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 LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 University of California. 
 
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WOODWOETH'S 
 
 YOUTH'S CABINET, 
 
 FEANCIS C. WOODWORTH, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " UNCLE FRAXK's HOME STORIES," " STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS,' 
 '•THEODORE THINKEr's TALES," ETC. ETC. 
 
 Amuseraent our joaeans — instruction our ena. 
 
 VOL. ly. 
 
 NEW YOEK: 
 
 D. AUSTIN WOOD WORTH, 
 
 PUBLISHER. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by 
 
 D. AUSTIN WOODWORTH, 
 
 In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the United States for the 
 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
 STERSOajtTPBD BY PRINTED BY 
 
 THOMAS B. SMITH, J. D. TORRET 
 
 216 William St. N. Y. 12 Spruce Street. 
 
POMPEII AS IT IS. 
 
 lJUill you take an imaginai-y trip with me, reader, 
 to the doomed city of Pompeii, and see it as it 
 is now ? Taking it for granted that you say 
 " yes," I will ask one of the numerous guides that 
 swarm around each of the gates, to show us the way 
 into the city. Let us enter the " Gate of the Soldiers." 
 Here, just inside the wall, are the soldiers' barracks. 
 We scarcely need the information which our guide is so anxious to 
 convey. We see at a glance for what those buildings were appro- 
 priated. You can scarcely divest yourself of the conviction that 
 you are dreaming, as you walk hurriedly along. How many times 
 I asked nivself the question, while wandering amid these ruins, 
 " Can this all be real ?" The roofs of the houses were all cru^ed 
 under the weight that fell upon them. The walls, however, are 
 standing, to a great extent. Many of the dw^ellings of the more 
 wealthy of the inhabitants, abounded in fresco and other paintings. 
 The interior walls were covered with them, in some instances. The 
 finest frescoes in the world, almost, came from Herculanseum and 
 Pompeii, and may be seen in the Museum at Naples. 
 
 The walls of the humbler dwellings were generally painted a pecu- 
 liar bright brown, which modern painters cannot imitate. It is sur- 
 prising that these paintings should retain their color so well. When 
 they were exhumed, they were as fresh and life-like, apparently, as 
 they could have been the day they were buried. A good many of the 
 paintings have been removed from these walls, and are now in the 
 Museum. All the finest of them are there. Still many, wdiich were 
 
 VOL. IV. 1* JY 
 
10 POMPEII AS IT IS. 
 
 damaged by the falling of the roofs, or perhaps in the process of 
 excavation, still remain in their mutilated state. Enough remain 
 to demonstrate to us the great perfection of art at the period of the 
 overthrow of the city, as well as the corrupt state of morals that 
 must then have reigned among its inhabitants. They tell us of 
 a room in the Neapolitan Museum, filled with paintings and mo- 
 saics from the buried cities, so grossly impure, that they cannot 
 with propriety be exhibited. I can easily believe it ; for the mind 
 is sufficiently shocked at the j^ictures still remaining upon the walls 
 in Pompeii. Were the cities under the shadow of Vesuvius over- 
 whelmed in consequence of their wickedness ? In the absence of a 
 revelation from heaven, touching that question, of course it cannot 
 be definitely answered. But few, I am sure, who visit those cities, 
 can suppress the thought that they, no less than the cities of the 
 plain of the Jordan, may have suffered thus, because their cup of 
 crime was full. 
 
 "We have arrived at the comic theatre. On these stone seats, 
 which have so long and so successfully resisted the earthquakes 
 that have shattered other buildings in Southern Italy to their foun- 
 dations, sat the pleasure-loving Pompeiians. The actors used to 
 stand in the arena below. See, the tall grass grows, and beautiful 
 flowers bloom, on these very seats. There is an inscription, in brass 
 letters, in the arena. It is as legible as if it were placed there to- 
 day. Let us read it. It tells us under what auspices this place of 
 amusement was established. 
 
 But here is another theatre, a much larger one, capable of seat- 
 ing some five thousand persons. We enter it. It is not necessary 
 for the guide to tell us to what especial uses this edifice was appro- 
 priated. We see, from the mode in which it was constructed, that 
 on that large arena yonder, the gladiators contended with each 
 other, single-handed, for the amusement of the spectators — con- 
 tended until one or the other fell, perhaps to be ingloriously drag- 
 ged from the arena, by the attendants, as they dragged away the 
 bodies of the wild beasts which fought there on other occasions. 
 Let us descend into this arena. A vast edifice was this amphi- 
 theatre. Can you tell what those dark chambers were occupied 
 for ? I shudder when I reflect that in them were confined the 
 
POMPEII AS IT IS. 11 
 
 wild beasts, half-starved, to render tliein fierce, and to fit tliem to 
 act their savage part in the theatre, for the entertainment of the 
 citizens. To act their savage part ! What that part was, I need 
 not remind you. You know too well already. The soul sickens 
 at the thought of it. 
 
 Xot amono- the least notable thino-s connected with this exhumed 
 city, is a placard which they showed us, posted upon the walls of 
 one of the public baths. It is in these words : " At the dedica- 
 tion of the baths, C. A. X. Mains will give wild-beast fightings and 
 gladiators. There will be sprinkling of perfumes, and an awning. 
 Prosperity to Mains, first man in Pompeii !" 
 
 I ascend the steps of this theatre again. I stand on the upper- 
 most. Here I can distinctly see Vesuvius. There stands the old 
 monster, who was the agent of all this mischief, quietly puffing out 
 interminable clouds of smoke. Here, too, we see over a great por- 
 tion of Pompeii, and away beyond, to Herculanreum ; and oh, how 
 beautiful appears the blue Mediterranean, with its unrivaled group 
 of islands ; and how like a thing of enchantment appears the city 
 of Naples, stretching from the water's edge to the summit of a lofty 
 hill 1 
 
 It seems almost like sacrilege, to enter these dwellings, and to 
 go through the difterent apartments. One can hardly avoid giving 
 way to the delusion, that the people have left their houses only for 
 a brief period, and that they will return again and occupy them, 
 perhaps even while we are lingering here. Mosaics, generally of 
 marble, with difterent colors interspersed, form the floors of most 
 of the more elegant mansions. These floors are all covered now 
 with dust, ashes, sand, and bits of broken plaster, so that we cannot 
 examine the mosaics. Why is this allowed ? To aftbrd to scores 
 of rafrged boys, who hover around these places, an opportunity to 
 get a grano or two by exhibiting the mosaics. If you notice, you 
 will see that the cunning rogues cover the floor all over again as 
 soon as you turn to go away, so as to be ready for the next cus- 
 tomer. Bravo ! 
 
 What is that inscription in mosaic yonder, in the court of one 
 of these elegant houses ? Cave Ccuiem ! This Latin inscription 
 is quite common in front of houses of the better class. The mean- 
 
12 POMPEII AS IT IS. 
 
 ing of it is — my learned reader will excuse my rendering it into 
 English — " Beware of the dog !" Another inscription, too, we fre- 
 quently meet with, just as we enter the dwelling. It is the single 
 word, Ave, and means, " Welcome." I notice that in some cases 
 it is spelled with an initial — Have. What ! had those old Romans 
 learned to use the aspirate in such cases ? I thought that kind o'lasjn- 
 ration was a much more modern invention. So it seems that our 
 good friend Johnny Bull must not set up any claims in that direction. 
 
 Not to confine myself too slavishly to antiquities, I saw numer- 
 ous specimens of a plant within the walls of Pompeii, which inter- 
 ested me exceedingly. 1 saw growing here the century plant, 
 which, in our northern States, we cultivate in our green-houses, 
 and which, it is said (fabulously, as I believe) does not flower until 
 it is a hundred years old. In Pompeii, you may see the century 
 plant fifteen or twenty feet high, in full flower, and a most splen- 
 did plant it is, when it is covered with fine, large blossoms. Ac- 
 cording to the testimony of the guide, it requires only a few years 
 here for the century plant to produce flowers. 
 
 Now we come to the temple of Isis. Here was the altar of sac- 
 rifice ; and here, in this little chamber — I must crawl into it, just 
 for the name of the thing, I suppose — was the spot where the 
 oracles were uttered. May I carry away a little relic from this 
 place ? The guide says it is not allowed, i^Cest impossible !) but 
 he kindly turns his back to me, as he says so, and looks anxiously 
 in another direction, till I help myself. He is a very accommo- 
 dating fellow, this guide ; but candor compels me to say, that 
 when you come to a settlement with him for his services, he ex- 
 pects you will remember all the little extras. 
 
 The school-house interested me not a little. The schoolmaster 
 sat on a raised platform. How much the stone steps are worn 
 that lead to a little stage on which the pupils recited their lessons, 
 and listened to the teachings of the master. 
 
 There are fountains in almost all the streets. The curbs of the 
 cisterns were frequently of marble. These remain undisturbed, as 
 perfect as on the day they were buried. You can see the deep 
 grooves in the inside of the curb, which were made by the friction 
 of the cord used in drawing the water. 
 
I t 
 
 ^.^'^p 
 
 ^^- 
 
 
 
 
 THE CENTURY PLAXT. 
 
POMPEII AS IT IS. 15 
 
 The streets are not so wide as I had supposed. In most of them 
 there is only room for one vehicle to pass at a time. In the Mu- 
 seum at Naples, you can see a circular piece of brass, which is a 
 specimen of many others suspended at the corners of streets in 
 Pompeii, and which was struck with a hammer by a driver in 
 entering a given street, to give notice that a carriage was entering 
 at that end, so that no one would at the same time enter at the 
 other end of the street. The ruts made by the carriage wheels 
 are in many places five or six inches deep. The material with 
 which the city w^as paved is not the hardest, it being very gener- 
 ally blocks of lava from Vesuvius. 
 
 We now approach the court of justice ; and here, close by, is 
 the prison. Through this passage the sentence of the judge was 
 communicated to the prisoner, while in his gloomy and cheerless 
 cell. 
 
 A little farther on is the temple of Venus. They show us the 
 place where the victim for the sacrifice was killed, and the pedestal 
 on which stood the bronze statue of the shameless goddess. The 
 Pantheon is not far from this temple. Here you see pedestals for 
 twelve great gods. The paintings which remain on the walls 
 forcibly suggest some of the language used by the apostle Paul 
 in the first chapter of his letter to the Christians in this vicinity. 
 
 We pass a bakery, with many of the articles used by the owner, 
 in his trade ; a soap factory ; the custom house ; the house of the 
 surgeon, where were found a large collection of surgical instruments, 
 which are now in the Museum at Naples ; the temple of the Ves- 
 tal Virgins ; public baths, and many other places of almost equal 
 note. 
 
 Then we emerge from the city by the Herculan^eum gate, and 
 visit the house of the lordly Diomede — the most splendid private 
 dwelling in Pompeii. Bulwer, you may recollect, honors this 
 same Diomede, by employing him to open the first chapter of 
 his " Last Days of Pompeii." You ask how we know who was 
 the occupant of this mansion ? His name was inscribed at the 
 entrance. The wine cellar occupies a very large space. Many of 
 the earthen casks in which the wine was kept, remain here in the 
 exact position they occupied when they were discovered. There is 
 
16 fkanklin's mistake. 
 
 a painful chapter connected with this wine cellar. Some tw^enty 
 dead bodies were found here, and among them one which, from the 
 profusion of costly ornaments on her person, is supposed to have 
 been that of the mistress of the house. How came it to pass that 
 so many persons found a grave here ? It is presumed that they 
 fled to the cellar, supposing themselves safe there, and intending to 
 remain till the storm of ashes should subside, wdien they meant to 
 escape from the city. Alas ! when they chose to leave their place 
 of retreat, it was too late ! 
 
 On the same street with the house of Diomede, are the tombs 
 of the wealthy Pompeii ans. Many of the monuments are very 
 elegant. One of the most remaikable is that of a gladiator. In 
 some of these tombs are still the urns in which were deposited the 
 ashes of the dead, and here and there may be seen other and smaller 
 urns, in which were preserved the tears of surviving friends. These 
 lachrymal iirns^ by the way, I saw in several old cemeteries in 
 Italy. 
 
 After visiting Pompeii, I proceeded directly to Herculanaium, 
 and spent the remainder of the day there. The principal object 
 of interest in the latter city, is the great amphitheatre, which we 
 visit in the same manner as we explore a coal mine. We go into 
 a huge grotto, Avith torches, and as we stand within those walls, 
 and survey this vast monument of the wealth and the luxury of 
 that doomed city, we hear the rumbling of the carriages in the 
 modern city of Resina, far above our heads. 
 
 DE. FRAIs^KLIN'S MISTAKE. 
 
 Franklin, when he was Ambassador to France, being at a meet- 
 ing of a literary society, and not w^ell understanding the French 
 when declaimed, determined to applaud when he saw a lady of his 
 acquaintance express satisfaction. When they had ceased, a little 
 child who understood the French, said to him, " But, grandpapa, 
 you always applauded the loudest when they were praising you !" 
 Franklin laughed heartily, and explained the matter. 
 
A EIDE ON A WHALE. 
 
 17 
 
 A EIDE ON A WHALE. 
 
 BY DR. J. H. HANAFORD. 
 
 Most of my young readei-s are aware of the fact, that in obtain- 
 ing the oil which they burn in the evening, while reading this 
 very book, hardy men are exposed to many dangers. Sometimes 
 they may be found among the towering icebergs of the Arctic 
 Ocean, exposed to the rude northern blasts, or in danger of being 
 crushed between those large fields of ice that are generally found 
 there, while they make war upon the huge leviathans of that deso- 
 late region. At other times, they sail along the coast at about 
 the same distance from the opposite pole, all the time exposed to 
 many hardships and dangers, liable at any moment to be destroyed 
 by those monsters of the deep, or to suffer shipwreck in those an- 
 gry waters. These, indeed, " see God's wonders in the deep," and 
 hear the murmuring of lashing billov*-s in the stoim. 
 
 But I have a story to tell you. Listen to it. Some fifty years 
 ago, the ship " Renown" was in the bay near Coquimbo, on the 
 coast of South America, durinor her return vovao-e from the Pacific. 
 
18 SPECIE AND SPECIES. 
 
 'While there, a large whale and her yoimg (a cow and calf, as they 
 are called by whalemen) were discovered, and of course were re- 
 garded as lawful prey. They gave chase, and came up w^ith the 
 cow, plunging a harpoon and two lances into her huge body. 
 Enraged by this harsh usage, she arose, coming up head foremost 
 out of the water, and fell upon the boat, which was shattered in 
 fragments. The men now found themselves struggling in the 
 water, exposed to an attack from their formidable enemy. They 
 clung to oars and pieces of the boat. All of them, except a lad, 
 were able to swim. This lad succeeded for a while in sustaining 
 himself, but soon became too much exhausted any longer to cling 
 to the wreck. Each of his companions was too busily engaged 
 in preserving his own life, to be able to render him assistance. At 
 the time when he was about sinking, the calf swam under him, 
 arose, and took him on her back. There he sat, astride his ocean 
 steed, with as much composure, apparently, as if taking a pleasure- 
 ride on some beautiful Arabian courser, while she swam around in 
 the bay, seeking, as it would seem, a proper place to deposit her 
 load, like the whale that took the charge of the disobedient Jo- 
 nah. In a short time, however, another boat came from the ship, 
 to pick up the struggling ones, the most unfortunate of whom, or 
 the one in the greatest danger, was the rider, who was first secured, 
 after which the calf sank below the surface, probably following the 
 mother, which had already made her escape into the broad ocean. 
 My readers may think this story rather " fishy," but they may 
 rest assured that it is true. One of the number, the harpooner, is 
 still living, and relates these incidents with as much interest as if 
 they had occurred but yesterday, although fifty years have since 
 rolled awav. 
 
 SPECIE AND SPECIES. 
 
 " I FEAR," said a country minister to his flock, " when I explained 
 to you, in my last charity sermon, that philanthropy was the love 
 of our species, you must have understood me to say specie, which 
 may account for the smallness of the collection." 
 
SOUTH AMERICAN BIRDS. 19" 
 
 SOUTH AMEEICAiN BIRDS. 
 
 TRANSLATED FEOM THE FRENCH, BY LAfRA LOVETL. 
 
 1^ ' V \ * 
 
 f:'g.j^ HE Soiilli Americans have put to profit the intel- 
 ligence of certain wild birds, and subjected them 
 
 ^^ ^ _ to a sort of domesticity, if I may use the word. 
 
 ^p^^ The chaia, or chavaria^ of Paraguay, attains the 
 
 ' 1^^ height of a small turkey. Its head, covered with down, 
 k as A\ ell as its neck, is ornamented with an elegant crown 
 of upright feathers ; its plumage is of a leaden gray ; 
 its long legs are provided with very strong claws, and the end of 
 its wings is armed with a thick, long, pointed horn, which renders 
 it formidable to other birds. Nevertheless its disposition is gentle, 
 even generous ; for it employs its strength and courage only in 
 the defence of the timid birds of the poultry-yard, which the In- 
 dians place under its guardianship. It promenades all day, with 
 much gravity, in the midst of the hens, ducks, and geese confided 
 to it ; and its piercing eye, almost always directed towards the 
 clouds, pei-mits it to discover a bird of prey at a very great dis- 
 tance. As soon as he perceives it, he utters a cry of alarm, and 
 prepares fiercely for the combat. Vainly does the vulture dart, 
 with the rapidity of lightning, on a goose or a chicken ; the chaia 
 is there, with his beak projecting and his plumage bristling. While 
 with one Aving he covers the victim, with the other he strikes the 
 assassin, and with his spur inflicts deep wounds in his throat and 
 breast. Like an athlete trained to combat, he knows how to take 
 his time to launch his pointed beak into his eyes, or to tear hiui 
 with his claws. He strikes with redoubled blows, overthrows the 
 enemy, subduing him rather by courage and address than by 
 force, and soon constrains him to take flio-ht in diso-race. Then he 
 draws himself up, and promenades proudly amid his aff'righted flock. 
 
20 SOUTH AMERICAN BIRDS. 
 
 But if the bird of prey attacks the flock while it is in the fields, 
 the geese, while the chaia is fighting, may be scattered by fear, 
 and thus isolated, become an easy prey. Another protector comes 
 to their assistance. It is an a garni, whose voice, shrill as the note 
 of a trumpet, frightens the vulture, and summons the shepherd to 
 the aid of the intrepid chaia. The agami has neither the strength 
 nor the courage of the former, but it surpasses it in intelligence, 
 as it does all other animals except the dog. This bird is of the 
 size of a large chicken ; its plumage is blackish, with shades of 
 brilliant violet on the breast ; its head and neck are covered with 
 a dark violet down, resembling velvet ; its beak is strong ; its eyes 
 large, bi'illiant, expressive. Its body, elongated, almost vertical, 
 arched like that of the partridge, is supported by long, yellow legs. 
 It flies awkwardly, but very swiftly. In the wild state it lives in 
 the woods, feeds on grain and fruits, and builds its nests at the 
 foot of trees. Domesticated, it recognises the hand which feeds it, 
 attaches itself to its master, follows him everywhere, obeys his 
 voice, and caresses him like a dog. Like the latter, it loves and 
 seeks to please, and in order to succeed, makes itself useful. By 
 night it stations itself near the door of the house, and watches 
 what is passing without. If robbers seek to introduce themselves, 
 under cover of the darkness, this vigilant sentinel immediately 
 sounds the alarm, and makes its shrill voice resound like the 
 barking of a dog. During the day, it guards the poultry -yard, 
 and maintains good order there. It drives the hens and pigeons 
 from the garden, and, in fine, renders all the little services of 
 which it is capable, without waiting to be called upon to do so. 
 Sometimes its master confides to it a flock of geese, to be driven 
 to the fields. It is then amusing to see how much trouble it 
 takes to keep the flock in order, to direct them, to hurry them, to 
 compel them to keep together. If a shepherd has no dog, it is 
 said that two agamies are a very good substitute, and that in this 
 case, they develop admirable intelligence and zeal. Xothing is 
 more curious than to see stupid sheep run and jostle one another, 
 in obedience to a bird one-sixth as large, and not a twentieth part 
 as strong as themselves. This is is a striking example of the im- 
 mense superiority of intelligence over physical force. 
 
^N's^^^ 
 
 PORTRAIT OF HENRY CLAT. 
 
BIOGRAPHY OF HENRY CLAY. 
 
 23 
 
 BIOGRAPHY OF HENRY CLAY. 
 
 sE of the greatest statesmen of this or any other 
 age, was Henry Clay of Kentucky. It is no mat- 
 ^^ ^'^==^^ ter, now that he has passed from the earth, to 
 what political party he belonged. The most zealous par- 
 tisan, Avhether he be Whig or Democrat, must accord to 
 this man statesmanship such as has rarely been equaled 
 in the world's history. 
 
 Presuming my readers would all be glad to read a biographical 
 sketch of this remarkable man, I will present them with a brief 
 one, for which I am indebted, in a great measure, to the indefati- 
 gable editor of the Student, a work from which I so ofcen borrow : 
 Henry Clay, the seventh son of the Rev. John Clay, was born 
 April 12th, 1777, in Hanover County, Virginia. At the age of 
 five years he lost his father, who was a man of great energy and 
 worth, and with the other children was left dependent upon the 
 good counsel and narrow pecuniary means of a most virtuous and 
 prudent mother. After receiving such limited advantages of a 
 common school education as his native county afforded, he was 
 placed, at the age of fourteen, in a small retail store at Richmond, 
 and a few months afterwards, through the interposition of friends, 
 was transferred to the office of the Clerk of the High Court of 
 Chancery, and devoted much of his time to serving the venerable 
 Chancellor Wythe, as an amanuensis. Here he remained four years, 
 enriching his mind by reading and intercourse with eminent men. 
 Leaving the Clerk's Office in 1796, he commenced the regular 
 study of the law under Robert Brooks, Esq. the Attorney General, 
 formerly Governor of Virginia, and in the course of the next year 
 was admitted to practice. Directly afterwards he i-emoved to Lex- 
 ington, Kentucky. 
 
24 BIOGEAPHY OF HENRY CLAY. 
 
 Though without patrons, without the countenance of influential 
 friends, and at first destitute of even the means of paying his 
 weekly board, he soon commanded consideration and respect, and 
 obtained a large and lucrative practice. He speedily made him- 
 self eminent both in criminal and civil cases. He owed his success 
 chiefly to his knowledge of human nature, his subtile appreciation 
 of character, his uncommon quickness of apprehension, and his 
 great gifts of eloquence, invested with all the advantages of person, 
 voice, countenance, and manner. 
 
 Mr. Clay commenced his political career during the very first 
 year of his residence at Lexington. His brilliant and eflfective ad- 
 vocacy of popular rights speedily made him a general favorite. 
 He was elected to the State Legislature in 1803 almost by accla- 
 mation. Here he entered the lists against the most veteran de- 
 baters, and by the luster of his powers and gallantry of his bearing, 
 won universal admiration. 
 
 Li 1806, Mr. Clay was elected by the Legislature to fill the va- 
 cancy occasioned by the resignation of one of the United States 
 Senators of the State, though he had hardly reached the age re- 
 quired by the Constitution. His official term expiring at the end 
 of the session, he was again sent to the State Legislature, and 
 was elected Speaker of the Assembly. 
 
 In 1809, Mr. Clay was again elected by a vote of two to one 
 to the United States Senate, to supply a two years' vacancy, and 
 in 1811, he was elected a member of the Federal House of Repre- 
 sentatives, and on the very first day of taking his seat was chosen 
 Speaker of that body by a majority of thirty -one votes. This post 
 he continued to occupy during the whole of the war with Great 
 Britain. No man was excited to more intense indignation by the 
 outrages of England upon our commerce, and at the very outset 
 of the session he embarked with his whole soul in favor of meas- 
 ures putting the country in an attitude of resistance to aggression. 
 The war once begun, he continued to sustain it with all the faculties 
 of his nature. The influence he wielded over the moral, and in 
 that way over the physical, power of the country was immense. 
 His animating spirit, his stirring eloquence, his useful counsels, and 
 his untiring energy, were everywhere felt, and incited army and 
 
BIOGRAPHY OF HENRY CLAY. 25 
 
 navy to deeds of valor and victory, as they did the executive to 
 vigor and constancy. So impressed was President Madison with 
 the patriotism and extrordinary abihties of Mr. Clay, that at the 
 very commencement of the war he selected him to be the Com- 
 mander-in-chief of the army, and was induced to Avithhold the 
 nomination solely by the consideration of the immense Avorth of 
 his services as a popular leader in Congress. In January, 1814, 
 Mr. Clay, having been designated as one of the commissioners to 
 negotiate a peace, resigned the Speakership, and repaired first to 
 Gottingen, and afterwards to Ghent. Upon this commission he 
 exercised a great influence. 
 
 The negotiations having been completed, Mr. Clay, leaving Ghent, 
 spent a few months in France and England, and then returned to 
 his own country, where he was everywhere greeted with the most 
 marked tokens of gratitude and admiration. 
 
 In 1815, Mr. Clay was again unanimously elected to Congress, 
 and was again chosen Speaker by a large vote. 
 
 He was off'ered by President Madison a seat in the Cabinet and 
 a mission to Russia, but declined them both. In 1818, during the 
 struggle for the establishment of liberty in South America, Mr. 
 Clay presented a proposition to recognize the independence of the 
 South American colonists, and sustained the same with memorable 
 eloquence and force. He was unsuccessful at first, but for years 
 took every occasion to renew the agitation of the subject, until 
 March, 1822, when the President sent a message to the House 
 of Representatives recommending the recognition of South Ameri- 
 can independence, which proposition was carried with but a single 
 dissenting voice. Mr. Clay's appeals during the struggle were 
 read at the head of the South American armies, and won for him 
 the enthusiastic devotion of the whole southern half of our continent. 
 
 The discussion of the question of admitting slave-holding Mis- 
 souri into the Union, went on from month to month, increasing in 
 vehemence and bitterness, and produced an excitement all over 
 the country, which shook the Union to its very centre. Mr. Clay 
 had for private reasons, connected with his pecuniary aftairs, re- 
 signed his post as Speaker, and retired partially from public life ; 
 but in consideration of the threatening aspect of public afl:airs, 
 
26 BIOGRAPHY OF HENRY CLAY. 
 
 was induced to return to Washington, where, about a fortnight 
 after his ariival, he presented a resolution to refer the whole sub- 
 ject to a committee of thirteen. The resolution prevailed, and a 
 committee was appointed, of which Mr. Clay was chairman. In 
 eight days the committee reported a conciliatory plan, which, after 
 the most strenuous exertions by Mr. Clay and its other friends, was 
 adopted by eighty-seven to eighty-one. Mr. Clay's efforts on this 
 occasion did more than any other human means to rescue the 
 Union from the most fearful discord, and justly earned for him the 
 proud title of " The Great Pacificator." 
 
 On the settlement of the Missouri question, Mr. Clay left Con- 
 gress, to retrieve his private affairs, and resumed his professional 
 labors. In the summer of 1823, he was again elected without op- 
 position to the House of Representatives, when on the first ballot 
 he was again elected Speaker by a majority of four to one. Dur- 
 ing the session he as usual took frequent occasion to mingle in the 
 more important debates of the House. 
 
 In 1824, Mr. Clay was warmly put forward by many friends as 
 a candidate for the Presidency, and received thirty-seven votes in 
 the Electoral College. John Quincy Adams obtained eighty-four 
 votes, Andrew Jackson ninety-nine, William H. Crawford forty-one. 
 The election came before the House of Representatives, and Mr. 
 Clay, with his friends, had it in his power to turn the balance in 
 favor of either of the three candidates. He decided in favor of 
 Mr. Adams, who was thereby elected. 
 
 Mr. Clay accepted the station of Secretary of State, in which he 
 remained during the entire administration, with what efficiency the 
 archives of the State Department will not cease to testify as long 
 as the country endures. No policy could be more completely anti- 
 European and more thoroughly American than that of Mr. Clay 
 during his charge of our foreign aff'airs. At the close of Mr. 
 Adam's administration in 1829, he returned to Kentucky, and in 
 1831 was elected to the Senate of the United States, and in the 
 same month of his reappearance in the Senate he was unani- 
 mously nominated by the National Republican Convention, assem- 
 bled at Baltimore, to the office of President of the United States, 
 on a ticket with John Sargeant as Vice-President. 
 
BIOGRAPHY OF HENRY CLAY. 27 
 
 Being defeated by the re-election of General Jackson, Mr. Clay, 
 remaining in the Senate, continued to be the champion of his 
 party throughout the conflicts of the administration of Jackson and 
 Van Buren, to which he opposed the entire force of his genius and 
 talents. 
 
 In the summer of 1840, his name was again presented to the 
 people in connection with the Presidency, and his claims to the 
 station were w^armly urged upon the Whig Convention ; but Gen- 
 eral Harrison, on the simple ground of superior availability, was 
 finally selected as a candidate. 
 
 In March, 1842, Mr. Clay resigned his seat in the Senate, and 
 took what he supposed to be his final leave of that body in a 
 valedictory address of incomparable beauty and pathos. He im- 
 mediately returned to Kentuck}', where he frequently communi- 
 cated with the public by letters and public speeches on all the 
 exciting topics of the day. Previous to his resignation, public 
 opinion had universally designated him as the next Whig candi- 
 date for the Presidency. At the meeting of the Whig Conven- 
 tion at Baltimore in May, 1844, he was nominated for Piesident by 
 acclamation. One of the most hotly-contested campaigns on 
 record succeeded, and it resulted in the election of James K. 
 Polk, the Democratic candidate. 
 
 In 1848, ]\[r. Clay was again induced by the partiality of his 
 friends to allow his name to be presented to the Whig National 
 Convention, but General Taylor became the chosen candidate. 
 This result was attributable not to any impaired confidence in the 
 pre-eminent merits of Mr. Clay, but solely to the general conviction 
 that Taylor, fresh as he was from his glorious achievements in 
 Mexico, could excite a popular enthusiasm in his favor, which 
 would make him the most available of all Whig candidates. Mr. 
 Clay bore this preference of another with his accustomed mag- 
 nanimity, and not long after returned to his public duties in the 
 Senate, where he received the most admiring and reverential wel- 
 come. 
 
 His efforts on the Compromise Bill was the principal achieve- 
 ment of his last Senatorial career. On the 29th of June, 1852, 
 he was summoned to the bar of his God. 
 
28 EXAMPLE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 For more than half a century his name and his acts have been 
 so intimately blended with the history of his country, that whoever 
 has any knowledge of America, with that knowledge must have 
 learned something of the world-renowned Henry Clay. Nor is his 
 name known merely from his great acts as an orator and states- 
 man. No man of this century has combined so much practical 
 talent with such power over the affections of men. It may safely 
 be affirmed that Henry Clay had more personal friends, who 
 would do and suffer for him, than any other American. He had, 
 however, a despotic will, which made him able to rule his friends, 
 and which also gained for him a powerful opposition from those 
 who chanced to be opposed to him in opinion, or were his rivals in 
 the field of fame. 
 
 EXAMPLE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 When Washington appointed the hour of twelve to meet Con- 
 gress, he never failed to be passing the door of the hall while the 
 clock was striking twelve. His dinner hour was four o'clock. If 
 his guests w^ere not there at the time, he never waited for them. 
 New members of Congress, who were invited to dine with him, 
 would frequently come in when dinner was half over; and he 
 would say to them, " Gentlemen, we are punctual here. My cook 
 never asks whether the company has arrived, but whether the hour 
 has." In 1799, when on a visit to Boston, he appointed eight 
 o'clock in the morning as the hour when he would set out for 
 Salem. While the Old South clock was striking eight, he was 
 mounting his horse. The company of cavalry, who had volunteered 
 to escort him, was parading in Tremont Street, and did not overtake 
 him until he had reached Charles River Bridge. On their arrival, 
 the General said, " Major, I thought you had been too long in my 
 family not to know when it was eight o'clock." 
 
REPETITION IX SERMONS. 29 
 
 THE BOY AND THE ORANGE-TREE. 
 
 'x^^^ 
 
 HADOWS from the leaves of an ovange-tree flitted 
 over a pale boy's forehead, while both stood under 
 the noon-light of an August sun. The boy gazed 
 with wonder at the beautiful tree, with its white, fragrant 
 blossoms, and brightening fruit — the more beautiful be- 
 cause, while indierenous to a milder clime, it flourishes here, too. 
 
 One who loved him, and saw him there, said, " He is like wdiat 
 he looks upon. Sweet and delicate, the blossom of his youth is 
 opening ; while tiiith, manliness, and virtue lipen early in liis heart. 
 Yes : like the orange-tree, he bears the flower and the fruit at once." 
 Winter brought snows, and sleet, and cold. They sheltered the 
 orange-tree, where it might receive artificial warmth, so as not to 
 perish by the wintry blast. They also keep the pale boy within, 
 that he may not breathe the deadly chill of the east wind. But 
 earth is all too cold a place for him. He watches the blossoms 
 falling from the orange-tree, and the fruit growing yellower, and 
 knows that he shall never behold its full ripening. 
 
 And now the one who loves him so, glancing through her tears 
 from the tree to the boy, sees — ah ! what a paleness upon his brow 1 
 It is the blossom fading, dropping to the earth. The fruit was al- 
 most ripened for thee, drooping mouiner ! Be content that the 
 angels gather it. Will it not be perfected in its native heaven ? 
 
 L. L. 
 
 REPETITION IN SERMONS. 
 
 Old Father Bushnell, of Vermont, used to say that the best criti- 
 cism he ever received on his preaching, was from a little boy who 
 bat right at his feet, looking up into his face, as he was preaching 
 in a crowded room of a private house. As he was going on very 
 earnestly, the little fellow s]>oke out, " You said that afore." 
 
30 MY SISTER'S GRAVE. 
 
 MY SISTER'S GEAYE. 
 
 BY MISS ANNE T. WILBUR. 
 
 Where once her little footsteps trod 
 
 Amid the place of graves, 
 Her dust now lies beneath the sod, 
 
 The green grass o'er it waves. 
 
 Summer its sweetest flowers hath shed 
 
 Upon her lowly tomb ; 
 The willow droops above her head, 
 
 There spring's first roses bloom. 
 
 I would not call her back, though lone 
 
 My earthly pathway be ; 
 Though oft I miss her gentle tone 
 
 Of softest melody. 
 
 I would not have that brow of light 
 
 Shadowed by earthly care ; 
 Or future pain and sorrow blight 
 
 That form so young and fair. 
 
 Sweet sister ! tranquil be thy rest 
 
 Beneath the flowery sod ; 
 Pure as the snow on mountain-breast 
 
 Thy spirit dwells with God. 
 
 Unblighted by the ills of life, 
 
 Unsullied by its sin ; 
 Without the conflict and the strife, 
 
 Didst thou thy haven win. 
 
 Well may we weep who linger here, 
 
 By earthly snares beset ; 
 Yet o'er thy grave would shed no tear 
 
 Of pity or regret. 
 
THE SEA-EAGLE. 
 
 31 
 
 THE SEA-EAGLE. 
 
 Early in 1848 a white-tailed sea-eao-le was brought to London 
 in a Scotch steamer, cooped up in a crib used for wine-bottles, and 
 presenting a most melancholy and forlorn appearance. A kind- 
 hearted gentleman, seeing him in this woful plight, took pity on 
 him, purchased him, and took him to Oxford, he being duly 
 labeled at the Great Western Station, " Passenger's Luggage." By 
 the care of his new master, Mr. Francis Buckland, the bird soon 
 regained his natm'al noble aspect, delighting especially to dip and 
 wash in a pan of water, then sitting on his perch, with his mag- 
 nificent wings expanded to their full extent, basking in the sun, 
 his head always turned toward that luminary, whose glare he did 
 not mind. 
 
82 THE SEA-EAGLE. 
 
 Afew nights after his arrival at his new abode, the whole house 
 was aroused by cries as of a child in mortal agony. The night 
 was intensely dark, but at length the boldest of the family ven- 
 tured out to see what was the matter. In the middle of the grass- 
 plot was the eagle, who had evidently a victim over which he was 
 cowering with outspread wings, croaking a hoarse defiance to the 
 intruder upon his nocturnal banquet. On lights being brought, 
 he hopped ofi' with his prey in one claw to a dark corner, where 
 he was left to enjoy it in peace, as it was evidently not an infant 
 rustic from the neighboring village, as at first feared. The mys- 
 tery was not, however, cleared up for three days, Avhen it was as- 
 certained that he had devoured a hedgehog. He had, doubtless, 
 caught the unlucky hedgepig when on his rounds in search of 
 food, and, in spite of his formidable armor of bristles, had managed 
 to uncoil him with his sharp bill, and to devour him. IIow the 
 prickles found their way down his throat is best known to him- 
 self; but it must have been rather a stimulating feast. 
 
 This eagle was, Avitli good reason, the terror of all the other pets 
 in the house. On one occasion he pursued a little black and tan 
 terrier, hopping with fearful jumps, assisted by his wings, which, 
 happily for the aftVighted dog, had been recently clipped. To this 
 the little favorite owed his life, as he crept through a hedge 
 which his assailant could not fly over ; but it was a very near 
 thing, as, if the dog's tail had not been between his legs, it would 
 certainly have been seized by the claw, which was thrust after him 
 just as he bolted through the briers. Less fortunate was a beauti- 
 ful little kitten, the pet of the nursery : a few tufts of hair alone 
 marked the depository of her i-emains. Several guinea-pigs and 
 sundry hungry cats, too, paid the debt of nature through his 
 means ; but a sad loss was that of a jackdaw of remarkable col- 
 loquial jx)wers and unbounded assurance, who rashly paying a visit 
 01 a friendly nature to the eagle, was instantly devoured. Master 
 Jacko, the monkey, on one occasion, only saved his dear life by 
 swiftness of foot, getting on the branch of a tree just as the 
 eagle came rushing to its foot with outspread wings and open beak. 
 The legend is, that Jacko became rather suddenly gray after this ; 
 but the matter is open to doubt. 
 
THE SEA-EAGLE. 83 
 
 One fine summer's morning the window of the breakftist-room 
 was thrown open previous to the appearance of the family. On 
 the table was placed a ham of remarkable flavor and general 
 populaiity, fully meriting the high encomiums which had been 
 passed upon it the previous day. The rustling of female garments 
 was heai'd, the breakfast-room door opened, and, O, what a sight! 
 There was the eagle perched upon the ham, tearing away at it 
 with unbounded appetite, his talons firmly fixed in the rich, deep 
 fat. Finding himself distui'bed, he endeavored to fly oft" with the 
 prize, and made a sad clatter with it among the cups and sau- 
 cers : finding, however, that it was too heavy for him, he suddenly 
 dropped it on the rich carpet, snatched up a cold partridge, and 
 made a hasty exit through the window, well satisfied with his for- 
 aging expedition. The ham, however, was left in too deplorable 
 a state to bear description. 
 
 The eagle was afterward taken to London, and placed in a 
 court-yard near Westminster Abbey, where he resided in solitary 
 majesty. It was from thence he made his escape on the 9th of 
 April. He first managed to flutter up to the top of the wall ; 
 thence he took flight unsteadily, and with diflSculty, until he had 
 cleared the bouses ; but as he ascended into mid-air his strength 
 returned, and he soared majestically up, as has been narrated. 
 After his disappearance, his worthy master said, with a disconso- 
 late air, " Well, I've seen the last of my eagle ;" but thinking that 
 he might possibly find his way back to his old haunt, a chicken 
 was tied to a stick in the court-yard ; and, just before dark, mas- 
 ter eagle came back, his huge wings rustling in the air. The 
 chicken cowered down to the ground, but in . vain ; the eagle saw 
 him, and pounced down in a moment in his old abode. While 
 he was busily engaged in devouring the chicken, a plaid was 
 thrown over his head, and he was easily secured. After this es- 
 capade he was sent to the Zoological Gardens, Regent's Park, 
 where he may be recognised by his having lost the outside claw 
 of the left foot. 
 
 VOL. IV. 2* JT 
 
84 THE GOOD OLD PLOUGH. 
 
 THE GOOD OLD PLOUGH. 
 
 Let them sing who may, of the battle fray, 
 
 And the deeds that have long since passed ; 
 Let them chant in praise of the tar whose days 
 
 Are spent on the ocean vast ; 
 I would render to these all the worship you please, 
 
 I would honor them even now ; 
 But I'd give far more, from my heart's full store, 
 
 To the cause of the good old plough. 
 
 Let them laud the notes that in music float, 
 
 Through the bright and glittering halls ; 
 While the amorous twirl of the hair's bright curl 
 
 Round the shoulder of beauty falls; 
 But dearer to me is the song from the tree, 
 
 And the rich and blossoming bough; 
 O, these are the sweets which the rustic greets, 
 
 As he follows the good old plough. 
 
 Full many there be that we daily see, 
 
 With a selfish and hollow pride. 
 Who the ploughman's lot, in his humble cot. 
 
 With a scornful look deride ; 
 But I'd rather take, ay, a hearty shake 
 
 From his hand than to wealth I'd bow: 
 For the honest grasp of his hand's rough clasp, 
 
 Has stood by the good old plough. 
 
 All honor be then to these gray old men. 
 
 When at last they are bowed with toil. 
 Their warfare then o'er, they battle no more, 
 
 For they've conquered the stubborn soil, 
 And the chaplet each wears in his silver hairs ; 
 
 And ne'er shall the victor's brow 
 With a laurel crown to the grave go down. 
 
 Like the sons of the good old plough. 
 
THE PLOUGH MAX. 
 
THE BITTER GRIEF. 87 
 
 THE BITTER GRIEF. 
 
 BY WM. EDWARD KNOWLES. 
 
 Drifting, and forever drifting-, 
 Down the pathway of my feet. 
 
 Is the grief that has been sifting, 
 Slowly sifting, rain and sleet. 
 
 It was when my little sister 
 
 Closed her eyes in sign of rest; 
 
 And my mother, weeping, kissed her, 
 Telling me that she was blest, 
 
 That my grief commenced its drifting 
 Down the pathway of my feet. 
 
 Sifting slow, and slowly sifting, 
 Flakes of snow, and flakes of sleet. 
 
 Tried I then in vain to wake her, 
 
 Calling loud to her in vain ; 
 But that sleep would not forsake her, 
 
 That those eyes might ope again. 
 
 She is sleeping, sweetly sleeping. 
 Thought I, as I called her name ; 
 
 But a chill was o'er me creeping, 
 As I saw she slept the same. 
 
 And the day was dark with sorrow. 
 When I, weeping, scarce did know. 
 
 That my sister, ere the morrow, 
 Would be sleeping in the snow — 
 
 Soon would sleep where storms were siftint 
 Flakes of snow and flakes of sleet ; 
 
 With the storms of sorrow drifting 
 Down the pathway of my feet. 
 
 Years have passed, and I am weeping, 
 
 That I did not find relief. 
 In the same mound that is keeping 
 
 The loved object of my grief. 
 
38 HOMEWAED BOUND. 
 
 Yet my feet shall not grow weary, 
 Though the way is long before ; 
 
 Nor my heart grow sad and dreary, 
 Ere I reach the for-ofF shore. 
 
 Never then sliall I be weeping: 
 I shall understand and know 
 
 That my sister is not sleeping 
 In the mound within the snow ; 
 
 But an angel, high in heaven, 
 Taken from this strife below, 
 
 And to her young heart is given 
 Truths that mortals cannot know. 
 
 HO^IEWAED BOUND. 
 
 The mariner on the bounding sea 
 
 Right joyful trims his sails. 
 His ship is s'aunch, and what cares he 
 
 For the rudely whistling gales? 
 At the helm is a faithful pilot found, 
 And joyful he cries: " Tm homeward bound." 
 
 The Christian on life's stormy sea 
 
 Thus gladly guides his bark ; 
 Faith is his pilot, and what cares lie 
 
 Tho' all around be dark ? 
 His eye is fixed on a beacon-light. 
 And onward he steers through storm and night. 
 
 He is homeward bound — the land of the blest, 
 
 Is his haven sure and bright, 
 Where he his time-worn bark may rest 
 
 'Mid stre: ms of living light; 
 No more shall the tempests of time assail ; 
 No more be tossed by the treacherous gale. 
 
 MAGNOLIA. 
 
MY WREN FAMILY. 
 
 39 
 
 MY WEEN FAMILY. 
 
 Thinking it quite likely, last spring, that some blue bird or 
 wren would like accommodations for a nest near my dwelling, I 
 bad a box made, and after providing it witb some nice, fine bay, 
 had it placed on the outside of the barn, next the garden. The 
 blue birds, in a short time, found out the retreat ; but, somehow 
 or other, they did not seem exactly to fancy the situation. Per- 
 liaps they were a little afraid of Lion, our good-natured, though 
 frolicksome dog. Possibly, as we were new-comers in these parts, 
 they entertained some honest doubts (knowing that there is a vast 
 difference in mankind as to their regard for the bird race) whether 
 we would treat their family kindly. And, it may be, after talking 
 the matter all over, that they thought a dwelling in some old, 
 hollow apple-tree would be safer and better. At all events, they 
 didn't conclude to occupy the home I had offered them. It was 
 well for them, too, I suspect, that they chose another habitation ; 
 for if they had attempted to settle here, they would, just as likely 
 as not, have been routed by the wrens, as those chaps are great 
 fighters, and make nothing of turning a family of blue birds right 
 
40 MY WEEN FAMILY. 
 
 out of doors. I say, perhaps it was better as it was ; for the wrens 
 soon got their minds on the place, and occupied it. 
 
 I wish you could have seen that- pair of wrens at tlie moment 
 when they discovered the box, with its conveniences for a nest. 
 The husband pretended to be the first discoverer. Whether he 
 was or not, is more than I can say. The male wren is a great 
 blusterer, anyway. He claims all that belongs to him, and a 
 little more. In this respect, he is very like Beau Nash, our king- 
 let of the barn-yard. Beau considers it his duty, of course, always 
 to make an inordinate fuss over whatever in the shape of kernels 
 of corn, or bugs, or pai-ticularly fleshy angle-worms, he is so for- 
 tunate as to find ; and he calls the tribe under his command to 
 come and help themselves to these nice morsels, with as much 
 pride and pomp as Napoleon would display, when he returned to 
 Paris from one of his ^^ctories, with his ill-gotten spoil. That, 
 however, is quite pardonable, as Beau has such high authority 
 for the habit. But his arrogance and egotism lead him to claim 
 the merit of discovering everything valuable that turns up in the 
 range of his adventures. I have known him, after some quiet 
 hen has been enjoying a breakfast for five minutes, suddenly run 
 to the spot where her henship was regaling herself, and say, as 
 plainly as a rooster could say, " Lovik here, my lady. See what a 
 nice morsel I have found for you. It takes me to provide for a 
 family. vSuch keen eyes as I have got ! I can see a worm half a 
 mile off." And then he is sure to call all the rest of the family, 
 and to cackle out his praise, under pretence of inviting them to 
 breakfast. 
 
 But to our wrens. Such a noise as the gallant husband made 
 over that newly-discovered place for a nest ! He was quite beside 
 himself with joy and self-laudation. And he was not only beside 
 himself, but he was beside his mate, too, who was sitting, thought- 
 fully, upon the side of the barn, while her consort was making such 
 a bluster — he was beside her, pretty soon, trying to infuse some- 
 thing of his enthusiasm into her bi-east. A very quiet, matronly 
 wi-en, was Jenny, though. Poetry and romance she seemed to 
 have had none, perhaps because her partner had usurped so much 
 of both for his share. She merely replied to his fidgety encomiums 
 
MY WREN FAMILY. 41 
 
 on the delicious retreat wliicii he Lad found, that she thought it 
 not unlikely it would prove a suitable enough place for a nest. 
 
 And so they — the noisy, rolicking, boastful husband, and the 
 quiet, matter-of-fact, matronly wife — built their nest, and in pro- 
 cess of time it was adorned by four of the prettiest little eggs im- 
 aginable. They both became very tame. Jenny, especially, when 
 she could be spared from her nest, would come up to our very door 
 to get food for her young. I liave known her, indeed — the con- 
 fiding creature ! — repeatedly fly into the wash-house, while the 
 laundress was at work there, and help herself to such morsels of 
 Lion's dinner as remained unappropriated, for which exhibition of 
 confidence Lion — to his shame be it said — repaid lier by chasing 
 her all around the yard, whenever he could get a chance. As for 
 Master Fidget, the wren husband — I'll say that for him — ^lie was 
 one of the most attentive husbands I was ever acquainted with, 
 while his partner was busy with the household affairs. I suppose 
 Jenny, though herself unable to sing, to have been a great lover 
 of music. At all events. Fidget seemed to take it for granted 
 that she had a very appreciative musical taste, and a good deal 
 of it ; for, sitting near by, sometimes on the barn, sometimes on 
 the grape arbor, and sometimes on the threshold of his house, he 
 would sing to her almost from morning till night, and I sometimes 
 half-suspected that he kept up his twittering all night, for I fre- 
 quently left him hard at it when I went to bed. 
 
 The notes of the wren are very pleasant. I cannot tell you how 
 much I enjoyed the music of the one which I called my own, be- 
 cause he took possession of the box I had fitted up on my own 
 piemisos. In the morning, especially, between four and five o'clock, 
 his solo was delightful. 
 
 "He Avhose religion is ever on his lips," says one, "has sel- 
 dom any of it in his heart ; it keeps watch, like a liveried por- 
 ter at his door, but there is nobody at home, and thei'e is nothing 
 to steal ; if it were well lodged in his soul, he would not be afraid 
 of its escape. He who vouches for his own truthfulness by an oath, 
 will tell a lie the next moment without a blush." 
 
4:2 VACATION DIALOGUE. 
 
 VACATION DIALOG-UE. 
 
 Vacation's here, but I don't see 
 Whether sad or glad to be. 
 I love study, books, and school ; 
 I have tried to keep each rule; 
 And it truly makes me grieve 
 That my schoolmates I must leave. 
 
 Soon over the prairies and hills I'll be flying-. 
 I'll laugh and I'll shout with my dear little brother, 
 And thro' the fresh hay we'll go chasing each other. 
 I'll call to the birds at the top of my voice, 
 " Vacation has come ! why don't you rejoice ?" 
 
 Well, I do ; and many a day 
 I shall frolic, laugh, and play. 
 Father kind and mother dear 
 Fain I would be always near. 
 Still I cannot, without pain, 
 Leave my darling books again. 
 
 SALLY. 
 
 Books ! oh, 'tis ftir too hard work to be wise ! 
 And studying Latin puts out my eyes. 
 Arithmetic snarls up the thoughts in my brain ; 
 And pronouns and verbs put me into sad pain. 
 Away with all books to the end of the nation I 
 No study shall trouble me through the vacation. 
 
 Yes, but then you know you might 
 Quite forget to parse and write. 
 Sure you would not throw off, clear, 
 
BRAZILIAN VESPER BELL. 43 
 
 All the labor of the year. 
 
 Clouds are seen in sunny weather; 
 
 Books and play must come together. 
 
 Study then, if you please ; / like frolicking better, 
 So don't make me put my glad heart under fetter. 
 
 Oh ! play if you wish, but don't bid me spurn 
 The knowledge I've studied so closely to learn. 
 
 BOTH. 
 
 But what is the best thing for us both to try? 
 Some play and some study. We'll do it, Good-lrye ! 
 
 ^fONTICELLO. 
 
 THE BRAZILIAN VESPER BELL. 
 
 In Brazil, all journeys are suspended at the Ave Maria, that is, 
 the vespers to the Virgin, which commence after sunset. Instead 
 of a curfew, a very simple and pleasing circumstance announces 
 this period in the country. A large beetle, with silver wings, just 
 then issues forth, and, by the winding of its small, but solemn 
 and sonorous horn, proclaims the hour of prayer. A coincidence 
 so striking, and so regular and frequent in its occurrence as this, 
 was not likely to escape the honor of a religious superstition to 
 account for it. Accordingly, the inhabitants of that country re- 
 gard it as a sacred insect, supposing that it is a herald expressly 
 commissioned by the Virgin to announce the time of her evening 
 prayer. Hence, it is called the Ave Maria Beetle. " On the hill 
 of Santa Theresa," says a modern traveler, "I hav« heard it often 
 in the evening, humming round the convent, and joining its har- 
 monious bass to the sweet chant of the nuns within at their evening 
 service." 
 
44 
 
 WONDERS OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 WONDERS OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 'i 
 
 ^f 
 
 ^\^mi>mi\m'tiifiA ^^ circumference of this globe is computed to be 
 ^.^B^P^ 25,000 miles, and it revolves once on its axis in 
 24 hours; consequently, any one spot is carried 
 round 25,000 miles in that S2:)ace of time, which 
 is upwards of 1040 miles in an hour, or 173 miles in one 
 minute ! Vast as this may seem, yet, when put in com- 
 petition with the amazing velocity of the earth in its orbit, 
 this, of its diurnal evolution on its axis, though indeed astonishingly 
 great, is comparatively tritling and insignificant. 
 
 The distance of the earth from the sun is 195,000,000 miles, 
 which, being the radius of the earth's orbit, we shall have its 
 diameter 390,000,000 miles, and consequently the circumference 
 1225,000,000. Now, as the earth revolves round the sun once in 
 365 days, it would travel (dividing 1225,00,0000 by 365) about 
 5,360,000 miles one day, or 140,000 in an hour. By this calculation, 
 we shall find that the earth is whirled, through the immense region, 
 of space, at the amazing velocity of 2330 miles in a single minute. 
 
 Astonishing as this tact is, yet when compared with those things 
 which have come more immediately under our observation, it is by 
 no means irreconcilable. Those who know with what great rapidity 
 the blood is driven from the heart to the extremities of the human 
 system, and reflect that this rapidity is no greater than is actually 
 necessary for the health and support of the body, may conceive 
 with such velocity such vast bodies as this, and other surrounding 
 worlds, must be impelled in their course, in order that they may be 
 kept in their respective spheres, in a state of health, regularity, and 
 order : for, as an ingenious poet expresses himself, 
 
 " Constant rotation of t"h' unwearied wheel. 
 That nature rides upon, maintains her health, 
 Her heauty, her fertility. — She dreads 
 An instant's pause, and lives hut while she moves.'' 
 
EDITOEIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 45 
 
 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 LETTER FROM MY SCOTTISH NIECE. 
 
 .^'>: 
 
 f;v. BOUT a year ago, Avliile in Scotland, on my way from 
 ^i\s Sterling to Loch Lomond and Locli Katrine, in the 
 k^.j^L^ Highlands, I fell in company with an intelligent 
 /;-);■-■' 7j.>=^-' Scotch gentleman, his wife and two daughters, in 
 > ^>'\' whose society I remained while making my pleasant but 
 ^^ too brief tour amid the charming scenery of the Highland 
 lakes. One of these misses, quite young, but not too young to be 
 quite familiar with the " Lady of the Lake," the scene of which, you 
 know, is laid near one of these lakes, entertained me not a little by 
 her lively conveisation respecting the country through which we 
 passed. I parted with this family, not without a great deal of re- 
 gi-et, at Glasgow — they returning to their home, near the ivy-clad 
 ruins of the old castle which gave birth to the first Charles — I 
 proceeding to Liverpool, whence I soon embai-ked for America. 
 A month or two after my return, I sent a copy of the Cabinet to 
 several whose acquaintance I made in Europe, and to this Scottish 
 family among the rest. Xot long since, I received a letter from one 
 of the family. Miss Isabella, the girl who quoted Sir Walter Scott 
 so readily, acknowledging the receipt of my parcel. Didn't it seem 
 odd to be addressed by the title of " Uncle Frank" by a girl on the 
 other side of the Atlantic ? "Well, I'm not ashamed of such rela- 
 tives, whether they live in the AVesterii or the Eastern hemisphere ; 
 and I have a mind to give you a paragraph or two from her letter, 
 just to let you see what kind of nieces I have in Europe : 
 
 " Charlestowx Cottage. 2d M;n', 1853. 
 '■'■ Dear Uncle Frank, — How kind of you not to foi'get us. The 
 hours we spent with you were very, very pleasant ; and although 
 we, when chatting about our visit to the Trosachs, always spoke of 
 
46 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 you with interest, not as a stranger whom one meets and thinks 
 of no more, but as a dear friend, whom we had known intimately, 
 yet we imagined that you, in the joy of being with your friends 
 after such a long absence, would have no time to bestow a thought 
 on us. Judge, then, how agreeably surprised we were, when 
 father received your package a short time ago. And now I must 
 thank jou for the delightful little magazine you sent me. The 
 children are quite delighted with ' Chick-a-de-de.' They sing it 
 very often, and sister Mary accompanies them on the piano. The 
 ' Brooklyn Polka' is veiy pretty. 
 
 " It is generally believed that Louis Napoleon intends to invade 
 England. Well, if he does make an attempt, surely our good 
 brother Jonathan will help us to chase him back to France. 
 
 " We planted the heather we brought home from the Highlands, 
 but it withered. Did yours grow ? I'm afraid not. I'm sure 
 your niece will never be tired of listening to all you have to tell 
 her of the wonderful things you saw when you were far away from 
 her. Be sure you give her a description of our heather hills, and 
 also of the Scottish fairies you did not see. You nuist not forget 
 your promise, that if ever you visit Scotland again, your little niece 
 sliould accompany you, and that you would spend some time with us. 
 
 "It will aftbrd us all great pleasure to hear from you. So, 
 Uncle Frank, some evening, when you are not much engaged, 
 perhaps you will write us a long, long letter. 
 
 " I must not write any more, lest I tire your patience. So, with 
 kind wishes, I shall say ' Good night.' 
 
 " Yours very sincerely, Isabella ." 
 
 Will my friend Estelle send me the solution of her enigma in 
 the number of the Cabinet for August, 1852 ? It has been a source 
 of great wonder to several correspondents, and I have been obliged 
 to give a very unsatisfactory answer to their applications for en- 
 lightenment. 
 
 The labyrinth with Avhich our friend S. N. has puzzled us in this 
 number, is, I believe, the hardest one yet. Well, try it, all of you, 
 and if you'll send on your names as having found your way to 
 the centre, I'll try and find room for them. 
 
EDITOEIAL TABLE TALK. 47 
 
 During a recent visit to Auburn, in the interior of this State, I 
 could not help waking up to the fact, that in this comparatively 
 inconsiderable town the business of book-making is done on a very 
 large scale. Two publishers there — Messrs. Derby & Miller, and 
 Messrs. Alden, Beardsly & Co. — are publishing and manuf^icturiug 
 books to an extent which would quite astonish some of the cock- 
 neys, who have got a notion that Xew York comprises the greater 
 portion of the habitable globe. Among the excellent works pub- 
 lished by the latter house, are the following, which I have had 
 an opportunity of examining, and wdiich I am sure would be re- 
 ceived with favor in the families of my patrons, whither I trust 
 some of them, at least, will wend their way : Heroines of the Cru- 
 sades, an octavo of some five hundred pages, racily and ingeniously 
 written, and abounding with the most interesting historic inci- 
 dent; Heroines of History, a duodecimo of about the same num- 
 ber of pages, by John S. Jenkins, v,'hicli I can cordially recommend, 
 and wdiich, though recently published, has become a very popular 
 Avork ; the Farm and the Fireside, or the Romance of Agriculture, 
 by John L. Blake, D.D. being, as the author tells us, " half-hour 
 sketches of life in the country;" the Great Cities of the World; 
 and a series of juvenile stories, comprised in six books, called the 
 Silver Lake Stories. AVhoever among my little friends gets one 
 of these little books, will get the means of a rich treat. I do as- 
 sure you, the lady who wrote them deserves to stand in the front 
 rank of writers for the young. I like her mode of story-telling 
 much. Besides the books above-mentioned, this firm publish two 
 volumes which Uncle Frank had a hand in making, and on 
 which, in consequence, it becomes him to bestow his praise some- 
 what sparingly. I may say, however, what I honestly believe, 
 that you might find worse books than these in the market. One, 
 called Buds and Blossoms from Our Own Garden, is the joint 
 production of T. S. Arthur and Uncle Frank. The New York and 
 Philadelphia gardens are about equally represented. Woodiuorth'^s 
 Fireside Museum is an octavo of some four hundred pages, made 
 up of articles bordering a little on the strange and marvelous. 
 
48 THE puzzler's drawer. 
 
 THE PUZZLER'S DRAWER. 
 
 ANSWER TO CHARADE NO. IX. 
 
 A is the Captain so brave and so strong, 
 
 Dell is the valley of flower and song; 
 
 To our neighbor we always should lend our best aid, 
 
 So the name of the whole is, I think, Adelaide. s. n. 
 
 ANSWER TO REBUS NO. III. 
 
 The ev'ry day word is none other than lliread, 
 
 Out of which may be made the words — tear, tea, and licad. 
 
 s. N. 
 Also answered by Alvaro F. Gibbens, of Parkersburg, Va. 
 
 ANSWER TO THE SHAKSPEARIAN PUZZLE. 
 
 When Danes' and Denmark's Prince had lost their king. 
 And Claudius ruled, with damning passion blind. 
 
 What fitter sneer could loyal Hamlet bring 
 
 Than " little more than kin, and less than kind^ 
 
 GaLESBURG, 111. H. E. L. 
 
 Also answered by Mary, of Belleville, N. J. 
 
 In the ^larch number, I gave for a puzzle, " What four letters will 
 make four different words ?" It seems that there are some smart folks 
 among my readers; for different correspondents have sent me five sets 
 of letters which will do this, as follows : 
 
 Plea, Mite, Star, Reap, Sent, 
 
 Pale, Time, Tars, Pear, Nets, 
 
 Peal, Emit, Rats, Rape, Nest, 
 
 Leap. Item. Arts. Pare. Tens. 
 
 ANSWER TO RIDDLE NO. III. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 THE ARITHMETICAL PUZZLE AGAIN. 
 
 There is no use, my dear fellows. You can't make anything more 
 of this thing than the fractional sum I gave in the June number. So 
 you need not trouble yourselves any more about it. For my part, I 
 consider it a very poor puzzle, not worth the paper it occupies in the 
 Cabinet. If I had known as much when it was submitted to me, I 
 should not have published it. 
 
THE puzzler's DRAWER. 49 
 
 RIDDLE NO. I. 
 THE PRIZE RIDDLE, IN PROSE. 
 
 BY " WILLIE N." 
 
 T AM originally a descendant of rags, but, in spite of my mean origin, 
 I boast one of the most numerous families in the world. I wear the 
 countenance of a man, varying in complexion from crimson to azure ; 
 and twice two stars are my companions. But, although of such dig- 
 nity, besides having my face disfigured, I am continually spit upon, and 
 trodden under foot by nil mankind, uho seem to value me only for my 
 good looks — without them, I am despised. I am diminutive in size, 
 and my days are few, but I am well known, and constantly sought after. 
 
 CHARADE NO. I. 
 
 My first a fruit, for which boys trudge 
 
 Full many miles to gather ; 
 Nor will they toil or time begrudge, 
 
 If having to go farther. 
 What sport to climb the loaded tree. 
 
 And shake the fruit in showers — 
 What sport upon the bended knee. 
 
 To work with all boy's powers ! 
 
 My second have you often seen, 
 
 If with a ship acquainted ; 
 And oft have used it too, I ween. 
 
 When you the deck have mounted : 
 The sailor knows it well, and deems 
 
 No native threshold dearer ; 
 Boys often know the same in dreams, 
 
 And long to know it nearer. 
 
 My whole a bird, who in my first 
 
 Doth find his staple diet, 
 Methinks his mouth is seldom pursed, 
 
 Or seldom ever quiet: 
 In Europe dwells he, but we have 
 
 A bird of kindred feather; 
 Perchance my whole across the wave, 
 
 Dislikes our freezing weather. laura. 
 
 vol . IV. ^ .TY 
 
50 
 
 CHARADE NO. If. 
 
