to his life, January 20th,
1790. He was buried at Cherson, and
the utmost respect was paid to his mem-
ory by the Russian government.

Mr. Howard's character was pure and
simple ; without great talents, but accom-
plishing much by devoting his whole
energies to one good object. He was
abstemious in his habits, and capable of
going through great fatigue, spending
freely both his fortune and constitution
in the cause to which his life was devo-
ted. He was twice married, and lived
at Cardington, near Bedford. He had one
son, who unfortunately became insane.

Lovewell's War,

fHERE are few passages in history
more remarkable than that which is
known by the above title. It displays
the daring character of the settlers
of New England at the period, as well
as the ferocious and crafty spirit of the
savages. It is a bloody story; yet it
may be well to make our readers ac-
quainted it.

Before the subjugation of Canada by
the British, the New England settlements
were constantly exposed to the hostilities
of the eastern Indians, and a spirit of
jealousy and revenge was kept up, not
only between the different nations, but
also between individuals. The bound-
aries of the different territories being

LOVEWELL'S WAR.

loosely defined, left both sides exposed
to real or fancied encroachments ; so that
pretexts for war were always at hand.
The French Jesuits had planted them-
selves among the Indian tribes at an
early period; and at the beginning of
the eighteenth century, they had two
churches among the eastern Indians, the
one at Penobscot, and the other at Nor-
ridgewock, within the boundaries of the
present State of Maine.

At the latter resided the Jesuit Sebas-
tian Rasle, a man of talent, learning and
address, who, by accommodating himself
to the Indian mode of life, and maintain-
ing a gentle, condescending deportment,
had completely won the affection of the
savages, and his influence over them was
supreme. Knowing the power of super-
stition over their minds, he took ad-
vantage of this, and of their prejudice
against the English, to strengthen the
interest of the French among them. He
even made the offices of devotion serve
as incentives to their ferocity, and kept
a banner on which was depicted a cross
surrounded by bows and arrows, which
he was accustomed to hoist on a pole at
the door of his church, and gave the In-
dians absolution, previous to their setting
out on a warlike expedition.

The governor of Canada held a con-
stant correspondence with this Jesuit,
and received through his hands informa-
tion of anything that transpired among
the tribes in that quarter. From these
individuals, the savages received every
encouragement to assert their title to
lands occupied by the English, and to
molest the settlers, by killing their cattle,
burning their haystacks, and robbing and
insulting them. Many of the inhabitants,

alarmed by these demonstrations of hos-
tility, removed from the frontiers in
1720. The garrisons were reinforced,
and scouting parties were sent abroad,
which checked, for a time, the hostile
movements of the Indians, who were
compelled, the same year, to give hosta-
ges for their good behavior. This last
requisition was highly disrelished by the
governor of Canada, who renewed his
efforts to keep up the quarrel, and secret-
ly promised to supply the Indians with
arms and ammunition, although, as Great
Britain and France were not then at war,
he could not openly assist them. The
New England governments obtained in-
formation of these intrigues ; yet, though
highly incensed, they judged it best not
to rush into hostilities. The main dis-
pute lay between the Indians and the
proprietors of the eastern lands, and the
public were not directly concerned in it.
No blood had as yet been shed within
the limits of the English territory.

Rasle was considered to be the princi-
pal instigator of the Indians, and it was
thought that if he were removed, all
would be quiet. A proposal was made
to send the sheriff of York county with
a posse of a hundred and fifty men, to
seize him and bring him to Boston ; but
this bold stroke was not ventured upon.
In the summer of 1721, Rasle, in com-
pany with the Count de Castine from
Penobscot, and Croisil from Canada, ap-
peared at one of the English garrisons,
and presented a letter, written in the
name of the several Indian tribes, to
Governor Shute of Massachusetts, declar-
ing that " if the English did riot remove
in three weeks, they would kill them and
their cattle, and burn their houses." The

LOVEWELL'S WAR ECHOES.

lands in question were comprehended
within the limits of the English patents,
and the settlers were considered the only
legal proprietors. They had been accus-
tomed to obtain regular deeds of sale from
the Indians, and pay them a valuable
consideration; but some of these titles
were of obscure and uncertain original,
and the memory of such transactions is
soon lost among people who possess no
written records. The Indians easily for-
get the sales made by their ancestors, or
imagine that such bargains are not bind-
ing upon their posterity.

The Massachusetts government, on
receiving this menacing epistle, sent an
additional force to the Maine frontier, and
being desirous to avoid a rupture, invited
the Indians to a conference, from which
the French emissaries were to be exclu-
ded. This invitation was treated with
neglect; and in the succeeding winter,
a party under Colonel Westbrooke was
ordered to Norridgewock, to seize Rasle.
They reached the village undiscovered,
but before they could surround his house,
he had escaped into the woods, leaving
his papers in his strong box, which they
brought away without committing any
act of violence. Among these papers
were his letters of correspondence with
the governor of Canada, which afforded
positive proof that he was deeply engaged
in intrigues to incite the Indians to hos-
tilities. The savages were enraged at
this attempt to seize their spiritual father,
and resolved upon revenge. In the sum-
mer of 1722, they made a descent upon
the settlements at Merry Meeting Bay,
and captured nine families. Dismissing
some of the prisoners, they retained
enough to secure the redemption of their

hostages in the hands of the English, and
sent them off to Canada. Their next
attack was on the fort at St. George, on
the Ameriscoggin, where they were re-
pulsed with considerable loss. They
afterwards surprized some fishing vessels
in the eastern harbors; and at length
made a furious attack on the town of
Brunswick, which they destroyed. These
hostilities determined the government of
Massachusetts to issue a declaration of
war against them, which was published
in form at Boston and Portsmouth, on
the 25th of July, 1722.

(To be continued.)

Echoes,

CHOES reside, for the most part, in
ruined abbeys, in caverns, and in
grottoes; they reverberate among
mountains, whisper in the areas of
antique halls, in the windings of long
passages and in the melancholy aisles
of arched cathedrals. There is an. ancient
portico near the temple of Clymenos, in
the district of Cythonias, which repeats
every given sound three times.

At Woodstock there was one which
was said to have returned seventeen syl-
lables during the day, and twenty in the
night. In the sepulchre of Metella, the
wife of Sylla, an echo repeated five dif-
ferent times, in five different keys ; and
it is said that on the banks of a river,
near Coblentz, an echo recited seventeen
times. He who spoke or sung could
scarcely be heard, and yet the responses
were loud and distinct, clear and vari-
ous ; sometimes appearing to approach,
and at other times to come from a great

DICK BOLDHERO.

distance, much after the manner of an
JEolian harp.

In the cemetery of the Abercorn fami-
ly, at Paisley, in the county of Renfrew,
there is an echo exceedingly beautiful
and romantic. When the door of the
chapel is shut, the reverberations are
equal to the sound of thunder. Breathe
a single note in music, and the note
ascends gradually with a multitude of
echoes, till it dies in soft and most be-
witching murmurs. If the effect of one
instrument is delightful, that of several
in concert is captivating, exciting the
most tumultuous and rapturous sensa-
tions. In this chapel, lulled by ethereal
echoes, sleeps Margery, the daughter of
Bruce, the wife of Wallace and the
mother of Robert, king of Scotland.

A singular echo is heard in a grotto
near castle Comber, in Ireland. No rever-
beration is observed till the listener is
within fifteen or sixteen feet of the ex-
tremity of the grotto ; at which place a
most delightful echo enchants the ear.
Most travellers have heard of the eagle's
nest near Mucross Abbey, on the banks
of the lake of Killarney. This celebrated
rock sends forth the most fascinating
repercussion. Sound a French or bugle
horn, and echoes, equal to a hundred
instruments, answer to the call ! Report
a single cannon, and the loudest thunders
reverberate from the rock and die in end-
less peals along the distant mountains.

A nobleman's seat about two miles
from Milan produces such a surprising
echo as can scarcely be equalled in the
world. Mr. Addison observed that upon
firing a pistol, he heard the sound re-
turned fifty-six times, though the air was
then foggy, and consequently not proper

for making an experiment to advantage.
At first, the repetitions were very quick,
but the intervals were greater in propor-
tion as the sound decayed. This aston-
ishing echo was probably never designed
by the architect, but it is occasioned
by two parallel walls of a considerable
length, between which the sound is re-
verberated from one to the other till the
undulation is quite spent. Some persons
assert that the sound of one musical
instrument in this place resembles a
great number of instruments playing in
concert.

Dick Boldhero,

CHAPTER VII.

ALTHOUGH I was gradually recovering
from the state of extreme weakness
to which I had been reduced, still, I
continued so feeble as to render it
impossible for me to proceed on my jour-
ney. I continued therefore with my
kind friends at Maroontown, occasional-
ly taking a short walk about the place.
I soon became acquainted with a num-
ber of the people. I was very much
gratified by the good-natured manner in
which everybody treated me. The
houses were extremely slight, many of
them consisting only of sticks set in the
ground, the roof and sides being formed
of a thatch of palm leaves. Others were
a little more substantial, the walls being
framed of mud and stone. The place
hardly seemed like the abode of human
beings, and when I gazed upon it, I fan-
cied that it was only the village of some
ingenious animals, a little elevated in the
scale of being above the beavers.

DICK BOLDHERO.

But notwithstanding this rude aspect
of their dwellings, the people themselves
seemed the most light-hearted and mer-
ry set I ever beheld. Every night there
was music, and dancing, and laughter,
and frolic, and what seemed strange,
there was very little of riot or violence.
A good feeling seemed to pervade all
classes, and if they were poor, ignorant,
and in some respects degraded, they
seemed at least happy and kind-hearted.
There was very little government among
them, and though they had magistrates,
it was seldom necessary for these to
make any great show of authority.

While I was at this place, the old
woman, who spoke English, as I have
already mentioned, told me a good many
tales relating to the history of the place,
one of which I will give to my readers.

One of the earliest inhabitants of Ma-
roontown was King Congo. This per-
sonage was born on the African coast,
and was the eldest son of one of the
petty kings in that quarter. He was
captured by a party of slavers, brought
to Paramaribo, and offered for sale as a
slave. He was a good-looking fellow,
about twenty years of age, of great
strength and daring courage. He was
readily purchased by a merchant of the
city, and became a servant in his family.
Submitting to his fate, he performed the
duties required of him with a tolerable
grace, though occasionally the remem-
brance of his birth and former dignity
crossed his mind, and for a moment
caused his feelings to revolt from the
drudgery required of him.

It happened that one day, when he
was a little moody from reflections like
these, his master demanded of him some

service of more than ordinary servility.
Congo seemed to hesitate for a moment,
and stood looking his master in the face,
as if about to question his right thus to
command him. The latter, greatly in-
censed, struck the negro in the face.
Congo, surprised and irritated, seized his
master by the collar, and was about to
dash him to the floor, when suddenly
recollecting himself, he unclenched his
hand and said, sneeringly, " I scorn to
wrestle with one so much weaker than
myself; but I will not serve a man who
treats me with such indignity."

The rage of the master now knew no
bounds. He called aloud for his ser-
vants, and as about a dozen of them
rushed into the room, he commanded
them to seize the offender. But Congo
was now thoroughly roused. As the
men seemed about to seize him, he re-
treated to a corner of the room, seized a
chair, and, whirling it before him, defied
the whole party. These, knowing his
prodigious strength, and frightened by
his wild and threatening aspect, stood
aloof, afraid to grapple with such an en-
emy. In vain were the threats of the
master. Finding it impossible to urge
them on, he seized a pair of pistols, and,
taking deliberate aim, discharged them
both at the offender. One of the balls
missed ; the other entered the right arm
of Congo, and, shattering the bone, the
uplifted chair fell to the floor, and the
broken limb swung useless by his side.

Finding it in vain to resist farther, the
negro yielded, and being strongly bound,
was immediately taken to a public estab-
lishment, kept for the purpose, and re-
ceived a hundred lashes upon the naked
back. The poor fellow was now shut

DICK BOLDHERO.

up in a small room, almost without light
or air, it being the purpose of his master
to subdue him by privation and suffer-
ing. His arm was dressed, and care
was taken that he should not die, for
this would have been a serious loss to
the pocket of the proprietor.

At length, Congo recovered ; but his
strength was wasted, and he could only
totter about with great effort. He was
now released, and his master, not fearing
him in his present enfeebled condition,
took him once more into his house.
Here he was treated with the greatest
harshness. He was required to labor
beyond his strength, and when he was
tardy from exhaustion, he was buffeted
either with the hand or foot of his lordly
proprietor.

Congo submitted to all this with ap-
parent humility, but a feeling was burn-
ing within him which was destined ere
long to work out his deliverance.

In a few months his health and
strength were completely restored, and
though he continued to perform his du-
ties with alacrity, he was meditating
some plan by which he might escape
from his bondage. In this state of
things, it chanced that he was one day
passing by the public whipping-house,
when, hearing the lashes and screams
of the sufferer, he opened the door and
went in. He there saw a young wo-
man drawn upward by the wrists, so that
her feet were three or four inches from
the ground, while the executioner was
inflicting upon her back the number of
lashes commanded by her master.

For a moment the blood rushed to
Congo's brain, and a dizzy feeling came
over him ; but soon recovering, he rush-

ed up to the whipping-master, wrenched
the whip from his hand, threw him upon
the ground, and laid the weapon lustily
upon his back. He then cut the rope
which tied the hands of the suffering
girl, and rushed out of the place. Bewil-
dered with his own emotions, he walked
along the street, apparently unconscious
of his situation ; but a loud shout, and a
posse of people at his heels, roused him
from his re very. Congo turned round,
faced his pursuers sternly for a moment,
and then, with a swift foot, set out for
the country.

For two miles he ran like a deer, but
finding that he was pursued by men on
horseback, he leaped over the banks of
the river Surinam, and plunged into the
water. Several of the horsemen came
up and discharged their pistols at the
fugitive, but he was beyond their reach.
He swam across the river; but here a
new danger awaited him. An immense
alligator lay upon the bank, and, as he
approached, sprung upon him. Nothing
could have saved Congo at this moment
but his strength and courage. As he
was approaching the shore, he saw the
alligator, and, drawing his knife from
his belt, he faced the monster, and,
plunging his knife down his open jaws,
killed him in an instant.

Delivered from this peril, Congo turn-
ed round, shook his fist triumphantly to-
ward his pursuers who lined the oppo-
site bank of the river, and set forward
upon his journey toward the woody dis-
tricts that lay in the distance. These he
at last reached, and burying himself in
the recesses of the forest, he lived like a
wild animal upon the fruits that nature
afforded.

DICK BOLDHERO.

A party was soon made up and set
forth, for the purpose of capturing the
daring negro. They were provided
with guns, and attended by several
blood-hounds. The latter soon came
upon the track of the fugitive, and their
deep bellowing at once announced to
him his danger, and to the hunters that
the game was near at hand. Being
armed with a stout bludgeon, Congo de-
parted, and for nearly tAvo days the
hounds were unable to overtake him.
At last, finding himself excessively fa-
tigued, he paused and determined to
await the approach of the dogs, and give
them battle. They soon came up, and
the leader sprang upon him. With a
single whirl of his club, the negro laid
the animal prostrate upon the earth.

In an instant, however, three more
were before him, ready to bury their
fangs in his flesh ! With his uplifted
weapon, Congo looked the fierce animals
steadily in the eye. They paused for a
moment ; but, overcoming their fear, they
sprang upon him. Two of them were
soon stretched lifeless upon the ground,
but a third seized Congo by the leg, and
brought him to the earth. The animal
then sprang at his throat, but the nimble
knife of the negro despatched him in the
very act. Wounded and bloody, the
poor fellow arose and dragged himself
forward. He was soon too faint to pro-
ceed, and fell to the earth.

The hunters now came up, and seeing
that their dogs were killed, began to de-
liberate as to the course they should pur-
sue. Congo, sheltered in the bushes,
saw and heard all that passed. They
concluded that it was in vain to pursue
the fugitive farther, and resolving to rest

themselves for a while, determined then
to return. Taking off their knapsacks,
they laid them down with their guns,
and three of the party went in search of
water, leaving the fourth behind. This
individual sat down upon the ground,
and, leaning against a tree, was soon
asleep.

It may well be imagined that Congo
watched these proceedings with great
interest. Waiting till the three men
were out of view, he issued from his
hiding-place, and carefully crept forward,
toward the slumbering hunter. The
latter, however, was but partially asleep,
and awaked by the rustling of the leaves,
saw the negro creeping upon him.
Amazement paralyzed him for a mo-
ment, then springing to his feet, he
seized his gun and fired. The ball
missed, and, the instant after, he was
grappled in the arms of his formidable
enemy. After a momentary struggle,
they both fell, and Congo was upper-
most.

What was his surprise, in looking in
the face of his prisoner, to see his former
master. Congo dre\v his knife from his
belt; the blade glittered aloft, and was
already descending to inflict a fatal blow,
when his purpose changed, and he said,
" It was your intention to kill me, and
were I in your place I should not have a
moment to live. But I will not imitate
a white man." Saying this, he took the
straps of one of the knapsacks that lay
near him, and bound his prisoner firmly
on his back to the roots of a tree. Then
seizing the four muskets, the ammuni-
tion and the knapsacks, he said, with a
smile, to the prostrate gentleman, " Good-
bye, massa," and departed.

INQUISITIVE JACK.

The huntsmen soon returned and re-
leased their companion, but finding that
their guns were now in the hands of the
enemy, they thought it most prudent to
make a hasty retreat. While they re-
turned to Paramaribo, to be laughed at
for their defeat, Congo, well armed and
provisioned, secreted himself in the for-
est. He was now too formidable to be
pursued, and soon meeting some of his
countrymen, who, like himself, had be-

come inhabitants of the wilderness, they
repaired to the present site of Maroon-
town, and began to make a settlement.
Here they were speedily joined by other
fugitives, and the village, thus com-
menced, soon became a considerable
town. Congo received the title of king,
and for many years continued to exer-
cise authority over the settlement.

(To be continued.)

Inquisitive Jack,

CHAPTER VI.

T is time to fulfil our promise in re-
spect to Inquisitive Jack. We have
but two or three chapters more to
give, in respect to his life and adven-

tures, and here is one of them. We have
told how Jack had become acquainted
with insects, birds, quadrupeds, and
other living things. We have now to
give some account of the manner in
which he became interested in botany,

VOL. VIII.

INQUISITIVE JACK.

which means the science of plants, trees
and flowers. Of course, everybody is
fond of pretty flowers, roses, and lilacs,
and lilies, and peonies, and pinks, and
sweet peas, and other pretty blossoms.
And everybody must be interested in
trees, which furnish us with fruit, and
fuel, and shade ; and they must be in-
terested in shrubs, which yield us so
many berries. But there is something
more in the history of these things, than
what at first meets the eye ; and I am
now going to tell you something about
them.

Jack happened one day to go down
into the cellar, and he there saw a pota-
to which had been left upon the ground,
and which had now begun to put forth
several shoots. These were perfectly
white, and Jack asked himself why the
stalks of a potato in the cellar should be
white, while the stalks in the open air
were green. He watched the potato for
several days, and perceived that it was
growing quite rapidly. At length, one
thing greatly excited his curiosity. The
potato itself was lying behind a barrel,
and the stalk had grown around this,
and was now pointing its head upward
toward a low, narrow window, which
permitted a little light to enter the cel-
lar. The vine of the potato seemed to
be actually directing its course toward
this window, as if it really wanted to see
the light, and breathe the fresh air.

Greatly excited by these observations,
Jack continued to watch the potato from
day to day, at the same time musing with
himself as to what it could mean. " Has
this potato," said he, thoughtfully, " got
sense and feeling? does it feel itself to
be a prisoner, and want to go out to see

the light and breathe the air? Who
has taught this plant to bend its way
toward the light, and lift up its head
and point its leaves toward that which it
seems to require ? " Not being able to
satisfy these inquiries, the boy at last
went to his Aunt Betsey, and opened the
subject to her. This led to explanations,
the substance of which was as follows.

Plants or vegetables are organized
substances, which live and grow by the
aid of light, air, and moisture. They
need to be fed as much as animals, and
will as soon dfe without food, as an in-
sect, bird, or quadruped. Instead of
taking in their sustenance by means of
a mouth, they suck it up by means of
roots. These draw from the soil the
particular nutriment that is required in
the form of sap, and this is distributed
to the branches, and leaves of the plant.
Heat and moisture are necessary in or-
der to set the sap in motion. Air and
light are imbibed by the leaves of the
plants. The various colors of plants are
drawn from the rays of the sun.

All plants are propagated by seeds.
These, however minute, contain all the
members of the parent plant stalk, leaf
and flower. These are so nicely folded
up as not to be distinguished ; but when
the plant begins to grow, you can see,
with the microscope, the several parts
unfolding, one by one, until at last they
assume the form of the plant from which
they sprung. It is said that the acorn,
which is the seed of the oak, contains all
the members of the future tree.

Jack was exceedingly delighted with
these curious facts, and, according to his
custom, he pursued the investigation of
the subject by his own observations, by

INQUISITIVE JACK.

reading books, and by inquiries of his
intelligent and obliging aunt. In the
progress of his studies, he learned many
other curious facts, some of which we
must relate, for they are quite amusing.

Although plants have no sense or
thought, yet nature seems to have made
provision which supplies all their wants.
To prevent chestnuts and walnuts from
being devoured before they are ripe, the
former are covered with a prickly burr,
and the latter with an exceedingly bitter
rind. When these are ripe, the outer
coating bursts open, and- lets out the im-
prisoned fruit or seed. Similar contri-
vances are observed in respect to a mul-
titude of other plants.

Some seeds, as those of apples, peach-
es, plums, pears, cherries, currants, &c.,
are covered up in a fleshy or pulpy sub-
stance, which we call fruit. Here a
double purpose is answered. The seeds
are nicely taken care of, while mankind,
with many other creatures, are provided
with an ample store of delicious food.
But lest the seed should be destroyed
before it is brought to maturity, the fruit
is very sour or bitter, until the seeds are
quite ripe.

Thus we see that God, who has taken
such kind care of animals, by giving
them the power and skill to acquire their
food and perpetuate their existence, has
also taken care even of the life and pros-
perity of plants. As these depend en-
tirely upon seeds for their propagation,
he has provided that these seeds shall
be wrapped up, protected, and nursed,
almost as carefully as little children.
Nor is this all. We might suppose that
a seed would fall from the tree, and find-
ing no other soil than that beneath the

shadow of its parent, it would shoot up
and perish for the want of light, and
heat, and air. But as children are able
to go from the parent roof and fimfc
homes for themselves, so God has pro-
vided that seeds shall emigrate from
their homes, and, scattering themselves
abroad, cover the face of nature with di-
versified vegetation.

You will be curious to know how this
emigration of the seeds is brought about.
I will tell you. You have seen the this-
tle down, in the autumn, rise upon the
air and go sailing along to a great dis-
tance. That down has got a thistle-seed
attached to it, and it is carrying it along
to some place where it may rest, and be-
ing imbedded by the rain in the soil, it
will shoot up into a thistle. Thus you
see the little seed is supplied withprings,
upon which it flies away from home, and
sets up for itself. One thistle will throw
off many thousands of these downy seeds,
and thus the race is multiplied.

There are many other plan.ts that have
winged seeds, which are distributed in
the same way. Perhaps you think the
rough winds of autumn are unpleasant
and mischievous, but remember that
they shake myriads of seeds from the
plants and trees, and scatter them abroad
over the land. Nor is this the only way
in which seeds are disseminated. Birds
carry the stones of cherries, and the
seeds of various kinds of berries, from
the place where they are produced, to
other distant points.

Quadrupeds disperse the seeds of va-
rious grasses and grains, by carrying
them from one point to another. The
burdock and the cockle seeds attach
themselves to the woolly fleece of ani-

INQUISITIVE JACK.

mals, and are thus dispersed. Rains
carry seeds down the slopes of hills and
mountains, and rivers bear them from
one region to another.

Some seeds scatter themselves by
means of springs in their covering, fur-
nished by the plant itself. If you slight-
ly pinch the ripe seed-case of the pretty
flower of the gardens called the balsam,
it will burst asunder, and scatter the
seed in all directions. The pouch which
contains the seeds of the wood-sorrel,
also bursts and scatters them around
on all sides. The capsules of ferns
open with a spring. The seeds of some
species of this plant, when viewed
through a microscope, upon paper, seem
to be endowed with a kind of leaping
movement.

These and many other curious partic-
ulars Jack learned about plants ; but he
was not yet able to answer some of the
questions which had been suggested by
the potato in the cellar. How did this
plant know that it wanted light and air ?
and what made it bend round the barrel,
and move forward toward the window ?
Are plants endowed with feeling and
knowledge, which teaches them their
wants, and points out the means by
which these are to be satisfied ? These
inquiries were pursued, and Jack at last
became acquainted with what is thought
by learned men upon these interesting
topics.

Animals are endowed with what is
called instinct, which is inherent or im-
planted by God. The purpose of this is
to make them act in a manner to secure
food, to protect themselves from injury,
and in general to promote their happi-
ness. This instinct is sometimes dis-

tinct from intelligence, and sometimes
mixed with it. In its simplest form, it
seems to be as involuntary as the beat-
ing of the heart, or the circulation of the
blood. Thus a hen sits upon her eggs,
but the reason she does not know. She
is guided by some power as distinct
from her own knowledge, as is the beat-
ing of her heart.

Now, we know nothing of this instinct,
except that it is a principle implanted by
God to promote the benefit of the species
to which it belongs ; and that, at the
same time, it is totally different from
that intelligence which springs from
knowledge, and leads its possessor to
act in a particular manner, from its own
reflections. A species of instinct of a
lower grade is doubtless imparted to
plants. If seeds are cast into the soil in
the shade, as they require light, this in-
stinct impels them to creep, bend, and
rise, as the case may be, where it may
receive the light and air it requires.
Such was the conclusion to which our
young botanist arrived; and here we
must leave him for the present.

BONAPARTE'S WAYS. The great roads
constructed by Napoleon over the Alps,
are, that over Cenis, 30 miles long and
18 yards wide ; that over Semplon, 36
miles long and 25 yards broad ; one
partly through galleries hewn in the
rocks, 683 feet ; that over Genevre, 6,000
feet high; that from Nice to Monaco;
and that over St. Gothard, 8,264 feet
high. They are altogether the most
gigantic efforts of labor since the pyra-
mids of Egypt.

LADY JANE GREY.

Lady Jane Grey,

(Continued from page 61 .)

AFTER her marriage, Lady Jane led a
life of almost as great seclusion as
before ; she pursued her studies and
maintained a correspondence in Latin
with the most eminent reformers in Ger-
many. She took little heed of the ambi-
tious designs of her parents ; nay, it is
almost certain that she was purposely kept
in entire ignorance of them, and that the
first intimation which she had of her des-
tiny, was when the two dukes, attended
by other nobles, came to announce to her
the death of Edward, approaching her
with the respect and ceremony appropri-
ate to a sovereign. The intelligence
caused her both surprise and grief. She
refused to receive the crown, pleading
the superior right of her cousins Mary
and Elizabeth, and the little probability
that the people would recognize her
title. " But," she continued, " if fortune
would give me warranties of her favor
and her constancies, should I be well
advised to take upon me this crown of
thorns, which would not fail to torment
me, though I were assured not to be
strangled with it ? My liberty is better
than the chain you offer me, with what
precious stones soever it be adorned, or
of what gold soever framed. I will not
exchange my peace for honorable and
precious jealousies, for magnificent and
glorious fetters ; and if you love me in
earnest, you will rather wish me a
secure and quiet fortune, though mean,
than an exalted condition exposed to the
world, and followed by some dismal
fall."

But the nobles had proceeded too far

to be thwarted in their purpose by the
scruples or the disinclinations of a young
girl. Northumberland commanded and
threatened, Suffolk begged and entreated,
yet Lady Jane did not yield, notwith-
standing the habits of implicit obedience
in which she had been educated. A
new auxiliary was then brought into the
field ; Lord Guilford Dudley, dazzled by
the brilliant destiny which seemed to
await him, was induced to exert his in-
fluence; the wife could not withstand
his wishes, and surrendered her own
judgment to the will of her relations.

The sovereigns of England were wont
to pass the first days after their accession
at the Tower, in London ; and, in compli-
ance with this custom, Lady Jane pro-
ceeded thither, accompanied by a bril-
liant cavalcade of nobility, of both sexes.
The streets through which she passed
were crowded with people, but it was
from curiosity rather than satisfaction;
no acclamations of joy saluted her, an
omen which gave great encouragement
to the friends of Mary.

That princess, who was in the country
at the time of Edward's death, in the mean
time was not idle, nor content to yield her
birthright without a struggle. As soon
as she learned what was passing at Lon-
don, she summoned the nobles to attend
upon her, and wrote to the council, ex-
pressing her surprise, that she, the heir
to the throne, had yet received no official
notice of the death of the late sovereign.
Those members of this body, who, for
the most part, had yielded their assent
to the usurpation, through fear of North-
umberland, were now alarmed at the lit-
tle support which the act received from
the people, and were devising means to

LADY JANE GREY.

escape from the imprisonment, in which,
under the honorable name of attendance
upon Queen Jane, they were held in the
Tower. Their confinement was not of
long duration. On the llth of July,
1553, Jane removed to the Tower, and
caused proclamation to be made of her
accession, at the usual places in London;
the people listening to the herald in
silence. On the 19th of the same month,
proclamation was made, at the same
places, of the accession of Queen Mary;
but the attendant circumstances were far
different on the occasion; the civic
authorities of the city seemed to accept
Mary as queen, and with such applause
was she received by the people, that,
from the commencement, not a word
more could be heard for the general
acclamations. A contemporary letter-
writer says that " the like triumphe was
never seen. The number of capps that
were thrown up at the proclamation
weare not to be tould. The Earl of
Pembroke threwe awaye his cap full of
angels. The bonfires weare without
number ; and what with shoutynge and
criange off the people, and ringing of
belles, theare could no one man hear
almost what another sayd ; besides ban-
ketynge and skippinge the streete for

joy."

The news of what was passing in the
city produced a rapid change of policy in
the Tower. Many of the very counsel-
lors, who the day before had set their
hands to resolutions to stand by the Lady
Jane, hastened to be present at the
proclamation of Queen Mary, and de-
spatched messengers to that princess,
humbly soliciting her pardon for their
offences. Suffolk, as much dejected as

he had before been exalted, proceeded to
his daughter's apartments, ordered all
the ceremonials of royalty to cease, and
admonished her to bear, with what pa-
tience she could, a return to private life.
She was not at all discomposed; the
news, she said, was more welcome than
the summons which forced her against
her will to such an elevation. " In obe-
dience to you, my lord," continued she,
" and to my mother, I acted a violence on
myself, and have been guilty of a griev-
ous offence ; but the present is my own
act, and I willingly resign to correct
another's fault, if so great a fault can be
corrected by my resignation and sincere
acknowledgment." From this interview,
Suffolk proceeded to Tower Hill, where
he himself proclaimed Mary to be queen ;
and then going to the council, set his
name to an order to Northumberland,
who was in command of the troops
raised by his partisans, to lay down his
arms and submit. That nobleman, upon
receipt of the news, had retreated to Cam-
bridge, " with more sad thoughts within
him than soldiers about him." He there
proclaimed Queen Mary, " the beholders
whereof more believing the grief in his
eyes, when they let down tears, than the
joy professed by his hands, when he
threw up his cap."

One of the first acts of the new coun-
cil, was to issue an order for the separa-
tion of Lady Jane from her husband,
and the removal of both from the royal
apartments to those designed for prison-
ers of state. The execution of the order
was entrusted to Bishop Gardiner. We
have no historical record of the manner
in which he executed the task, which
his zeal for popery made a work of

LADY JANE GREY.

pleasure ; but we can readily believe that
Shakspere has truly delineated the scene.

Gardiner. Lieutenant of the Tower, take

hence your prisoners ;
Be it your care to see them kept apart ;
That they hold no commerce with each other.
Guilford. Wilt thou part us ?
Gard. I hold no speech with heretics and

traitors.
Lieutenant, see my orders are obeyed.

Guilf. Inhuman, monstrous, unexampled

cruelty !

tyrant ! but the task becomes thee well ;
Thy savage temper joys to do death's office,
To tear the sacred bonds of love asunder,
And part those hands which Heaven itself hath

joined.
Duchess. To let us waste the little rest of

life
Together, had been mercifu..