 Curtail me once, I am a youth ; 
 
 Behead me once, a snake ; 
 Complete I'm often used in truth 
 
 When certain steps you take. 
 
 anagrams of scripture xames. 
 
 1. Rule, James. 3. Has no dread. 
 
 2. Kate is lame. 4. I moan. 
 
 What names are these, and where are they mentioned in the Bible 
 
 ENIGMA NO. I. 
 
 I AM born of a mament, as ev'ry one knows, 
 
 And rival the tints of the loveliest rose ; 
 
 There are many who think me the offspring of shame, 
 
 But I'm oftener found in sweet modesty's train, 
 
 E'en poets have made me the theme of their muse, 
 
 And painters have studied my delicate hues : 
 
 Yet, would you believe it ! I cause much vexation 
 
 To those who possess me, and some irritation ; 
 
 For I've often betrayed what they would have concealed, 
 
 And some of their most cherished secrets revealed : 
 
 So be truthful, dear girls, or in spite of your tact, 
 
 I'll fly in your faces and tell the whole fact. s. n. 
 
 ENIGMA NO. II. 
 
 Dear child, you'll not find motto, one more worth its weight in gold 
 
 Than this tri-worded motto, which I'd have you now unfold : 
 
 'Twill be a fitting precept e'en for any time or place ; 
 
 Its first of three components is your being's crowning grace ; 
 
 If yours upon the playground, it will make your step how light! 
 
 If yours around the fireside, it will make the flame how bright ! 
 
 Yea, all who know its influence, its blessed holy spell, * 
 
 Will surely own its virtue can the tongue but feebly tell. 
 
 Its eighth, fifth, sixth, and thirteenth, with its tenth for perfect length, 
 
 Will design.ite the spot wherein its first four dwells in strength ; 
 
 Its eleventh, twelfth, are even as its eighth and fifth the same, 
 
 Its ninth and second too are like, and C its seventh's name : 
 
 Now tell me what the maxim says when in its simple whole, 
 
 And tell me if its spirit sweet your conduct doth control. laura. 
 
THE DIAMOND LABYKINTH. 
 
 A PUZZLE BY S. X, 
 
52 THE puzzler's drawer. 
 
 GEOGRAPHICAL QUESTION. 
 
 Two persons started from New York, Thursday noon, April 1st, 
 1852, on a tour around the world, one going- east and the other west ; 
 they arrived at New York Friday noon, April Lst, 1853, 
 
 What day of the week and month did each suppose it to be at the 
 time of arrival ? How long the day, and how many days to the year of 
 each ? On what day of the week will the travelers pass each other on 
 the opposite side of the earth? And which will calculate^ the days 
 rightly, and at what place will the other lose the right calculation ? 
 
 Livonia, N. Y. amanuensis. 
 
 riddle no. ii. 
 
 I'm swift as a shadow; I'm slow as a snail; 
 I fly like the storm-cloud impelled by the gale ; 
 I sail with the mariner o'er the wide sea. 
 And traverse the shore with "the bird and the bee. 
 I travel by day and I travel by night, 
 And rarely from mortals I pass out o^ sight. 
 I dwell in the palace of nobles and kings, 
 But scorn not the cot where the poor mother sings; 
 But though I abide with the lowliest poor, . ^ 
 I ne'er have been turned from the rich man's dooW 
 I'm seen in the moon, when it waxes and wanes, ^ 
 In the sun, too, at times when nature complains, \ 
 I'm courted much under shady bowers. 
 And welcomed at midnight or noon-day hours. 
 I fly round -the world each passing day, 
 And yet I'm as idle as a boy at play ; 
 Nor do I repose at the set of the sun, 
 But wing my way by the light of the moon. 
 By day and by night I enter the door 
 Of high and of low, of rich and of poor ; 
 And yet with a step so noiseless I come, 
 I'm not an intruder abroad or at home. 
 All deeds of darkness I ever eschew, 
 Though many such deeds I am forced to view; 
 And now, since so often my features are^^en. 
 Unless you can guess me, you surely are grefen. 
 Metamora, 111. m. n. m. 
 
^Jl^«^_^ 
 
 '^1 
 
 
 
 -;«": 
 
A GLANCE AT THE POOR IN LONDON. 
 
 55 
 
 A GLANCE AT THE POOE IN LONDON. 
 
 liLT. it be agreeable to you, reader, to glance for a 
 moment at the condition of the poorer classes 
 in the great British metropolis ? Such a glance 
 may interest you, and perhaps it will do you good, for 
 it is well to be familiar with the suflferings as well as 
 the enjoyments of our fellow-men. In no city on the 
 globe, probably, can one see the extremes of society in 
 such close contact as in London. My lodgings, while there, w^ere 
 in the Strand, only a door or two from the Somerset Hous^, where 
 the tide of travel is perhaps as great as in any portion of the city. 
 This imposing edifice, by the w^ay, has a history of its own worth 
 relating. It w^as built by Somerset the Protector, through whom 
 it received its name. For some time, it was one of the most splen- 
 did palaces in the kingdom. After the Protector's execution, it 
 became the property of the Crown. During the reign of the first 
 Charles, and perhaps before that, it was the residence of the Queen 
 Consort of England. Here Queen Henrietta Maria, Charles' wife, 
 entertained her extravagant French household, until the king got 
 tired of them, and expelled them from the kingdom. Somerset 
 House is now appropriated to the use of various government offices. 
 It has two fi'onts — one on the Thames, and the other on the Strand. 
 It is a most imposing edifice in its appearance, as you can see by 
 the engraving. 
 
 It was in my walks in the Strand, in front of this building and 
 near it, that I noticed so often the contrasts between the wealthy 
 and the A|[|^, on the one hand, and the poor and degraded, on the 
 other. Many a time, when fatigued with a long walk, have I taken 
 my stand at the window of the room where I lodged, and watched 
 the tide of liuman life, as it ebbed and flowed in tlie Strand. At 
 
56 A GLANCE AT THE POOR IN LONDON. 
 
 one moment I gazed upon the gay equipage of some great duke, 
 or lord, as it dashed by, with servants in splendid livery ; at an- 
 other moment, the scene changed, and a most disgusting beggar, a 
 perfect burlesque on humanity, hobbled along, covered with rags 
 and filth. 
 
 Hundreds and thousands of people in this great metropolis, live 
 in a state of the utmost want and wretchedness. They do not 
 know, when it is noon, where they shall sleep when the night 
 comes. When they are fortunate enough to get a dinner, they 
 have no idea when or how they shall get their supper. Many chil- 
 dren are educated to beg and pick pockets. There cannot be im- 
 agined a more wretched life than these poor children lead, and the 
 majority of them grow up to be wicked men and women. 
 
 I got acquainted with a good man, while in this great town, who 
 told me a great many interesting anecdotes about the poor. He 
 told me one of a boy, who, poor as he was, got his mother out of 
 prison with his own hands. She was fined by the judge, for some 
 wrong'act, ten shillings ; but as she could not pay the money, she was 
 thrown into jail for a month. Tlie boy, who was only twelve years 
 old, went to a good man, and borrowed the ten shillings, and got 
 his mother out of jail, and then, for days and weeks, almost 
 starved to save money to pay back that whicli he had borrowed. 
 And he did pay it back, every penny of it, though to do so he 
 slept more than one night out in the open air, and lived for many 
 days upon nothing but bread and water, and a small quantity of 
 that. " I saw the boy,*' said this good man, " more than once, and 
 when I saw him, he was ragged enough ; but his face was noble, 
 and although poverty had made his cheeks pale, yet his eyes were 
 bright and his forehead hopeful. I asked him how he lived, and 
 he told me." In the summer months, it seemed, he lives by 
 selling water-cress, and in the winter by selling matches. He is 
 obliged in the summer to get up by two o'clock, and go on foot into 
 the country for miles, and there buy some water-cress, and then 
 he must trudge his way back, and spend the day wjfciering over 
 the streets of London, trying to sell it. When he is tfieiiiost suc- 
 cessful, he only makes twenty-five cents, and out of that small sum, 
 he must buy all that he eats and drinks, his clothes, and the use of 
 
A GLANCE AT THE POOR IN LONDON. 57 
 
 a bed to sleep on at night. But very often be cannot sell all bis 
 water-cress, and tben be goes at night down to the river-side, and 
 hunts for some old crate or box, under which he may crawl and go 
 to sleep, so as to be protected from the dews or rain. And if he 
 cannot find anything of the kind, be lies down under some of the 
 projecting stones of one of the bridges across the Thames. He gets 
 along better in summer than in winter ; for in the frosty weather 
 it is hard to go without a warm bed and fire. 
 
 But amid all his privations, this boy goes every night to a rag- 
 ged school. In the summer, when he rises at two o'clock in the 
 morning, he comes to school every evening, just the same. I won- 
 der how many of the children of America would think of going to 
 school, when tired out and pale for want of sleep. 
 
 I was painfully struck with the fact while in London, and indeed 
 in every part of Europe which I visited, that there is a great gulf 
 between the rich and the poor. The poor and rich live side by 
 side, and yet are strangers to each other. While one class is 
 starving, the other hardly knows what to do with its money. The 
 two classes have no more to do with each other, in social hfe, than 
 if hundreds of miles separated them. Is it not enough to make 
 one sad ? I have known of cases, where people have starved to 
 death in London, while rich meH were passing by their doors every 
 day. 
 
 I heard of a case, where a boy who had once enjoyed a pleasant 
 home, but whose parents both died and left him alone in the world, 
 to battle with it and to earn his bread. He was a fine, open- 
 hearted fellow, and would not be dependent upon the charity of 
 others. There \vas no place open to him but the poor-house, and 
 so he found a place where he could work for a trifling sum each 
 day. Upon this he continued to live. His work was hard, and 
 his frame never was strong ; but his heart was strong, and he was 
 very sensitive, and could never bear tcr think of going to live in 
 the poor-house. And so he struggled on, manfully and heroically, 
 when oldeJ^earts would have broken. His father, whom he had 
 loved, was dead ; his mother was dead too ; and amid all his sor- 
 row, which would have crushed some hearts, he was left to starve 
 or earn his bread — and he so young and tender ! Strong agony 
 
 VOL. IV. 3* AG 
 
58 A GLANCE AT THE POOR IN LONDON. 
 
 sometimes makes some feeble, while it strengthens others. Day 
 after day this poor orphan v/orked with almost the strength of a 
 man, and earned his bread. He had a little room with a poor bed 
 in one corner, which a poor woman had rented to him for a small 
 smiQ, and he bought with the money he earned some bread, and he 
 ate it in his room alone, and drank nothing with it but water. 
 
 But the lad was destined to see his strength fail under such a 
 heavy trial. Each day his cheek grew paler, and his body more 
 frail ; but he did not despair, though in his little room, more than 
 one whole night, did he keep his eyes wide open, all because he 
 could not sleep. Day by day his strength vanished, and finally the 
 man for whom he worked told him he need not come any more, 
 for he could not work hard enough to suit him. He had saved a 
 few shillings, and upon these he lived. Each day made the little 
 sum less, until not a penny was left. He had become white, and 
 sickly, and tremulous. What should he do now ? He was too 
 proud to go to the poor-house, and he would not beg or steal. He 
 tried to get work, but could not, and finally the noble boy gave up 
 in despair, and that heart, which was like a hero's, broke. 
 
 The woman of whom he had hired his little room missed him 
 one morning, and knocked at his door. There was no answer, and 
 she raised the latch, and pushed open the door. The sight before 
 her eyes was an awful one ; for there, upon his miserable cot, lay 
 the orphan boy, white and cold — and* dead. His weary heart had 
 gone away forever from the sad troubles of this world. The face 
 looked happier than it had done for a long time ; for the angel of 
 death had been a sweet messenger to him. 
 
 The physician said that there was no food in his stomach, but 
 he hardly thought it was a death caused by starvation alone, 
 though that must have hastened it ; and the coroner's jury returned 
 a verdict of " Died by visitation of God." Yet he had died of 
 starvation. His heart had broken while thinking of the terrible 
 prospect before him, and even then he had had nothing to eat for 
 hours. ^ 
 
 The ragged schools in London are accomplishing a great and 
 good work for the poorer classes. I am sure I cannot surmise 
 why such a name was ever given to these schools. It is a very 
 
A GLAN^CE AT THE POOR IN LONDON. 
 
 59 
 
 unfortunate one, I think. But it is generally conceded, I believe, 
 that there is not much in a name, after all ; and so we will let 
 that pass. These ragged schools, as they are called, are now es- 
 tablished in almost every part of the great metropolis where the 
 poor and the degraded, reside. Ah, what a bright day was that 
 for London, when John Pounds, the poor shoemaker, first assem- 
 bled that little band of ignorant boys at his house, and taught them 
 to read, and pray, and become good citizens. It was from this 
 
 JOHX POUNDS AND HIS PUPILS. 
 
 John Pounds, a poor, obscure man, that the noble institution of the 
 ragged school, which is now doing so much good in London, is 
 due. He, while working at his last, and pounding away there in 
 his little shop, on his lap-stone, was laying the foundation of one 
 of the most blessed institutions of Christian charity that the world 
 ever knew. That was pounding to some purpose, was it not ? 
 
 I visited one of these ragged schools, while in London. It was 
 held in one of the very worst haunts in the city, and from time 
 immemorial it has had this reputation. In former days it was 
 much more abandoned than it is at present ; and before London was 
 lighted with gas, it was not safe to pass that way at all, unarmed, 
 in the night. So late as the time when the ragged school was 
 
60 A GLANCE AT THE POOR IN LONDON. 
 
 first established in tliis region, a great majority of the inhabitants 
 got their living by petty robberies and picking pockets. I saw, 
 when I approached the door, what sort of people lived in that 
 neighborhood. Hanging around the building, apparently with no 
 other object than to beg or steal, or while away an idle hour, were 
 a score or two of the most abandoned creatures, in appearance, 
 that I ever saw, and several policemen were on duty in and about 
 the room where the school was held. As I entered the door, I 
 heard loud talking, and what appeared to be angry disputing ; and 
 I found that it was perfectly impossible to maintain such order 
 among these scholars as we look for in our Sunday-schools. The 
 first objects that met my eye, as I went in, were placards, posted up 
 in different parts of the room, each bearing some precious sentence 
 from the Bible. These were some of the sentences : " The eyes of 
 the Lord are in every place." " Love one another." " Be sure 
 your sin will find you out." " Look unto me, and be ye saved." 
 " Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." I was told 
 that there were almost a thousand different scholars who came to 
 this school, during a week's time, thoiigli the average attendance 
 was not more than one hundred and fifty in a day. All denomi- 
 nations of Christians unite here in giving instruction. The object 
 of the teachers is not to make Episcopalians, or Methodists, or Bap- 
 tists or Presbyterians, of the scholars, but, if possible, by the grace 
 of God, to lead them from sin and moral pollution to virtue and 
 holiness — from death to life. It deeply aftected me, to see these 
 self-denying Christians thus mingling with the sons and daughters 
 of vice, and earnestly endeavoring to do them good. I could not 
 help thinking that they were a thousand times more worthy of 
 the honor and applause of the world, than the men who have hewed 
 their way to fame on the battle-field, through heaps of human 
 bodies. God bless the men and women in that ragged school in 
 Smithfield. There is a great deal of poetry and romance in the 
 idea of benevolence, as it floats about in the brain of the gi-eat 
 mass of well-meaning people. But there is not much of either in 
 the practical working of the machinery of benevolence, in such a 
 place as a ragged school. Here one, to be useful, must make him- 
 self familiar with the deepest shades of vice, with filth, rags, and a 
 
A GLANCE AT THE POOR IN LONDON. 61 
 
 whole menagerie of loathsome insects. Very earthly specimens of 
 humanity must they be, who are so coated with earth, that one 
 must first put them through the ordeal of the wash-tub and scrub- 
 bing-brush, to satisfy himself that they belong to the human race. 
 And if this process is necessary to get at the bochj^ what must it 
 require to reach the soul ? 
 
 The superintendent of the school I found to be a cheerful, hope- 
 ful man, accustomed to look on the sunny side of things. While 
 I was in the school, a gang of boys, tolerably well dressed, answer- 
 ing to the description of that class of mankind sometimes denomi- 
 nated rowdy in New York, bolted into the room, smoking bad 
 segars, singing snatches of vulgar airs,* and spicing their whole 
 performance with loud and frequent oaths. Of course the exercises 
 of the school were greatly disturbed, and for a time, until the in- 
 truders could be expelled, were entirely suspended. 
 
 " And what does all this mean ?" I asked of the superintendent. 
 
 " Oh," said he, smiling, " this is one of the shades in the picture. 
 There would be no beauty, no meaning in it, if it were all light, and 
 no shadow." 
 
 '• But who are these fellows, and how came they here ?" 
 
 " Why, to tell you the truth, these are some of our own gradu- 
 ates, and they have made us a visit to-day, to show us how fast 
 they are getting to be men." 
 
 " The ungrateful wretches I" 
 
 " Ungrateful you may well say ; but they are not so depraved as 
 you think them, and they had not a particle of malice in their 
 hearts when they behaved in such an unbecoming manner." 
 
 I expressed some wonder, perhaps some doubt, at what the good 
 superintendent said, and he explained. 
 
 " I know every one of these lads," said he. " When they left 
 the school, we found places for them — good places we supposed 
 them to be — and they were orderly and well-behaved at that time. 
 They are now, very likely, in the main, honest and faithful to their 
 employers. But they are under no restraint on the Sabbath. 
 This sacred season is a holiday to them. It affords them the only 
 time they have during the week for recreation, and so they employ 
 it as a day of merriment. They did not think of the mischief 
 
62 A GLANCE AT THE POOE IN LONDON. 
 
 they were doing, wlien they came into our school. They felt as 
 other lads feel at the age of fifteen and sixteen, as if they are 
 men to all intents and purposes, and they wanted to come here, and 
 show off. Every one of them was glad to see us, and thought we 
 should be glad to see them." 
 
 I shook my head, and intimated my belief that they took an 
 odd way to show their kind feelings towards the teachers who 
 had done so much for them, and to whom they were indebted, 
 indeed, for the means of getting an honest living, instead of beg- 
 ging and stealing as they had done. 
 
 " Very well," said the good-natured superintendent. " I don't 
 pretend to justify their conduct. It was certainly in very bad 
 taste. But I insist that their motive was not as bad as it seemed. 
 Why, didn't you see how soon they all became calm, and how 
 quietly they retreated, as soon as I said a dozen words to them ? I 
 used no force with them. I did not allow the police to use vio- 
 lence with them. I appealed to their sense of propriety, and told 
 them how sorry it made me, and all the teachers, to see the 
 children we had once had under our care behave so rudely and 
 recklessly. And they were all ashamed of themselves. They will 
 never show their faces here again ; or if they do come, they will 
 entertain us no more with such manhj exhibitions as we have had 
 here to-day, depend upon it." 
 
 " But pray, sir," I asked, " does not such a scene as this give 
 occasion to the enemies of your movement to doubt the utility 
 of your labors ?" 
 
 " Yes, unquestionably it gives them an occasion for such doubt, 
 though not, as any candid person will allow, any just fause for it. 
 For, what if these boys, a dozen of them, or less, turn out badly ? 
 They certainly cannot be ivorse than they were before we found 
 them. And let those who are disposed to look upon such ex- 
 amples as these, look also at the other side of the picture. Let 
 them note well the hundreds, yes, hundreds of boys and girls who 
 have been elevated from the very dregs of society to honest, intel- 
 ligent, church-going, exemplary, pious men and women, fit to 
 honor the stations they filled in life. Let those who wish us 
 and our enterprise ill, look at these facts, carefully and honestly, 
 
A GLANCE AT THE POOE IN LONDON. 63 
 
 before they decide upon the results of the ]-agg*ed school enter- 
 prise." 
 
 In the evening-, another session of the school was held. I found 
 a large number of pupils present. At this time I had the privi- 
 lege of addressing the pupils for half an hour, and I must give them 
 the credit of listening to me with as much attention as any school 
 I ever addressed in my life. 
 
 After the exercises of the evening were closed, those boys and 
 men — for there are adults as well as children connected with the 
 school — who had no other place to sleep, repaired to the dormi- 
 tory under the school-room, where there are accommodations for 
 one hundred and sixty lodgers. The accommodations, to be sure, 
 are rather poor, but they are much better than these destitute 
 people would otherwise have. They have no home, and not a 
 penny in their pockets ; and unless they were provided for by 
 these good Samaritans, they would be obliged to sleep in the 
 oj^en air, or perhaps in some sewer, if it ha2:»pened to be low 
 tide. The beds in this dormitory — if beds they can be called — 
 are little more than allotted places, of pretty small area, on the 
 floor, provided simply with a blanket and the means of elevating 
 the head a little. One penny loaf, with sufficient water, is allowed 
 each person. After the frugal supper, which I presume most of 
 the lodgei's ate with as keen a relish as you have at your own 
 table, the manager of the lodging establishment conducted evening 
 worship, and the lights were put out, with the exception of a sin- 
 gle one over the desk. 
 
 To entitle themselves to receive accommodations in the lodging 
 department, the pupils must attend the school, and must show that 
 they have not the means of getting lodging elsewhere. Unless 
 some such restrictions as these were insisted on, many indolent 
 persons would abuse this charity. Besides, the keepers of the 
 penny lodging establishments — for they have places in London, 
 such as they are, where one may be lodged for a penny, or two 
 cents — would quarrel with the ragged school enterprise, and do it 
 immense mischief. 
 
 There are in London, at the present time, some one hundred 
 and forty ragged schools, and it is impossible to estimate the 
 
64 
 
 A GLANCE AT THE POOR IN LONDON. 
 
 amount of good they are doing to tlie lower classes. The boys and 
 girls, even, who receive instruction in these schools, are often the 
 means of immense benefit to their former companions. I heard 
 
 
 AN AUVi-NiCRE AVITH PICKPOCKKTS. 
 
 an anecdote illustrating this fact, while I was in London, which I 
 must repeat to you. A boy, once a degraded outcast from so- 
 ciety, had attended a ragged school for some two years, and had 
 become a virtuous and apparently pious young man. One Sun- 
 day, on his way to the school, he was met by half a dozen reck- 
 less boys, some of whom he had known before, and with whom 
 he had roamed about the streets, in pursuit of guilty adventures. 
 
BENEVOLENCE. 65 
 
 These boys, who, at the time they met the representative of the 
 ragged school, were rife for picking pockets, or any other mis- 
 chief that promised gain or sport, determined they would have 
 some fun with their former associate. So they stopped him, and 
 began to laugh at him and ridicule him, in their usual coarse man- 
 ner, for the change that had taken place in his habits. The 
 good-natured boy, instead of hurrying away from these pickpockets, 
 stopped a moment to speak with them. He did not get angry at 
 their taunts; nor did they succeed in making him at all ashamed 
 that he w^as an inmate of the ragged school. After listening 
 patiently to all their ridicule and abuse, he spoke kindly to them, 
 remonstrated with them respecting their evil course, ' and urged 
 them to go with him to the school. At first, they only made fun 
 of the invitation. But when they saw how much in earnest their 
 former companion was, they made up their minds they would go, 
 "just to see what kind of doings they had in them ragged schools." 
 They went, and what is more, every one of them became a per- 
 manent attendant of the school, and never disgraced it. 
 
 Oh wdiat blessings, my dear reader, can w^e all be to our race, 
 if w^e only have the heart to feel for our fellow-men, and set our- 
 selves resolutely to work to be useful to them. 
 
 BEISTEVOLENCE. 
 
 The principle of benevolence comes from God. It shines in 
 the sun ; drops in the refreshing sliow^ers ; whispers in the gentle 
 breeze ; sparkles on the diadem of night ; crowns the year with 
 goodness, and our lives with blessings. It is so in man, in hind^ 
 but difi"ers in degree. It woidd relieve all, heal all, save all, bless 
 all forever. Wherever there is sorrow, there it would be present 
 with its balm ; where there is suffering, there it sheds its benign 
 and healing influence. It is good-will to all ; and all may feel its 
 gracious and tender emotions. 
 
66 
 
 THE TWO SONGSTERS. 
 
 THE TWO SONGSTERS. 
 
 BY ANNE T. WILBUR. 
 
 HERE is, in the southern part of Maryland, a v^iy 
 pleasant place called Woodbury, a plantation 
 A ^t^^r ^^^^ in possession of the Leigh family, and by 
 
 ^'^"*^ them adorned with all the beauty which wealth 
 
 borrow from Nature and Art. Over the white dwell- 
 lad been trained a multiflora, whose rich and fragrant 
 clusters almost concealed it from view, and the lawn before 
 the house was surrounded with locusts, whose white blossoms fell on 
 its green carpet in a snowy shower. In their branches the birds made 
 their nesis, and dwelt undisturbed. By day, the notes of the quail 
 were heard incessantly among them, and when the evening twilight 
 came, and the quail was silent, the whip-i)oor-will commenced his 
 mournful song, and continued it without cessation until morning. 
 One into whose ear and heart these melodies sank not so deeply as 
 the music of well-remembered voices, thus commemorated them : 
 
 A bird in the locust-tree all day long 
 
 Chants in my ear the self-same song ; 
 
 Ever repeating from morn till night, 
 
 The name of some being he calls "Bob White." 
 
 And w^hat is Bob White, little bird, to thee, 
 
 That his name should thus echo from tree to tree ? 
 
 Was he a hero of olden time, 
 
 Whose deeds were forgotten by bards sublime ? 
 
 Was he a " friar of orders gray," 
 
 Shut up in a cloister night and day? 
 
 Or a huntsman bold, with his hounds and horn, 
 
 Away to the chase at the peep of dawn ? 
 
THE TWO SONGSTEES. 67 
 
 Was he a minstrel of low degree, 
 Loving a lady of dignity? 
 Or a noble knight, with an armed band, 
 Bound for the wars of the Holy Land? 
 
 Was he a pirate who roamed o'er the sea, 
 And buried his booty beneath yon tree ? 
 But the plaintive note of thine altered song 
 Tells me I'm doing thy friend much wrong. 
 
 When the last fiiint ray of the setting sun 
 
 Tells that the day is nearly done ; 
 
 When the breeze dies away and the leaves are still. 
 
 You may hear the song of the Whip-poor-Will. 
 
 And who is Will, my poor little bird? 
 For his other name I have never heard ; 
 And why, as you seem to pity him so. 
 Can you wish me to strike so cruel a blow? 
 
 Say, is he brother to that Bob White 
 Who sings in the locust from morn till night ? 
 And what has he done that thy plaintive hymn 
 Ne'er swells on the ear till the twilight dim? 
 
 Hast thou lost, poor Willie, thy worldly wealth 
 Of fame or fortune, of friends or health? 
 Has thy mate deserted her leafy home. 
 Afar in some sunnier clime to roam ? 
 
 Thou art poor indeed, if the voice of love 
 Has ceased to resound in the silent grove ; 
 And lone is the greenest and sunniest spot. 
 Where the tones of affection are echoing not. 
 
 Then utter thy song to the forest trees. 
 And fling its notes on the evening breeze ; 
 Ever warbling thy mournful tune 
 In the mellow rays of the silvery moon. 
 
 For what to the lonely are sunshine and flowers. 
 Or the song of the birds in summer hours ; 
 The glory and beauty of Nature and Art 
 To the wealth of a loving and trusting heart? 
 
68 
 
 A FIGHT WITH A TIGER. 
 
 A FIGHT WITH A TIGER. 
 
 One of the most desperate encounters with a wild beast which 
 I have heard or read of for many a day, took place not long 
 since in Texas. The parties in the struggle, besides the tiger, were 
 Mr. Absolem Williams and his wife. The former was more than 
 sixty years of age. I found the story in the Galveston News. 
 
 The tiger was first discovered on the premises of Mj-. James 
 Drake, who lives in the north portion of Jefferson County, where 
 it entered his enclosure, attacked his horses, and killed one, besides 
 wounding two others. While the tiger was committing its depre- 
 dations, it w^as discovered by Francis Drake, son of the proprietor 
 of the premises, who fired a shot gun at it, wounding it in the 
 side, but not dangerously, when it made its escape. The next day, 
 while Mr. and Mrs. Williams were sitting in their house, (the rest 
 of the family being absent,) they were startled by a strange noise 
 in the yard, in front of their house. Mr. Williams, on going out, 
 discovered his dog engaged with a tiger, when he seized an ox- 
 yoke and aimed a blow at the " varmint," but, missing it, struck 
 
A FIGHT WITH A TIGER. 69 
 
 iiis dog. The dog then got away from the tiger, and retreated. 
 In an instant the tiger sprung on Mr. Williams, and, seizing him 
 by the hand, jerked him about twenty feet. The old gentleman, 
 finding himself in the too powerful grasp of the wild animal, cour- 
 ageously determined to give it the best " rough and tumble fight" 
 in his power, and, having no weapons within reach, he seized the 
 tiger by the throat with his other hand, and throwing his whole 
 strength forward, crushed the tiger to the ground, both falling 
 side by side. At this time Mrs. Williams came to the rescue with 
 a gun, which she snapped at the tiger, but, there being no priming 
 in the pan, it did not go off. Mr. Williams then, with one arm 
 round the tiger's body, and grasping its throat with his other 
 hand, by an effort, disengaged himself. The tiger, discovering a 
 new adversary in the person of Mrs. W^illiams, jumped at her, and 
 attempted to grasp her head within its jaws, while it struck and 
 lacerated her breast with its fore-paws. She tried to avoid the 
 monster, but was felled to the ground. 
 
 In the meantime Mr. Williams had seized the ox-yoke again, 
 and, giving the tiger a tremendous blow, caused it to leave Mrs. 
 Williams, when it leaped into the house and got under the bed. 
 The door was immediately closed, and the monster secured. Mr. 
 Williams was exhausted from the effects of his wounds, from which 
 the blood flowed in streams ; but not so his better half. When 
 she saw their mutual foe thus attempt to take possession of their 
 house, she determined to finish the battle, and, notwithstanding the 
 severity of her wounds, her dress almost entirely torn from her per- 
 son, and covered with blood, she deliberately took the gun, and, 
 shaking some powder from the barrel into the pan, placed the 
 muzzle between one of the openings which the logs of the house 
 afforded, and fired with steady and deadly aim. The tiger was 
 killed. When subsequently measured, it was found to be twelve 
 feet from the tip of its tail to its nose. 
 
 During all the time the fight was going on, no one but those 
 engaged in it were within hearing. Mr. Williams' nearest neigh- 
 bor lives three miles off. However, as Mrs. Williams was washing 
 the blood from her person, a neighbor came riding by, and, alarmed 
 at her appearance, inquired the cause. 
 
70 
 
 MAY DAY. 
 
 MAY DAY. 
 
 IT Day is almost always bright in a child's 
 memoiy. I do not speak of the child whose 
 whole life has been passed in a crowded city, 
 •e this jubilee of spring is but little cared for. I do 
 >peak of the child who knows only the Gothamites' 
 3 af celebrating the first of May, as the great house- 
 moving day. But she who has been brought up from very infancy 
 with the birds and flowers, who hails their awakening from win- 
 ter's sleep with ever new delight, has many links to bind this day 
 in her memory, to make it of all other gala days, the nearest and 
 dearest to her heart. I w(juld not be willing to lose a single such 
 bright remembrancer of my childhood — and more especially is 
 there one May Day which I hope never to forget — a day some- 
 what saddened by mournful associations, yet nevertheless sweet to 
 think of. 
 
 I was eleven years old. I was then living in the new growing 
 city which is still my home. But nature is almost as lavish of 
 her favors here as in the country. There is withal an air of re- 
 finement here, characterizing her, which one can rarely find in our 
 more rural districts. Seldom within the pale of a common coun- 
 cil's jurisdiction, can you see so many groves, and blooming gar- 
 dens, and tasteful law^ns, as may be found nigh the very main 
 street of this my native city. 
 
 A week before the happy May Day of which I now speak, a 
 little number of girls were in pleasant gathering around a horse- 
 chestnut, on our seminary la\vn. How busy their tongues were ! 
 Two or three, a trifle taller than the rest, seemed to take the lead 
 in conversation. Others, more silent, were yet as deeply inter- 
 ested — and one I remember, " Our Lizzie," to me the fairest of 
 
MAY DAY. 71 
 
 the group, was leaning against the tree with myself, saying not a 
 word, but none the less eagerly listening. All might well be at- 
 tentive, and many a girlish heart among that little number might 
 well flutter Avithin her, for the query in discussion was — " Who 
 shall be our May Queen ?" A very difficult question to decide, 
 when almost each one might have a different choice ! Lots were 
 proposed to settle the puzzling point. She who should draw the 
 longest blade of grass, was to be invested with regal honor, and 
 Lizzie, my near playmate, was the successful drawer. 
 
 Ah, Lizzie ! who had ever thought of you as queen ? for school- 
 girls have often strange fancies about such things. We had im- 
 agined just before, that our queen must be tall and dignified, must 
 seem born to rule by her very mien. Yet such ideas were forgot- 
 ten, now that the choice was made, and every eye was turned upon 
 the blushing Lizzie. Immediately we all wondered she had not 
 been the choice of all. Had we yet to learn that love, and gen- 
 tleness, and goodness will sway, where external graces alone cannot 
 hold influence ? My arm was round Lizzie's waist. I could feel 
 her heart throb ; yet how sweetly and humbly she accepted the 
 honor ! 
 
 From that time till May Day, there was busy life at home and 
 in school, in preparation for the coming enjoyment. I am afraid 
 our lessons suffered a little, then. We did surely try to study, and 
 our teachers, always kind, were unusually indulgent ; but was it not 
 very hard to keep one's mind on books, at such a time ? Per- 
 chance, while we were bending over our pleasant Goldsmith, 
 where the rough historical is made all smooth by hajDpy talent, 
 in place of ids kings and queens, living only in the past, we saw 
 rather in the future, our own dear Lizzie, worthier of her crown 
 and throne than was even good Queen Bess. There was so much 
 more real life just before us, than in those stolid forms of the 
 past ! We cared so much more for our even imaginary thrones 
 and powers, than for all the historian's truth ! And if, while in 
 the midst of recitation, we heard a bird's song from the open 
 window, how many glances were interchanged, as if that song were 
 a forward echo of our next May carol ! Such was the effect which 
 the coming May Day produced upon us who were to be but lesser 
 
72 MAY DAY. 
 
 actresses in the grand gala. How was it with her who was to 
 rule the day ? Ah, Lizzie was as quiet, and gentle, and unas- 
 suming as ever, but I wonder if she did not also find an expe- 
 rience in her school-life, in this short preparatory week, that there 
 is no royal road to knowledge. 
 
 Lizzie was among the youngest of our number, the pet and the 
 loved of all. Some of her older playmates, perhaps, could hardly 
 have regarded one so young, so childlike, as their queen, in the 
 common sense of the term. They could look upon her, rather as 
 those old noble British stocks, of the former generation, looked 
 upon their new and youthful monarch Victoria — rather with pater- 
 nal feelings, as seeing one lifted up for them to love, one calling 
 forth emotions of strong loyal tenderness, while authority might 
 rather be vested in themselves. Would not affection prove ever the 
 pleasantest sceptre for a queen to hold ? To love and to be loved 
 rather than to reign ; or, if reigning, to have her throne chiefly 
 in each subject's heart ? 
 
 All the more important preparations for May Day were made 
 by our elder playmates, we younger ones, of course, readily con- 
 curring. But it was pleasant for each to feel that she had a hand 
 in the general helping. Lizzie had no kind mother to advise her, 
 and to share in her coming pleasure, for that mother slept in a 
 grave far down in the sunny South. Lizzie's father, immediately 
 after the death of his wife, had brought his little daughter hither, 
 where she found, with her aunt, a second home. Lizzie soon be- 
 came the darling of her aunt's whole household. Was she not, 
 even before her coronation, a little queen in the hearts of all who 
 knew her ? She was a delicate child, with sunny, brown eyes, 
 and auburn curls, and a clear, blue-veined complexion. As she 
 now rises in my memory, she was the most beautiful being I have 
 ever seen. Why do often the most beautiful so early die ? 
 
 May Day came. When we rose, the sky was dark and lower- 
 ing, nor was there during the early morning a single bright speck 
 in the clouds to give us hope of better things. A slight shower 
 fell, and if it continued, there was no alternative save to enjoy 
 our first of May, not according to the calendar, but according as 
 the sun might show himself. Even a day's postponement would 
 
MAY DAY. 73 
 
 have been a sad disappointment to us all. But about ten o'clock, 
 the sun came out so bi-ightly ! And his beams brought many 
 smiles on youthful faces, for it was not yet too late for our holi- 
 day. In a little while a goodly number were assembled at Cleve- 
 land Place, the residence of Lizzie's aunt. 
 
 Perhaps I can give you a picture of Cleveland Place, as it was 
 then and is now, for that May Day passed not many years ago. 
 The grove was a large one, mostly of tulip trees and magnolias, 
 with a few old elms and a few varieties of the lighter maple. 
 There was a front entrance, guarded by high arched gates, from 
 which were two semi-circular avenues, each terminating at the great 
 stone house. You could not see this house at the entrance, it was 
 so hidden by trees and by the surrounding vines and shrubs. It 
 was of an ancient make, built by an old countryman, but somewhat 
 modernized here and there by its present owner. It was just such 
 a sombre structure as befitted those noble trees, its sentinels ! Attach- 
 ed to one side of the grove, with only a hedge between, was a garden 
 blooming with May flowers. Early roses, mignonette, violets, japoni- 
 cas, sent up their sweet incense of fragrance and beauty, at the 
 coronation of our fair young queen. 
 
 Just as the dial's shadow was at twelve, a procession came slowly 
 down the stone steps and passed over the smooth, gTassy carpet, 
 as gi'een as nature had ever spread, to the uj^per end of the grove, 
 where a bower throne had been built. Lizzie, attired in white, 
 headed the procession. How very pale she was, for it was an 
 eventful day to her ! I remember being half frightened when 
 placing the crown upon her head (for that honor was assigned me) 
 to see her colorless cheek. Four small children had gone before, 
 and strewn flowers in her path ; and when she rose from the 
 little stool on which she had knelt to receive the May wreath, 
 with the flowers above and beneath her, she indeed stood " herself 
 the fairest flower !" 
 
 We had each fairly held our breath during the coronation. 
 There was something almost solemn in it to our younger minds. 
 But when the ceremony was finished, what a merry time we had ! 
 All were to kiss Lizzie's hand, but we oftener made the mistake 
 which Dr. Franklin perpetrated towards the royal lady of France, 
 
 VOL IV. 4 AG 
 
74 CENSUS OF 1850. 
 
 in kissing her cheek. Then there was a feast prepared at the lower 
 end of the grove, the procession was again formed, and — but you 
 may imagine the rest. Meanwhile music was not wanting to make 
 our hearts gladder yet. Sweet human voices joined with the birds 
 in a joyous May carol. 
 
 I cannot say that this May Day was " too happy to last," for 
 that, methinks, is a false proverb. The happiest things are surely 
 the 7nost lasting. Is a Saviour's love, which makes us within hap- 
 pier than all else besides, a transient flame ? But this May Day 
 was very soon spent, and when night came, I trow we were tired 
 enough to sleep and dream rare things. Ah, what did Lizzie 
 dream of? 
 
 Just nine months from then, Lizzie was again at the head of a 
 procession ; but that procession was slowly winding through the 
 cemetery not far from our city. She was still dressed in white, 
 but hers were now the garments of the grave. Dear Lizzie ! 
 Her frail body was there, but she lifld gone to a sunnier clime 
 than her own native South — she had exchanged that withered 
 crown of hers, for a never-fading one, and purer robes clothed her 
 now sinless spirit.. 
 
 Reader, were you ever a May Queen ? No matter whether you 
 have been or not. But oh, may you so live — so honor the Saviour in 
 this world — that you, like Lizzie, may go to the Paradise of God, 
 and be clad in royal robes there ! l. 
 
 CENSUS OF 1850. 
 
 According to the census, the whole number of free white inhabit- 
 ants in the United States, in 1850, amounted to about 20,000,000. 
 Of this number, 17,'736,'792 were natives of the soil, and 2,210,828 
 foreigners. The countries from which we have received the larger 
 portion of this population are classified as follows: Ireland, 961,- 
 719 ; Germany, 537,225 ; England, 281,675 ; British America, 
 147,700; Scotland, 70,550; France, 54,069; Wales, 29,866; all 
 other countries, 95,022. 
 
THE BLUE bird's LAMENT. 
 
 75 
 
 THE BLUE BIED'S LAMENT. 
 
 A FABLE, WITH A MORAL. 
 
 Upon the summit of an elm, on a hill overlooking a farm-house, 
 with fruit-trees and garden, were sitting, face to face, a blue bird 
 and a yellow bird, when it is supposed the following conversation 
 took place : 
 
 Cynea. See the sun nearly touching yon far mountain summit, 
 filling with his level beams the balmy air, so as to make all space 
 around look like a sea of gold. Come, let us fly to yon farm-house, 
 where insects swarm on all the leaves of the orchard and garden, 
 and take our evening repast before we retire for the night. 
 
 Krocida. Excuse me, my dear friend, my feelings cannot bend 
 so low at present as to partake of material good. I am more 
 pleased to remain here and converse with you, the short time I 
 have at this hour to spend. Your remarks on surrounding nature 
 delight me. All things seem filled with sweet melancholy. 
 
 C. Yet I should love to fly with you to yonder farm-house ; and 
 since the motive of gratifying the gross appetite does not entice 
 you, let me suggest that we may do a work of great benevolence, 
 in destroying those increasing swarms of insects which are so in- 
 jurious to the farmer's fruit-trees and garden vegetables. 
 
76 THE BLUE BIRD'S LAMENT. 
 
 K. Benevolence, indeed, would be a nobler object ; but I do not 
 think man worthy of being benevolently treated by the family of 
 birds. 
 
 C. But why, my friend, do you look so down-cast, as if sorrow 
 had taken full possession of your heart ; and. especially since the 
 mention of the human race has been brought up ? If your heart 
 is burdened with woes, tell me the tale of your sorrows ; I will 
 relinquish my intention of flying to the f;irra-house, and prefer to 
 spend this sweet evening hour in conversation. 
 
 K. I have long ago forsaken the haunts of man. I dwell alone, 
 in a shady retreat, behind the summit of yon distant mountain. 
 But I make a pilgrimage every evening at setting sun to this loved 
 spot, and sit silent to indulge in melancholy remembrances. 
 
 C. You excite much interest in my heart to learn your sorrows. 
 
 K. I will give you a brief tale of my woes. My father's native 
 nest was high up in that aspen-tree. My mother, the same season, 
 was born and brought up in the flowing branches of that beautiful 
 willow which you see at the foot of this hill. In their first at- 
 tempts to fly, they often met on the boughs of this lovely elm, 
 and sat awhile to rest their tender wings. Here young Love first 
 took possession of their innocent hearts. The next spring, as hus- 
 band and wife, they selected these sweet shady branches as a home 
 for themselves, and all that was dear to them in life. Here, where 
 I now sit, I first saw the light of heaven. There were four of us, 
 two brothers and two little sisters. Sweet were the early days we 
 spent in this loved nest. My mother flew away to the farmer's 
 fields, to gather insects for our food, while my father sat on a 
 branch above us to guard us, and sang the loved songs of summer. 
 When our mother returned we lifted our tender wings, and opened 
 our little mouths with chattering till the nest trembled with the 
 joyous pulsations of our young hearts. Thus flew the golden 
 hours, till one day my mother returned from the field, and was 
 busy supplying the little open mouths of her children, each with 
 an insect, when my father — ah ! I shall never forget the sound — 
 uttered a sudden cry which pierced our hearts through and through 
 with terror ; and as he uttered the cry, he darted flutteiing to- 
 wards the nest, as if more eftectually to alarm our mother, but it 
 
THE BLUE bird's LAMENT. 77 
 
 was too late. She had just time to raise her head. The dreadful 
 explosion shook the earth, air and sky ! Sulphurous smoke dark- 
 ened our leafy home. A moment passed. My poor mother lay 
 bleeding on the edge of her nest ! The warm fluid ran freely 
 down where we sat. Our little feet and naked wings were stained 
 with the tide of life that flowed from our dying parent ! At this 
 terrible moment I looked over the edge of the nest, and I saw for 
 tlie first time what they call a man. As he looked up at me with 
 a demoniacal grin, such fiendishness issued from his eyes that 1 
 fainted, and fell back in the nest, where I was insensible to the 
 sorrows that surrounded me, till my father waked me next morn- 
 ing while he was struggling to roll my mother's dead body from 
 the nest. I learned from him, that the murderer of my mother, 
 after throwing a few random stones at the nest, had passed along 
 with his gun on his shoulder, while my poor father had sat all the 
 night upon a leafy branch uttering mournful notes for his lost mate. 
 But when morning came, he felt that something must be done ; 
 that the dead body must be removed, and food provided for the 
 motherless children. No sooner had the dead body fallen from 
 the nest, than my father again shrieked out — an animal w^as 
 devouring the remains of my mother. It was a sorrowfid sight. 
 Thus I have described to you somewhat particularly the intro- 
 duction of my sorrows. Time would fail me to continue them 
 in detail ; and all these woes have originated from the wanton 
 cruelty of that wingless biped who styles himself the " lord of 
 creation." I will give you in few words an account of the tragical 
 end of the remaining members of my unhappy family. After the 
 death of my mother, my disconsolate father applied himself to the 
 tender charge of providing for his children. But only a few days 
 had elapsed when a second explosion, by the same human monster 
 who murdered my mother, again sent horror to our aflBicted home. 
 My father screamed out in the midst of the sulphurous smoke, 
 and, as he attempted to fly away, I saw one limb dangling, for a 
 shot had broken his thigh ! "When night came, he returned, all 
 swollen and in great pain. He sat all night on a branch near 
 his little ones, uttering mournful notes. When the day dawned, 
 he made a last eftbrt to fly in search of food to supply his dear 
 
78 THE BLUE bird's LAMENT. 
 
 ones, now crying with hunger ; his stiffened limbs failed him, and 
 he fell to rise no more. We, in the nest, sat all day long, crying 
 for food. Night came, but brought not the return of father or 
 mother. Deep were the sorrows of that night. The morning's 
 first light showed us that our two sisters were no more. The 
 golden edging round their mouths was pale, and their eyes were 
 faded in death. My brother and I took our last resolve to flee 
 starvation by committing ourselves to our unpracticed wings. Poor 
 little brother, at the outset of our enterprise, fell and broke his 
 neck ! I reached yon brier thicket, where untold sufferings and 
 dangers awaited me, until my wings grew strong enough to bear 
 me from those terrible scenes of woe, and far from the haunts of 
 man. 
 
 C. Yours is a tale of sorrow, indeed, my friend ; but be of good 
 cheer. A day of retribution is at hand for your persecutors. The 
 inferior creation was made for the use of man, but when he 
 abuses it, the evil will sooner or later fall upon his own head. 
 A law of subserviency is broken by man by his cruelty to birds. 
 A nice balance was originally fixed between the kingdom of in- 
 sects and that of birds. l^)y the extermination of the latter, man 
 promotes in the former a formidable increase. Hear him mourn 
 over his dying young peach-trees, his germinating vegetables 
 withering as soon as they spring from the earth, his grain fields 
 and meadows prematurely fading. Thus rise the creeping millions 
 from the earth to revenge our extermination, by destroying the 
 hope of the husbandman. Then see him ransack books for " the 
 cause." Hear him philosophize : " It was not formerly so ; nature 
 must have changed." Wicked man ! your cruelty has changed 
 nature. Restore to God's most beautiful, most innocent, most melo- 
 dious, most lovely part of creation, the privileges, the kind treat- 
 ment which is their due, and the curse will be removed. Like 
 messenger angels, they will sing you the songs of peace, and restore 
 to you manifold blessings. w. r. 
 
JOHN O' GKOAT's house. 
 
 79 
 
 JOHI^ 0' GKOAT'S HOUSE. 
 
 In the exti-eme northern part of Scotland, almost within sight of 
 the Orkney Islands, amid some of the boldest cliffs in that country 
 so celebrated for its wild and picturesque scenery, formerly stood 
 John o' Groafs House. The traveler, perchance, may seek in vain, 
 in these days, for any vestiges of the old mansion. But it stood 
 there once, for all that. The circumstances connected with its erec- 
 tion were so peculiar, that I must relate them to you. You have 
 no doubt often heard of the spot, as nothing is more common than 
 for an Englishman, in speaking of the whole extent of the island, 
 from north to south, to say, " from John o' Groat's to Land's 
 End." The house itself being gone, the name John o' Groafs 
 House is transferred to the cliffs among which it nestled long ago. 
 
 The legend — perhaps it ought to be dignified as history — con- 
 nected with the spot, runs something as follows : 
 
 In the reign of James IV. of Scotland, three brothers of the 
 family of Groat^ came over from Holland, and got possession of 
 the lands on this coast, each having an equal share. In process 
 of time, their families having increased, the original est^e was 
 
80 JOHN O' GROAT'S HOUSE. 
 
 held by eight equal proprietors of the name of Groat. Every 
 year they were accustomed to have a meeting, to celebrate the day 
 on which the landing took place. On one of these occasions, a 
 violent dispute arose among them. You could not guess what a 
 trivial affair it was about. It was as to the head of the table — 
 which of their number was entitled to the place. This matter 
 threatened, at length, to break up the colony. John o' Groat, how- 
 ever, one of the proprietors, and the owner of the ferry where the 
 company were assembled, prevailed upon them to separate peace- 
 ably that time. He represented to them the unhappy plight in 
 which they would all be placed, if the quarrel went on, as their 
 neighbors would take advantage of it to make themselves masters 
 of their lands. Before the day came round for the next meeting of 
 the family, John built a house in the form of an octagon — with 
 eight sides to it — with a door and window on each side, and a 
 table in the middle, in the same form. When they met, he had 
 each one enter his own door, and sit at the head of the table, he 
 agreeing to take the last seat. By this simple contrivance, any 
 dispute as to rank was prevented, and the former harmony and 
 good humor of the family were restored. 
 
 Whatever credit may be given to this tale, John o' Groat was a 
 real personage, and figures in history. He obtained a charter of 
 lands from the Earl of Caithness in 1496, and settled on this spot. 
 The only thing, perhaps, to repay the tourists — and their name is 
 legion — who visit John o' Groat's House, is the bold headland, 
 with its deep chasms, and detached pinnacles of rock projecting 
 into the sea, presenting some of the wildest scenery imaginable. 
 
 Chateauneuf, keeper of the seals of Louis XHI. when a boy of 
 only nine years old, was asked many questions by a bishop, and 
 gave correct answers to them all. At length, the prelate said, " I 
 will give you an orange if you will tell me where God is." " My 
 lord," replied the boy, " I will give you two oranges, if you will tell 
 me where he is not." 
 
AUNT BECKY. 
 
 81 
 
 AUNT BECKY. 
 
 ■T. (^:r^ 
 
 ins is the name of an old lady still living in one of 
 the rural towns of Connecticut, whose early history 
 is ^vorth preserving. Her father's family consisted 
 of herself and a twin sister, and six sons. A little 
 before the Revolutionary war commenced, her father re- 
 moved with his family from the neighborhood where Aunt 
 Becky now lives, to New Stamford, in the State of New York. 
 Here he erected a log house, and commenced clearing a portion of 
 the farm, and tiying to raise some corn, and wheat, and potatoes, 
 with which to feed his family. They saw rather hard times, as 
 provisions were scarce, and they were a great many miles from any 
 mill. Sometimes they lived on parched corn, and sometimes on 
 bean-porridge, and had often but a scanty supply of these. But 
 though times were hard before the war began, they were much 
 harder afterwards. Some of their neighbors were tories, who were 
 none too good to sell their birth-right for a mess of pottage. 
 
 One spring, while the people were scattered in the woods, tap- 
 ping the maples, gathering sap, and making sugar, the Indians, 
 instigated by the tories, rushed upon the unsuspecting inhabitants 
 and took a number of captives. Among the rest, they took Aunt 
 Becky's father and four brothers. She and her sister, then ten or 
 eleven years old, were in the woods, collecting sap. The savages 
 followed their track from the house, and found them. The girls, 
 greatly terrified by their approach, attempted to run away from 
 them. But the snow was so deep that the Indians, on their snow- 
 shoes, soon overtook them. They w^ere permitted, however, to re- 
 turn home, the Indians doubtless thinking that such small children 
 would be too much of a burden for them to take along in the 
 deep snow. The savages destroyed everything valuable in and 
 about the house, even cutting open the feather-beds and scattering 
 their contents over the floor, and carrying away everything eatable 
 
 VOL. IV. 4* AG 
 
82 AUNT BECKY. 
 
 which they could find. After they had left with their captives, it 
 being just at evening, the mother took her two daughters and a 
 peck of corn, which had escaped the eyes of the enemy, and made 
 her way to the nearest neighbor, some two miles distant, where 
 they spent the night. The next morning they started on foot, with 
 their peck of corn for provisions, to return to Connecticut. It was 
 a long, weary journey through the snow and mud. The mother 
 dealt out the corn by small quantities, lest it should fail them be- 
 fore they reached Stamford. x\t last, the kernels of corn were 
 counted to each one, as her ration. But the Lord preserved the 
 disconsolate mother and her two daughters to reach the home 
 of her father, where they met with a warm reception, and once 
 more had food enough to satisfy the demands of their craving ap- 
 petites. 
 
 But my young readers are ready to ask. What became of the 
 captives ? Well, after traveling through the deep snow for many a 
 weary mile in the dark woods, and being compelled to keep up 
 with the Indians on their snow-shoes, tlie father, being somewhat 
 advanced in life, and worn out with hard labor, began to lag be- 
 hind. The Indians held a consultation in their own lano-uajre, 
 after which two of them bade the old man follow them. These 
 turned oft' from the path in which the party were traveling, while 
 the rest went forward. After an hour or more, the two Indians 
 who had taken the old gentleman aside, returned to the main path, 
 and joined their company. But the old gentleman was never seen 
 afterwards ; and there was unmistakable evidence that he had 
 been murdered, for when those two Indians returned, they were 
 clad in his clothing, and one of them had a fresh scalp, which the 
 sons recognized, from some peculiar curls on it, as that of their 
 poor father. After being with the Indians a few days, two of the 
 boys contrived to get away while their enemies were asleep, and 
 returned to Connecticut ; but one or two of the others never 
 came back. Descendants of several of the sons of this murdered 
 patriarch are still living, two of whom are now celebrated ship- 
 builders in the citv of New York. e. d. k. 
 
THE DAISY AND THE EAR OF WHEAT. 
 
 83 
 
 THE DAISY AND THE EAR OF WHEAT. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH, BY LAURA LOVELL. 
 
 AM fond of flowers, those smiles of Nature ; but I do 
 not devote my garden entirely to them. Besides the 
 grass-plats, which, after having served as a carpet for 
 my walks, supply with hay the lofts of my stable ; be- 
 sides the trees which give by turns the shade of their foliage 
 to my head and the juice of their fruits to my palate, I re- 
 serve, every year, a little corner of my enclosure for a wheat 
 field. 
 
 " What barbarity !" you say ; " you disfigure your garden !" 
 Listen to me, if you please, before you condemn. 
 And first, I reply to you that there is nothing ugly in a field 
 of wheat. In the spring, it is emerald ; in summer, it is gold. One 
 of my neighbors, who knows what he is about, has in his fine 
 park a field of oats bordered with geraniums, which forms a splen- 
 did and varied picture. 
 
 But in mine, the wheat is separate from the flowers, and con- 
 cealed by a quick- set hedge. It cannot, therefore, disfigure my 
 garden. On the contrary, I insist that it honors it, and I found 
 my assertions on an incident of my childhood which is sacred to 
 me, a simple story which has nothing scientific about it. 
 
 I was walking with my father in his garden, the very one I am 
 now cultivating. In the spot where the wheat-field now is, there 
 was a simple blade of wheat, a poor child of Mara which had scat- 
 tered the grain there beside a bed of daisies. 
 
 I thought the neighborhood of the wheat interfered with the 
 beauty of the flower-bed, and I was about to have torn it up by the 
 roots, when my father arrested my hand. 
 
 " We should look twice," said he, '' before we destroy a work of 
 God, however little and modest it may be. Who knows what Avill 
 
84 THE DAISY AND THE EAR OF WHEAT. 
 
 become of this ? Let it live beside the daisies. We will watch 
 them and compare their destinies." 
 
 As my father finished these words, two children passed on the 
 other side of the hedge. They were the daughters of a neighbor- 
 ing farmer ; the one a lively, active brunette, with black and 
 sparkling eyes ; the other a pale blonde, with blue eyes, and a 
 gentle, reflecting air. I remember their names. The first w^as 
 called Marie, the second Louise. 
 
 Marie exclaimed : 
 
 " What beautiful daisies ! Will you please to give me one, 
 sir ?" 
 
 My father beckoned to me. I chose the largest and finest 
 flower and presented it to the young girl, who placed it coquettishly 
 in her hair. 
 
 My father, then, observing her sister, asked if she did not wish a 
 flower also. 
 
 The only reply of Louise was to look blushingly at the blade of 
 wheat which was so proudly raising its head, already giving prom- 
 ise of a future harvest. 
 
 " I thank you, sir," said she at last ; " I will ask you for this 
 beautiful ear of wheat, when it shall be entirely ripe. It shall be 
 my first harvest." 
 
 Struck with these words, my father replied : 
 
 " Very well, little one ! you may depend upon your wheat." 
 
 When the two children repassed in the evening, the daisy had 
 already faded on the head of Marie, who had forgotten all about 
 it, and played all day. Louise, laden with a bundle of grass, raised 
 her pretty face over the hedge, and cast a hopeful glance at her 
 flourishing wheat-ear. 
 
 " Remember these little girls," said my father, gravely. " I sus- 
 pect they each resemble the different objects of their desires." 
 
 Then he told me the history of the daisy and the wheat. 
 
 In fields and in gardens the daisy is the same ; pretty, coquet- 
 tish, useless. That which is called the paquerette springs up among 
 the short grass, starring it with its golden buds and white diadem. 
 That which takes the name of the queen of the meadows grows 
 taller, and looks down upon all around it. But when the sickle 
 
THE DAISY AND THE EAR OF WHEAT. 85 
 
 of the reaper lays it low, it gives to the earth only a poisonous 
 seed, and to the teeth of animals a detestable forage. Finally, 
 that which enamels our flower-beds has but its beauty of a day, 
 and affords to man neither perfume nor fruit. 
 
 Tlie history of wheat, on the contrary, is that of civilization itself. 
 It springs up with it, is developed by it, accompanies its progress, 
 and dies only in the latitudes where it expires. This is the most 
 admirable harmony of Nature. 
 
 On the days following Marie continued to ask for daisies, deco- 
 rate herself with them for an hour, and lose them amid her sports. 
 
 When the wheat was ripe, Louise came to gather it and carefully 
 convey it away. 
 
 On this day there was a village fete. Marie passed the hours 
 in dancing, with her daisy in her hair. Louise gathered her grain, 
 and preserved her harvest. 
 
 Ten years later, notwithstanding my father's injunction, I had 
 forgotten the two sisters. He reminded me of their history with 
 that of the daisy and the ear of wheat. 
 
 Then he took me to the village, and showed me at the window 
 of a cottage surrounded with foliage and flowers, a young girl fin- 
 ishing her toilette, allowing the passers-by to admire her pretty 
 face, her sparkling eyes, and her long black tresses, ornamented 
 with a string of beads and a daisy. 
 
 " It is Marie !" exclaimed I. 
 
 " Yes, it is Marie, always vain and coquettish, like the first flower 
 we gave her. She has spent her idle youth in fetes, and is ex- 
 pecting a husband who will never come, for she has no dowry 
 but the withered daisies from our garden." 
 
 Thence we went into a field of ripe grain, and saw another 
 young girl, of calm and grave beauty, whose dress announced 
 comfort, and who, with her hands resting on the trunk of a tree, 
 was quietly contemplating the golden harvest. 
 
 I i-ecognized Louise, and my father said to me : 
 
 " This harvest is her own, and has sprung, furrow after furrow, 
 and year after year, from the first ear of wheat which she received 
 from us, and which her own labors have multiplied. She has sub- 
 tracted yearly only a portion for the poor, and will obtain her re- 
 
SIGNS. 
 
 ward after the harvest, by espousing the wisest and richest farmer 
 of the neighborhood." 
 
 Was not such a lesson worth a little corner of ground ? and had 
 I not reason for cultivating a wheat-field in my garden — happy 
 if my wheat-ears find as many Louises, as my daisies do Maries ? 
 
 SIGNS. 
 
 Solomon said, many centuries ago : " Even a child is known 
 by his doings, whether his work be pure, and whether it be right." 
 
 Some people seem to think that children have no character at 
 all. On the contrary, an observing eye sees in these young crea- 
 tures the signs of what they are likely to be for life. 
 
 When I see a little boy slow to go to school, and glad of every ex- 
 cuse to neglect his book ; I think it a sign that he will be a dunce. 
 
 When I see a boy in haste to spend every penny as soon as he 
 gets it ; I think it a sign that he will be a spendthrift. 
 
 When I see a boy hoarding up his pennies, and unwilling to part 
 with them for any good purpose ; I think it a sign that he will be a 
 miser. 
 
 When I see a boy or girl always looking out for themselves, and 
 dislike to share good things with others ; I think it a sign that the 
 child will grow up a very selfish person. "^ 
 
 When I see boys and girls often quarreling ; I think it a sign 
 that they will be violent and hateful men and women. 
 
 When I see a little boy willing to take strong di-ink ; I think 
 it a sign that he will be a drunkard. 
 
 When I see a boy smoking or chewing tobacco ; I think it a 
 sign that he will soon be guilty of other filthy habits. 
 
 When I see a boy who never prays : I think it a sign that he 
 will be a profane and profligate man. 
 
 When I see fTchild obedient to its parents ; I think it a sign 
 oi great future blessings from Almiglity God. 
 
 WTien I see a boy fond of the Bible, and well acquainted with 
 it ; I think it a sign that he will be a pious and happy man. 
 
THE ACOEX AND THE MUSHROOM. 87 
 
 THE ACORN AND THE MUSHROOM. 
 
 AN ENGLISH FABLE OX PRIDE OF BIRTH. 
 
 Blown from a high and spreading oak, 
 An Acorn fell, with sudden blow, 
 
 (Making his head ache with the stroke) 
 Upon a Mushroom down below. 
 
 " Sir," said the IMushroom, " when you jump. 
 
 In future be by prudence led ; 
 Do not fall on one quite so plump, 
 
 You very nearly broke my head." 
 
 " Poor empty thing !" the Acorn said, 
 
 "How came you here? on what pretence? 
 
 Don't talk to me about your head, 
 I'm shocked at your impertinence. 
 
 " Hear and respect. Behold in me 
 The noblest offspring of the earth ! 
 
 Fruit of the forest's proudest tree, 
 Ennobled both by fame and birth. 
 
 " With me, such ancestry who trace, 
 
 You little unsubstantial elf! 
 (Growth of a night, mean, low, and base) 
 
 You do not sure compare yourself." 
 
 " Sir," said the Mushroom, " 'tis most true. 
 And therefore you may spare your tongue ; 
 
 So far from claiming rank with you, 
 I really know not whence I sprung. 
 
 " But merit makes the lowly shine 
 More than the proud possessing none ; 
 
 And if you. want a proof of mine, 
 I think that I can give you one. 
 
 " I join the scenes of festive mirth. 
 
 And please all palates when they dine; 
 
 While you with all your pride of birth, 
 Are only fit to feed the swine." 
 
88 DOGS AST) DOe-CAETS. 
 
 DOGS AND DOG-CARTS. 
 
 
 p. ANY of the peasants in the vicinity of Rome are 
 very cruel to their dogs. In pursuing my ram- 
 often saw a fine, noble- 
 looking Newfoundland attached to a cart, and drawing a 
 load almost sufficient for a donkey, while his master was 
 urging him on with a whip. The Italians are a little 
 inclined to indolence ; and many of the poorer classes, who have 
 fruit and vegetables to bring into the city from their little farms 
 outside the walls, and who are not worth enough to purchase a 
 more expensive animal, make their dogs pay roundly botli for their 
 masters' laziness and poverty. I hope I shall be forgiven if I con- 
 fess I more than once got heartily vexed with these Italian peasants 
 for their cruelty in this particular. 
 
 Drawing loads by dog-power is not an uncommon thing in many 
 parts of Europe. Madame Pfeiffer, who has made her name so 
 famous by the publication of her " Voyage Around the World," 
 gives the following account of the use of dogs in Prague : — " I 
 was very much struck with the number of dog-carts which I met 
 during my long walk this morning. They are used to bring milk, 
 vegetables, and other provisions into the city ; and I almost fancied 
 myself transported to Greenland or Lapland, when I saw so many 
 of these animals in harness. Each cart is drawn by three or four 
 dogs. On level ground they can pull a weight of three hundred 
 pounds, the driver lending his assistance over the steep places. 
 The dogs have the additional merit of being very faithful guar- 
 dians, and I would not advise any one to venture too near one of 
 these carts, when they are standing before the beer-house, and their 
 owner is carousing within." 
 
m mm 
 
EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 91 
 
 EDITOEIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 THE CRYSTAL PALACE.' 
 
 Ifter this, when ue talk about the " Crystal Palace," 
 ^< we shall have to tell ivhich crystal palace we mean, 
 whether the American or the British ; for Brother 
 Jonathan, who never likes to be behind the rest of 
 the world a gi-eat while, has now an establishment of this 
 kind which he can call his own. You all know what I 
 mean, doubtless. A crystal palace, for the " exhibition of the in- 
 dustry of all nations," on a plan similar to that in London which 
 created such a sensation all over the civilized world, has been erected 
 in the city of New York, and people not only from every part of 
 the Union, but from all portions of the globe, are flocking to see it, 
 and the interesting objects with which it is filled. This beautiful 
 edifice, which now forms of itself one of the most notable wonders 
 which we have to show in the great Ameiican metropolis, is situ- 
 ated near the distributing reservoir of the Croton water. There 
 could not be a better spot for it on Manhattan island. Omnibuses 
 and railroad cars, in great numbers, run to and from that vicinity 
 and the lower part of the city, almost every minute during the 
 day ; and those of our friends who are here, and who choose to see 
 this great modern temple of enchantment — and I sincerely hope 
 that all will choose to do so — can reach it with very little trouble 
 and expense. It only costs six cents in the omnibuses, and five 
 cents in the railway cars, from the Park to the Crystal Palace. 
 
 Through the politeness of the secretary of the association that 
 originated this great exhibition, I received an invitation to be pres- 
 ent on the occasion of the opening of the palace. I accepted, 
 cheerfully and gratefully. The inauguration, as they called the 
 ceremony of formally opening the exhibition, took place on Thurs- 
 
92 EDirORIAL TABLE TALE. 
 
 day, the 14th day of July. It proved to be a very fine day. The 
 hour appointed for opening* the doors of the building to those 
 who held notes of invitation, was ten o'clock ; but long before that 
 time the city was all astir. I don't know when I have seen such 
 crowds in the streets as there were this morning. The President of 
 the United States, who kindly consented to visit the city for the 
 sole purpose of taking part in the ceremonies of the occasion, was 
 about to arrive ; and a portion of the citizens and strangers were 
 pressing towards the Battery, to get a glimpse of him, and another 
 portion were rushing up town, on foot, in private carriages, and in 
 the omnibuses and cars, to be ready to enter the palace as soon as 
 the doors should be opened. The military, too, were parading in 
 the streets, and thousands were abroad to see them ; for you must 
 know that in our city there is always an almost insane passion to 
 see everything in the shape of a military pageant. Ladies will 
 stand over the curb-stones, broiling in a July sun, for four hours, 
 and make nothing of it, to get a glance for two minutes at fifty 
 men with swords, and bayonets, and a generous display of feathers 
 in the gayest colors. And it is doubtless all well enough ; for it 
 would be H most deplorable waste of industry and money, this fre- 
 quent exhibition of the " pomp and circumstance of war" in our 
 streets, if there were no glad eyes, shaded by pretty bonnets, to see 
 it withal. So I suppose it is well enough, though I never shall 
 cease to marvel that so large a part of the fairer half of our race 
 should make such painful sacrifices therefor. 
 
 But we will' let that pass — the procession, I mean, of course. It 
 is never best to quarrel with a thing, just because you yourself don't 
 happen to take a fancy to it ; and we will leave this not very 
 amiable habit to such great men as Dr. Johnson, who always made 
 it a point to blaze away with all the artillery under his control, at 
 everything under the light of the sun, which did not conform to 
 his standard of taste, or rather, which did not square with his 
 whims and crotchets. We will leave this habit, I say, to Dr. John- 
 son, with whom a fisherman and a fool were synonymous terras, 
 because he had no fondness for fishing, or, possibly, because he had 
 not wit enough to catch a fish. 
 
 The thousands who were doing penance on the curb-stones of 
 
EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 93 
 
 Broadway, those who had the fortitude to remain until about one 
 o'clock, were at last relieved not only by the sight of ordinary sol- 
 diers, but a glimpse of the President of the United States, who 
 rode on horseback, and whose plain, republican dress was so little 
 distinguished, that very few could single him out from others in 
 the procession. May this plainness and simplicity last a million of 
 years. The President had not rode far before a shower came up, 
 and he was pretty thoroughly drenched, so that he had to change 
 his dress before he took his place on the platform of the Crystal 
 Palace. When he entered, there was a perfect tempest of applause. 
 Uncle Frank made his part of the noise, I think ; for he does not 
 dabble much in domestic politics, and has got a habit of showing 
 just as much respect and honor to one President as to another. 
 Every place in this vast edifice, where there was a seat in view of 
 the platform, and even where there was room to stand, was occu- 
 pied at the time when the President took his seat. You cannot 
 imagine how closely the people were packed together. They all 
 seemed to be in good spirits, though. I saw very few exhibitions 
 of ill humor. There were some, as a matter of course. Members 
 of the human family can always be found, among a concourse of 
 some thousands, who are fault-finders by profession, and who make 
 it a point to grumble at all times, and in all circumstances. When 
 they have nobody else to grumble at, they turn around and grum- 
 ble at themselves. Some of these grumblers were present at the 
 opening of the Crystal Palace, and they drove their trade with be- 
 coming industry, though I did not observe that they made much 
 by it, except the pleasure, if it be a pleasure, of getting laughed at 
 by the great mass around them who w^ere good-humored and ripe 
 for a piece of fun. 
 
 The exercises at the inauguration were very imposing. Bishop 
 Wainwright read an appropriate prayer. Mr. Theodore Sedgwick, 
 the President of the association, made an address, mostly directed 
 to the President of the United States ; President Pierce, in his 
 turn, made a brief, but pertinent address ; an ode, written for the 
 occasion, was sung by a select choir, accompanied by an organ ; 
 and Dodworth's inimitable band discoursed music, at different in- 
 tervals, such as one might rationally travel many miles to hear. 
 
94 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 The American Crystal Palace is not as large as that which ex- 
 cited so much admiration in London in 1851. But it is a beauti- 
 ful structure, quite as beautiful, I think, as its mammoth cousin 
 across the water. Like that, it is built mostl}" of iron and glass. 
 It is built in the form of a Greek cross, that is, its nave and tran- 
 sept are equal. The dome which rises from the centre is said to 
 be the finest in America. 
 
 But it was not my intention, when I began to talk to you about 
 the opening of the Crystal Palace, to describe this wonderful edi- 
 fice, much less to attempt to tell you what there is in it. At some 
 future time, when I am more familiar with it and its contents, I 
 shall hope to have another talk with you on the subject. Mean- 
 time, I advise you to go and see it, by all means, if you can. 
 
 FOURTH OF JULY AT TARRYTOWN. 
 
 I have already told you that by walking a few rods from my 
 cosy country home in Tarrytown, you may stand on the identical 
 spot where the lamented Major xVndre was captured. Well, a short 
 time ago some of the inhabitants — our English neighbors would 
 laugh, if I should say citizens — determined they would erect a 
 monument on this spot, to commemorate that sad event, or rather, 
 perhaps, to point out to future generations the exact site of the 
 capture. So on the fourth of July the corner stone of this monu- 
 ment was laid, with appropriate exercises. We had a fine time of 
 it, I assure you. Although the weather was hot enough to roast 
 a chicken — with the help of a little artificial heat — the thing passed 
 off" admirably. You know it is a too common opinion that one 
 cannot be vastly patriotic without getting tolerably drunk. That 
 sentiment, however, seemed not to have been very popular on this 
 occasion. I saw ever so many signs of patriotic feeling, but almost 
 none of patriotic drinking. And, by-the-bye, drunken people are 
 not common " up our way." As a general thing, the descendants 
 of the old Knickerbockers, who abound here, are straight-forward 
 folks, and do not make a practice of describing every possible angle 
 and curve when they walk the streets, as too many people do. 
 Practical geometry they pursue at proper times and in suitable 
 places, I believe, though they endeavor to go at it soberly and 
 
EDITOEIAL TABLE TALK. 95 
 
 rationally. The spirit they bring to bear upon it, in other words, 
 is not of the ardent temperament. Reeling, too, is mostly performed 
 by the fairer portion of the inhabitants, ^Yithin doors, and seldom 
 by men, in the public streets. 
 
 The boy who sent the enigma framed from the words, " Spare 
 the rod and spoil the child," is desired to tell the editor in what 
 chapter of the Proverbs of Solomon he finds the sentence he has 
 employed. When he does so, I shall print his enigma. 
 
 Joseph, of Springfield, Mass. writes to the editor, to say he has 
 answered an enigma, but does not pay his postage. He asks us to 
 excuse him, though. No, sir. We can't do any such thing. 
 There is no excuse for such a breach of courtesy. C. H. Daviess, 
 of Georgetown, Ky. may receive a hint from this notice of Joseph. 
 
 The writer of " Time's Advice, an Allegory," can have his manu- 
 script by calling at the ofiice of the publisher. 
 
 Very fine specimens of drawing and painting were those of two 
 of my little subscribers in Paris, O. which their father was so kind, 
 as to forward to me — very fine indeed, considering the children 
 never had any instruction in drawing. They will be artists some 
 day, I think. 
 
 NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 1. Woodworth^s Wonders of the Insect TFo?-/*.? is just published 
 by 1>. A. Woodworth, and may be had at the ofiice of the Youth's 
 Cabinet, and at all the principal book-stores.' In this volume all 
 manner of stories are told about the insect family generally, and 
 bees and ants especially. I may be permitted to say respecting 
 this book, that it is quite as interesting and attractive as either of 
 the two volumes which preceded it in the series. There are fifty 
 engravings in it, and many of the stories are as fresh as the dew 
 on the grass in the morning. Price TS cents, sent free of postage, 
 to any jycirt of the Union. 
 
 2. Home Life in Germany, by Charles L. Brace, published by 
 
96 EDITOR AL TABE TALK 
 
 Charles Scribner, of this citv. Those who have read Mr. Brace's 
 work on Hungary, which has been some time before the public, 
 hardly need to be told that this volume, exhibiting the domestic 
 and social life of the Germans, is readable and instructive. But 
 in my judgment, the latter will be far more generally read than the 
 former. I like it very much. 
 
 3. Rachel Kell is the title of a duodecimo volume of upwards of 
 300 pages, by the author of " My Mother," a book which my read- 
 ers will remember received a very flattering notice in the Cabinet. 
 Though I have not been able to read this last book through, 
 what I have read in it justifies the opinion that it will please you, 
 and what is more to the point, prove of real benefit. 
 
 4. Young Americans Abroad^ or Vacations in Europe. I know 
 not who is the author of this volume, but the publishers are 
 Messrs. Gould & Lincoln, of Boston. It is a record, in the shape 
 of letters, of a tour in England and some portions of the Continent. 
 A pretty good book. 
 
 5. The Island Home, or the Young Castatvays, is the title of 
 another volume from the same Boston house. Those who are fond 
 of thrilling stories of life both on land and sea, will be pleased with 
 it; and I have little doubt that they will be equally pleased with 
 
 6. Pleasant Pages for Young People, also pubHshed by Messrs. 
 Gould & Lincoln. " Pleasant Pages" ought to please, certainly. 
 This book has numerous illustrations, and is filled with a great 
 variety of entertaining matter. 
 
 v. Novelties of the New World, published as above, and written 
 by Joseph Banvard, who has done so much to amuse and instruct 
 the young by his stories and historical sketches. 
 
 8. A Romance of American History, by the same author, and 
 published by the same house. These books of Mr. Banvard ought 
 to have, and I think will have, a wide circulation in families where 
 there are children of a suitable age to appreciate them. 
 
 9. The Schoolfellow, a monthly magazine published in this city, 
 and edited by W. C. Richards and " Cousin Alice." It belongs to 
 the same category with my own work, and is most admirably con- 
 ducted. If it don't succeed, it will not be because it is undeserving 
 of success. May it have a million of subscribers. 
 
97 
 
 THE PUZZLEE'S DKAWER. 
 
 ANSWER TO RIDDLE NO. I. 
 
 Friend " Willie K" the coat you made me fits admirably, only it pinches 
 a little abovit the right shoulder of my reputation. I am not so often trod- 
 den under foot as you may suppose. I have many true friends to whom 
 even my disfigured face is precious. Nevertheless I thank you for the 
 garment. You meant it for me, didn't you ? Your little friend, 
 
 POSTAGE STAMP. 
 
 answer to riddle : 
 Shadow. 
 Solved by Ebenezer Pearce, of Marietta, 0. 
 
 ANSWER TO charade NO. II. 
 A ladder curtailed is a lad, 
 Beheaded, 'tis an adder ; 
 And J. R. with a heart all glad, 
 Steps firmly np the ladder. 
 
 ANSWER TO riddle NO. III. 
 
 4, 2, 1. 4 divided by 2, equals 2 ; 1 subtracted from 2, leaves 1, which 
 added to 1, produces half of 4. 
 
 Also solved by B. T. of Tallmadge, O. ; Emma H. Case, of Gustavus, 0. 
 
 ANSWER TO SCRIPTURE ANAGRAMS. 
 
 1. Jerusalem. Matt. \f. 1. 3. Esarhaddon. 2 Kings, xix. 7. 
 
 2. Amalekites. 1 Sam. xv. 6. 4. Naomi. Ruth, i. 8. 
 
 Answered by Ebenezer Pearce, of Marietta, O. ; Mary Sexton and H. P. 
 Shepard, of Forestville, N. Y. ; Laban Wells, of Manchester, N. J. ; B. T. 
 of Tallmadge, 0. ; Henry H. Stewart, of Sekonk, Ms. ; J. L. Whiting, of 
 Lowell, 111. 
 
 answer to enigma no. i. 
 
 Blush. 
 
 Solved by Ebenezer Pearce, of Marietta, 0. ; Anna Quackenbush, of 
 Schenectady, N. Y. ; H. H. B. of Bridgeport, Ct; Sarah, of Fonda, N. Y.; 
 Mary Sexton and H. P. Shepard, of Forestville, N. Y. ; Arthur J. Wheeler, 
 Df Detroit, Mich. ; Carrie, of Ann Harbor, Mich. ; Albert H. Todd, of Prince 
 Edward, Va. ; John W. Sproat, of ChilUcothe, 0. ; E. P. Stoddard, of Spen- 
 cerfort, N. Y. ; Lihan, of New Sharon, Me. 
 
 VOL. IV. 5 AG 
 
98 
 
 THE PUZZLER'S DRAWER. 
 
 ANSWER TO ENIGMA NO. II. 
 
 How happy may those children be, 
 
 Each playmate, sister, brother, 
 When with this sentence they agree, 
 
 And all do love each other. 
 
 EBEXEZEB PEARCE. 
 
 The answer was also sent by Anna Quackenbush, of Schenectady, N. Y. ; 
 Arthur J. Wheeler, of Detroit, Mich. 
 
 ANSWER TO THE GEOGRAPHICAL QUESTION. 
 
 The length of day to the one going east is ^| days = 23 hrs. 56 min. 
 3|| sec. The length to the one going west is f| j days = 24 hrs. 3 min. 57^^ 
 sec. The one going east thinks he returns on Saturday, April 2d. The one 
 going west thinks he returns on Thursday, March 31st. 
 
 To the last question I may not give the right answer. If the days of 
 the week in the United States harmonize with Europe, and if Asia har- 
 monizes with Europe as regards the days of the week, then the calculations 
 of the man going east will be correct. He will meet the other man on 
 Friday noon, the other thinking that it is Thursday noon. The man going 
 west will lose the right calculation in crossing the Pacific. a. 
 
 The question was also answered by George A. Weed, of North Canton, 0. 
 
 THE DIAMOND LABYRINTH. 
 
 I told my readers, last month, that I would insert the names of all those 
 who found their way into this labyrioth, provided they forwarded their 
 names in season ; and here they are. Quite a*respectable army, is it not ? 
 
 Jane 0. De Forest, 
 Zilpha M. De Forest, 
 Samuel M. De Forest, 
 James M. Steele, 
 Anna M. Sanford, 
 Fanny Evelyn, 
 Susan M. Hatfield, 
 George S. Morris, 
 Edwin S. Osgood, 
 Sarah E. Osgood, 
 Wilberforce Edgerton, 
 Theophilus B. Smith, 
 Alvaro F. Gibbens, 
 David R Waters, 
 
 A. B. Mason, 
 Howland P. Wells, 
 Anna L. Ely, 
 J. A. Whiting, 
 Arabella J. Tuttle, 
 John A. Pomeroy, 
 Emma H. Case, 
 John M. Taylor, 
 Caroline E. Houser, 
 J. L. Loomis, 
 Cynthia M. Osgood, 
 Ann A. Osgood, 
 R. C. 
 John W, Sproat, 
 
 W. T. Hewit, 
 Alida T. Fitch, 
 Henry H. Stewart, 
 Curtiss N. Hall, 
 " Three Ohio Sisters, 
 George A. Weed, 
 Caroline Putnam, 
 N. C. Underwood, 
 Sally Treat, 
 Ebenezer Pearce, 
 R. E. Ames, 
 K Weed, 
 
 Victoria A. Taylor, 
 Maria T. Worden, 
 
THE PUZZLER'S DRAWER. 
 
 99 
 
 Celina R. Rose, 
 Eineliae S. Rose, 
 Arthur J. Wheeler, 
 Sarah, 
 
 Amelia Carpenter, 
 H. H. B. 
 
 Florence Harger, 
 Mary Harger, 
 Melissa Miner, 
 James R. Johnson, 
 Lvdia 0. Micholson, 
 Charles Bonestell, 
 J. N. Weed, 
 Sarah Jane Putnam, 
 H. A. Barbour, 
 Anna Qnaekenbush, 
 John T. Bell, 
 Columbus C. 
 
 Hannah Hooper, 
 Mattie C. Green, 
 Laban Wells, 
 F. W. Delano, 
 Albert H. Todd, 
 Carrie. 
 
 O. L. Bradley 
 John K. Lathrop, 
 Lucian C. Rose, 
 Lizzie Breneman, 
 A. C. Peck, 
 Mary Sexton, 
 H. H. Shepard, 
 Thomas Q. 
 Alice Harger, 
 Henry A. Castle, 
 Wm. F. Peck, 
 Lizzie Ann C. 
 
 Samuel T. Read, 
 Marcellus K Moxly, 
 William S. Hills, 
 A. E. Wood, 
 Julia M< Wood, 
 Harriet C. Wood, 
 Joshua P. Shaw, 
 W. Douglas, 
 
 A. G. P. Segur, 
 Geo. G. Gorum, 
 
 B. H. Green, 
 Mary Weld, 
 William W. Williams, 
 Ballard P. Smith, 
 William H. Warner, 
 Warren C. Curtess, 
 Birney B. Keeler, 
 
 RIDDLE NO. III. 
 
 I leap, I run, but never walk; 
 I'm 3oft as down, and hard as rock. 
 'Tis said I'm weak ; yet in my wrath 
 Terror and ruin mark my path. 
 I'm lucid, white, I'm green and blue, 
 I have one garb of every hue. 
 I'm heavy, yet as spirits light ; 
 I'm seen, yet oft evade the sight. 
 
 CHARADE NO. III. 
 
 My first is a vehicle. 
 
 My second is what it does. 
 
 My whole is what it carries. 
 
 AMANUENSIS. 
 
 NAMES OF PLACES IN ASIA, ENIGMATICALLY EXPRESSED. 
 
 1. Name for a shrub, and a word meaning wrath. 
 
 2. A sack, and a contraction for father. 
 
 3. A name for money, and a word signifying mother in another language. 
 
 4. A small horse, and an adjective signifying poverty. 
 
 5. A pronoun, and a building for shelter. s. e. Wilson. 
 
100 THE puzzler's DRAWER. 
 
 ENIGMA NO. III. 
 
 I am composed of 22 letters. 
 
 My 5, 7, 13, 9, 6, is a river in Europe. 
 
 My 12, 15, 8, 9, 6, is a river in France. 
 
 My 1, 6, 4, 10, 17, is a great help to tidy houses ivee. 
 
 My 8, 15, 13, 4, is one of the western States. 
 
 My 3, 10, 12, 21, is a place of defence. 
 
 My 2, 19, 1, 6, is a river in Germany. 
 
 My 5, 4, 17 2, is a city in Italy. 
 
 My 19, 22, 10, 9, 14, is a city in France. 
 
 My 14, 21, 19, 4, 11, 13, 14, is a city in Missouri. 
 
 My 7, 16. 12, 8, 9, is a town on lake Erie. 
 
 My 1, 11, 21, 19, 2, 12, is a county in Ohio. 
 
 ENIGMA NO. IV. 
 
 I am a proverb composed of 25 letters which may be divided into 5 equal 
 parts of 6 letters each, all of which, as well as myself, may be found by 
 searching the Scriptures. 
 
 My 1, 19, 16, 3, 8, was a very good person, who did a very bad deed. 
 
 My 5, 24, 18, 21, 11, was a very bad person, who did a very good deed. 
 
 My 10, 23, 6, 4, 20, is the name of two very different characters. 
 
 My 2, 15, 13, 12, 25, is a name more common than either of the above, 
 but was no wiser nor better than my 10, 23, 6, 4, 20. 
 
 Mv 17, 7, 22, 9, 14, are the first five letters of an expression of Christ in 
 performing a certain miracle. 
 
 My whole is a very just comparison. j. w. s. 
 
 REBUS NO. I. 
 
 I am a verb signifying to disfigure. Transpose me, I become a part of 
 the human body. Transpose me again, and I become an animal. 
 
 ALPHA. 
 
 A GEOGRAPHICAL CHARADE. 
 
 My first, a substance found in trees ; 
 
 My second and my first the same ; 
 My third a vowel sometimes is ; 
 
 My whole in Asia has a name. 
 • My first within my whole you'll find. 
 
 Although 'tis not a staple there ; 
 My first and second too combined. 
 
 Within my whole breathes native air. lauea. 
 
THE ENGLISH PEASANT. 
 
 101 
 
 THE ENGLISH PEASANT. 
 
 The peasant of old England is a curious specimen of human na- 
 ture. I shall never forget how intensely this class of the English 
 people interested me in my excursions about the country. I had a 
 good opportunity of studying them, at different times while I was in 
 England, particularly in an excursion on the Isle of Wight. All the 
 way from Ryde — the point on the island at which you land passing 
 over in the ferry-boat from Portsmouth — to Brading, the little vil- 
 lage where the godly Legh Richmond labored, and where is to be 
 seen the humble grave of the " Young Cottager," you encounter 
 the little thatched cottages of these peasants. The island on which 
 they live is their world, almost. They know but little of what is 
 going on fifty miles from them. Yet are they generally a cheej-ful, 
 
102 THE ENGLISH PEASANT. 
 
 happy, contented class of people. Happiness, you know, does not 
 dance attendance on any particular place, and is not inseparably 
 connected with any class of circumstances. I chose to walk from 
 Ryde to Brading. If, when I stepped on board the ferry-boat at 
 Portsmouth, I had formed a contrary determination — and I will 
 not undertake to say at this late day, that such was not the case — 
 I felt quite ashamed to ride when I arrived at the island ; for 
 on board the boat I met a Portsmouth lady and her daughter, 
 bound on a pedestrian tour to the same spot. The English ladies 
 walk a great deal more than we do here in America. It is more 
 than four miles from Ryde to Brading, so that these ladies walked 
 about nine miles in their excursion on the Isle of Wight that 
 day. They had a call to make on the way, a short distance off 
 the main road ; and we agreed to meet in the church -yard at 
 Brading, where they promised to point out to me the retired 
 resting-place of the " Young Cottager." So I pursued my walk 
 alone. It was a beautiful day, and I can hardly remember when I 
 enjoyed myself more in a solitary ramble. The pretty hawthorn 
 hedges, so abundant in every part of England, add greatly to the 
 charms of a walk in the country. You cannot imagine how 
 pretty they are, when they are in blossom, and they fill the air 
 with their sweet odor. How I do wish we had the hawthorn hedge 
 of our fatherland on our own farms. Nearly all the houses are 
 thatched. Most of them are the cottages occupied by those who 
 till the soil. In England, almost all the land is owned by large 
 proprietors, and the soil is cultivated by tenantry, who pay rent to 
 the landlord, either in money or in the produce of the farm. The 
 cottages of the actual farmers are generally plain and simple. It is 
 especially so on the Isle of Wight. The roofs of the cottages are 
 thatched with straw, which gives them a very picturesque appear- 
 ance, especially when, as is often the case, they are half buried in 
 ivy. One of these cottages completely charmed me. I had great 
 difficulty in passing it, so strong was the inclination to go in. I 
 wish you could have seen the outside of the cottage that ftiscin- 
 ated me so perfectly. It was completely embowered in ivy. You 
 could only get a peep of the cottage through the loops of the foli- 
 age around the door and windows. It was just such a cottage as 
 
THE ENGLISH PEASANT. 103 
 
 you have seen sketched by the poets pen, but which you have no 
 doubt thought had no existence except in his imagination. But 
 there it was, for all the world, the identical little fairy cottage so 
 long celebrated in the songs of our fatherland. I am sure I never 
 saw anything in my life that had a more cosy and homelike ap- 
 pearance than this modest dwelling. With a good grace, thought 
 I, can these peasants sing " Home, sweet home." It was the beau 
 ideal of the home pictured in these touching lines : 
 
 *"Mid pleasures and palaces though, vtq may roam, 
 3e it ever so humble, there's no place like home. 
 A charm from the skies seems to hallo^w us there, 
 "Which, seek through the ^^orld, is not met with elsewhere. 
 
 An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain ; 
 Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage again, 
 Where the hirds sing gaily that come at my call — 
 Give me these, with the peace of mind, dearer than all." 
 
 I said I had hard w^ork to get by that cottage, so strongly tempt- 
 ed was I to make some errand, and to go in. However, I did get 
 a rod or two past it. But I turned back again, like the confirmed 
 inebriate, who has been known to succeed in passing a tavern, and 
 in consequence, go back and " treat his resolution." I turned back, 
 and opened the little gate. It was midsummer. The weather was 
 warm. The door of the cottage stood open. The inmates did 
 not wait for me to knock. Seeing me approach, an elderly ma- 
 tron came to meet me, and to show me a seat in the " best room." 
 I called for a glass of water. As quick, almost, as a bird could fly, 
 a little girl — Alice was her name ; I don't mean to forget little 
 Alice — ran off, singing as she ran, to the spring, a few rods from 
 the house. A young woman in the same room was braiding straw 
 for men's hats. She was a young wife, I learned, and the matron 
 I at first encountered was her mother-in-law. Braiding straw, she 
 said, was a common employment of hers. In the most artless 
 manner possible, she told me how much money this labor brought 
 the fiimily. To her it seemed ^ large sum, though I could hardly 
 repress a sigh when she named it, for, compared with the avails of 
 
104 THE ENGLISH PEASANT. 
 
 such labor in our own country, the amount was exceedingly- 
 small. 
 
 There were some half a dozen children at home — the good 
 matron said, with some little pride, I thought, that there were thir- 
 teen " all told," — at the time I called ; and when I told them I 
 was from America, you ought to have seen how widely they open- 
 ed their eyes in wonder. None of the family had ever seen a live 
 American before, " to know him." The mother aforesaid ran out 
 into the field to call Jamie, the husband of the woman braiding 
 straw ; and when she ushered him into the room, she pointed to 
 me, and said, panting for breath, she had run so fast, " There he 
 is, Jamie ; he came all the way from Mcr'ikijy Then followed in- 
 numberable questions about this country — whether it was as good 
 as England for " the like of them" — if it cost much to get across 
 the water — if the lords were good to their tenants — if we had any 
 churches and schools — and about the savages — whether most of 
 the people dressed in skins now, and so on. I enlightened them 
 on these and other points, as well as I was able ; and I do not 
 believe that Desdemona ever listened to the " hair-breadth 'scapes" 
 of the ebony Moor with more interest than these simple-hearted 
 peasants evinced in what I had to say to tliem of the western 
 world. 
 
 I observed a Bible on the little table in the " best room." In 
 reply to ray inquiry if they were able to read this volume, tlie 
 good old lady said, with tears in her eyes, thiit she and her old 
 man had never had any schooling, and that they could only just 
 spell out their letters, but that her children went to school, and 
 that they read aloud in the Bible every day. Her inquiries about 
 our savages seemed to suggest another respecting the idolatrous 
 natives of India. " They do tell of folk," said she, " that lives a 
 long piece oft' — 1 don't justly 'member where — that puts hooks 
 into their backs, and swings in the air in this way ; and that 
 they sometimes lie right down on the ground, and lets a gi-eat 
 cart-wheel run over them. Do you think this is true ?" I told 
 her I had no doubt of it. " Well," she said, " I 'spose it is true. 
 But raly I don't know what to rfake of it. I sets down some- 
 times, and studs, and studs about it, and I wonders why the good 
 
THE ENGLISH PEASANT. 105 
 
 Loi'd made people so ignorant and so bad, it seems so strange !" 
 Poor old woman ! slie was straining- away at one of the toughest 
 of all those roots tliat do so try the patience of the learned doc- 
 tors of divinity. I could hardly help smiling when she broached 
 a toj^ic concerning which books enough have been written to 
 freight a small ship, and which is still quite in the dark. As 
 may be supposed, I did not enter into the discussion of the mat- 
 ter at any great length ; for it is always wise, I think, not to affect 
 a very great amount of wisdom, when one has but a meagre stock 
 of it on hand. 
 
 There was quite an intelligent and sprightly kitten playing its 
 pranks about the room. Observing that I took some notice of 
 this pet of theirs, the good old Avoman, upon my rising to leave, 
 begged I would accept it as a present, and take it to MeriJcij with 
 me for their sakes. " Oh, no," I replied. " I couldn't think of 
 doing such a thing. You set such a store by it, that I know you 
 would miss it very much.-' Still, however, the kind matron urged 
 the little kitten upon me, the rest of the family assuring me that 
 I should be perfectly welcome to it ; and it was only when I told 
 them that I should not know how to carry it to Liverpool — for I 
 think I should have been in a condition somewhat like that of the 
 poor fellow who drew the elephant in a lottery — that they would 
 listen to a denial. I left these peasants at the gate of the cot- 
 tage, the good old mother, in behalf of them all, commending me 
 to God as I bade them farew^ell. 
 
 And so I went on toward Brading, where, as I expected, I found 
 the ladies from Portsmouth. There is a little cottage near the 
 old church, occui>ied by the sexton. In the door of this cottage, 
 these ladies were standing, ready to conduct me to the grave of 
 the " Young Cottager," as they had promised to do. The mistress 
 of this humble dwelling, who was busy with her washing wdien I 
 entered, seemed to have had a little better opportunity of culti- 
 vating an acquaintance with the woi'ld at large, than the one I 
 had seen on the way, though she was equally artless and good- 
 natured. A shower came up soon after I reached the place, in 
 consequence of wliich we were detained an hour or more in this 
 tidy little cottage, during which time I learned a great deal about 
 
106 THE ENGLISH PEASANT, 
 
 Brading from the mistress of the house, who soon left her wash- 
 ing, rolled down her sleeves, and took a seat by our side. 
 
 I lost no time after the shower was over in accompanying my 
 two guides to the grave of the " Young Cottager." The church 
 in the yard of which this modest grave is situated, is the oldest on 
 the island. It has a history of its own worth relating, though, had 
 it no other association of interest to recommend it than that it was 
 once the theatre of the labors of Legh Richmond, it would be dear 
 to every Christian's heart. With feelings little short of reverence, 
 I entered the edifice, and read the inscriptions on the tombs of those 
 whom the world called " noble." But I soon left these ancient 
 monuments of earthly greatness, and followed my friends to the 
 resting-place of one who was little honored by the world, but who 
 is now a princess at the court of heaven. 
 
 A plain monument is that of the " Young Cottager." Any other 
 Avould be out of place. It is a simple slab of marble. It was 
 placed there by her excellent pastor, by Legh Richmond himself. 
 On it are these w^ords : " Sacred to the memory of ' Little Jane,' 
 .who died 30th Jan. 1799, in the 15th year of her age. 
 
 "Ye -who the power of God delight to trace, 
 And mark -with joy each monument of grace. 
 Tread lightly o'er this grave, as ye explore 
 The short and simple annals of the poor. 
 
 A child reposes underneath this sod, 
 A child to memory dear, and dear to God — 
 Rejoice, yet shed the sympathetic tear — 
 Jane, the 'Young Cottager,' lies huried here." 
 
 I did shed a tear over this grave — whether one of sympathy or 
 not I cannot tell. We shed tears, sometimes, when we can hardly 
 determine to what class of feelings to ascribe them. 
 
 While sitting at this gi'ave, one of my companions pointed to a 
 head-stone standing just at the side of the "Young Cottager's," 
 and resembling it in size and general form. " The little girl," said 
 the lady, " whose remains lie beneath this stone, has a history 
 which may interest you." And then she told me the following story : 
 
 Little Anna was the daughter of an oflScer in the army. His 
 regiment was for a time stationed in Portsmouth. During this pe- 
 
THE ENGLISH PEASAKT. 107 
 
 riod, liis family became intimately acquainted with my companions. 
 Little Anna was a devoted and exemplary Christian, and took a 
 great deal of delight in reading the narrative of the " Young Cot- 
 tager." One day she visited Brading with her mother, and they 
 went together to this quiet church-yard, and stood beside the grave 
 of Jane. AVhile here, she was much affected, and said, " Mother, 
 if I should die while we are in Portsmouth, I would like to have 
 you lay me by the side of the ' Young Cottager.' " Her mo.ther 
 smiled, and said she hoped her daughter would live a great while 
 longer than they remained at that station. " But still I may die^ 
 mother," said the little girl, " and if I should, may I come and lie 
 down here ?" Her mother, seeing how much in earnest she was, 
 said " yes." At that time little Anna was well. But in less than six 
 months' time, she was taken ill and died — and they buried her here, 
 according to her request, close by the side of the " Young Cottager." 
 
 I visited the house where the " Young Cottager" lived and died. 
 It was one of the j^hiinest in Brading, with a roof thatched Hke the 
 one I have already described. It was occupied by a family who 
 seemed to have a great veneration for little Jane, and they volun- 
 tarily and cheerfully showed us every part of the old mansion. 
 
 After this, I walked back to Ryde in company with my two 
 fj'iends, stopping on the way at the cottages of several of the peas- 
 antry, and extending my acquaintance with this class of people. 
 
 But it is time to bring my rough sketch of the English peasantry 
 to a close. I cannot do so, however, without quoting a paragraph 
 from one who has had a much better opportunity to judge of this 
 branch of the human family, than I have. He says : " The Eng- 
 lish peasant is the rough block of English character. Hew him 
 out of the quarry of ignorance ; dig him out of the slough of 
 everlasting labor ; chisel him, and ])olish him ; and he will come 
 out whatever you please. Pie has wit enough when it is wanted ; 
 he can be merry enough when there is occasion ; he is ready for a 
 fight wdien his blood is well up, and he will take to his books if 
 you will giv^e him a schoolmaster. He will learn to wear silk 
 stockings, scarlet plush breeches, collarless coats, with silver but- 
 tons, an<.l swing open a gate with grace, or stand behind anybody's 
 carriage with his wand as smoothly impudent as any of the tribe 
 
108 THE ENGLISH PEASANT. 
 
 of footmen. Or he will clerk it with a pen behind his ear, or 
 mount a pulpit, if you will give him a chance. But keep him 
 down, and don't press him too hard ; feed him pretty w^ell, and 
 give him plenty of work, and he will drudge on to the day of his 
 death. Let us look now at his dress. First comes the blue slop 
 called the Newark frock. A man would not think himself a man, 
 if he had not one of those slops, which are the first thing that he 
 sees at a market or a fair, hung aloft at the end of a slop-vender's 
 stall, on a crossed pole, and waving about like a scarecrow in the 
 wind. Under this he generally wears a coarse blue jacket, a red 
 or yellow shag waistcoat, stout blue worsted stockings, tall laced 
 ankle-boots, and corduroy breeches, or trousers. A red handker- 
 chief around his neck is his delight, with two good long ends 
 dangling in front. In many other parts of the country he wears 
 no slop at all, but a corduroy or fustian jacket, with capacious 
 pockets and buttons of giant size. This is his every-day style — but 
 on a Sunday or holyday, when he turns out to church, wake, or 
 fair, if he has not his best slop on, which has never yet been defiled 
 by touch of labor, he is conspicuous in his blue, brown, or olive- 
 green coat and waistcoat of glaring color — scarlet — or blue or green 
 striped — but it must be sliowy; and a pair of trousers generally 
 blue, with a width nearly as ample as a sailor's, and not only guilt- 
 less of the foppery of being strapped down, but, if he find the road 
 rather dirty or the grass dewy, they are turned up three or four 
 inches at the bottom, so as to show the lining. On these days he 
 has a hat of modern shape, that has very lately cost him four-and- 
 sixpence, and if he fancies himself rather handsome, or stands well 
 witli the women, he cocks it a little on one side, and wears it with 
 a knowing air. He wears the collar of his coarse shirt up on a 
 holyday, and his flaming handkerchief round his neck puts forth 
 dangling ends of an extra length, like streamers. The most 
 troublesome business of a full-dress day, is to know what to do with 
 his hands. He is dreadfully at loss where to put them. On other 
 days they have plenty of occupation, but to-day they are miserably 
 sensible of a vacuum. They are sometimes diving into his coat 
 pocket, sometimes into his trousers' pocket, and at others into !■ is 
 waistcoat pocket. The great remedy for this inconvenience is % 
 
FEIGNIXG DEATH. 109 
 
 stick or switch ; and in the corner of his cottage, between the 
 clock-case and the wall, you commonly see a stick of a description 
 that indicates its owner. It is an ash-plant ; or a thick hazel ; or 
 it is a switch that is famous for cutting off the heads of thistles, 
 daises, or nettles, as he goes along." 
 
 FEIGNIlS^a DEATH. 
 
 Most j^ersons, we imagine, have been amused at the perfect way 
 in which the Dor Beetle feigns death on being captured ; there it 
 lies, stiff and rigid. " Poor thing !" says the unsuspicious traveler, 
 " I did not mean to hurt it ; but this blundering and buzzing about 
 one's eyes and ears was intolerable. I only just struck it down with my 
 handkei'chief, and see, now it is dead." He drops it again on the 
 grass, from whence he has picked it up, and passes on with a sigh, 
 to think that he has put a stop to one happy existence. Scarcely 
 is he a yard from the spot, before the rigid spiny legs become lim- 
 ber, the motionless shards are expanded, and out come the filmy 
 wings, and the late seemingly dead insect is blundering and droning 
 away as actively as ever. " Ca-aw, ca-aw," comes along a home- 
 ward bound crow, flying low, to see if he can pick up a choice mor- 
 sel for supper. Alas, for the pooi* Dor Beetle ! he'll soon be as dead 
 as mutton ; and dead he is, sure enough, killed with fright, one 
 would think. Down he drops, and down, too, comes the crow, eyes 
 him for a moment with head on one side, in contemplative attitude, 
 turns him over, to see if the creature is really lifeless, and then sat- 
 isfied with the scrutiny, spreads out his sable wings, and sails away 
 supperless, preferring rather to do this than to feast upon an insect 
 which he has not had the pleasure of first killing. Up again 
 springs the cunning (not the dull) beetle, as Gisborne calls it, 
 
 " That ever and anon smites us -with sudden strode. 
 Stopping at once its heavy hum." 
 
 And thus ends an " Episode of Insect life," which " Acheta Domes- 
 tica" has neglected to write ; more's the pity, for no one else could 
 write it so well, 
 
110 
 
 ALICE CAREY^S PET DOVES. 
 
 
 ALICE CAREY'S PET DOVES. 
 
 When I was a little girl (says Alice Carey) I was very anxious 
 to have a bird of my own, to make a }>et of and to play with. 
 
 In the spring' I could gather very pretty wild blossoms in the 
 woods, but they faded in the hot summer sun, and in the autumn 
 withered and died, and I wanted something that I cx)uld love and 
 keep all the year. Once or twice Ihad been in a great city, and 
 seen birds in wire cages, that hung at the doors and windows, and 
 I thouo-ht if I could have a cashed bird it would be a wonderfully 
 pleasant thing. Many times I went to the woods in the hope of 
 catching a bird — but the dear little creatures always discovered 
 me, walk lightly as T would, and flew away before T came within 
 reach. 
 
ALICE Carey's pet doves. Ill 
 
 Bright red and yellow birds there were, swinging gaily on the 
 limbs, lithe and lofty, and these were especially attractive to me; 
 but they only mocked me with their beauty, for they were more 
 shy and lodged higher in the trees than those of duller plumage. 
 How they whistled and twittered away up -in the tree-tops. Little 
 brown creatm'es hopped along before me sometimes, but when I 
 reached for them, they were gone. And plump quails, in flocks 
 of a dozen, ran along the meadows very tamely, but when I came 
 close upon them, up they flew with a whirr that made my heart 
 beat fast for half an hour. And so, all my expedients failed. 
 
 But I still thought that by some lucky chance one might fall 
 into my hands — that probably I might find a nest containing 
 young ones ; and pleasing myself with such hopes, I gathered the 
 branches of the willow and wove them into a cage. This cost me 
 much time and trouble — the task proving too difiicult for such 
 simple ingenuity as I was master of — but at last my design found 
 a rude sort of execution, and I resolved to confide my plans and 
 wishes to my mother, of whose ability to accomplish my aims I 
 had not the least doubt. 
 
 A sad disappointment it Mas, when she told me it would be 
 cruel to catch a free wild bird, that loved the air and the sunshine, 
 and to sing, among its mates high up in the tree-tops, and confine 
 it in a little close prison alone, where it could get no food that it 
 liked, and never see its mates any more. I hung away the cage. 
 I could not bear to destroy it, for I felt that wdiile that was in ex- 
 istence, I had hope of some time obtaining my prize. 
 
 One day, while playing in the barn, I discovered a dove's nest, 
 but so high, that I at first despaired of reaching it. But we gen- 
 erally find the means, when in earnest about a thing, and it 
 rarely liappens that the bending of all our energies to any point, 
 meets with a total defeat. A plan soon suggested itself, which I 
 at once adopted, tliat of heaping together the sheaves of oats di- 
 rectly beneath the nest. This was a tedious work, for they often 
 fell down, and I was forced to build my fabric anew many times. 
 At last, by standing on tiptoe, my hand could just reach the beam 
 where the nest was. Away flew the mother-bird, and the next 
 moment I held one of her young ones in my hand, and presently 
 
112 ALICE CAKEY'S pet DOVES. 
 
 anotlier. ^\'liat featherless, gaping little things they were ! I was 
 half inclined to replace them, both from compunction and because 
 of their ugliness ; but we do not like willingly to let go a bird 
 once in the hand, and after a little hesitancy, I climbed down with 
 the young doves in my apron. A nice warm nest I made, and 
 supposed I could take better care of them than the mother-bird, 
 but I think now I was mistaken. Much trouble they gave me in 
 learning to eat, and for some days I forcibly opened their mouths 
 and obliged them to take food. They did not seem to flourish 
 or grow, and I was quite discouraged for a time ; but in the 
 course of a few months they learned to peck from my hand, and 
 would fly all about the house, often alighting on my head or 
 shoulder. 
 
 Most beautiful birds they were become, and my long-cherished 
 dream was realized. How glad they were when I came from 
 school at night, and opening their cage, fed them from my hand, 
 and then suflTered them to fly about as they would. Sometimes, as 
 they grew older, they would fly away to the barn, and sit on the 
 eaves for awhile, with the wild doves, as we called them. But at 
 night they were sure to return. I remember precisely how they 
 looked — not alike, for one was a beautiful soft brown, and the 
 other black and white. One evening I came home later than 
 usual — it was almost twilight — and when I opened the cage they 
 seemed in ecstasy. I sat down on the porch to feed them, but 
 they would scarcely eat for flying hither and thither, now right 
 against my face, now alighting on my head, and now on my 
 shoulder. Suddenly, as I played with them, tossing them away 
 from my hands and head, one of them, the black one, darted aside 
 and hid in the foliage of an oak tree that grew in the yard. 
 There was a rustling of the leaves, a quick cry, and my beautiful 
 pet fell whirling and fluttering to the ground. I ran and caught 
 it up — its bosom was speckled with blood, its wings fell loosely 
 from its yet warm body ; but before I reached the porch it was 
 dead. An ugly hawk had pounced upon and killed it. I buried 
 it in great sorrow, beneath a cherry-tree that still stands for its 
 monument. But often when I see people go aside from what seems 
 their natural province, I think of my poor dove. 
 
THE TEEE AND THE BARK. 
 
 113 
 
 THE TEEE AND THE BxiEK. 
 
 A FABLE TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH, BV LAURA LOVELL. 
 
 YOUNG elm said to its bark, " You love me, I know, 
 p( and I love you ; but you hold my arms too tiglitly 
 and clasp my neck too closely. Are people to be 
 -ir" made lin]ipy by force ? You are always between the 
 world and myself. I am passionately fond of the dew, 
 and when I have spent whole days in waiting for it, it falls 
 upon you first. Am I a tortoise or a snail, that I should always 
 live in a shell ? A pietty way of showing your love, indeed, to 
 keep me in prison all the time ! I am stifling ; let me go, I pray 
 you !" 
 
 '' Hush ! God punishes the ungrateful by granting their pray- 
 ers," said the bark, redoubling her pressure ; " there is no security 
 without some restraint. Wo to you, if you leave my arms !" As 
 she spoke thus, a child, who was passing, took a fancy to hack the 
 bark with his knife, and while the protectress fell before his strokes, 
 the protected experienced a secret pleasure. Surprise after surprise 
 awaited him. " Mine are the rays of morning," said he ; " mine 
 the showers of heaven, mine the soft breeze. What a happy des- 
 tiny it is to live and die free !" Alas ! he soon changed his tone. 
 Winter came, with its train of frosts and tempests, and amid the 
 general mourning of nature, the bare branches of the half-dead tree 
 were scattered on the ground, and, covered with dust, became the 
 food of worms. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 In creating its defenceless beings, heaven, in order to save them 
 from a host of evils, gives bark to the elms and the protection of 
 parents to infancy. 
 
 V \ 
 
 } 
 
114 
 
 THE OEPHAN'S HOME. 
 
 THE ORPHAN'S HOME. 
 
 " Where shall I find a home ?" 
 
 The little orphan said, 
 As just at eve she turned to mine, 
 
 Her troublous dreaming head. 
 
 " Where shall I find a home f ' 
 She murmured once again, 
 
 As in the stilly midnight watch, 
 She tossed with restless pain. 
 
 " Where shall I find a home ?" 
 We heard her say at dawn, 
 
 And bent to catch another word — 
 Her flutt'ring breath was gone ! 
 
 Poor child ! for many days 
 
 She'd waudorcd through the sleet, 
 Her hands all blue and pinched with 
 cold. 
 
 Benumbed her tiny foet. 
 
 Poor child ! for many days 
 She scarce had tasted bread. 
 
 For who was now to give it her ? 
 Her parents both were dead, 
 
 " Where shall I find a home ?" 
 
 Fell on the passer by ; 
 Oh strange ! that not one heart should 
 melt, 
 
 To heed the orphan's cry. 
 
 While walking yester eve, 
 
 That voice enthrilled mine oar ; 
 
 So sadly pitiful in tone, 
 
 I paused the plaint to hear. 
 
 Yet as I turned, the child 
 Sank helpless on the ground, 
 
 Her pale thin lips essayed in vain 
 To utter forth a sound. 
 
 T gently lifted her. 
 
 And wrapt her fragile form 
 In fur of mine ; for she full long 
 
 Had felt the bitter storm. 
 
 I bore her to my nest ; 
 
 'Twas but a pace or two ; 
 Though but a child myself, it seemed 
 
 I with my burden flew. 
 
 My mother took the charge, 
 
 And laid her on the bed, 
 And then as mother only could, 
 
 Some words of comfort said. 
 
 '• Where is my home T' was asked ; 
 
 " 'Tis where thy parents are ;'' 
 And motlier t<pld her 'twas above, 
 
 Mure high than highest star. 
 
 Ah ! what a beam of hope 
 
 Lit up that lovely face. 
 As mother dearest, soothing spoke 
 
 Of heaven, happy place ! 
 
 Till set of sun, she lay 
 Awake and sweetly calm. 
 
 Then came her last delirament. 
 When vain were words of balm. 
 
 Hot fever raged — sleep came. 
 Yet 'twas a troubled sleep. 
 
 To see both mind and body racked. 
 It would have made you weep. 
 
 " Where shall I find a home ?"' 
 Those words alone she spoke. 
 
 And those but thrice, and then so 
 low. 
 The silence just was broke. 
 
THE BOY THAT WOULDN'T GET MAD. 
 
 115 
 
 Scarce could she live till morn, 
 So feeble was her frame, 
 
 They truly said ; for at the light 
 Went out life's flickering flame. 
 
 They laid her in the shroud ; 
 I gazed on her the while ; 
 
 Sure never e'eu on cherub face 
 Beamed there a sweeter smile. 
 
 That smile, so calm, so pure, 
 From heaven seemed to come, 
 
 As telling us who watched below, 
 She now had found her home. 
 
 THE BOY THAT WOULDN'T GET MAD. 
 
 I oxcE heard an interesting story about two little brothers. 
 One of tbem was ten years old, and the other eight. The old- 
 est boy had, within a few months past, indulged the hope that 
 God had ffiven him a new heart. He thouo-ht he was a Chris- 
 
 O -3) 
 
 tian, that he loved the Lord Jesus Christ. But his little brother 
 did not believe that his heart had been changed. He thought 
 his brother was no more a Christian than he had always been. 
 He said he could not see any ditference. Yet he meant to try him 
 and see ; for, as his brother now appeared more sober than usual, 
 and was more willing to go to meeting than before, he did not 
 feel quite certain that he was not a Christian. 
 
 Now, how do you think this little boy, eight years old, under- 
 took to find out whether his brother was really a Christian ? 
 Why, every time he could get a chance, he would tread on his 
 brother's . toes, kick his heels, or pinch his arms, to see if he 
 wouldn't get mad, as he used to. But his brother bore it all with 
 meekness and good nature, without an angry word or look. This 
 was very dift'erent from what he used to do. He had before 
 always been ready to take re\'enge on the spot for such an abuse. 
 
 The youngest brother was quite sure that he could not do so ; 
 for he knew he would get mad if anybody should treat him so un- 
 kindly. He soon became convinced that his brother was a Chris- 
 tian, and that he was not. He became very anxious about the 
 salvation of his soul, and in a short time he too indulged the 
 hope that God had pardoned his sins, and given him a new heart. 
 
116 
 
 A LESSON FKOM TlIE BEE-HIVE. 
 
 A LESSON FEOM THE BEE-HIYE. 
 
 " Uncle James," said Annie Endicott, as lie walked up to the 
 spot where she was standing, near a range of bee-hives in his gar- 
 den, "do look at these troublesome tlies ! They keep crowding 
 about the hives, and trying to get the honey, and the poor bees 
 have to drive them away every time they go out or in. I wonder 
 they don't get out of patience, and sting them all to death." 
 
 " A bee rarely uses its sting, I believe," said her uncle. " In- 
 deed, I have heard it said that it never does so, unless diiven to 
 the utmost extremity ; for that, so surely as it stings, it dies." 
 
 " Itself, uncle ?" 
 
 " So I have been told. I don't know certainly whether it is true 
 of bees ; but I have often thought it was oipeophr 
 
A SELFISH PRAYER. 117 
 
 " Why, Uncl« -Tames, what do you mean ? People don't sting, 
 do they ?" 
 
 " You are a v<iry fortunate little girl if you have never felt that 
 they do. /have been stung a good many times in my life." 
 
 "Oh! I know now what you mean," said Annie, laughing. 
 " But they didn't die of it, did they ? I never heard of anybody 
 that did." 
 
 " It is the lieart that dies, Annie — a far worse death than that 
 of the body. Let me tell you," he added, as he led her slowly 
 along the path, " how our hearts, full of action and living impulses, 
 are like, as it seems to me, the hives of bees you have been watch- 
 ing. We have within us a crowd of thoughts and feelings, going 
 forth continually into life and action ; and, according to the pur- 
 poses with which tliey go, they come back laden with rich honey 
 to lay up for us, or they wander away idly, and are lost ; or, worse 
 than all, w^e pervert them from a right use, and turn them to the 
 injury of others, like the stinging bees, and then, like the bees, they 
 die. Is it not so, Aiinie ?" 
 
 Annie was thoughtful now ; and, instead of making her usual 
 quick reply, she only looked up gravely in her uncle's face. 
 
 " Every time we indulge a harsh, censorious temper, some gentle 
 aftection, some loving thought we might have had instead dies 
 out wathin us. For ev^ery evil impulse we act out, we lose a good 
 one ; till the little honey-gatherers of the heart, one by one, have 
 perished, and leave us at last, empty and desolate. Let us learn 
 wi^lom of the bee, Annie, to whom God has given an instinct 
 tb?-t tells it, ' So surely as it stings, it dies.' " 
 
 A Queer Prayer. — A little boy had his first pocket-knife, and 
 for several days used it himself, and extended the privilege of the oc- 
 casional use of his treasure to his little playmates. One evening he 
 was kneeling at his mother's knee, saying his customary piayer, 
 which he closed up in these words : — "And j^lease God, give little 
 Jiinmy Bailey a knife of his own, so he won't want to borrow mine 
 all the time." 
 
118 
 
 A MAN BUEIED IN A WELL. 
 
 A MAN BURIED IN A WELL. 
 
 -^^^^ — ,XZ- 
 
 ARLY in September, 183G, as Dufevel, one of the laborers 
 emijloyed in sinking a well at a place near Lyons, in 
 France, was about to descend in order to begin his 
 woi'k, one of his companions called out to him not to go 
 down, as the ground was giving way, and threatened to fall 
 in. Dufavel, however, did not profit by the warning, but 
 exclaiming, "I shall have abundance of time to go down for my 
 basket first," he entered the well, which was sixty-two feet in depth. 
 When about half way down, he heard some large stones falling ; 
 but he nevertheless continued his descent, and reached the bot- 
 tom in safety. After placing two pieces of plank in his basket, 
 he was preparing to reascend, when he suddenly heard a crashing 
 sound above his head, and, looking up, he saw five of the side- 
 supports of the well breaking at once. Greatly alarmed, he shouted 
 for assistance as loudly as he was able ; but the next moment a 
 large mass of the sandy soil fell upon him, i)recluding the possi- 
 bility of his escape. By a singular good fortune, the broken sup- 
 ports fell together in such a manner, that they formed a species 
 of arch over his head, and prevented the sand from pouiing down, 
 which must have smothered him at once. To all appearances, 
 however, he was separated from the rest of the world, and doomed 
 to perish by suffocation or famine. He had a wife and child, who 
 now came into his mind ; and the thought of them made him 
 feel still more bitterly his imprudent obstinacy in descending into 
 the well, after beino; warned of the danwr to which he was ex- 
 posing himself. 
 
 But although Dufavel regretted the past, and feared for the fu- 
 ture, he did not give way to despair. Calm and self-possessed, he 
 raised his heart in prayer to God, and adopted eveiy^ precaution 
 in his power to prolong his life. His basket was fastened to the 
 cord by which he had descended ; and when his comrades above 
 
A MAN BUfllED IN A WELL. 119 
 
 began to pull tlie rope, in the hope of drawing- him to the surface, 
 he observed that, in their vain efforts, they were causing his bas- 
 ket to strike against the broken planks above him, in such a man- 
 ner as to bring downi stones and other things. He therefore cut 
 the rope with his knife — which he had no sooner done, than it 
 was drawn up by those at the top of the well ; and, when his 
 friends saw the rope so cut, they knew that he must be alive, and 
 determined to make every exertion to save him. 
 
 The hole made by the passage of this rope through the sand 
 that had fallen in, was of the greatest use to Dufavel : through it 
 he received a supply of fresh air, and after a while, his friends con- 
 trived to convey food to him, and even to speak to him. Of 
 course he was in utter darkness ; but he was enabled, in a curious 
 manner, to keep a reckoning of time. A large fly was shut up 
 Avith him, and kept him company all the time he remained there. 
 When he heard it buzzing about, he knew that it w^as day ; and 
 -when the fly was silent, he knew that it was night. The fly 
 boarded as well as lodged with him ; he was careful as he could 
 be not to interrupt it while taking its share of his meal ; when 
 he touched it, it would fly away, buzzing as if offended, but soon 
 return again. He often said afterwards, that the company of this 
 fly had been a great consolation to him. 
 
 More skilful persons than the poor laborers of the village w^ere 
 soon engaged in the attempt to liberate Dufavel. The municipal 
 authorities of Lyons procured the assistance of a band of military 
 miners, who, under the direction of experienced officers, began to 
 form a subterranean passage, for the purpose of relieving him. 
 Prayers for his safety were daily offered up in the churches of 
 Lyons, and the most intense interest prevailed ; it was found ne- 
 cessary to erect a barricade, and station a guard of soldiers around 
 the scene of the accident, to keep oft" the flocking crowd from the 
 neighborhood, all eager to obtain news, and see what was being- 
 done. 
 
 The cavity at the bottom of the well, over which the Avooden 
 rafters had so providentially formed a sort of roof, w\as at first 
 about seven feet in heisfht ; but owino- to the sand constantlv run- 
 ning through and pressing down the roof from above, by the third 
 
120 A MAN BURIED IN A WELL. 
 
 day the space became so small, that the poor man could no longer 
 stand, or even sit upright, but was crushed upon the ground in a 
 peculiarly painful manner, his legs doubled under him, and his 
 head pressed on one side against his left shoulder. His arms, 
 however, were free, and he used his knife to cut away such parts 
 of the wood-work as particularly incommoded him, and to widen 
 the hole the passage of the rope had made. Through this hole, 
 bj means of a small bottle, sou]) and wine were let down to him, 
 and, after a few days, what was quite as important, a narrow bag 
 to receive and bring to the surface the constantly accumulating 
 sand, which must soon have smothered him, if this means of re- 
 moving it had not been devised, and he had not had strength and 
 energy for such a painful labor as the constantly filling and i-efilling 
 the bag soon became. Of course any pressure from above would 
 have forced in the temporary roof, so that nothing could be at- 
 tempted in the way of removing the mass of sand that had fallen 
 in. They dared not to touch the surface above, but they con- 
 trived, by means of a tube, to speak to him. A cousin of his, 
 himself a well-digger, was let down for this pur]>ose. This man 
 spoke to Dufavel, and assured him the miners were making pro- 
 gress, and would soon reach him : he inquired after his wife and 
 child, and charged his cousin to toll her for him, to be of good 
 cheer, and not lose heart. At this time he had been a week in the 
 well. 
 
 Day succeeded day, and still the expectations of the miners 
 were deceived. They worked night and day ; but such was the 
 treacherous nature of the soil, that neither pickaxe nor shovel 
 could be used : the foremost miner worked upon his knees, in- 
 serting cautiously a flat piece of wood into the ground, and after- 
 ward gathering up with his hands, and passing to those behind 
 him, the sand which he thus disturbed. On the twelfth day of his 
 imprisonment, they calculated they were only twelve inches from 
 him, and yet it took them two days longer before they were able 
 to reach him. Every minute the ground was giving way, and it 
 sometimes took them many hours to repair the damage that a 
 single moment had produced. Besides, they felt it necessary to 
 proceed with the utmost caution, when they approached Dufavel ; 
 
 •.#* 
 
EXTfiAOPvDIXAEY MEMORl'. 121 
 
 for there was great reason to fear, Avhenever an opening was made 
 the mass of sand above bis bead would fall down and suffocate 
 bira. At lengtb, about two o'clock in the morning of Friday, 
 September 16tb, they made a small opening into the well, just 
 above bis shoulders. The poor man shouted for joy, and was 
 able with bis knife to assist in extricating himself. He was care- 
 fully conveyed along the horizontal gallery, and wrapped in blan- 
 kets before he was drawn up into the open air. Several medical 
 men were in attendance, and one of them had him conveyed to his 
 house, and put to bed. 
 
 In the evening, he was so well, that the doctor consented to his 
 being conveyed to his own home; and he was accordingly trans- 
 ported thither in a litter, attended by a great concourse of happy 
 and thankful spectators. 
 
 EXTEAOEDINAKY MEMORY. 
 
 Seneca says of himself, that by the mere eflbrts of his natural 
 memory, he was able to repeat 2,000 words upon once hearing them, 
 each in its order, though they had no dependence or connection 
 upon each other. After which, he mentioned a friend of his, Por- 
 tias Latro, who retained in his memory all the declamations he had 
 ever spoken, and never found his memory fail him, even in a single 
 word. He also mentions Cyneas, ambassador to the Romans from 
 King Pyrrhus, who in one day had so well learned the names of his 
 spectators, that the next day he saluted the whole senate, and all 
 the populace assembled, each by his name. Pliny says that Cyrus 
 knew every soldier in his army by name ; and L. Scipio, all the 
 people of Rome. Herr von Xieublin, the celebrated German scholar, 
 was once a clerk in the bank of Copenhagen. In that capacity he 
 gave proof of the miraculous power of his memory, by restoring, 
 from recollection alone, the whole contents of a leaf in the bank 
 ledger, which had been lost by fraud or accident. 
 
 VOL. IV. 6 SR 
 
122 
 
 THE YOUNG WOOD-GATHEKEES. 
 
 THE YOUNG WOOD-GATHERERS. 
 