Guilf. (to Lady /.) Thou standest unmoved ;
Calm temper sits upon thy beauteous brow ;
Thy eyes, that flowed so fast for Edward's loss,
Gaze unconcerned upon the ruin round thee,
As if thou hadst resolved to brave thy fate
And triumph in the midst of desolation.
Lady Jane. And dost thou think, my Guil-
ford, I can see

My father, mother, and e'en thee, my husband,
Tom from my side, without a pang of sorrow ?
How art thou thus unknowing in my heart ?
"Words cannot tell thee what I feel ; there is
An agonizing softness busy here
That tugs the strings, that struggles to get

loose,

And pour my soul in wailings out before thee.
Guilf. Give way, and let the gushing torrent

come. * * *
Lady J. Guilford ! no.

The time for tender thoughts and soft endear-
ments

Is fled away and gone ; joy has forsaken us ;
Our hearts have now another part to play j
They must be steeled with some uncommon

fortitude,

That fearless we may tread the paths of hor-
rors,
And, in despite of fortune and our foes,

E'en in the hour of death be more than con-
querors.

Guilf. teach me ! say, what energy divine
Inspires thy softer sex and tender years
With such unshaken courage ?

Lady J. Truth and innocence j * * *

Lieut. My lords, my orders

Guilf. See ! we must must part !

Lady J. Yet surely we shall meet again.

Guilf. Fain would I cheer my heart with

hopes like these,

But my sad thoughts turn ever to the grave,
To that last dwelling whither now we haste.

Lady J. 'Tis true, by those dark paths our

journey leads,

And through the vale of death we pass to life ;
But what is there in death to blast our hopes ?
Behold the universal works of nature,
Where life still springs from death.
Mark with what hopes upon the furrowed plain
The careful ploughman casts the pregnant

grain;

There hid, as in a grave, awhile it lies,
Till the revolving season bids it rise ;
Then large increase the buried treasures yield,
And with full harvest crown the plenteous field.

But to return to history. The con-
duct of Lady Jane in this sudden transi-
tion was such as was to be expected
from one so humble, gentle, and pious.
" She had," says Bishop Burnet, " a mind
wonderfully raised above the world ; and
at the age wherein others are but imbib-
ing the notions of philosophy, she had
attained to the practice of the highest
precepts of it ; for she was neither lifted
up with the hope of a crown, nor cast
down when she saw her palace made
afterwards her prison ; but carried her-
self with an equal temper of mind in
those great inequalities of fortune that so
suddenly exalted and depressed her."
In the words of the quaint Fuller, " she
made misery itself amiable by her pious
and patient behavior; adversity, her

LADY JANE GREY.

night clothes, becoming her, as well as
her day dressing, by reason of her pious
disposition."

On the 19th of November, Lady Jane
and her husband were arraigned for
high treason. Conscious that a defence
would be useless, they each pleaded
guilty. The description of the scene, as
given by contemporaries, has been well
embodied by the poet already quoted.
Bishop Gardiner, in reply to the expostu-
lations of one of the council in favor
of mercy, is represented as speaking
thus :

"These are romantic, light, vain-glorious

dreams.

Have you considered well upon the danger ?
How dear to the fond many, and how popu-
lar,
These are whom you would spare ? Have you

forgot

When at the bar, before the seat of judgment,
This Lady Jane, this beauteous traitress, stood,
With what command she charmed the whole

assembly ?

With silent grief the mournful audience sat,
Fixed on her face, and listening to her plead-
ing:

Her very judges wrung their hands for pity ;
Their old hearts melted in them as she spoke,
And tears ran down upon their silver beards.
E'en I myself was moved, and for a moment
Felt wrath suspended in my doubtful breast,
And questioned if the voice I heard was mortal.
But when her tale was done, what loud ap-
plause,

Like bursts of thunder, shook the spacious hall !
At last, when sore constrained, the unwilling

lords

Pronounced the fatal sentence on her life ;
A peal of groans ran through the crowded

court

As every heart was broken, and the doom,
Like that which waits the world, were univer-
sal."

It has been supposed that Mary had

at this moment, no sanguinary purposes
in view, but merely hoped by the terrors
of a scaffold, and in the seclusion of a
prison, to recall the youthful pair from
the path of heresy. With this view, she
caused the most solemn promises of life
and fortune to be made to Lady Jane, if
she would recant; the most learned
divines of the Catholic faith were sent to
reason with her, and to endeavor to turn
her from that faith which she had held
from her cradle ; " each striving by art,
by flattery, by threatening, by promise
of life, or whatever else might move most
in the bosom of a weak woman, who
should become master of so great a
prize ; but all their labors were bootless,
for she had art to confound their art,
wisdom to withstand their flatteries, reso-
lution above their menaces, and such a
true knowledge of life, that death was to
her no other than a most familiar ac-
quaintance."

Indeed, supported as she was by the
almost unanimous voice of the English
people, Mary had little cause to fear her
innocent rivals. She seems to have felt
thus, for many little indulgences were
granted to them ; though not permitted
to see one another, they were allowed
such freedom within the walls of the
Tower, as was not inconsistent with
their safe-keeping.

But whatever hopes they might have
entertained were quickly taken away by
an unhappy event, which it was impos-
sible for them to foresee, and in which it
is not so much as pretended that they
were parties. The cruelty and bigotry
of Philip of Spain had made his very
name detestable in England; when,
therefore, the queen announced her de-

LADY JANE GREY.

termination to marry him, the whole
kingdom was thrown into consternation.
The most strenuous efforts were made
to dissuade her from her purpose ; but,
these failing, a general insurrection was
concerted, having for its object the
substitution- of the protestant Elizabeth
for Mary upon the throne.

Their plans were not yet fully ma-
tured, when the arrest of some of those
concerned, though for some entirely dis-
tinct cause, alarmed Sir Thomas Wyatt,
the leader, and drove him into premature
rebellion. The queen, when she heard
of his rising, sent a herald to command
him to dismiss his followers. The her-
ald found the moat about Sir Thomas'
house filled with water, and the draw-
bridge up ; at one spot a ford seemed to
offer a safe passage. " On the inside
thereof walked the proper case of a man
well habited, and his face carrying no
despair of wisdom therein. The herald
asked him, * whether he might safely
go over there ? ' To whom the other
slily replied, 'Yea, yea ;' but had not the
strength of his horse been more than
ordinary, he either had been drowned in
the water, or buried in the mud." The
herald, on arriving at the house, made
loud complaints of the deceit practised
upon him ; when Sir Thomas summoned
all his household to answer the charge.
" The herald challengeth the party at the
first sight of him. ' Alas ! ' said Sir
Thomas, 'he is a mere natural, as will
appear, if you will please to examine
him.' 'Why, sirrah,' said the herald,
' did you direct me to come over where it
was almost impossible to pass without
drowning?' To whom the other an-
swered, ' The ducks came over not long

before you, whose legs were shorter than
your horse's.' Hereat the herald smiled
out his anger, adding withal, * Sir Tho-
mas, Hereafter let your fool wear his
motley, that he may deceive no more in
this kind.'"

The infatuation of Suffolk sealed his
daughter's fate. No sooner did he hear
of Wyatt's being in arms than he has-
tened down into Leicestershire and sum-
moned the people to join him in rebel-
lion; but his own tenants disregarded
the call ; he was seized by the queen's
officers and carried to London. The
father's treason was imputed to the
daughter, and one of the first acts of the
queen and her council, after the suppres-
sion of the rebellion, was to order the
execution of the sentence which had
been hanging over the head of Lady
Jane and her husband. Jane heard the
annunciation with gladness; she was
prepared for death, which she looked
upon as the termination of her miseries
and her entrance into eternal happiness.
But she was not suffered to pass the four
days of life which were allowed her, in
quiet ; her devotions were disturbed by
the priests who, by the queen's com-
mand, sought, by perpetual disputations,
to bring about what they called a timely
conversion. But their efforts, though
renewed on each day, were unsuccess-
ful ; " her faith, being built on the rock
of Christ, was by no worldly persuasion
or comfort to be either moved or shaken ;
so that after the expense of time, and the
loss of much speech, they left her, a lost
and forsaken member; but she prayed
for them, and with a most charitable
patience endured their worst censures."

It had been the original intention of

LADY JANE GREY.

the queen that the youthful couple
should suffer together on Tower-hill,
but the council, dreading the compassion
of the people for their youth, beauty, and
innocence, changed the orders, and gave
directions that Lord Guilford should suf-
fer on the Hill, but that Lady Jane
should be executed within the walls of
the Tower. On the morning of the fatal
day, Lord Guilford desired permission to
see his wife. The queen granted the
permission, but Lady Jane refused to
permit the interview ; sending him word,
that the tenderness of their parting would
overcome the fortitude of both, and would
too much unbend their minds from the
constancy which was required of them.
She added, that their separation would
be but for a moment; and that they
would soon rejoin each other in a scene
where their affections would forever be
united, and where death and. disappoint-
ment could no longer have access to them
to disturb their happiness.

On his way to the gate, Lord Guilford
passed directly under the window of his
wife, and from thence she took one last
parting look in the world, giving him a
signal of remembrance ; and when he
was no more to be seen she sat down
with apparent tranquillity, and waited
the arrival of her own appointed hour.
When she heard the rumbling of the
cart which brought back the lifeless
remains of her husband, she rose, and
walked to the window under which it
passed. Her attendants would have
prevented her, but she declared that the
constancy of his end had given a confir-
mation to her mind adequate to counter-
balance the shock of this 5ad spectacle ;
and she is then said to have exclaimed,

" Guilford ! Guilford ! the antepast is
not so bitter that you have tasted, and
that I shall soon taste, as to make my
flesh tremble ; but that is nothing com-
pared to the feast that you and I shall
this day partake of in heaven ! "

When the officer appeared to summon
her to the scaffold, she followed him
with the most perfect calmness; there
was no change of countenance, nor any
evidence of discomposure. She mounted
the steps without hesitation, and waited
quietly till silence was procured, and
then addressed a few simple words to
the spectators ; avowing her steadfast-
ness in the Protestant faith. The exe-
cutioner, on his knees, besought her for-
giveness, which she sweetly and wil-
lingly accorded to him. She then bound
the handkerchief over her eyes, and
feeling for the block, said, " What shall
I do ? Where is it ! " At these ques-
tions one of the persons on the scaffold
guided her towards the block, on which
she instantly laid her head, and then
stretching forth her body, exclaimed,
" Lord, into thy hands I commit my
spirit ! " A pause of one moment ensued,
the axe fell, and the lovely and pious
victim to ambition and bigotry rejoined
her husband in heaven !

ANA are maxims, anecdotes, and
original fragments of eminent men. The
French have a multitude o such works.
In England there are Walpoliana, Ad-
disonia, Swiftiana, and Knoxiana and
Londoniana.

SIR ISAAC NEWTON, on being asked his
opinion of poetry, replied, that it was a
kind of ingenious nonsense.

LORD MAYOR'S SHOW.

Lord Mayor's Show,

THE chief officer of the city of London
is called the Lord Mayor. He is
chosen by the citizens of that me-
tropolis, and on the day in which he
assumes his office, he rides about the
streets of London in a splendid gilt
coach, attended by other coaches, and
men dressed up in military hats, with
tall feathers. Their coats and panta-
loons are almost covered with gold lace.
The heads of the horses and the har-
nesses are decorated with gilt stars and
bouquets of ribbons.

The driver of the Lord Mayor's coach
looks almost smothered with his big hat,
and the immense mass of gilt lace upon
the collar of his coat. The Lord Mayor
himself is very gaily dressed. I once
saw this show, and it appeared to me
that the Lord Mayor and all his attend-
ants looked more like images or idols,
bedizened with finery, than like human
beings.

The Lord Mayor goes to Black Friar's
bridge, where he and his attendants en-
ter a splendid barge. They are then

rowed to "Westminster bridge, where
they land and proceed to the Westmin-
ster Hall, where the Lord Mayor takes
the oath of office. He then returns to
his barge, lands at Black Friar's bridge,
and reenters his coach. The grand pro-
cession is attended by the banners of the
city companies, and, after marching about
the principal streets, they proceed to
Guildhall, where they have a sumptuous
dinner.

Wherever the Lord Mayor goes on
this occasion, there are crowds of boys
and other persons following him. When
he is on the river, he is surrounded by a
multitude of boats, with flags waving in
the air, and when he passes along the
streets, the ladies wave their handker-
chiefs from the windows.

The people of London seem very
much delighted with this exhibition.
Indeed, they seem to think that he who
gives them the best show is the best
mayor.

These spectacles are of very ancient
date. Formerly the kings and queens

JOAN OF ARC.

used to parade the streets of the city,
dressed up in gaudy finery, and all the
young people admired these things, for
it was always a holiday, when such a
spectacle took place. In modern times,
kings and queens are not so fond of
showing themselves. The present queen,
Victoria, seems to have partially restored
the old custom, for she may be frequent-
ly seen travelling about the country.
She has the good sense, however, to
dress modestly, and like other ladies,

But as the pageantry of kings and
queens has grown into disuse, the peo-
ple of London seem to think more of
Lord Mayor's day. In 1837, the Lord
Mayor's procession was attended by two
gigantic figures on horseback, called
Gog and Magog. In 1841, the proces-
sion was accompanied by a model of a
full-rigged ship ; she was manned by
boys from the naval school, who per-
formed all the evolutions like thorough-
bred sailors. It was placed in a car,
drawn by six horses.

The Lord Mayor's coach was built in
the year 1757, almost one hundred years
ago. It cost about five thousand dollars,
and its pannels were decorated with
paintings by Cipriani, a celebrated artist
of that day. The engraving at the head
of this article gives a good idea of this
famous vehicle.

Joan of Arc,

CHAPTER I.

IHE village of Domremi, near Vaucou-
leurs, on the borders of Lorraine, is
distinguished as the birth-place of
the celebrated Joan of Arc, in the
year 1402, Born in a humble sphere

of life, her education was limited. Hei
parents, James D'Arc and Isabella Rome,
were poor, and not being able to educate
Joan, sent her, when still young, to take
the situation of servant in a small inn,
Having a robust frame, and an active
temper, she employed herself in a man-
ner rather unsuited to her sex, in curry-
ing the horses of the people who fre-
quented the inn, and riding them tc
water. In short, she took pleasure in al.
the active occupations attending the situ-
ation, at the same time that her conduci
and manners were entirely free from re-
proach.

At this time, the situation of France
was very interesting and critical, roused
the attention, and formed a constanl
theme for conversation in all parts of the
kingdom, and among all ranks of people,
The prince having been expelled from
his throne, the kingdom was of course in
a state of division and anarchy. At the
same time, the English army were laying
siege to Orleans, whose inhabitants were
making the greatest efforts to avert theii
probable fate. Joan listened with interest
to the news, as it was repeated by the
changing guests of the inn ; all the " ru-
mors of wars" reached her ears, and
struck her imagination. She listened
with daily increasing interest to the sto-
ry of the unfortunate dauphin, till hei
bosom was filled with a sentiment of loya]
attachment to his cause. She pondered
on the probable means of his deliver-
ance, and dwelt upon the miseries of hei
country till her mind became disordered
and bewildered, and she thought thai
she was impelled, by supernatural voices
to expel the enemies of her bleeding
country. Her mind was filled with vis-

JOAN OF ARC.

ions, her heart with high hopes, and her
habits of life and fearless temper urged
her on to the accomplishment of that
which her youth and sanguine ardor led
her to deem possible.

Filled with these fancies, she could no
longer remain in the inactive sphere in
which her parents had placed her ; she
was no longer content, and, packing up
her small wardrobe, she returned to her
family, and communicated to them her
projects and her hopes. Touched by
her enthusiasm, her friends accompanied
her to Vaucouleurs, where the governor,
whose name was Baudricourt, resided.
Having obtained admission, she imparted
her mission, told him her high hopes,
painted to him in glowing colors the vis-
ions that had visited her from above, and
conjured him to aid her in effecting the
great object she had at heart. Above
all, she warned him not to treat with
neglect or contempt the revelations of
God. The governor at first deemed her
insane and unworthy of attention, but at
length, impressed by her perseverance,
and by the representations of a gentle-
man by the name of Longport, who had
conceived a high idea of the character
of Joan, he had her conducted to the
French court, which was then residing
at Chinon.

It is pretended by those addicted to
the marvellous, that Joan, having offered
in the name of the Supreme Being, to
raise the siege of Orleans, to conduct the
dauphin to Rheims, and there to anoint
him king, she impressed him with a
strong sense of her divine authority, by
confiding to him a secret which he sup-
posed only known to himself. She is
said to have described minutely a sword

which was kept in a certain church, and
which she had never seen. She also
required this instrument to aid her in the
victories that she expected and promised
to perform. Hope and enthusiasm now
combined to animate the drooping spirits
of the royalists. Heaven itself appeared
to smile on their cause, and declare it-
self in their favor. The affairs of the
king were in too desperate a state to re-
ject any means, however insufficient or
romantic, which might flatter the hopes
of his adherents, and faith and confi-
dence silenced the cold suggestions of
reason.

After many debates in parliament,
many scruples among the king and his
ministers, and various investigations by
the divines of the pretensions of the pro-
phetess, her wishes were complied with,
and, mounted on horseback, and armed
cap-a-pie, Joan exhibited herself to the
admiring populace. Her fine figure, ani-
mated face, and the graceful manner in
which she managed her pawing steed,
added to the popular enthusiasm. Shouts
and acclamations rent the air ; her former
occupations were forgotten ; chivalry, re-
ligion and sentiment united to captivate
the fancy and influence the hearts of the
multitude.

All things being now ready, prepara-
tions were made to put in execution the
plans of the heroine. A large convoy,
escorted by ten thousand men, and head-
ed by Joan, were ordered to march to
Orleans. Mounted on a white horse,
her head crowned with a helmet, she
bore in her hand a consecrated banner.
In her prophetic character, she insisted
that the convoy should enter Orleans by
the direct road from the side of Beausse ;

JOAN OF ARC.

but Dunois thought proper to differ from
the maid, and conducted his troops on
the opposite side of the river, where the
enemy were less strongly entrenched.
Previous to their march, Joan had ad-
dressed a letter to the English generals,
exhorting them to leave the country, and
not to resist the will of God, whose com-
mission she bore. The officers treated
her pretensions with derision and scorn,
and ridiculed the desperate situation of
the dauphin, who had recourse to so ab-
surd an expedient to improve his condi-
tion. The soldiers, however, were af-
fected with superstitious terror by the
stories which had reached their camp,
and were many of them nearly deprived
of courage and confidence.

While the convoy approached the
river, the inhabitants of Orleans sent
boats to receive the provisions, while
Joan protected them with her troops.
The English did not venture to attack
her, and after accomplishing their pur-
pose, the French returned in safety to
Blois. The complete success of this
undertaking produced a corresponding
effect upon the minds of both parties.
Joan made a triumphal entry into Or-
leans, and was received as one sent from
heaven by the enraptured citizens.

The next convoy which was sent to
Orleans, entered, as formerly desired by
Joan, on the other side of the river.
Struck with panic, the besiegers offered
no resistance, but allowed the convoy to
proceed straight through their redoubts,
in silence and consternation. The Eng-
lish general saw himself placed in a
most extraordinary and perilous situa-
tion ; the minds of his troops were un-
nerved by a fanatic influence, against

which valor had no effect, their spirits
were depressed, and thus everything
conspired in favor of the besieged, and
led the way to further triumphs.

Joan, reading at a glance the situation
of the English soldiers, and profiting by
the ardor inspired by this fortunate train
of circumstances, now addressed the gar-
rison, and exhorted them to make a sally
upon the enemy. Waving her consecra-
ted banner, she called upon the generals
to aid her, and the troops, thus assured
of the assistance of Heaven, poured with
fury upon the English, whose forces,
unnerved by superstition, were cut to
pieces, and many of them taken captive.
Such was the panic, that Sir John*Tal-
bot, who arrived at this time with troops
for the relief of the garrison, retired
again, not daring to attack the victorious
and heaven-led army.

The maid and her followers, excited
by success, and not doubting that they
could carry everything before them, now
proposed to attack the main body of the
enemy. Dunois, who had more discre-
tion, though equal zeal, urged them
rather to attack the English forts, which
lay on the opposite side of the rixer. To
this Joan consented ; the forts were as-
sailed, and, for a moment, the French
were repulsed, but the inspired maid,
animating her troops by her voice, her
gestures, and her lofty bearing, rallied
her recreant troops, led them back to the
charge, and was completely victorious.
Having received a wound in the neck
from an arrow, she retired behind the
troops, and extracting the weapon with
her own hands, she exclaimed, " It is
glory, and not blood, which flows from
this wound." After having it slightly

OUR CORRESPONDENCE.

dressed, she returned, placed herself
again at the head of her victorious
troops, and succeeded in planting her
victorious standard on the enemy's ram-
parts.

(To be continued.)

THE musical instrument called the
trombone is the sackbut of the ancients.
It was revived in 1790, after a model
found at Pompeii. It produced every
semitone by sliding out and in, like a
telescopic tube.

Our Correspondence,

We have the pleasure to acknowledge the
letter of a subscriber from Holliston . The com-
munication of J. Q. is also received. His curi-
osity in respect to the tale of Dirk Heldriver
will be satisfied in the progress of the story.
Our little friend, George G , must have pa-
tience. He shall know all about Dick Bold-
hero in good time. His adventures will carry
us through a number of chapters. The follow-
ing letter sufficiently explains itself:

Point Shirley, August 2lst.

MR. MERRY, Although the weather is very
hot in Boston, it is very cool down here. To
prove this, I send you answers to two puzzles,
which are to be found in your Museum. That
for the one in the June number, is B?^ona-
parte. The true spelling of this name is Bona-
parte. Do you think it right, Mr. Merry, to
puzzle your readers with a false spelling ?

The answer to the puzzle in the August num-
ber is Norwich, a town in Connecticut ; and a
very pleasant town it is.

Now, Mr. Merry, I have answered the puz-
zles, and though they were not very deep, yet
I should hardly have done this had I been
spending the dog-days in Boston. But here I
feel as lively as if it were October. I walk
along the sea-shore every morning and evening,
and sometimes I ramble as far as Chelsea

Beach. I love the blue sea, and I think I shall
make a voyage upon it as soon as I am old
enough. Yours, J. H.

Cleveland, Ohio, August kih.

MR. ROBERT MERRY, Though we are eight
hundred miles from Boston, we get Merry's
Museum every month. Sometimes it comes
late, and this disappoints me but I am glad to
get it after all. I see that some of your sub-
scribers write you letters ; I venture to follow
their example, and shall tell you something
about Cleveland.

It is quite a pleasant town at least, I think
so, for it is my birth-place. It is situated on a
bluff eighty feet high, upon the south side of
Lake Erie. The streets are straight, and cross
each other at right angles. You can look out
upon the lake from many of the streets, and as
it is seventy miles wide, on the north side you
cannot see the land.

The streets are very level, and many of the
houses are handsome. I was once at New
Haven, in Connecticut, and I think some of the
streets in Cleveland look like some of those in
New Haven. We have, however, no moun-
tains, like East and West Rock. Indeed, the
country is flat around Cleveland, and, far as the
eye can reach, you can see nothing like a
mountain.

The river Cayahogo empties into the lake
west of the town. At the mouth of this is our
harbor, and here you see a great many small
vessels. Some of these come from Buffalo,
some from Detroit, some from Canada, some
from San dusky, and some from other places.
They often carry away four or five thousand
barrels of flour in a single day. Fine steam-
boats come here every day, and at this season
we see many people in them from Boston, New
York, and Philadelphia.

Thus you see, Mr. Merry, though we are so
far from Boston, we are not quite out of the
world. The steamboats go almost a thousand
miles farther north and west than we are, and I
am told that some of the emigrants, when asked
to what place they are going, say, "to Sun
Down."

I have now filled my paper, though I ought
to tell you that this is a very cheap place to live
in. You can buy a barrel of flour for three dol-
lars j a ton of excellent coal for two dollars and
fifty cents ; eggs for six cents a dozen ; and a
wild turkey for twenty-five cents. If any of
your friends can't find room enough in Boston,
let them come out here, and we will take care
of them. A letter of introduction from you will
ensure them a welcome.

Yours, S. P T.

The Lark.

MUSIC COMPOSED TOR MERRY'S MUSEUM.

I. I hear a pretty bird, but hark! I cannot see it any-where, Oh! it is a lit-tle lark

patEtdgi

'^tJzltzJ^*-

Singing in the morning air. Little lark, do tell me why You are singing in the sky.

^ . P0 y"~~T~f"*1 I ^ ^ ~ I ^I * &.~m319~& ^~~3

US =a?=*? E ^==E=eEB: sESjEj

Other little birds at rest
Have not yet begun to sing ;
Every one is in its nest,
With its head behind its wing ;
Little lark, then tell me why
You 're so early in the sky ?

You look no bigger than a bee,
In the middle of the blue,
Up above the poplar tree,
I can hardly look at you.
Little lark, do tell me why
You are mounted up so high ?

'T is to watch the silver star
Sinking slowly in the skies,
And beyond the mountain far,

See the glorious sun anse.
Little lady, this is why
I am mounted up so high.

'T is to sing a merry song
To the pleasant morning light ;
Why stay in my nest so long
When the sun is shining bright ?
Little lady, this is why
I sing so early in the sky.

To the little birds below

I do sing a merry tune ;

And I let the ploughman know

He must come to labor soon.

Little lady, this is why

I am singing in the sky.

MERRY'S MUSEUM,

Vol. VIII.

OCTOBER, 1844,

ffo. 4.

IT is October. The "sere and yellow
leaf" is in the forest ; the birds, one
by one, have departed, and stillness
begins to settle over the scenes where
the ceaseless minstrelsy of the feathered
tribes had prevailed. Yet the landscape
is still beautiful : the woods have put on
their "coat of many colors;" the nuts
are beginning to fall, and the squirrels
have to dispute with the boys and girls
the possession of their first fruits.

Every season has its appropriate work
to perform in the great household of
nature : the winds of October and No-
vember disseminate the seeds which have
been matured during the summer. The
thistle down is now seen emigrating on

VOL. VIII. 7

its noiseless wing, bearing its little seed
to some place where it may "settle." A
thousand other seeds are scattered by the
winds and the waters, and thus the face
of nature is covered with its variegated
garments of vegetation.

We cannot do better than to close our
notice of October, with an old piece of
wit, which, however common, will bear
repeating.

ECHO GIVES A LESSON.

It is October ; the winds have left the
forest and the field ; the busy birds have
ceased their labors, and have either de-
parted, or sit songless upon the trees.
Stillness settles at noon-day over the
landscape. Step over into the valley,

THE CHINCHILLA.

and see how your voice will be repeated
to the hills. I suppose you to speak in
the character of a glutton.

Glutton. My joy is a feast, my wish
is wine !

Echo replie ,-
swine ! ! !

Do you not feel rebuked ?
with the dialogue.

Glutton. We epicures are happy truly.

Echo. You lie.

Glutton. Will it hurt me if I drink
too much ?

Echo. Much.

Glutton. Thou mockest me ! I '11 not
believe it.

matching the last sound,
But go on

Echo. Believe it.

Glutton. Is it drink that brings infir-
mities ?

Echo. It is.

Glutton. Then Temperance I '11 love
thee.

Echo. I love thee.

Glutton. If that be true which thou
dost tell,

Then Sensuality farewell.

Echo. Farewell !

Such rs the lesson, which, according
to an old book, Echo read to a glutton,
some two hundred years ago. It is
worth learning now.

The Chinchilla.

HIS pretty little animal is six inches
long, with small rounded ears, large
black eyes, and a tail of moderate
length. It is a species of field rat,
found in the northern parts of Chili, in

South America. It lives in burrows,
and feeds upon the roots of bulbous
plants. Its fur is in great esteem, being
very fine and of an ash gray color. It
is very docile in temper, and extremely

THE CHINCHILLA.

timid. If placed in the bosom, it re-
mains as still and quiet as if it were in
its own nest. It is very agile, and can
leap to the height of several feet, its hind
legs being longer than the fore legs. It
usually sits upon its haunches, and is
able to raise itself up and stand upon its |
hinder feet. It feeds in a sitting pos- |
ture, grasping its food in its fore paws, |
in the same manner as the squirrel.

There is a variety of the chinchilla in
Peru, but it is larger in size, and the fur !
is not so fine as that of the Chilian ani- I
mal. It is equally good-tempered, and j
mild in its disposition, and, when domes-
ticated, is very tame and playful.

Great numbers of these animals are
caught, by boys with dogs, and sold to
traders, who take them to Santiago.
The extensive use of the fur has occa-
sioned great destruction of them. The
ancient Peruvians made coverlets for
beds of this fur.

A Spanish writer, in 1591, thus men-
tions this animal : " The chinchilly is a
kind of small beasts, like squirrels ; they
have a wonderful smooth and soft skin,
which the people wear as a healthful
thing to cover those parts which have
need of a moderate heat."

A seaman, in 1593, also describes
them : " In Peru, they have little beastes,
like unto a squirrel, but that hee is gray ;
his skinne is the most delicate, soft, and
curious furre that I have scene, and of
much estimation as is reason; few of
them go into Spain, because difficult to
be come by, for that the princes and
nobles laie waite for them. They call
this beast Chinchilla, and of them they
have great abundance."

The Branch of Elder.

A FABLE.

HUNTER was wandering along over the
I fields with his son, and a deep brook
I flowed between them. Theboywish-
J-*- ed to go over to his father, but was
unable, for the brook was very wide.
Immediately he cut a branch from a bush,
placed it in the brook, leaned fearlessly
upon it, and with all his force gave a
sudden spring. But behold ! it was the
branch of an elder-tree, and as the boy
was swinging over the brook, the staff
broke in the middle, he fell into deep
water, a splash was heard, and the tide
closed over him.

A shepherd saw what had happened,
from a distance, and raising an alarm,
ran towards the brook. But the boy blew
the water from him, and swam, laugh-
ing, to the shore.

Then the shepherd said to the hun-
ter, It appears that your son has been
well instructed, but one thing you have
forgotten. Why have you not taught
him to examine within, before he opens
his heart to confidence? Had he dis-
covered the weak pith that was conceal-
ed, he would not have trusted the de-
ceiving bark !

Friend, answered the hunter, I have
sharpened his eye, and improved his
strength, and I can now trust him to ex-
perience. Time must teach him to be
suspicious. But he will persevere in
the discovery, for his eye is clear, and
his strength is practised.

THE OAK TREE does not attain its full
growth until it is two hundred years old.

100

DICK BOLDHERO.

Dick Boldhero,

CHAPTER VIII.

IT was more than two months after my
arrival at Maroontown, before I was
in a condition to depart. Finding that
I should not be able to return to Para-
maribo in season to go back to Connec-
ticut with my vessel, I sent word to the
captain, requesting him to see my mo-
ther and sister, and tell them what de-
tained me.

When I had sufficiently recovered to
travel, I set out from Maroontown, hav-
ing taken leave of my kind friends there.
The negro who had rescued me, together
with his family, had done everything in
their power to make me comfortable and
happy. The neighbors too had shown
the greatest interest in my behalf; they
were constantly sending me every sort
of delicacy, such as small game and the
choicest fruits. Never have I met with
a people so little selfish, and to whom
hospitality seemed to be so natural.
Some of them really shed tears as I de-
parted, and even offered to accompany
me on my journey. I accepted the lat-
ter proposition in part, and accordingly
a young man set out to be my guide for
the first day.

I had heard at Maroontown something
about the Englishman whom I was go-
ing to visit. I learned that he was a
coffee planter with a large estate ; but I
had discovered that his residence, instead
of being a hundred miles from Parama-
ribo, was nearly double that distance. This
tanght me a good lesson, which I recom-
mend to the attention of my readers ; it
is this before setting out upon a jour-

ney, be sure to ascertain how far you
have to go.

It was now December a time when
the winter had already commenced in
New England, but it was very different
in Guiana. I found the weather very
warm, and my strength was so impaired
by my sickness, that the first day I did
not proceed more than eight miles. I
slept at a small plantation, and the next
morning, having taken leave of my
guide, I proceeded alone upon my jour-
ney. For three days, nothing particular
occurred. The country was slightly un-
dulating, and portions of it were exceed-
ingly fertile. Here and there was a
plantation, but a large part of the land
was covered with forests. On the fourth
day after my departure, I met with a cu-
rious adventure. There is in this re-
gion a species of wild hog called pecca-
ry. In some parts, they are numerous,
and I had frequently seen them crossing
my path in the course of my travels.
They seemed not to be very shy, yet, as
I approached them, they would usually
start off with a kind of grunt, or bark,
and hide themselves in the bushes.