 Iff 
 
 NE cold day in the month of December, 1829, two. 
 poor children, thin and pale, half clad in rags, 
 issued from a cottage situated on the vei-ge of 
 the forest of Sancy, in France. The trees were all strip-, 
 ped of their leaves ; the wind blew with fury. It was 
 ' only seven in the morning, scarcely day-break. 
 Nicholas and Frank, the two poor little wood-gatherers, walked 
 rapidly toward the centre of the forest. Their feet were ill pro- 
 tected by the old shoes they wore. Coarse linen trousers, a blouse, 
 ^d a bonnet of rabbit-skin, completed their attire. ^ 
 
 When they had walked a considerable distance, they stopped at 
 a place where several roads met. '* Stop Frank," said Nichohis ; 
 "take this rope, and bind up in it as much dead wood as you 
 can gather together." 
 " Yes, brother." 
 
 " When you have gathered enough, you can meet me at the 
 entrance to the forest." 
 
 The two brothers then separated, and took dift'erent roads. 
 They had soon gathered sticks enough to make a hea\'y load 
 apiece. Bending under their several burdens, they shortly after 
 met at the place appointed. 
 
 " Come on, Nicholas," said Frank ; " let us make haste ; for 
 while we loiter here, mother is sufiering from the cold." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! the wind blows from all sides of the hut, and the 
 snow falls on the straw where we slept last night." 
 
 " Ah ! httle robbers ! I have caught you again !" suddenly 
 shouted a rough voice close at hand. 
 
 The two boys, frightened, let their loads fall from oflf their 
 backs, and threw themselves at the feet of a man who now pre- 
 
THE WOOD-GATHKREKS. 
 
"^ 
 
THE YOUNG WOOD-GATHERERS. 125 
 
 sented himself. He was a stiff, gruff-looking fellow, of repulsive 
 voice and manner ; and he fixed his eyes on the two trembling 
 boys, with a fierce expression. He was dressed as a game-keeper, 
 and carried a gun under his arm. 
 
 " Little good-for-naughts !" said he ; " isn't this the second 
 time I have caught you ?" 
 
 " Pardon, pardon, Mr. Sylvester," cried the two boys, weeping. 
 
 " Ah ! do you suppose you are to be allowed to rob the mar- 
 quis of his wood in this way ? But we shall see — we shall 
 see !" 
 
 " But it is dead wood ; and when it isn't gathered, it only rots 
 apon the ground, and it is of no use to anybody." 
 
 " Come, come, Mr. Logician, take up your plunder, and follow 
 me." ' 
 
 " Follow you ? and— where ?" 
 
 " To prison, little miscreants !" 
 
 " To prison ? O good sir ! in pity spare us I" 
 
 " No, I tell you." 
 
 " But our mother may die of cold. She has only us in the 
 world to help her ; and, if you put us in prison, what will she 
 do?" 
 
 " It's all the same to me." 
 
 " Oh ! you have neither heart nor soul in you," said one of 
 ihe bovs, almost desperate ; " well may they call you Sylvester 
 the Woip 
 
 " Good ! good ! I perform my duty, and don't bother myself 
 about anything else." 
 
 " Listen, Mr. Sylvester," said Nicholas ; " I am bigger and 
 stronger than my brother, and I gathered more of the dead wood 
 than he did ; I am, therefore, more guilty : well, punish me as 
 you will ; punish me for both of us, but send my brother back to 
 the cott<ige." 
 
 " Nay, listen to me, good sir," cried Frank ; " it is I whom you 
 must put in prison. Nicholas is stronger than I, and his labor 
 is more useful to our mother." 
 
 " Come, no more talking," said Sylvester ; " you needn't be jeal- 
 ous — you must both go." 
 
126 THE YOUNG WOOD-GATHERERS. 
 
 " M}'^ poor mother," said Frank, sobbing. 
 
 The two boys took up their burdens, and followed the heartless 
 gamekeeper. As they passed before the chateau of the marquis, 
 Nicholas said to Sylvester, " Before going to prison, I wish to see 
 the marquis himself." 
 
 " In good time," said Sylvester ; " here he comes." 
 
 In fact, the Marquis de Sancy was advancing to meet them. 
 He was a man of about sixty, of good figure, a noble-looking gen- 
 tleman. His white hairs fell about his cheeks ; and his blue 
 eyes, full of sweetness and kindly expression, inspired confidence 
 in those who looked him in the face. 
 
 " Well, Sylvester," said the marquis ; " what are you going to 
 do with these children ?" 
 
 " My lord, they are little robbers, whom I have caught for the 
 second time stealing wood." 
 
 The two brothers stood crying bitterly. 
 
 " You know this wood does not belong to you," said the mar- 
 quis. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Frank. 
 
 " Then you are very blamable indeed ; for, when you have been 
 already forbidden to take it, you ought not to have done so." 
 
 " We must then have lain down and died of cold," said Nicho- 
 las, sadly. 
 
 " How, child ! what do you say ?" asked the marquis, with 
 seeming interest. 
 
 " Yes, sir, I shall tell you the truth, and you can judge whether 
 we deserve to be punished or not. Our father was a woodman : 
 kept down by hard work and poverty, he could scaicely provide 
 for his family. One day they brought him home dying. He had 
 been crushed by the fall of a tree which he had felled. After many 
 months of cruel suliering, he died; and Ave were left alone, my 
 brother and I, with my dear mother, who is old and infirm. A 
 poor hut, built on the sod, covered with bark ; a little potato field ; 
 such is all that we possess. In summer, Frank and I split wood 
 in the forest, or we help the peasants with their work : we can 
 thus earn a little money, wdiich helps our mother to live. But in 
 ■winter, sir, ah ! then we are very miserable^ indeed. The snow 
 
 J 
 
THE YOUNG WOOD-GATHERERS. 127 
 
 severs the ground ; the wind shakes our mean Httle dwelhng ; the 
 rain penetrates it everywhere, and freezes on our very clothes. We 
 who are young can bear all that ; but our mother, sir ! our poor 
 [nother ! oh ! when we see her pale, cold, almost perished, trying 
 in vain to keep warm her freezing limbs, our heart is torn, and tears 
 run from our eyes. Then we sally forth to hide our grief: the 
 forest is before us ; the earth is strewn with branches wdiicli the 
 wind has blown down : a few of these useless remnants would 
 ft'arm our mother. Are we to leave her to die, when we can so 
 easily save her ? There, marquis, is the whole truth ; and now 
 say if we are guilty." 
 
 " Yes, my little fellows," replied the marquis, " inasmuch as you 
 bave taken what did not belong to you. But you are good and 
 dutiful children, and it would be a very cruel act indeed to punish 
 pou. Go ; I forgive you. When you are cold, go into the forest 
 ind gather what sticks you want : I permit you. You hear, Syl- 
 i^ester ?" addressing the garae-keeper. 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied he, touching his cap. 
 
 " And now, since these children must be tired with the long 
 svalk you have given them, take a cart, and carry the wood to the 
 2abin of their mother." 
 
 " Oh ! thanks, thanks, good, kind sir ! May heaven protect you 
 for your pity to the unfortunate !" cried the two children, taking 
 leave of their benefactor, with tears in their eyes. 
 
 The winter of 1829-30 was terrible. The cold reached to an ex- 
 traordinary degree, and was exceedingly long continued. The most 
 rapid rivers were covered with ice ; and carriages, no matter what 
 their weight, could pass over them as on a highway. Horses 
 and beasts were frozen to death in their stalls ; men fell lifeless on 
 the hard earth ; wild beasts issued from their lairs, and came into 
 the villages, into the stables, and even into the houses themselves, 
 to allay the Imnger and thirst which tortured them. In short, 
 misery and distress had reached their height. Thanks to the kind- 
 ness of the Marquis de Sancy, his proteges of the forest were en- 
 abled to support the rigors of the season. A little nouse, soudly 
 constructed of stone, replaced the little cabin in which they had 
 before dwelt. The marquis gave them some few articles of furni- 
 
128 THE YOUNG WOOD-GATHERERS. 
 
 ture, added a bit to their field, and thus gave them comparative 
 ease and comfort, in place of misery and despair. 
 
 AVinter continued ; but the little wood-gatherers bore it without 
 complaint. Their mother, seated beside a good fire, could turn 
 her wheel, and spin for the good marquis. In the day-time the 
 boys worked at making hedge, wherewith to enclose their little 
 field ; and in the evening they worked Nvillow baskets, and made 
 cages, which they went to sell on the day following in the neigh- 
 boring town. Sometimes they returnM home late ; and they often 
 trembled with fear at hearing the howling of wolves in the forest. 
 
 One night, when they were on their way home from the town 
 where they had been selling their little wares, as they passed along 
 one of the by-paths of the forest, a cry of distress reached their ear. 
 
 " It is the voice of the marquis !" exclaimed Frank. 
 
 " Let us run this way," cried Nicholas. 
 
 They hastened toward the place from whence they had thought 
 proceeded the voice of their benefactor. They carried in their 
 hands a little sharp hatchet, with which they were wont to cut 
 wood. They always carried it with them on those nights when 
 they were likely to be late in reaching home. 
 
 In a few minutes, they reached a man struggling with a wolf 
 of enormous size. It was indeed their friend the mnrquis. The 
 wolf had thrown itself u}x>n him, torn him with its horrid teeth, 
 and, after a terrible struggle with his adversary, the marquis was 
 on the point of falling its victim. Nicholas rushed at the ferocious 
 brute, and, fetching a blow with his axe, cut ofi* one of his paws. 
 The wolf, furious at his new enemy, turned upon him to avenge 
 his wound. He leaped upon Nicholas. Frank threw liimself 
 on the wolf's back, and bound his arms tight about its neck to 
 strangle it. The wolf fell to the ground, Nicholas under him : his 
 hatchet fell from his hands ; but the marquis, snatching it up, 
 watched his opportunity of striking the beast without wounding the 
 children, and by a well-aimed blow cleft the wolf's head. 
 
 " Ah ! my children," exclaimed the marquis, on recognizing his 
 young defenders ; " it is to you, then, that I owe my life !" 
 
 " Sir, you have had pity on our misfortunes ; you have saved 
 our poor mother's life ; we owe everything to you." 
 
A BAD PRECEDENT. 129 
 
 " You see, Sylvester," observed the marquis to the game-keeper,. 
 Avho ran up at this moment, — " you see how those two noble 
 youths have borne themselves in saving my life. Instead of being 
 harsh and cruel toward the unfortunate, be kind, generous, chari- 
 table ; and bethink yourself always, that, even though you may 
 not do a kindness out of love of virtue, it is well to do it even 
 out of selfish motives ; for we may be indebted for our life and 
 safety to those who are weaker and smaller than ourselves. Even 
 the marquis, you see, may come in the little peasants' way, and 
 owe his life to them, as I do now." 
 
 A BAD PEECEDENT. 
 
 There are a great many rather funny stories told at the ex- 
 pense of the doctors — more, perhaps, than these worthy people 
 deserve. The Portsmouth Journal vouches for the truth of the 
 following. " We once had residing here," the editor says, " a me- 
 chanic of some eminence in Iiis profession, and also of some skill 
 in farriery, so much so that he acquired the title of doctor. Al- 
 though skilled in the diseases of horses, he made no pretensions to 
 cure all the diseases of the human system ; and so an account 
 current was opened with one of our regular physicians of the day, 
 to attend to the medical wants of his family, while he took good 
 care of the diseases of the physician's horses. In time of settle- 
 ment, the physician, after running over the items in the forrier's 
 bill, remarked, ' I don't see any charge for the attendance on 
 that sick colt — you must be more careful of omitting charges." 
 ' sir, that colt died, you know ; so I thought I would make no 
 charge for services.' ' My good man, take your bill, and charge 
 in full. That circumstance should never be brought into con- 
 sideration. Such a precedent would never do for us doctors.' 
 The charge for curing the colt till he died was then made, the bill 
 settled, and a bad precedent prevented." 
 
 VOL. IV. 6* SK 
 
130 
 
 MY PET ANTS. 
 
 ^^^^^S" 
 
 MY PET ANTS. 
 
 I MUST tell you something about a family of ants which I once 
 had under my charge for some months. A family of ants, please 
 to take notice, not aunts. Some of my aunts are worth talking 
 about, doubtless ; but it would be a little out of place, methinks, 
 to speak of them in this volume. 
 
 These ants were captured early in the winter of 1851, and their 
 capture was on this wise : one day my man John, who was sawing 
 and splitting some hickory wood for my study fire, came into my 
 room, cap in hand, and begged me to go with him to the wood- 
 pile, as he had something wonderful to show me. John knew well 
 enough that I am always wide awake when there is anything cu- 
 rious to be seen. He thought I would not need any urging ; and 
 he was right. I hastened to the pile of wood, where I saw a sight 
 worth going miles to see. A great portion of the entire load of 
 wood, though in other respects perfectly sound, was full of chan- 
 nels, and bored lengthwise of the tree, and hundreds, perhaps I may 
 say thousands, of large black ants were packed away in these 
 channels. Strange as it may seem to you, these creatures had 
 bored the holes in the wood with their forceps. Some of the 
 
MY PET ANTS. 131 
 
 channels ran in nearly a straight direction, two or three feet in 
 length. I need hardly tell you that the ants were in a torpid 
 state. They were not dead, though they seemed lifeless. They 
 were enjoying their winters nap ; for ants you know, in our lati- 
 tudes at least, are only active during the warm months. At the 
 approach of cold weather, they go into a dormant or torpid state, 
 in which, if they are let alone, they remain until they feel the warm 
 heat of spring. It was a pity to disturb such a quiet slumber, was 
 it not ? However, there was no helping the matter, and I am not 
 perfectly sure but I secretly rejoiced that these black ants had acci- 
 dentally been thrown in my way, at such an interesting epoch in 
 their history. At all events, I determined to profit by the acci- 
 dent, to capture the ants, to give them a home in my study, and to 
 make them pay for their board and lodg-ing, by such exhibitions of 
 their skill as they chose to afford. As the wood was sawed and 
 split, great numbers of these sleepy fellows were turned out of their 
 snug winter quarters, and scattered on the side-walk. I gathered 
 up a handful of them, and carried thera into my room. I did not 
 stop to count them ; but I presume there were as many as fifty or 
 sixty. I knew very well, that unless I shut them up, they would 
 soon feel the heat of the stove, and be running merrily about the 
 room. So I put them into a large, wide-mouthed bottle, so clear 
 that I could easily see through it, and watch all their motions. It 
 was about an hour, as nearly as I can recollect, before they waked 
 up, and showed signs of activity. When they found themselves 
 actually in the land of the living again, they behaved something 
 as I should think a cat w^ould behave, when suddenly and unexpect- 
 edly transported to a strange garret. You have read Washington 
 Irving's story of Rip Van Winkle, haven't you ? That chap, ac- 
 cording to his historian (who, it is to be presumed, indulges 
 in a little romance in making up his story ; but let that 
 pass,) slept a good many years, and when at last he rubbed 
 his eyes open again, he found, as might be expected, every- 
 thing strange around him. In this respect, if in no other, my 
 ants' condition very much resembled that of Rip Van Winkle. 
 Whether they really were astonished at the plight in which they 
 found themselves, like Washington Irving's hero, I cannot tell. 
 
132 MY PET ANTS. 
 
 They were certainly, as far as I could discover, quite dumb on the 
 occasion. Whether they were struck dumb with astonishment or 
 otherwise, I leave you to infer. But if I may judge of what was 
 passing in those ants' minds, while they were yawning and getting 
 themselves awake, I should conclude, without hesitation, that their 
 brains were racked by such puzzling thoughts as these : " What 
 does all this mean ? Am I alive or not ? How came I here ? 
 Where was I last ? Where am I now ? Didn't I go to sleep in 
 the heart of a tall hickory tree ? and do you call this the heart of 
 a hickory tree ? Is it spring ? If it is, I must have had a miser- 
 ably short nap. If it is not, then how came I to wake up ? Who 
 knows ? Why am I cooped up here, in this style ? Why, I can't 
 get out. I can see out plainly enough ; but when I try to go out, 
 that is quite another matter. Well, well ! if this don't beat all the 
 mysteries I ever heard of." 
 
 I soon found that the cage in which I put my ants was an un- 
 comfortable one for them. When I closed the mouth of the 
 bottle — as I was forced to do, or consent to have them run away 
 and leave me — they did not seem to like it at all. So I contrived 
 another house for them — one on a grander scale. I got a large 
 globe glass, such as is used to keep gold fish in, and fitted up that 
 for their home. The way I managed was tiiis : in the first place, 
 I sprinkled some earth in the bottom of the globe ; then I emptied 
 the ants out of the bottle into the globe, and closed the mouth of 
 the globe, so that my prisoners could not escape ; but still so that 
 they could always have a supply of fresh air inside. Next, I filled 
 the bottle quite full of moist, though not very wet earth, packing it 
 in as closely and firmly as I could. This bottle, thus filled with 
 earth, I placed inside the globe, and laid it down on its side. 
 
 As I supposed, my black friends, after getting together, and re- 
 solving themselves into a committee of ways and means, concluded 
 to dig themselves a new home in the bottle. I would have given 
 a good deal to know whether, at the time they commenced build- 
 ing, they intended to go about their accustomed spring's work, or 
 whether it was simply their intention to provide a good place for 
 another long, cosy nap. But they never told me how that was, 
 and I confess myself, at this moment, profoundly ignorant in re- 
 
MY PET ANTS. 133 
 
 spect to the matter. Of one thing, nevertheless, I am certain : I 
 know that they consulted together, before they proceeded to build 
 their nest. Not only at this time, but often afterwards, I saw them 
 meet together, when, from what they did immediately, as well as 
 from their actions when assembled, I had not the shade of a doubt 
 that they held a council, and conversed with each other, in their 
 way, touching the course to be pursued. I found out that the 
 supposition of Huber in regard to them — that they expressed a 
 great deal by the motion of their antennce^ or horns — is quite true, 
 and that they communicate frequently by means of signs, somewhat 
 after the mode of the deaf mutes belonging to the human family. 
 
 After the parley, they soon went to work in earnest, boring holes 
 in the earth, inside the bottle. You never saw a more industrious 
 company of laborers in your life than these little creatures, while 
 they were at work on their new house. They did not all work, to 
 be sure. The soldiers were, for the most, idle spectators. I noticed 
 that some of them took a part in the excavation once in a great 
 while; but they made bungling work of it; they seemed to be 
 quite out of their place. The workers did not like their inter- 
 ference at all, and often tried to drive them away, when they saw 
 what work they made of digging. 
 
 It took my ants more than a day to fit up a home to their mind. 
 Before the labor was accomplished, they had to carry a great many 
 loads of earth away, as you may suppose. While the workers 
 were digging, the rest of the family were, for the most part, hud- 
 dled together in a knot under the bottle, in the open globe. I no- 
 ticed that the ants did not make their passages straight through the 
 earth in the bottle. They dug them with a good many crooks in 
 them, leading to different chambers. 
 
 I had the globe placed on the table in my study, so that I could 
 watch all the motions of the occupants. Many and many an hour, 
 first and last, I spent in watching them, and all my observations 
 were richly rewarded. I was watching them at the exact moment 
 when the house was pronounced ready to be occupied. The 
 workers came out of the bottle, and went to the spot where the 
 rest of the family were assembled, telling them, I could not doubt, 
 that their task was completed. I said I could not doubt it. How 
 
184 ^lY PET ANTS. 
 
 could I ? In a few minutes after the interview of this delegation, 
 the whole family proceeded to enter the house. 
 
 I have spoken only of the Avorkers and soldiers. There were two 
 or three female ants in the community ; and one of them nil tlie 
 ants treated as if she were a queen. Say w/^at you will about the 
 difference in the internal economy of the ants and the bees — and 
 there is, doubtless, a vast difference between the two — my observa- 
 tions of these ants satisfied me that, in this instance, tliey showed 
 the same homage to the ant-mother as the bees do to their 
 queen ; and I see no impropriety in calling this parsonage a queen. 
 In an ant-hill there may be many queens, while in a bee-hive there 
 is only one. I shall call this personage a queen, at all events ; 
 and if, in so doing, I presume to differ from most insect biogra- 
 phers, I ask pardon of them in advance- "When the partv set out 
 on their march to the new house, 1 saw what tliese soldiers had 
 been doing there so long by themselves. They had been gunrding 
 the queen. T had not noticed her, until the soldiers, one by one, 
 began to move towards the mouth of the bottle. They had aclu 
 ally covered her with their own bodies, to shield her from harm. 
 She was much larger than the soldiers, more than twice as large, I 
 should think. You cannot imagine what devotion they all showed 
 her. When she was ready to move, they would not let her do so 
 vulgar a thing as to walk, but insisted on carrying her to the new 
 house, which they did. 
 
 After the ants had got comfortably settled, they kept in the bot- 
 tle during most of the day, though they would sometimes come out 
 into the open court, formed by the large globe, to obtain food, and 
 for other purposes ; and at such times, especially, I learned a great 
 deal from them. I did not grudge them their, board, I assure 
 you. 
 
 One day, I found some winged ants, and took them home with 
 me. I felt some curiosity to see what their fate would be, if they 
 were found poaching on the territory of my black friends. So I 
 introduced them into the globe. In less than ten minutes, not- 
 withstanding the advantage which their wings gave them, they 
 were all seized by the black ants, and carried into their apartments. 
 For a day or two, I was in some doubt as to the precise fate of the 
 
MY PET ANTS. 135 
 
 winged intruders. "For aiigbt that I know," I said to myself, 
 '* these black fellows have made servants of the new-comers, and 
 the two parties are living together on the best possible terms." 
 But my doubts on this point were all cleared away one morning, 
 ivhen I turned my eyes towards the door of the ant-house. There 
 lay the wings of the poor victims. With quite as much truth as 
 poetry, I might have said, 
 
 "Foul raurder hafh been done, lo ! here's the proof!" 
 
 The case was too clear to admit of any speculation. My black 
 ants had eaten their flying cousins I I never forgave them for tbat 
 deed of darkness. 
 
 My ant family increased in process of time, so that at one time 
 I had some seventy-five in all, according to the best calculation I 
 could make. The queen never came out of the door from the 
 time she entered it, except when, (rather cruelly, perhaps,) in order 
 to leai-n more of their habits, I broke the bottle, and filled it with 
 fiesh earth, as I did three or four times, in order to give dif- 
 ferent friends of mine an opportunity to see the industry and skill 
 exhibited by my family in making a new house. I was somewhat 
 proud of my " curiosity shop," you will perceive. 
 
 I must tell you of a cunning feat which the ant family per- 
 formed one day, while they were my tenants. I poured some 
 water into the mouth of the little bottle, as it was lying on its 
 side. The bottom of the neck, as it lay, was covered with the 
 water, to the depth, perhaps, of a quarter of an inch. " What 
 will the cunning fellows do now ?" I said to myself. The only- 
 way, of course, in which an ant could get safely out of the bottle, 
 while the water remained there, was to climb up to the ceiling- 
 overhead, and so go down the roof. That was the way they at 
 first adopted. But they had wit enough to see that getting cut 
 and in, after this fashion, was attended with a good deal of trouble ; 
 and they probably perceived, too, that it was not altogether safe, 
 as any one of them might lose his hold while he was crawling 
 along the ceiling, and fall into the lake below^ In fact, several 
 did make this plunge, at difi'erent times, and found it somewhat 
 
136 MY PET ANTS. 
 
 difficult to get out of the water ; and, besides, some of the eggs 
 had fallen from the chamber where they were kept into the pool, 
 and it cost the wise ones some toil in fishing them out again. 
 Well, what do you think the community did to avoid the danger 
 and the trouble of egress and ingress in that manner ? You could 
 not guess, I am sure. So I might as well tell you at once. 
 After helping out of the water two or three poor fellows who had 
 fallen in, which they did by crawling down the side of the bottle, 
 and extending their hind feet to the drowning one, while their 
 fore feet were fastened securely to the side of the glass, they set 
 themselves at work to get rid of the lake altogether. Bridging it 
 was quite out of the question. They seemed to be convinced of 
 this. At any rate, they did not attempt to throw a bridge across 
 it, but adopted a surer method of getting rid of the nuisance. 
 They held a council — rather a lengthy one this time, at which 
 they concluded to Jill up the lake. And this they actually did. 
 A company of the workers, leaving the house in the manner I 
 have already stated, came out into the open globe, and carried 
 grains of earth to the lake, into which they drojiped them, one by 
 one, until it was quite filled up, so that they could walk into their 
 dwelling, as before, on dry land ! 
 
 During the six months that these ants remained with me, they 
 performed so many wonderful exploits, that were I to record them 
 all, I should nearly fill my book with them. But I must not give 
 them so much prominence as that. Indeed, I don't know but I 
 have already occupied too much space in talking about them. 
 
 It was towards the close of summer, when I dismissed my ant 
 family, and allowed them to choose a home for themselves in the 
 yard. Need I tell you, that I felt sad in parting with them ? 
 They had contributed so long and so much to my amusement, 
 that I had become not a little attached to them. — WoodwortWH 
 Insect Wonders. 
 
THE EXEMPLARY CRANE. 
 
 137 
 
 1, , 
 
 
 THE EXEMPLARY CRAXE. 
 
 A farmer's dog, a surly elf, 
 Who ne'er loved aught except him- 
 self, 
 As OQce, half-chewed, he gorged his 
 
 prey, 
 He found a bone obstruct the way : 
 Then to the crane, in feeble tone, 
 He made the dire disaster known; 
 Adding, to make assurance sure, 
 That vast rewards should pay the 
 cure. 
 
 The crane at once complied, and drew 
 The latent splinter f.nth to view. 
 The savage, freed from pain and fear, 
 Beheld his friend with scornful sneer ; 
 " What ! now, no doubt, you want 
 
 your hire. 
 Thou mercenary fool — retire," 
 The graceless ruffian taunting said, 
 '' And tliauk me that you wear your 
 
 head." 
 The generous bird reply disdain'd, 
 
138 
 
 THE EXEMPLARY CRANE. 
 
 And spurned the ground the wretch 
 
 profaned, 
 Looked up with yet unangerdi eye, 
 And clapped her wings, and sought 
 
 the sky. 
 The dog meantime, with inward pain, 
 Her careless air and just disdain 
 Beheld ; he cursed the glorious sight 
 With all the rage of thwarted spite ; 
 The keen remorse assail'd him sore, 
 And gave a pang unfelt before ; 
 With persevering feet, behind 
 Him Justice traced, though lame and 
 
 blind ; 
 When next he tasted living food, 
 He found his late mischance reuew'd, 
 Another bone liis throat retains, 
 And doubles all his former pains : 
 At once a thousand thoughts combined 
 Like lightning flash'd upon his mind ; 
 They stung, they blasted, as they 
 
 came. 
 With conscious guilt, reproach, and 
 
 shame : 
 Cursed dog — to guile more cursed a 
 
 prey, 
 Hegronu'd — as stretch'd ou earth he 
 
 lay. 
 A bird who heard him thus complain. 
 Flew straight and told her friend the 
 
 crane. 
 She hastes the expiring wretch to 
 
 find, 
 Who thus display 'd his rankling 
 
 mind : 
 " Comest thou to blast my dying ear ? 
 Why! take thy wish — I'm bound to 
 
 bear 
 Reproach and insult, storm and hate ; 
 Come all, and urge the hand of fate." 
 Conscious of worth superior, smiled 
 The crane, and thus his fears beguiled : 
 "Learn better thoughts — look up 
 
 and trace 
 The marks of mercy in my face 
 
 I court tl'e nobler task to show 
 That virtue still resides below ; 
 To make thy stubborn soul believe 
 There still are those who, wronged, 
 
 relieve ; 
 Thy life again I come to ijive. 
 And more, a pattern how to live." 
 The cur, who, still of guile afraid, 
 Knew death at hand without her aid, 
 Since now his death could be but 
 
 sure, 
 He thought it best to risk a cure. 
 Again the crane exerts her art. 
 The splinter leaves the wounded 
 
 part ; 
 The dog, astonished, dumb with awe, 
 The exalted bounty felt and saw ; 
 Grovelling in dust, he durst not meet 
 Her eye, and crawled, and lick'd her 
 
 feet ; 
 Contempt itself and just disdain 
 Had given but half the shame and 
 
 pain. 
 The crane with mildness raised her 
 
 liead. 
 While thus the vanquished sinner 
 
 said : 
 " Oh ! let me find some happy way 
 One mite of my vast debt to pay ; 
 Make me henceforth your faithful 
 
 slave. 
 And deign to use the life you gave ; 
 So shall I dare once more to rise. 
 Once more to meet those friendly 
 
 eyes." 
 The bird replied, " You owe me 
 
 naught ; 
 I've gained the sole reward I sought, 
 The joy. the glory to impai-t 
 The virtue that first warmed the 
 
 heart ; 
 To heaven thy adoration pay, 
 Its servant I, who, pleased, obey : 
 Be virtuous then, and bless'd." she said, 
 Exulting, clapped her wings, and fled. 
 
DO CROWS REASON? 
 
 189 
 
 The dog arose, resolved no more 
 A thief to prowl the f(trest o'er, 
 Was ever at his master's i-ide, 
 A faithful servant till he died. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 Can the ungrateful render virtue vain, 
 
 When all may taste the pleasure of 
 the crane ? 
 
 Shall he who sighs for glory dye the 
 field. 
 
 When nobler laurels bloodless con- 
 quests yield ? 
 
 Without return who persevere to 
 bless, 
 
 The hero's pleasure and his palm 
 possess. 
 
 Brave in all fortunes be the generous 
 mind, 
 
 Friend to its foes, and to the thank- 
 less kind ; 
 
 Since the steel'd breast, on which 
 we bounties shed, 
 
 But throws a brighter radiance round 
 the head. 
 
 . DO CROWS REASON"? 
 
 As the question of the rational powers of animals is yet a mooted 
 question, we throw in the following act to " help the cause along." 
 
 The miller at Cape Elizabeth, saw two crows light upon the mill 
 pond. One got firm footing upon a cake of ice ; but the other, 
 less judicious in the selection of his landing-place, pitched into 
 some pulpy snow, from which he found it impossible to extricate 
 himself. Crow No. 1 immediately came to the rescue, and tried 
 to push him out of the scrape. Finding, however, that this was 
 impossible, he stopped, cocked his head one side in apparently 
 knowing deliberation, then chatted for a moment with his unfor- 
 tunate comrade, and flew oft". 
 
 The miller thought he wotild watch the denouement. In about 
 ten minutes, crow No. 1 returned with two others. These three 
 put their heads together in consultation, flew round their impris- 
 oned brother and examined his condition, and then by a joint ef- 
 fort raised him up and stood him upon the ice. This being accom- 
 plished, they rubbe'd against him to warm him, brushed the frozen 
 snow from his limbs, and finally all departed together — the saved 
 crow being in the centre of the others, as though it was still neces- 
 sary to watch after his welfare. 
 
 If anybody can produce a stronger incident in croi^nological 
 history, let him bring it on. 
 
140 
 
 UNCLE FEANK'S PRIVATE BUREAU. 
 
 UNCLE FEANK'S PRIYATE BUREAU. 
 
 WESTCHESTER COUNTY. 
 
 
 ^/ 
 
 r4 HERE are but few if any counties in tlie Empire 
 State, richer in historic interest, tlian Westciies- 
 ter, in the very heart of which is situated the 
 editor's country home. One of these days I am 
 froiiig to tell you some stories connected with the early 
 ^ttlement of this part of the country, and the subsequent 
 struggles of its inhabitants. I have just discovered a rich 
 mine from which I can glean all the material I want for this pur- 
 pose. I mean the " HiHtory of Westchester Couiitt/, from its tirst 
 settlement to the present time." This work, which is in two large 
 octavo volumes, with numerous illustrations, was written by Robert 
 Bolton, Jr. a gentleman, it would seem, admirably adapted to the 
 task. Himself a native of Westchester, he sets about the work 
 of rescuing from oblivion the interesting incidents in the early 
 history of the county, with as good a relish as if it were the eat- 
 ing of a good dinner. The work was published a few years ago, 
 and the edition, I understand, is nearly exhausted. What a pity 
 it was not stereotyped. Mr. George H. Bell, of this city, has the 
 remnant of the edition for sale, at a very low price, and in a very 
 short time there will probably not be a copy of this valuable book 
 in the market. 
 
 ALL MY CORRESPONDENTS 
 
 Will greatly oblige me by writing on one side only of their paper. 
 This rule, which has long been a standing one among editors, is 
 very often broken by writers for the press, who think, doubtless, 
 that the rule is good enough, but that their case may form an 
 
UNCLE FEANK's PRIVATE BUREAU. 141 
 
 (•xee{)tion to it. Many people niisttike the reason for this luie. 
 They suppose the printer wishes them to occupy but one side of 
 tl)e paper, because the writing may be partly visible on the other 
 side, and tlius render indistinct what is written on both sides. 
 But this is not the principal reason, by at least a thousand miles. 
 It is that w^e so often wish to divide the manuscript for the use of 
 the printer, and this cannot be done when both sides are used. 1 
 often send copy to the foundry in the form of a roll of carpeting, 
 and this practice of writing over the whole sheet interferes seriously 
 with such an arrangement. I wish the rule above-named, there- 
 fore, to be regarded as imperative upon all and singular who send 
 anything through me to the printer. Write only on one side^ on 
 pain of forfeiting the reputation of — wishing to please Uncle Frank. 
 
 OUR STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY. 
 
 I suppose I may say our foundry — though neither the editor nor 
 the publisher owns a cent of the establishment — with the same pro- 
 priety that a man may talk about " our church," because he is one 
 of its communicants, or " our grocery," because he buys coftee and 
 butter there. The stereotype foundry of Mr. T. B. Smith, at all 
 events, has been called familiarly " our foundry," by my bi'other 
 and myself, for I don't know how many years. The few words I 
 have just said to those who are so kind as to assist me in catei'ing 
 for the readers of the Cabinet, suggest a few words more about 
 our foundry and those who are engaged in it. The little magazine 
 you read every month with so much interest, has the reputation 
 among good judges of being very tasteful in its mechanical execu- 
 tion, and especially of being fiee from typographical ei-rors. Now 
 I want you to know that a great share of this good taste and gen- 
 eral correctness is due to those more especially charged w^ith the 
 stereotyping and printing. A great portion of every number of 
 the Cabinet is made up of original matter, often from several pens 
 besides that of the editor ; and with all the care that I could em- 
 ploy — residing as I now do nearly thirty miles from the printer — 
 many mistakes must unavoidably creep into the stereotype plates, 
 but for the unwearied care and faithfulness of Mr. Smith and those 
 in his employ. Very few of those who have even visited such an 
 
142 UNCLE Frank's private bureau. 
 
 establishment as Mr, Smith's, where some fifty or sixty men are 
 employed, can imagine what a bank of care and patience is neces- 
 sary to secure for such a work as the Cabinet the accuracy which 
 it so unifoimly exhibits. To Mr. M'Dougal., the foreman, our 
 readers are greatly indebted. For years he has been unwearied in 
 his endeavors to serve up each monthly number with punctuality, in 
 the best possible style. The entire arrangement of subjects is left 
 with him, and sometimes, when, as it fiequently happens, there is 
 copy in the foundry for at least two numbers, even the selection of 
 the subjects themselves devolves upon him. During the seven 
 months of my absence in Europe, nearly all the matter not stereo- 
 typed before I left, passed through the press with no supervision but 
 his, and my readeis do not need to be told that the machinery of 
 the Cabinet moved so accurately during this period, that the edi- 
 tor was scarcely missed. To Mr. De Groot, also, the proof- 
 reader, Mr. Watson, m the casting room, and Mr. Wright, in the 
 finishing department, much praise is due. But for the latter gen- 
 tleman, who is always at his post and always watchful and accom- 
 modating, the face of the Cabinet would be often disfigured with 
 t}l)0graphical blemishes. But I must say no more about our 
 foundry. Indeed, I am half afraid now that the printers will 
 " strike" when they read over this manuscript, in which so many 
 " tales are told out of school," and absolutely refuse to give it a 
 passport through their realm. 
 
 By the way, didn't I promise some time ago that I would de- 
 scribe the process of stereotyping in the Cabinet? I must see 
 that I fulfil the promise, if I d.d make it. Meanwhile, should any 
 of our patrons wish to visit our foundry and see it for themselves, 
 my brother will be happy to aff"ord them the opportunity, if they 
 will give him a call. 
 
 I cannot print the lines under the caption of " The Murderer's 
 Lament." The author writes a very pretty letter. His poetry, too, 
 is better than many of the cargoes of that commodity which I am 
 in the habit of receiving, though I think we shall have something 
 from him, one of these days, which he will be better pleased with 
 should he live twenty years longer. 
 
143 
 
 The story of the " Shipwreck" would do very well for some 
 magazines, but I do not consider it quite the thing for the Cabinet. 
 
 RECENT PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 The Bee-Keeper^s Charts a small treatise on the habits of honey 
 bees, with directions respecting their management, is an excellent 
 manual for the bee-keeper, published by Mr. Saxton of this city. 
 It was written by Mr. E. W. Phelps, a gentleman who has devoted 
 years to the study of the habits of bees, with especial reference to 
 the production of honey. Mr. Phelps appears to be a very sensible 
 and observant bee-keeper, and he has embodied some excellent hints 
 on the management of the hive in this treatise. He is also the 
 inventor of a hive which, in my judgment, is the best I have ever 
 seen, especially for those who wish to watch the movements of these 
 industrious little creatures. I have one of his hives in my study, 
 with a large army of bees at work in it ; and one of these days I 
 am going to tell my readers what I have learned from a somewhat 
 careful study of their' habits. Meanwhile, if any of my friends 
 " happen our way,'' as we say in the country, I should be happy to 
 show them the tenants of Mr. Phelps' " crystal palace of industry." 
 
 The Mysteries of Bee-Jceeping Exemplified, is the title of another 
 new book on the management of bees, by Mr. Quinby, published 
 by C. M. Saxton, of this city. There is a great deal written, about 
 bees now-a-days — much that is true and sensible, with not a little 
 that is mistaken and absurd. The book of Mr. Quinby is one of 
 the best, take it all in all, according to my judgment — and I know 
 something about the habits of bees and their management — that 
 I have ever seen. The practical bee-keeper will find it reliable and 
 instructive. Price $1 00. 
 
 Pleasure and Profit, by Mrs. Manners, is a little book intended 
 for the young, and very happily adapted both to entertain them 
 and to affoi-d them permanent profit. It is a series of lessons on 
 the Lord's Prayer. I know who Mrs. Manners is ; but I'll let you 
 read the book and guess the name for yourself. 
 
144 THE puzzler's drawer. 
 
 THE PUZZLEE'S DRAWEE. 
 
 SOLUTION OF THE NAMES OF PLACES IN ASIA, ENIGMATICALLY 
 EXPRESSED. 
 
 1. BusHiRE. 3. Cashmere. 5. Meshed. 
 
 2. Bagdad. 4. Nagpoor. 
 
 Sent by Anna Quackenbnsh, of Schenectady, N. Y. ; John C. Byram, 
 of Liberty, la. ; Jules T. Billard, of Rhinebeck, N. Y. ; A. F. Gibbens, 
 of Parkersburg, Va. 
 
 answer to REBUS NO. I. 
 
 Mar. Arm. Ram. 
 
 Sent by Anna Quackenbush, of Schenectady, N. Y. ; George R. 
 Hanford, of Rodman, N. Y. ; Jules T. Billard, of Rhinebeck, N. Y. ; 
 Mary E. W. of New Haven, Ct. ; Edward L. of Orange, N. J. 
 
 answer to the geographical charade. 
 
 Tahtarv. 
 Sent by Anna Quackenbush, of Schenectady ; John C. Byram, of 
 Liberty, la. ; Jules T. Billard, of Rhinebeck, N. Y. 
 
 answer to riddle no. iii. 
 
 Water. 
 Sent by John C. Byram, of Liberty, La. ; Curtiss N. Hall, of South- 
 bury, Ct. ; John W. Hinman, of New Haven, Ct. ; Henry Hubbell, of 
 Bridgeport, Ct. , Henry VV. Scott, of Southbury, Ct. 
 
 answer to enigma no. iii. 
 " Before Honor is Humility." 
 Sent by Anna Quackenbush, of Schenectadv, N. Y. ; Geo. R. Han- 
 ford, of Rodman, N. Y. ; Jules T. Billard, of Rhinebeck, N. Y. ; A. F. 
 Gibbens, of Parke rsburg, Va. ; Caroline N. Smith, and Caroline A. Co- 
 burn, of Washington, D. C. ; Mary E. W. of New Haven, Ct. ; Edward 
 L. of Orange, N. J. 
 
 THE prize charade IN PROSE. 
 
 My whole consists of three numbers. 
 
 My first originates with you, and without you never could have been, 
 
 I 
 
THE puzzlek's dkawer. 145 
 
 could not now exist. But you cannot alone make it ; nor of yourself 
 •will you, nor can you use it. 
 
 My second, also, belongs to you, but is common to all animate 
 beings, and indispensable also to many inanimate things in daily use. 
 It is small, but highly valuable, and in constant use. You know you 
 possess it, but you never saw it, never can see it in perfection, and 
 were it taken from you, no human art could restore it. By it, you 
 may receive exquisite pleasure; by it, suffer deepest pain. Its capacity 
 IS small, but though ever receiving, it is never satisfied. It courts ad- 
 miration, but is rarely noticed. 
 
 i\ly third is a resort of only the low and depraved, and as such is 
 shunned and abhorred by the good and virtuous. It is, too, often the 
 subject of a delicate art, the product of refined taste and artistic skill. 
 It is a glorious ornament of a heavenly orb. It was known to remote 
 ages, yet is in high favor with the fashion of the day. It has been seen 
 on the mummies of Thebes, and the present Empress of France. It 
 delights the perfumed dandy, and the squaw of the rude Esquimaux, 
 and both display it. The antiquarian prizes it most when of the great- 
 est antiquity, the fine lady desires it but lately formed. 'Tis mentioned 
 by ]\Ioses, by Job, and the Saviour, while almost every newspaper in- 
 vites you to obtain it. 
 
 My first and second no one wants. My second no one wishes to 
 lose. 
 
 Though you should dislike my whole, still it is very near to you. 
 My first is never used alone. My first and second are often used 
 together, while my second and third express a disagreeable sensation. 
 Were you to give my whole to another, it would then cease to be. 
 
 B. c. J. 
 
 budget of anagrams no. i. 
 1. Tin chairs. 2. Pier club. 3. Banish taint. 
 
 A. F. G. 
 
 an enigma for FRENCH SCHOLARS. 
 
 My 12, 6, 18, is a pronoun. 
 
 My 3, 2, 12, is a title. 
 
 My 16, 20, 8, 7, 8, 12, 17, 14, 20, 17, is what often happens in the 
 streets of our large cities. 
 
 My 17, 14, 4, 8, 20, is a name applied to the higher circles of fashion. 
 
 My 8, 13, 16, 11, 5, is an article which adds much to our comfort, 
 though it is not altogether indispensable. 
 
 vol.. IV 7 SR 
 
146 THE PUZZLER'S DRAWER. 
 
 My 19, 10, 7, 8, 20, attended Kossuth while in this country. 
 My 16, 13, 8, 2, 4, 5, is a style of language used in some parts of 
 France. 
 
 My whole is a French proverb, and is composed of 20 letters. 
 Hopedale, Va. lilla m. eoyden. 
 
 RIDDLE NO. IV. 
 
 At home, alas, Fm a dark, little mass, 
 
 In the congregation of my kin ; 
 From human hand to hand we pass — 
 
 We and the house we all live in. 
 But ere the task of my life is begun, 
 A lonely captive, away I run. 
 
 I run apace to the end of my race, 
 Though my 7ears perchance may not be few; 
 
 And as long as my curious path I trace, 
 
 I'm changing my form, but change not my hue. 
 
 I travel the road that leads to fame, 
 
 And never return by the way I came. 
 
 Not a day doth pass but lad and lass, 
 
 And people of every rank and grade, 
 Take counsel of me or some of my class, 
 
 And travel, in thought, the path we have made. 
 It may be with pleasure, it may be with sorrow — 
 But they do it to-day — they will do it to-morrow. 
 
 My name will you tell ? You know me well, 
 
 You have friends throughout my family. 
 We inhabit the house wherein you dwell — 
 
 The parlor, the chamber, the library. 
 You may use or abuse us whenever you will, 
 We shall be at your service for good or for ill — 
 We may honor or harm you, but dwell with you still. 
 
 LILIAN. 
 
 ENIGMA NO. V. 
 
 I am composed of 22 letters. 
 
 My 7, 2, 18, 5. is a great man. 
 
 My 13, 12, 9, 3, 14, is a person celebrated in ancient historv, 
 
THE puzzler's DRAWER. 147 
 
 My 3, 5, 9, is the name of a weight. 
 
 My 7, 8, 10, 7, 2, 18, is the students' motto. - 
 
 My 10, 5, 12, 19, 14, 12, 13, is the motto of the persevering. 
 
 My 18, 8, 10, 19, 16, is what all should do. 
 
 My 13, 18, 12, 10, is an implement of agriculture. 
 
 My 10, 5, 12, 16, is an animal which would be most useful to man 
 were he to be deprived of all but one. .; 
 
 My 13, 12, 4, is a nickname among boys. 
 
 My 13, 8, 13, 5, is a name favored in song. 
 
 My 18, 16, 19, 5, 15, is a title of rank. 
 
 My 14, 12, 21, 15, 19, is one of the planets. Uyk, , , 
 
 My 11, 12, 4, 6, 22, 21, is what many do in trade. J^ c^r^- Q^ 
 
 My 10, 12, 4, 13, 20, 21, is a domestic fowl. ;-v^f- eO-r^ 
 
 My 12, 10, 22, is what we all have more or less. • ■■ -<'-■ ■ 
 
 My 19, 17, 21, 41, is an adverb. 
 
 My 11, 12, 11, 22, 1, was an ancient tower. 
 
 My whole is a command, which in ancient times was sometimes writ- 
 ten over a man's door. john c. long. 
 
 A RIDDLE WITHIN A CHARADE. 
 
 Though but three letters, I am named, 
 My first two make a word of four ; 
 
 My third, split from a nation famed, 
 Will leave a dweller on its shore. 
 
 I've often wept o'er human guilt, 
 And yet I never shed a tear, 
 
 And though another's blood I've spilt, 
 The law has never made me fear. 
 
 Though on the Arctic shores I dwell, 
 
 And fav in China always stay, 
 'Tis true I toll the Moscow bell, 
 
 And yet you see me every day. 
 My brother is of Moorish birth, 
 
 And gladdens oft Sahara's waste; 
 I rightly estimate his worth, 
 
 And find him pleasant to the taste. 
 
 We both united, form, you see, 
 A mighty instrument of power ; 
 
 We are a despot's firm decree, 
 And cause republicans to cower. 
 
 ^ 
 
148 BUSINESS DEPARTMENT. 
 
 BUSINESS DEPARTMENT. 
 
 The JVew York Ink Companij, under the particular direction of F. W. Wilcox, manufac- 
 ture some of the very finest inks, of different varieties, to be found in the market, and at 
 fair prices. The publisher of the Cabinet uses altogether the black ink made at this estab- 
 lishment, and finds it a most excellent article, free from all those defects which are so 
 common in ink now-a-days. Charles M. Saxton, 152 Fulton street, is the general agent. 
 
 Hiram .Ivdersoii's Carpet Establishment, No. 90 Bowery, is every way worthy of patron- 
 age. This Hiram, like lliat of the olden lime, has some regal pretensions. That Hiram 
 was king of Tyre— this, king of Carpetdom. The two are somewhat alike, also, in another 
 respect. The ancient Hiram furnished material for one of the finest edifices in the Eastern 
 world. The modern Hiram furnishes material for many of the finest edifices in the Western 
 world. 
 
 JVew Hat Stare.— Mr. Espenscheid, formerly in the employ of the celebrated Genin, has 
 established a hat store directly under the otlice of the Cabinet, in Nassau street, where he 
 is selling the best of hats at very moderate prices. Our friends will do well, we think, to 
 give him a trial. We have done so more than once, and have been more than satisfied. 
 He is determined, he says, to suit everybody, both as to the style and quality of his hats, 
 and the prices he ciiarges for them. 
 
 THE STEAMER THOMAS E. HULSE, which leaves New York, foot of Jay street, 
 every day, except Sunday, at 3.V P.M., affords an excellent opportunity of enjoying the Hud- 
 son river scenery, and of visiting all the beautiful places on the west side, as far up as Sing 
 Sing. 
 
 FOR BOSTON, via NEWPORT and FALT, RIVER.— The splendid and superior steam- 
 ers BAV STATE, Capl. Wm. Brown, and EMPiKK STATE, ("apt. Benjamin Brayton, leave 
 on alternate davs, (Sundays excepted,; from Pier No. 3, N. K., near Die Battery, at 5 P.M. 
 Both touching' at Newport each way. The steamer STATE OF MAINE, Capt. Thos. G. 
 Jewett, for Newport, on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, at 6 o'clock in the morning. 
 Returning she will leave Newport on alternate days, at 7".\.M. Freight to Boston is for- 
 warded through with great dispatch, by an express freight train. 
 
 NEW YORK and NEW HAVEN RAILROAD— New SI.'MMER ARRANGEMENT.— 
 July 18, 1853. 
 
 Trains from New York — For New Haven — Accommodation, at 7 and II 30 A.M.; 4 
 and 5 10 P.M. The 4 P.M. train is Expressed to (;reenwieh. Express at H A.M. ; 3 and 5 
 P..M. The 8 A.M. train stops at Stamford and Bridgeport; the 3 P.M. at Stamford, Nor- 
 walk and Bridgeport. For Port Chester and J\'oricaik — Special .Accommodation trains at 
 8 45 A.M. and G 15 P.M. for Norwalk ; and at 1 30 and 4 10 P.M. for Port Chester. For 
 Boston via Hartford, Sprin^rfield, and ;<'<;rcf.s<fr— Express at 8 A.M. and 5 P.M. The 8 
 A.M. stops on Hartford Railroad at Meriden, Berlin, and .Middletown, Hartford and Spring- 
 field. The 5 P.M. at Hartford only. For Housatonic and JVaufratuck Nnuruad — .At A.M. 
 and 3 P.M. Express to Bridgeport For Danbury and JVorwalk Kailrond — Accommodation 
 at 7 and 8 45 A.M. and 4 P.M. Express. Tr.\i.ss to New York.- From New Haven- 
 Accommodation at 5, 6 05, 7 30, and 9 35 A.M., and 4 P .M. Express at 1 10 and 9 30 P. M. 
 From ,Vorwalk avd Port Chester — Special Accommodation trains from Norwalk at 5 45 
 and 11 30 A.M. ; from Port Chester at 5 30 A.M. and 4 P..M. 
 
 NEW YORK and ERIE RAILROAD.— Passenger Trains leave pier foot of Duane 
 street, as follows : n 
 
 Day Express at 6 A.M., for Buffalo direct, orer the N. Y. & E. R. R., and the B. & 
 New York city R. R., without change of bag;,'ai,'e or cars, and also for Dunkirk. JUail at 8 
 A.M., for Dunkirk and Buffalo, and all intermediate .stations. P:tssengers by this train will 
 remain over night at any station between Susquehanna and Corning, and proceed the next 
 morning, .'ieconvnodn'tion at 12 30 P.M , for Delaware and all intermediate stations. 
 IVny at 3 30 P..M., for Delaware and all intermediate stations. JViirht Express at P.M., 
 for bimkirk and Buffalo. Emigrant at 7 P.M., for Dunkirk and all intermediate stations. 
 On Sundays only one express train, at 6 P M. The expre.^s trains connect at Dujikirk with 
 the Lake Shore Railro;id for Cleveland, Cincinnati. Chicago, &c., and at Buffalo with first- 
 class splendid steamers for Cleveland, Sandusky, Toledo, Detroit, and Chicago. 
 
 ^ 
 

AN APOLOGY FOR HOGS. 
 
 151 
 
 AN APOLOGY FOR HOGS. 
 
 ;^(.-i^- 
 
 r^-^^-^ 
 
 N apology for liogs. Yes, that is the topic with 
 
 . which I purpose to occupy about as many minutes 
 
 of my time and yours as there are individuals of this 
 
 genus and species within sight of the window of my 
 
 N )?y^ study. It occurs to me, though, right here at the outset, 
 ^^ that perhaps you will ask for an apology touching even 
 the use of the word ho^ at all. This animal has got such an 
 odious character among mankind, that his very name is well nigh 
 disused in polite circles. One might almost apply to this beast 
 the language of the old love ditty : 
 
 "Oh, no, we never mention him; 
 His name is never heard ; 
 My lips are now forhid to speak 
 That once familiar word." 
 
 He is sometimes called a sivine, that epithet, I suppose, being- 
 deemed more elegant. I have only to say, in apology for my 
 adhering to the " old famihar word" hoff, that it is good Saxon, 
 while swine is Norman ; and I always incline to defend Saxon 
 against Xorman, Latin, Greek, or any other language whatsoever. 
 So, by your leave, I will use the word hog, in this defence of his 
 race. If, however, any reader prefers the Norman word, he or she 
 is left at perfect liberty to substitute it. To all such persons I will 
 say, in the language of the errata sometimes printed at the end 
 of a book, in which are corrected the blunders of the printer, or, it 
 may be, of the author, " for hof/ read swineP 
 
 It is my firm and deliberate conviction — we are now, you see, 
 coming right to the marrow of our subject — that the hog family 
 have been and are most unmercifully abused. They are not im- 
 maculate. I don't claim for them a character perfectly untarnished. 
 That would be askin<i- rather too much, I tancv, consider! ni>' that the 
 
L52 AN APOLOGY FOR HOGS. 
 
 race to which we belong, with all the airs we are accustomed to put 
 on, are not quite perfect, according to our own confession, either in 
 the department of the heart or the head. No, I don't claim for 
 any hog on the face of the earth, that he is a pattern of propriety 
 and decorum. But I do claim that the hog family are " more 
 sinned against than sinning." Now suppose we examine the 
 prominent charges against the character of the hog, and see what 
 ground they have to stand upon. 
 
 It is alleged against the hog that he is selfish. 
 
 Ah, how so ? I have often heard that, charge repeated; and 
 one of the commonest comparisons in the English language is, " as 
 selfish as a hog."* Now, 1 want to know what proof you have to 
 offer that the charge is well founded. 
 
 " Why, every'body knows he is selfish. It is as plain as the 
 nose on a man's face." 
 
 No, my good fellow, I can't think of letting you oti' so. Let us 
 have some proof. These old, rusty, moss-covered, mildewed no- 
 tions want overhauling sometimes — turned bottom-side up, so that 
 daylight can peer in upon them. The* proof, I say ; give us the 
 proof; or if you haven't got that, at least tell us how, when, and 
 where the accused has exhibited these selfish propensities. 
 
 " He is selfish in his eating. He always eats just as fast as he 
 can, utterly regardless of other members of the same family ; or 
 if he notices any other hog while he is eating, it is only to drive 
 him away from the trough, if he is strong enough to do so." 
 
 What you say has some truth in it. ]3ut is tiie hog any worse 
 than hundreds of other animals in this respect — animals, too, 
 against whom nobody ever wags his tongue, and who are even 
 eulogized in good society ; aye, and caressed and petted, with ever 
 so much fondness ? How is it with a company of hens ? Are 
 they faultless in this particular ? Don't they eat fast, and don't 
 the stronger ones drive away the weaker ones, when they find a 
 magazine of provisions ? Will not dogs and cats do the same ? 
 Did you ever succeed in instilling Lord Chesterfield's notions of 
 politeness into the mind of even your pet dog, who, of course, is 
 a perfect pattern of decorum, so that the dear creature would not 
 snarl and snap his teeth at another dog, while at dinner, especially 
 
AN APOLOGY FOR HOGS. 153 
 
 if the meal was a somewhat frugal one ? And pray, what breach 
 of propriety does the hog commit at his trough, for which you 
 cannot find a parallel by watching the behavior of some members 
 of the human family, while they are at table ? 
 
 " Now, please don't touch upon that string. It is n't fair." 
 
 Yes, it is fair, and I'm going to hit the string a good, hard blow. 
 
 " Why everybody admits that some men act like hogs at a pub- 
 lic dinner-table, and such persons, in all good society, are univer- 
 sally voted hoggish:'' 
 
 Yes, but suppose you see a man, at dinner on board of a 
 steamboat, help himself, the moment he sits down at the table, 
 to all the oysters there are within his reach, just because he likes 
 them and they are somewhat scarce. Would you banish him 
 from good society on that account ? 
 
 " Why, no, not exactly." 
 
 And if you should see that same man so busy gorging himself, 
 that he had not a moment to devote to the wants of his neigh- 
 bors at the table, and moreover, if he were to perform the same 
 feat with everything eatable around him, provided that, too, be 
 scarce, and he is fond of it, would you read him out of your society 
 then, and banish him to the hog-pen ? 
 
 " Perhaps not. But the hog is slovenly, too." 
 
 I grant that he is not very tidy in his habits. At all events, 
 though I have known of a good many hogs who were publicly 
 executed, and even " drawn and quartered," I am sure I never 
 heai-d of one in my life Avho suffered capital punishment for the 
 crime of neatness. But in what particular does he most clearly 
 evince his slovenly disposition ? 
 
 " He wallows in the mire." 
 
 That he does. There is no disputing it. You might quote 
 Scripture to sustain that charge, if there were any need of it. But 
 it has been conclusively demonstrated that he resorts to this wal- 
 lowing process, as the best means within his reach to get clear 
 of certain troublesome vermin. It does not appear that the hog 
 is filtliy from choice. In this case, certainly his filthiness is rather 
 a matter of necessity. In his pen, he will observe a tolerable de- 
 gree of neatness, if his master will afford him the facilities for so 
 
 vol.. IV. 7'-^ oc 
 
154: AN APOLOGY FOE HOGS. 
 
 doing. My father's liogs, I well recollect, were always commend- 
 ably clean in their habits within doors. 
 
 Moreover, admitting all that is charged against the hog in the 
 matter of filthiness, did you ever see or hear of one that was not 
 neater than some men who chew tobacco ? Wliy, I've known a 
 man sitting in a parlor, with his face toward a fire-place or grate, 
 turn his head deliberately and designedly square about, and dis- 
 charge the superfluous juice from his tobacco mill upon the beau- 
 tiful tapestry carpet. I have seen this feat performed, and some- 
 thing very mucli like it, more than once. That certainly looks 
 like being filthy from choice, because one has a constitutional 
 fondness for filth. How can you account for such a fact on any 
 other theory ? Then don't you see that the hog is abused in 
 this matter ? Is n't it clear that he is not so hogfjish — that is an 
 adjective, you know, which the common and almost universal sen- 
 timent of mankind has coined — as some of the gentlemen you 
 entertain at your table, and to whom you assign the seat of honor 
 at your fire-side ? I'll say nothing now of another class of gentle- 
 men, who outroll the liog in the muddy gutters of your streets, 
 after drinking away their brains at a tavern or dram-shop. 
 
 " But the hog is lazy^ 
 
 I declare to you, honestly and frankly, that I don't see how that 
 personage could reasonably hope to be acquitted on this charge 
 by any jury of twelve men in America. But he is fat ; he may 
 not be absolutely and flagrantly to blame for that ; and fat people 
 can't be expected to be as active in their habits as leaner ones. 
 If it be a crime to be fat — and some of you, I know, will not take 
 that ground — then blaze away at the hog's laziness. If it be not 
 a crime, in your estimation, you had better reserve your fire for 
 other sins and other sinners. 
 
 " There's another thing, too. The hog has a most disgusting 
 grunV 
 
 Well, he does grunt some. But I can show you dozens of 
 men — women we'll leave out of the account altogether ; they are 
 a privileged class — who will outgi-unt any hog in Christendom. 
 They are grunters by pi-ofession, while your hog only grunts occa- 
 sionally and incidentally, as a cat purrs when she is particularly 
 
AX APOLOGY FOR HOGS. 155 
 
 pleased about something, when the temple of Janus in Catland is 
 dosed, and she feels herself at peace with all the woild. These 
 human grunters drive their trade at all times, through thick and 
 thin. Tiiey grunt when they are sick and when they are getting 
 better — though, in fact, they never do get better — when they are 
 at home and when tliey are abroad ; by land and by sea ; when 
 it is warm and when it is cold ; when it rains and when it shines ; 
 in the city and in the country ; when they are young and when 
 they are old ; when they are awake and — your gi-unter always 
 snores — when they are asleep. I know a good, sensible lady who 
 lives with such a man as this, aye, and loves him too, and yet she 
 cannot bear a hog, because he — grunts I 
 
 Xow tell me, reader, if you don't consider these charges against 
 the hog family as rather flimsy and frivolous ? I know you do. 
 ril not wait for an answer, because it is to be presumed that you 
 are both thoughtful and sensible ; and I am not able to see how 
 you can be both and not agree with me. 
 
 But I am prepared to go farther than this in my apology for 
 the hogs. I count them as having many amiable and praisewor- 
 thy traits of character. Did you ever notice how a whole frater- 
 nity of hogs will act, when one of their number is in trouble ? 
 They will all, to the veriest pig among them, with all the laziness 
 and the selfishness which we are in the habit of ascribing to 
 them, crowd around their suffering companion, and try to rescue 
 him. Failing in this, they will at least show him that their hearts 
 (I use this word for want of a better one ; if you have one that 
 expresses my meaning and suits you better, substitute it) are over- 
 flowing with sympathy for his woes. I have seen a dog, who 
 tried to show his wit by teasing a small pig, running away from 
 the scene of his exploits, wdiining most ingloriously, with a useful 
 lesson bitten into his neck by some indignant elderly hog, the 
 whole troop setting up a sort of hog laugh at the cur's expense. 
 
 There is a very respectable amount of intelligence about the 
 hog, too. One of those very animals that I mentioned as passing 
 my window in the beginning of this apology — and that reminds 
 me that I have pretty nearly used up the number of minutes I 
 allotted to this topic — a very veteran of a hog, knows when a cold, 
 
156 AN APOLOGY FOR HOGS. 
 
 easterly storm is coming on better than you or I do ; and when 
 she has fully made up her mind that there is something of the sort 
 brewing, she will go straight to jier quarters under cover, and see 
 if the bed is in good order, wisely reflecting, it is to be presumed, 
 that an easterly storm lasts sometimes two or three days, and con- 
 sequently that it is desirable to have a good snug harbor during 
 that time. Nor is this all. If the bed is not in good order, she 
 will hunt up bits of straw and leaves, and carry them in her mouth 
 to make her bed withal. 
 
 Some years ago, I made a visit to the Bay of Fundy, and find- 
 ing a cosy place there, quite to my mind, I spent a week or 
 more in that vicinity. While there, I had occasion to notice the 
 movements of sundry hogs who came down to the beach at low 
 tide, to feed upon the clams which abound in the sand. You are 
 aware that the tide rises from thirty to forty feet in that part of 
 the country. The consequence of this great rise is, that it must 
 come in and recede very rapidly. So swift, indeed, does it rise, 
 that cattle unacquainted with the state of things, not unfroquently 
 get overtaken by the water, and drowned. The old hogs in those 
 parts, however, get accustomed to the tide. They find out not 
 only that it " waits for no man," but that it waits for no hog. 
 One day, while I was on the beach, I saw a regiment of hogs, as 
 busy as they could be rooting for clams and feasting on them. 
 Watching them carefully, I could not help noticing that several 
 of their number ever and anon placed one ear close to the ground, 
 in the attitude of listening. They would remain in this position a 
 moment or two, and then go on digging clams. At length, one 
 cunning old fellow, after listening an instant, uttered that well- 
 known hog-note of alarm, and oft' he and the whole regiment ran 
 at the top of their speed, out of the reach of the tide. When I 
 placed my ear near the ground as the hogs did, I discovered what 
 they discovered, and what I did not know before — the roar of the 
 tide coming in ; and I found it necessary to retreat about as 
 speedily as they had done. What do you think of that, reader? 
 