On the occasion just referred to, I
chanced to see a peccary, with a litter of
young ones, lying by the side of my
path. When I came near, they sprang
up and ran away. I however gave chase,
and soon caught one of the little pigs.
The fellow instantly set up the most vo-
ciferous squealing upon this, the mo-
ther turned back and came upon me with
savage ferocity. Her mouth was open,
and she uttered a sort of bellowing that
was quite frightful. I was not disposed
to yield my prize at once, but holding on
to the hind legs of the pig with the left

DICK BOLDHERO.

101

hand, and flourishing my club in the
right, I faced the infuriated dam. She
hesitated a little, but kept up her cry. In
a few minutes, I saw issuing from the
adjacent thickets several other peccaries,
apparently coming to the rescue. They
immediately advanced, and I was soon
surrounded with more than forty of these
raging beasts.

Affairs were now getting serious, and
I thought it best to release the little pris-
oner, hoping that this would pacify the
tumult. But the tempest was not so ea-
sily appeased. The bristly mob still en-
circled me, grunting, squealing, barking,
and bellowing, while, at the same time,
their tusks were displayed, ready to rend
me in pieces. I was obliged to keep
wheeling round, brandishing my club,
occasionally giving an obtrusive snout a
pretty hearty thump by way of caution.
The storm, however, seemed to thicken,
and it was obvious that the whole troop
would soon rush upon me. In this ex-
tremity, discretion seemed the better part
of valor, and concluding that I had better
risk my honor than my life, I took advan-
tage of an open space, sprang through
the circle, and leaped into the branches
of a tree that was near by.

The disappointed assailants pursued
me, and encircling the tree, vented their
rage in grunts and groans. Never did I
see such a hubbub. Sitting upon the
limbs of the tree in perfect safety, I look-
ed down and laughed very heartily at
the scene. There was one boar who
seemed particularly anxious to signalize
himself. He had enormous long tusks,
and in his fury, he frothed at the mouth,
and kept up a great outcry. He was
probably the captain of the troop, for he

generally led the way, and a party of a
dozen supporters were always at his
heels.

I could not forbear the pleasure of stir-
ring up this Hector of the field with an
occasional poke across the back with my
shillaleh. It was amusing to see his in-
dignation, blent with his courage. He
rose upon his hind legs, and looked de-
fiance with all his might. There was
something about him which seemed to
say " Come down here, you coward ;
come down, and we '11 give you a peel-
ing." I did not, however, accept the
challenge, though I would have been
willing to have tried my hand with him in
single combat. Forty to one was rather
too many, and so I remained in my castle.

Rage, like everything else, must have
its end ; so, in the course of half an hour,
the chivalry of these pigs began to abate.
Two or three of them slipped off into the
bushes, and their example was soon fol-
lowed by others. In the course of half
an hour, they were all dispersed except
the commander-in-chief, and even he, at
last, took his departure, having expressed
his contempt and defiance in a few sig-
nificant grunts. I waited till the whole
troop had vanished. I then cautiously
descended, and proceeded with a light step
upon my way. I looked back several
times, and scrutinized the thickets that
lay along my path. I travelled pretty
rapidly for three or four miles, and I may
as well confess that I breathed much
more freely when I found I had distanced
the enemy. It may seem ridiculous that
one should be seriously frightened at such
an attack, yet the scene dwelt for some
time in my memory, and for several
nights, my dreams were embellished with

102

DICK BOLDHERO.

images drawn from the swinish mob
that had assailed me in the woods.

I now continued my journey, and at
the end of eight days, I reached the place
of my destination. I found the person
whom I sought to be a fat, burly English-
man, named Hartley, possessing about
a hundred negroes, all of whom were en-
gaged in the cultivation of coffee. When
I told him my errand, he looked at me
with surprise, and seemed at first to be
in doubt whether he should answer my
inquiries. At last, having satisfied him-
self that I had no sinister object in view,
he told me the story which shall be relat-
ed in the next chapter.

CHAPTER IX.

" Your uncle," said Mr. Hartley, " was
directed to Surinam rather by chance
than choice. He fled from St. Domingo
during the troubles there. The vessel
in which he came was the only one
which offered him an immediate chance
of escape, and as his life was in danger,
he went on board of her. When he
reached Paramaribo, he had considerable
property, and thinking that the place of-
fered him fair prospects, he invested his
money in ships, and established himself
as a merchant He was very enterpris-
ing, and for a time, successful. His
manners were pleasing, and he won the
good will of every body around him. He
paid his addresses to the daughter of a
rich planter, and soon married her.

" He thus became allied to one of the
first families in Surinam. This circum-
stance, added to others of a favorable char-
acter, soon gave him an eligible stand-
ing in society. But suddenly a blight

came over his prospects, and his descent
was even more rapid than his elevation.

"After he had been at Paramaribo
about three years, he deemed it neces-
sary to go to Amsterdam. Having ad-
justed his business there, he took pas-
sage in one of his own ships, to return.
She was said to be richly laden, and, ac-
cording to his statement, had merchan-
dize on board to the amount of more than
two hundred thousand dollars. Previous
to her departure, he sent to Surinam, and
had insurance effected there to the amount
of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars
upon the ship and cargo. He returned
to Paramaribo, stating that his vessel
was wrecked upon one of the West India
Islands in a gale, and that the ship and
cargo were entirely lost ; he, with the
captain and two hands only, being saved
by swimming to the shore.

" Under these circumstances, he claim-
ed the insurance ; but this was refused
by the company. Your uncle brought
an action against them ; but an affidavit
was produced in court, signed by the
captain and the two hands, declaring that
the ship was run on shore by your un-
cle's orders ; his purpose being to destroy
the vessel and then claim the insurance,
which was said to be twice the amount
of the real cost. The astonishment
that prevailed through the city of Para-
maribo at these disclosures cannot be de-
scribed. Your uncle breasted the shock
with great courage, declared his inno-
cence, and asked only for time and op-
portunity to clear up the whole transac-
tion ; but the judgment of the court was
against him, and public opinion went
with it. His popularity vanished at
once ; his friends deserted him, and his

tICk EOLDH&RO.

103

creditors coming upon him, he was una-
ble to pay them, and was consequently
thrown into prison.

" Here he remained for two years,
during which period his wife died, leav-
ing a daughter, who has since remained
with her grandfather, M. Scager, and is
now grown up to be a beautiful black-
eyed girl."

At this point of Mr. Hartley's story,
my mind turned back to the place where
I spent the first night after my departure
from Paramaribo, and it seemed to me
probable that the girl whom I had seen
there was my cousin. I therefore inter-
rupted the narrative, and said, " Allow
me to inquire, sir, where the girl you
speak of now lives." " With her grand-
father," was the reply, " about ten miles
from Paramaribo." " Then I have seen
her," said I. " Indeed," said the Eng-
lishman, " and how did that happen ?"

I then related my adventures at the
plantation, giving a brief account of
my fright at the bat, the hospitality with
which I was treated, and the interest that
had been excited in the black-eyed girl
on learning my name. When I had
done, Mr. Hartley proceeded as follows :

" It is a strange accident that should
have brought you into an acquaintance
with your cousin Mirabel. However, to
proceed with your uncle's story. As he
continued in prison, no opportunity was
afforded for him even to make an attempt
to clear Up his character. His name,
therefore, passed into contempt and infa-
my. M. Scager, who was a proud and
haughty man, was sorely mortified at
the disgrace which had fallen upon his
family, through the connection, and
would permit no one even to speak of his
son-in-law.

" Time passed on, and the subject was
nearly forgotten. Your uncle seemed as
completely lost to the world as if he had
been dead and buried ; but at length a
considerable excitement was produced by
the rumor that he had escaped from pri-
son. On inquiry, it was found that he
was gone, but no one could tell how he
had effected his liberation, nor whither
he had fled. This occurred about a doz-
en years ago. It excited no little curios-
ity at the time, and various rumors were
afloat respecting it.

" There were a few persons who had
always entertained the belief that your
uncle was the victim of a foul conspira-
cy between the insurance company and
the captain of the ship ; that the loss of
the vessel was unavoidable ; and that, in
order to save the immense sum for which
insurance had been effected, the captain
had been bribed to make oath to a false
statement. But these rumors gradually
subsided, and for the space of nearly a
dozen years, your uncle's name was
hardly mentioned.

" But about a twelve-month ago there
was occasion for new surprise. I had
known your uncle intimately, for during
his residence in Paramaribo, I also lived
there. I had the greatest confidence in
him, and loved him as if he had been my
brother. I never fully credited the
charges that were brought against him,
and therefore made some efforts in his be-
half during his imprisonment, but it be-
came necessary for me to establish my-
self here, and I was able to render him.
no effectual assistance. I had no com-
munication from him after I left Parama-
ribo, and had no better means of judging
whither he had gone than any other indi-
vidual. His escape, however, seemed to

104

DICK BOLDHERO.

be an argument against him, and as
nothing was heard from him, my mind
gradually yielded to the conviction that
he had been guilty of the crime with
which he was charged.

" But about a year ago, I was aston-
ished as well as delighted to receive from
Amsterdam a remittance amounting to
sixty thousand dollars, with directions to
pay your uncle's creditors the full amount
due to them, both principal and interest.
No explanations whatever were given ;
no clue was afforded as to the source
from which the money came. I pro-
ceeded to distribute it according to the
directions, and paid every one of the per-
sons to whom your uncle was indebted,
and had still a balance of about two thou-
sand dollars in my hands. I have writ-
ten to the persons at Amsterdam, through
whom the money came to .me, mak-
ing inquiries as to your uncle, and
asking instructions respecting the sur-
plus that remains, and have had only the
naked reply, that no knowledge what-
ever of your uncle is in possession of the
parties, and that they have no directions
but those given me in the first letter.

" I have not been able to obtain any
precise information respecting your un-
cle. Upon the payment of his debts, an
entire revolution of public opinion took
place at Paramaribo, in regard to him.
The belief became general that he was
what he seemed to be, a high-minded and
honorable man, and that he had suffered
from a base conspiracy. The uneasiness
displayed by a certain lawyer who had
been connected with the insurance com-
pany, served to confirm these opinions.

" There was also another circumstance

which contributed to the same result, and
this was, that the captain had never re-
turned to Paramaribo, although he had a
wife and family there ; and it was re-
ported that he had turned out a desperate
character, and had been engaged in sev-
eral piratical expeditions."

It may be well believed that I listened
to this recital with the most intense in-
terest. Scarcely was it finished, when
my determination was formed to set
about a search for my uncle. I soon
communicated these views to Mr. Hart-
ley. At first he objected, urging my
youth, the utter want of a clue by which
he could be traced, and my destitution of
means for sustaining the expense of the
undertaking, as conclusive arguments
against it.

He considered the project indeed to be
the hair-brained dream of a sanguine
boy ; but as I persisted in my resolution,
and suggested my plan of operation, he
began to listen, and in the end, gave me
his hearty support and efficient aid. He
supplied me with letters to several per-
sons in Paramaribo, who might aid me in
my researches, furnished me with money
for my immediate expenses, and gave
me a letter of credit for what I might far-
ther need. Being thus provided, I soon
set out for Paramaribo, with high hopes
of success in my proposed search.
(To be continued.)

THE cow will eat 276 plants, and re-
ject 218 ; the goat eats 449, and rejects
126 ; the sheep, 387 and 341 ; the
horse, 262 and 212 ; the hog, 72 and
171.

JOAN OF ARC.

105

Joan of Arc,

(Continued from page 95.)

nrjHE English, driven by these successes
r from their entrenchments, lost, with
I their spirit of confidence, more than
-* six thousand men. Joan was once
more received by the city as a delivering
angel ; skepticism itself yielded to these
prodigies ; the French, as if inspired by
a celestial energy, passed from despair to
a sanguine enthusiasm, before which ob-
stacles melted away as mists in the sun's
ray.

The English generals, surprised and
dismayed, sought to combat fanaticism
with its own weapons, by attributing
their discomfiture to the ascendancy of
malignant demons, of whom they grave-
ly declared the maid to be the implement.
To discover and weigh the operation of
motives on the human mind, was an ef-
fort too arduous for an unenlightened age.
The doctrine of demons did little towards
raising the drooping spirits of the besieg-
ers, who sagely concluded a contest with
superior powers, whether of light or dark-
ness, to be unequal and hopeless. Una-
ble to maintain his ground with a panic-
struck army, Suffolk prudently raised the
siege, May 8th, 1429, and retreated.

The French, determined to pursue
their advantage, allowed the enemy no
time to rally; a body of six thousand
men were deputed by the Dauphin to at-
tack the English at Jergean, where a de-
tachment had retired with Suffolk. The
place was obstinately defended during a
siege of ten days. Joan, in leading the
attack, descended rapidly into the fosse,
where she received a blow on the head
from a stone, which stunned her and threw

her down ; but quickly recovering her-
self, the assault was carried, and Suffolk
was compelled to yield himself a pris-
oner. The remains of the English ar-
my, solicitous only to effect a retreat,
sought for a place of safety ; while the
vanguard of the French, attacking their
rear, at the village of Patay, they were
wholly routed ; two thousand men fell
in the action, and two of their generals
were taken prisoners. The conduct of
the troops, the military operations, and
even the decisions of the council, were
poetically attributed to Joan, to whose
sagacity and promptitude, in availing
herself of the suggestions of more expe-
rienced commanders, no mean praise is
due.

Having performed a part of her mis-
sion in raising the siege of Orleans, the
crowning of Charles at Rheims only re-
mained to be effected, on which enter-
prise she now insisted. Rheims, situat-
ed in a distant part of the kingdom, was
still in the hands of the enemy, whose
garrisons occupied the road which led to
it ; the idea of passing them would, a
few weeks before, have been deemed
rash and impracticable ; but the spirit
which now animated the French made
them invincible.

To avail himself of the enthusiasm of
his troops, and the consternation of the
English, for which the belief of a super-
natural agency afforded but a delicate
and critical support, was undoubtedly the
interest of Charles; persuaded by his
friends that the safety of the state de-
pended on his person, he had hitherto
restrained his military ardor ; he now
placed himself at the head of his troops,
and under the auspices of Heaven and

106

JOAN OF ARC.

fortune, inspired new zeal into his adhe-
rents. At the head of twelve thousand
men he began his career. Troye open-
ed to him its gates; Chalons followed
the example, while, before his approach,
Eheims sent him a deputation with its
keys ; every obstacle thus overcome, the
ceremony of the coronation was perform-
ed, July 17th, with the holy oil, brought
from heaven by a pigeon to Clovis, on
the first establishment of the French
monarchy.

The maid, clothed in armor, and dis-
playing her sacred and victorious banner,
took her place, on this occasion, by the
side of the king ; while the people hailed
this combination of miracles with shouts
and acclamations, Joan, after the cere-
mony was completed, throwing herself at
the feet of the monarch, embraced his
knees, and, shedding tears of tenderness
and joy, congratulated him and herself
on the success of her mission.

The mystical inauguration of Charles
shed over him a kind of glory, and gave
him in the eyes of the nation new and
divine rights ; triumph and success, the
best proofs of inspiration, by flattering
the inclination of the people, gave sup-
port and stability to their faith ; no one
presumed to doubt that, in all that had
passed, the finger of Heaven was evident
and clear.

Lyons, Soissons, Chateau-Thierre, Pro-
vins, with various other towns and for-
tresses, submitted to the summons of the
king and that of the prophetic maid ;
while the whole country disposed itself
to testify its loyalty and zeal. A medal
was struck in honor of the heroine, bear-
ing on one side her portrait; on the
other, a hand grasping a sword, with this

motto, "Consilio confirmata Dei"*-" Sus-
tained by the hand of God."

The Duke of Bedford, firm, vigilant,
and resolute, still preserved his footing in
France, where he employed every re-
source which circumstances had yet left
to him ; his garrisons were held in pos-
tures of defence, and a watchful eye kept
over the French; while the Parisians
were, by alternate severity and caresses,
yet retained in the English interest. An
alliance with the Duke of Burgundy, the
most important to their sinking credit,
was, at the same time renewed and
strengthened. The supplies of money
from the British parliament were tardy
and scanty; while the impression pro-
duced on the minds of the troops of the
wonderful power and resources of the
maid, occasioned daily desertions in the
army.

In this perilous state of their affairs,
their spirits were revived by the arrival
of Cardinal Winchester, who landed at
Calais, with a body of five thousand men,
which had been levied originally for a
crusade. The Cardinal suffered himself
to be prevailed upon by the Duke of
Bedford to lend him these troops, for the
purpose of opposing the French king,
who with his forces was advancing to-
wards Paris.

Charles, having left Rheims, and taken
St. Denis and Lagni, proceeded to the
capital, to which he laid siege. The
barriers of the port of St. Honore were
forced, when Joan, flushed with military
ardor, and animated by success, in at-
tempting to pass the fosse, received a
wound in her thigh. Pressing forward,
regardless of the blood which streamed
through her armor, she was at length

JOAN OF ARC.

107

perceived by the Duke of AleiMjon, who
observing her situation, carried her for-
cibly back to the camp. The king was,
however, compelled, by want of provi-
sions, to raise the siege, and to retreat
from before Paris with his troops.

The mission of the maid having been
thus accomplished, she expressed a wish
to be allowed to retire ; but this request i
was overruled. Charles, still solicitous
to retain her in his service, conferred, as
a testimony of his gratitude, nobility upon
her family and their posterity, both in the
male and female line. Armorial bearings
were accordingly assigned to her, and her
name was changed from Arc to Lys.
Domremi, the city which gave her birth,
received at the same time a perpetual ex-
emption from subsidies and taxes.

The Duke of Bedford, prudently de-
clining a present engagement with a vic-
torious foe, chose his posts with wisdom
and caution, attended the French in all
their movements, covered the towns and
garrisons which remained in his posses-
sion, and attentively watched the steps of
the enemy. The French army, consist-
ing mostly of volunteers, were soon after
disbanded. The king, having made him-
self master of various towns in the neigh-
borhood of Paris, retired to Bourges, the
place of his ordinary residence.

The Duke of Bedford, with the hope of
reviving the courage of the troops, pro-
posed that the young king of England
should pass over to France, be crowned
at Paris, and receive from his vassals a
new oath of allegiance. This ceremony,
however, politically planned, afforded but
a spiritless spectacle, when compared
with the coronation at Rheims. But an
event soon after took place, which gave

a different aspect to affairs, while it re-
flected upon both nations lasting dishonor.

The English, supported by the Duke
of Burgundy, laid siege to the town of
Compeigne, into which Joan threw her-
self. The garrison, who, with her assist-
ance, believed themselves invincible, re-
ceived her with transports of joy. On
the day following her arrival, May 24th,
1430, she headed a sally made on the
quarters of John de Luxemberg. Hav-
ing thrice driven the enemy from their
intrenchments, and finding their num-
bers increasing every moment, she pru-
dently ordered a retreat. But the pur-
suers pressing hard upon her, she turned
upon them and forced them to recoil.
The besieged, protected in the rear by
Joan, had in the mean time gained the
city in safety, the gates of which were
instantly closed. Joan, thus deserted
and alone, perceiving herself excluded,
surrounded by the enemy, suspecting
treachery, and rendered desperate, exerted
herself with a courage, deserving a bet-
ter fate. Her horse at length falling un-
der her, she was compelled, after per-
forming prodigies of valor, to surrender
to the enemy. The Burgundians, into
whose hands she had fallen, carried their
prisoner to Luxemburg, where, for ten
thousand livres, they basely sold her to
the English. It is believed that the
French officers, jealous of the glory of
the maid, had designedly exposed her to
this fatal catastrophe. Such is human
gratitude and the fate of merit, and such
the recompense awarded to the benefac-
tors of their species.

The savage triumph of her enemies
on her capture, was the unequivocal eu-
logium of the heroine. Te Deum, a ser-

JOAN OF ARC.

vice so often profaned, was celebrated at
Paris on the event. The courage of the
English, blasted by the successes of Joan,
began, on her imprisonment, to revive.
The Duke of Bedford, instigated by a
policy alike barbarous and disgraceful,
commenced a prosecution against his
magnanimous captive, who, by the cir-
cumstances of her defeat, the gallantry of
her conduct, and her irreproachable life,
was justly entitled to the privileges of a
prisoner of war. Her youth, her sex,
whose appropriate decorum she had
strictly observed, her extraordinary qual-
ities, added to the services she had per-
formed for her country, gave her novel
and singular claims, to which fanaticism
alone could have remained insensible.
Under the sanction of religion, justice
was outraged and humanity violated.

A petition against the maid was pre-
sented by the Bishop of Beauvais, who
was devoted to the cause of the English,
under the pretence that she was taken
within the bounds of his diocese, he re-
quested that she might be delivered over
to the ecclesiastical court, to be tried for
sorcery, impiety, and magic. The Uni-
versity of Paris covered itself with infa-
my* by joining in this petition. The title
of Inquisitor of the Faith was assumed
on the occasion by the Bishop of Beau-
vais.

The court was held at Rouen, where
the young king of England then resided,
and where Joan, loaded with irons, and
clothed in her military apparel, was pro-
duced before this prejudiced tribunal.
She had previously endeavored to pro-
cure her liberty by leaping from the top
of the tower in which she was confined ;
but, stunned by the fall, had been discov-

ered by the sentinel, and retaken. An
accusation of intending suicide, was, on
this justifiable attempt, added to the of-
fences with which the prisoner was
charged. Having requested of her judges
to be eased from her chains, she was re-
proached with her design of escaping.
She boldly avowed and justified the fact,
declaring at the same time, that if she
hesitated to repeat her attempt, it was
only from despair of success. Through-
out her trial, she discovered equal firm-
ness and courage. Being interrogated
respecting the affairs of the court of
France, she refused to reply to the ques-
tions made to her, alleging that where
the secrets of the king were concerned,
she owed no obedience to the ecclesias-
tical powers.

Nearly four months she was con-
tinually harassed by questions and per-
secutions the most ridiculous and ab-
surd. Her enemies termed her a " sor-
ceress and a heretic." The assembled
university, having pronounced her a
schismatic, proceeded to threaten her
with the stake. She was repeatedly ex-
amined respecting her visions, revela-
tions, and intercourse with departed saints,
and required to submit to the church the
truth of her inspirations. "To God,"
she replied, " the fountain of truth, I am
willing to submit them." By this an-
swer, she drew upon herself the charge
of denying the authority of the church.
She appealed from her judges to the
Pope, but her appeal was fruitless.

It was demanded whether she had not
put her trust in a standard consecrated
by magical incantations ? Whether, at
the coronation of Charles, she had not
still displayed this mysterious standard ?

JOAN OF ARC.

109

11 Her trust," she replied, " was in the
image of the Almighty impressed on the
banner, and that she, who had shared the
danger of the field, was entitled to par-
take of the glory at Rheims." Accused
of violating the decorums of her sex, by
assuming the habits and command over
men, she boldly avowed and justified the
purpose of this violation " the defeat of
the enemies of her country, and their ex-
pulsion from the kingdom." During
these examinations, she betrayed no
weakness, nor gave to her persecutors
any advantage ; she disgraced not, when
in the power of her determined adver-
saries, the heroism she had displayed in
the field.

Every species of imposition and base-
ness was practised upon her; she was
required to abjure the masculine habit,
and a paper for this purpose was tender-
ed her to sign, to which a promise was
subjoined never more to bear arms. Hav-
ing complied with this proposition, a new
deed was substituted in its place, in which
she was made to criminate herself by the
most odious and false imputations. The
malice of her enemies, aggravated by su-
perstition, led them to accuse her of va-
rious crimes, particularly of a compact
made with infernal spirits. After hav-
ing received judgment, she was delivered
over for sentence to the secular arm.

Harassed by injustice, exhausted by
suffering, and subdued by cruelty, the
spirit of Joan at length gave way ; brow-
beaten by men of superior rank, con-
demned by those whose injunctions she
had been accustomed to regard as sacred,
basely deserted by the monarch she had
served, sustained no longer by applause
and success, her enthusiasm began to

subside ; the dreams of inspiration were
superseded by the feelings of nature,
while before the terrors of impending
death, the visions of a distempered fancy
faded away. Recanting, she acknow-
ledged that she had been misled by illu-
sions ; which she solemnly engaged
henceforward to renounce, and prayed
to be reconciled to the bosom of the
church. In consequence of this humili-
ation, her sentence was mitigated to per-
petual imprisonment.

No steps were taken by Charles to
rescue from destruction the deliverer of
himself and the saviour of his dominions ;
nor, while he held in his hands, as pris-
oners of war, English of the first dis-
tinction, were any proposals offered to
exchange them for the heroic Joan : a
memorable example of the gratitude of
princes.

Political vengeance might here have
ceased ; but the malignity of the adver-
saries of the unfortunate Joan, was not
yet fully glutted barbarous and insa-
tiable, they thirsted for her blood ! Hav-
ing consented to abjure the masculine
habit, and to assume the habits and at-
tire of her sex, it was determined to
tempt her to a violation of her engage-
ment. For that purpose a suit of men's
apparel was placed in her room, and
spies were appointed to observe her con-
duct. Whether the sight of a dress as-
sociated with so many flattering, so many
glorious ideas, induced her to re-assume
it, or whether, as has been alleged, her
own clothes were removed while she
slept, and were designedly withheld
from her, is of little moment ; certain it
is, that she was tempted in the solitude
of her prison, to array herself in the for-

110

JOAN OF ARC.

bidden garb. Seized by her treacherous
enemies in this situation, and declared
.guilty of a relapse into heresy, she was
-excommunicated, and all pardon, and all
mercy refused to her. Crowned with a
paper, on which was inscribed the terms
" apostate, heretic, and idolatress," and
guarded by armed soldiers, she was soon
after delivered over to the stake, which
had been erected for the purpose in the
market-place of Rouen.

On the right hand of the scaffold, on
which she was exposed to the savage
fury of the people, were stationed the
clergy, and on the left, the secular offi-
cers. In this situation, she was with
solemn mockery, interrogated on the
principles of her faith ; principles, which
in no respect appeared to differ from those
of her merciless persecutors. A dis-
course was pronounced by Nicholas Midi,
towards the conclusion of the ceremony,
in which the poor culprit was informed
that " the meek, and merciful ministers
of the Gospel had, for the execution of
their sentence, consigned her over to the
secular powers."

The bailli of Rouen, less firm than the
preacher, could only say, " Let it be."
The tears of Joan even softened the exe-
cutioner, while the theologians, incapable
of the weakness of humanity, remained
firm and unmoved. "Dieu soit bene /"
" Blessed be God !" exclaimed the suf-
ferer, as she placed herself upon the pile.
Her body was quickly consumed, and
her ashes were scattered to the winds.
Thus perished this admirable woman,
June 14, 1431, to whom "the more lib-
eral and generous superstition of the an-
cients would have erected altars." Thus
were the services rendered by Joan to her

ungrateful prince and country ultimately
rewarded.

The following character of the maid
of Orleans, from Fuller, is to be found
in the preface to Mr. Southey's Joan of
Arc. " People found out a nest of mira-
cles in her education, that so lion-like a
spirit should be bred among sheep like
David. Even after she went in man's
clothing, being armed cap-a-pie, and
mounted on a brave steed ; and which was
a wonder, when she was on horseback,
none was more bold and daring ; when
alighted, none more tame and meek ; so
that one could scarce see her for herself,
she was so changed and altered, as if
her spirits dismounted with her body."

Some years after her decease, Joan
was, by a bull of Pope Calixtus III., de-
clared a martyr to her religion, her coun-
try, and her king. She is made by
Chapelain the subject of a French epic
poem, entitled La Pucelle.

A BLACKSMITH'S SHOP IN THE WEST.
Some years ago a man was travelling in
the western country, when one of his
horse's shoes being loose, he inquired of
a person he met in the woods, if there
was a blacksmith in those parts. " Yes,
stranger," was the reply. " Will you di-
rect me to his shop ? " said the traveller.
" You are in it now ! " said the other.
" In it now ! " said the stranger ; " but my
friend without joking where shall I
find the blacksmith ? " " Four miles off,"
was the reply. " I do not understand
you," said the horseman. " Well, stran-
ger," said the woodsman, " I will tell you
all about it. The blacksmith's shop is
all out of doors, but his anvil is at the
cross road, four miles ahead."

THE AMERICAN PANTHER.

Ill

The American Panther,

THIS animal has as many names as
any other felon that ever figured in
history. He is called the "American
Lion," the " American Panther," the
"Puma," the "Cougar," the "Cata-
mount," and the " Painter." The real
fact is, that he is a creature peculiar to
this continent, and is neither a lion, nor
a panther, nor anything indeed, but him-
self an independent member of the
great family of cats, roaming over the
woods of both North and South America,
and always doing business on his own
hook. He is a creature of great strength,
being able to carry off a sheep or deer
at a gallop ; but he prefers rather to
live by his wit than his power. He al-
ways creeps upon his victim with a sly
and noiseless step, and when at a proper
distance, rushes upon it with a bound,
and grapples it with his formidable
claws and teeth.

The panther was once common in
New England, but he does not like

meeting-houses and taverns, so he has
emigrated westward. The traveller in
the western wilds will often hear a noise
that seems like the wailing of a child ;
but after a little examination, 'he will
find it to proceed from a reddish gray
animal in the top of a tree, looking down
at him with anxious eyes, and seeming
to say, " If it 's all the same to you, I
should like to make a supper of you or
your horse."

A great many adventures have taken
place with this creature in the woods.
Here are some of the stories told of it.

" Two hunters, accompanied by two
dogs, went out in quest of game near
the Catskill mountains. At the foot of
a large hill, they agreed to go round it
in opposite directions, and when either
discharged his rifle, the other was to
hasten towards him to aid in securing
the game. Soon after parting, the re-
port of a rifle was heard by one of them,
who, hastening towards the srtot. after

112

THE AMERICAN PANTHER.

some search, found nothing but the dog,
dreadfully lacerated and dead. He now
became much alarmed for the fate of his
companion, and while anxiously looking
around, was horror-struck by the harsh
growl of a Cougar, which he perceived
on a large limb of a tree, crouching upon
the body of his friend, and apparently
meditating an attack on himself. In-
stantly he levelled his rifle at the beast,
and was so fortunate as to wound it mor-
tally, when it fell to the ground along
with the body of his slaughtered com-
panion. His dog then rushed upon the
wounded Cougar, which with one blow
of its paw laid the poor animal dead by
its side. The surviving hunter now left
the spot, and quickly returned with sev-
eral other persons, when they found the
lifeless Cougar extended near the dead
bodies of the hunter and the faithful
dogs."

" About the close of the last war, a
merchant of Piqua, named Herse, receiv-
ed a considerable sum of money in small
bills, which made it appear of still great-
er magnitude to several suspicious look-
ing persons who were present when it
was received. Mr. Herse, being unarm-
ed, was apprehensive that an attempt
would be made to rob him at the camp-
ing ground, and expressed his appre-
hensions to a single fellow-traveller, who
was also unprovided with arms. In con-
sequence, they resolved not to go to the
camping ground, but to pass the night
in the woods without fire ; there, turning
their horses loose, they lay down in their
blankets on the leaves. In the night
they were aroused by hearing the horses
snort as they are apt to do on the ap-
proach of Indians, and shortly after they

were heard to make several bounds
through the woods, as if some one had
unsuccessfully attempted to catch them.

" After some time had elapsed, they
both distinctly heard what they supposed
to be a man crawling towards them on his
hands and feet, as they could hear 'first
one hand cautiously extended and press-
ed very gently on the leaves to avoid
making a noise, then the other, and
finally the other limbs in like manner
and with equal care. When they be-
lieved that this felonious visitor was
within about ten feet of them, they
touched each other, sprang up simul-
taneously, and rushed to some distance
through the woods, where they crouched
and remained without further disturb-
ance. A short time after they heard the
horses snorting and bounding furiously
through the woods, but they did not ven-
ture to arise until broad daylight, being
still ignorant of the character of their
enemy.

"When sufficiently light to see, by
climbing a sapling they discovered the
horses at a considerable distance on the
prairie. On approaching them, it was
at once evident that their disturber had
been nothing less than a Cougar. It
had sprung upon the horses, and so lace-
rated with its claws and teeth their flanks
and buttocks, that with the greatest diffi-
culty were they able to drive the poor
reatures before them to Shane's. Sev-
ral other instances of annoyance to
travellers had happened at the same
place, and Shane believed by the same
Cougar."