THE MORNING GLORY. 
 
 15V 
 
 '•r>. 
 
 THE MOENIXa GLOEY. 
 
 It opened upon its light stem 
 
 To greet the soft bhisbes of morning ; 
 
 'Twas a pearl in the beautiful diadem, 
 The brow of Aurora adorning. 
 
 I mai-lced it when all things around 
 
 Were glowing with noonday's full power. 
 
 The withered corolla had dropped to the ground ; 
 The beauty was gone from the flower. 
 
 Even such is youth's promising bloom, 
 
 Which the fond hopes of friendship had flattered. 
 Ere manhood, oft blighted, it lies in the tomb, 
 
 A thing most unsightly and shattered. 
 
 Yet is there an unfading one. 
 
 The spirit, an amaranth flower, 
 Will peacefully open to heaven's mild sun, 
 
 Secure in Love's sheltering bower. 
 
158 
 
 ACROSS THE APENNINES. 
 
 ACROSS THE APENNINES. 
 
 MADE two visits to Florence, Avliile traveling in Italy — 
 f^ one on my way to Rome and Naples, and tlie other on 
 my return. After the last visit, I made arrangements 
 to proceed across the Apennines, by the way of J^ologna 
 and Ferrara, to Venice. The distance from Florence to Bo- 
 logna is some sixty miles. You can take either of two modes of 
 ^ conveyance — the diligence or the vettura. Having had some 
 taste of the latter, in my trip from Florence to Rome, and having 
 become quite satisfied with it, I chose the diligence in crossing the 
 Apennines. I suppose you have all heard more or less of an Ital- 
 ian diligence, though, jiossibly, you may not have a very definite 
 idea of it. The diligence is directly under the control of the gov- 
 ernment. A line of stage coaches is as much like this establish- 
 ment as anything we have in America, though the two are managed 
 very differently. The vehicle called the diligence is a clumsy- 
 looking, lumbering aftair — a sort of feudal castle on wheels, or a 
 Yankee stage-coach, with huge warts on it. It is divided into 
 three and sometimes four compartments, which go by Fi-ench quite 
 as often as Italian names. The interieur holds some six persons. 
 The rotond, situated behind this, you might suppose, from its name, 
 would be circular in its shape, but that is not the case. It re- 
 minded me of the " extension rooms" of the houses in New York. 
 It is rather preferable to the first-mentioned compartment, and is 
 capable of holding three persons, and sometimes more. The coupe 
 is situated on the same floor, at the opposite end of the vehicle. 
 This, too, accommodates three passengers. It is generally regarded 
 as the most desirable place in the diligence, and it always com- 
 mands the highest price. It is open in front, except in cold or 
 rainy weather, when it is closed by a glass window, so that it 
 gives one an excellent opportunity to see the country as he goes 
 alon^. The banquette, with which some, though not all of the 
 
ACROSS THE APENNINES. 159 
 
 Italian diligences are provided, is situated directly above the coupe, 
 and holds three persons. I always took a seat in it, in preference 
 to any other place, when there was one for me. It is more ele- 
 vated, and consequently more airy, and commanding a more exten- 
 sive view. The conductor generally sits here, so that there is room 
 in it for but two passengers. However, it is not considered a very 
 genteel place, and that class of travelers, large enough every- 
 where but especially so in Europe, who prefer respectability to 
 comfort, would as soon be guilty of taking a seat in a kitchen by 
 the side of a cook, in New York or Philadelphia, as a place in the 
 banquette of a diligence, by the side of a conductor, in Florence 
 or Milan. These are the people who travel because it is considered 
 genteel to travel, and who stare through richly-mounted opera- 
 glasses at everything respectable, everything which is duly set down 
 in Murray's Hand-book', and who would not deign to look at any- 
 thing else for a small kingdom. A sensible English lady with 
 whom I traveled for many a mile in Italy, and in whose pleasant 
 company I saw some of the most notable things on the eastern 
 side of the Alps, always chose the banquette, when she could ob- 
 tain it. She chose it in this instance. " And so the cat is out of 
 the bag, and we have the secret of your preference for the ban- 
 qiletter Well, reader, to avoid the necessity of debate, which 
 would naturally retard our progress across the Apennines, I will 
 "own up," as we Yankees sometimes say, and acknowledge that, 
 in this case, the company of the English lady had something to do 
 with my choice. To deny this, would be to confess a deplorable 
 want of gallantry, to say nothing about good taste. 
 
 I said something about the conductor a moment ago. Do not 
 suppose that this personage is identical with the driver. It would 
 make an Italian smile, the idea of such a thing. The conductor's 
 place is in the vehicle. The driver — or rather, drivers, for there 
 are generally two of them — sit astride the horses. From their 
 costume, you might mistake them for military men. Tiiey wear a 
 cockade, and their pantaloons are striped in a very awful manner. 
 Moreover, especially when they have some buonamano on hand, 
 and have imbibed a little too freely the martial spirit, they show a 
 good deal of the " pomp and circumstance of war." At sucli 
 
160 ACROSS THE APENNINES. 
 
 times, they give their orders to the horses with all the importance 
 of a general of a brigade. Your Italian, by the way, is not half as 
 polite to his horse, as a Frenchman. The latter uses very nearly 
 the same language to a horse as he would to a companion of his 
 own species. ^'- En route P'' says he, when he wishes his beast to 
 set out. Sometimes, even, he is still more polite, and you hear 
 him uttering an exhortation to his horse : " Marchons /" He in- 
 cludes himself, as preachers sometimes do in their appeals, and 
 says, " Let us go on !" Not so the Italian. You have heard much 
 of the "smoothness" and the "euphony" of the Italian language. 
 But were such words only to greet your ear in the classic vale of 
 the Arno as those uttered by the drivers of a diligence, you would 
 say, " Give me any dialect, the lowest kind of Dutch, even, in pref- 
 erence to this." One of the most musical of the ditforent terms 
 these men employ, is a word as deeply guttural as any Hebrew or 
 German could wish. I never saw it written or printed, but if I 
 were going to represent it on paper, I should do it in some such 
 form as ihh, E-u-ghJc ! In pronouncing the word, the reader is 
 particularly desired to extend his jaws rather widely at the close, 
 and to dwell on the consonants as long as his breath lasts. 
 
 Did I not mention the word buonamano ? Well, you should 
 know what that means. It is an exceedingly important word in 
 Italy. From the fact that those who are in your employ so often 
 put their finger to their mouth, suiting the action to the word, it 
 might be presumed that it meant drink-money, or something with 
 which the fellows might buy the means of drinking your health. 
 Nor would the presumption be far at fault. It is a sum which the 
 employer gives the employed, over and above that which was 
 stipulated for his services, and which bears some pi;oportion both to 
 the amount of the service and the manner in which it is peiformed. 
 Every one who drives you a mile expects something in the way of 
 buonamano. And the custom, though it may seem to you unrea- 
 sonable and vexatious, has its advantages, as the hope of a good 
 fee at the end of an engagement sometimes stimulates a man not 
 a little. 
 
 In Italy you cannot set out on any such journey as this of mine 
 across the Apennines without a strict examination of passports. If 
 
ACROSS THE APENNINES. 161 
 
 a man's passport is not signed and sealed by the proper officei-s in 
 the city he is leaving, he must stay behind, or, which I have known 
 done more than once, he must go or send for his vise, while the 
 diligence waits for him. The passport system is attended with a 
 vast deal of trouble in Europe. But " what cannot be cured, must 
 be endured," and there is no use in being vexed with such an ar- 
 rangement and letting it trouble you. 
 
 We will suppose now that the passports are all pronounced in 
 order, that the passengers have taken their seats, that the baggage 
 {luggage, according to our cousin John Bull) is arranged on the 
 top of the vehicle, and that we have commenced our journey. Our 
 diligence is soon placed on the railway, and we proceed by steam a 
 short distance, some fifteen miles from Florence. A fine view is 
 presented, as we proceed. In the distance is the city of Florence, 
 with its imposing spires, and domes, and campaniles, as well as its 
 edifices of fewer pretensions. The Arno, too, may be seen for a 
 long wa}', wending along towards the sea. Not only the valley, 
 but the hills on either side, abound with the vine and the olive, 
 and now and then an elegant country mansion is nestled down 
 among a profusion of trees, overlooking some of the finest scenery, 
 probably, in the whole world. 
 
 Anon w^e took horses again, and soon commenced climbing the 
 mountains in earnest. The road in many places is excessively steep. 
 Our progress for several hours was very slow — so slow, indeed, that 
 I frequently got out and walked a mile or two. The scenery of 
 the Apennines is often picturesque and pleasing ; but it wants the 
 boldness and grandeur of the Alps. Some of the valleys, however, 
 through which the road passes, are quite beautiful. It is interest- 
 ing in crossing^a chain of mountains, like the Apennines and the 
 Alps, to watch the difierent aspects of the vegetation as you ascend, 
 and then again on the opposite slope, as you are descending. It 
 was on the 19th of May that I set out from Florence. In the val- 
 ley of the Arno there was a perfect carnival among the flowers. 
 It was the season when the flower-girls, a numerous class in that 
 city, were driving their trade most vigorously. I could not stop a 
 moment in the street, much less sit down in a cafe, to take a cup 
 of coftee, and look at " Galignani's Messenger," without being ac- 
 
162 ACROSS THE APENNINES. 
 
 costed by them, always courteously and with the utmost decorum. 
 They never sell flowers. They only give them away. When in 
 a hotel or cofi:ee house at breakfast, they often place a sprig of 
 mignonette or a moss rose on the table before each of the guests. 
 True, they expect or hope to be paid eventually, though they sel- 
 dom or never dun a person for compensation. 
 
 As I was saying, the flowers were very abundant in the vale of 
 the Arno, when we left Florence, but as we advanced up the x\pen- 
 nines, they became more and more scarce, until near the summit 
 only a few, and those of a stunted and comparatively uninteresting 
 character, were visible. The little harebell [Campanula Rotundi- 
 folia^ I think, is its botanical name) I saw on both slopes of the 
 mountain, almost to tlie highest point in our route. Indeed, I 
 scarcely lost sight of this beautiful wild flower for a single day in 
 all my rambles in Europe. The modest forget-me-not, too, was 
 almost a constant companion. Among the Apennines, I saw now 
 and then a flower growing wild, and appearing very much at home, 
 which in America are exotics, and cultivated in our gardens and 
 green-houses as very choice plants. 
 
 We knew when we reached the summit, by observing that the 
 little streams flowed easterly, or towards the Adriatic, instead of 
 the opposite direction, or towards the Mediterranean. After we 
 began to descend, our progress was rapid enough. Though it was 
 cool on the sunmiit, long enough before we reached the plain be- 
 low, it was excessively hot, and we all ate dust sufficient to satisfy 
 any one not superlatively unreasonable, a full fortnight. 
 
 At this point, reader, I was about to take leave of you. But it 
 occurred to me that possibly, were I to do so, you would conclude 
 that our party were lost in the cloud of dust I hav§ mentioned, as 
 travelers sometimes are under drifts of sand in Africa. So to pre- 
 vent the possibility of any such erroneous conclusion, I must tell 
 you that we emerged from that cloud eventually, and in due time — 
 that is, about the time the dew began to lodge upon the grass by 
 the wayside — we were safely set down at the head quarters of the 
 diligence in the ancient city of Bologna, the second capital of the 
 States of the Church, famous for beautiful pictures, long, covered 
 porticoes, leaning towei-s, and — sausages. I proceeded, as soon as 
 
A SINGULAR LAW. 163 
 
 the passport regulations would allow me, to the Grande Alhergo 
 Svissero, or the Great Swiss Hotel, where I found everybody, from 
 the landlord to the lowest servant, in the highest possible state of 
 excitement, owing to the arrival, a moment or two before, of a son 
 (the oldest, I think,) of the czar of Russia, with his suite. On ac- 
 count of the advent of this august personage, everything about the 
 establishment was in confusion. The prince was the sun in that 
 firmament for the time being. All the waiters were his satellites. 
 The whole army of them revolved around him, as a central lumi- 
 naiy, and it was with some difficulty that a plain republican, as I 
 must have appeared, succeeded in attracting any one of them out 
 of this orbit long enough to show me to a room. However, I did 
 succeed. Perseverance and patience — two graces for which the 
 Yankees are everywhere noted, to say nothing about a spice of 
 impudence, with which they have been charged — achieve great re- 
 sults all over the world. 
 
 A SINGULAR LAW. 
 
 I WONDER how "Brother Jonathan" would like to have a law 
 passed here in this country, regulating the expenses of individual 
 citizens, and telling him how many dresses his wife might have at 
 one time. I venture to guess that he would be as cross as a 
 hyena about it. Yet such a thing has been done in more than 
 one country, and at different epochs in the world's history too. 
 During the reign of Philip IV. of France, in the early part of the 
 fxirteenth century, it was decreed by law, that no duke, count, or 
 baron, possessing a territorial manor of six thousand livii^ should 
 have more than four robes a year, and their wives as many ; pre- 
 lates and knights were restricted to two, an esquire two, a back- 
 elor one, and every-woman, single or married, who had less than 
 two thousand livres a year, in land, one. No citizen's wife was 
 permitted to have a carriage, or to be lighted home at night with 
 waxen torches ; neither she nor her husband was permitted to wear ex- 
 pensive furs, or gold, or precious stones, or crowns of gold and silver. 
 
164 
 
 POWER OF THE MIND OVER THE BODY^ 
 
 POWER OF THE MIKD OYER THE BODY. 
 
 J>. ANY good people have an undue diead of death. 
 Though their life is exemphirv, and they give the 
 best of evidence that they are prepared for an- 
 other world, they live in a state of trembling anxiety 
 
 "^-, respecting their dying hour. Such persons ought to re- 
 '^ member that the Lord provides for all these cases. It is 
 a fact of which any one can assure himself, who will take the 
 trouble, that when the mind is filled with any great emotion, the 
 body scarcely feels pain at all ; and it frequently happens that, at 
 the moment of deatlf^^lfc Christian is elevated beyond measure with 
 love to God and hope of heaven. 
 
 In a biographical notice, giving an account of the last days of a 
 good man, who was distinguished for his serene and lofty faith, he 
 is reported as saying, " I appear to suffer, but I do not. It seems 
 as if some angel were standing by me, he bearing all the pain, and 
 this poor body of mine only exhibiting the outward signs of it." 
 
 A striking instance of the same kind occurred not long since, as 
 I learn from undoubted authority. A lady of exalted piety was 
 suffering from protracted and fatal sickness, and at certain intervals 
 there came spasms and convulsions, giving externally all the symp- 
 toms of intolerable agony. Once when these spasms were evidently 
 coming on, and her friends were bending over with anxious faces, 
 she looked up with a sweet tranquil smile, and said, "Do not be 
 troubled about me. You think I suffer extremely, but I do not. I 
 know not how it is, but somehow when these convulsions come, 
 there comes with them a sense of Divine presence, an inward power, 
 that takes upon itself the burden of my suffeiings ; and these 
 spasms are only an appearance. 
 
 Here you see, plainly enough, the truth of what I told you at 
 
I 
 
 y 
 
EARLY RISING. 167 
 
 first — that there is a most beautiful and beneficent law, that when 
 the mind is exalted with great thoughts, or filled with an all- 
 absorbing love, the body becomes less sensible to its infirmities and 
 sufi'erings and sometimes forgets them altogetlier. Even our natu- 
 ral affections and passions have power, though in a limited degree, 
 of suspending our bodily sensation. A mother, who a little while 
 ago was pale and drooping under the smallest burdens, is by-and- 
 bye seen hanging over the bed of her stricken child, and how 
 changed from what she was ! Her countenance that was so pale, 
 now beams with life, and the arm that hung down is nerved with 
 eneigy. The astronomer in his starry observations becomes free 
 of the body ; and cold, hunger, and fatigue are alike forgotten. 
 But religious faith, when warm and clear, and its eye open wide 
 on immortality, elevates and changes all our attections, and then it 
 reacts upon the whole frame, and sends the tranquilizing influence 
 alonof all its nerves. 
 
 EAELY Eisma. 
 
 A TALENTED physician remarks that " Early rising is the stepping 
 etone to all that is great and good. Both the mind and the body 
 are invigorated by the practice, and much valuable time is gained 
 that is lost to the sluggard. It is the basis upon which health and 
 wealth are founded. The early morning is the best period for re- 
 flection and study, for it is then, after refieshing sleep, that the mind 
 is most vigorous and calm. The statesman, as well as the merchant, 
 arranges his plans for the coming day, and all passes smoothly ; 
 while he who wastes his morning in bed, loses much of that most val- 
 uable commodity — time — which is never regained. Early rising will 
 often make the poor man rich, the contrary will too often beggar the 
 wealthiest. It will do much towards making the weak strong, and 
 the reverse will enfeeble the strongest. Second sleep very naturally 
 produces headache and languor. There is nothing more true than 
 that ' He who loses an hour in the morning, is seeking it the re- 
 mainder of the day.' " 
 
168 A LESSOX FROM THE CORAL REEF. 
 
 A LESSON FEOM THE COEAL REEF. 
 
 Far where the smooth Pacific swells, 
 
 Beneath an arch of blue, 
 Where sky and wave together meet, 
 
 A coral reeflet grew. 
 
 No mortal eye espied it there, 
 
 Nor sea-bird poised on high ; 
 Lonely it sprang, and lonely grew, 
 
 The nursling of the sky. 
 
 With soft, caressing touch, the wind 
 
 In summer round it played ; 
 And, murmuring through its tiny caves, 
 
 Unceasing music made. 
 
 The ministering wind, so sweet 
 With mountain perfume, brought 
 
 A changeful robe of emerald moss. 
 By fairy fingers wrought. 
 
 Thus day by day, and year by year, 
 
 The little islet grew : 
 Its food, the flower-dust wafted by ; 
 
 Its drink, the crystal dew. 
 
 By night the lonely stars looked forth, 
 Each from his watch-tower high. 
 
 And smiled a loving blessing down 
 Gently and silently. 
 
 And forest-birds from distant isles 
 
 A moment settled there ; 
 And from their plumage shook the seeds, 
 
 Then sprang into the air. 
 
 The islet grew, and tender plants 
 
 Rose up amidst the dearth, — 
 Bloomed, died, and dropped upon the soil, 
 
 Like gifts from heaven to earth. 
 
GOD CARETH FOR THE CHILDREN. 169 
 
 Thus ages passed : a hundred trees 
 Graced that once-barren strand ; 
 
 A hundred ships its produce bore 
 To many a distant land. 
 
 And thus in every human heart 
 
 A gem of good is sown, 
 Whose strivings upward to the light 
 
 Are seen by God alone. 
 
 GOD CARETH FOR THE CHILDREN. 
 
 God careth for the children, 
 
 The children of the poor ; 
 For them he bids the little flowers 
 
 Blossom upon the moor. 
 Spring up beneath the shady hedge 
 
 And on the green hill side, 
 And 'mid the gently-waving grass 
 
 Their modest beauty hide. 
 
 God careth for the children, 
 
 The children of the poor ; 
 For them the little songsters 
 
 Chirp round the cottage door ; 
 All through the long, long summer days, 
 
 Warble their music wild ; 
 In winter, feed upon the crumbs 
 
 Thrown by the peasant child. 
 
 God careth for the children. 
 
 The children of the poor ; 
 And happily they live, although 
 
 Neglected and obscure. 
 Upspringing like the daisies, 
 
 Contented they may be, 
 For He who careth for the birds, 
 
 Watcheth them lovingly. gektrude. 
 
 VOL. IV. 8 oc 
 
170 
 
 HOW CATS AND DOGS MAY AGREE. 
 
 
 now CATS AND DOGS MAY AGREE. 
 
 BY J. r. M'CORD. 
 
 I DARE say, dear reader, you have heard the remark, occasion- 
 ally, in relation to certain characters, " They quarrel like cats and 
 dogs." There is good ground, in the conduct of those two hostile 
 tribes, for such a comparison. Dogs are disposed to be cross to 
 cats, and cats are apt to put up their backs, to spit and scratch, 
 when dogs come near them. The scenes exhibited, where a couple 
 of such quarrelsome creatures live together, are not at all like any 
 which occurred in Eden, in the period of innocence and love. The 
 dog will not bear anything from the cat, nor the cat from the dog. 
 Each throws out from the corner of the eye suspicious glances at 
 the other, keeps a strict watch over personal honor and rights, and 
 pretends to be insulted, in cases in which no insult, or even slight, 
 was intended. The state of affairs is often much w^orse. The do(f 
 chases the cat about the premises, and would shake her very heart 
 out of her, if he could only get her between his teeth. When she 
 
HOW CATS ASD DOGS MAY AGREE. 171 
 
 turns upon him and gives him battle, as she sometimes gathers 
 courage enough to do, there is such growling, and snarling, and 
 barking, and wauling, as might frighten all the mice and rats in the 
 neiirhborhood out of their wits, or cause them to flee to some more 
 peaceable quarters. Should they happen to be in the room with 
 the family, and, under the impulse of sudden rage, open the con- 
 flict there, what an intolerable confusion ! They have not the least 
 care how much noise they make, nor what mischief they do. They 
 tumble about on the carpet, knock down chairs, and turn over 
 flower-pots, and whatever else happens to be in their way. The 
 baby screams in terror, and grown people can hardly tell whether 
 their heads are on their shoulders or not, till some one takes the 
 tongs or broomstick, and drives the unmannerly creatures out of 
 doors. 
 
 Such dogs and cats, I am sure, ought to be ashamed of them- 
 selves. Perhaps they do blush a little, or feel like skulking off out 
 of sight, when they have come out of their mad fit, and reflect 
 calmly and seriously on their conduct. "What shall be said, then, 
 of those boys and girls, of those men and women, who, though be- 
 longing to a more intelligent race, show a similar disposition ? I 
 would recommend them to take particular notice of dogs and cats 
 of another description. There are some of these animals that re- 
 call to one's mind the friendship of David and Jonathan. They 
 never exchange a crabbed growl, or cross look ; and never seem to 
 act as if they were thinking exclusively of their own interests. 
 One does not assume to be superior to the other, or to have the 
 best right to stroll around the domestic domain. They show mu- 
 tual respect ; they are fond of one another's company ; they are 
 equals in sport ; they share the same bed by the fire ; and each 
 looks on without grudging, while the other eats his dinner. 
 
 I became familiar with a remarkable case of this kind, during 
 my late sojourn in central Pennsylvania. It is the very thing I 
 proposed to mention, when I commenced this article. I have been 
 rather too long in getting to it ; still, if what I have been saying 
 shall be of the least advantage to you, why, so much better than 
 if I had not said it. 
 
 In the case referred to just now, the dog was a famous fellow, 
 
172 HOW CATS AND DOGS MAY AGREE. 
 
 and had been taught to perform a great many wonderful feats. He 
 was five times older than the cat who was his companion. He had 
 felt the frosts of fifteen winters at least. Yet, though there was so 
 much difference in age, the two were on as intimate terms as two 
 little children of the same household. Each manifested consider- 
 able uneasiness when the other was absent, walking about with a 
 disconsolate air, and anxiously searching every corner wliere the 
 missing companion might possibly be found. On joining each 
 other again, there were signs of pleasure on both sides ; the cat 
 would rub her sides aflectionately against the dog, and the dog 
 would wag his tail, and cast upon her a look of warm regard. 
 They were often laid down together; and it was the peculiar man- 
 ner in which they reposed, that fiist struck me, and called my at- 
 tention to their intimacy. Sometimes the lesser animal would 
 coil herself up at the back of the larger ; most commonly, however, 
 she took her position right upon his side, a little forward of the 
 flank. I have seen her go through the operation of making her 
 bed, before lying down — clawing up the shaggy coat of her friend, 
 and working it over, to make it as soft as possible — he meanwhile 
 remaining quiet, and oflering not the least objection to the singular 
 process. It was an interesting sight, to see one piled upon the 
 other, in the enjoyment of a peaceable nap. When the weather 
 was cool, that manner of sleeping must have been quite agreeable 
 to both ; though, doubtless, the advantage was by many degrees 
 on the side of the cat. She would have had to search a good 
 while, I think, before finding another so comfortable a bed. Not 
 even a buffalo skin could equal it, unless it had beneath it the live, 
 warm flesh of the animal. 
 
 It was clear to my mind, in the light of that example, how cats 
 and dogs may live together. Peace may be preserved among them, 
 indeed, by keeping them apart, and confining each hostile tribe to 
 its own quarters. That remedy, however, like many other very 
 effectual ones, cannot well be applied in all cases. It is often con- 
 venient and necessary, to have a couple of those animals attached 
 to the same family ; and how, in such a case, they may get along 
 amicably, and without annoyance or detriment to any concerned, 
 is the important point to be determined. There is an excellent way 
 
THE KING AND THE JUDGE. 173 
 
 of doing the thing. Having seen it tried, with happy effect, I can 
 recommend it with a good conscience. In the first place, the cat 
 and the dog must both have a disposition and form a purpose to 
 treat each other with uniform kindness. Then, they must not fail 
 to have their conduct agree with their good disposition and pur- 
 pose. The dog must never bark nor snarl at the cat, and the cat 
 must never strike nor spit at the dog. One must not interfere with 
 the rii^hts of the other. Each should have his own dish to eat out 
 of, and, on all occasions, be good-natured, obliging, and generous. 
 
 Have you got my idea, reader ? If you have, it may be of use 
 to you, some day or other. 
 
 THE KING AND THE JUDGE. 
 
 There is a capital story told of Ernest, king of Hanover, by 
 Mr. Brace, in his entertaining book on " Social Life in Germany." 
 The story is thus : 
 
 It is related of the king, that a poor countryman applied one 
 day for an audience, and, according to the rule that no one should 
 be refused, was admitted. The man complained that the judge 
 of his village neglected his duties — left the business with the 
 clerk — and was amusing himself with hunting and sports, so that 
 the poor could not get their rights. 
 
 Ernest heard him through — said nothing — but before the coun- 
 tryman could have fairly reached the city gates, was posting in a 
 private carriage, as fast as horses would carry him, to the village 
 of the unfortunate judge. The carriage stopped before the court. 
 The king, in citizen's dress, rushed up the steps, demanded the 
 judge, and found that he was engaged as described ; called for the 
 clerk, and substantiated everything through him ; sat down and 
 wrote off something hastily on a bit of paper, and handed it to 
 the clerk, and was rattling off again in his carriage. The clerk, 
 to his amazement, on opening the paper, found that it contained 
 an order for the dismission of the judge, and his own appointment 
 in his place, signed with the name of the king of Hanover ! 
 
174 
 
 THE PORCUPINE. 
 
 •^^^. _--.- 
 
 THE PORCUPINE. 
 
 A GREAT many things have been said about the porcupine which 
 are fabulous ; and I suppose my readers would like to know what 
 to believe and what to disbelieve. The common porcupine of Eu- 
 rope is about two feet long, and covered with long spines or (piills. 
 In defending itself, its usual mode is to lie on one side and roll over 
 upon its enemy. It has been represented as being a ferocious 
 animal, inclined, like Iludibras, to get into a quarrel with every 
 creature it meets. But such is far from -the- case. It defends 
 itself when it is attacked — and who can blame it for so doing ? — 
 yet it seldom acts on the offensive. The finest specimens of the 
 porcupine which I ever saw were at the "Zoological Gardens in 
 London. They were quite harmless, and very pfayful. An Eng- 
 lishman had a tame porcupine and a hunting leopard, which he 
 
ORIGIN OF SPECTACLES. 175 
 
 used often to turn out together, in company with a Newfoundland 
 dog, to play on a lawn behind his house. No sooner were the dog 
 and leopard released, than they began to chase the porcupine, who 
 uniformly, at the outset, tried to escape by flight ; but when he 
 found that there was no chance of his getting away, he would 
 thrust his head into some corner, and erect his spines, making a 
 snorting noise as he did so. His pursuers, if they happened^ be 
 running pretty swiftly at the time, would sometimes come with 
 full force against the porcupine's quills, in which case they got their 
 noses badly pricked. A wound from the porcupine's quill is \'«ry 
 difficult to cure. There seems to be something poisonous in the 
 quill. I have heard of a man in South Africa, who was pricked in 
 the leg by one of their quills, and who w^as ill for upwards of six 
 months afterwards. The quills of this animal are from ten to 
 fourteen inches long, tapering and sharp at each end. Each quill 
 is largest in the middle, and inserted into the animal's skin in the 
 same manner that feathers grow upon birds. It is of different 
 colors, white and black being alternated the whole length of the 
 quill. The porcupine feeds both upon animals and Vegetables. 
 Travelers in Africa assure us that there is an inveterate enmity be- 
 tween the serpent and the jDorcupine, and that they never meet 
 without a deadly engagement. 
 
 OKIGIISr OF SPECTACLES. 
 
 Spectacles first became known about the beginning of the four- 
 teenth century ; an inscription on the tomb of a nobleman, Salvi- 
 nus Armatus, of Florence, who died 1317, states that he was the 
 inventor. The person, however, who first made the invention pub- 
 lic, was Alexander Spina, a native of Pisa. He happened to see 
 a pair of spectacles in the hands of a person who would not, or 
 could not, explain the principle of them to him ; but he succeeded 
 in making a pair for himself, and immediately made their construc- 
 tion public for the good of others. 
 
176 
 
 HOW TO RISE IX THE WOKLD. 
 
 HOW TO KISE IN THE WOELD. 
 
 T is astonishing' what wonders industry and persever- 
 ance will accomplish in the world. Here is a tale so 
 marvelous, that you would all call it fictitious, if I were 
 not to assure you, as I must, that it is strictly true. 
 
 It is a tale of George Wilson, professor of mathematics in 
 
 Russia. 
 
 A few years since, as Mr. Gallaudet, a gentleman of fine 
 education and unusual generosity, was walking in the streets of 
 Hartford, Connecticut, where he resided, there came running to him 
 a poor boy, of very ordinary appearance, but whose fine, intelligent 
 eye fixed the attention of the gentleman, as the boy inquired, "Sir, 
 can you tell me of a man who would like a boy to work for him, 
 and teach ^liiTi to read ?" " Whose boy are you, and where do you 
 live ?" " I have no parents," was the reply, " and have just run 
 away from the workhouse because they would not teach me to 
 read." The gentleman made arrangements with the authorities of 
 the town, and took the boy into his own family. There he learned 
 to read. Nor was this all. He soon acquired the confidence of 
 his new associates, by faithfulness and honesty. He was allowed 
 the use of his friend's library, and made rapid progress in the ac- 
 quisition of knowledge. It became necessary after a while, that 
 George should leave Mr. Gallaudet, and he became apprenticed to] 
 a cabinet-maker in the neighborhood. There the same integrity] 
 won for him the favor of his new associates. To gratify his incli-j 
 nation for study, his master had a little room finished for him inj 
 the upper part of the shop, where he devoted his leisure time toj 
 his favorite pursuits. Here he made large attainments in mathe-! 
 matics, in the French language, and other branches. After being^^i 
 in this situation a few years, as he sat at tea with the family one- 
 evening, he all at once remarked that he wanted to go to' 
 France. 
 
HOW TO RISE IX THE WORLD. 177 
 
 " Go to France !" said his master, surprised that the apparently 
 contented and happy youth had thus suddenly become dissatisfied 
 with his situation — " for what ?" 
 
 " Ask Mr. Gallaudet to tea, to-morrow evening," continued 
 George, " and I will explain." 
 
 His kind friend was invited accordingly. At tea-time the ap- 
 prentice presented himself with his manuscripts, in Englisj^ and 
 French, and explained his singular intention to go to France. 
 
 '• In the time of Xapoleon," said he, " a prize was offered by the 
 French government for the simplest rule of measuring plane sur- 
 faces, of whatever outline. The prize has never been awarded, and 
 that method I have discovered." 
 
 He then demonstrated his problem, to the surprise and gratifica- 
 tion of his friends, who immediately furnished him with the means 
 of defraying his expenses, and with letters of introduction to Hon. 
 Lewis Cass, then our Minister to the Court of France. He was 
 introduced to Louis Phillipe, and in the presence of the King and 
 nobles, and plenipotentiaries, this American youth demonstrated 
 his problem, and received the plaudits of the court. He received 
 the prize, which he had clearly won, besides valuable presents from 
 the king. 
 
 He then took letters of introduction, and proceeded to the Court 
 of St. James, and took up a similar prize, offered by the Royal So- 
 ciety, and returned to the United States. Here he was preparing 
 to secure the benefit of his discovery by patent, when he received a 
 letter from the Emperor Nicholas himself, one of whose ministers 
 had witnessed his demonstrations at London, inviting him to make 
 his residence at the Piussian Court, and furnishing him with ample 
 means for his outfit. 
 
 He complied with the invitation, repaired to St. Petersburgh, 
 and in 1852 was Professor of Mathematics in the Royal College, 
 under the special protection of the Autocrat of all the Russias. 
 
 oc 
 
: 
 
 178 A CHAPTER ON ORANGES. 
 
 A CHAPTEE ON^ OEANGES. 
 
 T has occurred to me that some facts about the culliva- 
 
 "^ tion of the orange -would be interesting to my readers. 
 
 So I have been hunting up some information on the 
 
 •^ subject ; and the following is the result of the hunt. 
 
 The China or sweet orange was introduced into Europe 
 
 in the eleventh century, somewhere about the time that 
 
 ^ William the Conqueror went over to England. Oranges 
 were first cultivated in Italy, whence they were taken to Spain and 
 Portugal. The orange is now cultivated to so great an extent in 
 Italy, that there are almost forests of them. Prince Antonio 
 Borghose has at his palace near Rome, which I visited while in the 
 Imperial City, upwards of seventy sorts of orange and lemon-trees, 
 among which are some very rare kinds. It is a fruit so much es- 
 teemed in Italy, where it thrives well, that apples, pears, and cher- 
 ries have almost become extinct in that country. There the de- 
 lightful perfume of the orange groves scents the air for miles. 
 The tree produces a succession of flowers during the whole sum- 
 mer, and in countries where the climate is not mild enough for its 
 natural growth, it is cultivated in green-houses, and large orange- 
 ries have been built for the express purpose of housing it. The 
 most magnificent orangery, perhaps, is that of Versailles, built by 
 Louis XIV. in which is a fine orange-tree, called the " Great Bour- 
 bon," which, is more than four hundred years old. A sight of that 
 tree alone is worth a visit from Paris to Versailles. 
 
 Orano-es were known in Endand in the time of Henrv VIII. but 
 it does not appear that they were cultivated before the reign of 
 Queen Elizabeth. Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I. had an 
 orange-house and orange-garden at her mansion, Wimbledon 
 Hall, in Surrey, and when this property was sold by order of th« 
 Parliament, in 1G49, forty -two orange-trees stated to bear ^^ fayre 
 and large oranges''' were valued at ten pounds a tree, large and 
 small together, and one lemon-tree at twenty pounds. 
 
 J 
 
A CHAPTER OX ORANGES. 179 
 
 There is now at Margam Abbey, in South Wales, a very fine 
 orancrery, in which the trees are those which Sir Henry Wootton 
 sent from Italy as a present to James I. These trees were cast 
 ashore here by the wreck of the vessel, and the owner of the place, 
 bv the King's permission, built a splendid orangery to receive them, 
 which stands in the centre of the garden, surrounded on three 
 sides by wooded hills. 
 
 The orange belongs to the Citrus genus of plants. The lemon, 
 the citron, the shaddock, the lime are all species of the same plant. 
 The common orange of the markets is called the China orange. It 
 is smooth, round, and rather flattened ; its rind is thin, and of a 
 golden yellow. There is also a pear-shaped orange, but it is a rare 
 variety. The orange of Nice is a thick-skinned, rough, dark-yel- 
 low, round fruit ; it is much cultivated about Xice, and is consid- 
 ered one of the finest grown, both from beauty of appearance and 
 excellence of quality. The blood-red orange has its pulp irregularly 
 mottled with crimson. It is said to have come originally from the 
 Philippine Islands, and was once regarded as a great curiosity, and 
 high prices were given for plants of this variety ; but it has now 
 gone into disrepute. It is su^Dposed to be produced from grafting 
 the orange upon the pomegranate. The Mandarin orange has a 
 flattened, rough, deep orange fruit, with a thin rind, which separates 
 spontaneously from the pulp. This sort has been raised in China, 
 where its fruit is chiefly distributed as presents to the great oflficers 
 of state, whence its- name. It is now cultivated in Malta, where it 
 arrives at perfection — its singularity consisting in the rind so com- 
 pletely separating from the pulp, when quite ripe, that the latter 
 may be shaken about inside. The St. Michael's orange has small, 
 round, pale-yellow, seedless fruit, having a thin rind, and extremely 
 sweet pulp. This, when in a state of perfection, is perhaps the 
 most delicious of all oranges, and by far the most productive. 
 Great quantities are imported from the Azores, where it ap- 
 pears to be entirely cultivated as an object of trade. It is said 
 that twenty thousand of these oranges have been picked from a 
 single tree, exclusive of the large quantity that were blown down 
 or rejected as unfit for sale. There are also what are called the 
 egg-oranges of Malta, which are sometimes sent to foreign lands as 
 
180 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 
 
 presents, but they are not equal in quality to the St. Michael's. 
 Besides these, there are other kinds, among which I will only men- 
 tion the bitter orange, of a deep yellow color, and with an acid or 
 bitter pulp. There are numerous varieties of this orange, but 
 they are cultivated principally for the superior beauty of their flow- 
 ers, of which the most celebrated is the curled-leaved orange, the 
 flowers of which are large, sweet, and produced in extraordinary 
 abundance. 
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTOK 
 
 On a fine morning in the ftdl of 1737, Mr. Washington, having 
 little George by the liand, came to the door and asked my cousin 
 and myself to walk with him to the orchard, promising to show 
 us a fine sight. On arriving at the orchard, we were jiresented 
 with a fine sight indeed. The whole earth, as far as we could see, 
 was strewed with fruit ; and yet the trees were bending under the 
 weight of apples, which hung in clusters, like grapes, and vainly 
 strove to hide their red cheeks behind the green leaves. 
 
 " Now, George," said his father, " look here my son ! Don't 
 you remember when this good cousin of yours brought you that 
 fine large apple last spring, how hardly I could prevail on you to 
 divide with your brothers and sisters ; though I promised you that 
 if you would but do it, God Almighty would give you ^^/cn^y of 
 apples this fall P 
 
 Poor George could not say a word ; but hanging down his head, 
 looked quite confused, wdiile with his little naked toes he scratched 
 in the soft ground. "Now look up, my son," continued his father, 
 " and see how richly that blessed God has made good my promise to 
 you. Wherever you turn your eyes, you see the trees loaded with 
 fine fruit, many of them indeed breaking down, while the ground is 
 covered wnth mellow apples, more than you could ever eat." 
 
 George looked in silence on the wide wilderness of fruit ; he mark- 
 ed the busy humming bees, and the gay notes of birds ; then lifting 
 his eyes, filled with shining moisture, he said, softly, " Well, papa, 
 only forgive me this time, and see if I ever be so stingy any more." 
 
JIILTOX'S LYCIDAS. 181 
 
 MILTON'S LYCIDAS. 
 
 One of the most beautiful of all Milton's minor poems, is that 
 on the death of Lvcidas. It was written when the poet was but 
 twenty-nine years old. Lycidas is a fictitious name which Milton 
 employs to designate his friend John King, who was drowned on 
 his passage from England to Ireland. The character of the poem 
 is what is called pastoral, it being assumed that the author and 
 his lamented friend were brother shepherds. " For we were nursed," 
 so runs the verse — 
 
 "For we were nursed upon the self-same hill; 
 Led the same flock by fountain, shade and rill; 
 Together hoth, ere the high lawns appeared 
 Under the opening eyelids of the morn, 
 We drove a-neld, and hoth together heard 
 What time the gray fly winds her sultry horn, 
 Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night 
 Oft till the star that rose at evening bright, 
 Toward heaven's descent had sloped his westering wheel " 
 
182 A GOOD EETORT. 
 
 The close of this poem is exceedingly happy. Tlie soul of the 
 poet is buoyed up by the hopes of the Christian, and he sees his 
 friend, by the eye of faith, around the throne of God in heaven : 
 
 "Weep no more, -woful shepherds, -weep no more, 
 Por Lycidaa, your sorrow, is not dead ; 
 Sunk though he be beneath the ■watery floor, 
 So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, 
 And yet anon repairs his drooping head. 
 And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 
 Flames in the forehead of the morning sky : 
 So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high. 
 Through the dear might of him that walked the waves, 
 Where other groves and other streams along, 
 With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, 
 And hears the soul's expressive, nuptial song 
 In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. 
 There entertain him all the saints above, 
 In solemn troops and sweet societies, 
 That sing, and singing in their glory, move, 
 And wipe the tears forever from his eyes." 
 
 The engraving which accompanies this article is from a pic- 
 ture of Lycidas painted by Fuseli. Tliis distinguished painter was 
 born at Zurich, in Switzerland, in ITSO, and died in England in 
 1825. He painted a series of forty -seven pictures to illustrate dif- 
 ferent scenes and characters in Milton's poems, and this sketch of 
 Lycidas is one of the series. 
 
 A GOOD EETORT. 
 
 A YOUNG lady at an Odd Fellows' Festival, who was decorated 
 with several artificial flowers about her person, was approached by 
 a young man whose breath gave evidence of his having imbibed 
 a little too freely. He addressed her with " Miss Smith, have not 
 those flowers lost their fragrance ?" 
 
 " If they have not,''^ she replied, " they certainly will if they come 
 in contact with your breath." 
 
THE LITTLE BOY THAT DIED. 183 
 
 THE LITTLE BOY THAT DIED. 
 
 I AM fill alone in my chamber now, 
 
 And the midnight hour is near ; 
 And the fagot's crack and the clock's dull tick 
 
 Are the only sounds I hear, 
 And over my soul in its solitude, 
 
 Sweet feelings of sadness glide ; 
 For my heart and my eyes are full when I think 
 
 Of the little boy that died. 
 
 I went one night to my father's house — 
 
 Went home to the dear ones all, 
 And softly I opened the garden gate, 
 
 And softly the door of the hall. 
 My mother came out to meet her son — 
 
 She Wssed me, and then she sighed, 
 And her head fell on my neck, and she wept 
 
 For the little boy that died. 
 
 I shall miss him when the flowers come 
 
 In the garden where he played ; 
 I shall miss him more in the winter time, 
 
 When the flowers have all decayed. 
 I shall see his toys and his empty chair, 
 
 And the horse he used to ride ; 
 And they will speak with a silent speech, 
 
 Of the little boy that died. 
 
 I shall see his little sister again 
 
 With her playmates about the door ; 
 And I'll watch the children in their sports. 
 
 As I never did before ; 
 And if, in the group, I see a child 
 
 That's dimpled and laughing-eyed, 
 I'll look to see if it may not be 
 
 The little boy that died. 
 
 We shall all go home to our Father's house — 
 To our Father's house in the skies, 
 
184 THE ANGEL SISTER. 
 
 Where the hope of our souls shall have no blight, 
 
 Our love no broken ties ; 
 We shall roam on the banks of the River of Peace, 
 
 And bathe in its blissful tide ; 
 And one of the joys of our heaven shall be — 
 
 The little boy that died. 
 
 THE ANGEL SISTER 
 
 BY MUS. SARAH W. BROOKS. 
 
 We had a little sister — 
 
 Her eyes were blue and fair, 
 
 And golden in the sunshine, 
 Were the ringlets of her haj^-. 
 
 All day among the blossoms. 
 We danced away the hours, 
 
 And then we thought her fairer 
 Than all the summer flowers. 
 
 But when the roses opened. 
 And skies were blue and deep, 
 
 The little one was weary — 
 And we laid her down to sleep 
 
 We have a little sister — 
 We cannot see her now — 
 
 Who walks in snowy garments, 
 With glory on her brow ! 
 
 Her eyes are clear and strong. 
 And shining are her wings, 
 
 And angel-ones have taught her 
 The pleasant song she sings. 
 
 Her grave is white with daisies, 
 
 But far away on high 
 We have a little sister 
 
 Whose home is in the sky! 
 
QUACKERY AT COXSTANTIXOPLE. 
 
 185 
 
 QUACKERY AT CO:N^STANTmOPLE. 
 
 r^ HEY have quacks in Turkey, it seems, as well as 
 ^ here in the United States. A "recent traveler 
 gives the following amusing and instructive ac- 
 count of the proceedings of a quack in Constan- 
 tinople : 
 One day, as we were passing through one of the most 
 frequented galleries of the great Bazaar — one of those 
 main arteries of commerce, where dervishes and tale-tellers, Alba- 
 nian dancers and snake-charmers from Egypt, jostle the regular 
 traiBckers and porters — we observed a knot of persons formed 
 around a venerable-looking man in a loose robe and lofty turban of 
 green silk, who was engaged in trampling upon a sick man with 
 dim eyes and sunken cheeks, stretched upon the pavement. The 
 first idea that presented itself to our puzzled minds was naturally 
 that the old man in the green kalpack was triumphing over a 
 vanquished enemy ; but this supposition was refuted by the first 
 glimpse of the anxious and sym23athizing faces of the bystanders. 
 The dragoman soon explained the mystery. It appeared that the 
 old gentleman in the green turban was a celebrated magician or 
 enchanter ; and, as wizards are neither roasted nor pelted in Mo- 
 hammedan countries, was equally respected for his cabalistic pow- 
 ers, and his being a most learned Mussulman, doctor and divine, 
 famous as a preacher and controversialist, and, moreover, so holv a 
 man, that it was expected he would one day be graced bv the 
 honors of canonization. Such was the Emir Abdallah, Xazir-Ed- 
 Deen, prior of the dervishes of Brousa, who was so busily engao-ed 
 in treading upon the poor, shivering invalid, whose ailments the 
 pressure of his sanctified and slipperless foot was to cure. Many 
 Moslems at the foot of the grave were said to have been kicked 
 
186 THE KING AND THE MILLER. 
 
 back again by that wonderful foot. It may have been so. Amaz- 
 ing is the power of imagination. The prior of the Brousa dervishes 
 is neither better nor W'Orse than his brother quacks in Europe. 
 Yet he w^as infinitely more picturesque than the sprucest doctor 
 that ever puffed a medicinal water or a pin's-head pill ; and cer- 
 tainly, as he stood proudly erect with his wand grasped in his out- 
 stretched hand, his lonc^ white beard and toweriiifr turban mvinof a 
 look of majesty to his inassive features, and his ample robe floating 
 about him in the breeze like a hurricane of green silk, he looked 
 as superb a necromancer as Prospero himself. The bystanders 
 looked on with awe-struck faces, reverently watching the proceed- 
 ings of the magician ; the patient looked confiding and hopeful. 
 The solemnity of the operator's bearing defied desci-iption ; but 
 close by stood a ragged little copper-colored dervish wearing a very 
 high white felt hat with a green rag wound about it, who watched 
 the scene with scornful unbelief twinkling in his cunning little black 
 eyes, and incredulity grinning from the corners of his malicious 
 little mouth, garnished with yellow fimgs and graced by a perpet- 
 ual dog's smile of knowingness and crafty malignity. 
 
 THE KING AND THE MILLER. 
 
 Frederick the Great, King of Prussia, was annoyed by the clat- 
 ter of a w^ind-mill near his summer palace at Potsdam, and deter- 
 mined to put an end to it. He sent word to the owner that he 
 wanted to take it down, and would pay a thousand thalers for it. 
 The owner replied that his majesty could not have it, as he would 
 not sell it. The king's answer was, that he would have if, and 
 that he should take it down by virtue of his royal prerogative. 
 " He had better not," said the owner to the oflScer ; " for thanks 
 be to God, there is law to be had in Prussia. As sure as you do, 
 so sure will I sue his majesty." 
 
 This had the desired effect. The king afterwards bought the mill 
 from the heirs. It is still kept up as a standing monument that in 
 Prussia the humblest citizen has redress in law even against the king. 
 
THE ASCENT OF MOUNT IIECLA. 
 
 187 
 
 THE ASCEXT OF MOUNT HECLA. 
 
 N excellent modern work, entitled "A Journey to 
 
 Iceland," contains an account of Mount Hecla, which 
 
 I am sure will entertain my readers. The gentle- 
 
 Jr" man who made the ascent says it is attended with 
 
 P quite as much toil and inconvenience as that of Vesuvius. 
 Climbing Hecla is pretty hard work, then — I can answer 
 for that. But I will let the traveler tell his story in his own words : 
 
 The road led at first through rich fields, and then across the 
 patches of black sand, which are surrounded on all sides by streams, 
 hills, and hillocks of lava, whose fearful masses gradually approach 
 each other, and frequently afford no other passage than a narrow 
 defile, where we scrambled over the blocks and piles with scarcely 
 a spot to rest our feet. The lava rolled around and behind us, and 
 it was necessary to be constantly on the watch to prevent ourselves 
 from stumbling, or to avoid coming in contact with the rolling 
 rocks. But the danger was even greater in the gorges filled with snow, 
 already softened by the heat of the season ; where we frequently broke 
 through, or, what was worse, slid backwards at every step almost as 
 far as we had advanced. I do not believe there is another mountain 
 in the world, whose ascent offers as many difficulties as this one. 
 
 After a toilsome struggle of three hours and a half, we reached 
 the place where it became necessary to leave the horses behind ; 
 which I should have done long before, as I felt compassion for the 
 poor animals, if my Hecla guide would have allowed it ; but he 
 maintained that there were still spots where we might need them, 
 and advised me, moreover, to ride as long as possible, in order to 
 reserve my sti-ength for what was still before me. My guide as- 
 sured me that he had never led any one so far on horseback, and I 
 readily believe it. The walking was already horrible ; but to ride 
 was fearful 1 From every height new scenes of the most melancholy 
 
188 THE ASCENT OF MOUNT HECLA. 
 
 desolation appeared in sight ; the whole prospect rigid and inani- 
 mate ; and burnt, black lava was spread around us wherever we 
 looked. It was not without a painful sensation that I gazed about 
 me, and' saw nothing but the immeasurable chaos of this stony 
 desert. We had still three heights to climb ; they were the last, 
 but also the most perilous. The road led abruptly over the rocks 
 by which the whole summit was covered ; I had more falls than I 
 could count, and frequently tore my hands on the sharp points of 
 lava. It was, to be sure, a terrible expedition. The dazzling white- 
 ness of the snow was almost blinding, contrasted with the shining 
 black lava alongside of it. When I had to cross a field of snow, 
 I did not venture to look at the lava ; for I had tried it once, and 
 could hardly see in consequence. I was snow-blind. 
 
 At last the summit was attained, after two more hours of labo- 
 rious climbing, and I stood upon the highest peak of Hecla ; but I 
 looked in vain for a crater — there was no trace of any to be found ; 
 at which I was all the more astonished, as I had read minute ac- 
 counts of it in several b(^oks of travel. I walked around the whole 
 summit of the mountain, and clambered to the Jokul (pronounced 
 yokul) which lies next to it; but still I saw no opening or crev- 
 ice, no sunken wall, or any sign whatever, in fact, of a crater. 
 Much lower down on the sides of the mountain, I found some 
 wide rents and chinks, from which the streams of lava must 
 have flowed. Tlie height of this mountain is said to be four thou- 
 sand three hundred feet. I despair of conveying to my readers a 
 distinct idea of the immense waste which lay displayed before me, 
 with its accumulated masses of lava, and its peculiar appearance 
 of lifeless desolation. I seemed to stand in the midst of an ex- 
 hausted fire. The blocks were piled in heaps above each other, 
 till they formed high hills ; the valleys were choked by vast streams 
 of rock, whose length and breadth I was not able to distinguish, 
 although the course of the last eruption could be plainly traced 
 among them. I was surrounded by the most dreadful ravines, 
 caves, streams, hills, and valleys. I could hardly understand how 
 I had reached this point, and was seized with a feeling of horror 
 at the thought which forced itself upon me, that perhaps I might 
 never be able to find my way out of this terrible labyrinth of ruin. 
 
WHO PLAYED THE OEGAX ? 189 
 
 That peculiar glossy, coal-black, shining lava, which is never po- 
 rous, is only found at Hecla and in its immediate vicinity ; but the 
 other varieties, jagged, porous, and vitrified, are also seen there, 
 though they are always black, as well as the sand which covers 
 one side of the mountain. As the distance from this volcano in- 
 creases, the lava loses that remarkable jet-black color, and assumes 
 an iron-gray, or perhaps a little lighter, though it sometimes re- 
 tained the gloss and brilliancy of the black. 
 
 WHO PLAYED THE ORGAN? 
 
 The following is a reprint of a very quaint story, as it appears in 
 the Melbourne Argus : Mr. I. Blewitt, who has been always cele- 
 brated, from the early age of eleven, for his extemporaneous per- 
 formance on the organ, on one particular occasion attracted the 
 notice of the celebrated Samuel Wesley, who, after expressing his 
 admiration of the superior style of his performance to some of his 
 friends near him, and not being able to satisfy himself who the per- 
 former was, considered it best to apply to the man who blew the 
 organ. He appealed to this great functionary, and putting the sim- 
 ple question to him of " "Who played the organ ?" received the 
 following laconic answer : " I blew it !" Wesley, considering this 
 a great liberty of this mighty puffer, repeated the question of 
 " Who played the organ ?" when he received the same answer, 
 given with greater pertness. W^esley, indignant at the fellow's 
 seeming rudeness, said : " I do not, sir, doubt your ability as a blow- 
 bellows, but I wish to know (giving an imitation with his fingers, 
 being himself the greatest organist of the day) who played the or- 
 gan ?" The wag still persisted, saying, " This is the third time, sir, I 
 have told you, I blew it ; and I will tell you no further." Then put- 
 ting on his great coat he left the gallery. Wesley, when he got to 
 the door, inquired of some of his friends — who played the organ ? 
 and seeing the wit of this facetious fellow, turned round and gave him 
 a sliilliug, saying, " You are the best pufl:er I ever met with ; and 
 no man is better qualified to handle such a subject." 
 
190 
 
 THE EDITOR'S TABLE TALK. 
 
 THE EDITOR'S TABLE TALK. 
 
 Cl^lli^ 
 
 AVE you been to the Crystal Palace, reader ? It 
 lias, from the day it was opened until the present 
 time, been growing more and more interesting. I 
 suppose that nearly all the articles for which space has been 
 reserved in the building have now arrived, and are in their 
 places. The palace has for some weeks been opened in 
 the evening ; and you ought to see what a splendid appeaiance it 
 presents by the light of thousands of gas-burners. You would 
 pinch yourselves, for aught I know, were you to visit the palace in 
 the evening, to see whether you were really awake, or whether you 
 were not dreaming of a palace of enchantment. 
 
 Our friend S. N. — " where is she ?" This is a question which 
 of late has come to me from every quarter of the — globe, I was 
 about to say, but, upon second thought, I recollect that I have not 
 yet heard from Central Africa and China on this subject — from 
 every quarter of the Union. Alas, reader ! I don't know. She 
 left these parts, intending to be absent on a long excursion, last 
 spring. I heard from her once. She was gradually retreating 
 from the confines of civilization then ; and from the fact that I have 
 heard nothing since, I don't know but I'm justified in the inference 
 that she has penetrated into the very depths of Terra Incognita, 
 far beyond the reach of mails, and that she has taken up her resi- 
 dence in that 
 
 " lodge in some vast wilderness, 
 
 Some boundless contiguity of shade," 
 
 which editors sometimes sigh for, but which, I believe, they seldom 
 find. Well, I only hope she is enjoying herself so much amusing 
 
THE editor's table TALK. 191 
 
 and instructing others, that she does not find time to contribute 
 to our amusement and instruction, as I am sure she loves to do. 
 I know she is not idle, wlierever she is ; that's one consolation. I 
 do believe, that were she in the regions of perpetual ice, searching 
 after poor John Franklin — and she may be there, for aught I know — 
 she would at once find the means of furnishing some instructive 
 amusement to the polar bears in their long winter evenings. 
 
 " Uncle Frank, I send you herewith a riddle for publication. Be 
 so good as to put it into the next number of the Cabinet.^'' My 
 dear little fellow. Uncle Frank will be so good as to do no such 
 thing, for a great many reasons, but chiefly because about forty 
 or fifty boys and girls, more or less, have got before you, and have 
 made very much the same request. The world is not quite so im- 
 patient to get a sight at that riddle as you suppose, and I'll use 
 my influence to persuade it (the world) to wait a while. 
 
 And since we are dipping into this matter of enigmas, I want to 
 make a statement for your benefit. So hark ! Enigma-makers will 
 please to take notice, that an enigma is incomplete, and conse- 
 quently inadmissible, when one or more of the letters in the en- 
 tire word or sentence chosen, are not indicated. 
 
 And this last sentence I want you to scan very closely, as well on 
 account of its g-rammatical construction as on account of its bearino- 
 on the spinning and weaving of enigmas. I have often, when 
 writing, come to such a form of expression as this ; and after pro- 
 ceeding half way with it, drawn my pen across it, and changed its 
 entire form. The truth is, it is not strictly good grammar, though 
 the construction is frequently allowed. When we come to apply 
 the touch-stone of Murray to it, we find that it is slightly lame in 
 one of its limbs, and halts a little. Now, my kind little friend, will 
 you oblige me by changing the form of that sentence so that it 
 shall still read smoothly and at the same time bo strictly gram- 
 matical ? Try your hand at it, and let me have the result. 
 
 The correspondent who asks about the solution of the riddle 
 from Willis Gaylord Clark's " Remains," published in the January 
 
192 
 
 number of the Cabinet, is informed that no satisfactory answer has 
 been heard of in these parts, and that some sceptical people are 
 doubting if there be an answer. 
 
 RECENT PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 1. Messrs. A. S. Barnes & Co. of this city, have recently brouo^ht 
 out the Youth's Manual of Geography, combined with history 
 and astronomy, designed for the use of junior and intermediate 
 classes in public and private schools. It is liberally and appropri- 
 ately illustrated, and for an elementary work it seems to be just 
 the thing which is needed. 
 
 2. The same house have also published, during the summer, the 
 Teacher and Parent, which is a treatise, written in a very happy 
 style, upon common school education, and. contains practical sug- 
 gestions of value to teachers and parents. It is the work t)f Charles 
 Northend, Superintendent of public schools in Danvers, Mass. 
 
 3. The Abridged History of the United States, also published by 
 A. S. Barnes & Co. from the pen of Mrs. Willard, I regard as the 
 best book in its department which I liave had the pleasure of ex- 
 amining. 
 
 4. Maplcton is the title of a book published by Messi-s. Lewis 
 Colby <fe Co. of this city. It is a pretty story, illustrating the evils 
 of intemperance. 
 
 J. S. Redfield has recently brought out a duodecimo volume 
 entitled Lorenzo Benoni ; or Passages in the Life of an Italian. 
 How much the writer has drawn from the field of imagination, in 
 this account of himself, does not appear. But so much as this is 
 true of it — that it possesses almost the thrilling interest of " Jane 
 Eyre," at the same time that it affords a capital sketch of real life 
 among the Italians. I do not at all wonder at the great popu- 
 larity it has already achieved for itself. 
 
 6. Household Words is the title of a family magazine, edited by 
 Dickens, published weekly in England, and monthly in the United 
 States, by M'Elrath & Barker, at two dollars a year. It is an exceed- 
 ingly well-conducted journal. Every article in it is valuable. 1 
 scarcely know of a magazine which embraces so many good things 
 in so small a compass and at so little cost. 
 
THE PUZZLERS DRAWER. 193 
 
 THE PUZZLEE'S DKAWER. 
 
 The enigmatical department of the September number of the 
 Cabinet must have been pretty difficult, I fancy. At all events, 
 very few of my readers have sent answers to the puzzles contained 
 in that number ; and two or three of those which have been sent 
 are incorrect. You must bestir yourselves, boys and girls. You 
 must not on any account allow this department to flag for want of 
 interest and attention on your part. When I saw what a small 
 number of answers had been sent in for this month, I at first 
 thought I would print the answers " on my own hook," and so 
 spoil all the fun of the little folks who are so fond of puzzling their 
 brains over these things. But second thoughts are sometimes best, 
 you know, and, upon reflection, that did seem to be almost too se- 
 vere a punishment to my delinquent friends. So I have determined 
 not to publish any of the answers in this number, but to give you 
 all a longer time to try your wisdom over them. You may expect 
 to see the result of your wisdom in this direction, provided you 
 please to enlighten the editor thereupon, in the November number 
 of the Cabinet. 
 
 And by the way, I purpose very soon oftering some more pre- 
 miums for the best things in the way of puzzles. So be sure you 
 get your wit sharpened in season. 
 
 THE PRIZE CHARADE IN VERSE. 
 
 ETTA,' OF ALTON, ILL. 
 
 My Jirst the worn mariner hails with delight, 
 For his ship has been battling the tempest all night, 
 And now, with loose cable and closely-furled sail, 
 She is riding at anchor, defying the gale. 
 
 My 7iext is a vowel of euphonous sound, 
 But apply not to me, for with you it is found; 
 My third is the half of a measure, sajis doute, 
 Whether liquid or tiim "the deponent saith not" 
 'OL. LV. "^ 
 
194 
 
 THE puzzler's DRAWER. 
 
 My whole is a kingdom — but is it the clime 
 
 Of the grape and the myrtle, the orange and lime? 
 
 Or is it the region of reindeer and snows, 
 
 Where the Northern liffhts (rleam with a blush like the rose 
 
 doct puzzle. 
 
 Here are two dead dogs. They 
 are both "as dead as a hatchet,'' 
 as you see. Well, I want yon to bring 
 them to life again, and make them run 
 as if they were chasing a fox. I want 
 you should do all this, too — mind 
 that! — ly the addition of tico lines 
 only to the picture. Can you do it? 
 
 BUDGET OF ANAGRAMS NO. II. 
 
 1. Time ends rage. 5. I cheat, sir! 
 
 2. Wild glen. 6. Past ruin. 
 
 3. My curer. 7. I stir up man. 
 
 4. Wet hare. 8. Pure wolf. a. s. c. 
 
 riddle no. v. 
 
 I love the dim old forest shade, 
 
 Where giant oaks their branches rear; 
 
 And when the merry leaflets fade, 
 I light the darkness of the year. 
 
 I seek not lordly mansion bold. 
 
 Where wealth and pride together cling 
 
 But 'tis to some dear cottage old. 
 The air of cheerfulness I bring. 
 
 The sunbeams chase me o'er the rocks, 
 Or on the village churchyard wall ; 
 
 Time weaves me in his hoary locks, 
 And we'll together stand or fall. 
 
 I slumber on the ruined tower, 
 
 O'er shattered battlements I brood ! 
 
 I haunt the wrecks of useless power, 
 And court the bliss of solitude. 
 
THE puzzler's DRAWER. 195 
 
 Yet on the snow-capped Alpine height, 
 
 Where freezing winds breathe death around, 
 I dwell secure, nor feel the blight, 
 
 With ever-blooming beauty crowned. 
 
 « 
 Still on the stormy Iceland coast, 
 
 And where green Erin lifts her head, 
 A nobler, lovelier home I boast. 
 
 With ocean's glories round me spread. 
 
 Fair reader, would you like to know 
 
 The name I first from Adam took 1 
 I have not anything to show; 
 
 Go, ask confectioner or cook. estelle. 
 
 RIDDLE NO. VI. 
 