Notwithstanding the ferocious dispo-
sition and bad reputation of the panther
in his wild and natural state, he can be

LOVEWELL'S WAR.

113

taught better manners, and it is by no
means uncommon to see them around
the houses in South America, quite gen-
tle and well-behaved a fact which strik-
ingly displays the power of education.
I have known boys almost as wild as
panthers, rendered tame and dutiful by
a little birch and a great deal of kind-
ness. Recommending this moral to
schoolmasters, parents, and guardians,
we bid good-bye to the panther, only
adding that the history of great rascals
may sometimes teach us a good lesson.

Lovewell's War,

(Continued from page 76.)

IROOPS were raised and enlisted for
two years' service, and the gov-
ernment had no scruples in offering
a bounty of forty pounds sterling for
every Indian scalp. This war obtained
the name of "Lovewell's War," from
Captain John Lovewell, of Dunstable, in
New Hampshire, who was the most prom-
inent commander in the enterprise against
the enemy, and was killed in a severe
engagement. Various incursions were
made upon the settlements by the Indians
during the year 1723, and several of the
inhabitants were killed and carried into
captivity. On the 10th of June, 1724, a
farmer and his son, being at work on
Oyster River, planting corn, went to a
brook to drink, and discovered three In-
dian packs. They immediately ran to give
information to a company of volunteers,
which had lately been raised in the neigh-
borhood, for the defence of the frontier.
The company marched towards the spot,
but were fired upon from an ambush, and

VOL. VIII. 8

the farmer and his son, who acted as
guides, were both killed. The company
then fired and killed one of the Indians,
and wounded two others who made their
escape, though they were pursued and
tracked by their blood to a considerable
distance. The slain Indian was a per-
son of distinction, and wore a species of
coronet, made of fur, dyed scarlet, with
an appendage of four small bells, by the
sound of which the others might follow
him through the thickets. His hair, con-
trary to what is almost universal among
the natives, was remarkably soft and
fine ; and he had about him a devotional
book, and a muster-roll of one hundred
and eighty Indians. From these various
circumstances, it was supposed that he
was a natural son of the Jesuit, Rasle, by
an Indian woman, who served him as a
domestic.

Garrison-houses were built among the
frontier settlements, to which the inhab-
itants were warned to repair in time of
danger. At Dover there were many
families of Quakers, who, doubting the
lawfulness of war, could not be persuaded
to use any means for their defence, al-
though the Indians never spared them
on that account. One of these, John
Hanson, lived remote from the garrison,
and refused to take shelter in it with his
family, although he had a large number
of children. A party of thirteen Indians,
called French Mohawks, had marked
his house for their prey, and lay several
days in ambush, waiting for an opportu-
nity to attack it. On the 27th of June,
while Hanson and his eldest daughter
were gone to attend the weekly meeting,
and his two eldest sons were at work in
a meadow at some distance, the Indians

314

LOVE WELL'S WAR.

entered the house, killed and scalped two
small children, and took his wife, with her
infant of fourteen days old, her nurse, two
daughters, and a son, and, after rifling
the house, carried them off. This was
done so suddenly and secretly, that the
first person who discovered it was the
eldest daughter, on her return from the
meeting. Seeing the two children dead
at the door, she uttered a shriek of dis-
tress, which was distinctly heard by her
mother, then in the hands of the enemy
among the bushes, and by her brothers in
the meadow. The people, being soon
alarmed, went in pursuit of the enemy ;
but the Indians, cautiously avoiding all
beaten paths, went off with their captives
undiscovered. The mother, though of a
tender constitution, had a firm and vigor-
ous mind, and passed through the various
hardships of an Indian captivity with
much resolution and patience. When
her milk failed, she supported her infant
with water warmed in her mouth, till the
squaws taught her to beat the kernel of
walnuts and boil it with bruised corn,
which proved a nourishing food for the
babe. The prisoners were all sold to the
French in Canada. Hanson redeemed
them the following year, one daughter
remaining behind.

These and other outrages of the ene-
my caused the government of Massachu-
setts to resolve on an expedition against
the Indian town of Norridgewock. Two
hundred men, under Captains Moulton
and Harmon, marched from York in Au-
gust. They left forty of their men at Te-
conic Falls, on the Kennebec, and, divid-
ing the remainder into two bodies, one of
them, under Harmon, took a circuitous
route, hoping to surprise some of the ene-

my in their cornfields, while the other,
under Moulton, marched directly for the
village of Norridgewock, which, being
surrounded by trees, could not be seen till
they were close upon it. All the Indians
were in their wigwams, and the English
advanced cautiously and in perfect si-
lence. When they had approached very
near, an Indian came out of his wigwam,
and, discovering the English, set up the
war-whoop, ran in, and seized his gun. In
a few minutes the warriors were all in.
arms, and advanced to meet them. Moul-
ton gave orders not to fire till the Indians
had made their first discharge. This was
done, and, as he expected, they overshot
the English, who then immediately fired
with great execution. After another vol-
ley had been exchanged, the savages
fled with precipitation to the river. They
were pursued and slaughtered in every
quarter, and their wigwams set on fire.
Moulton wished to take Rasle alive, and
gave strict orders that no one should kill
him. But the Jesuit having shut himself
up in his house, from which he continued
to fire upon the English, one of them
burst into it, and shot him through the
head. They then set fire to the church,
which was a handsome structure, and
brought away the plate and furniture of
the altar, with the devotional banner,
as trophies of their victory. Eighty of
the Indians were killed in this attack, and
three English captives rescued.

The fate of Norridgewock struck
great terror into the savages, and they
no longer thought themselves safe at
any of their former places of abode,
but occupied them as resting-places only,
when they were scouting or hunting.
This successful undertaking, and the

LOVEWELL'S WAR.

115

large premium offered for scalps, brought
several volunteer companies into the field.
In December, Captain Lovewell, with
thirty men, made an excursion to the
north of Lake Winnipiseogee. They
discovered an Indian wigwam, in which
were a man and a boy. They killed
and scalped the man, and brought the boy
alive to Boston, where they received the
reward promised by the government, and a
considerable gratuity besides. This com-
pany was soon increased to seventy, and
Lovewell marched again, early in 1725,
toward the head of Salmon-Fall River.
Their provision falling short, thirty of
them, selected by lot, were dismissed, and
returned home. The remaining forty
continued their march till the 20th of
February, when they discovered a track,
which they followed till they saw a
smoke, just before sunset ; from this they
judged that the enemy were encamped
for the night. They kept themselves con-
cealed till after midnight, when they cau-
tiously advanced, and discovered ten In-
dians asleep round a fire, by the side of
a frozen pond. Lovewell now deter-
mined to make sure work, and, stationing
his men conveniently, ordered five of
them to fire in rapid succession, and the
remainder to reserve their shot. He
gave the signal by discharging his own
gun, which killed two Indians ; and the
men, firing according to order, despatched
five more on the spot. The remaining
three started up from their sleep, but two
of them were immediately shot dead by
the reserve, and the other was wounded.
He attempted to escape across the pond,
but was seized by a dog, who held him
fast until the English came up and dis-
patched him. Thus, in the space of a few

minutes, the whole party was destroyed,
and an attempt against the frontiers of
New Hampshire prevented ; for these
Indians were marching from Canada, well
furnished with new guns and plenty of
ammunition for that object ; they had also
a number of spare blankets, moccasons,
and snow-shoes, for the use of the prison-
ers whom they expected to take. The
pond near which these events transpired
is now known as Lovewell's Pond. The
company, with their ten scalps stretched
on hoops, in the Indian fashion, marched
to Boston in great triumph, and received
their bounty out of the public treasury.
The English spoke of this enterprise
with great exultation, and pronounced it
a capital exploit. In the light of the
present day, the barbarity of giving a
premium for scalps would be justly cen-
sured.

This brilliant success, as it was then
termed, encouraged Lovewell to his last
and fatal undertaking. Early in March,
he again took the field, intending to
attack the Indian villages of Piguacket,
on the upper part of the Saco, where a
formidable tribe anciently had a settled
habitation, though at this period they
only paid occasional visits there. His
company consisted of forty-six men, in-
cluding a chaplain and a surgeon. Two
of them became lame, and returned.
Another falling sick, they halted, and
built a stockade fort on the west side of
Great Ossipee Lake, partly for the ac-
commodation of the sick man, and partly
for a stronghold in case of any re-
verse. Here the surgeon was left with
the invalid and eight of the com-
pany for a guard. Lovewell, with his
thirty-four men, advanced to the north-

116

LOVEWELL'S WAR.

ward about twenty-two miles, and en-
camped on the shore of a pond in the
evening of the 7th of May. Early the
next morning, while the men were at
prayer, they heard the report of a gun,
and discovered an Indian about a mile
distant, standing on a point of land jut-
ting out into the water. They had been
alarmed during the night by noises
round their camp, which they imagined
were made by Indians, and now sus-
pected that the one whom they saw was
placed there to decoy them, and that a
body of the enemy was in their front.
A council of war was held, and they de-
cided to go forward, and, by marching
round the pond, to gain the spot where
the Indian stood. That they might be
ready for action, they disencumbered
themselves of their packs, and left them,
without any guard, in a pine plain, where
the trees were too thinly set to hide them.
Lovewell, oh his march, had crossed
a carrying-place, by which two parties of
Indians, consisting of forty-one warriors,
commanded by the noted chiefs Paugus
and Wahwa, who had been on a scout
down the Saco, were returning to the
lower village of Piguacket, about a mile
and a half from the pond. Having fall-
en on Lovewell's track, they followed it,
and came at last to the baggage, which
they carried off. On counting the packs,
they found the number of the English to
be less than that of their own force. They
therefore placed themselves in ambush to
attack them on their return. The In-
dian who had stood on the point, and was
turning to the village by another path,
met the English and received their fire,
which he returned, and wounded Love-
well and another person with small shot.

By a second fire the Indian was killed,
and they took his scalp. Seeing no
other enemy, the company returned to-
ward their packs, and, while they were
searching for them, the Indians sprang
from their ambush and ran towards them
with a horrid yell. A smart firing com-
menced on both sides, and Lovewell was
speedily slain, with eight others. Sev-
eral of the Indians fell, but, being su-
perior in numbers, they were by no
means daunted, and endeavored to sur-
round the English, who, perceiving their
design, retreated, hoping to gain a shelter
behind a point of rocks and some large
pine-trees on the shore of the pond.
Here they took their station, having on
their right the mouth of a brook, and on
their left the rocky point, their front be-
ing partly covered by a deep bog, with
the pond in the rear.

The battle now recommenced. The
Indians poured in their fire from front
and flank, and had so much the advan-
tage of position, that, by a little skill,
they might have shot down every man
of the English, or compelled them to
surrender at discretion, as they were to-
tally unable to extricate themselves, and
were entirely destitute of provisions.
Under the conduct of Lieutenant Wy-
man, the latter kept up their fire, and
maintained a resolute countenance the
remainder of the day, the action hav-
ing begun a little after ten in the morn-
ing. The chaplain and three others
were mortally wounded. The Indians
invited them to surrender by holding up
ropes to them, and endeavojed to intimi-
date them by hideous yells; but they
determined to die rather than to yield,
and, by their well-directe.d fire, the num-

LOVEWELL'S WAR.

117

ber of the savages was reduced, and their
cries became fainter, till, just before night,
they quitted their advantageous ground,
carrying off their killed and wounded,
and leaving the dead bodies of Lovewell
and his men unscalped. The shattered
remnants of this brave company, on com-
ing together, found three of their number
unable to move from the spot, eleven
wounded, but able to march, and nine
unhurt. It was melancholy to leave
their dying companions behind, but there
was no possibility of removing them.
One of these, Ensign Robbins, desired
them to lay his gun beside him loaded,
that, if the Indians should return before
his death, he might be able to kill one
more.

After the rising of the moon, those who
were able quitted the fatal spot, and
directed their march toward the fort
where the surgeon and guard had been
left. To their great surprise, they found
it abandoned. In the beginning of the
action, one man had deserted and fled
to the fort, where, in the style of Job's
messengers, he informed them of Love-
well's death and the defeat of the whole
company, upon which they made the
best of their way home, leaving a quan-
tity of provisions, which proved a season-
able relief to the retreating survivors.
From this place they endeavored to get
home. Lieutenant Farwell, and the chap-
lain, who had the journal of the march in
his pocket, and one other, perished in the.
woods, for want of a dressing for their
wounds. The others, after enduring the
most severe hardships, reached the set-
tlements, one after another. There were
no white residents within fifty miles of
the scene of the battle.

A party from the New Hampshire
frontier was ordered out to bury the
dead. Fourteen bodies were found,
which were interred, and their names
carved on the trees. Three Indian
graves were discovered and opened ; one
of them contained the body of the war-
rior-chief, Paugus. Tracks of blood
were traced to a great distance from the
scene of action, but the exact loss of the
enemy never was known. After this
battle, the Indians abandoned the neigh-
borhood of Piguacket, and did not re-
turn till the war was over.

A doggerel ballad, on the subject of
" Lovewell's Fight," made its appear-
ance the same year that these events
happened, and was for a long time very
popular in New England. As the read-
er may wish to see a specimen of it, we
quote the opening stanza, which is as
follows :
" Of worthy Captain Lovewell I purpose now to

sing,
How valiantly he served his country and his

king.
He and his valiant soldiers did range the woods

full wide,

And hardships they endured to quell the In-
dian's pride."

We add the sixteenth stanza, as it
notices a striking circumstance.

" Our worthy Captain Lovewell among them

there did die.
They killed Lieutenant Robbins, and wounded

good young Frye,

Who was our English chaplain ; he many In-
dians slew,
And some of them he scalped, when bullets

round him flew."

The following winter, four chiefs
came to Boston to ratify the treaty which
followed these hostilities. The govern-
ment of the colonies prohibited all pri-

118

THE LION FIGHT.

vate traffic with the Indians, as it had
"been the cause of many troubles. Truck-
houses were established in convenient
places, at which they were supplied with
all the necessaries of life on advanta-
geous terms. Though the government
was a loser by the trade, this was deem-
ed the most economical method of pre-
serving peace, and it seems fully to have
accomplished its purpose.

The natives throughout the New Eng-
land provinces, now thinned and weak-
ened, while the English had gained
strength and extended their settlements
in every direction, made no more serious
attempts upon the peace of the country.
In the French wars, even down to the
period just preceding the Revolution, it
is true that incursions were occasionally
made, but they produced no lasting re-
sults.

There are few Indians now remaining
in the New England States. A small
number of Mohegans still reside in the
vicinity of Norwich, Connecticut, where
they have a neat little church, and a
missionary has labored among them with
some success. A few Penobscot Indians,
too, are found in Maine, and here and
there, in other places, may be met one
or more of the descendants of the abo-
rigines ; but they are like the last scatter-
ed leaves of autumn, withered, decay-
ing, and frozen by the wintry blasts ;
spring finds them not again.

Professor Olmsted says, that a pound
of water, falling over Niagara falls, ac-
quires the force of 6000 pounds !

The Lion Fight

A GERMAN FABLE.

IHE royal spouse of a powerful ruler
of the East, came to him one day,
weeping with indignation, to seek
revenge against a delinquent and
offender of her majesty. Behold, said
she, the criminal brought me an orna-
ment of precious stones, but the jewel
proved to be false. He is already aton-
ing for his deceit in a gloomy cell, but
he shall pay for his wickedness with his
life, I swear it by myself! I demand,
king, that you condemn him to a contest
with a lion.

Oh, let us not judge in passion, re-
plied the monarch. For how can indig-
nation decree justice? It becomes a
prince of the nation to be free from
anger. Is he not the representative and
vicegerent of the Highest ?

Does not God express his anger in the
tempest ? inquired the queen.

No, replied the king ; he displays his
benevolence even in the tempest. Ah,
my beloved, man is too apt to form his
idea of the Eternal from himself.

But the queen's anger increased, and
she said, God also hates and punishes
the delinquent, and he has not given the
sword to kings without a purpose. I
only ask that justice be done the crimi-
nal. His death has been announced to
him. There is no alternative !

Well, said the king, be it so ! To-
morrow !

When, on the following day, the hour
arrived, and the drums proclaimed the
bloody spectacle : the queen arose with a
splendid train, and rejoiced in her heart
at the triumph of her indignation.

BEAR AND CHILD.

119

For revenge is like a cooling cordial
to the burning mind.

The herald opened the lists, the de-
linquent stood there trembling, and the
drums beat again.

But behold, instead of a lion, came a
white harmless lamb, and familiarly ap-
proached the trembling man. The drums
ceased, and the sweet music of harps and
flutes was heard; and the lamb cringed
at the feet of the victim, and looked
mildly in his face.

Then the eyes of the queen rested on
her spouse, and she blushed. But the
king said, That look, my beloved, is an
evidence to me, that I have exercised the
right of retaliation. He who deceived
you is deceived in return, and to you
will be given the noble instead of the
base ! The blush on your cheeks- which
appears to me more beautiful than the
royal purple that adorns you, is also my
reward. For your countenance assures
me that I have acted like the represen-
tative and vicegerent of the Highest !

Then the drums announced the termi-
nation of the spectacle, and the people
cried, Ail hail, our king and queen !

Bear and Child,

IEOPOLD, Duke of Lorraine, had a bear
called Marco, of the sagacity and
generosity of which we have the fol-
lowing remarkable instance. During
the winter of 1709, a Savoyard boy, ready
to perish with cold, in a barn in which
he had been put by a woman with
some more of his companions, thought
proper to enter Marco's hut, without re-
flecting on the danger he incurred in ex-
posing himself to the mercy of the animal
which occupied it.

Marco, however, instead of doing any
injury to the child, took him between
his paws, and warmed him by pressing
him to his breast, until the next morning,
when he suffered him to depart and ram-
ble about the city. The boy returned in
the evening to the hut, and was receiv-
ed with the same affection. For several
days he had no other retreat, and it add-
ed not a little to his joy to perceive that
the bear regularly reserved a part of his
food for him.

A number of days passed in this man-
ner without the servants knowing any-
thing of the circumstance. At length,
one day, when one of them came to
bring the bear his supper rather later
than usual, he was astonished to see the
child quietly asleep, clasped in the paws
of the bear. The animal rolled its eyes
in a furious manner, and seemed desir-
ous that he should make as little noise
as possible, for fear of waking his favor-
ite. The bear, though ravenous, did not
appear in the least moved by the food
which was placed before him.

The report of this extraordinary cir-
cumstance was soon spread at court, and
reached the ears of Leopold ; who, with
some of his courtiers, was desirous of
being satisfied of the truth of Marco's
generosity. Several of them passed the
night near his hut, and beheld with as-
tonishment that the bear never stirred so
long as his guest showed any inclination
to sleep. At break of day, the child
awoke, and was very much ashamed to
find himself discovered, and fearing that
he should be punished for his rashness,
begged pardon. The bear, however,
caressed him, and endeavored to prevail
on him to eat what had been brought
him the evening before, which he did at

120

THE LAST FLOWER OF THE SEASON.

the request of the spectators who con-
ducted him to the prince.

Having learned the whole history of
this singular alliance, and the time which

it had continued, Leopold ordered that
the little Savoyard should he taken care
of; hut unhappily the child died a short
time after.

The Last Flower of the Season,

MARION and her father were walking in
the fields. It was November, and
the sharp frosts had cut down the
flowers. Even the asters were
withered and perished. But the little
girl came at last to a single blossom that
had survived. It was a small and hum-
ble flower, and it grew upon a barren
spot. But it had found shelter between
the stones, and its very obscurity had
been the means of its protection. The
gaudier blossoms around, those that
flourished in the richer -soil and in more
elevated stations had fallen before the
breath of approaching winter. Marion
stooped and plucked the little blossom

that seemed to shine like a gem amid the
desolation around, and her father made
this reflection. " See, Marion, how this
blossom has withstood the frost which
has swept down its more stately com-
panions. It was humble, and therefore
content with a lowly station. This hu-
mility has saved it from destruction. It
is with us, my child, as with the flowers.
The humble and obscure positions of life
are often not only the most quiet, but
also the most safe from the temptations,
sins, and sorrows, which sweep down
those who seek and obtain more am-
bitious situations.

THE CUNNING BEAR.

121

The Cunning Bear,

A FABLE.

AMONG the bears that lived in the woods,
there was one that thought himself
very wise. He was, in fact, very
selfish, and cared for nobody but
himself. I am now going to tell you a sto-
ry, which will show you how the cunning
beast overreached and ruined himself.

In the country of the bears of which I
am speaking, there were a good many
Indians. These had set a trap so con-
trived that if a bear should attempt to get
the bait, a heavy stone would fall upon
his back and crush him.

The bait consisted of a nice leg of ven- '
ison, and as one of the bears came that
way, its delicious flavor attracted his at-
tention. He approached cautiously, and
perceived that the meat was only the bait
of a trap. He went and told what he
had discovered to some of his companions,

and quite a company of bears assembled
to take the subject into consideration.

Among the rest was our cunning bear.
He listened to the various observations of
his friends, and finally, assuming a grave
and honest look, he rose upon his hind
legs, stretched forth his right paw, and
spoke as follows :

" My dear friends, allow me to address
you : this piece of meat is placed here
to tempt you into the trap ; be not de-
ceived, and risk not your lives for a mo-
mentary gratification. What folly would
it be for you, or any other bear, to pur-
chase pleasure at so high a price. Lis-
ten to the words of wisdom : let us all
depart, and disappoint the schemes of
our deceitful enemies ! "

This counsel seemed very wise, and
being uttered with a benignant counte*

122

THE TIGER'S CAVE.

nance and an air of great sincerity, made
a deep impression. Accordingly, the
whole troop dispersed, and went their
several ways into the wood.

But the cunning bear had spoken for
others rather than himself. No sooner
was the coast clear, than he turned a
short corner, and went slily back to
the leg of venison. " Now," said he,
" that I have got rid of my neighbors, I '11
have a feast all to myself. I 'm not
afraid of the trap. I 've cheated these
Indians many a time. I know how to
slip off the meat without springing the
trap. What fools there are in the world !
These savages catch the deer, and these
silly bears leave it for the wise ones. I
know a thing or two. Fools kill, and the
wise ones eat, the venison."

With these reflections, our hero step-
ped slily into the mouth of the trap. He
put up his nose very gently, and fixed
his teeth in the haunch of venison. He
then gave it a gentle pull, and it was
nearly free, when the trap sprung, and
the enormous stone came down upon
Bruin's back with a tremendous crash !

The poor beast struggled, and groan-
ed, and growled terribly, but all in vain.
At last he expired, making this reflec-
tion, " After all, I do not see that we
cunning people are any better off than
anybody else. Soon or late we over-
reach ourselves, and perish with the
miserable consciousness that we deserve
our doom."

RECENT experiments have shown the
velocity of electricity to be 576,000 miles
in a second. At this rate it would per-
form the circuit of the earth three times
in the twinkling of an eye '

The Tiger's Cave.

AN ADVENTURE AMONG THE MOUNTAINS
OF QUITO.

N leaving the Indian village, we con-
tinued to wind round Chimborazo's
wide base; but its snow-crowned
head no longer shone above us in
clear brilliancy, for a dense fog was gath-
ering gradually around it. Our guides
looked anxiously towards it, and announ-
ced their apprehensions of a violent storm.
We soon found that their fears were well
founded. The thunder began to roll,
and resounded through the mountainous
passes with the most terrific grandeur.
Then came the vivid lightning ; flash fol-
lowing flash above, around, beneath,
everywhere a sea of fire. We sought
a momentary shelter in the cleft of the
rocks, whilst one of our guides hastened
forward to seek a more secure asylum.
In a short time he returned and informed
us that he had discovered a spacious cav-
ern, which would afford us sufficient pro-
tection from the elements. We proceeded
thither immediately, and with great diffi-
culty and some danger at last got into it.
W T hen the storm had somewhat abated,
our guides ventured out to ascertain if it
were possible to continue our journey.
The cave in which we had taken refuge,
was so extremely dark, that, if we moved
a few paces from the entrance, we could
not see an inch before us ; and we were
debating as to the propriety of leaving
it, even before the Indians came back,
when we suddenly heard a singular
groaning or growling in the farther end
of the cavern, which instantly fixed all
our attention. Wharton and myself lis-
tened anxiously, but our inconsiderate

THE TIGER'S CAVE.

123

young friend Lincoln, together with my
huntsman, crept about on their hands
and knees, and endeavored to discover,
by groping, whence the sound proceeded.

They had not advanced far into the
cavern, before we heard them utter an
exclamation of surprise ; and they re-
turned to us, each carrying in his arms,
an animal singularly marked, about the
size of a cat, seemingly of great strength
and power, and furnished with immense
fangs. The eyes were of a green color ;
strong claws were upon their feet ; and
a blood red tongue hung out of their
mouths. Wharton had scarcely glanced
at them, when he exclaimed in conster-
nation, " We have come into the den of
a ." He was interrupted by a fear-
ful cry of dismay from our guides, who
came rushing precipitately towards us,
calling out, " A tiger, a tiger ! " and, at
the same time, with extraordinary rapid-
ity, they climbed up a cedar tree which
stood at the entrance of the cave, and
hid themselves among the branches.

After the first sensation of horror and
surprise, which rendered me motionless
for a moment, had subsided, I grasped
my fire-arms. Wharton had already re-
gained his composure and self-posses-
sion ; and he called to us to assist in
blocking up the mouth of the cave with
an immense stone which fortunately lay
near it. The sense of imminent danger
augmented our strength ; for we now
distinctly heard the growl of the ferocious
animal, and we were lost beyond re-
demption, if he reached the entrance be-
fore we could get it closed. Ere this
was done we could distinctly see the
tiger bounding towards the spot, and
stooping in order to creep into his den by

the narrow opening. At this fearful mo-
ment, our exertions were successful, and
the great stone kept the wild beast at
bay.

There was a small open space, how-
ever, left between the top of the entrance
and the stone, through which we could
see the head of the animal, illuminated
by his glowing eyes, which he rolled
glaring with fury upon us. His fright-
ful roaring, too, penetrated to the depths
of the cavern, and was answered by the
hoarse growling of the cubs. Our fero-
cious enemy attempted first to remove
the stone with his powerful claws, and
then to push it with his head from its
place ; and these efforts proving abort-
ive, served only to increase his wrath.
He uttered a tremendous heart-piercing
growl, and his flaming eyes darted light
into the darkness of our retreat.

" Now is the time to fire at him," said
Wharton, with his usual calmness ; " aim
at his eyes ; the ball will go through his
brain, and we shall then have a chance
to get rid of him."

Frank seized his double-barrelled gun
and Lincoln his pistols. The former
placed the muzzle within a few inches
of the tiger, and Lincoln did the same.
At Wharton's command they both drew
their triggers at the same moment ; but
no shot followed. The tiger, who seemed
aware that the flash indicated an attack
upon him, sprang growling from the en-
trance, but finding himself unhurt, imme-
diately turned back, and stationed him-
self in his former place. The powder in
both pieces was wet.

" All is now over," said Wharton ;
" we have only now to choose whether
we shall die of hunger, together with

124

THE TIGER'S CAVE.

these animals who are shut up along
with us, or open the entrance to the blood
thirsty monster without, and so make a
quicker end of the matter."

So saying, he placed himself close be-
side the stone, which for the moment de-
fended us, and looked undauntedly upon
the lightning eyes of the tiger. Lincoln
raved, and Frank took a piece of strong
cord from his pocket and hastened to the
further end of the cave, I knew not with
what design. We soon, however, heard
a low, stifled groaning ; the tiger, which
had heard it also became more restless
and disturbed than ever. He went back-
wards and forwards, before the entrance
of the cave, in the most wild and impetu-
ous manner ; then stood still, and stretch-
ing out his neck towards the forest, broke
forth into a deafening howl.

Our two Indian guides took advantage
of this opportunity, to discharge several
arrows from the tree ; but the light wea-
pons bounded back harmless from his
thick skin. At length, however, one of
them struck him near the eye, and the
arrow remained sticking in the wound.
He now broke anew into the wildest fury,
sprang at the tree and tore it with his
claws as if he would have dragged it to
the ground. But having at length suc-
ceeded in getting rid of the arrow, he
became more calm, and laid himself
down, as before, in front of the cave.

Frank now returned from the lower
end of the den, and a glance showed us
what he had been doing. In each hand,
and dangling from the end of a string,
were the two cubs. He had strangled
them, and, before we were aware what
he intended, he threw them through the
opening to the tiger. No sooner did the

animal perceive them, than he gazed
earnestly upon them, and began to ex-
amine them closely, turning them cau-
tiously from side to side. As soon as he
became aware that they were dead, he
uttered so piercing a howl of sorrow,
that we were obliged to put our hands to
our ears.

The thunder had now ceased, and the
storm had sunk to a gentle gale; the
songs of the birds were again heard in
the neighboring forest, and the sunbeams
sparkled in the drops that hung from the
leaves. We saw, through the aperture,
how all nature was reviving, after the
wild war of elements, which had so re-
cently taken place ; but the contrast only
made our situation the more horrible.
The tiger had laid himself down beside
his whelps. He was a beautiful animal,
of great size and strength ; and his limbs
being stretched out at their full length,
displayed his immense power of muscle.
A double row of great teeth stood far
enough apart to show his large red
tongue, from which the white foam fell
in large drops.

All at once, another roar was heard at
a distance, and the tiger immediately
rose and answered it with a mournful
howl. At the same instant, our Indians
uttered a shriek, which announced that
some new danger threatened us. A few
moments confirmed our worst fears ; for
another tiger, not quite so large as the
former, came rapidly towards the spot
where we were.

The howls which the tigress gave,
when she had examined the bodies of
her cubs, surpassed everything of horri-
ble that \ve had yet heard ; and the tiger
mingled his mournful cries with hers.

THE TIGER'S CAVE.

125

Suddenly her roaring was lowered to a
hoarse growling, and we saw her anx-
iously stretch out her head, extend her
wide and smoking nostrils, and look as if
she were determined to discover imme-
diately the murderers of her young. Her
eyes quickly fell upon us, and she made
a spring forward, with the intention of
penetrating our place of refuge. Per-
haps she might have been enabled, by
her immense strength, to push away the
stone, had we not, with all our united
power, held it against her.

When she found that all her efforts
were fruitless, she approached the tiger,
who lay stretched out beside his cubs,
and he rose and joined in her hollow
roarings. They stood together for a few
moments, as if in consultation, and then
suddenly went off at a rapid pace, and
disappeared from our sight. Their howl-
ings died away in the distance, and then
entirely ceased.

Our Indians descended from their tree,
and called upon us to seize the only pos-
sibility of yet saving ourselves, by in-
stant flight, for that the tigers had only
gone round the height to seek another
inlet into the cave, with which they were
no doubt acquainted. In the greatest
haste the stone was pushed aside, and
we stepped forth from what we had con-
sidered a living grave. We now heard
once more the roaring of the tigers,
though at a distance, and, following the
example of our guides, we precipitately
struck into a side path. From the num-
ber of roots and branches of trees, with
which the storm had strewed our way,
and the slipperiness of the road, our
flight was slow and difficult.

We had proceeded thus for about a

quarter of an hour, when we found that
our way led along a rocky cliff, with in-
numerable fissures. We had just en-
tered upon it, when suddenly the Indians,
who were before us, uttered one of their
piercing shrieks, and we immediately be-
came aware that the tigers were in pur-
suit of us. Urged by despair, we rushed
towards one of the breaks, or gulfs in our
way, over which was thrown a bridge
of reeds, that sprang up and down at
every step, and could be trod with safety
by the light foot of the Indians alone.
Deep in the hollow below rushed an im-
petuous stream, and a thousand pointed
and jagged rocks threatened destruction
on every side.

Lincoln, my huntsman, and myself
passed over the chasm in safety, but
Wharton was still in the middle of the
waving bridge, and endeavoring to steady
himself, when both the tigers were seen
to issue from the adjoining forest ; and
the moment they descried us, they bound-
ed towards us with dreadful roarings.
Meanwhile, Wharton had nearly gained
the safe side of the gulf, and we were
all clambering up the rocky cliff, except
Lincoln, who remained at the reedy
bridge, to assist his friend to step upon
firm ground. Wharton, though the fe-
rocious animals were close upon him,
never lost his courage or presence of
mind. As soon as he had gained the
edge of the cliff, he knelt down, and with
his sword divided the fastenings by
which the bridge was attached to the rock.

He expected that an effectual barrier
would thus be put to the further progress
of our pursuers ; but he was mistaken ;
for he had scarcely accomplished his task,
when the tigress, without a moment's

126

THK INGENIOUS CRICKET.

pause, rushed towards the chasm, and
attempted to bound over it. It was a
fearful sight to see the mighty animal
suspended for a moment in the air, above
the abyss ; but the scene passed like a
flash of lightning. Her strength was
not equal to the distance ; she fell into
the gulf, and, before she reached the
bottom, was torn into a thousand pieces
by the jagged points of the rocks.

Her fate did not in the least dismay
her companion ; he followed her with
an immense spring, and reached the op-
posite side, but only with his fore claws ;
and thus he clung to the edge of the pre-
cipice, endeavoring to gain a footing.
The Indians again uttered a wild shriek,
as if all hope had been lost.

But Wharton, who was nearest the
edge of the rock, advanced courageously
towards the tiger, and struck his sword
into the animal's breast. Enraged be-
yond all measure, the wild beast collect-
ed all his strength, and, with a violent
effort, fixing one of his hind legs upon
the cliff, he seized Wharton by the thigh.
That heroic man still preserved his for-
titude ; he grasped the trunk of a tree
with his left hand, to steady and support
himself, while with his right hand he
wrenched and violently turned the sword,
that was still in the breast of the tiger.
All this was the work of an instant.
The Indians, Frank, and myself hastened
to his assistance ; but Lincoln, who was
already at his side, had seized Wharton's
gun, which lay near upon the ground,
and struck so powerful a blow with the
but-end upon the head of the tiger, that
the animal, stunned and overpowered,
let go his hold and fell back into the
abyss. Edinburgh Literary Journal.

The Ingenious Cricket,

N the mountains of Malacca there is a
species of cricket, which makes a loud

1 noise with its wings at certain sea-
sons, probably to attract its mate. Not
content with the simple sound which it
can produce by a natural action, it is said
to resort to an exceedingly curious acous-
tic contrivance to increase it. In the
sides of a hole which it forms in the
earth, large enough to contain its body,
it hollows out seven small tunnels, which,
diverging from that common centre, and
penetrating towards the surface of the
ground, at length open above in a circle
of a palm's breadth in diameter. These
cylindrical apertures, being made quite
smooth within, expand towards the top,
where each may be half an inch wide,
like so many minute speaking-trumpets.
The insect then taking its stand in the
central cavity which communicates with
these, and there exercising its fairy min-
strelsy, the sound passes through each
tube ; and, whatever be the use of this
peculiar structure, the tiny musician
within makes hill-side and thicket ring
with the chirping din which he emits
from it. Bennet and Tyerman.

The Power of Bees,

THE following incident is related in an
English paper. One day, a horse
belonging to a farmer strayed from
his yard into an adjoining garden
belonging to a Mrs. Cox, and kicked
down a hive of bees, which instantly at-
tacked him with great fierceness. The
poor horse kicked and plunged violently,
and a man named Blunt, who happened

HYMN OUR CORRESPONDENCE

127

to be in Mrs. Cox's house, went out to
his rescue. He succeeded in getting
hold of the horse, but had scarcely done
so, when the bees attacked him, covering
his head and face, and every exposed
part of his body. It was in vain he
strove to beat them off. Wet cloths
were thrown over him, and other means
were resorted to, but it was a long time
before the enemy left him. The unfor-
tunate man was conveyed to his house,
but died on his way thither, within ten
minutes of the attack. The horse died
the next evening. The deceased left
several children to lament his untimely
end.

HYMN.

I KNOW, when I lie down to sleep,

That God is near my bed ;
That angels watch by his command

Around my infant head.

I know, when I kneel down to pray,

That still my God is there ;
He hears my words, he sees my thoughts,

And will accept my prayer.

I know when I go forth to play,

That God is by my side ;
Through every hour, at every step,

He is my guard and guide.

I know his eye sees everything

In earth, and sea and air ;
That he, in darkness as in light,

Can see me everywhere.

Then let me guard each thought, each word,

Lest he should chance to find
Evil within a heart that should

Be gentle, meek, and kind.

Our Correspondence,

WE have this month to acknowledge the re-
ceipt of letters from M. G. D. ; J. B., of Prince-
ton ; S , of Cambridge; and W. H. S., of

Portsmouth. The following, from the latter
place, we insert with pleasure.

Portsmouth, Sept. 3, 1844.

MR. MERRY :

DEAR SIR, I have begun to take your books,
and have just received the back numbers, and
thus far I feel a great interest in them ; and, as
you have had but a few puzzles in the late num-
bers, you would oblige me very much if you
would publish the following enigma. We are
good hands down here for puzzles, and would
like to get hold of one that would stick us. If
you can find one of this kind, we wish you to
publish it. I send you the following

PUZZLE.

I am composed of twenty letters.

My 12, 16 and 19, is part of the body.

My 15, 4, 20, 9, 3 and 17, is in every house.

My 10, 9, 6, 10, 8 and 18, has no particular
home.

My 5, 4, 16 and 7. is part of a factory.

My 3, 15, 13 and 4, is a return.

My 5, 16, 11, 6, 4 and 18, is a city in Europe

My 17, 8, 15, 4, 16 and 11, is an animal.

My 7, 8, 20, 15 and 13, comes every spring.

My 2, 8, 10 and is numbered.

My 1, 14, 8 and 17, is to take a part.

My whole is a part of the contents of Merry's
Museum. H. R. B.

THE following letter will probably elicit the
thanks of our readers, as it does ours. We
shall certainly comply with the request, in our
next number.

NaticK, September 25th.

MR. MERRY :

There is a great deal said about Texas in
the newspapers, and both whiss and democrats
are making a great many speeches about it. I
should like, myself, to know more about it than
I do ; what sort of a country it is how large
how many people there are how they live
what the climate and productions are. If
you could give us a short account of these
things, I think it would be acceptable to your
readers. Yours, N. C.

128

NOVEMBER IN LONDON THE MOON.

November in London,

No sun no moon !

No morn no noon
No dawn no dusk no proper time of day

No sky no earthly view

No distance looking blue
No road no street no t'other side the way

No end to any row

No indications where the crescents go

No top to any steeple
No recognitions of familiar people

No courtesies for showing ? em

No knowing 'em !

No travelling at all no locomotion
No inkling of the way no motion
" No go," by land or ocean
No mail no post
No news from any foreign coast-
No park no ring no afternoon gentility

No company no nobility
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease

No comfortable feel in any member
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,

No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds
November !

The Moon,

MUSIC COMPOSED TOR MERRY'S MUSEUM, BY GEORGE J. WEBB.

Who am I that shine so bright, With my pret-ty yel - low light,

Peeping through your curtains grey ? Tell me, lit - tie child, I pray.

When the sun is gone I rise
In the very silent skies ;
And a cloud or two doth skim
Round about my silver rim.

All the little stars do seem
Hidden by my brighter beam,

And among them I do ride,
Like a queen in all her pride.

Little child, consider well
Who this simple tale doth tell ;
And I think you 7 11 guess it soon,
For I only am the Moon.

MERRY'S MUSEUM,

Vol. VIII.

NOVEMBER, 1844,

No. 5.

THE trees to the blast have surrendered their
leaves,

The beauties of summer have fled;
The warblers departed for sunnier climes,

The herbage is withered and dead.

The chill wintry blast shall resound through

the woods,

The skies with rude storms shall be rife ;
But spring will return and again clothe the

trees,
The landscape will glow with new life.

ACCORDING to a French novelist, No-
vember is the gloomy month, in
which " the people of England hang
and drown themselves." There is
VOL. vin. 9

something rather sober in the departure
of all those interesting charms that have
so attached us to summer and the early
autumn, yet we can hardly say that there
is anything gloomy about it. A pensive,
yet pleasing melancholy, is perhaps the
predominant feeling in contemplating the
changes that take place as the autumn
sullenly resigns the year to winter. We
have seen the fields stripped of their
crops, and the woods of their luxuriant
foliage ; and now that the great purposes
of the season are accomplished, it is not
with repining or regret, that we see

130

NOVEMBER.

exhausted nature about to take a short
repose.

We have been delighted with the mu-
sic of the fields and groves, we have ad-
mired the springing plants and expand-
ing flowers ; now our enjoyments are
about to be somewhat of a different kind,
though they may still be closely connected
with the mysterious operations of slum-
bering nature; we may still study her
work with scarce less interest than when
her utmost energies are put forth to the
work of spring and summer seasons.
Let the Englishman hang or drown, if
his fancy inclines that way ; for myself,
there is much in the gloorn of winter
which I could yet wish to enjoy for years
to come. There are the hard frosts,
Avhich show an autumn morning with
every twig and every blade of grass,
every vegetable fibre, houses, rocks, and
fences, coated with a thick covering of
alabaster, like ice, converting shrubs and
thick-clustering weeds into most gor-
geous chandeliers ; there are the winter
sunshine and storms, and the winter-
evening fireside. There is the promise
and hope of the future year ; and above
all, there is the contemplation of the
power and goodness of Him who has fur-
nished the earth in all the beauty and
riches of the seasons, for the comfort and
happiness of his creatures.

The sun, who seems to have the im-
mediate control of these matters, has for
a few weeks been getting rapidly to the
south, and the summer and autumn fol-
low him. His decimation, by the mid-
dle of the month, is the same, and the
days are as short, as at the latter part of
January : but how different the two sea-
sons. Now, we generally have our In-

dian summer, and then, perhaps, is the
coldest part of winter. When the earth
has become so thoroughly heated by the
longer days and more perpendicular sun
of summer, it requires some time, after
the sun has attained its greatest southern
declination, for it to cool again to the
lowest temperature of winter.

We are no great admirers of the mere
poetry and sentimentality of life, but,
seeing it is November, suppose we in-
dulge a little in the pensive mood. Let
us take one of those pure transparent
days which are only to be found at this
season, and go to the southern declivity
of some gentle swell where we may
have the woods in our rear. Now look
abroad to the south where the retiring
summer seems yet to linger, and the
autumn lies slumbering over the land-
scape. Here is no bold and abrupt
coloring, no contrast of dark woods with
yellow fields ; the different features and
tints seem blended into one grand mass,
forming an extended and unbroken
scene of quiet, calm serenity and love-
liness. Over head is that deep trans-
parent blue which belongs only to an
autumn sky, with here and there a strag-
gling white-edged cloud, which some-
times passing before the sun, we see the
shadow as it travels over the plain,
daikening successively for a moment the
hills and fields until lost in the distance,
and giving a transient life and motion to
the sleeping scene before us. Now and
then a single bird is to be seen, who, as
if loth to leave the happy scenes of his
summer joys, still lingers behind, long
after his companions have departed for
southern climes. Occasionally we are
startled by the squirrel, who, with a cheek

^ 7 OVEMBER.

.31

load of hickory nuts, rustles the leaves
as he scampers to his hiding place, to
finish stocking his cellars with provisions
for the winter. For half an hour, not a
breath of air is felt, or a sound heard ; till
presently, the wind, scarcely heard at
first, begins to murmur among the trees
in the distance ; approaching, it increases
to a mournful howl, bringing with it a
cloud of leaves, which, whirled in eddies
across the sky above us, afford us a lec-
ture ." more eloquent than words," on the
end there must be to all of the beautiful
and fascinating, to which we have set our
hearts and engaged our affections here.
Now the wind dies away again in moan-
ing sighs, the leaves settle away in the
distance, and presently all is again quiet,
lonely and silent.

At such times, we feel little inclined
to conversation ; deeply absorbed in the
contemplation of the scene before us,
about us, and above us, we find occasion
for few words ; conscious that each sees
and deeply feels the whole, the year
going reluctantly on to its grave, we find
all comment unnecessary, and words su-
perfluous; we want no communion with
anything save our own silent thoughts.

I know not how it is with others, but
I have sometimes felt English enough to
think, were it proper to choose, that when
I am called upon to leave all the beauti-
ful and interesting things that have so
long bound me to earth, I could choose
this season, and leave them with less re-
gret amid such a scene, when all around
is gone to decay, and the earth itself
seems to covet the repose of death.

Say well is good, but do well is better,

EXPERIENCE A TEACHER TO BIRDS.
There is much more intellect in birds
than people suppose. A curious instance
of this once occurred at a slate quarry.
A thrush, not aware of the expansive prop-
erties of gunpowder, thought proper to
build her nest on the ridge of the quarry
in the very centre of which they were
constantly blasting the rock. At first,
she was very much discomposed by the
flying of stones in all directions, but still
she would not leave her nest. She soon
observed that a bell rang whenever a
train was about to be fired, and that, at
the notice, the workmen retired to safe
positions. In a few days, when she
heard the bell, she quitted her exposed
situation, and flew down to where the
workmen sheltered themselves, dropping
close to their feet. There she would
remain till the explosion had taken place
and then return to her nest.

LITIGATION. Law is like a country
dance ; people are led up and down till
they are fairly tired out. It is like a
book of surgery ; there are a great many
terrible cases in it. It is like physic too ;
they that take the least of it are best off.
Law is like a new fashion ; people are
bewitched to get into it; and like bad
weather, most people are glad to get out
of it.

SCOTT. It is related of Sir Walter
Scott that when in health he never re-
fused to see any one, however humble,
who called upon him ; and that he
scarcely ever received a letter which he
did not answer by his own hand.

132

BILL AND THE BOYS.

Bill and the Boys,

The story of Dirk Heldriver, concluded.

HIELDER having attained the sum-
mit of the pyramidal crag, to which
he had been invited, now looked
around for Hieldover. He saw a
fire which had guided him to the spot,
made of fagots burning upon the rocks,
and at a little distance, he discovered the
mouth of a cave. From this, Hieldover
soon issued, and presented himself before
his visiter. The strong light of the blaz-
ing brands, reflected upon the faces and
forms of the two men, presented a stri-
king picture. The emaciated form, the
haggard features and the torn garments
of Hielder, were strongly contrasted with
the iron frame, the stern, flinty counte-
nance, and homely sailor's dress of Hiel-
dover.

The two men met, but no kindly greet-
ing passed between them. They gazed
at each other for a moment, and Hieldo-
ver then broke the silence. " You have
come," said he, " at my bidding, and I
will fulfil my promise. You shall see
your daughter but you must first listen
to my story." Saying this, he pointed to
a seat on the rock, and M. Hielder sat
down. Hieldover did the same, and then
he spoke as follows.

" It is now twelve years since we
parted at Amsterdam. I need not go
over the story of my father's death of
his intrusting my fortune and education
to your care. I need not say how you
discharged your trust, by bringing me
up in every species of folly and dissipa-
tion ; of your embezzlement of my pro-
perty, and final retreat from the country
to parts unknown. The latter event, as

you well know, occurred in my absence
from Amsterdam. When I returned to
the city I found myself a beggar, and what
was worse, my character was ruined.
You had enjoyed a high reputation for
integrity, and had taken advantage of
this to denounce me as a graceless wretch,
unworthy of protection or sympathy.
You had also circulated the story that
the vast estate bequeathed by my father
had been squandered by my profligacy.

" I was just twenty-one when I re-
turned to Amsterdam, intending to take
possession of my estate, but instead of
this, I found myself at once ruined in
fortune and fame. It is impossible for
me to describe the miseries that one
after another overwhelmed me. I applied
to friends; but they received me with
coldness or aversion. I resorted to my
companions, upon whom I had lavished
favors ; but they smiled and put their
fingers sneeringly to the side of the nose.
I applied to a lawyer ; but he would not
undertake my cause without a fee, and
this I could not give. At length, I bent
all the energies of my soul to one single
purpose, and that was to pursue you, to
traverse the four quarters of the globe,
if necessary, to find you, and at last to
inflict upon you some punishment ade-
quate to your ingratitude and your
crimes.

"Entering upon this design with a
fierce and feverish desire, I shipped on
board a vessel as a common sailor. I had
reason to suppose that you had gone to
Surinam, and the vessel I entered was
bound to that port. I performed the du-
ties of a sailor with alacrity. In the long
and tedious calm, or the raging of the
tempest, whether upon the quiet deck or

BILL AND THE BOYS.

133

aloft amid the shivering spars, I never
for one moment forgot my purpose. I
arrived at the destined port, and made
inquiries for you, but without success.
I engaged in the revels of my compan-
ions ; but in my maddest moments I
thought of you. I shipped for Java, for
I had been led to conjecture that you
might be there. We performed our long
voyage of alternate tempest and tran-
quillity. To all around me I seemed the
most thoughtless of the unthinking men
with whom I was associated ; yet it was
the burning hope of revenge that sus-
tained me.

" You were not at Java. I set out for
the Japan Isles, and reached the rock of
Nangasaki, to which the Dutch traders
are confined. You had been here, but
had departed, leaving no clew by \vhich
you could be traced. In a daring and
reckless mood, I ventured with one of
my companions to enter into one of the
Japanese towns. We had dressed our-
selves like the natives, and for a time
were unsuspected. But at last we were
seized, severely beaten, put into an open
boat and driven out to sea. We were
forced along the coast by winds and cur-
rents, and at last, were wrecked upon a
rocky shore. In a starving condition
we clambered up the cliffs, and made our
way to a small village. Here we were
seized and conducted from post to post,
till we reached Meaco, the residence of
the dairi or king. Having been exam-
ined, we were sentenced to perpetual
slavery in the diamond mines. These
belonged to the king, and were situated
in the mountains. For three years I
wrought in gloomy caverns, without once
seeing the light of day. Even here I did

not forget my revenge, and had still in
my bosom a conviction that I should
break the chains with which my body
was bound, escape from my rocky prison,
and fulfil my purpose. My companion
wasted away under his toil and confine-
ment, and expired before my eyes ; but
my body and soul fed upon the hope
which had so long animated my bosom.

" I began to meditate an escape. I laid
my plans with deliberation, and at the
end of eleven months, they were com-
pleted. I effected my deliverance, and
lived for two years with the wild goats
amid the recesses of the mountains. I
had learned the language and manners
of the country, and leaving my retreat,
made my way without difficulty ; all sus-
picion having been lulled by the time
which had elapsed since my escape. I
had concealed a number of diamonds and
other gems of great value, and carried
them with me. I was now rich, but I
regarded my wealth only as the means
by which I might traverse the world in
pursuit of you.

"I reached Nangasaki, and entered
a vessel bound for Amsterdam. I re-
turned to my native city, and for a time
engaged in the pleasures of fashionable
life. I was courted and flattered on
every side ; but I became weary of blan-
dishments, and the thirst of revenge,
which had been forgotten, again revived
in my bosom. I came to New York, and
spent a year in search of you. At last,
I discovered your place of residence, and
learned that you had exchanged the
name of Brocken for Hielder. I learned
that you were married that you lived
aloof from mankind, and that you were
regarded as a strange and mysterious

134

BILL AND THE BOYS.

being. I visited your abode by night
I hung around your path I frequently
saw you, and was more than once on
the point of thrusting my poniard into
your bosom.

" It is strange, that, when you were
in my power, my hand seemed withheld
from striking the blow I had so long
meditated. I hesitated I wavered. At
last my desire of revenge returned in its
full vigor I went, determined to fulfil
my long meditated design. Concealed
in the shrubbery, I saw you approach.
I drew my dirk, and stood ready. You
came near, but your lovely child was by
your side. You paused you sat down
you embraced that flaxen-haired girl,
and gazed in her sunny face with the
fond affection of a parent. I had only
thought of you before as a demon ; but
I now saw that you were a father, and
possessed a father's feeling. It was a
strange revelation, and it opened a new
view to my mind. I cast my poniard
away with loathing, and another train of
thoughts took possession of my soul.

" I lay in wait, and seizing a favorable
opportunity, I carried your daughter
away. She is here, and she is well. I
have brought you hither; I have told
you my story I have fulfilled my pur-
pose. I have no other revenge to bestow.
Keep your ill-gotten wealth for I know
it cannot bless you. I only hope that
your innocent child may not share in
the misery which your crimes have in-
flicted upon me, and must continue to
inflict upon yourself. I see a fate worse
than that of Cain, written on your brow.
There is a fire within your breast that
consumes you. One solace only is af-

forded you your daughter; and even
that is mingled with a fear that is of
itself torture. How mysterious are the
ways of Providence ! When there is no
other tribunal to inflict punishment, the
soul turns upon itself, and becomes an
executioner. Dark and desolate as is
my lot, I envy not yours."

Hieldover waited for no reply, but
immediately brought out Katrina and
placed her in her father's arms. After a
short space, he led them down the cliff,
and conducted them to one of the ave-
nues of the mountain. He then spoke
to Hielder as follows :

" Farewell we part forever. You
need not fear me nay, forget me if you
can. I forgive the injuries you have
done me the wreck of my existence
which you have caused. I am unfit for
the world, and I shall continue to occupy
this abode. I have lived a life of evil
thoughts and wicked passions. I will
exprate my crimes by a life of penance
in yonder cave. Beware of seeking me
of naming me to others. I seek only
oblivion and repose. Adieu."

The strange man departed, and Hiel-
der saw him no more. Years passed
away, and a light was often seen on the
mountains. Rumors were afloat that the
giant form of a man was sometimes seen
upon the cliffs, or gliding through the
valley beneath. The light was at last
extinguished, and the legend became cur-
rent that the bones of a man were many
years after found in the cave, and by
their side a small sack of precious gems.
The glen had long the reputation of
being haunted, and was anciently known
by the name of Heldriver's castle.

NEW ZEALAND.

135

Head of a New Ztalander.

New Zealand,

EW ZEALAND consists of two islands,
but separated only by a strait, and
composing properly only one coun-
try, lying between 34 and 48 S.
lat. ; being thus about 1000 miles in
length ; but the average breadth does not
exceed 100 miles. The surface is esti-
mated at 62,160 English square miles.
The northern island is known by the
name, not very well fitted for English
organs, of Eaheinomauwe ; the southern
by that of T'avai Poenammoo. The first
is the Q smallest, but is distinguished by
the finest soil, and by natural features of
the boldest and grandest description.
Chains of high mountains run through
both islands, which, in the former, rise

to the height of 12,000 or 14,000 feet,
and are buried for two thirds of their
height in perpetual snow ; presenting on
the greatest scale all the Alpine phenom-
ena. From these heights numerous
streams flow down, watering in their
course the most fertile and enchanting
valleys. The huge glaciers and plains
of snow which cover their higher re-
gions ; the mighty torrents which pour
j down from them, forming stupendous
| cataracts ; the lofty woods which crown
their middle regions ; the hills which
wind along their feet, decked with the
brightest vegetation ; the bold cliffs and
promontories which breast the might of
the southern waves ; the beautiful bays

136

NEW ZEALAND.

decked with numberless villages and
canoes all conspire to present a scene,
which even the rude eye of the naviga-
tor cannot behold without rapture. The
soil in the valleys, and in the tracts of
land at all level, is more fertile than in
New Holland, and, with due cultivation,
would yield grain in abundance. It pro-
duces, even spontaneously and plenti-
fully, roots fitted for human food, partic-
ularly those of a species of fern, which
covers almost the whole country.

The natives breed pigs, and cultivate
some maize, yams arid potatoes ; and
there is a species of very strong flax,
which serves not only for clothing, but
fishing-lines, and various other purposes.
The mountains are clothed with a profu-
sion of fir trees, of a variety of species
unknown in other countries, and rising
to a magnificent height, which the tallest
pines of Norway cannot rival.

The natives are of a different race from
those of New Holland, belonging to that
Malay race which predominates in the
South Sea Islands. They are tall and
well formed, with large black eyes ; they
are intelligent, have made some progress
in the arts of life, and are united into a
certain form of political society. These
circumstances, however, have only tend-
ed to develop in a still more frightful
degree those furious passions which agi-
tate the breast of the savage. Each little
society is actuated by the deepest enmity
against all their neighbors; their daily
and nightly thought is to surprise, to
attack, to exterminate them ; and when
they have gained that guilty triumph, it
is followed by devouring their victims.

Yet to the members of their own tribe,
or those whom they regard as friends,

they are not only mild and courteous, but
display the fondest attachment and most
tender sensibility. Families live together
in great harmony, and are seen assem-
bled in pleasing and harmonious groups.
On the death of their relations, they ex-
hibit the most impassioned and affecting
symptoms of grief, cutting their faces
with pieces of shell or bone, till the blood
flows and mixes with their tears.

They have a great turn for oratory,
the chiefs making speeches of two or
three hours, accompanied with vehement
gestures, to which those of the audience
correspond. Their war-canoes are very
large, adorned with much curious and
elaborate carving. Great diligence is
also exercised, and great pain endured,
in bestowing upon their skins the orna-
ment of tattooing ; and the visages of the
chiefs are often entirely covered over
with various regular figures. This, how-
ever, is not effected without severe pain,
causing even attacks of fever; but to
shrink in any degree from the operation
is considered as altogether derogatory to
a manly spirit. They have also a horrid
art, by which the heads of their enemies,
being dried in an oven, and exposed to a
stream of fresh air, are maintained in
a state of perfect preservation. Their
houses are by no means spacious ; that
of Korra-korra, a powerful chief, meas-
ured only nine feet long, six feet wide,
and four feet high. They are placed in
hippahs, or fortified villages, seated on
high and steep hills, ascended by path-
ways, narrow, winding, and often per-
pendicular, so as to be most perilous to
an European; but the New Zealander
leaps up as if it were level ground.

Their original arms consisted of clubs

DICK BOLDHERO.

137

of stone and whalebone, of long and
pointed spears, and of the pattoo-pattoo,
or wooden battle-axe; but since the mus-
ket has been '.ntroduced to their know-
ledge, it has absorbed all their .warlike
T"ijard ; and the strength of a chief is
- rnted, not by his men, but by his
muskets. The report of fifty being in
the possession of Korra-korra spread the
terror of his name for 200 miles round.

Dick Boldhero,

CHAPTER IX.

MOUNTED upon the back of a small but
vigorous Dutch pony, I made my
way upon my return much more
rapidly than 1 had done on foot in
proceeding into the country. At the end
of about eight days, I reached the city.
During my ride I had revolved many
schemes in my head, and I had deter-
mined, not only to find out my uncle, but,
if possible, to vindicate his reputation.
The scale of my operations was pretty
large, considering my youth ; but through
life our anticipations are very apt to be
extensive in proportion as our means are
small.

Immediately upon arriving at Para-
maribo, I set about my inquiries ; but a
fortnight passed away, and nothing had
transpired to give me the least hope of
success. But one night, as I was walk-
ing along the quay of the city, a person
muffled up in a cloak met me, handed
me a letter, and disappeared. I hastened
to my room, opened the paper, and read
as follows. " Your uncle is an innocent
and injured man. There are those in
this city who have participated in the

means by which his character was ren-
dered infamous. The chief instrument
! by which the base plot was executed, is
I the captain of the ship that was lost. He
now lives in a splendid villa near the
city of Caraccas, under the name of
Signor Sevil."

There was neither date nor signature
to this paper, and whether to consider it
as a mere imposition, or as founded in
truth and designed to aid my researches,
I could not determine. I submitted it to
my adviser, to whom I had been com-
mended by Mr. Hartley, and he deemed
the communication of great importance.
It was finally determined that I should
proceed to Caraccas, in the hope of ascer-
taining whether the statement in the
paper was true, and if so, how far the
fact cbuld be made available to the clear-
ing up of rny uncle's character. Before
my departure, I went .to see my cousin
Mirabel, and proffered my claim to rela-
tionship. She received me kindly, and
entered with enthusiasm into my pro-
jects. I left her, and taking passage in
a small coasting vessel, set out for Ca-
raccas.

This city is situated on the northern-
coast of South America, and is the capi-
tal of the fine province of Venezuela. In
about twenty days we reached our des-
tined port, and I set out immediately for
the city, which lies about fifteen miles
from the sea. Our road lay over moun-
tainous ridges, but we were rapidly and
safely carried by mules, and reached
Caraccas in the space of a few hours.

I found this place to contain some fifty
thousand inhabitants, nearly all of them
Spaniards. The streets were built at
right angles, and .were exceedingly nar-

DICK BOLDHERO.

row. The houses had a gloomy look,
there being in each but one or two win-
dows towards the street, but in the rear
they had large courts, where there were
often very pleasant gardens, with walks
and fountains. There were several pub-
lic squares in the town, among which the
Plac^a Mayor was the principal. This
was about 320 feet square, and here was
the chief market of the city. The
churches were numerous, and the cathe-
dral was very splendid.

I gave myself little time to survey the
city, but immediately entered upon the
business that had brought me hither. I
soon found that such a person as Signer
Sevil actually lived in a handsome edifice
in the suburbs of the city. Upon further
inquiry I ascertained that he had resided
there but a few years, that he was a for-
eigner, and a degree of doubt and mys-
tery hung over his life -and character.
There were even suspicions that he had
been engaged in certain piratical expe-
ditions ; but as all this was surmise, and
he appeared to be in the possession of
wealth, the subject was little agitated.

I remained for several weeks, endeav-
oring to trace out the history of this
individual, and became satisfied that he
was actually the captain who had com-
manded the vessel in which my uncle's
property was lost, and through whose
villany he had been made to suffer so
severely. Yet I was unable to obtain
any specific proofs that would answer
my purpose. I revolved a great many
schemes, and finally determined to seek
an interview with the captain, tell him
my object boldly, and take my chance
for the result. If I gained no advantage,
I should at least lose nothing.

Accordingly, I wrote a letter to the
captain, who bore the name of Signor
Sevil, stating that a person from Para-
maribo desired to see him on important
business. This I despatched to his house,
and received for answer that he would
call upon me at the place designated, on
the morrow. At the time appointed he
came, and seemed not a little surprised
at the youthfulness of the person with
whom he was to have an interview. I
began by addressing him as Captain
Pierce, remarking that I was well ac-
quainted with his history and character,
and that my name was Boldhero. He
started to his feet as if he had been
stung by an adder, and then seemed
about to rush upon me. I had provided
myself with a pistol, which I drew from
my bosom, and presented to his face.
This seemed to have a cooling effect;
he immediately forced a smile, resumed
his chair, and said, " Well, well, let us
hear what you have to say."

I then stated that my object was to
vindicate the reputation of my uncle, and
to recover also the large amount of
money due from the insurance company
at Surinam. I assured him that my
purpose was not to bring him to justice,
but only to obtain from him a solemn
affidavit, retracting his former perjury,
with a confession of the means by which
he had been bribed to commit so foul a
wrong.

When I had done, the man looked at
me with a mixture of amazement and
mirth. The audacity of my proposition
seemed at once to astonish and amuse
him. After looking me steadily in the
face for a few moments, he said, with
great civility, " I will think of this pro-

DICK BOLDHERO.

139

position, and when I am prepared to
erect a gallows and twist a halter for
my own execution, I will perhaps com-
ply with your very reasonable request."
Saying this, the man rose from his seat,
saluted me with great politeness, and
was about to depart.

Stung with disappointment and indig-
nation, I placed my back to the door,
determined to oppose his departure.
While I stood a moment in this position,
facing the captain, my feet seemed jerked
from under me, and I fell to the floor.
At the same instant I saw that he was
thrown forcibly in an opposite direction,
and laid prostrate. I arose, but was in-
stantly thrown down again. I could now
perceive that the room was rocking back-
ward and forward ; at the same time,
my ears were filled with the most terrific
sounds I ever heard. With a powerful
effort, I arose and rushed down the stairs,
into the street.

The earth trembled beneath my feet,
and the buildings around seemed to be
rushing into a mass of ruins. On every
side, I could hear the crash of buildings
falling to the earth ; the screams of men,
women, and children, filled with despair
or crushed beneath the falling fragments ;
together with the heavy and portentous
sound, like the deep bellowing of thun-
der, smothered in the bowels of the earth.
Completely bewildered, I rushed along
the street, escaping as if by miracle from
the bricks and stones and timbers that
fell around me. At length I reached the
Placa Mayor, where I had an extended
view of the scene.

The whole space was nearly covered
with people ; priests with their crosses ;
women with their children ; aged men

and women, tottering with years; the
rich and the poor, the strong and the
weak, the young and the old ; some silent
and some wailing ; some prostrate on the
earth ; others kneeling and telling their
beads ; others standing erect, and spread-
ing upward their beseeching hands to
Heaven. While such was the spectacle
before the eye, the ear was stunned with
strange and appalling sounds, and at the
same time, the earth trembled as if the
very stones were filled with fear at the
awful visitation.

Around the square, most of the build-
ings were prostrate ; the only edifice that
seemed to defy the shock, was the cathe-
dral, which occupied a portion of the
open space. The agitation of the earth
continued for a few minutes, when it
gradually subsided. The trembling at
last totally ceased, the air became still,
and a deathlike silence settled over the
ruined city. It was evident that the
earthquake had passed, and the inhabit-
ants by slow degrees began now to re-
cover from their panic.