 Dear Mr. Woodworth, — If any "children of larger growth" ever 
 read your enigmas and puzzles — and I suspect the children sometimes 
 get such help — perhaps some one of them will solve the following rid- 
 dle. I have tried it often and long, and cannot solve it, or hear of any 
 one who can. It was taken from the N. Y. Express some years since, 
 but the editor could or would never (so far as I know, and I am a con- 
 stant reader of that paper,) publish the answer. Please publish it. I 
 want to know if it has an answer. Here it is: 
 
 And yet in an orchestra never have been : 
 I'm a bird of bright plumage, yet less like a bird, 
 
 Nothing in Nature ever was seen — 
 Touching earth I expire, in water I die. 
 In air I lose breath, yet can swim and can fly ! 
 Darkness destroys me, and light is my death; 
 You can't keep me alive without stopping my breath. 
 If my name can't be guessed by a boy or a man, 
 By a girl or a woman it certainly can! 
 
 H. H. PENNIMAN. 
 ENIGMA NO. VI. 
 
 My whole is a motto each boy should repeat 
 
 When difficult tasks are assigned him. 
 With this, self-denial may seem even sweety 
 
 And labor no sluggard will find him. 
 
196 THE puzzler's drawer. 
 
 My third, fourth, and fifth, with my second their van. 
 
 Will grow, and if rightly directed, 
 A blessing will prove, when the boy is a man — 
 
 AVill make him beloved and respected. 
 
 If 'stead of this motto, " I can't" is his choice, 
 
 The boy from his duty thus shrinking. 
 My sixth and my seventh and eighth stay their voice, 
 
 While wanes not my first in his t+iinking ? laura. 
 
 NAMES OF COUNTIES IN THE WESTERN STATES, ENIGMATICALLY 
 EXPRESSED. 
 
 1. A word signifying angry, a pronoun, and a descendant. 
 
 2. A plait or fold, and a portion of the body. 
 
 3. The name of a planet, and a large room. 
 
 4. Curved, and a word signifying upon. 
 6. A color, and a bird of prey. 
 
 6. To gather, and a word signifying at a distance. 
 
 7. A piece of unhewed wood, and an adjective denoting one. 
 
 S. T. R. 
 
 >^ 
 
 REBUS NO. II. 
 
 What month by the insertion of one of the vowels in the name of 
 which, without disarranging the original order of its letters, will spell 
 the name of a city in New England ? s. t. r. 
 
 CHARADE NO. III. 
 
 Eleven letters form my name, 
 
 But as I would not show the same, 
 
 I now intend to puzzle ye, 
 
 Then find me out and you shall see 
 
 The letter I of me is part, 
 
 And it is placed quite near my heart ; 
 
 Seven of my letters mean to join ; 
 
 Three more to part asunder ; 
 My whole it is a country fine — 
 
 Can't you find out this wonder ? 
 And though my name distortion wear, 
 
 I yet long time have been 
 Famous for order everywhere ; 
 
 Guess me, 'twill soon be seen. 
 
BLOWING one's own THUMPET. 
 
 197 
 
 1 4 ^^^^ 
 
 BLOWma ONE'S OWN TKUMPET. 
 
 How common a thing it is, in these days, to meet with a man 
 blowing his own trumpet. " Let another praise thee," is the lan- 
 guage of Scripture. But thousands of people, in this age of steam 
 and lightning, are in too great a hurry to wait for their neighbors 
 to give them a lift ; so they set to and praise themselves. It is a 
 pretty cheap way of getting fame, this of blowing one's own trum- 
 pet. The old-fashioned mode was rather expensive. It took a 
 good while, moreover, to bring it about. Formerly, a man had to 
 live long years to get his name written in large characters in the 
 scroll of histor}'^, and to work pretty hard for it at that. Howard 
 did not get a world-wide reputation for philanthropy until he 
 " shuffled oft' this mortal coil." Shakspeare was regarded as rather 
 a small pattern for a poet, while he lived. So was Milton, I be- 
 lieve. Galileo, to whose tomb at Florence we all make reverent 
 pilgrimages now, was little better than a crack-brained fanatic in 
 his day and generation. These worthies, you see, had not learned 
 the art of blowing their own trumpets. It used to be tho^ight in 
 old times, that " self-praise is no praise at all." Many, in the sim- 
 
198 BLOwiis'G one's own trumpet. 
 
 plicity of tlieir liearts, thougbt tliat a man might as easily lift 
 himself up by tiigofing at his waistbands, as propel himself fame- 
 ward by a blast of his own trumpet. Things are different now. 
 In the "march of intellect," which we hear so much about, it is 
 discovered in certain quarters that fame, to be enjoyed, must be had 
 while one is living — tliat it is not worth a rush after he is dead. 
 W<11, there is something in that, to be sure. How much more 
 comfoitable it would have been for some of the English poets, for 
 example, if some of the sovereigns which have been expended for 
 stones in i-aising a monument for them, had been laid out in bread 
 for their mouths, while they were in the flesh. There is something 
 to be said on the other side, though. Those who spend their 
 breath in blowing themselves into fame in their own day, stand 
 but little chance of being famous when they stop blowing. 
 
 This train of remark was suggested by a veritable incident which 
 I will relate to you, and which may cause you some astonishment. 
 I had written a b(jok. There is not much merit implied in that 
 fact ; foi- books are as plenty now as the frogs were in Egypt once 
 on a time, and some of the books are more mischievous than those 
 frogs were. Well, it is customary for authors, when one of their 
 bouks is issued, to present a copy to the principal newspaper edi- 
 tors. That is for the purpose of giving the book currency with the 
 public. So, not to be Leliind my brother authors, I distributed my 
 book freely amonnr the conductors of the i)ress. Meetino^, a few 
 days afterwards, otw of the editors to whom I had forwarded a 
 copy, he accosted me with the remark, that he had received such 
 a book from me. Yes, I leplied, I had done myself the honor of 
 sending him the book. " And why did you not send a notice of 
 the book at the same time?" Being a little " verdant" in such 
 matters, I hardly knew what the question implied, when the editor^ 
 seeing my embarrassment, said he should be most happy to insert* 
 such a criticism on the book as I chose to write, and expressed a 
 hope that I would save him the trouble of such a notice, by] 
 preparing one myself. When I intimated to him that I chose 
 disinterested criticisms on the merits of my books, and that I die 
 hot wish to blow my own trumpet in that style, he actually laughec 
 in my face. " Pooh !" he exclaimed, " the thing is done every^ 
 
THE XEW BOOTS. 199 
 
 day among us. Nothing is more common than for us to publish a 
 column of book notices every line of which is written either by the 
 author or his publislier. And" — he said this with a loud laugh — 
 "if the man that made the book don't know what there is in it, who 
 should?" In justice to the editorial profession, I ought to say, 
 perhaps, that the number of editors who carry about with them 
 such a kind of India-rubber conscience as this one exhibited, is 
 somewhat limited ; and let us hope, too, that there are not many 
 authors so hard-pushed for fame as to make use of such a tool 
 as this man to aid them ; though I do remember once receiving a 
 " puff" which an author sent me of one of his own books. The puff 
 cried up the new book as a most extraordinary production, destined 
 to astonish the world by its excellence. The author, in this puff, 
 set himself down as a prodigy of learning and wit, who was likely 
 to eclipse all the aspirants to literary fame since Noah's day ; and 
 the simple-hearted man added in a note, that if I coincided in the 
 judgment he had expressed, he would be much obliged by my 
 publishing the critique he sent me in my magazine. " And did 
 you publish the notice V I hear you inquire. No, reader, far 
 from it. 
 
 THE NEW BOOTS. 
 
 A LITTLE boy who was very vain, had a pair of boots purchased 
 for him by his parents. It was his first pair, and he was very 
 fond of showing them. The little fellov^r would draw up his pan- 
 taloons, and display the whole of his boots ; then walk up and 
 down the room, with his eyes now on the shining leather, and now 
 upon a friend of his father's who was present ; but it was a boot*- 
 less effort. At length, however, he succeeded. Sitting in front 
 of both, he exclaimed, " Father, ain't three times two six ?" "Yes, 
 my son." " Well then," said he, pointing to each of their feet, 
 " if three times two is six, there are just six hoots in this room. 
 
200 
 
 A WEEK IN FLOEENCE. 
 
 A WEEK IN FLOKENCE. 
 
 la^i^^ 
 
 ARRIVED at Florence on the 30th day of March, liav- 
 ing spent the day before among the far-famed wonders 
 of Pisa. All the way from Leghorn we passed 
 ^ ^' through charming scenery. The route lies, for the 
 '\ most part, through the vale of the Arno. I could not help 
 half regretting that our mode of traveling was by steam 
 rather than horses. I don't love to be whirled through a 
 beautiful country at the rate of twenty miles an hour. The course 
 of the Arno is very nearly west. It owes its existence to the little 
 streams that flow down the western slope of the Apennines. It is 
 one of the most beautiful rivers in Italy, and waters one of the 
 finest valleys upon which the sun ever shone. Leghorn does not 
 lie exactly at the mouth of the Arno, but a little south of it ; so 
 that the course of the railway to Pisa is about north-east, instead 
 of east, though from the latter city it follows the course of the 
 river to Florence. 
 
 As you pass along through the vale of the Arno, you can see 
 plainly enough whaWlre the principal products of the soil in this 
 part of the country. Vineyards, acres upon acres in extent, stretch 
 over a great part of the valley. The grape here, as in many other" 
 portions of Italy — all the way between Milan and Venice, for ex- 
 ample — is trained in a very diflerent manner from that most pur- 
 sued in France and in the valley of the Rhine. Mulberry trees, 
 for the use of the silkworm, are planted in the vineyards, and the 
 vines are trained upon these trees instead of a trellis or short stake. 
 The branches of the mulberry trees are cut off every season to pre- 
 vent the grapes from climbing too high, so that they have a dwarfed 
 and stunted appearance, not very pleasing to the traveler unused 
 to such deformity. 
 
 When the carriage which we took at the railway station, just 
 outside the w^alls of Florence, stopped at the gate of the city, a 
 
A WEEK IX FLORENCE. 201 
 
 greasy, wo-begone looking specimen of flesh and blood jumped upon 
 the back of the vehicle, notwithstanding our admonitions to the 
 central y, and rode with us to our hotel — the Hotel du JSFord. 
 This hotel was one of the best in the city they told us, though I 
 afterwards learned that the Hotel de JSTew York — don't you think 
 a pilgrim from this Knickerbocker city of ours might be pardoned 
 for feeling a little vain, when he reads the name of this hotel on 
 the sign ? — was a much better one, and so, when I subsequently 
 visited Florence, I drove to the New York Hotel. The greasy- 
 looking individual wdio invited, himself to ride to our lodgings — 
 who do you think he was ; and what business had he in such a 
 position ? That chap, please to be informed, is the facchino. 
 "And pray what is ^ facchino P"" A very important personage, 
 without whom the baggage on a coach might remain there half a 
 century, for aught I know. His business is to carry baggage to a 
 hotel, or from it ; to lift one's trunk from the top of a diligence, so 
 that a custom-house officer can examine it, and then to lift it up 
 again ; or if a man happens to be traveling without any baggage, 
 to open the door of his vehicle for him, when he gets in or out of 
 it. " A very kind and accommodating personage, surely." Aye, 
 and he performs all his kind acts voluntarily. Nobody ever asks 
 him to lift a finger in his service. Your genuine facchino always 
 appoints himself, and installs himself into office. Sometimes two 
 or three — I have known as many as six — will crowd around one's 
 carriage, at the same time. " Oh, what pests these creatures must 
 ■be !" Not at all, unless you choose so to regard them. You 
 must take Italy as it is, not as it should be. You must learn to 
 look upon all such features as this in Italian life as so many taxes 
 which you are to pay for your sight-seeing ; and instead of losing 
 your temper over them, as so many Englishmen and Americans do, 
 a much better wvay is to fall in with them, and laugh rather than 
 fret and scold. Why, if a traveler in Italy should stop to give vent 
 to his indignation every time he sees or hears anything discordant 
 with his notions of propriety, he would have little else to busy him- 
 self about, and he might much better have staid at home. If there 
 should be an army of these self-appointed ragamuffins around you 
 as large as Hannibal's, you need only select one. All the rest will 
 
 VOL. IV. 9* NR 
 
202 A WEEK IN FLORENCE. 
 
 quietly go away, and try the leeching process on some other trav- 
 eler. The one you retain does his duty well enough. He is a 
 necessary evil — not altogether an evil, neither; for somebody must 
 lift your trunk or carpet-bag from the coach or diligence, and carry 
 it up ever so many flights ^ stairs at the hotel — and if the fac- 
 chino did not do the job, who would ? Not the conductor of the 
 diligence or coach. Such a degrading piece of work is so abhor- 
 rent to his sensitive soul, that he almost faints at the very idea of 
 it. Not the driver. He has his horses to manage, and that t;isk 
 is sometimes a little more than he can perform. Not the porter at 
 the hotel. " And why not the porter ?" For the very best reason 
 in the world, because there is no such person connected with the 
 establishment. Then the facchino is not so much of an evil after 
 all ; and what better thing can a peaceable, quiet, good-natured 
 man do, than just surrender his baggage to the imperious little 
 Italian, and when the work is done, without grudging or grumbling, 
 give him a few coppers for his trouble ? The taxes this class of 
 people levy on us are, after all, computed in dollars and cents, but 
 very small. 
 
 Florence, in painting and sculpture, is the richest city in the 
 world. The famous Venus de Medici, as everybody knows, is here. 
 This piece of statuary, with many others of rare beauty, is in the 
 Imperial Gallery. The apartment in which the Venus stands is 
 called the Tribune, and was completed under the reign of the Medi- 
 cian family, by Cosmo II., in IGIO. The cupola of this apartment 
 is splendidly incrusted or inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The pave- 
 ment is of the richest marble. When this Venus was chiseled and 
 by whom, no one knows. The most we are sure of in relation to 
 it is, that it is very ancient, and that it is the noblest specimen of the 
 sculptor's art in the world. The feet and hands have been broken 
 at ditferent times, and very little of the original work in these parts 
 of the figure now remains. But, patched as it is, no one, with 
 tolerable notions of this art, can fail to see that it is a work for any 
 artist or any age to be proud of. 
 
 Speaking of sculpture and sculptors, reminds me of an e.vceedingly 
 pleasant visit I made one day to the studio of lliram Powers, one 
 of our own countrymen, who has been at work with his chisel in 
 
A WEEK IN FLORENCE. 203 
 
 Florence for several years, and who lias achieved for himself a 
 world-wide reputation as an artist. I had no letter of introduction 
 to Mr. Powers. But he received me, on the simple announcement 
 of my name and place of residence, with all the cordiality of an 
 old acquaintance. I felt reluctant to occupy any of the time which 
 I knew must be so valuable to him. But he stopped me in the 
 midst of an apology, by sayino-, bluntly — for there is very little of 
 what our Irish neighbors call blarney about him — " Never mind 
 the apologies ; I'm always at leisure when I have a call from an 
 American." And so he stopped cutting away at a mammoth block 
 of marble, showed me all over his studio, told me what he was 
 doing, and what he was going to do, and gave me quite an insight 
 into a branch of mechanical skill of which I had, up to that time, 
 known almost nothing. I shall never forget one anSwer he made 
 to a question of mine, as exhibiting his excellent common sense, 
 and his freedom from the trammels of the schools. " Pray, sir," I 
 asked, perhaps too inquisitively, " do sculptors, in such works as 
 your Greek Slave and Proserpine, measure by feet and inches, in 
 order to get the proper proportions of the different; parts ?" " It is 
 contrary to rule, I believe," said he, with a smile, " to measure in 
 our art. But I always choose to be accurate ratlier than scientific." 
 After this visit to the studio of Mr. Powers, I became acquainted 
 with his wife and family, and spent some very pleasant hours in 
 their society. In this connection, too, I must not forget to tell you 
 how much my enjoyment was increased while in the city, by my 
 intercourse with ^Ir. Ross Brown, author of " Yusef," and his f^lm- 
 ilv, who were residents there at the time. Mr. Brown had just then 
 returned from the Holy Land, and was weaving the incidents of his 
 tour into a book, which he afterwards published under the title of 
 " Yusef," and which, I need not add, have given him a veiy exten- 
 sive popularity. 
 
 Among the churches of Florence — and there are scores of them — 
 the most magnificent is the Catliedral. This edifice, like the Ca- 
 thedral at Pisa, and some others built in the middle ages, is com- 
 posed of three parts — the Cathedral proper, the baptistery, and the 
 canipaiiile, or bell tower. The "leaning tower" at Pisa is the bell 
 tower of the great Cathedral there. The Cathedral in Florence has 
 
204 A WEEK IN FLOEENCE. 
 
 the finest dome in the world. The domes of St. Paul's in London, 
 and St. Peter's in Rome, are great works of their kind, but neither 
 of them equals this on the Cathedral in Florence. This wonderful 
 edifice was commenced in 1294. But it took a great many years 
 to build it. The walls are almost entirely cased with marble on 
 the outside. The height, from the pavement to the top of the 
 cross on the dome, is three hundred and eighty seven feet. Giotto, 
 an artist who, you may remember, was the son of a poor shepherd, 
 and was brought to notice by Cimabue, a painter, who found the 
 boy sketching one of his father's sheep, had a hand in planning 
 some portions of the edifice. The campanih was begun by him in 
 1334. The most remarkable things about the baptistery are its 
 three bronze doors. Tliese doors, which are of an enormous size, 
 are all carved on the outside, with minute representations of various 
 scenes, mostly taken from Scripture. Two of them, Michael An- 
 gelo once said, were worthy of being the gates of Paradise. One 
 of the gates was the work of Andrea of Pisa, from designs by 
 Giotto. When this gate was first exhibited, the event was cele- 
 brated throughout all Tuscany as a festival. Tlie rulers of the re- 
 public, who never came forth from the pahice in state, except upon 
 the most important occasions, were present at this exhibition, ac- 
 companied by the ambassadors of the then rival crowns of Naples 
 and of Sicily. The rights of citizenship were granted to the Pisan 
 artist, as tlie highest honor which could be accorded to him. 
 
 In one of the churches I visited, I confess to having been a little 
 amused, as well as edified, by a monkish painting representing the 
 Last Judgment. The pious old painter gave us the Pope, ever so 
 many cardinals, and other ecclesiastics, with ftiithful kings, princes, 
 and nobles, going straiglit up to heaven, at the gate of which St. 
 Peter stood with his keys, ready to let them in. But the way this 
 same Popish painter represented those who dift'ered with the Church 
 in matters of doctrine and politics, was anything but pleasant. 
 
 In a monastery which I visited one day, I was conducted to a 
 laboratory where the monks compounded drugs and perfumes, from 
 the sale of which they derive quite a revenue. They have a large 
 sale-room in the monastery, where, I should think, you can obtain 
 almost anything in the line of perfumery that ever was dreamed of. 
 
A WEEK IX FLORENCE. 205 
 
 I also visited a Dominican convent, connected with the church 
 of St. Maik. This is a very ancient convent, and the most noted, 
 perhaps, in Florence. Savonarola was prior of St. Mark in his 
 days, and the history of this remarkable man is entirely connected 
 with the convent. He was born at Ferrara in 1452. When he 
 was fourteen years old he left his father's house secretly, and en- 
 tered the order of the Dominicans. Several years later he* began 
 to preach at Florence. The style of his preaching was far above 
 the common grade in his day. Perhaps it was on account of this 
 very circumstance that his efforts were quite unsuccessful ; and we 
 find him before he was thirty years old discouraged, and on the 
 eve of abandoning the profession to which he had devoted himself. 
 So he retired to Bologna, and turned his attention to other studies. 
 However, his reputation as a preacher, it would seem, had reached 
 Lorenzo de Medici, and he invited him to return to Florence, and 
 to make that city his permanent home. Sav^onarola accepted the 
 invitation, and began to preach again. This time he was more 
 successful. Crowds came to hear him preach. It was not long 
 before the church where he officiated could not contain the multi- 
 tudes who rushed to hear him. He was emboldened to assume 
 the tone of a prophet, and began to urge, with great vehemence, a 
 reform in the Church. The great mass of the people considered 
 him as divinely inspired, while some ridiculed him as a fanatic, and 
 others still regarded him as an impostor, in league with Satan. He 
 soon broke off all connection with his patron, the illustrious Lo- 
 renzo de Medici, and assailed his character with the bitterest invec- 
 tive. He even prophesied his downfall. It would appear that it 
 was his duty, by virtue of his office as prior of St. Mark's, to visit 
 the head of the republic in the capacity of spiritual adviser. But 
 Savonarola neglected and even refused to make such visits. Lo- 
 renzo went to St. Mark's ; but still the monk refused to see him. 
 When Lorenzo lay on his death-bed he sent for Savonarola, who 
 waited upon him. " Wilt thou believe with a perfect faith ?" 
 asked the bold monk. Lorenzo answered in the affirmative. 
 " Wilt thou, to the utmost of thy power, restoi-e all that thou hast 
 wrongfully acquired ?" was the next question. Lorenzo hesitated 
 a while, but finally promised he would make such a restoration. 
 
206 A WEEK IX FLORENCE. 
 
 " Wilt thou restore Florence to liberty, and to the enjoyment of 
 her popular government, as a free commonwealth ?" was the third 
 question of the stern inquisitor. Lorenzo turned his face away, 
 and spoke not another word. So the interview ended without the 
 blessing of the great Dominican. At that time the Papal chair 
 was occupied by one not very remarkable for the purity of his 
 life, and, as may be supposed, it was difficult for such a man as 
 Savonarola to refrain from raising his voice loudly against the 
 ijnpurity of that monster's court. He was not silent. He de- 
 nounced the Pope and his host. He called upon the faithful to 
 come out of the mystic Babylon. He wrote to the Chiistian princes, 
 declaring that the Church was going to ruin, and that it was their 
 duty to convoke a general council, before which he was ready to 
 prove that the Church was without a head, and that the reigning 
 Pope was not a true bishop, that he had never been worthy of the 
 title, and that, indeed, he was far from being a true genuine Chris- 
 tian. The Pope, in his turn, exc(5mmunicated the monk, and the 
 bull of excommunication was read in the Cathedral at Florence. 
 Still, however, Savonarola continued to preach, and his sermons 
 were as full of invective as ever against those in high places. 
 
 At this time, opposition to him broke out in a new place. The 
 Franciscans began to excite the people against him. They raised 
 a great hue and cry to his disadvantage, boldly proclaiming from 
 the pulpit that he was a heretic, and excommunicated at that. One 
 of the monks of Savonarola's convent oft'ered to prove the truth of 
 his mjister's doctrines. The proof he offered seems ridiculous 
 enough to us in this enlightened age, but in the fourteenth and 
 fifteenth centuries the Komish Church had some queer ways which 
 they have long since abandoned. This monk, Domenico da Rescia 
 by name, proposed to settle the whole affair by a sort of single 
 combat — the two parties having each a champion, and appealing to 
 God to work a miracle for the truth. The champions respectively 
 were to pass through the fire, and the one who escaped uninjured 
 was to be legarded as having the best of the argument. Strange 
 as it may seem to you, the challenge was accepted by the Francis- 
 cans. Domenico was the champion for the party of Savonarola. 
 On the day agreed upon, the Dominican champion, with his mas- 
 
A WEEK IX FLOREXCE. ' 207 
 
 ter, appeared at the place wbei'e tlie solemn tiial was to be made. 
 Tiiey came in great pomp, at the head of an immense procession 
 of their friends, chanting the psalm beginning, " Let God arise, and 
 let his enemies be scattered." The Franciscan champion also pre- 
 sented himself. The fire was kindled. Domenico was on the point 
 of rushing into it, bearing the host in his hands. But the excited 
 multitude declared that it would be a profanation of the symbol of 
 Christ's death to subject it to the fiery ordeal. Domenico persisted 
 in his determination to take the host with him into the flames, or 
 to abandon the whole thing. This little dispute bi'oke up the 
 silly experiment. But the course matters took proved fatal to the 
 cause of Savonarola. Poor man ! The people loaded him with 
 insults, and he was thrown into prison. A spiritual court, under 
 the direction of two Papal commissioners, a sort of mock tribunal, 
 it appears, as those courts usually were in those days, was held for 
 his trial. His firmness and eloquence at first threw his judges into 
 confusion. They resorted to the rack as the only argument they 
 had to bear upon him. Under the influence of torture, he con- 
 fessed that he was an impostor, and that he had never been en- 
 dowed with supernatural powers. This confession, however, he 
 afterwards retracted. But nothing could save him. He Avas con- 
 demned, with some of his prominent disciples, to be fii-st strangled 
 and then burned. This sentence against him was executed in the 
 year 1498, in the presence of a great concourse of people, many 
 of whom regarded him as a martyr and a saint of the first mac-ui- 
 tude. 
 
 The church of Santa Croce, or the Holy Cross, is amono- tb« 
 most notable ones in Florence ; for here are buried some of the most 
 honored men of Italy — Dante, Michael Angelo, Alfieri, Galileo, 
 Machiavelli, and others. I felt more interest in the tomb of the 
 gi-eat astronomer than in any other. And by the way — if you will 
 allow me to flit out of the church a moment, somewhat elfishlv, and 
 alight upon a hill overlooking the city — Galileo'^ Tower, the spot 
 where he used to make his observations, had a great many charms 
 to me. What a host of associations, stretching back far into the 
 past, came crowding into my mind, as 1 surveyed the busy city, 
 with the pretty Arno wiudinor through it, from this eminence. 
 
208 SENDING FOR THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Poor Galileo ! He was in advance of the times in which he 
 lived ; and it was because his great intellect could not be wrapped 
 up in the swaddling-clothes which the Papal church tried to put 
 upon it, that he was hunted down by the Pope. It was for this 
 reason that he languished long months in the dark prisons of the 
 Inquisition at Rome. It was for this reason that his whole life, 
 after the publication of his book maintaining the Copernican theory, 
 was spent under the anathema of the Pontiff and his Council. 
 He died in the year 1642, the very year in which Isaac Newton was 
 born. His monument in the church of Santa Croce was erected 
 in 1787. It is a very tasteful piece of Avorkmanship, as it should 
 be. How often it comes to pass that the world treats its benefac- 
 tors with scorn, and contempt, and abuse, while they are living, 
 and honors, perhaps deifies and worships them after they are dead. 
 Would it not be well for us, dear reader, to learn a lesson from 
 the conduct, in this respect, of the people of past ages ? Would 
 it not be a good plan to look about us a little, and see if we are not 
 placing a false estimate upon some of our fellow-men who have 
 high claims upon our respect and gratitude, which we are in dan- 
 ger of' overlooking until the gniss begins to grow upon their 
 graves ? — Evang. 
 
 SENDING *FOR THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Nothing so much vexes a physician as to be sent for in great 
 haste, and to find, after his arrival, that nothing, or next to no- 
 thing, is the matter with his patient. There is an " urgent case" 
 of this kind recorded of an eminent English surgeon. He had 
 been sent for by a gentleman who had just received a slight 
 wound, and gave his servant orders to go home with all haste 
 imaginable, and fetch a certain plaster. The patient, turning a 
 little pale, said, " Sir, I hope there is no danger." " Indeed there 
 is !" answered the surgeon ; " for if the fellow doesn't run like a 
 race-horse, the wound will be healed before he can possibly get 
 back 1" 
 
THE SHETLAND PONY. 
 
 209 
 
 THE SHETLAND PONY. 
 
 'c:^ 
 
 HESE curious little animals attract 
 so much attention wherever they 
 appear, especially among youths, 
 that they generally form a part of 
 all the menageries that travel through the country. No wonder that 
 they are great favorites with the girls and boys, for their small size, 
 beautiful shape, and gentle, playful disposition, seem to fit them 
 exactly to be playmates for young people, and the little horses are 
 always ready to join in their pleasure excursions and frolics. 
 
 Egypt was the original country of horses, but as they are now 
 found in all parts of the world, they differ greatly, each kind of 
 horse being adapted to the climate and pi'oductions of the country 
 he inhabits. The Shetland pony is just the animal required in 
 Scotland, the Shetland Islands, from which its name is derived, 
 and Canada, in North America. Its diminutive size suits the scanty 
 vegetation of these countries, which would not support large ani- 
 mals ; but if they were as feeble as they are small, they would be 
 of little service. They, however, possess immense strength in pro- 
 portion to their size, and are so tough and healthy that they can 
 live among the mountains through the long winters, and survive to 
 a great age, even fifty or sixty years. 
 
210 THE SHETLAND POXY. 
 
 In Scotland tliey are called Shelties ; and as tliey have to take 
 care of themselves, they run almost Avild npon the mountains, and 
 will climb up steep places, standing with ease on the very edge of the 
 most frightful precipices. On the Sabbath they are always wanted 
 to carry the families to church, and they must be caught on Sat- 
 urday. The rogues know how to make this a difficult task. It is 
 a pleasing sight, on Sunday morning, to see one or two women 
 mounted upon one of these ponies, covering him so completely with 
 their large dresses that nothing can be seen of the pony but its 
 droll little head. 
 
 A middle-sized man must ride with his knees raised to the ani- 
 mal's shoulders, to prevent his toes from touching the ground. It 
 is suiprising to see with what speed they will carry a heavy man 
 over broken and zigzag roads in their native mountains. 
 
 A gentleman, some time ago, was presented with one of thefee 
 handsome little animals, which was no less docile than elegant, 
 and measured only seven liands, or twenty-eight inches, in height. 
 He was anxious to convey his ])resent home as speedily as possible, 
 but being at a considerable distance, was at a loss how to do so 
 most easily. The friend said, " Can you not carry him in your 
 chaise ?" He made the experiment, and the Shelty was lifted into 
 it, covered up with the apron, and some bits of bread given him 
 to keep him quiet. He lay peaceably till he reached his destina- 
 tion, thus exhibiting the novel spectacle of a horse riding in a gig. 
 
 A gentleman had a white pony which became exceedingly at- 
 tached to a Httle white dog that lived with him in the stable; 
 and whenevei- the horse was taken out, the dog always ran by his 
 side. One day, when the groom took out the pony for exercise, 
 accompanied, as usual, by his canine friend, they met a large dog, 
 which attacked the diminutive cur, upon which the horse reared, 
 and, to the astonishment of the bystanders, so effectually fought his 
 friend's battle with his fore-feet, that the aofGfressor found it for his 
 intei-est to scamper otf at full speed, and never again venture to as- 
 sail the small dog. 
 
 A little girl, the daughter of a gentleman in Warwickshire, Eng- 
 land, playing on the banks of a canal which luns through his 
 grounds, had the misfortune to fall in, and would in all probability 
 
THE SHETLAND PONY. 211 
 
 have been drowned, had not a little pony, -svhicli had long been 
 kept in the femily, plunged into the stream and brought the child 
 safely ashore, without the slightest injury. 
 
 A farmer in Canada had a large number of ponies, and among 
 them a very handsome and playful one, which was a great favorite 
 with a little boy about ten years of age, the only child of the fjir- 
 mer. One day the boy was sent several miles on an errand for 
 some money, with a warning to return before night, as the country 
 was infested with robbers. His visit was so delightful that he for- 
 got the command of his parents, and did not mount his pony to 
 return till it was quite dark. His road lay through a thick forest, 
 and it was not long before a highwayman attacked and dragged, 
 him from his horse, which ran swiftly homeward. Meantime his 
 terrified parents sat trembling by their fireside, awaiting their boy's 
 return. They Avere just preparing to go in search of him when 
 they heard the clattering of hoofs, and soon after a loud kicking 
 and pawing at the door. On opening it, they saw the pony in a 
 state of great excitement, w^ith his saddle and bridle dangling about 
 him. He ran from them a short distance, then frisked about, and 
 seizing the father's coat in his teeth, pulled him along. The agon- 
 ized parents followed the animal, who ran ahead, constantly turning 
 back and neighing to urge them onward. After traveling many 
 miles through the woods, they came to the place where the boy had 
 been robbed, and found him tied to a tree, strij^ped of his money 
 and clothes, and half dead with fear and cold. 
 
 I have somewhere read a curious story of a farmer who was in 
 the habit of riding a little " Shelty" to an ale house some miles dis- 
 tant, where he squandered his hard earnings in drinking, and gen- 
 erally became so intoxicated that he could hardly mount his horse. 
 But the animal knew his master's failing, and usually succeeded in 
 bringing him safe to his house. But one night the man was so 
 drunk that he rolled off into the mud when about half-way home. 
 The fall cut his head severely, and he lay with his foot in the stir- 
 rup, so that the poor horse could not move without treading on him. 
 After standing patiently for some time, he became vexed with his 
 beastly master, and turning his head, gave him a hearty shaking. 
 This roused the man from his stupor ; but his hurt was so severe 
 
212 THE RIDE. 
 
 that he could not rise, though he tried to do so, till the horse took 
 hold of his collar, and raised his head nearly to the saddle, when 
 he contrived to crawl upon his back, and was carried carefully home. 
 
 THE EIDE. 
 
 A FABLE, BY J. P M'CORD. 
 
 A STEER, that had never been broke 
 
 To bow to a burden or yoke, 
 
 His frame by a thicket had laid, 
 
 To grind his sweet food in the shade. 
 
 When Frank, on a ramble, espied him. 
 
 He thought 'twould be pleasant to ride him; 
 
 So guiding with caution his track. 
 
 He settled his weight on his back. 
 
 The beast w\is so soon on his feet, 
 
 It jerked him almost from his seat. 
 
 Again in his balance corrected, 
 
 He still a gay season expected ; 
 
 For twice when the creature had wheeled, 
 
 He moved on a trot to the field. 
 
 But ftister and faster he sped. 
 
 Till the rider was conscious of dread. 
 
 Away, yet away, he is bounding, 
 
 His hoofs in the distance are sounding. 
 
 Poor Frank, without slirriip or rein, 
 
 Or even a grasp in the mane, 
 
 Unable his courser to guide, 
 
 Or to hold his position and ride. 
 
 Is planted ere long in the dirt. 
 
 And equally frightened and hurt. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 As I looked, to myself I repeated, 
 "It is often not hard to get seated; 
 But if awkward, or new in the place. 
 Though we start on a prosperous race, 
 We may get in the end a sad tumble. 
 Just to make us a little more humble." 
 
THE UNWELCOME PASSENGER. 
 
 213 
 
 THE UXWELCOME PASSENGER. 
 
 nc of the most amusing, and at the same time, 
 suggestive and instructive British writers for the 
 young is a London gentleman, who styles himself 
 " Old Humphrey." He was among the few literary 
 men that I tried to see while in London. Having a note 
 of introduction to Old Humphrey's publishers, I ascer- 
 tained, through them, w^here the author resided, and lost no time 
 in calling at his house. But, as perhaps an Irishman might say, I 
 found him absent, and was not able to see him while I remained 
 in town. And so fell one of the air-castles I had begun to build 
 before leaving home, and wdiich I had completed abroad. Reader, 
 in respect to this castle-building and castle-falling, I will not say, in 
 the lano-uao^e of Moore — 
 
 " O, ever thus from childliood's hour, 
 iVe seen ray fondest hopes decay , 
 
 I never loved a tree or flower, 
 But 'twas the first to fade away." 
 
 I'll not say that. But I will say, if you will pardon the parody 
 (and, while you have your hand in, me, too, for committing it) I 
 will say, 
 
 I never huilt a castle tall, 
 
 With most especial toil and care, 
 But fell, whene'er it chose to fall. 
 
 As flat as any pan-cakes are. 
 
 " But what is Uncle Frank driving at ?" Well, sure enough, 
 rather a pertinent question that. I set out to tell you a story that 
 this favorite author of mine tells about encountering an unwelcome 
 
214 THE UNWELCOME PASSENGER. 
 
 passenger in a mail-coach, and Low he confesses he got come up 
 with for putting on some airs in respect to the passenger. Til 
 tell the story in the identical language of Old Humphrey. 
 
 Some years ago, in traveling one evening towards London, I 
 happened to be the only passenger inside the mail-coach. There 
 are seasons when we would not willingly travel without company, 
 but, being at the time in a reflective mood, I hoped that no one 
 would disturb me. For some miles I had my wish ; suddenly, 
 however, the mail stopped near the gate of a farm-house, and a 
 man of unusual size soon clambei-ed up the steps into the coach. 
 From the glance I had of him, assisted by the bright lamp on that 
 side the mail-coach, I concluded, at once, that he was some honest 
 faimer, who would talk of nothing the whole of the way but of 
 turnips, clover-seed, barley, pigs, sheep, and cattle. I speak not of 
 these things disparagingly ; they are each and all of them inter- 
 esting and important, but I was no farmer, and besides, my head 
 was full of other things. 
 
 To defend myself as well as I could from so unwelcome a tres- 
 pass on my reflections, I affected to be sleepy, and leaned back my 
 head in the corner of the coach ; but my fellow-traveler was not to 
 be so easily defrauded of a friendly chat ; he began at once, just as 
 I had anticipated, to speak of the effect of the late rain on the 
 turnips. 
 
 To all he said, I replied "yes" or "no," as the case required, 
 and hoped that he would soon relapse into silence, but in this I 
 was quite mistaken. Finding it impossible to evade his conver- 
 sation, I tried to submit with a good face, and endure patiently 
 what I could not avoid. But here it will be well honestly to con- 
 fess, that I thought very little of the farmer, and plumed myself 
 highly on my superior knowledge. In short, I felt, in talking to 
 my companion, like a man who confers a favor by his condescen- 
 sion. Such is the weakness, the folly, the pride, and the vanity of 
 the luunan heart. 
 
 After speaking of the produce of the ground, of cattle, and of 
 the high prices of some things, and the low prices of others, my 
 companion ran into other topics ; and so conipletel}' astonished me 
 by the extent of his practical information, that I began to wonder 
 
THE LIAE. 215 
 
 ■wherever and however he had contrived to pick up so much knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 He spoke of the value of human labor as compared to machinery ; 
 of the population and resources of the country ; of its mines; its 
 manufactures and its commei'ce ; of the poor laws ; of capital, and 
 of the influence of paper money. In short, he got so far beyond 
 me, that I felt like a school-boy in the presence of his master. 
 Yes, the veiy^ man whom I had estimated so low as to think my- 
 self greatly his superior, was as a giant on practical subjects, and I 
 as a dwaif. 
 
 On inquiry, I ascertained that he was a man largely interested 
 in mines, that the workmen employed by him amounted to several 
 thousands, that the advantage of his practical knowledge was 
 sought for by her Majesty's ministers, and that at the time when 
 he traveled with me, he was on his way, with calculations of an 
 important nature, to the first lord of the treasury, the prime min- 
 ister of England. 
 
 I felt little in my own eyes. Oh, it does us good, when puffed 
 up with an undue notion of our own importance, to meet with a 
 reprimand like this. It was a rap on the knuckles that I shall 
 not soon forget, nor do I think that from that time to this, I have 
 ever undervalued a man on account of his appearance. What my 
 companion thought of me, I cannot tell, but I know well what I 
 thought of myself. It was altogether a humbling affair, and taught 
 me to prize more highly than I did before, the injunction of holy 
 writ, " Mind not high things, but condescend to men of low estate. 
 Be not wise in your own conceits." 
 
 The Liar. — As you would avoid the paths of sorrow and misery, 
 as you would turn from the crumbling precipice, run for your life 
 from the steps of the liar. His breath will pollute and destroy. None 
 can confide in him — none trust him. He is hated by his companions, 
 and shunned by his friends. Should you get entangled in his snares, 
 use the utmost exertion and prudence to regain your former stand- 
 ing ; for unless you do, farewell to your hopes — to all your joys ! 
 
216 
 
 THE GIRL AND THE FIREFLIES. 
 
 THE GIEL AND THE FIRE-FLIES. 
 
 HE dimness of twilight fell upon a white cottage 
 and its enclosure of trees and flowering shrubs. 
 ,^ ^ As the darkness increased, fire-flies glanced thickly 
 ^-^ through the air, — a shower of living jewels. 
 
 " Oh, how pretty !" cried a little blue-eyed girl, rushing 
 from the cottage with her apron outspread, to capture the 
 glittering insects. Two or three were imprisoned, and seating 
 herself upon the grass beneath the lofty boughs, she carefully in- 
 spected her booty. While she did so, her sunny face grew clouded 
 with disappointment ; and, throwing the dull, brown creature from 
 her with disgust, she exclaimed, " They are not pretty any more !" 
 " Ah ! my little one," said her mother, " this is but a symbol 
 of the more bitter disappointments that await you in life. Pleas- 
 ures will flutter around your path, and you will pursue them only 
 to fling them from you, and say, ' They are beautiful no longer.' 
 But see, your released fii-e-flies, bright enough upon the wing, 
 sparkle now as gaily as ever. Learn, then, not to despise tlie en- 
 joyments of earth, nor to expect fiom thera too much happiness. 
 Fleeting and changeful as they are, they light up the darkness of 
 our mortal pilgrimage, and point our immortal part to heaven 
 for perfect bliss." l. l. 
 
 PRESIDENT WASHINGTON. 
 
 One day, as the President was walking down Market street, in 
 Philadelphia, with a friend, he met a colored man, who made a bow 
 to him. Washington politely bowed io him. "What!" said his 
 proud friend, " do you bow to a negro ?" " To be sure I do," said 
 Washington ; " do you think I would not be as polite as a black 
 man «" 
 
WORK AND PLAY. 
 
 217 
 
 WOEK AND PLAY. 
 
 "All work and no play, makes Jack a dull boy." 
 
 It is doubtful whether among all the sayings of Poor Richard, 
 ' there is one which gives such universal satisfaction to little folks as 
 ' this — one to whose truth they can more heart'ihj subscribe. 
 I What boy would like to be a dull hoy? A dull boy will event- 
 I ually prove a dull man, and who would like to think that in a per- 
 1 baps long life before him, this dullness should name one of Aisdistin- 
 i guishing traits ? The very idea of such a thing being possible, 
 1 makes the boy's pulse beat faster, and he would at once run out 
 on the play-ground. 
 
 Play is such a pleasant antidote for dullness ! " "What a kind 
 ; physician was Dr. Franklin, to prescribe so agTeeably to the tastes 
 and inclinations of his patients, the rising generation !" So is many 
 a boy ready to exclaim, as he throws into the ball club his whole 
 strength of muscle, or exercises his lungs and limbs to their full 
 measure in the exhilarating " I spy." "What a ivise physician was 
 
 VOL. IV. 10 NR 
 
218 ORIGIN OF THE TERM BLACKGUARD. 
 
 Dr. Franklin," 5.13^8 many an older head, as the perhaps weary, 
 listless boy at his work has, after a few minutes' pastime, returned 
 to his task with new zest and vigor. " Yes, wise,''^ will echo the 
 boy, glad ever to find wisdom in what is so very delightful to his 
 feelings — " wise as well as pleasant." 
 
 Life, to answer its end and aim, must be an active, earnest life. 
 So dullness is a disease, a spiritual and bodily disease, which in 
 time will become chronic. Dullness a disease, and pla^ its anti- 
 dote ! Will not this truth be easy for boys to remember, and will 
 not the application prove still easier ? 
 
 Like the homoeopathic dose, the remedy of Dr. Franklin's is ever 
 welcome to the paient — it would not be unpleasant to have a few 
 more grains than are absolutely necessary. But the good effect 
 of all remedies Hes in taking enough for antidote or cure, and no 
 more. The homoeopathic dose is a small one, and allowed at inter- 
 vals. So doubtless Dr. Franklin meant that his prescription should 
 be. Will boys remember this latter truth, in connection with the 
 former mentioned ? l. 
 
 ORIGIN OF THE TERM BLACKGUARD. ■ 
 
 Everybody is familiar with the epithet hlackguard, though few, 
 perhaps, know how *it fii-st came into use. Giftbrd, in his notes 
 to the works of Ben Jonson, gives us some clue to the thing. In 
 all great houses, but particularly in royal residences, there were a 
 number of mean and dirty dependents, whose office it was to at- 
 tend the wood-yard, sculleries, (fee. Of these (for in the lowest, 
 depth there was a lower still) the most forlorn wretches seem to 
 have been selected to carry coals to the kitchens, halls, <fec. To 
 this smutty regiment, who attended the progresses, and rode in 
 the carts with the pots and kettles, which, with every other article 
 of furniture, were then moved from palace to palace, the people in 
 derision gave the name of blackguards^ a term since become suffi- 
 ciently familiar, and never before properly explained. 
 
 I 
 
A PEEP AT ROCKVILLE. 
 
 219 
 
 A PEEP AT EOCKVILLE. 
 
 BY AUNT ANX. 
 
 MUST tell you, dear reader, a little about the beautiful 
 village where I live. In the Green Mountain State, 
 in one of the vallevs that lie between the hio'h hills, 
 _>^^^^ is a busy little place which the Indians used to call 
 \ Scictchiwag^ but which we will name Rockville. 
 ( There is a river running through it, the water of which 
 ' is so dark, it is called Black River. 
 
 You would laugh to see how it comes running and frolicking 
 over the rocks in its path, and just in the centre of the village it 
 makes a leap over a ledge of rock fifty feet high, dashing the spray 
 about, and making the water foam as if it were angry at the inter- 
 ruption. But in a sunny day, there is a beautiful rainbow right 
 over the falls, and at such times, when you are "looking, it seems 
 almost as if it quieted the waters, for just below the rapids they 
 flow on very peacefull}', and soon enter the broad Connecticut, and 
 then go, you know where, if you remember your geography lessons. 
 When I first saw this place, many years ago, I thought it very 
 beautiful. The only house near the falls was a little old-fashioned 
 brown building, and all around were dark pine trees, with now and 
 then a poplar, a spruce, or a hemlock. A rude but strong bridge 
 was thrown across the riv^er, just where the water entered the deep 
 gulf between the high, smooth rocks. But you know, perhaps, that 
 such a fall of water is very useful to turn mill-wheels, and men 
 have been very busy the last twenty years in New England in find- 
 ing all such places. This has not escaped them, and now if you 
 come liere, you will hear the noise of a great many little factories 
 and shops. And you will see a dam up the river, and a dam down 
 the river, and out of one building will come the miller with his 
 white hat, and out of another a troop of girls, and by the side of 
 
220 A PEEP AT ROCKVILLE. 
 
 another stands a team loaded with shoe pegs, and yonder another 
 with clothes' pins, and here again a wheelbarrow load of sand- 
 paper. Oh, it is the busiest little place you ever saw, and you 
 would like to go round with me and see some of these shops. 
 Let me take you to one now. It stands back of tliat brick cotton 
 factory, and part of it is built over the water. We will turn down 
 a little path and enter it. It is a card factory. These cards are 
 used for carding wool and cotton in the mills. It is not many 
 years since they were all made by hand, the holes punched with 
 needles through the leather, and then women and children were 
 employed to set the teeth. But a gentleman in Cambridge, Eng- 
 land, invented a machine to make them. 
 
 One was purchased by a machinist in this country ; but no per- 
 son was permitted to see it excepting the workmen who managed 
 it. " Uncle Frederic," the gentleman to whom I should introduce 
 you if you were with me to see the card factory here, was then a 
 young man. He is now fifty years old. He looks rather pale, 
 for he has studied hard, and within doors mostly. His hair is 
 gray, but long and curly. He has a mild, pleasant look, and, like 
 all good and ingenious men, loves children. So we need not be 
 afraid to ask him questions. 
 
 He says when he was a little boy he was all the time inventing 
 machines, making curious mouse-traps, baskets, engines, <kc. Once, 
 when he was only nine years old, he made a mill, constructed a 
 little dam in the brook, made a water-wheel, and it worked well. 
 The frame was made of poplar wood, and the roof covered neatly 
 with boards. 
 
 Well, as I was saying, when he was a young man, he heard of 
 this card machine. He could not see it, but a brother who could, 
 made some drawings for him, and Uncle Frederic went alone by 
 himself, procured a forge and tools, and made one as good as the 
 original. You cannot understand how diflBcult this was, if you 
 have never seen a card machine. It is composed of a great many 
 small pieces, and when put together, it seems almost as if it had 
 life. It takes the iron wire from the large round skeins, and after 
 making holes in the leather, w^hich is first placed in contact with 
 the machine, it threads the holes with the \\dre a great deal faster 
 
THE PETUXIA AND HOLLY TREE. 221 
 
 than the nicest little girl can thread her needle. Then it bends 
 them to the proper shape, as you will see they all curve in one 
 direction if you examine a piece of caid. What a noise these ma- 
 chines make — like so many clocks ticking as loud and as fast as 
 they can. 
 
 THE PETUNIA AND HOLLY TREE. 
 
 A PURPLE Petunia had clambered to tlie edge of a low parapet, 
 dividino- neio-hborino- o-ardens. It flnno- a cluster of its finest flow- 
 ers over the wall, and a tall thorn holly received a portion on its 
 glossy leaves. 
 
 " Beautiful flower," cried the dark green tree, " why dost thou 
 thus deck me with thy purple sheen ?" 
 
 The flower became of deeper hue, as with a breath of unrivaled 
 sweetness she softly nestled amid the armed leaves, and said, " Thou 
 hast called me beautiful, and dost thou not know that beauty loves 
 valor ? I gazed at thy stately form, and on the armor with which 
 thou glistenest at every point, and methought that the meed of the 
 brave was the smile and the sweetness they defend." 
 
 " I can watch over thee, frail charge, for a fleeting time," replied 
 he coldly, " but ere the armor of which thou speakest has been dim- 
 med with the touch of dew, thou wilt be faded and dead on my 
 bosom." 
 
 As he ceased, a fair being robed in w^hite approached and culled 
 the cluster, tearing it with much exertion from the grasp of the 
 Holly. 
 
 " Farewell," sighed the flower, as she trembled in the maiden's 
 grasp, " more blessed my fate to fade on the bosom of Tmocence, 
 than to die unwept in the arms of Valor !" e. a. c. 
 
;90 
 
 THE DUGBEAR ANT) ITS VICTIM. 
 
 THE BUGBEAR AND ITS VICTIM. 
 
 "Don't "be scared "before you are hurt." 
 
 f^ HIS is what my old father used to say to us, when- 
 ever he saw in us any signs of undue timidity, 
 " Don't be scared, boys, before you are hurt." We 
 often thought that it was of little use to be scared 
 we were hurt. But whether it were more desirable 
 lave a fright before or after being injured, matters little 
 to my present purpose; for whichever conclusion we come 
 to, it is better still to investigate every occasion for alarm, far 
 enough to know whether there is any real injury to be dreaded, 
 before yielding to our fears, and rather than to distress others with 
 OTU- apprehensions. Of this the old gentleman gave us some fine 
 illustrations. 
 
 His father was taken suddenly and violently ill one night, and it 
 became necessary to send immediately for a physician. The good 
 old Doctor E. lived about five miles distant in the village of C. and 
 that distance must be traveled on foot, in the dead of night. Re- 
 turning, he proposed to take a shorter route, through a very unfre- 
 quented, and rough, and dark, and dreary path, overhung by the 
 branches of trees that shut out even the glimmer of light from the 
 stars. 
 
 \Yhile hastening on in the solitude and the thick darkness, sud- 
 denly, in the most lonely and dismal part of his route, some huge 
 object sprang up in his path before him, at his very feet. He was 
 so near to it, that another step would have brought him upon it. 
 It leaped up from amid this solitude *and the stillness of death, and 
 with clattering feet, it ran a few steps and stopped, and all was still 
 again as the grave. He felt his blood curdle, and his hat rise up 
 
LAUGHTER. 223 
 
 from his head, as his hair for a moment bristled up with fear. 
 His first impulse was to run back. What could it be ? A mo- 
 ment's reflection convinced him that it was something that had 
 received as well as given a very sudden .start, and since the shock 
 was mutual, he might venture to stay long enough to reconnoitre, 
 and perhaps discover the cause of his sudden and unexpected 
 fright. He could see nothing whatever ; but in the direction of 
 the object, an opening in the timber revealed the clear star-lit 
 sky ; and stooping down until the object was brought above the 
 horizon, he saw distinctly defined upon that faintly lighted back- 
 ground the huge image of — a coiv. 
 
 Alas for those tremendously inflated fears ! there was nothing 
 more to hold their sides out, and they at once collapsed. The hat 
 settled gradually down to its proper place, and he was ready to 
 kick himself for very shame, that he had yielded for a moment to 
 those weak fears ; and he could scarcely refrain, as he hurried past, 
 from kicking the innocent cause of his fears. But he concluded 
 once more that it was best not to be scared before he w^as hurt, and 
 now be had leisure to reflect, that there is little benefit in being 
 scared after it. 
 
 If he had allow^ed himself to yeld to the first impulse of his 
 fright, and to run back two or three miles to the doctor's to 
 tell his big ghost story, he might have confirmed his fears, if he 
 had not convinced others that substantial dangers haunted that 
 desolate path. hampdex. 
 
 LAUGHTER. 
 
 " Laugh and grow fat" is quite a venerable adage ; and Sterne 
 tells us that every time a man laughs he adds something to his life. 
 An eccentric philosopher of the last century used to say that he liked 
 not only to laugh himself, but to see laughter and hear laughter. 
 Laughter is good for health ; it is a provocative to the appetite, 
 and a friend to digestion. Dr. Sydenham said the arrival of a 
 raerry-andrew in a town was more beneficial to the health of the 
 inhabitants than twenty asseB loaded with medicine. 
 
224 
 
 THE LITTLE BIRD THIEF. 
 
 THE LITTLE BIRD THIEF. 
 
 ^^ % 
 
 i^J( 
 
 '^^ 
 
 IRDS, as well as individuals of a species much 
 more advanced in intelligence, sometimes steal 
 from eacli other. It is a lamentable story to tell ; 
 but it is true. A correspondent fiom the State of 
 Vermont tells me an anecdote about a robin and a 
 sparrow, which shows the thieving propensities of one of 
 these birds, and informs us at the same time, how the 
 thief got pay for his larcenies. A lady, it seeius, busied herself oc- 
 casionally, for several days, in the spring of the yeai*, in watching 
 the movements of two birds, while they were building their nests 
 near each other. One of these birds was a robin ; the other a 
 sparrow, or chipping bird, as he is familiarly called. The robin — 
 I give the language of the narrator — adopting the modern rule, I 
 suppose, that " might makes right," had made various depredations 
 upon the little chipping bird, who seemed either not to know the 
 author of her losses, or else to be very patient under them. Some- 
 times she would sit and contemplate the altered condition of her 
 little nest, and wink her little eyes, as if she were growing wiser, 
 and by-and-bye " would think it out," as the little folks say. In 
 the meantime, Mr. Eobin's nest was improving finely, and 
 needed only a single strip of cotton wick to render it ready for 
 Mrs. Kobin's occupancy. This his practical eye soon saw in the 
 nest below him, and little chip suffered an abstraction she had not 
 had occasion to wonder over before. Soon our little friend re- 
 turned, and seemed utterly unable to account for this last depre- 
 dation. She tiew into the bush above the robin's nest, to think 
 the matter over. Soon she saw the nest, and approached for a 
 nearer view, when, with apparently the greatest rage and violence, 
 she flew into the nest, and tore it all in pieces. 
 
THE GU]S"POWDER PLOT. 
 
 225 
 
 THE GUNPOWDER PLOT. 
 
 .[10 has not heard of the Gunpowder Plot, and of 
 ; ' Guy Fawkes, the man who had such a promi- 
 Uhi ]^^^^^^ nent hand in it? You are not among the 
 B:' '^^g number, are you, reader ? But have you ever heard the 
 '/^^^^ particulars about that affair ? If nor, I will give you 
 "^B:^ some of them. 
 
 - v.^.. \. rpj^-g |;^j.j.5i^Je scheme, which came so near beino- suc- 
 
 — ' o 
 
 cessful, was set on foot some two hundred years ago. It was dur- 
 ing the reign of James I. James, you will recollect, ascended the 
 tlirone of Great Britain on the death of Elizabeth. lie was the 
 first of the Stuart family, the son of Mary Queen of Scots. Al- 
 though Elizabeth had treated his mother veiy cruelly during her 
 life, and had at last caused her to be put to death, she wished that 
 James should succeed her on the throne. The mother of James 
 was a Catholic, and the Catholics, who had been treated with a 
 good deal of rigor during the reign of Elizabeth, had strong hopes 
 that this prince would treat them with more favor ; but they were 
 sadly disappointed in these hopes. James, on all occasions, ex- 
 pressed his intention to put in force the laws which had been en- 
 acted against them, and left them no reason to hope that he would 
 treat them more favorably than Elizabeth had done. 
 
 The Catholics, despairing of finding favor either with the king 
 or his parliament, resolved upon a bold conspiracy to destroy them 
 both with one terrible blow. One of their number, in his wrath 
 against James, proposed to assassinate the king ; but the originator 
 of the plot opposed this plan. He argued that if they could get 
 rid of the king, his children would remain to reign after him, and 
 they would not only inherit their father's vieffs and feelings, but, 
 more than this, would be actuated by a spirit of revenge for theij 
 
 VOL. IV. 10* ^-R 
 
226 THE GUNPOWDER PLOT. 
 
 father's death, and even if they could destroy the whole royal fam- 
 ily, the parliament and nobility entertained the same views and 
 feelings, and therefore the only thing they could do, was to destroy 
 at one blow all their powerful enemies. 
 
 The plan proposed to effect this, was to run a mine below the 
 hall where pai liament met, and store it with powder. When tliis 
 was done, they were to choose the moment when the king was 
 addressing both houses, to apply a torch to the powder, and in- 
 volve them all in one common ruin. It was a dreadful scheme, but 
 it came very near being successful. The secret was communicated 
 to one and another, each one being bound by a solemn oath not to 
 betray it, and though more than twenty persons were in the pos- 
 session of this di-eadful secret, it was faithfully kept for almost a 
 year and a half. 
 
 The name of one of the prominent leaders was Piercy, a descend- 
 ant from a noble family. The first step which was taken w;is to 
 hire a liouse in Piercy's name, next to the one in which parliament 
 was to assemble. They next commenced to dig through the wall 
 between them and the house in which parliament were to meet, 
 "which wall was three feet in thickness. WIkmi they were approach- 
 ing the farther side of this wall, they heard a singular noise, which 
 startled them, but npon inquiring into it, they asceitained that it 
 came from the vault below the House of Lords, which had been 
 filled with coal. As this coal was being sold, the vault would be 
 let to the highest bidder. This was just the opportunity they 
 wanted. After securing possession of the vault, they placed in it 
 thirty-six barrels of powder, and covered them over with sticks of 
 wood. They then boldly threw open the vault, that any one who 
 chose might enter, in this way preventing suspicion that there was 
 anything there which they wished to conceal. 
 
 Everything worked in their favor, and they began to grow quite 
 sure of success. The day now rapidly approached for the assembling 
 of the parliament. The king and queen, and one of the king's 
 sons, Avere expected to be present ; and those in the plot took 
 measures to get into their hands such membei"s of the royal family 
 as would not be prt?^ent. No remorse or pity seemed to find a 
 place in the bosom of any one of their number. Their only re- 
 
THE GUNPOWDEPw PLOT. 227 
 
 irret seemed to be, that some Catholics would be present as specta- 
 tors or attendants on the king. But the priests assured them that 
 tlie interests of their religion required that the innocent should be 
 sacrificed with the guilt}', and this settled all their doubts, and it 
 did not seem probable that the secret would escape from any one 
 of their number. 
 
 Put about ten days before the meeting of parliament, one of the 
 Catholic members of the House of Lords received the following 
 letter : 
 
 "My L«rd, — Out of the love I bear to some of your friends, T 
 have a care of your preservation ; therefore I would advise you, as 
 you value your life, to devise some excuse to shift off your attend- 
 ance at this parliament. For God and man hath concurred to 
 punish the wickedness of this time. And think not slightly of this 
 advertisement ; but retire yourself into the country, where you may 
 expect the event in safety. For though there be no appearance 
 of any stir, yet, I say, they Avill receive a terrible blow this parlia- 
 ment, and yet they shall not see who hurts them. This counsel is 
 not to be contemned, because it may do you good, and can do you 
 no harm ; for the danger is past as soon as you have burned the 
 letter. And I hope God will give you the grace to make good use 
 of it, unto whose holy protection I commend you." 
 
 The gentleman to whom this letter was addressed, knew not 
 what to make of it. He was inclined to think it only a foolish 
 attempt to frighten and ridicule him. Still he thought it the safest 
 plan to show it to the secretary of state. He too was inclined to 
 make light of it, yet when the king arrived in town a few days 
 after, he laid the letter before him. The king thought less lightly 
 of it. The eai-nest, serious style of the letter seemed to imply 
 something important and dangerous. Some expressions in the 
 letter suggested to the mind of the king that there might be some 
 contrivance by gunpowder, and it was proposed to examine all the 
 vaults below the houses of parliament. 
 
 Those who originated the plot had sent over to the continent for 
 one Guy Fawkes, a man whom they thought just the one for their 
 purpose. This man passed as Piei'cy's serwint, and took a very 
 prominent part in the preparations for the execution of the plot. 
 
228 AN ALARMING THEFT. 
 
 The lord chamberlnin, to whom the business of inspecting the vaults 
 was committed, purposely delayed the search until the day befoi-e 
 the meeting of parliament. AVhen he visited the vaultvS, he ob- 
 served the great piles of wood which lay in the vault under the 
 upper house. He also cast his eye upon Fawkes, who stood in a 
 dark corner of the vault, and was not altogether pleased with his 
 appearance. Things on the whole looked so suspicious, it was 
 agreed that a thorough search should be made af)0ut midnight. 
 
 A justice of the peace was sent ^\/th proper attendants, and be- 
 fore the door of the vault they found Fawkes, who had just com- 
 pleted all hi^ preparations. They seized him, and, turning over 
 the wood, discovered the powder. ^latches, and everything proper 
 for setting fire to the train were found in Fawkes' pocket. AVhon 
 he found that his guilt was fully proved, he boldly declared that 
 his only regret was that he had lost the opportunity of firing the 
 powder and destroying his enemies. 
 
 The ceremony of examining the vaults under the houses of par- 
 liament, before the meeting of that body, is still retained, though 
 of course it is only a ceremony, as no one expects to find powder 
 concealed there now. The boys on this day collect in companies, 
 each company carrying an image of Guy Fawkes. When two of 
 these companies meet in the street, a regular fight follows ; the ob- 
 ject of each party being to capture the Guy of the other^ 
 
 AN ALAEMING THEFT, 
 
 A BAKER in England stole a tombstone for the hearth of his 
 oven. One of his customers, finding DeatWs head on the bottom 
 of his loaf of bread, ran in dismay to his deacon, fearing the en^ 
 of the world was approaching. The latter was in equal trepi<i.. 
 tion, when, on examining his own loaf, he f)UMd the marrow- 
 hones. In their alarm they had recourse to the parson, who culd 
 aftbid them no consolation, inasmuch as ^'' ResurgaiiC was legibly 
 sot forth in bold relief upon his own loaf. 
 
TWO WAYS OF BEAEINO DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 229 
 
 TWO WAYS OF BEAKING- DISAPPOmTMEXT. 
 
 BY COUSIN KATE. 
 
 r>^ 
 
 
 h>^ 
 
 ^ -^^-^ ^ - 
 
 ^ HERE will be no school to-morrow. How I wish 
 ^ we could go over to grandfather's," said Mary 
 Fowler to her cousin, Jane White. 
 
 " Who knows but we can go ?" replied Jane. 
 " I am not sure but brother George, who is at "home now, 
 would take us over, if we should ask him." 
 
 " Do you believe he would ? Do ask him then, pray 
 
 dol' 
 
 *•' I will, if you will go home with me, and be there to second the 
 motion." 
 
 " Yes, I will. I will second it, with all my heart." 
 
 "George, are you going- over to see grandfather before you go 
 back to New York ?" said Jane to her brother. 
 
 George was engaged with a book, and was about carelessly to 
 reply that he did not know, when, casting a glance toward-s Jane 
 and Mary, he saw^ that they were both awaiting his answer, with 
 great interest and ill-concealed anxiety. He now undei'stood pretty 
 clearly the bearing of the question, and while a mischievous smile 
 lurked in a corner of his mouth, he replied, 
 
 " Well, possibly I might, if I thought there were any hope of 
 persuading my cousin Mary and sister Jane to go with me, to pre- 
 vent my losing the way. Do you think I could have their com- 
 pany ?" 
 
 Jane did not reply at once, for tliough she felt really grateful 
 fur her brother's kindness in anticipating her wishes, before they were 
 expressed, yet she felt just the least bit vexed that brother Georo-e 
 always did k\iow just what she was thinking about, before she had 
 
230 TWO WAYS OF BEARING DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 uttered a dozen words She sometimes liked to approach a sub- 
 ject by degrees, but George would always jump right into the 
 middle of a thing. 
 
 She stood blushing, in answer to her brother's question, until 
 Maiy came to her aid, by boldly saying, " Yes, cousin George, we 
 can show you the way just as well as not to-morrow, for there is 
 no school." 
 
 " Then I may lose my guides if I do not go to-morrow. This 
 is a fact to be taken into serious consideration," said George, with 
 assumed gravity. "John," said he, raising the window, a!id call- 
 ing to his father's hired man, wlio was passing by, " do you think I 
 can have the use of Jerry to-morrow^ to ride over to grandfather's ?" 
 
 " I presume you can," said John. " He will not be wanted on 
 the farm to-morrow." 
 
 " Very well," said George, closing the window. "All right," 
 said he, turning to the girls, " a horse and guides engaged for to- 
 mono \v." 
 
 Jane and Mary looked the tlianks they hardly knew how to ex- 
 press, as they l«ft George to resume his reading, and went out of 
 the room in high spirits, at the complete success of their scheme. 
 
 But the weather did not prove as accommodating as brother 
 George. The next morning was cloudy and dark. Mary looked 
 in the western sky until her eyes ached, to find one bright spot; 
 but findin^i not one, she went to look out of the east windows. 
 Her father very sagely remarked that the east was not the place 
 to look for fair weather. Mary knew it was not, but as she could 
 not tiiid it in the west, and could not give it up, what could she do 
 but look in the east for it, upon the same principle that a friend 
 6f mine (famous for finding things that others cannot find) says 
 she adopts when looking for a lost article, which is to look where 
 she knows it is not. But neither east or west furnished a single 
 indication of favorable weather. 
 
 Grievously disajipointed was Mary, and so too was Jane. But 
 the question whether to make the best or the worst of it, still re- 
 mained for each of them to settle. Mary chose the latter, and she 
 did, indeed, make the worst of it. She refused to do anything all 
 that day, but mourn because she could not go to grandfather's with 
 
TWO WAYS OF BEARING DISAPPOINTMENT. 281 
 
 cousin George and Jane. She would lounge around the windows 
 by the hour together, looking at the clouds and watching the rain, 
 every drop of which she considered in the light of a personal ene- 
 my to herself, although at that moment, quite regardless of her 
 ingratitude, it was performing the friendly office of watering her 
 flowers, which in truth very much needed it. To this same timely 
 rain was she indebted for those large and beautiful berries which 
 she found so delicious a few weeks after, and for those fine potatoes 
 which she liked so well the next winter. 
 
 But let us turn to Jane, who took a very different course from 
 Mary, and see how she made the best of it. Early in the morning 
 Jane saw very plainly that it was to be a long, long, rainy day. 
 She said to heiself, " I must contrive to be very busy to-day, or it 
 will seem very dull, and I shall be thinking all the time about 
 going to grandfather's. What had I better do ? Let me think. 
 There is that dress of mine which mother said I might give to 
 poor Margaret's little girl, if I would make it over for her. It 
 will be a grand time to do it to-day, for I shall have a long day 
 all to myself, and I may not have another very soon." 
 
 Jane asked her mother about it, who approved of the plan very 
 much. She promised, if Jane would do all she could on the dress 
 that day, to do the rest herself, so that the dress might be finished 
 the next morning, when Margaret came to wash for them. 
 
 Jane w^orked very busily nearly all the day. When she was in- 
 clined to feel bad because she could not go to her grandfather's, 
 she tried, instead of thinking about it, to think how pleased Mar- 
 garet and her little girl would be with the new dress. With her 
 mother's assistance, she finished the di-ess before night. It fitted 
 very nicely to her little sister Susan, w^ho was about the right size. 
 
 The next morning, when Margaret came with her little giil, 
 Jane brought out the dress and tried it on. The little girl and 
 the mother both looked so pleased and happy, that Jane hardly 
 knew whether to be glad or sorry for the rainy day which }>re- 
 vented her going to her grandfather's. " If I had gone," she said, 
 " Margaret's little girl would not have had her new diess to-dav, 
 and I don't know but I enjoy seeing them so happy, as well as I 
 should have enjoyed going to grandfather's." 
 
282 
 
 A PET OUEANG-OUTANG. 
 
 A PET OURANG-OUTANG. 
 
 The following account of a pet baboon, named Tiian, is trans- 
 lated from a recent work, entitled Voyac/es et Recits, by Dr. Yran. 
 It cannot, I think, fail to amuse and instruct my readers. At all 
 events, it has contributed g-reatly to my own amusement and in- 
 struction : 
 
 When Tiian was intrusted to me, (says the author of this book,) 
 he was about three years old. Ilis height Avas that of a child of 
 three. Had it not been for his prominent abdoipen, he would have 
 resembled a young Malay, diessed in some brown material, like 
 our little sweeps. "When I freed him from the bamboo basket in 
 which he was brought to me, he seized hold of my hand, and tried 
 to drag me away, as a little boy who wanted to escape from some 
 disagreeable object might have done. I took liim into ray room, 
 ill which M. Dutroncoy had a sort of cell prepared for him. On 
 
A PET OUIIANG-OUTANG. 233 
 
 seeing tliis new cage, which resembled a Malay house, Tuan under- 
 stood that it was in future to be his lodging. He let go my hand, 
 and set about collecting all the hnen he could find. He then 
 cnnied his booty into his lodging, and covered its walls carefully. 
 These arrangements made, he seized on a napkin, and having 
 draped himself in this rag as majestically as an Arab in his bur- 
 nous^ lay down in the bed he had prepared. 
 
 Tuan's disposition was Yery mild ; to raise one's voice to him 
 was sufficient. Yet he now and then had very diverting fits of 
 anger. One day I took from him a mango he had stolen. At first 
 he tried to get it back ; but being unable to do so, he uttered 
 plaintive cries, thrusting out his lips like a pouting child. Finding 
 that this pettishness had not the success he anticipated, he threw 
 himself flat on his face, struck the ground with his fist, and scream 
 ed, ciied, and howled for more than half an hour. At last I felt 
 that I was acting contrary to my duty in refusing the fruit he de- 
 sired, for, in opposition to God's will, I was seeking to bend to the 
 exigencies of our civilization, the independent nature which he had 
 sent into the world amid virgin forests, in order that it should obey 
 all its instincts and satisfy all its longings. I approached ray ward, 
 calling him by the most endearing names, and oftered him the 
 mango. As soon as it was within his reach he clutched it with 
 violence, and threw it at my head. He was, however, only on rare 
 occasions peevish and naughty. 
 
 When I first let Tuan dine with me at table, he adopted a some- 
 what incorrect mode of pointing out the objects which were pleasing 
 to him. He stretched out his brown hand, and tried to put upon 
 his plate all that he could lay hold of. I gave him a box on the 
 ear to make him understand politeness. He then made use of a 
 stratagem ; he covered his face with one hand, while he stretched 
 the other toward the dish. This scheme answei-ed no better, for I 
 hit the guilty hand with the handle of my kwife. From that mo- 
 ment my intelligpiit pupil understood that he was to wait to be helped. 
 
 He very quickly learned to eat his soup with a spoon, in this 
 way : a thin soup was placed before him ; he got upon the table, 
 like a dog, lapping, and tried to suck it up slowly. This method 
 a])j)earing inconvenient to him, he set down again on his chair, 
 
234 A PET OURAXG-OUTANG. 
 
 and took his plate in both hands, but as he raised it to his lips, lie 
 spilled a portion of it over his breast. I then took a spoon, and 
 showed him how to use it. He immediately imitated me, and ever 
 after made use of that implement. 
 
 When I brought Tuan on board the " Cleopatra," he was domi- 
 ciled at the foot of the mainmast and left completely free. He 
 went in and out of his habitation when he pleased. The sailors re- 
 ceived him as a friend, and undertook to initiate him in the cus- 
 toms of a sea-faring life. A little tin basin and spoon were given 
 bim, which he carefully shut up in his house, and at meal times he 
 went to the distribution of provisions with the crew. It was funny 
 to see him, especially in the morning, getting his basin filled with 
 coftee, and then sitting comfortably down to take his first meal in 
 company with his friends, the cabin boys. 
 
 Tuan acquired the habits of a gourmand while on board ; he 
 drank wine, and had even become deeply learned in the art of ap- 
 preciating that liquid. One day two glasses were off*ered him — 
 one half full of champagne, the other half full of claret. Wlien 
 he had a glass in each hand, some one tried to deprive him of that 
 containing the champagne. To defend himself, he hastily brought 
 his disengaged hand up to the one which had been seized hold of, 
 and having by a dexterous etfort succeeded in freeing it, he poured 
 the sparkling liquid into the glass of which he had undisturbed 
 possession. He then held out the empty glass to the person who 
 had tried to deprive him of it. 
 
 Tliis act, so well conceived and so difficult to execute, was fol- 
 lowed by one no less remarkable. Tuan was among the ropes, 
 and would not come down, in spite of my reiterated orders. I 
 showed him a glass of beer to persuade him to come to me. He 
 looked a long while at what 1 oftered him; then, not trusting per- 
 fectly to what he saw, he took a rope, and with admirable precis- 
 ion, directed its end into the glass. He then drew up the rope, 
 put the end he had dipped into the liquid into his mouth, and 
 having made sure of the flavor, hastened down to share the bev- 
 erage with me. 
 
 It is fiilse that ourang-outangs have been taught to smoke ; Tuan 
 and all those I have seen were unable to execute that act. 
 
Handel's okgan-playing. 235 
 
 Tuan took possession of all the pieces of stuff, or clothing, he 
 found, and either threw them over his shoulders, or covered his 
 head with them. Handkerchiefs, napkins, shirts, or carpets, which 
 came in his way, were indiscriminately used for this purpose. In 
 those burning countries it was, most certainly, not the temperature 
 which led him to wrap himself up ; it was not a feeling of decency 
 either ; for he only protected the upper portions of his body with 
 these varied draperies. 
 
 If an animal invaded his cage, Tuan drove him away unmerci- 
 fully. One day he even picked the feathers out of a pigeon who 
 had been struck with the unfortunate idea of takins" refuo-e .there. 
 
 Wherever we put into harbor, I brought him clusters of ban- 
 anas ; the tVuits were -placed with those belonging to the officers of 
 the staff. Tuan had leave to enter this sanctuary at his pleasure. 
 Provided he had been once shown which clusters belonged to him, 
 he lespected the others till such time as he had exhausted his own 
 provision. After that, he no longer went ostensibly and boldly in 
 search of fruit, but by stealth, crawling like a serpent ; the larceny 
 committed, he came up again faster than he had gone down. 
 
 HANDEL'S ORGAN-PLAYINa. 
 
 The celebrated Handel being once in a country church, asked 
 the organist to permit him to play the congregation out, to which 
 he readily consented. Handel took his seat at the organ, and 
 began to play ^n such a masterly manner as to instantly attract 
 the attention of the people, who, instead of vacating their seats 
 as usual, remained for a considerable time, fixed in silent admira- 
 tion. The organist began to be impatient (perhaps his wife was 
 waiting dime'-) and at length, addressing the performer, told him 
 that he could not play the people out, and advised him to relin- 
 quish the attempt ; which done, a few harsh strains, in the accus- 
 tomed manner, operated like the reading of the riot act, by in- 
 stantly dispersing the audience. 
 
236 
 
 THE SMOOTH SHILLING. 
 
 THE SMOOTH SHILLING. 
 
 ^,^^^:^. 
 
 ^4r IP ! ^^ DO not know to whom to credit the following observ- 
 ,- ations ; but they are worthy the pen of " Poor Rich- 
 ie ard," and I hope they will be carefully read and 
 seriously pondered : 
 •\ '' That piece won't go, sir," observed the man behind the 
 ( counter, handing me back again a shilling so worn that no- 
 ^ thing could be seen on either side of it but a dull, silver 
 lustre, and no perceptible figure. I took it, and replaced it in my 
 purse. But as I rode home, my meditations were on the shilling. 
 " It won't go," he said ; but why not ? It is no doubt a genuine 
 coin. For ten, twenty, and even fifty years, it has been in con- 
 stant circulation. The hands of some thousands of persons have 
 held it. It has sparkled as a ])retty toy in the tiny fingers of some 
 sweet child ; it has been clutched by the hand of a miser. It has 
 been laid upon the- glazed eye-ball of a youth in a shroud ; clinked 
 in the till of the merchant ; been tossed to the street musician, as 
 an inducement to him to cut short the agony of his organ. It 
 has traveled through the States, passing current everywhere. It 
 has been exchano-ed in its time for commodities enouMi to make 
 any beggar rich. To multitudes it has brought, over and over 
 again, in some shape, the worth of a shilling. Others have pos- 
 sessed and lost it, but obtained no equivalent. It was their fault, 
 however, not the shilling's. But now the tide is turned. The 
 f lithful piece of money would be delinquent. " It won't go." 
 But why not? I again ask. Because it is smooth. Its surface 
 tells no tale that we can credit. It bears not the impress of the 
 mint, or the government insignia. Xo head pillars or date does 
 it show. A coin must have impressions, or it is only a plaything, 
 a medal, or a silver button mould. Smooth pieces of silver won't 
 go any better than if they were bits of my grandmother's spoons, 
 or those famous old knee-buckles that figured on my grandfather's 
 
THE POOR BOY AND THE RECTOR. 237 
 
 small clothes. Here, thought I, is a lessou for us. Our minds, 
 hearts, and lives must bear the right impressions, or we cannot pass 
 current in good society. Of little worth is he in life of whom 
 the smooth shilling is a type. The man on whom you can see no 
 head, or date, or stars, or pillar, or eagle — nothing by which it 
 could be guessed that he was " E Pluribus Unura," his expression 
 only the dull resemblance of tarnished silver, his eyes of pewter, 
 his soul unmarked with any trace or bound of moral obligation, 
 of generous sympathy, of Christian fervor, everybody is ready to 
 say of him, " it won't go, sir." It ought not to go. It has been 
 loosely drifting about long enough. It is time it was returned to 
 the mint as bullion, to be re-issued, to receive the stamp of man. 
 Ah ! there is the fault with him. It was the original sin of his 
 education, that no deep, strong, correct impressions v/as made upon 
 his nature. He had no pious mother to furrow his soul with 
 tears; no godly father to drive landmarks deep into the substance 
 of his spiritual existence. The pulpit did not rise along the mar- 
 gin of his affections, the breastwork of faith and hope, and fear of 
 God. The associations of the Bible were unknown or unheeded, so 
 that no image or superscription of divine truth w^as ever inscribed 
 upon him when in the mint of bis years — his plastic infancy. 
 The world, the tiesh, and Satan, have made him rough enough, but 
 no trace of the divine government is on him — no stamp of the 
 powers above. He is smooth for all such impressions, and there- 
 fore, he cannot pass current. 
 
 THE POOE BOY AXD THE EECTOE. 
 
 An indigent boy applied for alms at the house of an avaricious 
 rector, and received a dry, mouldy crust. The rector inquired of 
 the bi»y if he could say the Lord's prayei', and w^as answered in the 
 negative. " Tiien," said the rector, " I will teach you that. Our 
 P'ather !" — " Our Father P' said the boy. "Is he my Father as 
 well as yours ?" " Yes, certainly." " Then," asked the boy, " how 
 could you give your poor brother this mouldy crust of bread ?" 
 
238 
 
 HOW A STORY GROWS. 
 
 HOW A STOEY GEOWS. 
 
 FARMER once was told that his turnip field liad been 
 ( robbed, and that the robbery liad been committed 
 ■i by a poor inoffensive man, of the name of Palmer, 
 who, many of the people of the vilhige said, had 
 taken away a wagon load of turnips. Farmer Brown, 
 much exasperated by the loss of his turnips, determined 
 to prosecute poor Palmer with all the severity of the law. With 
 this intention he went to Molly Sanders, the washerwoman, who 
 had been busy in spreading the report, to know the whole truth ; 
 but Molly denied ever having said anything about a wagon load 
 of turnips. It was but a cart load that Palmer had taken, and 
 Dame Ilodson, the huckster, had told her so, over and over again. 
 The farmer, hearing this, went to Dame Hodson, who said that 
 Molly Sanders was always making things worse than they really 
 were ; that Palmer had taken only a luheelbarrow fall of turnips, 
 and that she had her account from Jenkins, the tailor. Away 
 went the farmer to Jenkins the tailor, who stoutly denied the ac- 
 count altogether; he had only told Dame Ilodson that Palmer had 
 pulled up several turnips, but how many he could not tell, for that 
 he did not see him himself, but was told it by Tom Slack, the 
 plowman. Wondering where this would end. Farmer Brown next 
 questioned Tom Slack who, in his turn, declared he had never said 
 a word about seeing Palmer pull up several turnips ; he only said, 
 he had heard say that Palmer had pulled up a turnip, and that 
 Barnes, the barber, was the person who had told him about it. 
 The farmer, almost out of patience at this account, huriied off to 
 Barnes, the barber ; who wondered much that people should find 
 pleasure in spreading idle tales which had no truth in them ! He 
 assured the farmer that all he had said about the matter, while he 
 took off the beard of Tom Slack, was, that /or all he knew, Palmer 
 was as likely a man to pull up a turnip as his neighbors. 
 
THE editor's table TALK. 
 
 239 
 
 THE EDITOR'S TABLE TALK. 
 
 <3(f^^s^ 
 
 CR fiiend and assistant S. N. has at last been 
 
 ^ ,^. heard fiom. Well, I am glad of it, and so, no 
 
 riv V' ^"^^^"^ doubt, are you. It seems that I took a little too 
 (i )^^ much for granted, when I ventured to tell what she 
 would do among the polar bears. I have just received a 
 o;ood-natured note from her. I wonder whether she 
 meant to have it printed. I'll ask her, I guess. But would it not 
 be safer to print it first, and ask her consent afterwards ? 
 
 Now Uncle Frank (so reads the note) defend me from furnishing 
 amusement to polar bears, as I imagine their chief amusement con- 
 sists in masticatory exercises ; although one huge bear in Montreal 
 amused me not a little by his dignifie-d imitations of the soldiers 
 while practicing their military evolutions. One of our friends, 
 pointing out the different officers, said, " That is Colonel so and so, 
 and that is Captain so and so ;" " and that I suppose," said I, point- 
 ing to Mr. Bear, "is Ursa Major." I meant to be very funny, but 
 nobody laughed ! 
 
 I did think, while sailing up the river towards the Sault Ste. 
 Marie, that 1 was approaching the confines of Terra Incognita. A 
 wigwam here and there, and occasionally a small frame house, the 
 residence of a priest, with a crucifix twice its height in front of it, 
 was all that told of civilization. The Indians in that part of the 
 country are chiefly Catholics. But w^hen we reached the Sault, 
 and saw Lake Superior stretching westward in its mightiness, we 
 began to think that we had not yet quite reached the big hole 
 which the sun goes into every night. 
 
 Have you ever been to the Sault, Uncle Frank ? Have you ever 
 seen the rapids there ? Did you fish for speckled trout in the little 
 rapid on the Canada side, and then come down the large rapid on 
 
240 THE editor's table talk. 
 
 the American side in a bark canoe, with an Indian in each end of 
 it, guiding the frail thing with poles past the rocks, which threat- 
 ened death and destruction as it went dashing by, through the 
 roaring, rushing, foaming, furious breakers? and when you arrived 
 at the dock alongside of your old friend, the steamboat, did you feel 
 a supreme sense of thankfulness at your safety, and a keen percep- 
 tion of your rashness and temerity in what you had just done ? 
 You never did ? Well, / know some one who did, and felt all 
 that ! But here I am at home again, and cordially greet all " in- 
 quiring friends." s. n. 
 
 AVhy does not some one answer that prize charade in prose, to 
 be found in the September number? It is a capital thing, boys 
 and girls. Why don't you answer it ? You needn't all speak at 
 once. One at a time, and the discourse will last the longer. But 
 look here, little folks. Don't you be deluded into the notion that 
 B, c. J. has a word with three syllables in his mind, because he 
 never thought of such a thing. Three zoords, not syllables^ are to 
 be conjured up. In this case, it seems, a word to the wise is not 
 sufficient, not (piite sufficient. 
 
 And then there is the riddle within a charade. Have you aban- 
 doned that thing ? You had better not give it up so. Take my 
 word for it, that riddle is solvable. Solve it then in season to get 
 the solution into the December number. You'll have to hurry to 
 to do it though. That's a fact. Time, tide, and Uncle Frank 
 wait for no man, and but seldom for women and children. 
 
 My unknown correspondent at Glen's Falls is informed, in answer 
 to his (or her) question, that I should like to hear from him (or 
 her) again, and fjequently. 
 
 NOTICES OF RECENT PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 1. Messrs. Dcwitt tfe Davenport, of this city, have just issued a 
 
 neat edition of Jfak Hardlestone ; or, the Two Brothers, by Mrs. 
 
 , Moodie, sister of Agnes Strickland, author of " Roughing it in the 
 
 Bush," &c. It is a charming collection of home pictures ; and all 
 
 those whose literary appetites are not spoiled by such trash as comes 
 
THE editor's table TALK. 241 
 
 from the pen of Sue, Bulwer, and George Sand, will be delighted 
 with and profited by it. 
 
 2. The Shawm. " And what is a shawm ?" An instrument 
 of music. " What kind of an instrument ?" Ah, there you are 
 too hard for me. But it was used in the service of the Jewish 
 temple, and I don't doubt it was a very important instrument. 
 Well, the name of this instrument, which you will find in the 
 Psalms, accoiding to the version of the Scriptures called the 
 " Bishop's Bible," and also in the Prayer Book, Messrs. Mason 
 Brothers, of this city, have given to " a library of music, embrac- 
 ing about one thousand pieces, consisting of psalm and hymn 
 tnnes adapted to any metre in use, anthems, chants, and set pieces." 
 And this " library of music," please to take notice, is comprised in 
 a single volume, and sold at the same price of ordinary collec- 
 tions of church music. My talented friend Mr. Bradbury, who has 
 done so much to please the readers of the Cabinet in the musical 
 department, is the principal editor of the book, and it is to him that 
 we are indebted for some of the best tunes in the collection. Mr. 
 Ptoot, also, assisted in the compilation and authorship of the work, 
 and so did Messrs. Thomas Hastings and T. B. Mason. I like the 
 work, on the whole, exceedingly. It is beautifully printed, on fine, 
 though clean and legible type. Old tunes and new are happily 
 commingled, and there is variety enough to suit the taste of every 
 one. It must become a great favorite ; without disparaging other 
 books, some of which are good old friends which I would not part 
 with on any account, I am strongly inclined, taking into view the 
 quantity and the quality of the music, to give this collection the 
 preference over them all. Those choirs who adopt the book will 
 never complain, I am sure, that they have not got the worth of 
 their money. 
 
 3. Lucretia, the Quakeress ; or, Principle Triumphant, is a little 
 volume from the pen of our personal friend and valued correspond- 
 ent, Mrs. J. H. Hanaford, of Nantucket. It is an exceedingly 
 pleasant narrative, which few can read without interest and profit. 
 Published by Mr. Bufium, Cornhill, Boston. 
 
 VOL. IV. 11 nn 
 
242 
 
 THE PUZZLER S DRAWER. 
 
 THE PUZZLEE'S DEAWER. 
 
 ANSWER TO AN ENIGMA FOR FRENCH SCHOLARS. 
 " HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE." 
 
 Answered by Caroline M. P. 
 
 ANSWER TO RIDDLE NO. IV. 
 
 A Drop of Ink. 
 
 ANSWER TO ENIGMA NO. V. 
 " Let NOTHING BAD ENTER HERE." 
 
 Answered by S. E. Wilson, of South Hanover, Ind. ; Alvaro F. Gib- 
 bens, of Parkersbnrg, Va. ; Russell S. Avery, of Norway, N. Y. ; Ed- 
 ward "Win slow. 
 
 answer to names of counties in the western states, 
 enigmatically expressed. 
 
 1. Mad-i-son. 4. Bent-gn. 6. Call-away. 
 
 2. Lap-eer. 6. Black-hawk. 7. Log-an. 
 
 3. Mars-hall. 
 
 Answered by J. of Glenn's Falls, N. Y. ; Anna Quackenbush, of 
 Schenectady, N. Y. 
 
 answer to the prize charade in verse. 
 Portugal. 
 Answered by J. of Glenn's Falls, N. Y. ; S. N. of Brooklyn, N. Y. ; 
 M. H. Williams, of Terry ville, Ct. 
 
 might 
 man w 
 nirain, 
 
 ANSWER TO THE DOG PUZZLE. 
 
 I drew two lines from the fore-quarters 
 of each dog to the hind-quarters of each 
 other, but it took four lines, Uncle Frank, 
 to make them both run off. s. n. 
 
 Uncle Frank was not quite definite 
 enough in his statement. He meant two 
 lines for each dog, whereas what he said 
 be taken to mean only that number for both dogs. That gentle- 
 ill please to have his wits about him, should he "'go to the dogs" 
 and give every dog his due. 
 
DEAWER. 24:8 
 
 The proper number of lines, properly drawn, are indicated in the 
 diagram. The dogs, you all see, are running as if they were on the 
 fresh track of a fox, and expected to come up^vith him in a few min- 
 utes at the outside. 
 
 The puzzle was also solved by J. of Glenn's Falls, N. Y. ; U. J. R. 
 of New Philadelphia, O. ; M. A. A. Phinney, of Vernon Centre, N. Y. 
 
 answer to rebus no. ii. 
 
 August, Augusta. 
 
 Answered by J. of Glenn's Falls, N. Y. ; M. H. Williams, of Terry ville, 
 
 Ct. ; Henry Quackenbush and Anna Quackenbush, of Schenectady, N. 
 
 Y. ; M. A. A. Phinney, of Vernon Centre, N. Y. ; U. J. R. of New 
 
 Philadelphia, O. 
 
 ANSWER TO BUDGET OF ANAGRAMS NO. II. 
 
 S. N. who is pretty good authority in such matters, says this is the 
 best budget of the kind she has seen for a long time. The writer will 
 please to take the hint, and write some more equally good. 
 
 1. Time ends rage, Disagreement. 
 
 2. Wild glen, Dwelling. 
 
 3. My curer. Mercury. 
 
 4. Wet hare. Weather. 
 6. I cheat SIR, Charities. 
 6. Past ruin, Puritans. 
 
 • 7. I STIR UP MEN, Puritanism. 
 
 8. Pure wolf, Powerful. 
 
 ANSWER TO riddle NO. V. 
 
 It must surely be moss that can winter defy, 
 And brighten the forest when merry leaves die ; 
 Which clings to the cottage, and dear churchyard wall, 
 The old ruined tower, and battlement tall ; 
 But with all that you've mentioned, why did you not tell 
 Of " the moss-covered bucket which hung in the well ?" s. n. 
 Also answered by Anna Quackenbush, of Schenectady, N. Y. 
 
 answer TO CHARADE NO. III. 
 CONNECT-I-CUT. 
 
 Answered by S. N. of Brooklyn, N. Y. ; M. A. A. Phinney, of Ver- 
 non Centre, N. Y. 
 
244 THE puzzlee's deawee. 
 
 ANSWER TO ENIGMA NO. VI. 
 
 "Oh! Jemmy help me find this out," 
 
 Hear little Clara cry; 
 So Jemmy sat right down and said, 
 
 " Yes, darling, I will try.'''' s. n. 
 
 Also answered by Henry Quaekenbush and Anna Quackenbush, of 
 Schenectady, N. Y. 
 
 CHARADE NO. IV. 
 
 When any one gets my first, his neighbors would do well to get my 
 second of him. My whole is a city wherein each man finds one mor- 
 tal above him. altquis. 
 
 ANAGRAMS OF SCRIPTURE PROPER NAMES, NO. I. 
 
 1. Reach old Rome, 3. Ice on a Dam. 
 
 2. A Bachelor, and mad. 4. I shod Peter. 
 
 ALIQUIS. 
 RIDDLE NO. VII. 
 
 T have a little box, that contains f»ometliing very precious to mo. It 
 is a work of exquisite art, and said by our blessed Saviour to be the 
 peculiar object of his Father's care ; and yet it does not display the 
 attributes of benevolence or compassion. If I were to lose it, no hu- 
 man ingenuity could replace it, and yet to describe it generally, it is 
 very abundant. It was given to Adam in Pariidise along with liis beau- 
 tiful Eve, though he previously had it in his possession. It will last 
 as long as the world exists ; and yet it is destroyed every day. Its ex- 
 istence is cut short ; and yet it dies not, but continues in beauty after 
 the grave has closed over mortality. It is to be found in the ocean and 
 in all parts of the earth ; while three distinct portions of it are contained 
 in air. It is seen on the bloody field of battle, in the thickest of the 
 carnage; and yet it is a boon of affection, a token of amity, a pledge 
 of sweet and innocent love. The Indian glories in it, and generally 
 loses it only with his life. It has been used as a napkin, and was said 
 by an ancient king to form a splendid crown ; it indeed appears like 
 silver, after long exposure to the air. 
 
 No human being but myself knows this riddle, and yet it proceeds 
 wholly from the head of another. marietta. 
 

 
 
 ^.^-- 
 
 
THK FLYING FISH IN TROLDLK, 
 
THE FLYING FISH AND HIS ENEMIES. 247 
 
 THE FLYma FISH AND HIS ENEMIES. 
 
 F there was ever a poor fellow to be pitied, it is the 
 flying fish. He is game both for the fowls of the 
 ail" and his brother fisjies of the sea. Sometimes a 
 . -^ hungry shark or dolphin will chase a shoal of these 
 «r*^ flying fish. The monster — monster to them — terrifies them 
 ^ ' half out of their wits. They try their best to keep out of the 
 ^ way of him. But it is of no use. Although they can scud 
 through the water as fast as most of their neighbors, the shark can 
 outstrip them in a long pull. Flying fish have fins which serve to 
 some extent the purposes of wings, and it is from this circumstance 
 that they take their name. Well, when these poor fugitives find 
 that there is no safety for them in their native element, they have 
 recourse to their flying apparatus. " Theie is one thing you can't 
 do, old fellow" — I suppose such to be their thoughts, though I 
 fi-ankly confess that I never heard them actually use such lan- 
 guage — " there's one thing you can't do. It takes us to do that." 
 And so they fly quite out of the water, away from the jaws of the 
 shark ; for the shark can only just thrust his head out of the 
 water, and has no power to follow his prey in their airy flights. 
 " However," he thinks to himself, " you little fools ! you can't stay 
 up there many minutes ; I know what you can do, and what you 
 can't do; you'll have to tumble down here soon ; and I guess I'll 
 wait for you, as I have plenty of leisure on hand, and can spare 
 ten minutes as well as not." And so they do get tired of fluttering 
 there in the air, at that rate ; and besides, they don't find that ele- 
 ment quite so good for their health as water ; so down they come; 
 and the shark pounces upon them, and swallows each one at a 
 mouthful. 
 
 A gentleman was once making a voyage, when he saw some 
 flying fish about as badly oft' as a fish could be, unless he were ac- 
 tually in the frying-pan. A shoal of them were pursued by a huge 
 
248 THE FLYING FISH AIST) HIS EN^EMIES. 
 
 dolphin, until tliey took to their wings. But as soon as they ven- 
 tured above the water, a couple of eagles made their appearance, 
 and showed unmistakable evidence of their intention to make a 
 meal of the poor adventurers. So between the hawks above water 
 and the dolphin below it, the fish were in a sad dilemma. Be- 
 tween these enemies on both sides of there, they were nearly all 
 killed. The eagles took a share, and the dolphin greedily seized all 
 that were left. Tlie gentleman told the captain that his notions 
 of justice were somewhat outraged by the spectacle. It seemed Jto 
 him that the flying fish had too many enemies by as much as one, 
 and he moved that something be done about it. The captain 
 laughed, and sent below for his rifle. The landsman told him he 
 was for letting oflf a canister of grape from one of the deck-guns. 
 He didn't believe his rifle would reach as far as the birds then 
 were from the ship. " Can't waste so much powder over such 
 game, Tom," said the captain, as he carefully loaded his piece. 
 " Walker, throw over some bits of the dol])hin we cauglit yester- 
 day, to draw tliose birds nearer." The plan took. The birds 
 seemed to prefer their food without wings, and in heavier morsels 
 than the poor little flying fish afforded. They perceived at a won- 
 derful distance, that something had been thrown from the deck 
 into the water, and came butloting each other towards the stern to 
 reach it. The ship was moving before a light bi'eeze, which only 
 filled her top-sails, and the bait had fallen but about twenty rods 
 astern, when the birds splashed greedily down upon the pieces. 
 The captain's rifle cracked at the moment, and the ringleader was 
 shot. He rose a few feet, and fell heavily into the water. His 
 comrades, in great fright, took a bee line away from the vessel. 
 
 The next day, the gentleman saw hundreds of flying fish in the 
 air at once, with all their old enemies in full chase. Several of the 
 frightened creatures actually fell upon deck, which was " out of the 
 frying-pan into the fire," sure enough, for the passengers were too 
 ea^er to examine them, to think of returning any of them to the 
 water. 
 
RAMBLES IN BOLOGNA. 
 
 RAMBLES m BOLOGNA. 
 
 ?oL^^ 
 
 '- OST people, when they hear the name of Bologna 
 ^\I^^^ ^ mentioned, think of sausages at once. Many, 
 ^ ^ *" indeed, have got the notion that this city is fa- 
 ^' mens for little else besides these articles. But I can as- 
 ^ sure you, reader, if you be among the number, that you 
 T are greatly mistaken. Sausages, it is true, there are in 
 this place — mammoth ones, many of which contain a whole ox — 
 but there are other noteworthy things here, too. 
 
 The people — I am not sure that it is quite proper to call them 
 things^ though — are worth noticing. They are very unlike many 
 other people in Italy. So little, in fact, do they resemble the Ro- 
 mans or the Florentines, that you could hardly believe they be- 
 longed to the same nation. And in fact they do not, to all intents 
 and purposes, belong to the same nation. Like other provinces in 
 Italy, they retain a great many of the peculiarities which they had 
 before they were under their present despotism, and while they 
 were an independent state. They take a good deal of pnde in 
 their city. One day, while I was there, I was looking from one of 
 the highest towers upon the to\vn and the surrounding country. 
 The guide whom I employed either could not or would not tell me 
 half what I wanted to know of the different points of interest within 
 the range of our vision. A fine-looking youth, perceisnng, I sup- 
 pose, that I was in " pursuit of knowledge under difficulties," vol- 
 unteered to aid me. I had been talking to the guide in French. 
 The lad, too, spoke in French, and very politely and patiently an- 
 swered innumerable questions which I asked him. As I thanked 
 him for his kindness, I said, " You are a Frenchman, I perceive. 
 How does it happen that you are so well acquainted here ?" " Oh, 
 no, sir," said he, " I am not a Frenchman." " Indeed !" I replied, 
 
 VOL. IV. 11* DR 
 
250 RAMBLES IN BOLOGNA. 
 
 " I should not dream you were an Italian, you speak French so 
 well." " And I am not an Italian," said he, drawing himself up 
 somewhat proudly, " I am a Bolognese !" 
 
 Bologna is situated in the Pope's dominions. We crossed the 
 Papal frontier, on our way from Florence, at a small place the 
 name of which I did not ascertain, where the officers of his Holi- 
 ness detained the diligence a long time, both to make themselves 
 doubly satisfied — theie were two of them — that there were no 
 knaves among us who were trying to cheat so holy a man as St. 
 Peter's successor, and at the same time to relieve us of a few frane^ 
 for their own individual benefit. The city is very picturesquely 
 situated, in a fertile plain of considerable extent at the foot of the 
 lower slopes of the Aj>ennines. It is surrounded by a high brick 
 wall, from five to six miles in circuit. A little river, called the 
 Lavena, flows just outside the wall, and a canal, connecting this 
 stream with the Reno, passes through the city. It is said to con- 
 tain a population, at present, of some seventy thousand. The wall 
 of the city has twelve gates. 
 
 A remarkable feature in this city is its extensive colonnades, 
 similar to those at Padua. Whole streets for miles in extent, are 
 furnished with these colonnades, covered porticoes running along 
 over the sidewalks. Tiiey are very convenient in a hot sun or in 
 rain, though in some parts of the city they are rather low, and give 
 an air of heaviness and gloom to the buildings. 
 
 Bologna is a very old city. The people can trace their history 
 np to the time of the Etruscans, a date a good deal earlier than the 
 Roman empire. It is supposed to have been founded nearly 600 
 years before Christ. 
 
 This city has furnished more remarkable painters than almost 
 any other in Italy. In Bologna originated the celebrated school 
 of the Caracci family, which accomplished an entire revolution in 
 the art of painting. The school wjis founded by Lodovico Caracci, 
 a young man who, in his early career, exhibited but very few marks 
 of genius. Some historian has remarked concerning him, that he 
 appeared for some years much more fit to grind paint than to lay 
 it on the canvas. In after years, however, he obtained a very dif- 
 ferent reputation. In his school he was assisted by his cousins 
 
RAMBLES IN BOLOGNA. 251 
 
 Agostino and Annibale Caracci. They succeeded in attracting a 
 crowd of pupils, and their school became famous all over the civil- 
 ized world. Domenichino, who has by some been considered next 
 to Raphael in genius, was a pupil in this school. Guido, scarcely 
 less celebrated, also studied here. 
 
 I saw very few picture galleries in Europe which interested me 
 more than that of the Academia delle Belle Arte, which I suppose 
 I need not tell you means the Academy of Fine Arts. There is 
 no charge for admission here. You will wonder at this. But you 
 will wonder still more, when I tell you that the same is true of 
 nearly all the finest collections of paintings and statuary in Italy. 
 There is no charge at the great galleries at Florence — none at the 
 Vatican in Rome. I obtained a catalogue of the pictures in the 
 academy at Bologna, and marked on it those pictures which de- 
 lighted me most. I could chat with you half a day about these 
 pictures ; but presuming you would grow sleepy over the subject — 
 for nobody can describe works of art so as to infuse much of the 
 enthusiasm which he felt into the listener or the reader — I will 
 ghde hurriedly through the gallery, and soon conduct you to other 
 points of attraction. I cannot, however, help noticing two or three 
 of the pictures. The " Crucifixion," by Guido, is one of the finest 
 representations of this sublime scene which I ever saw. You can- 
 not imagine how happily are brought out, in this sketch, the agony 
 of our Saviour, the gentle love and adoration of John, the beloved 
 disciple, the fervent feeling of Mary Magdalene, who is kneeling 
 and embracing the cross. Another picture by the same master, is 
 very finely executed. It is the " Victory of Samson over the Phil- 
 istines." The sketch is so managed that there is nothing bar- 
 barous or forbidding delineated in it, but the story is told in a 
 most wonderfully truthfid and eff"ective manner. Guido has a pic- 
 ture of St. Sebastian too, which, in my humble judgment, is the 
 best of all the St. Sebastians I saw in Europe, not less, I think, to 
 speak within bounds, than some two hundred. Of the pictures of 
 the Caracci family, those which especially pleased me were a " Ma- 
 donna and Child ;" " Transfiguration ;" " Nativity of John the 
 Baptist ;" " The Last Communion of St. Jerome." 
 
 The University library is well worth a visit. It contains 140,000 
 
252 RAMBLES IN BOLOGNA. 
 
 volumes o' books and 9,000 manuscripts of note. Among the 
 printed books in this library, is one which I am sure you would 
 give all your old shoes to see. It is the book which the arrogaat 
 Henry VIII. of England wrote against one Martin Luther, in order> 
 at the same time to get the credit of being a wonderful scholar and 
 to secure a large share of the favor of the Pope. How successful 
 he was in these aims, you are well aware. Nobody but the despi- 
 cable courtiers who fawned upon him and trembled on their knees 
 before him, ever gave him a thimble-full of credit for being a 
 learned man ; and as to the other thing, the Pope quareled with 
 him, and he had to break off from Kome altogether, and set up 
 for himself — the very thing that Luther taught him to do. Henry's 
 famous book is entitled " Assertio Septem Sacramentorum adversus 
 Martinum Lutherum. London, 1512." It is dedicated to Leo X. 
 and has affixed to the dedication the king's autograph signature, 
 Henricus Rex. My readers who understand Latin will not need 
 to have me translate the title of the book for them, it is to be pre- 
 sumed. 
 
 This library will ever be memorable on account of its connec- 
 tion with one of the most remarkable scholars of any age. Cardinal 
 Mezzofanti, who began his career as its librarian. He was the son 
 of a humble tradesman in the city. So early as the time when 
 he filled the chair of Professor of Greek and Oriental Literature in 
 this university, he was celebrated all over Europe for his aston- 
 ishing knowledge of languages. At the age of thirty-six, Mezzo- 
 fanti read twenty different languages, and conversed fluently in 
 eighteen ; and at the time of his death, which took place in the 
 year 1849, he spoke well forty-two languages. I have been in- 
 formed by one who passed an hour or two in his company at 
 Rome, that he was perfect master of all the modern languages, 
 and spoke them with all the fluency of a native. Mezzofanti was 
 called to Rome and created a cardinal by Gregoj-y XVI. 
 
 Bologna, like all the rest of the Italian cities, abounds in mag- 
 nificent churches. The church under the patronage, as its name 
 signifies, of St. Stephen, is one of the most remarkable. It is 
 formed by the union of seven churches, or chapels. Here they 
 show us a miraculous well, to the water of which was imparted, 
 
RAMBLES IN BOLOGISTA. 253 
 
 through a miracle of St. Petronio, some most extraordinary quali- 
 ties. What the peculiar qualities were, I could not find out ; but 
 they were deemed of so great value, that this saint had a splendid 
 marble sepulchre erected for him here, and it is pointed out to 
 the visitor with very great veneration. The Cathedral, dedicated 
 to St. Peter, is a very ancient church, though the present edifice 
 was begun as late as 1601. In one of the chapels of this church 
 is preserved the skull of St. Anna, presented in 1435 by Henry VI. 
 of England. The largest church in Bologna is that of San Pe- 
 tronio. It was founded in 1390, while Bologna was a repubhc. It 
 is still in an unfinished state, but a vast amount of labor and im- 
 mense sums of money have been expended upon it. It is said to 
 be one of the finest specimens of the Italian Gothic of the four- 
 teenth century. It was in this church that the emperor Charles V. 
 was crowned by Pope Clement VII. In the church of San Dom- 
 enic is the tomb of the patron saint, the founder of the Inquisi- 
 tion. Here, too, they show us the head of this saint. It is in- 
 closed in a silver case weighing one hundred and fourteen pounds. 
 It was placed there in 1383. 
 
 There are two leaning towers in Bologna, standing within a few 
 yards of each other. One is called the Torre Asinelli, and the 
 other To7're Garisenda. They were both originally much higher 
 than the leaning tower of Pisa, though a considerable portion of 
 one of them, on account of its having been deemed unsafe, was 
 torn down some years since. I went to the top of the Asinelli 
 tower. I had before become quite accustomed to climbing towers, 
 spires, and campaniles ; and this ascent, though embracing nearly 
 four hundred and fifty steps, seemed no great achievement. This 
 tower was begun in 1109, by Gerardo Asinelli. Its inclination in 
 1706, as recorded by an inscription on the wall, was ascertained, 
 by careful measurement, to be three feet and two inches. After a 
 severe earthquake, which took place in 1779, it was again meas- 
 ured, but no alteration was discovered. But in 1813, the inclina- 
 tion was found to have slightly increased. The staircase by which 
 we ascend is a very rude one, quite impracticable for timid climbers. 
 The view from the top is fine in the extreme. I was well paid for 
 the fatigue of going up. Bologna appears to very good advantage 
 
254 DR. Johnson's courtship. 
 
 in the foreground, and on all sides the distant view is charming. 
 Here, as on a map, we can see the Apennines, the cities of Ferrara, 
 Padua, Verona, Modena, and Iraola, with nameless villages of less 
 note. 
 
 The other tower no one is permitted to ascend. Its inclination 
 before it was decapitated was eight feet to the east and three to 
 the south. 
 
 The day after my arrival in Bologna, was a holiday. The city 
 was full of people from the country. One would have thought, to 
 witness the appearance of its streets, that all the people for miles 
 around had flocked together here. •It was with the utmost difll- 
 culty that one could walk the streets at all, in the middle of the 
 day. " And what was the occasion of this holiday ?" you inquire. 
 It was the birth-day of a favorite Bolognese saint. They told me 
 his name, but I forggt it. On this occasion the effigy of the saint 
 is borne on a litter, and thousands of soldiers and private citizens 
 march in procession through the city, with music. These proces- 
 sions are common all over Italy. I saw them in Verona, Florence, 
 Rome, and Naples. In the latter city — I don't know how it is in 
 other provinces — the people are all required to close their places 
 of business on these ffete days ; and if any one chooses to disobey 
 the order, ho is liable to a heavy fine and imprisonment. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 When Dr. Johnson courted Mrs. Potter, whom he afterwards 
 married, he told her that he was descended from untitled ances- 
 tors, that he had no money, and tbat he once had an uncle 
 hung. The lady, as the story goes, by way of reducing herself to 
 the doctor's level, so that they could be married, replied that she 
 had no more money than himself, and that, though she did not 
 recollect ever having a relation hung, she knew of several who de- 
 served hanging. 
 
THE FORTUNE-TELLER. 
 
 255 
 
 THE FORTUNE-TELLER. 
 
 We have people in all parts of the world, I believe, who profess 
 to tell fortunes. But they are cheats, the whole of them. No 
 one can look into futurity, and foretell what is the destiny of 
 an individual. It is true, these professed fortune-tellers, after a long 
 practice, can make very shrewd guesses ; and it is the facility with 
 which they guess what is going to happen, that frequently gives 
 them the reputation they have. 
 
 There was an old woman in our neighborhood, when I was a 
 little boy, who did now and then an odd job at fortune-telling, and 
 oh how she imposed upon the credulity of the little folks in that 
 region. I never had my fortune told by the old woman. Not 
 that I had no mind to hear what she would say about my future 
 fortune, for, to tell the honest truth, I sometimes had a very strong 
 desire to know whether I was going to make a great man or not. 
 But my parents would not allow me to consult the fortune-teller. 
 They did not want to encourage such a trade as hei*s, because they 
 thought it was not only foolish but wicked. 
 
 My sister, however, once went to the fortune-teller's house, and 
 had her fortune told. Nobody knew she was going. If my pa- 
 
256 THE FORTUNE-TELLER. 
 
 rents had known her intention, they would have prevented the 
 visit. But Elizabeth kept her plan a secret. Through some means 
 or other, she got a quarter of a dollar, the price this old woman 
 charged for diving into the future, and off she went. 
 
 It was a long time after my sister's visit, that she revealed her 
 secret ; and the way she came to do it was this : Molly Dolbeare's 
 hut was only about -a quarter of a mile from my father's ; and one 
 day, when Elizabeth and I were passing the house in company, on 
 our way to the huckleberry woods, the old woman called to us, and 
 we stopped. 
 
 " Well, Libby," said Mrs. Dolbeare, " do you want your fortune 
 told again ?" 
 
 My sister thanked her, and shook her head, at the same time 
 blushing deepl}^ while the old fortune-teller laughed as if she 
 knew a capital joke. 
 
 We passed on. " What does all this mean, sister ?" I inquired. 
 "Have you really had your fortune told by that bad woman ?" 
 
 " Do you think Molly is a bad woman ?" my sister asked. 
 " She never seemed to me to be a bad woman, that is, not very 
 bad." 
 
 " I don't know how that is, dear," I replied, " but T do know 
 that mother thinks it is wrong to tell fortunes, and wrong to have 
 them told. But let me know all about it. You have been there, 
 I see that plainly enough, and you have had your fortune told, I 
 fear. What would mother say, if she should hear of it ?" 
 
 Elizabeth could not conceal the fault she had committed. She 
 told me the whole story, and I'll tell it to you, young reader. It 
 may prove of service to you in a w ay you do not dream of. 
 
 " Well, Molly," said my sister to the old woman, as she ap- 
 proached her lonely little house, and saw her standing under a tree 
 near the door, " well, Molly, I'm going to have my fortune told." 
 
 " You are, eh ?" 
 
 " Yes, I am, and the quicker you do it, the better. Here's the 
 money." And she threw down the quarter of a dollar. 
 
 Molly looked at her young customer with something like a leer 
 on her countenance. She knew us all as well, almost, as our own 
 mother did. She had often been at our house to wash and iron, 
 
THE FORTUNE-TELLEB. 257 
 
 and sometimes — if tlie truth must be told — to beg for cold meat. 
 She was very deliberate in all her movements, so much so, that 
 Eh'zabeth began to get impatient. By-and-bye, however, the old 
 lady, after carefully looking over some mysterious signs and figures, 
 took her customer's hand, and looked at the palm of it for some 
 minutes. At last she seemed to have got together all the morsels 
 of wisdom that were swimming about in her brain touching my 
 sister ; and she spoke very much as follows : 
 
 " I see, my young miss, that you are going to have a strange 
 fortune, a very strange fortune. 
 
 " Good, I hope ; isn't it, Molly ?" 
 
 " A very strange fortune, indeed. Before I tell you what is in 
 the future, let me inform you a little about the past. Your mother 
 doesn't like fortune-tellers. The stars tell me that. Well, when 
 you asked her a year ago or more, if you might come here and 
 let me tell you what was going to happen to you, she said you 
 must not come. And now, this morning, you have run away, 
 without your mother's consent. Yes, you have. You needn't 
 color up so. I could tell this, without all these blushes. Do you 
 think I read the stars for nothing ? Now, you must know what is 
 going to happen to you. By all means you must have your for- 
 tune told. You'll not mind your parents. You'll grow up a dis- 
 obedient girl. Of course, you will do just what you please, and 
 when you please, and go anywhere, at any time, whether your pa- 
 rents like it or not. Well, one of these days, you'll get to be a sort 
 of heathen girl, and it would be a great mercy if a missionary 
 should come some of these days, to try and make a decent Chris- 
 tian woman of you. As for a husband, you will never have one. No- 
 body wants a woman who has not been well brought up ; and you 
 certainly will hardly be brought up at all, at this rate. You'll conie 
 up yourself. You will become a thief, and one of these dark nights, 
 you'll wake up, and find yourself on a hard bed in prison, and" — 
 
 But Elizabeth had got fortune enough by this time, and she 
 started and ran home, crying all the way. The fortune-teller had 
 read her a charming lesson — quite different from the one she ex- 
 pected — and it did her a world of good. She told me she never 
 meant to disobey her parents again ; and I think she never did. 
 
258 A COLD WATER BALLAD. 
 
 A COLD WATER BALLAD. 
 
 BT JOHN G. SAXE. 
 
 There lived an honest fisherman, 
 I knew him passing well ; 
 
 He dwelt hard by a little pond, 
 Within a little dell. 
 
 A grave and quiet man was he. 
 Who loved his hook and rod; 
 
 So even ran his lines of life, 
 His neighbors thought it odd. 
 
 For science and for books, he said 
 
 He never had a wish; 
 No school to him was worth a fig. 
 
 Except a ^'school offish.'^ 
 
 This single-minded fisherman 
 
 A double calling had : 
 To tend his flocks in winter time, 
 
 In summer, fish for shad. 
 
 In short, this honest fisherman 
 
 All other toils forsook. 
 And though no vagrant man was he. 
 
 He lived by " hook and crook.'''' 
 
 All day that fisherman would sit 
 
 Upon an ancient log, 
 And gaze upon the water, like 
 
 Some sedentary frog. 
 
 A cunning fisherman was he. 
 His angles were all right ; 
 
 And when he scratched his aged poll^ 
 You'd know he'd got a bite. 
 
 To charm the fish he never spoke. 
 And, though his voice was fine, 
 
 He found the most convenient way 
 Was just to " drop a line" 
 
A GOOD GUN. 259 
 
 And many. a "gudgeon" of the pond, 
 
 If made to speak to-day, 
 Would own with grief, this angler had 
 
 A mighty " taking way.^"* 
 
 One day, while fishing on the log, 
 He mourned his want of luck; 
 
 "When suddenly he felt a bite, 
 And jerking — caught a " duckP 
 
 Alas ! that day the fisherman 
 
 Had taken too much grog. 
 And being but a landsman, too, 
 
 He couldn't ^^keep the log^ 
 
 In vain he strove with all his might, 
 And tried to gain the shore ; 
 
 Down, down he went to feed the fish 
 He'd baited oft before ! 
 
 The moral of this mournful tale 
 
 To all is plain and clear : 
 A single " drop too much" of rum, 
 
 May make a watery bier. 
 
 And he who will not " sign the pledge," 
 
 And keep the promise fast, 
 May be, in spite of fate, a stiff 
 
 Cold- Water man at last ! 
 
 A GOOD GUK 
 
 ' A COUNTRY farmer told a friend of his, who had come from 
 
 ' town for a few days' shooting, that he once had an excellent gun ; 
 
 : that it went off immediately upon a thief coming into the house, 
 
 i although not charged. 
 
 I " How is that ?" asked his friend. 
 
 ^ " Why," replied the farmer, " because the thief carried it off ; and 
 
 j what was worse, before I bad time to charge it." 
 
260 
 
 SOMETHING ABOUT HELPIN'G OTHERS. 
 
 SOMETHING ABOUT HELPUSTG OTHERS. 
 
 BY J. P. m'CORD. 
 
 ^^RE you not turning from your road, sir ?" said I one 
 \C day to a gentleman in whose carriage I was seated. 
 " Yes," he replied, " but I shall be helping you on 
 your way." 
 There was not the least doubt of that. I had no objec- 
 tion in the world, either, to all the help forward which he 
 was disposed to render me. My condition was such, that a little 
 favor of that kind would be as welcome and refreshing as a cup of 
 cold water to the thirsty traveler. 
 
 When he fell in with me, I was in the borders of a prosperous 
 village, proceeding to a dear spot some miles in the country. He 
 showed so much good-nature in his countenance — he turned back 
 upon me so kind a regard, even after he had passed mc — that I 
 had no hesitation in making a sign for him to stop and take me in. 
 I wish there were more such as I found him to be. He was not 
 of the sort whose smiles are a pleasant curl of the lip, and nothing 
 more — whose acts of kindness are apt to be accompanied with 
 feelings and tokens of reluctance. He was like an ojien book, 
 whose meaning lies clear on its pages, and fi-om which all receive 
 the same impressions. 
 
 Is it possible that I formed too favorable an opinion of him ? 
 May his good-nature, after all, have been a mere outside show ? I 
 think not ; and the reason for my conclusion you have ali-eady had 
 a hint of. When we came to the place where, of course, I expected 
 to be deposited, instead of keeping straight ahead on his own 
 course, he diverged to the road proper for me to take. Regard- 
 ing it as the simple result of inattention, I spoke out and told him 
 what he had done. " Yes," said he, " but I shall be helping you 
 
SOMETHING ABOUT HELPING OTHERS. 261 
 
 on your way." And on he drove, making a wide digression from 
 his proper course, for nothing else than my accommodation. 
 
 I have often thought of that man since. I hope I shall think 
 of him gratefully, for a long while to come. The principle of his 
 conduct struck me as peculiar, and worthy of imitation. Some are 
 ready enough to do a favor which costs them nothing, or which 
 they don't have to go out of their way for. Others, again, will do 
 you a favor if they expect to get paid for it, some way or other. 
 How few, indeed, are free from the secret influence of selfishness ! 
 How few bestow favors when they have not the least expectation 
 of being repaid ! How few will put themselves to trouble or in- 
 convenience, for the sake of helping or accommodating others ! 
 
 Is this too much to expect of people ? Suppose you were in 
 some sad case yourself; would you not look to your fellow-crea- 
 tures for relief ? would you not feel that they ought to incur trouble 
 and expense on your behalf? When others, then, stand in need 
 of assistance of any sort, may they not properly expect as much of 
 you ? Remember the law — " Whatsoever ye would that men 
 should do to you, do ye even so to them." 
 
 Why not carry about with you a little of the spirit enjoined in 
 this precept ? There are no lack of occasions to act it out. 
 
 See that poor old lame man, with a heavy basket on his arm. 
 Just carry it for him a while. Though it may be rather heavy for 
 you, never mind. You will be helping him along, for which he 
 will thank you heartily. 
 
 You have some money in your pocket, and you know how you 
 want to spend it. But, after all, can't you spare a part of it for 
 that ragged boy ? You will be doing him a kindness. 
 
 One of your acquaintances is sick. Go and minister to his wants, 
 or perform any service for him which his circumstances may re- 
 quire. Don't stop to consider to how much inconvenience you may 
 put yourself, but how useful you may be to him. 
 
 In all other cases give the proper aid or comfort. Think less 
 of your own expense, trouble, or inconvenience, than of the good 
 you may do, and the reward you will secure. 
 
262 
 
 THE PRETENDED MIRACLE, 
 
 THE PRETENDED MIRACLE. 
 
 
 HERE is a church at Neisse, in Silesia, owned by 
 the Jesuits, concerning wliich the following anec- 
 dote is told on the authority of a Prussian lieu- 
 tenant-colonel ; 
 The King of Prussia had ordered the Jesuits to retire 
 into the country to instruct the young. The church in 
 their absence was to be occupied as a magazine of pro- 
 visions for the soldiers, but great care was taken of the high altar 
 of the church, on account of the beauty of its construction. A ru- 
 mor was soon spread abroad, that a bright light illuminated the 
 high altar every night, and throngs gathered round the church. 
 At last the commandant of the fort went himself, when he found, 
 to his astonishment, that the whole church was so illuminated that 
 every part of it might be plainly seen through the windows. The 
 commandant immediately ordered the key to be brought, but as 
 soon as he set his foot in the church, it was once more obscured in 
 profound darkness. Not the least trace of light could be seen. 
 Lanterns were procured, but after the strictest search nothing was 
 found to clear up the mystery. The commandant left the church, 
 when immediately the high altar appeared covered with a blaze of 
 light. The following night sentinels were placed in the church, 
 but the edifice remained in darkness, and no light was observed 
 from within or without. The sentinels were discontinued, and once 
 more the high altar and the whole church were illuminated. The 
 commandant issued a proclamation, offering a reward to any per- 
 son who could unravel the mystery. For two days no one claimed 
 the reward : on the third, a common soldier belonging to the for- 
 tress, requested a private audience with the commandant. He 
 then explained to him that he was occasionally employed by an 
 
263 
 
 optician to put frames to mirrors and burning-glasses. One even- 
 ing, when at work at a large concave glass, the glass happened to 
 be so placed as to throw a light into the church. This was the 
 effect of accident, but finding the public curiosity excited, he im- 
 proved the circumstance, and often threw the light from an attic 
 window full upon the high altar. When sentinels were placed in 
 the church, he discontinued his frolic, lest he should be discovered, 
 but resumed it when the sentinels were taken away. The com- 
 mandant gave the promised reward to the soldier, and in a little 
 time the explanation was made public. 
 
 NAPOLEON'S HEAET. 
 
 A GREAT deal has been said about the heart as well as the head 
 of Napoleon ; but I do not remember to have seen the following 
 anecdote until quite recently : When Napoleon died at St. Helena, 
 it is well known that his heart was extracted, with the design of 
 being preserved. The British physician who had charge of that 
 wondrous organ, had deposited it in a silv^er basin, among water, 
 and retired to rest, leaving two tapers burning beside it in his 
 chamber. He often confesses to his friends, while narrating the 
 particulars, that he felt nervously anxious as the custodier of such 
 a deposit, and though he reclined, he did not sleep. While lying 
 awake, he heard, during the silence of the night, first a rustling 
 noise, then a plunge among the water in the basin, and the sound 
 of an object falling with a rebound on the floor — all occurring 
 with the quickness of thought. He sprang from his bed, and 
 the cause of the intrusion of his repose was soon explained. It 
 was an enormous rat, dragging the heart of Napoleon to his hole. 
 A few moments more, and that which before had been too vast 
 in its ambition to be satisfied with the sovereignty of continental 
 Europe, would have been found even in a more degraded posi- 
 tion than the dust of Caesar stopping a beer barrel — it would hav^ 
 been devoured as the supper of a rat. 
 
264 THE missionary's tour. 
 
 THE MISSIONAEY'S TOUR 
 
 ^JU.^^^''^^^^ 
 
 LEASE tell US a story, Uncle George," exclaimed a group 
 of little ones to their favorite uncle, one pleasant after- 
 noon. The good-natured gentleman complimented the 
 children on their quiet demeanor while he had been reading, 
 
 P and acceded to their request The story he told them was 
 in substance as follows : 
 
 " A missionary was stationed at a town on the coast of Burmah, 
 and left the mission in order to visit some heathen inhabiting the 
 Sulong islands. Of the second day's journey in their boat, the 
 missionary said in his journal, ' A beautiful day amid lovely scenery. 
 Yesterday we had mud flats, and low, muddy, mangrove shores, 
 washed by dingy water. To-day we sail in clear water, with nu- 
 merous bold, green islets near at hand, and several large mountain- 
 ous islands looming grandly in the distance. And the corals I 
 Such a submarine garden of stone- wrought shrubs and flowers I 
 never saw before. We have left behind us all permanent abodes 
 of men, the rovers among these islands being as unsettled as sea- 
 fowl — discovered none of them to day.' How should you like to 
 spend such a day, Charles ?" 
 
 " Oh," replied Charles, *' I should prefer it to doing anything 
 else, only I should wish to stop and obtain some corajs for my 
 cabinet." ' 
 
 " But," asked thoughtful James, " the missionary was not in 
 search of pleasure merely ; would he not rather meet the heathen, 
 that he might do them good ?" 
 
 " Even so," resumed Uncle George, " but for several days they 
 rowed from one sand-beach to another in vain. They were prob- 
 ably at the more distant islands, seeking for sea-slugs and shell-fish. 
 At one place the missionary saw a beautiful w^aterfall descending 
 perpendicularly fifty feet, down the precipitous bank of an island 
 into the sea. At last, one night, as they drew near a small island, 
 
THE missionary's TOUR. 265 
 
 they heard the sound of dogs barking, and shrill human voices on 
 the shore. They had now found a party of Salongs, but the de- 
 graded and ignorant people were afraid of them. The women 
 flung their infants on their backs, and prepared for flight. But at 
 lagt their fears were quelled, and the missionary spent the night 
 with them. About daylight, some boats left them for a fishing ex- 
 cursion, and returned with a large turtle, which formed a part of 
 their food." 
 
 " Were their boats like ours, uncle ?" 
 