The desolation that pervaded the place
was, however, terrific. Thousands of
people had been killed, and many of the
living were now houseless and homeless.
Endeavoring to shun the sights of mis-
ery that presented themselves on every
side, I wandered about, scarcely knowing
whither I went. At last I found myself
near my lodgings. The building was
still standing, though considerably in-
jured. While I stood before it, surveying
its aspect, I heard a deep groan near at
hand. On going to the spot from whence
the sound issued, I found the captain
half buried beneath a mass of bricks. I
went to him, and he instantly recognized

DICK BOLDHERO.

me. " For God's sake give me help,"
said he, " though it is perhaps of little
consequence, for I have but a few hours
to live."

Touched by the poor man's sufferings,
1 immediately fell to work to extricate
him, but found the task beyond my
strength. I ran for help, which I obtained
with some difficulty, and the sufferer was
taken up, and carried into the adjacent
building, where I had lodged. " I am
dying," said he to me. "I beg you 'to
send for a priest. Be speedy, as you
would have mercy on the soul of a great
sinner."

I ran to the Placa Mayor, and speedily
brought a friar to fhe bedside of the dying
man. We were all required to leave the
Toom, and the captain proceeded to make
his confession in the ear of the priest.
The holy father told him that his crimes
were great, and he could only offer him
absolution upon condition that he would
put his declaration in writing, and in such
a form as would enable the parties he
had injured to obtain justice.

After a violent struggle with his pride,
the sufferer yielded, and a magistrate
was called to receive his dying affirma-
tion. This was executed in due form,
and in my presence. It completely ex-
culpated my uncle from all blame. It
declared that his ship was lost by stress
of weather, and that he, the captain, had
been bribed to give perjured evidence, in
stating that the catastrophe had been
brought about by my uncle's orders.
Scarcely had he finished this declaration,
and sworn to it, when he was seized with
spasms, his mind wandered, and with
a struggle that shook his whole frame,
he expired.

CHAPTER X.

THE object of my visit to Caraccas
having been completed in a manner
which seemed almost miraculous, I was
impatient to return to Paramaribo, and
take counsel as to what steps should be
adopted for the discovery of my uncle.
I therefore took passage in the first ves-
sel bound for that port; and in the space
of twenty-four days, found myself again
sailing up the Surinam.

We soon landed, and after despatching
a letter to Mr. Hartley, informing him of
my success, and requesting him imme-
diately to repair to Paramaribo, I has-
tened to the house of M. Scager, my
uncle's father-in-law ; I had seen the old
gentleman before my departure for Ca-
raccas, but had not consulted him as
to the object of my expedition. Such,
indeed, had been the bitterness of his
feelings towards my uncle, on account
of the disgrace associated with his name,
that even an allusion to him excited his
anger.

I had, however, seen my black-eyed
cousin Mirabel, and imparted to her my
scheme, and the hopes I entertained of
rescuing her father's name from reproach,
and if successful in this, my determina-
tion to range the world until I might
discover him.

Young as she was, Mirabel entered
into my views with ardor, and I believe
that my own resolution was quickened
in no small degree by the feelings which
animated her own bosom, and which I saw
vividly painted upon her countenance.

When I reached the house, M. Scager
was absent, and my first interview was
with Mirabel. She saw me, indeed, be-
fore I reached the door, and was about

DICK BOLDHERO.

141

to fly towards me ; but she suddenly
stopped, and gazed earnestly in my face.
Seeming to be satisfied with the tidings
it bore, she rushed forward, and I re-
ceived her in my arms.

It may seem that this proceeding suit-
ed my name better than my age and
condition ; but it must be considered
that Mirabel was my cousin, that I had
achieved a great service in behalf of her
lather, and that the girl had very hand-
some u.a^tc eyes.

My story was soon told, and I cannot
describe the happiness that shone in
Mirabel's face. But in a short time I
perceived that it was shaded by a look
of the deepest sorrow. I inquired the
cause, and begging me to excuse her
seeming ingratitude, she told me that her
anxiety to know her father's fate, and to
see him if living, was now so great as
even to drown the enjoyment derived
from knowing that his name would now
be rescued from the shame which had
long attended it. I spoke cheeringly to
her in reply, and promised again to com-
pass sea and land in search of him.

While we were thus engaged, M. Sca-
ger returned. I hesitated as to the man-
ner in which I should communicate the
intelligence I had brought. Mirabel,
seeing my embarrassment, took the pa-
pers which I had obtained from Caraccas,
and placing them in her grandfather's
hands, begged him to read them at his
leisure. The old man sat down, and
while he was taking out his spectacles,
Mirabel slipped out of the room, beckon-
ing me with a fairy sweep of her finger
to follow her.

We had not long been absent, when
we were recalled, and M. Scager inquired

how these papers came into Mirabel's
hands. She briefly told him how I had
obtained them. The old man looked at
me steadfastly and doubtingly for a mo-
ment, and then, seeming to assent to the
truth of the documents he had been pe-
rusing, he exclaimed, " After all, Mirabel,
your father was what he seemed, a noble
and an honest man, and I have done him
grievous wrong. Come here, my child."
As he said this, he held out his hand,
and Mirabel approaching him, was taken
in his arms, and the old man's tears fell
thick and fast upon her face. I felt the
scene to be almost more than I could
bear, and hastily left the room.

I need not detail the events which
immediately followed. It will be suffi-
cient to say that in the course of a few
days Mr. Hartley arrived, and upon con-
sulting a lawyer, it was thought that the
papers I had procured would be not only
sufficient to establish my uncle's inno-
cence, but to enable him, if living, to
recover from the insurance company an
immense sum of money, not only for the
loss of his cargo, but for interest, and the
conspiracy which had been entered into
with the captain of the wrecked vessel.
If he were dead, these sums, it was
thought, could be recovered by his heirs.

It now became a matter of extreme
interest to trace my uncle's career from
the time he escaped from the prison and
left Paramaribo. M. Scager had received
several letters from him, but these did
not clearly indicate the place of his
abode. After consulting these letters,
and putting together all the information
that could be obtained, it was determined,
that I should proceed with all possible
despatch, to Valparaiso, at which place

142

DICK BOLDHERO.

it appeared tolerably certain he had been
established in business about ten years
before. Being supplied with letters of
introduction and plenty of money, I took
my departure ; not, however, without
an affectionate farewell from my gentle
cousin.

My plan was to proceed to Buenos
Ayres in a vessel, and cross the conti-
nent in a westerly direction, to Chili, of
which Valparaiso is the chief commercial
port. I accordingly entered on board a
brig bound for Buenos Ayres. We were
soon upon the ocean, and I had now lei-
sure to reflect upon the circumstances
which had recently transpired, and the
prospects that lay before me.

Although I was still a youth, I had
already accomplished something, and was
now engaged in an enterprise seldom
committed to the charge of one .so young
as myself. I was surprised to observe
the change which had taken place in my
feelings and character in the space of a
few months. When I first arrived at
Paramaribo, I was but a boy. I had now
the settled thoughts, plans and purposes
of a man. I was bound to a distant
country, and dangers and trials lay before
me ; but these did not in the slightest de-
gree shake my resolution. Though I was
calm, I had still the ardent hope and san-
guine expectation which belong to youth.

Although I knew the extreme uncer-
tainty of my being able to find my uncle,
yet I had still a sort of faith that I should
at last succeed in this. " What happi-
ness," thought I, " would flow from such
an event ! " I often indulged my imagina-
tion in picturing his return in fancying
the meeting between him and his daugh-
ter. I thought also of the benefits that

might ultimately flow to my mother and
sister; and I had likewise some dreams
of a vague but agreeable nature which
had relation to Mirabel and myself.

Our vessel stole on before a gentle
wind, but though I was entirely at leisure,
my mind was never more busy ; my fac-
ulties seemed roused in every respect,
and although my thoughts dwelt so much
upon the particular purpose of my pres-
ent expedition, I still noticed with lively
interest every object of curiosity that
came in my way. I was greatly struck
with the splendor of the starry firma-
ment amid these tropical regions. As
we proceeded farther and farther south,
groups of stars, which I had never seen
before, and which are not visible in the
northern hemisphere, came to view.
Many of these were exceedingly bril-
liant, and at night, in the absence of the
moon, seemed to fill the whole atmos-
phere with a mild lustre.

Nor were the objects connected with
the sea hardly less interesting. Flocks
of flying fishes, pursued by dolphins in
the water, occasionally burst from the
briny element, and shot like arrows for
a considerable distance through the air.
Huge sharks accompanied our vessel, day
after day, and a large species of seal
which has often been taken for the mer-
maid, would occasionally lift its head
above the wave, and having surveyed us
for a moment, would sink back into the
water. The albatross, the largest of sea-
fowl, occasionally swept by us, and myri-
ads of wild ducks, seeming like skeins
of thread bending and winding against
the verge of the distant horizon, skimmed
the surface of the waters, along the
shores of the continent.

DICK BOLDHERO.

143

In about forty days from the time of
our departure, we entered the mouth of
the mighty river La Plata. Such was
its width, that it seemed like the sea ; but
we gradually approached the shore, and
on the southern bank of the river, 150
miles from its mouth, we now saw the
city of Buenos Ayres. Anchoring at the
distance of seven or eight miles from the
town, on account of the shallow water,
the captain and myself entered a boat
and were rowed to the city.

My stay in this place was short, and
I had not an opportunity to examine it
with care. It stretches along a high
bank for about two miles, and contains
about 60,000 inhabitants. These are
chiefly of Spanish descent. There are a
few negroes, some of whom are slaves.
By far the larger portion of the lower
class are Indians, who perform the com-
mon labor, and discharge the menial
offices of society. They speak the Span-
ish language, and have forgotten alike
their original habits and their native
tongue.

On inquiry, I found that the distance
from Buenos Ayres to Valparaiso was
about a thousand miles. The road led
across the vast plains called the Pampas,
and also over the lofty mountainous chain
called the Andes. It was rough and ill
wrought, and was therefore seldom trav-
elled with carriages. I learned, also,
that it was beset with thieves and rob-
bers.

In four days after my arrival, my
preparations were complete, and I de-
parted. I was mounted on a strong
horse, which had been caught upon the
plains and trained to the saddle. I was
attended by a stout Indian, also well

mounted, as a guide. We were each
armed with a brace of pistols and a dirk.
Thus equipped, we set forward.

Soon after leaving the city we entered
upon a broken country, which was for
the most part entirely in a state of nature.
Here and there, was a villa surrounded
by a plantation, but with these excep-
tions, everything had a wild aspect. It
was now May a period at which, in the
land of my nativity, the trees and plants
are springing into life. But here, 'it was
autumn, and the sere and yellow leaf
was visible over the landscape. Still,
many of the shrubs and grasses main-
tained their verdure, and put forth their
blossoms. The aspect of nature, how-
ever, was strange. The trees were of
kinds I had never seen before, and the
birds were all different from those with
which I had been familiar.

In the course of two days, we were
upon the pampas. These resembled the
prairies of the west, but they are on a
far grander scale. They stretch out to
an amazing distance their whole extent
being nearly ten times as great as that
of New England. The surface is slightly
undulating, and generally covered with
grass. A few groups of stunted palm
trees are visible, and pools of salt water
are occasionally met with.

Along the road we found huts, about
twenty miles apart, designed for the
accommodation of travellers. We some-
times met persons on horseback, and saw
numerous herds of wild cattle and troops
of horses grazing upon the plains. We
had several opportunities of witnessing
the skill of the hunters in taking these
animals with the lasso. This is a long
rope with a noose at the end. The

114

THE BEAR AND PANTHER.

hunter, who is mounted, carries this in a
coil upon his arm ; when he approaches
his prey, he whirls it in the air, and at
last throws it with such skill and pre-
cision that the noose falls over the ani-
mal's neck.

We one day saw a hunter noose a
wild bull at a short distance from us.
When the lasso was thrown, the animal
was at full speed, and the hunter in chase,
at the distance of about twenty feet.
The noose was immediately drawn tight
around the neck of the flying beast.
Wild with fright and pain, the creature
rushed forward, bellowing with all his
lungs. The huntsman held on to the
rope ; the horse, seeming to understand
the game, kept in a position to strain it
to the utmost, and at the same time to
embarrass the progress of the maddened
fugitive. /.. ii' the creature approached
the road, hi* mouth foaming, his tongue,
swollen and black, hanging from his
mouth, and his eyeballs seeming ready
to gush from their sockets. Attempting
to leap across a chasm, he faltered, and
fell with a heavy groan into the middle
of the path. The hunter sprung from
his horse, and plunged a knife deep into
his neck. The bull struggled, rose to his
feet and plunged furiously forward. But
he soon staggered, and reeling round and
round, fell dead to the earth.

The Bear and Panther,

IT was on as beautiful an autumnal day
as ever ushered in the Indian summer,
that I made an excursion after game
among a group of mountains, or rather
on a link in the great chain of the Alle-

ghany range, which runs in a north-
eastern direction in that part of Pennsyl-
vania which bounds the New York line.
I had kept the summit of the mountains
for several miles, without success, for a
breeze had arisen shortly after sunrise
which rattled through the trees, and made
it unfavorable for hunting on dry ground ;
and indeed the only wild animal I saw
was a bear, that was feeding on another
ridge across a deep valley, and entirely
out of reach of my rifle shot. I therefore
descended the mountain in an oblique
direction, towards the salt springs, which
I soon reached, and after finding others
had preceded me here, I left the spot for
another mountain on which I intended
to pass the remainder of the day, gradu-
ally working my way home. This moun-
tain was covered with chestnut trees, and
here it was that I caught a glimpse of
the bear from the other ridge, and found
he had disappeared but a short time pre-
vious to my arrival on this mountain.
I followed his track for three miles, for
chestnuts lay in abundance on the ground,
and bears, like hogs, root up the leaves
in search of food beneath, and it no doubt
had lingered about here eating its meal
until my near approach gave warning of
its danger. This I could discover, as the
leaves having been wet by the melted
frost on the top, a path could be traced
where the bear in running had turned
the dried part of the leaves uppermost.
I quickened my pace along the mountain
side and around the turn of the moun-
tain, with the hopes of surprising the
bear, and after a rapid chase for the dis-
tance above mentioned, all proved fruit-
less, and I relinquished further pursuit.
Warm with this exercise, and somewhat

THE BEAR AND PANTHER.

145

fatigued, I descended the mountain side,
and took my seat beside a stream of wa-
ter which gently washed the base of the
mountain, and emptied itself into the
head of the waters of the Susquehannah.

I had remained, sitting on a fallen tree
whose branches extended considerably
into the water, for perhaps an hour and
a half, when of a sudden I heard a rus-
tling among the leaves on the mountain
immediately above my head, which at
first was so distant that I thought it
merely an eddy in the wind, whirling the
leaves from the ground ; but it increased
so rapidly, and approached so near the
spot where I sat, that instinctively I seized
my rifle, ready in a moment to meet any
emergency which might offer.

That part of the mountain where I was
seated, was covered with laurel and other
bushes, and owing to the density of this
shrubbery, I could not discover an object
more than ten yards from me ; this, as
will afterwards appear, afforded me pro-
tection ; at any rate it conduced to my
success. The noise among the leaves
now became tremendous, and the object
approached so near, that I distinctly heard
an unnatural, grunting noise, as if from
some animal in great distress. At length,
a sudden plunge into the water, not more
than twenty yards from me, uncovered
to my view a full-grown black bear, in-
tent upon nothing but its endeavors to
press through the water and reach the
opposite shore. The water on an aver-
age was not more than two feet deep,
which was not sufficient for the animal
to swim, and too deep to run through ;
consequently the eagerness with which
the bear pressed through the water, cre-
ated such a splashing 1 noise, as fairly

VOL. VIII. 10

echoed through the hills. Without
scarcely a thought, I brought my rifle to
my shoulder with the intention of shoot-
ing, but before I could sight it correctly,
the bear rushed behind a rock which
shielded it from my view ; this gave me
a momentary season for reflection, and
although I could have killed the bear so
soon as it had passed the rock, I deter-
mined to await the result of such extraor-
dinary conduct in this animal ; for I was
wonder-struck at actions which were not
only strange but even ludicrous, there
not appearing then any cause for them.
The mystery, however, was soon unrav-
elled.

The stream of water was not more
than ten rods in width, and before the
bear was two thirds across it, I heard
another rustling, on the mountain side,
among the leaves, as if by jumps, and a
second plunge into the water convinced
me that the bear had good cause for its
precipitation ; for here, pressing hard at
its heels, was a formidable antagonist in
an enormous panther, which pursued the
bear with such determined inveteracy,
and appalling growls, as made me shud-
der as with a chill.

The panther plunged into the water
not more than eighteen or twenty yards
from me, and had it been but one third
of that distance, I feel convinced I should
have been unheeded by this animal, so
intent was it on the destruction of the
bear. It must indeed be an extraordinary
case which will make a panther plunge
into water, as it is a great characteristic
of the feline species always to avoid
water, unless driven to it, either by ne-
cessity or desperation ; but here nature
was set aside, and some powerful motive

146

THE BEAR AND PANTHER.

predominated in the passions of this ani-
mal, which put all laws of instinct at
defiance, and unlike the clumsy bustling
of the bear through the water, the pan-
ther went with bounds of ten feet at a
time, and ere the former reached the
opposite shore, the latter was midway of
the stream. This was a moment of thril-
ling interest, and that feeling so common
to the human breast, when the strong is
combating with the weak, now took pos-
session of mine, and espousing the cause
of the weaker party, abstractedly from
every consideration which was in the
wrong, I could not help wishing safety
to the bear, and death to the panther.
Under the impulse of these feelings,
I once more brought my rifle to my
shoulder, with the intention of shooting
the panther through the heart, but in
spite of myself I shrunk from the effort.
Perhaps it was well I reserved my fire,
for had I only wounded the animal, I
might have been a victim to its ferocity.
So soon as the bear found there was
no possibility of escape from an issue
with so dreadful an enemy, on reach-
ing the opposite bank of the stream,
it shook the water from its hair like a
dog, and ran about fifteen feet on the
bank, and lay directly on its back in a
defensive posture ; this it .had scarcely
done when the panther reached the wa-
ter's edge, and then, with a yell of ven-
geance, it made one bound, and sprang,
with outstretched claws and spitting like
a cat, immediately on the bear, which
lay in terror on the ground, ready to
receive its antagonist; but the contest
was soon at an end. Not more easily
does the eagle rend in sunder its terror-
stricken prey, than did the enraged pan-

ther tear in scattered fragments the help-
less bear ; it appeared but the work of a
moment, and that moment was one of
unrelenting vengeance ; for no sooner did
the panther alight on its victim, than
with the most ferocious yells, it planted
its hinder claws deep in the entrails of
the bear, and by a few rips, tore its an-
tagonist in pieces. Although the bear
was full grown, it must have been young
and in want of energy, for it was so
overcome with dread as not to be able to
make the least resistance.

Satisfied with glutting its vengeance,
the panther turned from the bear and
came directly to the water's edge to
drink, and allay the parching thirst cre-
ated by so great excitement, after which
it looked down and then up the stream,
as though it sought a place to cross, that
it might avoid the water ; and then, as
if satisfied with revenge, and enjoying
its victory, stood twisting and curling its
tail, like a cat, and then commenced lick-
ing itself dry.

The animal was now within thirty-five
yards of me, and seeing no prospect of
its recrossing the stream, I took rest for
my rifle on a projecting limb of the tree
on which I still sat, and fired directly at
the panther's heart. The moment I dis-
charged my rifle the monster made a
spring about six feet perpendicular, with
a tremendous growl, which reverberated
among the rocks, and fell in the same
spot whence it sprang, with its legs ex-
tended, and lay in this situation, half
crouched, rocking from side to side, as if
in the dizziness of approaching death. I
saw plainly that my fire was fatal, but I
had too much experience to approach this
enemy, until I could no longer discover

THE COTTON PLANT.

147

signs of life. I therefore reloaded my
rifle, and with a second shot I pierced
immediately behind the ear. Its head
then dropped between its paws, and all
was quiet.

On examining the panther, no marks
of violence appeared, except where my
rifle balls had passed completely through,
within a foot of each other; but on turn-
ing the animal on its back, I discovered
it to be a female, and a mother, and by
the enlargement of her teats, had evi-
dently been suckling her young. From
this circumstance. I supposed the bear

had made inroads on her lair, and pro-
bably had destroyed her kittens. 1 was
the more convinced of this from the fact
that I never knew from my own experi-
ence, nor could I learn from the oldest
hunters of my acquaintance, an instance
wherein a bear and a panther engaged
in combat ; and again, no circumstance
but the above would be sufficient to awa
ken that vindictive perseverance in the
passions of a panther, which would lead
to the annihilation of so formidable an
animal as a bear. Cabinet of Natural
History, and American Field Sports.

The Cotton Plant

rwiHis plant grows spontaneously in the

I ' hot or tropical portions of the globe.

I It derives its name from the Arabian

word Koton; and is one of the four

great materials designed by Providence

for human clothing flax, wool and silk

being the other three. It is remarkable

that neither of these useful articles was

the natural product of Europe. All were

indigenous to Asia. Cotton and flax

were also natives of Africa and America.

Cotton, which is the most important

of these articles, was the last to be gen-

erally diffused. Silk, wool and linen
were in use three or four thousand years
ago, but cotton was introduced at a later
date, and up to the time of our Saviour,
was almost unknown as a material for
clothing, except in India. Even in the
middle ages, we hear no mention of
cotton garments in Europe. The Chinese,
who have taken the lead in so many arts,
did not adopt cotton for use till the elev-
enth century, though, for four hundred
years previous, they had cultivated it as
an ornamental shrub in their gardens.
Even at the present day, China imports
the wool of this plant for manufacture.

Cotton was grown, to a small extent,
in the United States, nearly two hundred
years ago; but it was not extensively
introduced till many years after. In
1786, Mr. Madison, writing to a friend,
says, " there is no reason to doubt that
the United States will one day become a
great cotton producing country."

In 1792, the whole crop of the coun-
try was only 138,328 Ibs. ; 1795, it was
6,276,300 Ibs.; and in 1842, it was
783,221,800 Ibs. ! ! !

148

THE ELECTION OF PRESIDENT.

About two thirds of this immense
quantity goes to Europe, chiefly to Eng-
land, and some to France. Nearly one
third is used in the manufactures of the
United States. At Lowell, in Massachu-

setts, the several establishments make
about 75 millions of yards of cotton cloth
every year; and use almost 23 millions
of pounds of cotton wool, annually.

Vie to of Washington.

The Election of President,

fHAT an agitation seems to shake
this whole country from Maine to
Louisiana ! By day we hear the
shout of mighty gatherings of the
people, and by night, torch-light proces-
sions are seen throwing their lights and
shadows along the streets. Hickory poles
lift their tall tops to the skies on every
hand, and flags and streamers are wav-
ing in every breeze, and on every side.
The names of Polk and Dallas are seen
dancing amid the stars and stripes, in one
direction, and those of Clay and Freling-
huysen, in another. Even many of the
boys and girls have hoisted their flags
and play whig and democrat, like their
fathers ! Perhaps both child and parent,
in many cases, know just about as much
of what this all means the one as the
other.

It would be a long story to tell all

about the election of President ; but we
must at least say a few words about it.
Every four years the people of this
country choose a man to rule over this
great nation of twenty millions of people.
The way the election or choice is made
is this : the people of each of the twenty-
six states, choose certain persons, called
Electors, and these meet together, and
cast their votes for President. The per-
son who has the highest number of votes
is chosen, and he removes to the city of
Washington, where he lives in a fine
edifice, called the White House. He
holds his office for four years, and then
another election of President takes place,
as above described.

The two leading candidates for Presi-
dent, at this time, are Henry Clay of
Kentucky, and James K. Polk of Ten-

BENJAMIN CONSTANDT IRISH WIT-DR. WATTS.

149

BENJAMIN CONSTANDT. This celebra- !
ted French orator had a cat which was so
great a pet that she attended him in the
morning before he got up, followed him
into his study after breakfast, and played
and reposed where she liked. One day,
when Constandt was expected to make an
important speech in the chamber of depu-
ties, his friends, finding that he was absent
after his time from the arena, came to
seek him at his house, and going into
his study, found him quietly reading some
book that had evidently nothing to do
with the matter in hand ; and when they
told him that everybody was waiting for
him, " What can I do ? " said he ; " look
there ; my cat is sleeping in the sun on
the papers I have prepared for my speech,
and till she wakes, how can I take her
off them?"

IRISH WIT. A poor Irishman, on en-
tering a village in England, observed a
board on the corner of the street, pro-
hibiting public begging. He inarched
straight to the parsonage, and asked to
see the minister ; after a little hesitation
the girl admitted him to the study. Pat
immediately slipped up alongside the
minister, and whispered into his ear,
"Your reverence will please give me
something in private, and bad luck catch
me if I mention it." Pat's plan answered
the purpose ; the minister was amused
at the poor starving fellow before him,
and Pat retired from the audience, ask-
ing down blessings on the " minister, his
wife and childer good luck to the whole
of them ! "

HE who would reap well, must sow well.

Monument to Dr. Watts,

Dr. Watts,

THERE are few persons, whose names
are -recorded in history, to whom
mankind are more indebted than
Isaac Watts, the author of the Hymns
for Infant Minds, and of the version of
the Psalms in common use for sacred
music. How many thousands of children
have had their minds touched with reli-
gious emotions, by reading his juvenile
rhymes ! how many millions of grown up
persons have had their piety elevated, by
the influence of his sacred songs !

This great and good man was born at
Southampton, England, July 17, 1674.
He displayed good talents at an early
age, and wrote pleasing verses in his

15C

TEXAS.

childhood. He was educated at London,
and became in due time a Dissenting
minister. Though his health was always
feeble, he discharged his pastoral duties
with zeal and fidelity, and found time to
write many good books. Those we have
already mentioned are the most celebra-
ted, because they have proved to be the
most extensively useful.

Dr. Watts' life affords abundant proof,
that a man even of frail constitution, and
possessing by no means wonderful geni-
us, may yet do incalculable good to man-
kind, provided he has a heart warmed
with piety toward God, and kind, tender
emotions toward his fellow men. How
different is such a life, from that of the
conqueror, or miser, or lover of pleasure ;
and how different must be the estimate
which the All Wise makes of it, from
what he does of the man who lives only
for himself whoever he may be !

Texas.

Is the whigs and democrats are talking
a great deal about Texas, some of
our young readers are desirous of
knowing something about it. We
therefore propose to give a brief account
of it.

This country lies on the Gulf of Mex-
ico, and is bounded on the north and east
by the United States, on the south by
the Gulf of Mexico, and on the west by
Mexico. The people of the republic
claim the country to the Rio del Norte
on the west. If we take this boundary,
its whole extent is about 300,000 square
miles, and is eight times as large as New

England. It contains nearly 250,000,000

of acres.

The western regions are mountainous,
and are said to abound in mineral wealth.
The remaining portions of the territory
are diversified with hill and dale, though
the general aspect has a level character.
The rivers are numerous, and the water
pure.

Texas presents a variety of soil. This
is divided into three kinds, river bot-
toms, bottom prairies, and high prairies.
These are all rich, deep, and productive.
The climate of Texas is very fine for a
hot country. The low grounds are un-
wholesome, but the higher portions are
otherwise. Snow is seldom known in
the southern districts, and the winter
seems like our spring.

The productions are numerous. All
kinds of grain and garden vegetables
thrive here. Besides these, sweet pota-
toes, sugar cane, tobacco, coffee, indigo,
vanilla, cotton, silk, hemp, flax, honey,
wax, cochineal, are easily produced . The
soil and climate are particularly favorable
to cotton. Of this and many other pro-
ducts, two crops may be obtained in a
year.

Among the animals, wild horses, buf-
falo, deer, and a great variety of smaller
game are abundant. Gold and silver
abound in the mountains, and coal, iron
ore, and salt are found in other parts of
the country.

Texas formerly belonged to Mexico,
but a good many people from the United
States having settled there, they began
to talk, about ten years ago, of making
themselves independent. A convention,
assembled in March, 1835, and made a
declaration to that effect. On the 21st

TEXAS.

151

of (he following April, a great battle took
place, at San Jacinto, in which the Mex-
ican General Santa Anna was defeated
and taken prisoner. From this time,
the country has remained free from in-
vasion, but Mexico still claims it as a
province and threatens to reduce it again
to subjection.

The number of inhabitants in all Texas
is probably not equal to that of Boston, j
They are, however, increasing. The
people live for the most part in poor huts, |
but some good houses are to be found.
There are a few churches and some
schools. But although the climate is
fine, and food is abundant, those who go
to reside there, from the settled portions
of the United States, must live without
many of the comforts which they had
formerly enjoyed. Slavery is tolerated,
and may people do not wish that a new
slave region should be added to the
United States. The whigs are opposed
to its annexation ; and the democrats are
in favor of it.

The following description of a wed-
ding which took place in 1842, is fur-
nished by a Scotch traveller, and will
show how people marry and are given
in marriage in this new country.

" After sixteen miles' journey down a
river by moonlight, and as many more
across the rough and sea-like bay of Gal-
veston, enlivened by merry jocund talk
all the way, we arrived about dawn at the
new settlement of the Rock family. It
was a large deserted barn or warehouse
near Clare Creek The family was al-
ready up and stirring, and engaged in
active preparation for the important cere-
mony; and, to my surprise, the supply
of eatables and drinkables was both

varied and great all, however, being
presents from the bridegroom, one Luke,
a wealthy land owner for Texas, in pos-
session of much cleared ground, and
many hundred head of cattle. It may
be matter of surprise that a man well to
do in the world should have chosen a
bride so every way rude and uneducated ;
but in Texas women are scarce, and then
the lover might have looked far before
he could have found a more cheerful and
good natured companion, more willing to
learn, more likely to be loving, faithful,
and true, than Betsy Rock.

The blushing bride received me in a
cotton gown, shoes and stockings, and
other articles of civilized clothing pre-
viously unknown to her, and in which she
felt sufficiently awkward. But Luke
had sent them, and Betsy wished to ap-
pear somebody on her wedding day.
About eight o'clock the visiters began to
arrive. First came a boat full of men
and women from Galveston, bringing
with them a negro fiddler, without whom
little could have been done. Then came
Dr. Worcester and his lady from St.
Leon, in a canoe ; after them Col. Brown,
from Anahuac, in his dug-out; and,
about nine, the bridegroom and four male
and an equal number of female com-
panions on horseback, the ladies riding
either before or behind the gentlemen on
pillions. Ere ten, there were thirty odd
persons assembled, when a most substan-
tial breakfast was sat down to, chiefly
consisting of game, though pork, beef,
coffee, and, rarer still, bread, proved that
Luke had had a hand in it.

This meal being over, the boat in
which the party from Galveston had
come up, and which was an open craft

152

TEXAS.

for sailing or pulling, was put in requi-
sition to convey the bride and bridegroom
to the nearest magistrate, there to plight
their troth. The distance to be run was
six miles with a fair wind going, but
dead against us on our return. The
party consisted of Luke, who was a
young man of powerful frame, but rather
unpleasant features ; the bride and bride's
maid, (Mary Rock officiating in this ca-
pacity,) papa of course, myself as captain,
and eight men to pull us back. The
breeze was fresh, the craft a smart sailer,
the canvass was rap full, and all there-
fore being in our favor, we reached West
Point, the residence of Mr. Parr, the
magistrate, in less than an hour.

We found our Texian Solon about to
start in chase of a herd of deer, just re-
ported by his son as visible, and being
therefore in a hurry, the necessary for-
malities were gone through, the fee paid,
and the usual document in the possession
of the husband in ten minutes. The
eye of the old squatter was moistened as
he gave his child away; some natural
tears she shed, but dried them soon ; and
presently everybody was as merry as
ever.

No sooner were the formalities con-
cluded, than we returned to the boat, and
to our great delight found that, close-
hauled, we could almost make the de-
sired spot. The wind had shifted a
point, and ere ten minutes, we were
again clean full, the tide with us, and the
boat walking the waters at a noble rate.
All looked upon this as a good omen
and were proportionably merrier. About
one o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Charles Luke
were presented by old Rock to the assem-
bled company at the barn ; and, after an

embrace from her mother, the bride led
the way accompanied by her lord and
master, to the dinner table.

The woods, prairies, and waters, as
well as the Galveston market, had all
liberally contributed their share of prov-
ender. Wild turkeys, ducks, geese,
haunches of venison, were displayed,
beside roast beaf, pork, red-fish, Irish and
sweet potatoes, pumpkin and apple pie,
and an abundant supply of whiskey,
brandy, and Hollands, without which a
fete in Texas is nothing thought of. An
hour was consumed in eating and drink-
ing when Sambo was summoned to
take his share in the day's proceedings.
Tables, such as they were, were cleared
away, the floor swept, partners chosen,
and, despite the remonstrance of one
of the faculty present, Dr. Worcester,
against dancing so shortly after a heavy
meal, all present, the dissentient included,
began to foot it most nimbly.

Never was there seen such dancing
since the world began, never such laugh-
ing, such screaming, such fiddling. Every
one took off shoes and stockings. I was
compelled to do so, to save the toes of
my especial partner, and to the rapid
music of the old negro, reels and country
dances were rattled off at a most sur-
prising rate. All talked, and joked, and
laughed, such couples as were tired re-
treating to seek refreshment ; but the
dancing never ceasing, except at rare
intervals, when Sambo gave in from
sheer fatigue and thirst. Such was the
state of things until about nine o'clock,
when a sudden diminution in our num
ber was noticed by all present. The
bride and bridegroom were missed, as
well as the four couples who accompa

A PHYSICIAN'S DOG.

153

nied Luke. Rushing into the open air,
we descried the husband and wife on
their fine black horse galloping beneath
the pale moon across the prairie, escorted
by their friends. A loud shout was given
them, and those who remained, returned
to the house to renew the dancing which
was kept up until a late hour. It was
four days after my departure ere I re-
gained my companions at Todville.

Such was the wedding of one of those
hardy pioneers of civilization, whose
descendants may yet be members of
a great and powerful nation."

A PHYSICIAN'S DOG. An eminent phy-
sician of Chenango county, New York,
had a faithful dog named Bent, that al-
ways attended him in his visits around
the neighboring villages. He could never
prevail on him to take a place in his ve-
hicle, but he would follow him on foot
until the doctor stopped ; when, the in-
stant he alighted from the vehicle, Bent
would spring in and protect his property.
If any one dared to approach the horse,
the dog gave him to understand, by a
most significant growl, that he must be
careful how he trespassed on the rights
of his master. At home, when his mis-
tress had been washing, and left her
clothes in the yard over night to dry,
she had only to call the attention of Bent
to the circumstance, and he would keep
guard faithfully until morning.

The health of the doctor became seri-
ously impaired, and he made a voyage
to Europe with the hope of regaining it
A few days after his departure the dog
became very uneasy, and scoured the
village in search of him. Having become

evidently satisfied that his master was
not to be found in the immediate vicinity
of his residence, he made an excursion
about the country, to the distance of fifty
or sixty miles, and stopped at every
house where his master had ever been,
apparently in the hope of finding him.
He was gone nearly three weeks, but
finally he came home, and gave up fur-
ther search in despair. Upon the return
of the doctor, the dog manifested his joy
in the most sagacious manner. He threw
his fore paws around his neck, and em-
braced him very affectionately. From
that moment he was unwilling to go into
the kitchen at night, until he had satisfied
himself that the doctor had gone to rest.
He would insist on entering his bedroom,
and would raise himself upon the bed and
look in to see if he was there. At the
doctor's death, the dog seemed to be per-
fectly conscious of the loss he had sus-
tained, and testified his sorrow in so af-
fecting a manner, that it was remarked
by every person that saw him.

GENEROUS REVENGE. A young man,
desirous of getting rid of his dog, took
it along with him to the Seine. He hired
a boat, and rowing into the middle of the
stream, threw the animal in. The poor
creature attempted to climb up the side
of the boat, but his master, whose inten-
tion was to drown him, constantly pushed
him back with his oar. In doing this,
he himself fell into the water, and would
certainly have been drowned had not the
dog, as soon as he saw his master strug-
gling in the stream, suffered the boat to
float away, and held him above water, till
assistance arrived, and his life was saved.

154

PROGNOSTICS OF THE WEATHER.

Prognostics of the Weather,

!T is a matter of great convenience, to
be able to tell, beforehand, what the
weather is to be. Some persons rely
upon the Almanac, but let me tell you
that anybody can guess at the weather,
as well as an Almanac-maker. There
are certain signs, however, which fore-
tell changes of weather, many of which
have been noticed for thousands of years.
Swift says, that

Careful observers may foretell the hour,

By sure prognostics, when to dread a shower, &c.

Thus persons who follow the sea, learn
to predict, with great certainty, what the
weather will be for some time to come.
-Farmers, and other people also, who live
in the country, where the business de-
pends much upon the weather, get to
understand the signs which foretell a
change with tolerable accuracy.

Dr. Darwin has collected many of
these signs in the following verses.

The hollow winds begin to blow;

The clouds look black, the glass is low ;

The soot falls down, the spaniels sleep j

And spiders from their cobwebs peep.

Last night the sun went pale to bed ;

The moon in halos hid her head.

The boding shepherd heaves a sigh,

For, see, a rainbow spans the sky.

The walls are damp, the ditches smell,

'Closed is the light-red pimpernel.

Hark ! how the chairs and tables crack,

Old Betty's joints are on the rack ;

Her corns with shooting pains torment her,

And to her "bed untimely send her.

Loud quack the ducks, the sea-fowls cry,

The distant hills are looking nigh.

How restless are the snorting swine !

The busy flies disturb the kine.

Low o'er the grass the swallow wings,

The cricket, too, how sharp he sings !

Puss on the hearth, with velvet paws,

Sits wiping o'er her whiskered jaws.

The smoke from chimneys right ascends,

Then spreading, back to earth it bends.

The wind unsteady veers around,

Or s-ettling in the south is found.

Through the clear stream the fishes rise,

And nimbly catch the incautious flies.

The glow-worms, numerous, clear, and bright,

Illumed the dewy hill last night

At dusk the squalid toad was seen,

Like quadruped, stalk o'er the green

The whirling wind the dust obeys,

And in the rapid eddy plays.

The frog has changed his yellow vest,

And in a russet coat is drest.

The sky is green, the air is still,

The mellow blackbird's voice is shrill.

The dog, so altered is his taste,

Quits mutton bones, on grass to feast.

Behold the rooks, how odd their flight !

They imitate the gliding kite,

And seem precipitate to fall,

As if they felt the piercing ball.

The tender colts on back do lie,

Nor heed the traveller passing by.

In fiery red the sun doth rise,

Then wades through clouds to mount the skies.

'T will surely rain, we see 't with sorrow,

No working in the fields to-morrow.

In order to enable the reader to study
the subject of signs of the weather, I
will arrange those most relied upon, in
alphabetical order, for convenient refer-
ence ; remarking by the way, that " all
signs of rain are said to fail in dry
weather." By this you must understand
that the signs here set down are only
probable, not infallible, signs.

Aches and Pains in the body, of vari-
ous kinds, frequently forebode rain. Per-
sons, for example, subject to rheumatism,
feel more pain in the affected limb or part
of the body before a change of weather,
particularly when fair is to be exchanged
for wet. Old, carious teeth are also
troublesome, and pains in the face, ears,

PROGNOSTICS OF THE WEATHER.

155

and gums are sometimes experienced.
Limbs once broken also ache at the place
of their union, and various other aches
and pains have been from time imme-
morial found to be signs of changes of
the weather.

Animals, by some peculiar sensibility
to electrical or other atmospheric influ-
ence, often indicate changes of weather
by their peculiar motions and habits.

Ants. An universal bustle and activ-
ity observed in ant hills may be gener-
ally regarded as a sign of rain. The
ants frequently appear all in motion
together and carry their eggs about from
place to place.

Asses. When asses bray more than
ordinary, particularly if they shake their
ears as if uneasy, it is said they predict
rain, and particularly showers. We have
noticed, that, in showery weather, a don-
key, confined in a yard near the house, has
brayed before every shower, and gener-
ally some minutes before the rain has
fallen, as if some electrical influence,
produced by the concentrating power of
the approaching rain-cloud, caused a
tickling in the windpipe of the animal,
just before the shower came up. What-
ever this electric state of the air preced-
ing a shower may be, it seems to be the
same that causes in other animals some
peculiar sensations, which makes the
peacock squall the pintado call " come-
back," and which creates a variety of
prognosticative motions in the different
species of the animal kingdom. .

An expressive English adage says,

When that the ass begins to bray,
Be sure we shall have rain that day.

We have, says the writer of the pre-

ceding, repeatedly been able to give our
hay-makers useful admonitions founded
solely on the braying of the ass. Thus
the proverb says truly,

'T is time to cock your hay and corn
When the old donkey blows his horn.

Barometer. There is no instrument
now more generally used for ascertaining
the coming weather than the barometer.
It may however be remarked, that it is
more from its rising or falling, than from
its height or lowness, that we are to infer
fair or foul weather. Generally speak-
ing, the rising of the mercury presages
clear fair weather, and its falling, foul
weather, as rain, snow, high winds, and
storms.

In very hot weather, the falling of the
mercury indicates thunder.

In winter, the rising indicates frost, and
in frosty weather, if the mercury fall
three or four divisions, there will follow
a thaw ; but in a continued frost, if the
mercury rise, it will snow.

When foul weather happens soon after
the falling of the mercury, expect but
little of it ; and, on the contrary, expect
but little fair weather when it proves fair
shortly after the mercury has risen.

In foul weather, when the mercury
rises much and high, and so continues
for two or three days before the foul
weather is quite over, then expect a con-
tinuance of fair weather to follow.

In fair weather, when the mercury
falls much and low, and thus continues
for two or three days before the rain
comes, then expect a great deal of wet,
and probably high winds.

The unsettled motion of the mercury
denotes uncertain and changeable weath-
er.

156

PROGNOSTICS OF THE WEATHER.

The words engraved on the register
plate of the barometer, it may be observ-
ed, cannot be strictly relied upon to cor-
respond exactly with the state of the
weather ; though it will in general agree
with them as to the mercury rising and
falling.

When the thermometer and barometer
rise together in summer, with rain in
large drops, a wholesome state of the
atmosphere is at hand.

A great and sudden rising of the ba-
rometer, that is to say, a great accession
of atmospherical pressure, will, in some
persons, occasion a slight temporary dif-
ficulty of hearing and tingling in the
ears, similar to that which is experienced
in descending from high mountains, or
from the air in balloons.

Bats. -When bats return soon to their
hiding places, and send forth loud cries,
bad weather may be expected.

Beetles flying about late in an even-
ing often foretell a fine day on the mor-
row.

Blue Sky. When there is a piece of
iblue sky seen in the forenoon of a rainy
.day, big enough, as the proverb says, " to
make a Dutchman a pair of breeches,"
we shall probably have a fine afternoon.

Calm. A dead calm often precedes a
violent gale ; and sometimes the calmest
and clearest mornings, in certain seasons,
are followed by a blowing showery day.
Calms are forerunners of the hurricanes
of the West Indies, and other tropical
climes.

Candles, as well as lamps, often afford
good prognostics of weather. When the
flames of candles flare and snap, or burn
with an unsteady or dim light, rain, and
frequently wind also, are found to follow.

The excrescences from the wicks called
funguses also denote rain and wind.

Cats are said, when they wash their
faces, or when they seem sleepy and
dull, to foretell rain. The same is said
of them when they appear irritable and
restless, and play with their tails.

Cattle, when they gambol about in
their pastures more than ordinary, fore-
show rain, and in general a change of
weather.

Chilliness, and a sensation of cold
greater than the indication of tempera-
ture by the thermometer leads us to ex-
pect, often forebode rain, as they show
that there is already an increased moist-
ure in the air, which experience has
shown to be referable to the decomposi-
tion and the first formation of cloud.

Clouds of any sort, when they increase
much, portend rain, particularly at even-
tide ; when they are very red they often
foreshow wind ; when they form a dapple-
gray sky, with north wind, fair weather ;
when they rapidly form and evaporate,
variable weather. Clouds, fretted and
spotted, covering the sky after fine weath-
er, or wavy, like the undulation of the
sea, forbode rain.

Colors, of various kinds in the sky and
clouds, tokens severally of different phe-
nomena. Much red always forebodes
wind and rain, particularly in the morn-
ing; in the evening it sometimes indi-
cates a fine day, particularly if the morn-
ing be gray. A proverb says,

An evening red and a morning gray
Will set the traveller on his way ;
But an evening gray and a morning red
Will pour down rain on the pilgrim's head.

A greenish color of the sky near to
the horizon, often shows that we may

PROGNOSTICS OF THE WEATHER.

157

expect more wet weather. The most
beautiful and varied tints are seen in
autumn, and in that season the purple
of the falling leaf is often a sign of a
continuation of fine weather.

When the clouds become more colored
than ordinary, and particularly when red
prevails, it sometimes indicates an east
wind.

Cocks, when they crow at unwonted
hours, often foretell a change of weather.
We have often noticed this before rain.
But this is by no means so certain a sign
as many others ; because, at particular
seasons, and in particular kinds of
weather, cocks habitually crow all day.
During the calm, still, dry, dark, and
warm weather sometimes occurring in
the winter months, and which may be
called the halcyon days of our climate,
cocks keep a constant crowing all night
and day. There appear to be three prin-
cipal cock Growings in ordinary weather,
namely, about midnight or soon after,
about three in the morning, and at day-
break ; the latter is never omitted.

We have noticed, however, that when
cocks crow all day, in summer particu-
larly, a change to rain has frequently
followed.

Cream and Milk, when they turn sour
in the night, often indicate thereby that
thunder storms will probably shortly take
place. The effect is referable to the elec-
tricity of the air at the time.

Currents of Air change their course
frequently in the higher regions of the
air first, and are afterwards continued to
the earth's surface ; hence we can often
foresee a change of the wind by observ-
ing the way in which the clouds above
move. Both the strength of a coming

gale, and the point of the compass from
which it will blow, may usually be fore-
seen some time beforehand by noticing
the velocity and direction of the clouds
floating along in the upper current, or by
means of balloons.

Dolphins or porpoises, when they come
about a ship, and sport and gambol on.
the surface of the water, betoken a storm ;
hence they are regarded as unlucky
omens for sailors. According to ancient
fable, they formerly offered themselves in
times of storm to convey shipwrecked
mariners to the shore ; but this is, of
course, a story of mere human inven-
tion.

Dogs, before rain, grow sleepy and
dull, and lie drowsily before the fire, and
are not easily aroused. They also often
eat grass, which indicates that their stom-
achs, like ours, are apt to be disturbed
before a change of weather. It is also
said to be a sign of change of weather
when dogs howl and bark much in the
night; they certainly do this much at
the full moon, which has given rise to
the saying relative to the dogs that bay
at the moon. Dogs also dig in the earth
with their feet before rain, and often
make deep holes in the ground.

Dreams of a hurrying and frightful
nature, also incubus, and other symptoms
of oppressed and imperfect sleep, are fre-
quent indications that the weather is
changed or about to change. Many per-
sons experience these nocturnal symp-
toms on a change of wind, particularly
when it becomes east. In all these cases
the effect seems to be produced immedi-
ately on the nervous system, and through
it on the stomach, so that the stomach
shall again re-act on the sensorium.

158

PROGNOSTICS OF THE WEATHER.

Drains, and sespools smell stronger
than usual before rain.

Drowsiness and heavy sleep, both in
men and animals, often forebode a heavy
fall of rain or snow.

Ducks. The loud and clamorous
quackings of ducks, geese, and other
waterfowl, are signs of rain. It is also
a. sign of rain when they wash them-
selves, and flutter about in the water
more than usual.

Ears, when there is a tingling noise,
or what is called a singing in them, af-
ford thereby a sign of a change of weath-
er, not simply of rain, as has been said,
but of barometrical pressure in general.
The sudden increase of pressure, like
the descent from high mountains, or from
balloons, causes in many persons a tem-
porary deafness and roaring in the ears.

Feathers, pieces of flue, or dry leaves,
playing about on the surface of ponds
and other waters, as if agitated by light
and varying eddies of wind, often fore-
bode rain.

Fishes, when they bite more readily,
and gambol near the surface of the
streams or ponds, foreshow rain.

Flowers are many of them excellent
indicators of the approaching weather by
their opening and shutting, and other
motions.

Fleeces, and Mares' Tails, as they are
called, seen in the sky, are signs of rain
and wind. By fleeces are meant those
clouds which look like fleeces of wool.

Flies, and various sorts of volatile in-
sects, become more troublesome, and sting
and bite more than usual before, as well
as in the intervals of rainy weather, par-
ticularly in autumn, when they are very
numerous, and often become a great nui-

sance. This observation applies to sev-
eral sorts of flies. The horse-flies like-
wise of all sorts are more troublesome
before the fall of rain, and particularly
when the weather is warm.

Forests. The hollow sound of forests,
while the wind is roaring among the
woods, is a sign of rain and of storms.

Geese washing, or taking wing with a
clamorous noise, and flying to the water,
portend rain. Geese, by the way, are
excellent guards to a house against fire or
thieves.

Gnats afford several indications.
When they fly in a vortex in the beams
of the setting sun, they forebode fair
weather : when they frisk about more
widely in the open air at eventide, they
foreshow heat ; and when they assemble
under trees, and bite more than usual,
they indicate rain.

Halo. When this phenomenon is ob-
served round the sun or moon, it shows
that hail, snow, or rain, according to the
season, will soon follow. Colored or
double halos are still more certain indi-
cations of rain, and often of wind also.
When mock suns or mock moons, bands
of light, and other unusual phenomena
attend halos, a peculiar condition of the
atmosphere is indicated. The proper
halo or luminous ring, is distinguished
from the corona or luminous disk, which
is sometimes a forerunner of rain also,
but is a thing of more frequent occur-
rence. When halos are very red, wind
almost always follows.

Headaches often foretell a change of
weather in persons subject to such com-
plaints. There is also some obscure
change of weather near to the periods
of new and full moon, which causes a

PROGNOSTICS OF THE WEATHER.

159

certain ephemeral headache that begins
usually in the morning, gets worse about
two o'clock, and subsides in the evening,
attended with an irritated stomach ; it
much resembles the ordinary bilious
headache from repletion, but differs from
that which follows immediately on a cer-
tain sort of indigestion. Indeed, most
periodical disorders seem to be connected
with some atmospheric changes. And
it is very remarkable, that they should
so often have their worst paroxysms and
the crisis of their terms, about the time
of the conjunction and the opposition of
the moon.

Hogs, when they shake the stalks of
corn and spoil them, often indicate rain :
also when they rub in the dust, the same
or some similar phenomenon may be ex-
pected. When they run squeaking about,
and throw up their heads with a peculiar
jerk, windy weather is about to com-
mence : hence the Wiltshire proverb,
that " Pigs can see the wind."

Horses, as well as some other domestic
animals, foretell the coming of rain by
starting more than ordinary, and appear-
ing in other respects restless and uneasy
on the road.

Incubus or nightmare, though it com-
monly comes of a loaded stomach, will
nevertheless often occur on the occasion
of a change of weather in the night,
which seems to produce the effect by dis-
turbing the digestive organs. The same
observation holds good with regard to
those frightful and impressive dreams
which some persons have in particular
kinds of weather, and about the period
of change.

Lamps, from the ma iner in which they
burn, forebode change of weather. Be-

fore rain they burn less bright, the flame
snaps and crackles, and a sort of fungous
excrescence grows from the wicks, which
Virgil was mindful to put among his
prognostics of rain and wind.

Mare's Tails, or cormoid curlclouds in
the sky, forebode wind, and sometimes
rain.

Moon. The prognostics from the looks
of the moon are various, and were known
of old. When she looks fiery, or red,
like the color of copper, wind is gener-
ally to be suspected ; when pale, or con-
fused with ill-defined edges, rain ; when
very clear and bright, fine weather.

When the moon is near the full, or new,
people are more irritable than at other
times, and headaches and diseases of
various kinds are worse. Insanity at
these times has its worst paroxysms, and
hence the origin of the term lunacy.
Timber cut in the last quarter of the
moon is said to be much the most dura-
ble. About the time of full moon the
weather is generally fair. The changes
of the moon are supposed to bring
changes of weather.

Thus we have given a chapter upon
signs, and, although they are not all to
be relied upon, they may be worthy of
notice.

" JOB PRINTING JOB PRINTING ! " ex-
claimed an old woman, the other day, as
she peeped over her specs at the adver-
tising page of a country paper " Poor
Job; they've kept him printing, week
after week, ever since I first larnt to read,
and if he was n't the most patientest man
that ever was, he never could have stood
it so long, nohow ! "

160

THE BIRD OF PARADISE.

The Bird of Paradise,

SONG. WORDS BY MART HOWITT. MUSIC BY O. J. WEBB.

-O- 1^

-*-

-*- }- -*T -- -- -*-

1. Oh love - ly bird of Par - a - disc, I'll go where thou dost

-^FP^*.^

4 ' " ' j*

J a

" j-

'4f *

1 j H

-----I i- I

\- -*

. ,

. A!

* ~

' - fc f

r *~

go ! Rise

!i_-^.

high-er yet, and high - er yet, For a

stormy wind

I
doth
~T

" ' <_

-I

2 :

^ :

ZZI

- -

~i.. ._

1 ,

_JL^

i *-

-0-rO J-

blow, Rise higher yet, and high - er yet, For a stormy wind doth blow.

Now up above the tempest,
"We are sailing in the calm,
Amid the golden sunshine,
And where the air is balm.

Oh gentle bird of Paradise,
Thy happy lot I '11 share ;
And go where'er thou goest
On through the sunny air.

Whate'er the food thou eatest,
Bird, I will eat it too ;
And ere it reach the stormy earth
Will drink with thee the dew !

Is thy nest made of the sunshine,
And the fragrance of the spice,
And cradled round with happiness,
Sweet bird of Paradise ?

MERRY'S MUSEUM,

Vol. VIII.

DECEMBER, 1844.

No. 6.

r|i HE autumn is past, and winter is upon

' us. Come, boys, get your caps and

mittens, your greatcoats and your

* thick shoes ; come, girls, put on your

wadded hoods and your warm shawls,

and let us have a ramble.

How changed is the aspect of every-
thing around us ! The trees have put off
their garments ; the flowers have per-
ished ; ite green grass is withered and
dead. How silent is the forest ! Of all
the merry songsters tha f . made it ring
with joyous music, not one remains be-
hind. Even the partridge and the quail

VOL. VIII. 11

have retired to the thick woods, and left
their wonted haunts alone and desolate.
Even the squirrel now lies late in the
morning, and retires early to bed, seem-
ing to take little pleasure in scampering
about the woods, now that he has them
all to himself.

December is indeed a chill and bluster-
ing month ; and here in New England,
we might almost envy our friends of
Georgia, Alabama and Louisiana, where
the weather is still mild and pleasant.
However, in a few days the snow will
come, and the merry sleigh bells will

162

FLOWERS.

remind us of winter sports, of snow-
balling, building snow forts, sliding, ska-
ting and coasting. Nor are these the
only pleasures of winter in our northern
climate. When the day's sport is done,
how pleasant it is to gather around the
fire-side ; to play blind man's buff; to tell
stories, study the lessons for school, and
read Merry's Museum. After all, winter
has its comforts as well as summer.

HOT WATER. An Irish servant dis-
covering one morning that a part of the
wood work of the kitchen chimney was
on fire, rushed up stairs to his master
with the alarming intelligence. Down

the master ran, to see the state of the
matter. A large kettle of water was upon
the fire. " Why, Pat, why don't you put
it out? there's plenty of water close
by." " I cant, sure ; would your honor
have me to pour boiling water on it
sure?"

There is a small house in the upper
part of the city of New York, on which
are two signs, put there some years since
by a Dutchman. They run thus :

" Apartments to let, either fried, stew-
ed, raw, roasted, or in the shell."

" Oysters can be furnished with meals
and lodgings at $2 per day."

Flowers,

I HE love of flowers seems to be univer-
sal ; even children admire them, and
to form a bouquet seems to be almost
as natural as to put food into the
mouth. The Indians of Mexico, barba-
rians as they were in many things, were
passionately fond of flowers. Even to
this day you may see, in the city of Mex-
ico, the Indians, reduced to a state of
poverty and degradation, still retaining
the passion which marked them in the
days of Montezuma. In their stalls
where they sell fruits and vegetables,
they seem almost smothered with flowers,
which are every day renewed.

But there is an interest in flowers
beyond their mere beauty. However
graceful their forms, however charming
their colors, or sweet their perfume,
there is still more pleasure to be de-
rived from the study of them in respect
to their botanical characters, their forma-
tion, their mode of propagation, &c. A

person, in looking over a meadow, might
fancy that all was confusion, but if he
will investigate the subject, he will soon
discover that all these variouc plants can
be grouped into certain families, bearing
the most curious and interesting relations
to each other.

We cannot, therefore, too earnestly re-
commend the scientific study of plants
to our young readers. It is not only an
innocent and pleasing pursuit it not
only leads to much useful knowledge,
but it lifts the heart in admiration to that
great and good Being, who, in providing
for the wants of his creatures, has min-
gled beauty and pleasure with almost
every cup of life.

A PERFECT orchestra consists o&eighty-
two stringed instruments, twenty-two
wind instruments, and one hundred and
forty-six voices; in all, two hundred
and fifty, with an organ.

DICK BOLDHERO

163

Dick Boldhero,

CHAPTER XL

HE continued our journey with great
industry, generally travelling about
forty miles a day. My Indian guide
had the usual taciturnity of. his
race, but occasionally he entered into
conversation, and I then discovered that
he had led a life of adventure, and pos-
sessed the happy talent of describing
what he had seen. I had by this time
acquired a knowledge of the Spanish
language, and I therefore found his nar-
ratives quite a resource during the tedious
hours during which we seemed to be
creeping like snails over the almost
interminable plain.

He had frequently officiated before as
a guide over the road we were now trav-
elling, and he gave me an account of
several occurrences in which he had
taken part, which might have graced the
pages of romance.

It appears that the Pampas are inhab-
ited by a peculiar race of men, called
Gauchos. These are the descendants of
Spaniards of wild and irregular charac-
ter, who had fled from civilized society
and settled upon the plains, subsisting
almost entirely by hunting and rearing
cattle. The son followed the vocation of
the father, and thus several succeeding
generations of hunters had been scattered
over these prairies. At the time of which
I am speaking, they consisted of consid-
erable numbers of people, though they
lived ap^rt from each other in families,
dwelling in small huts, and spending the
greater part of their time on horseback.
These men generally respected travel-
lers, but occasionally they would take to

the highway and commit desperate acts
of robbery.

There were small bands of Indians,
also, whose homes were along the south-
ern borders of the Pampas, but possessing
fleet horses, they occasionally made in-
cursions even into remote portions of the
plains, and after having struck a sudden
blow upon some unprotected family, they
would speed to another and another,
marking their route with blood and con-
flagration. Of these wild and savage
people, my guide told me various anec-
dotes. I have not space to recount them,
but in order to give an idea of the scenes
which are constantly occurring in this
remote region of the world, I will repeat
one of the tales which he told me.

A few years previous to the period of
which I am speaking, a wealthy. Spanish
gentleman, with his daughter about eigh-
teen years of age, was travelling from
Chili to Buenos Ayres. They were in a
carriage drawn by four horses, and were
attended by several servants, two of
whom were on horseback. One night,
as they were passing through a thicket
of tall grass, a terrible cry burst upon
their ears, and at the same moment about
a dozen savages sprung from their lurk-
ing places, and immediately assailed the
travelling party. The servants who were
armed discharged their pistols, but they
were speedily torn from their horses ; the
coachman was knocked from his seat,
and the two post-boys in their fright ran
away. The gentleman in the coach
threw open the door and rushed out; but
at the moment, he was laid prostrate, by
a blow, upon the earth.

Frightened at the sounds around them,
the horses in the carriage began to rear

164

DICK BOLDHERO.

and plunge, and then, suddenly springing
forward, ran with all their might. In a
few moments, they were lost to the view,
but the rattling of the wheels was heard
for a time, and was then suddenly ter-
minated by a heavy and crashing sound.

The pockets of the travellers were
soon rifled, and the Indians then depart-
ed in pursuit of the coach, leaving two
of the servants who had been engaged
in the fray dead upon the spot, and the
Spanish gentleman himself stunned by
the blows he had received.

At the distance of two miles, the sava-
ges found the coach overturned, and
reduced to a mere wreck. The young
lady within, overcome with terror, was
in a state of insensibility. Being taken
out, she was speedily restored. The
coach was then rifled, and the lady being
placed on horseback before one of the
savages, the party pushed forward across
the prairie in a southerly direction.

In the course of four days, they reached
their settlements, and the young lady,
whose name was Donna Marina, was
committed to the charge of a daughter
of one of the savage chiefs. Worn out
with fatigue and anxiety, she seemed *at
first indifferent to her fate; but in the
course of a few days, having recovered
her health and spirits, she became desir-
ous of knowing the fate that awaited
her. She then learned that a messenger
was to be despatched to Buenos Ayres,
where, it was ascertained, her father had
arrived, proposing to surrender his daugh-
ter for a ransom of 5000 dollars.

Understanding from the savage maiden
under whose care she was placed, that
no personal injury to herself was intend-
ed, she became tolerably calm. But it

chanced that there was among the In-
dians a fiery young warrior, whose father
was a Spaniard, his mother being an
Indian. He was born at one of the Span-
ish huts in the vicinity of Buenos Ayres,
and in his early days had acquired a taste
for the refinements of civilized life. But
his natural daring and love of adventure
had led him to join the wild inhabitants
of the Pampas, among whom he had
now become a celebrated leader,

At this period, he was in the bloom
of early manhood, and was remarkable
alike for the symmetry of his form, the
grace of his movements, and the manly
beauty of his countenance. Among the
women of the tribe, he was an object of
universal regard, on account of his fine
appearance, and even the stern old war-
riors could not withhold their admiration
at his achievements in the foray and the
field. Thus an object of universal adu-
lation, it may well be supposed that the
young warrior, whose name was Yorika,
had a pretty high estimate of himself.
He was not of the party who had cap-
tured the fair Marina; but when he heard
of the beauty of the maiden, he sought an
opportunity to see her. His wishes were
easily gratified by means of a little flat-
tery bestowed upon her keeper. Vanity
had led the youthful Indian to seek the
interview, but a deeper sentiment led him
frequently to renew it.

The beauty of the captive stole into
his heart, and doubtless, her gentle man-
ners awakened his recollections of scenes
that had been familiar in his childhood.
At all events, he was deeply enamored
of the Spanish maiden, and did not hesi-
tate to avow his passion. His overtures,
however, were sternly repelled ; and,

DICK BOLDHERO.

165

stung- to the quick, the fiery savage de-
termined to obtain by force the maiden
he could not win by affection.

During these events, the messenger
had communicated with the father of
Donna Marina at Buenos Ayres, and
brought a favorable answer to the propo-
sition of ransom. In two days a gentle-
man was to arrive at a designated point
to pay the required sum and receive the
captive. Preparations were immediately
made to carry the treaty into effect, and
in due time four men were despatched
with Donna Marina to meet the Spanish
agent. Yorika had been designated as
one of this party, but he excused him-
self, seeming to disdain a service which
offered so little of enterprize or adven-
ture.

The party set forward, and at the place
of meeting found the person whom they
expected, already in attendance. The
negotiation was speedily settled, the mo-
ney paid and the captive surrendered.
The savages, and the Spanish maiden,
now under the charge of her affianced
lover, also departed. The latter were
mounted on horseback, and by the light
of a summer moon they made their way
across the plain. Rejoicing in their re-
union after the distressing events which
had transpired, they rode side by side,
their hearts being often too full for utter-
ance.

At length their path led them into a
shallow vale thickly overgrown with wild
thistles. As they were passing through
this, a pistol was fired, and a ball whizzed
near the breast of the attendant of Donna
Marina. A moment after, the athletic
form of Yorika rose from the thicket and
sprung like a lion upon the object at

which his pistol had been aimed. The
Spaniard was immediately pulled from
his horse, and a desperate conflict ensued.
The superior strength of the Indian, how-
ever, prevailed, and he soon pressed the
form of his antagonist beneath him. He
drew his dirk, and was about to plunge
it into the breast of his foe.

At that critical instant, the Spaniard
brought his pistol to bear, and discharg-
ing it in the breast of the Indian, laid
him prostrate upon the earth. Bruised
and bleeding, he rose from the ground
and made his way to Marina. At first,
the girl shrunk back with horror, ima-
gining that it was the victorious Yorika,
who had come to claim her as his own.
But when her reason was restored, and
she learned the truth, she expressed her
joy and gratitude alike for the safety of
her lover and her own.

Such was one of the tales of my guide,
which beguiled the weariness of our
journey over the Pampas. He related
several narratives respecting the jaguar,
which is a kind of tiger infesting the
thickets which border upon the road.
One day, as we were passing through an
immense forest of thistles, ten feet in
height, and spreading out like an inter-
minable sea on every side, he pointed to
a spot where a traveller, on descending
from his horse, had been seized and torn
in pieces by one of these furious beasts.

Day after day, we continued our mo-
notonous course. Although it was \vin-
ter, the weather by no means answered
to the common idea of that season. We
had occasional rain, but it was seldom
colder than during our April or May.
Few incidents occurred to break the uni-
formity of our journey. One day appeared

.66

DICK BOLDHERO.

like another, and as we had no objects
by which we could mark our progress,
we seemed, like a ship in the waste of
waters, to stand still in the midst of the
shoreless desert. As we stood alone
upon the. bosom of the mighty prairie,
stretching out on every side, and blend-
ing itself with the sky, we seemed dwin-
dled into insects. Never have I felt such
a sense of nothingness as in the presence
of that mighty plain. In measuring my-
self by the gigantic scale which the
Pampas presented, it seemed that I might
be blotted from existence like the veriest
moth that fluttered in the breeze. It was
not until I turned my mind upon my
plans and prospects, my hopes and fears,
that my bosom began to swell again with
those powerful emotions which seem to
give importance to our existence and
enable us to triumph over the despond-
ency which often besets the heart, and
might otherwise sink us in despair.

The sense of loneliness, the yearning
for society, the longing to be restored to
the sympathy of human beings which
beset one in these solitudes, can only be
understood by experience. I doubtless
felt these the more from my youth and
the want of that stern habit of self-reli-
ance which is acquired by men who
pursue a life of hazard and adventure.
But I was becoming trained in the school
of experience, and day by day was
learning to sustain myself with my own
thoughts, plans and prospects.

We met few travellers upon the road.
Four men on horseback, and a company
with two vehicles, were all that we en-
countered in a distance of more than 500
miles. The latter consisted of some five
and twenty persons. They had a bag-

gage cart, which was a capacious, rude
uncouth-looking vehicle, with cane sides
and a roof covered with hides. The body
was balanced upon two prodigiously high
wheels for the convenience of passing
through rivers. The other vehicle was a
long coach, called a galera, and resem-
bled the modern omnibus ; the seats ran
sideways, and the door was at the end.
To each of these carriages there were
four horses, and a postilion to each
horse. Such is the ordinary equipment
of travellers upon the Pampas.

The post houses upon the road were
miserable tenements, generally of mud,
and affording scanty accommodation.
The lazy inhabitants seem to offer
the commonest civility with reluctance
or languid indifference. We occasion-
ally met with huts inhabited by squalid
Indians, who seemed sunk in indolence
and apathy. They were nearly naked,
yet they possessed a gentle and kindly
character. The herds of cattle upon the
plains furnish them abundance of meat,
and they parted with it freely, seeming
to be almost indifferent whether they
received compensation or not.

At the end of twenty days, we reached
the verge of the Pampas, and now began
to ascend the highlands, which rise by
gradations for the distance of nearly two
hundred miles, at the foot of the Andes.
Industriously pursuing our journey, we
rose step by step, and at last reached
a village situated in a deep gorge at the
foot of mountains that seemed to reach
the skies. Here we sold our horses, and
purchased mules, these animals being
considered safer in climbing the dizzy
precipices, over which our road now lay.

Being duly equipped, and having rested

DICK BOLDHERO.

167

three days, we departed and began to
creep up the frowning battlements of the
Andes. Sometimes we seemed lost in
deep and dark ravines ; sometimes we
threaded our way amid rocks that lifted
their shaggy pinnacles over our heads,
which seemed to threaten us with de-
struction, and sometimes, we reached a
lofty peak from which we could see the
rugged valley stretched out behind, and
still loftier pinnacles rising up to the
heavens in front. How striking the con-
trast between these savage mountains
and the level prairie ! yet the emotions
they excited were nearly the same ; the
same overpowering sense of vastness in
nature ; the same oppressive sense of
my own insignificance, visited me here
as upon the Pampas. There was, in-
deed, something exhilarating in the moun-
tain air, and the consciousness of danger
frequently experienced as we wound
along the edges of the mountains with a
yawning chasm of five hundred feet
below, imparted something of a romantic
interest to our journey. The scenery,
too, was often amazingly grand, and when
at last we reached the highest ridge of
the Andes, and I gazed upon its glittering
peaks covered with everlasting snow, I
experienced a sensation which I shall
never forget. They seemed indeed like
bluish-white clouds piled up to the very
heavens. They appeared like the ghosts
of mountains, dreamy and mist-like,
rather than those eternal barriers of snow-
capped granite which they really are.

Winding for several days along the
devious path, amid the wilderness of
rocky peaks and cliffs, we began to
emerge from the labyrinth, and the west-
ern slope of the Andes soon opened be-

fore us. Creeping over a succession of
ridges, we finally reached the undulating
plain, and from an eminence, we caught a
distant view of the Pacific. Proceeding
through a country of great fertility we
arrived at the place of our destination,
thankful indeed that I had reached it in
safety.

CHAPTER XII.

I FOUND the city of Valparaiso to be
much smaller than its commercial impor-
tance had led me to suppose. It is the
chief port on the western coast of Amer-
ica. From this point, the principal com-
merce is carried on with the Islands of
the Pacific and the coast of Asia. In-
deed, Valparaiso is the centre of trade in
this quarter of the world. Still, at the
time I was there, more than twenty years
ago, its population did not exceed 15,000.
In 1822, it suffered from a dreadful earth-
quake, but it has now increased, and
since the independence of Chili, it has
become even more important than in for-
mer times. It is built along a bending
beach, at the foot of a high bluff, which
overlooks the town. The buildings are
ornamented with piazzas, painted with
different colors, giving the place a very
lively appearance. The present number
of inhabitants is about 25,000.

It may well be believed that the busi-
ness which brought me to this place, en-
grossed my thoughts, and that immedi-
ately after my arrival, I began to devote
my attention to it. I delivered the letters
of introduction I had brought, and pur-
sued my enquiries in relation to my
uncle, in the channels which had been
pointed out. To my great mortification,

DICK BOLDHERO.

I soon found that he was not in Valpa-
raiso.

The only clue I could obtain which
seemed to offer the least chance of his
discovery, was that a man bearing the
Spanish name of Signor Morales, had
come to this city some fifteen years
before. He engaged in commerce, and
being a man of enterprise, was very suc-
cessful, and speedily amassed a large
estate. S uddenly , and without any known
cause, he became poor, closed his busi-
ness and lived a life of seclusion. At
last, he disappeared and no one seemed
to know with certainty whither he had
gone.

I found various rumors respecting him.
One person said he had gone to the Is-
land of Juan Fernandes, and now lived
there alone as Alexander Selkirk had
done before him. I was told by. another
that he had become a friar, and lived
as a hermit near the foot of one of the
snow-capped mountains of the Andes.
Another story was, that the mysterious
merchant had gone to Potosi, where he
had purchased a silver mine and become
immensely rich.

Amid these various rumors, one thing
only seemed to be clear, and this was,
that the individual to whom they related
was in fact my uncle. The description
of his person, manners, and appearance
was exact. Everything else however
was uncertain. It seemed probable, in-
deed, that he had himself set afloat the
contradictory rumors as to his residence,
with a view of concealing his real pur-
pose.

I remained several months at Valpa-
raiso, following out every suggestion that
seemed to offer a clue to the object of my

search. At last there seemed some rea-
son to suppose that the story of my un-
cle's being at Potosi, was not altogether
without foundation. Faint, indeed, was
the hope thus offered, but in the absence
of every other, I determined to visit that
celebrated place. My guide across the
Pampas had continued with me and
again setting out on horseback, we laid
our course for southern Peru, a country
which is now known by the title of Bo-
livia.

The road led to the north, and lay at a
distance of sixty or seventy miles from
the ocean. For the most part we trav-
elled over a wavy table-land, nearly a
thousand feet above the level of the sea.
On our right, lay the mighty range of the
Andes ; on our left, the almost boundless
Pacific. The country was thinly settled,
there being here and there a small vil-
lage ; or, more frequently, the villa of
some Spanish planter. The country
was exceedingly fertile, and the cattle
seemed as abundant as upon the prairies
of Buenos Ayres. As we rode along,
the grass, now in its fullest bloom, fre-
quently concealed the pasturing herds
from view, and often as we rode along,
the coarse herbage seemed to form a
wall on either side of the path, rising
even as high as my head. Never have
I seen a more lovely climate, or a more
fruitful soil.

Though we met with few adventures,
our journey was delightful. In ten days
we approached the celebrated desert of
Atacama, which stretches four hundred
and fifty miles along the Pacific, and
forms the maritime district of the
present republic of Bolivia. Upon this
spot, as if it were deserted of Heaven,

DICK BOLDHERO.

169

the rain never falls, and it is accordingly
given up to everlasting blight and deso-
lation. It is a sandy waste, and is not
only destitute of vegetation, but it is said
that no animal, not even a spider, a
cricket, or a worm, is found throughout
its vast extent.

Our road, for two days, lay along the
verge of this waste. It seemed marked
with a peculiar aspect of solitude and
desertion. No word can express the
emotions which it suggested, but that of
death. Neither life, nor motion, nor ver-
dure were visible throughout its measure-
less bosom. No sound seemed to stir
the atmosphere, in that region of silence.
I paused as we rode over its surface ; and
such was the absolute void of nature
such the settled silence of the very atmos-
phere that I felt oppressed, and moved
forward to throw off a feeling that my
heart would c^se to beat in the midst
of this pulseless creation.

Taking. leave of the desert, our course
turned more to the eastward, and we
began to enter a more mountainous ter-
ritory. One evening, as the sun went
down, we saw before us a lofty peak,
covered with snow. From its top, issued
a perpendicular column of dark smoke,
which, at the elevation of a few hundred
feet, expanded into a thin cloud. Its
shape was that of a pine tree, divested
of branches, except at the top.

We knew this mountain to be a vol-
cano, and we gazed upon it with intense
interest. We soon arrived at a small
village, and took up our lodgings for the
night. Being greatly fatigued, I retired
early to bed, and was speedily wrapped
in profound repose. I was at length
awaked by a violent shaking, and the

most terrific sounds I ever heard. I
sprang out of bed, and rushed to the
window. The whole heavens seemed to
be on fire, and as I caught a view of the
volcanic peak, I perceived that it was
vomiting forth torrents of lava, smoke
and flame. The inhabitants of the vil-
lage were already in the street, and
seemed to be frantic with alarm, if not
despair. I hurried on my clothes, and
descended also to the street.

The volcano was in full blast, rum-
bling to- its foundation, and keeping up at
its mouth a roaring sound, like the con-
tinued discharge of artillery. Amid the
columns of black smoke that rose to the
sky, hundreds of rocks, red with heat,
seemed shot upward, like blazing rockets,
while the molten lava a river of fire
was seen pouring over the edge of the
crater, and making its way toward the
village. But this was not the greatest
danger. The thick masses of snow and
ice, around the peak of the crater, were
melted, and roaring torrents were already
bursting down the declivity.

The confused sound of the raging
waters was audible, even amid the thun-
der that shook the fabric of the moun-
tains. The valley was situated in a
gorge, through which the river must pour
its flood. Conscious of the peril, the
people were preparing for flight. But
the danger was even more near at hand
than was anticipated. While I stood
gazing at the sublime pinnacle of the
volcano, I heard a rush at a little distance,
and suddenly I perceived the tumbling
waters gushing between the houses and
filling the narrow street. Most of the
people had already fled, and I followed
in their train. Sarcely had we reached

170

DICK BOLDHERO.

a rocky eminence on the side of an adja-
cent ridge, when the whole village was
engulphed, and speedily swept away.

So sudden had been the alarm, so
rapid our retreat, that I had not saved a
single article, except the clothes upon my
back. My own horse, as well as that of
my guide, with every particle of bag-
gage, money, papers, letters every ves-
tige was swallowed up by the inunda-
tion ; I was even uncertain of the fate of
my guide, till at last I discovered him,
half wild with terror, amid the throng
that had now gathered upon the cliff.

During the remainder of the night the
volcano remained in violent agitation,
and the swollen torrent of water con-
tinued to flow down its side and sweep
over the buried village. One by one,
the people departed to seek shelter at a
small town about two miles distant, and
when morning came, finding no hope of
recovering my horse or baggage, I fol-
lowed the rest, and took up my lodgings
at the post-house.

CHAPTER XIV.

MY situation was now in the highest
degree embarrassing and painful. I was
at least three hundred miles from Potosi,
and excepting a small piece of gold, and
a few dollars in silver, which I happened
to have in my pocket, in all amounting
to about seven dollars, I was absolutely
destitute of money. I was in the midst
of strangers, and had no means of ob-
taining credit, by which I might repair
my losses. I spent two or three days in
walking up and down the river, which
had swept away our horses and baggage ;
but the torrent continued to increase, rath-
er than subside, and had now the aspect

of a permanent river. Not the slightest
hope was therefore presented of retriev-
ing our fortunes. No other alternative
was offered but to make our way to
Potosi on foot.

No sooner was my resolution taken
than I departed, still accompanied by
Balbo, my Indian guide. When I was
once again in action, my spirits rose, and
with a cheerful heart I pursued my way
over the rugged country that lay before
me. For several days, the tall pyramidal
top of the smoking volcano was in view,
and indeed, as we proceeded, it seemed
to lift its head above the surrounding
mountains as if to watch us, or to keep
us company. It was not till we had
travelled a distance of more than forty
miles, that it began to dwindle in the dis-
tance, and sink down amid the moun-
tain peaks that encircled it.

It was a beautiful season, and on every
side, there were objects to attract my
attention. The strange but gorgeous
flowers that were scattered in profusion
on every hand ; the gaudy birds ; the
contrast between the mountain scenery
on one side, and the waving plain, marked
with cultivation, on the other, afforded
constant topics for observation and reflec-
tion! No very remarkable incidents oc-
curred, yet there were passages in our'
journey which were by no means devoid
of interest. We met with no towns, and
few villages.

The Indians constituted the chief in-
habitants upon the route. These were
marked with a peculiar character of
gentleness, and their hospitality was un-
bounded. They allowed us freely to
share in whatever food they possessed,
and would seldom accept of payment.

DICK BOLDHERO.

171

Their houses were of the simplest mate-
rials, consisting of poles set upright in
the ground, the sides and roof being
firmly thatched with palm leaves. Their
furniture was rude and scanty. They
seemed to sail down the stream of life,
resigning themselves with easy indolence
to its current. They had most of them
some cattle, and milk furnished a lead-
ing article of their food.

In one instance, we met with an excit-
ing adventure. As we were crossing
a broken range of mountains, we per-
ceived a small animal, resembling a deer,
pursued by a bird of enormous size. My
guide immediately informed me that the
quadruped was a vicuna, and that the
pursuer was a species of vulture, which
is familiar to most readers under the name
of condor. When we first saw them,
the vicuna was straining every nerve to
escape, while the condor hung over his
back, and at every opportunity struck his
talons into his flesh.

They both swept by us, so close that
we could distinctly see every feature of
the pursuer and pursued. The little
quadruped was foaming at the mouth ;
his eye was wild and glaring, and his
sides streaming with blood. The vulture,
with his merciless gaze fixed upon his
prey, held his talons ready for the blow,
while he seemed to glance through the
air on his outspread wings, like an arrow
from the bow. On they went, till at last
the vicuna came to a precipice of nearly
two hundred feet in depth. Pressed by
his remorseless enemy, he hesitated not
for a moment, but taking the fatal leap,
fell crushed and lifeless into the depths
of the rocky gorge beneath. The condor
wheeled round and round, and finally

stooped with an easy motion to partake
of his feast.

I had some curiosity to see the mon-
ster at his meal. After winding round
for a considerable distance, we reached
the bottom of the ravine. We approached
the savage bird, and perceived that he had
already commenced his feast; he had
torn open the bowels of the vicuna, and
seemed to cut and rend the flesh with his
enormous beak as easily as if it had been
a butcher's knife. As we drew near,
he glared upon us fiercely, and seemed
to deliberate for a moment whether he
should not repel the unwelcome intrusion.
Finding us not disposed to retreat, he
seized his prey in his claws, and beating
his wings with a furious impulse rose
heavily upon the air. Bending his course
slightly downward along the distant slope
of the mountains, he continued for, some
time in view, and at last disappeared
amid the mazes of the forest.

Pursuing our way with diligence, we
now began to ascend the mountains which
encircled the valley of Potosi. Winding
our way through deep vales, and often
climbing along the dizzy edges of beet-
ling cliffs, we reached the top of the
mountain range and looked down upon
the scene below. The wild and rugged
ramparts which encircle this famous
city, bear a desolate and wintry aspect.
Scarcely a tree crowns their summits, and
nothing but mosses and lichens seem to
flourish in the chill and ungenial climate.
Yet below, we could perceive bright
patches of vegetation, seeming to indi-
cate a milder temperature.

Beginning now to descend, we proceed-
ed with caution, and were soon lodged
in the celebrated city of Potosi.

172

DICK BOLDHERO.

City of Potosi.

CHAPTER XV.

BEFORE I proceed with my narrative, I
must give some little account of the cel-
ebrated town in which I now found
myself. Potosi is situated within a circle
of mountains, and stands at the foot of a
lofty peak which rises far above the rest.
In this are the rich mines of silver which
have given such fame to the place.

The number of inhabitants in Potosi
was once 100,000, but it has greatly
diminished, and the present number does
not exceed 15,000 ; half of these are
Indians. The towns of South America
are not famous for their .neatness; in
this respect, however, Potosi has the
advantage over most other cities in this
quarter of the world. It is the custom
to whitewash the houses on the outside,
which gives them a very cheerful aspect.

Potosi is very remarkable in several

respects. In the morning the air is
keen and cold, but in the middle of the
day it is burning hot. At night, the
cold returns, and it seems almost as
chill as during our New England March.
Potosi is situated at an elevation of
13,265 feet above the level of the sea,
and is the highest inhabited place on the
face of the globe.

After my arrival here, my first busi-
ness was to despatch letters to my
friends at Valparaiso for a supply of
money, and letters of introduction. I
then sallied forth to take a view of the
town. On my return I stated the man-
ner in which I had lost my baggage to
the landlord of the hotel, and having
informed him that I had come on impor-
tant business, requested him to supply
me with such articles as 1 needed till I
could obtain remittances. The man
looked in my face with a gaze of amaze-

DICK BOLDHERO.

173

ment, and then laughed outright at what
he deemed my brazen impudence.

I was, in fact, miserably clad, and my
servant was worse off than myself. We
looked, indeed, like a couple of vaga-
bonds, and though I was at first angry,
I did not think the conduct of the land-
lord unreasonable when I reflected upon
the whole matter. But what was to be
done ? I was out of money and totally
unknown to everybody in the place. It
was necessary to do something for im-
mediate support, and I therefore deter-
mined that my guide, Balbo, should go
to work in the mines if I could get him
a place, hoping that he would obtain the
means of subsistence for us both.

Everybody has heard how the silver
mines of Potosi were discovered. An
Indian hunter was pursuing a vicuna up
the slope of the mountain. In order to
aid his ascent, he seized upon a small
tree. This gave way, and beneath its
roots, he saw a shining mass of silver.
This occurred three hundred years ago,
and since that time, more than a thousand
millions of dollars have been taken from
the mines in the mountain where this
accidental discovery was made.

I had heard the story of the Indian
hunter, and fancied that silver in Potosi
was almost as abundant as common
earth. When I reached the mines, how-
ever, I found the fact to be otherwise.
The openings to these mines are small
holes, which are entered by getting down
upon the hands and knees. In this
manner, you crawl along for a number
of yards, when the space widens, and you
are able to stand upright. There are a
great many of these shafts, and some of
them penetrate to a considerable distance

into the bowels of the mountain. The
silver ore is found in veins, and in fol-
lowing these, the miners have wrought
out irregular winding caverns, sometimes
ascending, and again descending. They
work by blasting the rock with gunpow-
der. The ore, thus broken off, is carried
out in the leather aprons of the work-
men.

Most persons have no other than
pleasant ideas in regard to silver; but if
they could see the miserable Indians
toiling in the mines, shut out from the
light of day, grimed with soot and gun-
powder, and haggard from the want of
pure air, and all to obtain this precious
metal, they would ever after feel that
even this is purchased at almost too dear
a rate.

I was not a little shocked and dis-
gusted to observe the severe and painful
toil required at the mines. After the ore
is obtained, it is broken into pieces about
the size of a hen's egg. It is then put
into a mill, and reduced to powder. In
this state, it is mixed with salt and quick-
silver, and remains fifteen days. By
this time the silver has become mixed
with the quicksilver. The earthy parti-
cles are then washed away, and the
silver is separated from the quicksilver
by squeezing. Such is the laborious
process of mining ; yet, notwithstanding
the severe nature of the occupation, I
found the wages to be but fifteen cents a
day. The urgency of the case conquered;'
my feelings, and I agreed that Balbo
should go to work the next day.

This he accordingly did, and I found
that, by the utmost economy, we could
both of us subsist upon his earnings. I
was now at leisure to pursue my inqui-

174

DICK BOLDHERO.

ries in relation to the object of my jour-
ney. It is unnecessary to detail the
careful investigation that I made, or to
say with what anxiety I pursued my
search. I may sum up the whole in
stating that my uncle was not in Potosi,
arid that if he had ever been there, he
had removed to some other part of the
country at least three years before.

At the end of two months, I expected
an answer from Valparaiso, but none was
received; and after two months more I
was forced to adopt the conclusion that
my letters had miscarried, or my cor-
respondents had refused to comply with
my request. My situation was again in
the highest degree embarrassing. After

revolving a great many schemes in my
mind, I determined to join a company
of merchants who were going at that
time to Quito. I offered myself as a
mule-driver, and Balbo as a servant.
Both were accepted, and we speedily
set forward. I have not space to de-
tail the incidents of this journey of
more than 1500 miles in length. My
story has, perhaps, already extended
beyond the patience of the reader. It
will be enough to say, that, after travel-
ling over mountains and plains, and
beholding some of the most sublime
scenery in the world, we reached the
capital of Equador.

Chimborazo.

CHAPTER XVI.

THERE are few places in the world
more remarkable than Quito. It lies
nearly under the equator, yet, being more

than 9,000 feet above the level of the
sea, it has a climate like that of our
June during the whole year. The face
of nature seems to be covered with per-
petual bloom. While some of the peo-

DICK BOLDHERO.

175

pie are sowing their wheat, others are
harvesting theirs.

The city of Quito is itself built upon
the skirt of the volcanic mountain of
Pichinca. It is a fine city, with many
elegant buildings, though the streets are
irregular, and arches are frequently ne-
cessary in order to cross the yawning
chasms created by the eruptions of the
mountain.

In a southerly direction, at the dis-
tance of about a hundred miles, is the
celebrated peak of Chimborazo. It is
21,440 feet in height, and is capped with
everlasting snow. In a clear day, I
could see this sublime mountain, seem-
ing like a thin blue cloud, and appear-
ing almost to blend with the distant sky.
I had now given up every hope of meet-
ing with my uncle, and thought only of
finding my way back to Guiana. An
opportunity was soon offered for setting
out for my return. Three Spanish trav-
ellers were about to proceed to Assump-
cion on the Pilcomayo, and then descend
the Amazon to its mouth. Balbo and
myself were engaged as servants, and
we speedily set forward.

We crossed the mountains on mules,
sometimes employing llamas for carrying
our baggage. These animals are about
twice the size of the sheep, and have a
gentleness of character that seems to
win kindness from every one. They
have indeed one habit which seems
incompatible with their general course of
non-resistance ; for if you offend them,
they will spit in your face. Yet they
cannot endure chastisement. They will
perform the utmost labor of which they
are capable ; but if you strike them in

order to urge them beyond this, they
will lie down and die.

In a fortnight we reached the small
town of Assumpcion. We here em-
barked upon the Amazon in a boat,
being liberally provided with everything
needful for our voyage.

After a diversity of incidents, we
reached the town of Barra, just below
the point where the Rio Negro enters
the Amazon. We here parted with our
bateau and joining some other travellers,
hired a larger craft and proceeded on
our way. The weather was exceed-
ingly hot, and several of our company
were taken sick, and the Spaniard in
whose service I was engaged, died of
fever. Proceeding to the shore, which
at this point was occupied with impene-
trable forests, we made a grave in the
earth, and left the body to its solitary
repose.

Among the strangers who had joined
us at Barra was a gentleman who
appeared marked with care and bowed
with years. He was now among the
sick, and I was engaged as his attend-
ant. He had caught the fever common
to this climate, and it seemed rapidly
advancing to its crisis. We had no
physician on board, but the stranger
seemed competent to give directions, and
these I scrupulously followed. At last
we came to a small settlement on the
banks of the river, and he concluded to
be set on shore, in order to obtain medi-
cal aid, and have the comforts necessary
to his condition. I went with him to his
lodgings, and saw him placed in his new
quarters.

I had felt an interest in him from the

176

DICK BOLDHERO.

beginning, and I now offered to continue
"with him, at the same time expressing
:my desire to return to Paramaribo. The
name seemed to excite his curiosity, and
he looked me steadily in the face for a
moment. " Are you going to Parama-
ribo ? " said he. I replied in the affirma-
tive. "I was going thither myself,"
said he, " but I may never reach that
place. Take this, young man, and on
your arrival, deliver it according to its
address." He then handed me a parcel,
and as I took it, I saw upon it the name
of M. Scager.

At this moment an agitating thought
took possession of my mind. "Who -
what is this stranger ? May it not after
all be the individual whom I have sought
so long ? " Struck with this suggestion,
I gazed at the sick man with such inten-
sity as to attract his attention. " What
is the matter, young man ? " said he.
" Oh, tell me, sir, tell me your name.
For heaven's sake tell me your name,"
said I. The stranger rose from his pil-
low, and with a startled aspect demanded,
" Why this curiosity ? what mean these
questions?"

" Pray sir," said I, " are you not my
uncle?" The sick man leaned back
upon his pillow, and with a broad smile
upon his countenance as if I had said
something exceedingly ludicrous, replied,
" I think not; but what is your name?"
" Richard Boldhero," said I. The stran-
ger once more rose from his pillow, say-
ing, " Indeed, indeed, Richard Bold-
hero ? " " Yes, yes," said I, " and you
are my father's brother I know you
now you are indeed my uncle."

I need not describe the remainder of
the scene. The object of my long search

was found. For seven weeks I watched
by his bedside, during which period he
seemed hovering betwixt life and death.
By slow degrees he recovered, and in
due time we took passage down the
river, and at last reached its mouth. I
had now traversed nearly the whole
length of this giant stream a distance
of about 3,500 miles.

At Mazago m we took passage in a brig
for Paramaribo, and in two weeks we
reached that place. During our voyage,
my uncle gave me an account of his life
after his departure from thence. He
had settled for a time at Valparaiso, and
had acquired a considerable amount of
property. This he converted into cash,
and remitted it to Mr. Hartley, for the
purpose of discharging his debts, as we
have already related. Since that period,
he had led an unsettled life, being
engaged at different times in various
enterprises. Finding himself advancing
into the vale of years, a desire to return to
the scenes of his youth took possession of
his mind, and when I met him, he was on
his way to fulfil this wish. He had not
heard of the turn of fortune in his favor,
but considered his name as still dis-
graced in Paramaribo. It may be read-
ily believed that the information I gave
him brought back the sunshine which
had long departed from his bosom.

I must pass over my own meeting
with Mirabel as well as that of her
father. The imagination of the reader
will doubtless do better justice to the
scene than any words I can supply. I had
been absent a year and eleven months,
and during that period had often suf-
fered the deepest anxiety for my mother
and sister. I now found letters from

THE SQUIRREL AND RATTLESNAKE.

177

well, and enjoying as much happiness as
their humble condition would permit.
In a few weeks I set out to return to
Connecticut, my uncle having promised
soon to follow me, and bring Mirabel
with him.

I reached home in due season, and
four months after, his promise was ful-
filled. He settled at Middletown, hav-
ing recovered a sum of money sufficient
to make him wealthy from the insur-
ance company that had inflicted upon
him such gross injustice and so many
sorrows. On hearing the conduct of
Dexter to my father, he caused a suit to
be instituted against him, in the course of
which, it was proved that he had been
guilty of embezzling property belonging
to the concern. He was obliged to pay
a large sum to my mother, and his own
reputation which he had built up with
such hypocritical care, was blasted for-
ever.

In the course of my life, viewing the
hard fortune of my father and my uncle,
I had sometimes distrusted the justice of
Providence ; but I now saw that the per-
secutors of both had been made to suffer
the severest retribution. With this re-
flection I must close my story, only
adding that Mirabel no longer calls me
cousin, but many years ago exchanged
that pleasant title for one of a still dearer
character.

te LET us remove temptation from the
path of youth," as the frog said when he
plunged in a pond, at seeing a boy pick
up a stone.

HE who swims in sin will sink in sorrow.
VOL. vm. 12

The Squirrel and Rattlesnake,

H ATTLESNAKES hunt and secure for their
I prey, with ease, grey squirrels that
IB abound in our woods ; therefore, they
W must be possessed of swiftness to
obtain them. Having enjoyed the pleas-
ure of beholding such a chase in full
view, in the year 1821, 1 shall detail its
circumstances :

Whilst lying on the ground, to watch
the habits of a bird which was new to
me, previous to shooting it, I heard a
smart rustling not far from me, and turn-
ing my head that way, saw, at the same
moment, a grey squirrel, full grown,
issuing from the thicket, and bouncing
off in a straight direction, in leaps of sev-
eral feet at a time ; and, not more than
twenty feet behind, a rattlesnake of ordi-
nary size, pursuing, drawn out, appar-
ently, to its full length, and sliding over
the ground so rapidly, that, as they both
moved away from me, I was at no loss
to observe the snake gain upon the squir-
rel.

The squirrel made for a tree, and as-
cended its topmost branches as nimbly as
squirrels are known to do. The snake
performed the same task considerably
more slowly, yet so fast, that the squir-
rel never raised his tail nor barked, but
eyed the enemy attentively as he mounted
and approached. When within a few
yards, the squirrel leaped to another
branch, and the snake followed by stretch-
ing out two thirds of his body, whilst the
remainder held it securely from falling.
Passing thus from branch to branch, with
a rapidity that astonished me, the squir-
rel went in and out of several holes, but
remained in none, knowing well, that

178

THE SQUIRREL AND RATTLESNAKE.

wherever his head could enter, the hody
of his antagonist would follow ; and, at
last, much exhausted and terrified, took a
desperate leap, and came to the earth
with legs and tail spread to their utmost,
to ease the fall. That instant the snake
dropped also, and was within a few yards
of the squirrel before it began making
off.

The chase on land again took place,
and ere the squirrel could reach another
tree, the snake had seized it by the back,
near the occiput, and soon rolled itself
about it in such a way, that although I
heard the cries of the victim, I scarcely
saw any portion of its body. So full of
its ultimate object was the snake, that it
paid no attention to me, and I approached
it to see in what manner it would dispose
of its prey. A few minutes elapsed,
when I saw the reptile loosening gradu-
ally and opening its folded coils, until the
squirrel was entirely disengaged, having
been killed by suffocation. The snake
then raised its body from the ground,
and passed its head over the dead ani-
mal in various ways, to assure itself that
life had departed; it then took the end
of the squirrel's tail, swallowed it gradu-
ally ; bringing first one and then the
other of the hind legs parallel with it,
and sucked with difficulty, and for some
time, at them and the rump of the ani-
mal, until its jaws became so expanded,
that, after this, it swallowed the whole
remaining parts with apparent ease.

This mass of food was removed sev-
eral inches from the head in the stom-
ach of the snake, and gave it the appear-
ance of a rouleau of money in a purse
with both ends towards its centre; for,
immediately after the operation of swal-

lowing was completed, the jaws and neck
resumed their former appearance. The
snake then attempted to move off, but
this was next to impossible ; when, hav-
ing cut a twig, I went up to it, and tapped
it on the head, which it raised, as well
as its tail, and began for the first time to
rattle. I was satisfied that, for some
lapse of time