 "No, they were vastly different. They select a tree, and hollow 
 out its trunk, spreading it open in the centre by means of fire ; this 
 makes a kind of canoe about three to five fathoms in length. 
 Placing bamboo splints along the sides, they insert, one above an- 
 other, the long, pithy leaf-stalks of a palmy plant, by which the 
 depth is increased a few feet. Their only tools are an adze, a 
 cleaver, and an auger. Their sail is very large for such a small, 
 weak boat, and is made by sewing long palm leaves together edge- 
 wise. They twist their ropes from a species of ratan, and they are 
 very strong. These boats being very light and well-modeled for 
 speed, will compete with any in swiftness. Unlike the Chinese 
 boatmen, the Salongs never live in their boats, but erect temporary 
 sheds upon the beaches, made of poles, and thatch them with palm 
 leaves, with which leaves they also cover their boats. Palm leaf 
 mats form an excellent defence against both sun and rain." 
 
 " How I should have liked a place in the missionary's boat," said 
 Charles, " I could have seen so many strange and beautiful sights." 
 
 " The party met with one adventure you would not have liked. 
 Late one night a tiger visited them, and they sought eagerly for 
 their weapons, but the loud shouts of the coolies, or native boat- 
 men, frightened him away. Then the natives were part of the 
 time intoxicated, and once two women, who were sisters, fought 
 with each other. Unacquainted with their language, the mission- 
 ary could tell them but little of God's word. But he enjoyed, him- 
 self, an excellent' opportunity of beholding the marvelous works of 
 the Deity. On one island a sharp promontory juts out, the base 
 of which is penetrated by numerous caverns. Into these the sea 
 continually poured a heavy swell, which roared through the dark 
 
 VOL. IV. 12 DB 
 
A RIDE ON THE BACK OF A HYENA. 
 
 vaults, littering music befitting the scene, as they gazed up the 
 dizzy steep from which sea-birds, perched mid- way, looked down 
 unconcerned upon them. The missionary went with the Salongs 
 to see them gather turbos^ a species of large, spiral, shell-fish, which 
 when boiled and smoked is a saleable article in the Chinese mar- 
 ket. Five females rowed the boat in which he went, while one man 
 steered, and when the sunken rocks to which the fish clung were 
 reached, and their boat anchored, those five young girls plunged 
 into the water, and swam, diving after the shells like so many mer- 
 maids. But I must cease my long account now, and leave you to 
 rejoice that you dwell in a Christian land ; for however you might 
 like to see these strange people and far-off places, there is, after all, 
 no place like your own happy home." j. h. hanaford. 
 
 A KIDE ON THE BACK OF A HYENA. 
 
 Dr. Sparman tells a curious story of a hyena, which was told him 
 at the Cape of Good Hope. One night the soldiers had a feast near 
 the Cape, when one of them who was a trumpeter drank so much 
 that he could not stand up. His companions, not wanting him in 
 the room, carried him out of doors and laid him down beside the 
 house to get cool and sober. The trumpeter laid there and went to 
 sleep, when a hyena came along, and thinking liim dead, began to 
 carry him away, so as to make a meal of him undisturbed. It was 
 some time before the man awoke so as to know the danger of his 
 situation. When he did so, he found himself on the back of a 
 hyena, which was making off toward the mountain with him as fast 
 as possible. Being horror-struck at finding himself in the power 
 of the ferocious beast, his fear brought him to his senses, and seiz- 
 ing his trumpet, which hung around his neck, he sounded an alarm. 
 The beast, thinking he had only a dead man, was as much fright- 
 ened at the sound of the trumpet as the man was at his situation ; 
 so, dropping his prey, they scampered away from each other as 
 fast as possible. It is not probable that any other man but the 
 ti'umpeter would have escaped as easily. 
 
PORTRAIT OF GENERAL CAVAIGNAa 
 
GENERAL EUGENE CAVAIGNAC. 
 
 269 
 
 .GENERAL EUGENE CAYAIGNAC. 
 
 ^^^^r^^s^ 
 
 |o not suppose, reader, that because I now and then 
 stumble upon a military character, and give you 
 a slight sketch of his life and career, I have a 
 %^\ vast amount of revei-ence for military heroes, or that I 
 1 Jh^' consider the achievements of such men necessarily as a 
 
 ^ "> great benefit to mankind. I have no very ardent love 
 for the trade of war. Either because I am a coward, or for some 
 other reason, I always thought I should make a poor fist at fight- 
 ing. I should dislike to be shot. It never seemed to me that I 
 should ever get so used to having bullet-holes made in difierent 
 parts of my body, that I should really enjoy it. Then I should not 
 much like to shoot another man, unless it was very carefully, so 
 that the shot would not hurt him. I verily believe that if I should 
 by any chance persuade myself that I had killed a man, I should 
 sleep badly nights. 
 
 Nevei'theless, there must be military heroes, I suppose, and so 
 their deeds must be recorded, and so, too, there must be people to 
 record them. General Cavaignac is such a hero. Therefore his 
 deeds must be recorded. 
 
 This man is an illustration among many which could be pre- 
 sented, of the way men go suddenly up on the wheel of fortune in 
 France, and then go suddenly down again. General Cavaignac 
 had once almost imperial power in France. Though he had not 
 the name, he was clothed with the authority of dictator, or perhaps 
 I should say he assumed it. 
 
 He was born in the year 1802. He belonged to a republican 
 family. One of his brothers was for some time editor of a liberal 
 paper called La Reforme. Eugene was educated for a military 
 career. In 1830, we find him openly avowing revolutionary prin- 
 
270 GENERAL EUGENE CAVAIGNAC. 
 
 ciples. While in garrison, one day, he was asked by his colonel 
 if he would obey orders to fire on the populace, in case of an insur- 
 rection. He replied decidedly and peremptorily that he would not. 
 In consequence of this conduct, he was sent by the government into 
 Africa, where be distinguished himself in several battles, notwith- 
 standing his political opinions, and he rose rapidly in his profession. 
 He performed great exploits, it would seem, in the Algerine war, 
 and had some pretty hard engagements with that noted man Abd- 
 el-Kader. Of course he was promoted. In the year 1848, he 
 became governor-general of Algeria. 
 
 Stirring times came on in France about these days. Another 
 revolution was on hand. Cavaignac was called for at home. He 
 was vlected to the national assembly, and appointed general of 
 division. Afterwards, he became minister of war. On the 12th 
 of May he left Algiei-s, and arrived in Paris just after the disturb- 
 ances of the 15tli of that month. Then Cavaignac attained the 
 hicrhest round in the ladder of fame that he ever reached. He 
 
 o 
 
 had a force placed under his absolute command sufficient to hold 
 all France in terror. He put down the formidable riots that had 
 disturbed the capital, and then he resigned his supreme command. 
 His fellow-citizens, however, appointed him president of the coun- 
 cil, with power to nominate his own ministry. 
 
 It was at length decided that a president sliould be elected — a 
 " president of the republic" — I give my reader full liberty to smile 
 as broadly as he pleases at the names the French are in the habit 
 of giving to things — and Cavaignac was a candidate for that oflice. 
 Louis Napoleon, however, as you well know, was chosen, and poor 
 Cavaignac fell. Napoleon had some five and a half millions of 
 votes, according to the returns, while Cavaignac had but about one- 
 fifth as many. Then followed the famous coup d^etat of Napoleon, 
 and Cavaignac was sent to the prison of Ham, the very place where 
 the successful candidate was previously confined. He was, how- 
 ever, subsequently liberated. But that star had set, and another 
 one had risen in its place. The portrait from which my engraving 
 was copied, was taken when his glory was about departing, I 
 should judge. He looks in this picture, at all events, as if he were 
 not in a very enviable state of mind. 
 
CROMWELL AND THE DUKE OF SAVOY. 
 
 271 
 
 CROMWELL AND THE DUKE OF SAYOY. 
 
 ■^^;^A^^t^^ 
 
 
 
 EARLY two hundred year 
 
 found little or no toleration without fighting for 
 
 it, and when all religious feeling in Europe was 
 
 rather fiei'ce, there was a little company of Protestants 
 
 who dwelt together in the valleys of Piedmont. They 
 
 J^"^ were, probably, descendants of the old Waldenses, and, 
 certainly, very pious, quiet, inoffensive people. Their homes were 
 within the territory of the Duke of Savoy, who detei-mined to con- 
 vert them to the Roman Catholic Church. With this aim, he 
 sent preaching friars among them ; but the friars did not succeed. 
 Their religious doctrines and methods of proselytism, seemed no- 
 wise attractive to that Piedmontese community. But the duke 
 persisted vehemently, and immediately sent, instead of the friars, 
 six regiments of soldiers, with orders that the poor peasants must 
 be instantly converted or driven from the country. Now, they felt 
 it quite impossible to be converted according to the duke's orders, 
 and very dreadful to be driven from their homes by a ferocious 
 soldiery. It was mid-winter. Their homes were among the snows 
 of the Alps. Removal seemed little less than destruction. Yet 
 the soldiers were relentless, and perpetrated a great many hor- 
 rible atrocities. After many sufferings fearful to think of, those 
 of the people who remained alive, found refuge in French Dau- 
 phiny. 
 
 It was on the third day of the following June that the story of 
 this persecution was told to Oliver Cromwell, then Lord Protector 
 of England. It is said, that as he listened to the story, he was 
 melted into tears ; and tears from that iron man, were of different 
 quality from those which an idle lady weeps over her lap-dog. 
 He was about to sign an important treaty with France. Now he 
 
272 CHANGES OF FASHIOIfl". 
 
 refuses to sifvn it, unless the French Government will interfere with 
 the Duke of Savoy, and compel him to put ri^ht in place of the 
 wrong he has done. He sends them two thousand pounds from his 
 own purse, invites collections for them all over England, and stands 
 stoutly to his purpose, until his point is carried, and the converting 
 duke made to f*^el tliat the Lord Protector of England can protect 
 his poor brethren in Piedmont. 
 
 CHANGES OF FASHION. 
 
 In our day, the fashion of different dresses turns a pretty short 
 corner sometimes ; but it does not play quite as fantastic freaks, I 
 think, as it did some hundred years ago. It is said that when one 
 of the kings of England appeared publicly without buckles to his 
 shoes, a whole manufactuiing district complained that the means 
 of their living would be taken away; and again, when the king 
 appeared without a wig, the manufacturers of the article petitioned 
 him not to ruin the trade. Charles VII. of France, was of low 
 stature, and had very short legs ; he wore such a dress as was best 
 calculated for concealing the defects of his person. So the fashion 
 of long garments was revived during his reign. During the reign 
 of Louis XI. the next king of France, a total revolution occurred in 
 the article of dress. The ladies, who had been accustomed to wear 
 gowns of immense length, so that their trains and immoderately 
 long sleeve-s swept the ground, now cut them oft' and substituted 
 other things quite as ridiculous. On their heads they wore enor- 
 mous caps, surmounted with folds of silk or other light materials, 
 in the form of a turban, almost a yard in height. In the reign of 
 Charles VI. the head-dresses of the women were so broad, being 
 two yards in breadth, that it was found necessary to make the doors 
 wider in order to admit them ; whereas, now they were obliged to 
 make them higher. During this period, men wore short jackets, 
 not reaching to the waist, and small clothes to which they were 
 fastened by laces. They also wore false shoulders, to make the 
 chest appear large and full, and their hair was worn long. 
 
A NOBLE ACT AXD ITS REWARD. 
 
 273 
 
 A NOBLE ACT AND ITS KEWARD. 
 
 igjI-J T is said of a pious man of old, living" in the East, 
 having three sons and a large fortune, that he made 
 the following proposals to his sons, when they were 
 grown to manhood : " Go," said he, " my sons, from 
 '^ my roof for one month, and return. He that performs, dur- 
 ^ _ 1 ing his absence, the best and noblest deed, shall receive one 
 ^ half of my estate, and the other half shall be divided between 
 the other two brothers. They went, and returned at the stipulated 
 time. 
 
 The eldest began the story of his month's philanthropy. " I 
 was walking along the banks of one of our native streams, and I 
 heard the shrieks of a female. I hastened to the spot from whence 
 the cry proceeded, and, lo ! it was a mother in the very act of 
 leaping into the flood to save her boy, an only child of four years 
 old, who had unfortunately fallen in, and the waters were choking 
 the avenues of life. Had the mother made the desperate leap, 
 they both must have perished together. I bade her desist, and I 
 plunged into the i-oaiing torrent. By hard struggling and mighty 
 eftbrts, I saved the drowning child, and restored him to the arms 
 of the frantic, but now enraptured, mother." 
 
 " Thou hast indeed done nobly, my son ; the pen of immortality 
 shall record that deed, and the mother shall cherish thy memory 
 with tears of gratitude. My second son, what hast thou to say ?" 
 " Father," said he, " in my journey I found an old man lying ou 
 his couch, feeble and decrepid ; he could not walk nor rise up. 
 Two little children were left with him ; their parents had gone to 
 a neighboring town, about ten miles distant. The old man was 
 sighing heavily, and the children wept bitterly. The bleak winds 
 murmured through the trees ; the ground was covered with snow ; 
 the cold was piercing and terrible. ' And will your parents return 
 to-night V I inquired of the lad, as he stirred up the little fire on 
 
 VOL. IV. 12* DR 
 
274 A GOOD RULE. 
 
 the hearth, which his flowing tears might have quenched. ' They 
 have been gone four days,' was the reply, ' and we are starving, and 
 can neither go for food, nor for father and mother I' I hurried 
 back to the nearest house I had left, to obtain food for these fam- 
 ishing ones, and information of the parents. The former I pro- 
 cured ; but of the latter I could obtain no tidings. I went in search 
 of them, and, when within a mile of the village, I was informed, 
 to my amazement, that they had been found dead, having perished 
 in the snow ! I need only say, these orphans and the more helpless 
 old man, are to share in my patrimony, whatever it may be." 
 
 The father burst into tears, and could only say, " The youngest 
 brother." The youngest son now began : " On my return home- 
 ward, having almost despaired of aecomplisliing my wishes, I found 
 a man, prostrate and bleeding, on the cold ground. lie was my 
 bitter enemy ! He must have perished in a few hours, had there 
 been no assistance. I took him to a hospitable shelter, and he is 
 rapidly recovering." " My dear boy," said the father, " to thee, to 
 thee, belongs the reward ! Were it the world, thou shouldst have 
 it. Thou hast sanctiiit'd humanity, and spread the antepast of 
 Heaven. Thy brothers liave done well — nobly ; but thou hast 
 acted God-like ! Thine is the spirit of Heaven : half my wealth is 
 thine, and well may I entrust it to such a son." 
 
 A GOOD KULE. 
 
 A MAN who is very rich now, was very poor when he was a boy. 
 When asked how he got his riches, he replied, " My father taught 
 me never to play till my work was finished, and never to spend my 
 money until I had earned it. If I had but an hour's work in a 
 day, I must do that the first thing, and in an hour. And after 
 this I was allowed to play ; and tlien I could play with much more 
 pleasure than if I had the thought of an unfinished task before my 
 mind. I early formed the habit of doing everything in time, and 
 it soon became perfectly easy to do so. It is to this I owe my 
 prO;?perity." Let every boy who reads this go and do likewise. 
 
GALL FLIES AND NUT GALLS. 
 
 275 
 
 GALL FLIES AND NUT GALLS. 
 
 Have you ever noticed the ofreat round balls on some species of 
 the oak ? No doubt you have, if you are much accustomed to 
 ramble in the forest. Well, how do you suppose those balls are 
 produced ? Perhaps, without giving much thought to the matter, 
 you may have regarded them as the fruit of the tree. But such 
 is not the case. The acorn is the only legitimate fruit wliich the 
 oak tree produces. Those balls are produced by a family of little 
 insects, called gall flies. 
 
 There are a great many species of the gall fly, and though their 
 habits are similar, they choose respectively, very ditierent places for 
 their abode. 
 
 While traveling between Florence and Rome, my attention was 
 frequently attracted to a shrub by the roadside, on which grew, in 
 considerable abundance, what appeared to be a curious kind of 
 apple. Anxious to satisfy myself, however, in relation to the mat- 
 ter, I asked the driver of our carriage to stop, so as to give me an 
 opportunity to examine the shrub. He did so ; and what was my 
 
276 GALL FLIES AND NUT GALLS. 
 
 surprise to find that these numerous and beautifully-formed apples, 
 as they appeared at a little distance, were nothing more or less than 
 excrescences (warts, to use a shorter word, but one which does not 
 quite so well convey my meaning) made by insects. 
 
 The insects which cause such warts on different plants, are all 
 provided with a curious instrument, something like a gimlet. With 
 this instrument it pierces the bark of the tree, and lays its eggs 
 there. The pieces of the vegetable flowing out through the aper- 
 tures which are thus opened, aid in forming the wart, which goes 
 by the name of a gall. In this gall the ^^g is enclosed, which, in 
 due time, becomes a little caterpillar. The young insects find in 
 their abode food necessary for their support. They suck and gnaw 
 the inside of the gall, the outside of which grows and becomes 
 harder in proportion as the centre part is eaten away. 
 
 In the engraving, you see a common species 
 of the gall fly, and three different forms of the 
 caterpillars of the insect. 
 
 Galls ma}' be found in every part of a plant. 
 Roots, branches, leaves, and even bu<ls, are thus 
 invaded, as the space required in different cir- 
 cumstances, vajies greatly. Some galls are not 
 larger than the head of a pin, others are of 
 considerable size. Some galls are juicy, and 
 others extremely hard. This variety seems de- 
 pendent on the ])leasure of the insect. On the 
 same leaf one insect will produce a gall of the 'former, and an- 
 other that of the latter kind. Many galls have a cavity, shutting 
 up a certain number of caterpillars living in society. Others have 
 many small cavities, between which there are communications. In 
 some cases, more than a hundred cells may be observed, each of 
 which contains a single caterpillar. Other species of galls have but 
 a single cell, inhabited by a caterpillar, which lives alone. 
 
 The majority of galls increase in size very rapidly. Those of the 
 largest species grow in a few days, and sometimes even, as it appears, 
 before the caterpillar issues from the egg ; so that when it does so, 
 its lodging is ready made, and requires no further increase. These 
 little creatures grow very fast, but they remain in the gall five or 
 
GALL FLIES AND NUT GALLS. 277 
 
 six months. Some pass into the chrysalis state in the gall, from 
 which they escape in the perfect form, after making a small hole 
 in it. 
 
 Galls present great varieties of form. The most common ones 
 are rounded. Some have received, from their color and figure, 
 the names of certain fruits which thev resemble. Some found on 
 the oak, are called apple, gooseberry, or pippin galls. Some are 
 like fruits in their spongy texture. Among those which are of a 
 round form, some are fixed upon the plant, and others only hold 
 there by a short stem. 
 
 There is a species of fibrous gall which is very remarkable. It is 
 as large as an apple, and is covered with long reddish threads. It 
 appears on the eglantine, or sw^eet brier, which sometimes bears 
 three or four of these galls. The same shrub presents a still rarer 
 species. It grows at the end of its branches, where it forms a mass 
 composed of a dozen little galls, of various forms. These two 
 species owe their origin to the .same insect. 
 
 The far-famed apples of Sodom, of which you have doubtless 
 heard, and which are described as beautiful to the eye, but crum- 
 bling to bitter ashes at the slightest touch, are now well ascertained 
 to be the pioduct of one species of the gall in-sect. The tree on 
 which these galls are found, grows in the vicinity of the Dead Sea. 
 It is about six feet high, and the galls attain the size, at maturity, 
 of a small apricot. 
 
 But the most useful of all the galls, is the nut-gall^ which is so 
 extensively used in dyeing. This valuable gall grows on a species 
 of the oak. I have given you an engraving of a branch of the 
 oak, with the galls upon it. The galls you will notice on the 
 lower part of the branch. There are two of them. The tree grows 
 abundantly yi Asia Minor, Syria, and Pei-sia. 
 
 These galls have no smell, but a bitter and astiingent taste. 
 They are much used in the manufacture of ink. They are nearly 
 round, and vary from the size of a pea to that of a liazel-nut. 
 When good, they are of a black, or deep olive color. They are 
 heavy and brittle, and break with a fiinty fractul-e. They are 
 known in commerpe by the names of white, green, and blue. The 
 white are tliose which have not been gathered till the insect has 
 
278 LmNG WITHOUT FOOD. 
 
 made its escape ; they are not so heavy as the others, are of a 
 lighter color, and do not fetch so high a price. The green and 
 blue galls are gathered before the escape of the insect. They are 
 heavier and darker than the former, and are said to yield about 
 one-third more of useful coloring matter. 
 
 LIVING WITHOUT FOOD. 
 
 Animals support the want of food much longer than is gener- 
 ally believed. A civet cat has lived ten days without food, an 
 antelope twenty, and a very large wild cat also twenty. An eagle 
 has survived twenty-two days, a ba<lger one month, and several 
 dogs thirty-six days. In the memoirs of the Academy of Sciences 
 there is an account of a dog, which having been accidentally shut 
 up alone in a counting-house, existed forty days without any other 
 nourishment than the stuff of the wool of a mattrass, which he had 
 torn to pieces. A crocodile will live two months without food, a 
 scorpion three, a bear six, a chameleon eight, and a viper ten. Val- 
 liant had a spider that lived nearly a year without food, and was 
 so far from being weakened, that it immediately killed another large 
 spider equally vigorous, but not so hungry, which was put along 
 with it The celebrated John Hunter enclosed a toad between two 
 stone flower-pots, and found it as lively as ever after fourteen 
 months. Land tortoises have lived without food for eighteen 
 months, and a beetle has been known to have been kept in a state 
 of perfect abstinence for three years, when it contrived to make its 
 escape. There is also a well-authenticated account of two serpents 
 living in a bottle without food for five years. Besides all these 
 facts, too, we have a more astounding one, too, on pretty good au- 
 thority, that toads live for many years shut up in the heart of a 
 block of marble ; though 1 give any man, woman, or child, full 
 liberty to shake his or her head for a fortnight at the latter story. 
 For myself, however, I believe it. 
 
A PATCH OX BOTH KNEES. 
 
 279 
 
 A PATCH ON BOTH KNEES. 
 
 .^. <^-'<^ 
 
 # 
 
 S^C^tj^'*^' HERE is a great deal of excellent truth suggested in 
 ,'■ £o^ the following anecdote, and the reflections which 
 ^^J are appended to it. Read the article, young friend. 
 \^ Don't say, when you get through with it, that 
 Uncle Frank wi-ote it on purpose to hit you ; for nothing 
 could be farther from the true state of the case, inasmuch 
 as Uncle Frank did not wiite it at all, and what is more, 
 he does not know who did write it : 
 
 When I was a boy, it was my fortune to bieathe, for a long 
 time, what some writers term the bracing air of poverty. My 
 mother — light lie the turf upon the form which once enclosed her 
 sweet and gentle spirit — was wdiat is called an ambitious woman ; 
 for that quality which overturns thrones and supplants dynasties, 
 finds a legitimate sphere in the humblest abode that the shadow of 
 poverty ever darkened. The struggles between the wish to keep 
 up appearances and the pinching gripe of necessity, produced end- 
 less shifts and contrivances, at which, if told, some would smile, 
 and some, to whom they would teach their own experience, would 
 sigh. But let me not disturb the veil of oblivion which shrouds 
 from profane eyes the hallowed mysteiies of poverty. 
 
 On one occasion it was necessary to send me on an errand to a 
 neighbor of better circumstances than ourselves, and therefore it 
 was desirable that I should be presented in the best possible aspect. 
 Great pains were accordingly taken to give a smart appearance to 
 my patched and dila})idated wardrobe, and to conceal the rents and 
 chasms which the envious tooth of time had made in it ; and by 
 way of throwing over my equipment a savor and spriidvling of 
 gentility, my red and toil-hardened hands were enclosed in the un- 
 familiar casing of a pair of gloves, which had belonged to my 
 mother in days when her years were fewer and her heart was 
 lighter. 
 
280 A PATCH ON BOTH KXEE3. 
 
 I sallied forth on my errand, and on my way encountered a much 
 older and bigo^er boy, who evidently belonged to a family who had 
 all our own dragging poverty, and none of our uprising wealth of 
 spirit. His rags fairly fluttered in the breeze ; his hat was con- 
 structed upon the most approved principles of ventilation ; and his 
 shoes, from their venerable antiquity, might have been deemed a 
 pair of fossil shoes — the very ones in which Shem shuffled into the 
 ark. He was an impudent varlet, with a dare-devil swagger in his 
 gait, and an " I'm as good as you" leer in his eyes ; the very whelp 
 to throw dirt at a well-dressed horseman because he was well- 
 dressed, at a boy's ruffles because lie was clean. As soon as he 
 saw me, his eyes detected the practical inconsistencies which char- 
 acterized my costume, and taking me by the shoulder, turning me 
 round with no gentle hand, and surveying me from heaU to foot, he 
 exclaimed, with a scornful laugh of derision, " A patch on both 
 knees, and gloves on I" 
 
 I still recall the sting of wounded feeling which shot through me 
 at these words. To parodize a celebrated line by the immortal 
 Tuscan, 
 
 "That day I wore my gloves no more.'* 
 
 But the lesson, so rudely enforced, sank deep into my mind ; and 
 in after-life I have had frequent occasion to make a practical appli- 
 cation of the words of my ragged friend, when I have observed the 
 ridiculous inconsistencies which so often mark the conduct of man- 
 kind. 
 
 When, for instance, I see parents carefully providing for the or- 
 namental education of their children, furnishing them with teachers 
 of music, dancing, and drawing, but giving no thought to that 
 moral and religious training from which the true dignity and per- 
 manent happiness of life can come ; never teaching them habits 
 of self-sacritice and self-discipline and control, but rather, by ex- 
 ample, instructing them in evil-speaking, in uncharitableness, in 
 envy, and in falsehood, I think with a sigh of the patch on both 
 knees, and gloves on. 
 
 When I see a family in cold, selfish solitude, not habitually 
 warming their house with a glow of happy faces, but lavishing 
 
A child's prayer. 281 
 
 that which could furnish the hospitality of a whole year upon the 
 profusion of a single night, I think of the patch on both knees, and 
 
 gloves on. 
 
 When I see a house profusely furnished with sumptuous furni- 
 ture, rich curtains, and luxurious carpets, but with no books, or 
 none but a few tawdry annuals, I am reminded of the patch on 
 both knees, and gloves on. 
 
 When I see our public men cultivating exclusively those quali- 
 ties which win a way to office, and neglecting those which will 
 qualify them to fill honorably the post to which they aspire, I 
 recall the patch on both knees, and gloves on. 
 
 When I see men sacrificing peace of mind and health of body to 
 the insane pursuit of wealth, living in ignorance of the character of 
 the children who are growing up around them, cutting themselves 
 ofi" from the highest and purest pleas.ures of their natures, and 
 so perverting their humanity that that which was sought as a means 
 insensibly comes to be followed as an end, I say to myself, " A 
 patch on both knees, and gloves on." 
 
 A CHILD'S PRAYER. 
 
 BY ALICE CAREY. 
 
 SwEETEE than the songs of thrushes, 
 When the winds are low ; 
 
 Brighter than the ypring-time blushes, 
 Reddening out of snow, 
 
 Were the voice and cheek so fair, 
 
 Of the little girl at prayer. 
 
 Like a white lamb of the meadow, 
 Climbing through the light; 
 
 Like a priestess in the shadow 
 Of the temple bright, 
 
 Seemed she, saying, " Holy One ! 
 
 Thine, and not my will be done!" 
 
282 
 
 THE editor's table TALK. 
 
 THE EDITOR'S TABLE TALK. 
 
 ERE is a letter from my old fiiend and former class- 
 mate, James P. MCord. It seems to concern 
 ^ you, reader, as well as myself, and 1 have a mind 
 
 to make you acquainted with its contents. It is dated at 
 ^ Wairenham, Pa. and is as follows : 
 
 -•^j> 
 
 " My Dear Woodwortii, — Having had the pleasure, lately, of 
 talkinfr with you at your hospitable table, a little table-talk seems 
 to come in now, as a matter of course. The puzzle is, however, 
 where to beo;in. ' Woodside,' with its fine situation, its trees, its 
 pond, its views of scenery around, is worth talking about for half 
 an liour at least. Rut I have not so much time to spare for the 
 purpose, by a jug full. I must say something about several other 
 things. It must therefore suffice for ' Woodside,' at present, to 
 remark, that if you cannot live contented there, I don't know of 
 any place wdiere you could. 
 
 When I saw you, I was on my way, you remember, to the scenes 
 of my childhood and youth. I always revisit those scenes with 
 pleasure. Still, the pleasure has some alloy in it The face of the 
 landscape is changed ; some familiar woods are removed ; the trees 
 that I used to love, and the buildings that I used to walk about, 
 bear the marks of increasing age. Familiar faces, too, look older. 
 And some whom I used to meet in those scenes, I shall meet there 
 no more forever. 
 
 In every place, indeed, there is more or less of change every 
 year. There is change in nature ; there is change among the 
 people. How many of our little friends have been removed since 
 the opening of the present vear ? I can tell you of one. He was 
 long a reader of the Cabinet, and delighted in its pages. He will 
 
THE editor's table TALK. 283 
 
 read it no more. I need not mention his name nor liis virtues ; 
 they are recorded in the hearts of those who loved liim. In other 
 places, too, you have no doubt lost some of your readers, one here 
 and another there. At the opening of the year, their prospects 
 for a long life were as fair, periiaps, as any of their companions ; 
 but, before its close, they have been cut down, like flowers by the 
 frost. Do not our young friends who survive see a lesson in this ? 
 and will they not give heed to that so solemn a lesson ? 
 
 With my best wishes to them, and to you, I must here say adieu. 
 Your friend, James P. M'Cord." 
 
 I have almost a mind to print the letter of the little orphan girl 
 in Tennessee. It is a good letter. I was pleased with it all the 
 way through. My dear child, when I read your story, I could 
 scarcely help shedding tears. God bless you, and all who, like you, 
 have no earthly parents. God bless you, and deal gently and 
 kindly with you. Your path in life may be sad at the commence- 
 ment ; but joy will spi-ing up by-and-bye. I doubt not. Your 
 heavenly Father, if you will trust in him, will more than supply the 
 place of the earthly one he has taken from you. I, too, was early 
 an orphan. But God taught me, in my own experience, the blest 
 beauty of those words of Scripture, " When my father and my 
 mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up." May he 
 teach you and all other little orphan g-irls the same. You do well 
 to save your money to buy books. You do well to teach little 
 George, and to read the Bible with him. Go on m this course. 
 Look to God for his blessing. Pray for a new heart, and for grace 
 to help you live the life of a Christian. Then you will be happy 
 in this world, and happy, by-and-bye, in heaven. Yes, you may 
 call me " Uncle Frank." I am not ashamed of such nieces — the 
 more the better. 
 
 OUK NEW VOLUME. 
 
 It does not follow, I suppose, because a boy or girl reads all the 
 ► stories in the Cabinet, and pores over all its enigmas, that he or she 
 is familiar with what the publisher puts on the cover. But I want 
 you, reader, to glance at what has been said about our " Plans for 
 
284 THE editor's table talk. 
 
 1854." You will find them on the second page of the cover. 
 That page is foi- you to read, as well as your parents or older 
 brother or sister. Look here. You'll not be ashamed of the Jan- 
 uary number, when you show it to your friends. Mark my word. 
 It contains the portrait of '' S. N." which all the little folks want 
 sp much to see. And besides, the Cabinet is going to try to out- 
 shine itself during the year. Now what I wish you to do is just 
 about the simplest and one of the easiest things in the world. 
 Just get your friends to take the magazine with you, and send us 
 on a club of half a dozen or a dozen subscribers. You will see that 
 you get your Cabinet for nothing, when you obtain seven or eight 
 subscribers, and the rest of the club pay only seventy-five cents each. 
 
 NOTICES OF NEW PUBLIC ATIOXS. 
 
 1. Sparing to Spend, or the Loftons and the Pinker tons, is the title 
 of a pleasing and instructive story of my friend T. S. Arthur. I 
 need say no more to insure for it, among my readers, a hearty wel- 
 come to the fireside. Published by Charles Scribner. 
 
 2. The same publisher has recently brought out The Little 
 Drummer, a story of filial afiection. The scene is laid in Russia, 
 at the time of the French invasion under that arch enemy of th< 
 world in general, Napoleon Bonaparte. It was originally writteaj 
 in German, and translated by Mrs. Conant. I have not for a long 
 time read a story addressed especially to the " young folks at 
 home," which on the whole pleased me so well. The style of th( 
 book is exceedingly happy ; the story is admirably told ; the greatj 
 principles of our religion are distinctly and^ beautifully bi"Ought 
 out ; the genius of war is held up to the reprobation it deserves ;j 
 and, in contiast, the sweet spirit of peace on earth and good will toj 
 men are ingeniously displayed throughout the vi^lume. I should] 
 rejoice to hear that the " Little Drummer" had become a universal] 
 favorite with young Americans. 
 
 3. Tip-Top ; or, A Xoble Aim, is another of Mr. Scribner's latel 
 juvenile publications. It is written by Mrs. Tuthill, and is a very, 
 clever story. But is it not a pity that this lady should have se-j 
 lected such a title ? " Tip-top !" it does not sound pleasantly. Is; 
 the fault in my ear or in the title 2 
 
THE editor's table TALK. 285 
 
 4. The American Statesman. This is a little volume by Rev. 
 Joseph Bnnvard, who has long been an acceptable writer for chil- 
 dren and youth. It is occupied with illustrations of the life and 
 character of Daniel Webster. A very truthful, though condensed 
 sketch of this great statesman's life. Webster's good points are 
 held up for the emulation of the young reader, while the blemishes 
 in his character — and he certainly had such — are wisely left in the 
 background. Published by Gould & Lincoln. 
 
 5. Put))am''s Magazine. The older members of the family 
 where the Cabinet is a guest, who are in want of a spirited original 
 magazine of a high rank, can, in my humble judgment, find no- 
 thing better in the " wide, wide world," than Putnam's Monthly. 
 It exhibits all the tact and skill of the British magazines, without 
 a particle of the heaviness which is so nearly chronic with our ex- 
 cellent neighbor Johnny Bull. 
 
 6. The Illustrated Weekly Record of the JVeiv Yo?-k Exhibition 
 of the Industry of all Nations, published by G. P. Putnam & Co. 
 at the Crystal Palace, is a rare collection of engravings accurately 
 representing the most noteworthy articles in the great exhibition, 
 with letter-press descriptions. The admirers of art who visit the 
 Palace should not fail to secure this work. It is worth ten times 
 its cost. 
 
 7. The Grammar Tree. " And pray what kind of a tree is that ? 
 I've heard of a great many curious trees, first and last, but none that 
 bore fruit in the shape of grammar." But I have, reader. I've heard 
 of just such a tree ; and what is more, I've seen it too — on paper. 
 Mr. Charles C. Savage, of this city, has taken the pains to present all 
 the different parts of speech in English grammar, together with 
 their relations to each other, in the form of a tree. It is a curious 
 production, and as useful, I think, as it is curious. It is litho- 
 graphed, and colored like a map. The student can hang it up in 
 his room, and have the whole matter before him at a glance. 
 This grammar tree will not do away with the necessity of treatises 
 on this branch of science. But it will certainly help the student 
 vastlv, and I hope it will be generally introduced into schools and 
 families. The chart will not disfigure, but rather ornament, a 
 youth's study or a school-room. Published by Rufus Blanchard. 
 
286 
 
 ' THE PUZZLEE'S DRAWER. 
 
 answer to riddle within a charade. 
 
 Man-date. 
 Answered by W. S. Foster, of Verona. N. Y. who must be .1 pretty 
 keen boy, I fancy, as he is the only one who has, to my knowledge, 
 cracked this nut. 
 
 ANSWER to charade NO. IV. 
 
 Mad-hid. 
 Solved by John C. Coulter, of Washington, D. C. who thinks as I 
 do, that this was a capital knot for the little folks to untie. 
 
 answer to anagrams of scripture names. 
 
 1. Chedorlaomer. 3. Macedonia. 
 
 2. Mehodachbaladan. 4. Diotrephes. s. n. 
 Also solved by Edward H. Hunt, of Northampton, IMs. ; Misses J. 
 
 E. L. and M. M. C. of Hillsdale, Mich. ; and Alvaro F. Gibbens, of 
 Parkersburg, Va, who is informed that the letter containing the an- 
 swers to so many things in the Puzzler's Drawer reached me too late, 
 for which I am sorrv, but suppose "there's no use in crying for spilled 
 milk." ' 
 
 ANSWER TO RIDDLE NO. VII. 
 
 How exquisite indeed ! What work of art 
 
 Can e<|unl it? Complete in every part, 
 
 Could any mortal make the tubes so fine, 
 
 And count them ? No ! but there's a Power divine 
 
 That does create, and with peculiar care 
 
 Numbers, e'en witn a glance, our every hair. s. n. 
 
 Also solved by S. J. Axtell, jr. of Grafton, :\rs. ; Edward H. Hunt, 
 of Northampton, Ms. • " A School-girl," of iNFadison, N. Y. ; Cornelia 
 M. Parmele, and Anna M. Parmele, of Clinton, N. Y. Cornelia t^ays, 
 "While we were puzzling our brains with this riddle, onr little sister 
 Susan was looking over the Cabinet with us, and her hair caught fire 
 in the candle. Was not that curious, Uncle Frank ?" I wonder if that 
 little circumstance didn't suggest the answer to you — eh? 
 
THE puzzler's DRAWER. 287 
 
 ENIGMA NO. VII. 
 
 I cam composed of 21 letters. 
 
 My 19, 12,4, 13, 19, 17, vvasaneminentphilosopher of thelast century. 
 
 My 13, 8, 9, 16, 15, 8, 17, 8, was a distinorui^hed Spanish General. 
 
 My 15, 8, 5, 10, 16, 11, was an eminent English poet and dramatist 
 in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 My 17, 5, 8, 9, 3, 4, was a Spanish poet of the last century. 
 
 My 13, 8, 17, 5, 14, 12, 12,-4, vvjisan eminent Flemish painter. 
 
 My 15, 20, 3, 2, 21, 4, 18, was a Flemish historian. 
 
 My 10, 17, 18, 8, 6, 5, 2, was an eminent English physician and phi- 
 lologist of the fifteenth century. 
 
 My 15, 8, 9, 16, 3, was a celebrated poet. 
 
 My 17, 15, 1, 20, 5, 17, 8, 10, 8, was a celebrated Roman cardinal. 
 
 My 15, 14, 3, 8, 12, 3, 8, 12, 19, 16, was a celebrated Italian lyric 
 and dramatic poet. 
 
 My 8, 18, 8, 6, 21, 14, 16, 8, was a famous Ionian lyric poet. 
 
 My 15, 20, 18, 16,6, 7, 19, 16, was a learned Italian jurist. 
 
 My whole was the name of a celebrated French astronomer of the 
 seventeenth century. c. p. mx. 
 
 ENIGMA NO. VIII. 
 
 Twice eight in letters is my whole so true, 
 A maxim long in use, yet good as new : 
 The child discerns its truth as well as sage, 
 'Twill stand confessed in ev'ry clime and age ; 
 Let each who from this verse can read my whole, 
 Transcribe the simple line upon his soul. 
 
 My first, tenth, Meventh, eighth, the rank will tell 
 
 Of one who long ago had learned me well ; 
 
 My fourth, tenth, Meventh, fifteenth will combined 
 
 Pertain to him more than to all his kind. 
 
 My fourteenth, thirteenth, like my fourth and third, 
 
 Will give, though short, the same expressive word. 
 
 And he who penned my whole, with fimc how high, 
 
 My eighth, third, fifth, and seventh cloud his'sky ! 
 
 My twelfth, sixth, ninth, and sixteenth of the realm, 
 
 'Twas his behest to hold exalted helm . 
 
 He was the one whom Pope has thus defined, 
 
 "The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind!'' laitba. 
 
288 
 
 THE puzzler's DRAWER, 
 
 ENIGMA NO IX. 
 
 My 1, 12, 7, 9, 14, is an article found in every house. 
 My 6, 7, 8, 3, was the name of one of the queens of England. 
 My 7, 13, 12, 10, 5, was the name of one of the colonels in the revo- 
 lutionary war. 
 
 My 7, 11, 8, is something without which no person can live. 
 
 My 7, 12, 2, 6, is a mineral production of Ihe United States. 
 
 My 10, 6, 10, 8, 3, is found in the gold mines of Peru, 
 
 My 11, 8, 4, 8, is the most useful of all metals. 
 
 My 6, 7, 6, 5, 7, is an article used in medicine. 
 
 My whole is the name and native place of a distinguished physician 
 
 anagrams of scripture proper names, no. ii. 
 
 1. Hoist a pine. 3. Sail on a Chest. 
 
 2. March, Vile Doe. 4. A Load Ice. 
 
 aliquis. 
 
 A PRETTY idea. 
 
 "Papa, why does the breath of cows smell so sweet ?" 
 "Because, dear, they brush their teeth in clover every morning." 
 
 And now, dear readers, at the end of another volume and at the 
 close of another year, Uncle Frank bids you all an affectionate good- 
 hye. Shall I greet you all again at the opening of a new year ? I 
 hope so. I hope, too, that it may be our lot, at last, to meet in heaven. 
 
J.lj)I)aI}ttkal Into. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Acorn and the Mushroom, a 
 
 Fable 87 
 
 Across the Apennines 158 
 
 Alarming Theft 228 
 
 Alice Carey's Pet Doves 110 
 
 Ants, Story of 130 
 
 Apology for Hogs 151 
 
 Ascent of Mount Hecla 187 
 
 Aunt Becky 81 
 
 Bad Precedent 129 
 
 Bedouin's Deceit 279 
 
 Bee-Hive, Lesson from 116 
 
 Biography of Henry Clay 23 
 
 Birds, South American 19 
 
 Blackguard, Origin of the Term 218 
 
 Blowing One's Own Trumpet.. 197 
 
 Blue Bird's Lament, a Fable . . 75 
 
 Bologna, Rambles In 249 
 
 Boy and the Orange Tree 29 
 
 Boy that wouldn't get mad.. . . 115 
 
 Brazilian Vesper Bell 43 
 
 Bugbear and its Victim 222 
 
 Cats and Dogs, how they may 
 
 agree 170 
 
 Cavaignac, General Eugene. . . 269 
 
 Changes of Fashion 272 
 
 Childs Prayer 282 
 
 Chapter on Oranges 178 
 
 Clay, Henry, Biography of.. . . 23 
 
 Cold Water Ballad. 258 
 
 Constantinople, Quackery in.. 185 
 
 Coral Reef, Lesson from 168 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Cromwell and the Duke of 
 
 Savoy 271 
 
 Crows, Do they Reason ? 139 
 
 Daisy and Ear of Wheat, a 
 
 Fable 83 
 
 Do Crows Reason ? 139 
 
 Dogs and Dog-Carts 88 
 
 Dr. Johnson's Courtship 284 
 
 Dr. Franklin's Mistake 16 
 
 Eagle, the Sea 31 
 
 Early Rising 167 
 
 English Peasant 101 
 
 Example of Washington 28 
 
 Exemplary Crane, Fable of. . . 137 
 
 Extraordinary Memory 121 
 
 Fable of the Acorn and Mush- 
 room 87 
 
 Fable of the Blue Bird 75 
 
 Fable of the Exemplary Crane 137 
 
 Fable of the Tree and the Bark 113 
 
 Fashion, Changes of. 272 
 
 Feigning Death 109 
 
 Fight with a Tiger 68 
 
 Flying Fish and his Enemies. . 247 
 
 Florence, A Week in 200 
 
 Fortune Teller 255 
 
 Qall Flies and Nut Galls 275 
 
 Girl and the Fire-Flies 216 
 
 Glance at the Poor in London. 55 
 
 God Careth for the Children. . 169 
 
VI 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Page 
 
 Good Gun 259 
 
 Good Old Plough 34 
 
 Good Retort 182 
 
 Good Rule 274 
 
 Gunpowder Plot 225 
 
 Handel's Organ-Playing 235 
 
 Hogs, An Apology for 161 
 
 Homeward Bound 38 
 
 How a Story Grows 238 
 
 How to make Cats and Dogs 
 
 agree 170 
 
 How to Rise in the World 176 
 
 Isle of Wight..... 101 
 
 Italian Diligence 159 
 
 John O' Groat's Hou?e 79 
 
 John Pounds and his Pupils.. . 59 
 
 King and the Judge 173 
 
 King and the MiUer 180 
 
 Lament of the Blue Bird, a 
 
 Fable 75 
 
 Laughter 228 
 
 Lesson from the Bee Hive. ... 116 
 
 Lesson from the Coral Reef.. . 168 
 
 Little Bird Thief 224 
 
 Living Without Food 278 
 
 Loudon, Glance at the Poor in. 55 
 
 Lycidas of Milton 181 
 
 Man Buried in a Well 118 
 
 May Day, Story of. 70 
 
 Memory, Extraordinary 121 
 
 Milton's Lycidas 181 
 
 Miracle, Pretended 262 
 
 Missionary's Tour 264 
 
 Mistake of Dr. Frauklin 16 
 
 Morning Glory 157 
 
 Mount Hecla, Ascent of 187 
 
 My Pet Ants 130 
 
 PAOB 
 
 My Sister's Grave 30 
 
 My Wren Family 39 
 
 Napoleon's Heart 263 
 
 New B*)ots, Anecdote of 199 
 
 Noble Act and its Reward 273 
 
 Nut Galls 276 
 
 Oranges, A Chapter on 178 
 
 Orange-Tree and the Boy 29 
 
 Organ Playing, Handel's 236 
 
 Origin of Spectacles 176 
 
 Patch on Both Knees 280 
 
 Peep at Rockville 219 
 
 Pet Ants 130 
 
 Pet Ourarig Outang 232 
 
 IV't Doves, Alice Carey's 110 
 
 Petunia and Holly Tree 221 
 
 Pompeii as it is 9 
 
 Poor Boy and the Rector 237 
 
 Poor in London, Glance at. . . . 88 
 
 Porcupine. Description of. .... 174 
 
 Pounds John, and his Pupils. . 59 
 Power of the Mind over the 
 
 Body 164 
 
 Pretended Miracle 262 
 
 Quackery at Constantinople.. . 186 
 
 Ragged Schools in London. ... 69 
 
 Rambles in Bologna 249 
 
 Repetition in Sermons 29 
 
 Ride on a Whale 17 
 
 Ride on the Back of a Hyena . 266 
 
 Ride. The 212 
 
 Rockville, A Peep at 219 
 
 Sea Eagle, Description of . . . . 31 
 
 Sermons, Repetition in 29 
 
 Signs 86 
 
 Singular Law 163 
 
 Smooth ShiUing 236 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Vll 
 
 Something About Helping 
 
 Others 260 
 
 South American Birds 19 
 
 Spectacles, Origin of. 175 
 
 Story of May Day 70 
 
 The Angel Sister 184 
 
 The Bitter Grief. 37 
 
 The English Peasant 101 
 
 The Tear 215 
 
 The Little Boy that Died 183 
 
 ITie Orphan's Home 114 
 
 The Ride 212 
 
 The Smooth Shilling 236 
 
 Tiger, Fight with 68 
 
 Tour, Missionary's 264 
 
 Tree and the Bai-k, Fable of. . . 113 
 
 Two Songsters 66 
 
 Two Ways of Bearing Disap- 
 pointment 229 
 
 Unwelcome Passenger 213 
 
 Vacation Dialogue 42 
 
 Vesper Bell, the Brazilian .... 43 
 
 Washington, Anecdote of. 180 
 
 Washington, Example of. 28 
 
 Whale, A Ride on 17 
 
 Who Played the Organ ? 189 
 
 Wonders of the Universe 44 
 
 Work and Play 218 
 
 Wren Family 39 
 
 Young Cottager 106 
 
 Young Wood-Gatherers 122 
 
VUl ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Iltotratos ani (gmhellislrnunts. 
 
 PAO« 
 
 Frontispiece 1 
 
 Vignette on Title Page 8 
 
 The Century Plant 18 
 
 The Whale and his Captors 17 
 
 Portrait of Henry Clay 22 
 
 The Sea Eagle 31 
 
 Life on the Farm , 35 
 
 My Wren Family .' 39 
 
 View of the Somerset House, London 54 
 
 John Pounds and his Ragged Pupils 69 
 
 An Adventure with Pickpockets 64 
 
 A Fierce Tiger 68 
 
 The Blue Bird's Lament 75 
 
 John O' Groat's House 79 
 
 The English Peasant Girl 101 
 
 Alice Carey's Pet Doves 110 
 
 The Bee-Hive and its Visitors 116 
 
 The Young Wood-Gatherers 122 
 
 My Pet Ants 130 
 
 The Exemplary Crane 137 
 
 A Cosy Family of Hogs 150 
 
 The Morning Glory 157 
 
 The Mother and her Dying Child 165 
 
 The Cunning Dog 170 
 
 The Porcupine 174 
 
 Milton's Lycidas 181 
 
 Blowing One's Own Trumpet 1 97 
 
 The Shetland Pony 209 
 
 Work and Play 217 
 
 A Pet Ourang-Outang 232 
 
 The Flying Fish in Trouble 246 
 
 The Fortune-Teller 255 
 
 Portrait of General Cavaignac 268 
 
 Nut Galls 275 
 
 Gall Flies 276 
 
OF THK . 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 ^A 
 
 ^LIFOR!^ 
 
1J 
 
 ♦ 
 
 I 
 
 
 / // 
 
 i^ 
 
 ^/ A 
 
 /// r^ (r\ 
 
 
WOODWOHTH'S 
 
 YOUTH'S CABINET 
 
 FEANCIS C. WOODWOETH, 
 
 ilJTHOR OF " UNCLE FRANk's HOME STORIES," "STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS," 
 "THEODORE THINKEr's TALES," " INSECT WONDERS," ETC. ETC. 
 
 VOL. V. 
 
 NEW YOEK: 
 
 D. AUSTIN WOODWORTH, 
 
 PUBLISHER. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 18o3, by 
 
 D. AUSTIN WOODWORTII, 
 
 In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the United States for the 
 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
 
 STEREOTTPEO BT PR:NT3D BT 
 
 THOMAS B. SMITH, JD.TORRET 
 
 i 
 
YOUTH'S CABINET. 
 
 THE DROLLEEIES OF SANTA GLAUS. 
 
 such 
 a personage as our merry friend 
 Santa Claus ever found his way 
 into the calendar. He is some- 
 times called Saint Nicholas, I believe. 
 But is this Nicholas the same saint as 
 the one held in especial repute by the 
 Russians ? If so, he is a famous patron 
 of virgins and seafaring men ; and besides — though 
 that is not very much to his praise, and I don't set it down to his 
 credit — the arch-fiend somehow got his name of Old Knick from 
 him. How is it ? Shades of our Dutch ancestors ! solve the en- 
 igma, and let not the terrible fate happen to us, that Hamlet was 
 afraid would happen to him, in case his father's shade did not 
 speak to him. Santa Claus seems to have been a fast friend of 
 the Dutch boys and girls, from time immemorial ; and I mistrust 
 "that some of our citizens, with names so long and guttural that an 
 out-and-out Yankee would make sad work pronouncing them, could 
 tell us how he came to be canonized, and when and where that 
 great event took place. I hope they will dispel all the fog that 
 hangs about our minds on this subject, and that they will do it 
 very soon indeed, if not sooner.. But I cannot " pause for a reply." 
 
8 THE DROLLERIES OF SANTA GLAUS. 
 
 My head is at present so full of this veteran Santa Claus and his 
 drolleries, that 1 must chat a minute about him, at all events. In 
 the absence of the authentic chronicles concerning his birth, early- 
 education, and wonderful exploits, while in the flesh, it may not 
 be amiss to collect in a compact ball what we do know abgut him, 
 and to wind around that ball some threads of tradition. In so do- 
 ing, it is to be hoped I shall not fall into a track like that reputed 
 to have been pursued by a rather queer parson, who divided his 
 discourse into three separate ||fcrts, thus : " First," he said, "I will 
 tell you, my hearers, what you and I both know of this subject; 
 secondly, what I know and you don't know ; and thirdly, what 
 neither you nor I know much about." 
 
 It has been said, by those who have unquestionably very toler- 
 able means of forming a correct judgment, tliat this Santa Claus is, 
 after all, a fabulous character, something like the St. George who 
 is famed for dragon-killing, and something like the St. Valentine 
 who performs such service in love affairs on a certain day in the 
 year. But be that as it may — whether our generous old friend 
 Santa Claus be purely a creature of the fancy, as I half suspect 
 he is, or not — it cannot be denied that he has got the credit of 
 doing wondoiful, almost miraculous things for good boys and 
 girls during the Christmas and New Year holidays. He cuts end- 
 less capers with them. He is as sly as a very thief in bestowing 
 his favors. He comes not with the sound of the trumpet, as the 
 hypocrites do, when he chooses to open his heart or his pocket 
 for the benefit of the little people. Santa Claus — mark that — is 
 never seen. Nobody ever saw him, though everybody has heard 
 of him, and handled, perhaps tasted, the good things he has left 
 behind him, while his little friends were sound asleep. Endless 
 stories are current about his mysterious egress to the family circle. 
 Now-a-days, we hear of his coming down the chimney. This mod 
 of entering a house would be deemed rather improper for any oth 
 personages besides Santa Claus and the chimney-sweep. But how 
 did the notion get wind that this jolly saint came down the chim- 
 ney ? Probably because it must seem so plain that there is no 
 other wa}^ when the doors and w^indows are closed, for him to get 
 in. But how did he manage, in the very olden time, when our 
 
 i 
 
OLD FATHEB CHRISTMAS. 
 
THE DROLLERIES OF SANTA GLAUS. 11 
 
 ancestors in Britain liad no chimneys to their houses ? That is a 
 question over wliich I have never heard any learning expended. 
 Would it not be well for our wise men to call up the subject, and 
 shed some beams of light upon it ? 
 
 Santa Claus has generally been supposed to be a near blood rela- 
 tive of old Father Christmas, whom he greatly resembles, as all the 
 world knows. But I have been pondering over that matter, and I 
 have come to the conclusion that Father Christmas and Santa Claus 
 are one and the same individual, with different names. I don't 
 ask any one else to believe this, without examining the question ; 
 but my mind is thoroughly made up. Our English ancestors, long 
 time ago, made a great account of Father Christmas. Precisely 
 where they discovered the merry old fellow, may be a matter of 
 doubt. It may be he turned up among a multitude of rather fabu- 
 lous characters, which our forefathers imported from Scandinavia. 
 At all events, the outward appearance and turn of mind with 
 which they invest him are entirely in keeping with those of a per- 
 sonage famed in the mythology of those northern regions. Father 
 Chiistmas, by those who seem to have the best acquaintance with 
 l»im, is represented with an elf-like face, a crown of mistletoe on 
 his head, a very long and snowy beard, a great log on his back, 
 with which to make a huge fire on the kitchen hearth, and a mam- 
 moth bowl in his hand, the contents of which are supposed to be 
 capable of making all the mouths in the kingdom water at once. 
 It would be a curious and profitable problem for you to try to solve, 
 by reading history and by conversation with older persons, how 
 and when all the customs connected with the observance of the 
 Christmas and New Year festivals originated. No doubt they came 
 into vogue gradually, not all at once, and they were imported, too, 
 we have reason to believe, from different portions of the world. 
 Some might have come from the old Druids. Are not the oak log 
 ^which old Father Christmas carries on his back, and the crown of 
 mistletoe on his head, relics of the Druidical notions ? Some of 
 the associations connected with these festivals came from the North- 
 men, and some from the ancient Romans. But, wherever they 
 came from, and however they originated, I confess I have a great 
 respect for them. To my mind, whether they had their origin 
 
12 A NOVEL ANIMAL. 
 
 among Pagans or Christians, they seem innocent, and as they make 
 the little folks happy, I respect them, and vote for them. No mat- 
 ter if the genius sometimes called Santa Clans, sometimes St. Nich- 
 olas, and sometimes Father Christmas, is an imaginary person- 
 age, having no real existence, except in the imagination of chil- 
 dren. There is no harm in talking, in sport, as if your nice things 
 came through such a medium as that of Santa Claus. When, 
 after hanging up your stocking at night, you find it crowded full 
 of beautiful and valuable presents, it is well enough to say, in fun, 
 " See what Santa Claus has done for me !" In fun — not seriously. 
 I want all my young friends to get in the habit of looking to an- 
 other Being as the source of all the good things they receive. He 
 is invisible, too. We cannot see his hand, when he bestows his 
 gifts. '^IP cannot hear his voice. But, unlike the fabled genius 
 we have been talking of, he is a living, acting, loving Spirit, never- 
 theless. All that we enjoy conofes from him. Let us ever remem- 
 beMhis. Xet us learn to say, with the Psalmist, " Bless the Lord, 
 O my souT/mnd forget not all his benefits." 
 
 A NOVEL ANIMAL. 
 
 One of the most novel and recent additions to the animals in 
 the Zoological Gardens, Regent's park, is the Choirojjotainus. 
 The Choiropotamus is, as its name implies, a river pig ; not, how- 
 ever, with any extraordinary aquatic tendencies. He has been 
 brought from the banks of the Senegambia, amongst the swamps 
 of whose borders, and those of the other rivers of Western Africa, 
 he delights to dwell. His appearance is not unlike that of a com- 
 mon pig. He has larger legs, and is more squarely built. Thei 
 most striking feature of the animal is the color of its hair- 
 which may be called sandy. It is long and less coarse than that 
 of a common pig. The ears are very long and black. Of the 
 hog tribe, I think this is decidedly the cleanest and most gen- 
 tlemanly specimen. 
 
DK. JOHNSO^' ON LIARP 
 
 18 
 
 THE SOlSra OF WINTER. 
 
 "Wrs'TER, winter, it is here! 
 Choicest season of the year, 
 Who would mourn the summer gone, 
 When glad winter cometli on ? 
 
 Winter, winter, it is here ! 
 Now's the time for merr}'- cheer. 
 Every heart must joyous be. 
 Every e3'e beam happily. 
 
 Winter, winter, it is here ! 
 Who of cold doth have a fear ? 
 Let him briskly work and play. 
 Tills will keep the cold away. 
 
 Winter, winter, it is here ! 
 Tinkling sleigh bells greet the ear; 
 Over beds of purest snow, 
 Merrily our horses go ! 
 
 Winter, winter, it is here! 
 Boys put on your skating gear ; 
 
 Is there one but loves to glide 
 O'er the river's frozen tide ? 
 
 Winter, winter, it is here ! 
 Now when day doth disappear, 
 Gather we around the hearth. 
 Freely flows our joyous mirth. 
 
 Lamps are lighted, book is brought, 
 Read aloud are gems of thought. 
 Nine o'clock, and father dear 
 Calleth us for evening prav'r. 
 
 Then to our warm beds we hie, 
 Sot)n is closed in sleep each eye. 
 Dreams as snow flakes free and light, 
 Visit us the livelong night. 
 
 Winter, choicest season mine ! 
 Pleasures such as these are thine ; 
 If approved by His dear eye, 
 Days and nights how swiftly fly 1 
 
 8. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON ON LIARS. 
 
 Even the robber and cut-throat have their followers, who ad- 
 mire their address and intrepidity, their stratagem of rapine, and 
 their fidelity to the gang. The liar, and only the liar, is inva- 
 riably despised, abandoned, and disowned ; he has no domestic 
 consolations, which he can oppose to the censure of mankind ; 
 he can retire to no fraternity, where his crimes may stand in 
 place of virtue, but is given up to the hisses of the multitude, 
 without a friend, and without an apologist. 
 
14 
 
 THE HOME OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 THE HOME OF SHAKSPEAEE. 
 
 
 HERE is a little village, situated on the river Avon, 
 called Stratford. It is not very remarkable for 
 the beauty of its situation — although it is pretty 
 enough — and, indeed, it has few intrinsic attrac- 
 , tions ; yet it is, nevertheless, one of the most famous 
 ■f#p]aces in old England. It is known all over the civilized 
 world, and thousands every year make pilgrimages to it. 
 They do not worship there, as Mohammedans do at Mecca ; but 
 they go there because of their admiration of the genius of the 
 greatest bard that ever lived. There, in a cottage still standing, 
 was born William Shakspeare. In that little village, near which 
 the Avon flows so noiselessly, the great poet spent the years of 
 romping boyhood. From that spot the great world first heard of 
 him ; and there, in the parish church, a\\* that is mortal of him 
 now reposes. The day of my advent to Stratford-on-Avon, is a 
 red-letter day in my history. I cannot tell you with what enthu- 
 siasm my heart throbbed, as I took my seat on the top of the 
 veritable stage coach which was to convey m§ to Stratford. Though 
 I had previously visited nearly all the sM*8 .of Napoleon's great 
 victories, and had seen I know not how many beds (%^'hich the 
 hero had slept ; though I had lounged in his favorite "state car- 
 riage ; traced the letters he had cut with the imperial pen-knife on 
 a tree at Isola Bella on the very day of the battle of Marengo, 
 and had followed his track over the Alps, and rambled over many 
 of his battle-fields — I had never felt a tithe of the interest in that 
 great man, all covered with glory and blood, that I did now in this 
 pilgrimage to the early haunts of Shakspeare. Military heroes are 
 well enough, I suppose, in their way. But they do not make so 
 large a draft on my organ of veneration as those who have distin- 
 
THE HOME OF SHAKSPEARB. 15 
 
 guished themselves as poets, statesmen, orators, benefactors of their 
 race. 
 
 It struck me as rather a singular fact, that, all covered with rail- 
 ways as so great a portion of England is, you cannot reach Strat- 
 ford from any point by means of the iron horse. Is it not strange ? 
 I had reached Banbury by railway from Oxford. You remember 
 a little village called Banbury, don't you ? It was a household 
 word to me. When they told me I was at Banbury, the first in- 
 quiry I made was after the celebrated Banbury huns. Those I 
 found, warranted descendants in a direct line from the buns that 
 regaled the children in the days of the " good Queen Bess." The 
 " cock-horse" on which somebody " rode to Banbury cross," I was 
 not so successful in finding. I will tell you what I did find, 
 though. As I was loitering about the quiet little village in search 
 of something worth staring at, be it a "cock-horse" or anything 
 else, I saw a sign over a small building on which were the words, 
 " Infant School.''^ " Good !" I said to myself, " here are some of 
 the little urchins at all events, who are the descendants of the men 
 and women who must have witnessed that famoas advent to Ban- 
 bury Cross ; and who knows but one of them is himself a scion of 
 that illustrious somebody who performed the feat ?" So I quick- 
 ened my pace — for I had only two hours to spare before the coach 
 was to start — reached the school-house, knocked, was admitted, in- 
 troduced myself as a live Yankee, and was politely invited to take 
 a seat and see the children go thi'ough their evolutions. There 
 were two ladies engaged in teaching the children, of whom there 
 were some two hundred and fifty, all told. I cannot say much for 
 the excellence of this institution. It has its good points, I sup- 
 pose. But it strikes me as peculiarly unwise to herd together such 
 an army of children, half of whom are but just old enough to walk, 
 and to keep them sitting so long in bad air. " What do you think 
 of the school ?" said the chief matron, after a round of exercises. 
 " Madam," I said, " I like your school as well as anything of the 
 kind I ever saw; but couldn't you contrive to get these little folks 
 decently washed ?" The only answer she gave me was a shrug of 
 the shoulders. The question took her all aback. I am not sure 
 but she has been considering it ever since. 
 
16 THE HOME OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 By-and-bye the little creatures, some of whom were sleepy enoii<Th, 
 so that their little heads dropped on their shoulders, were ranged 
 on seats raised one above another upon a platform in one end of 
 the room, and I was requested to make an address to them. You 
 may be sure I was delighted to do so. I talked to them about fif- 
 teen minutes. The sleepy ones got waked up pretty thoroughly 
 before I had done. " And now," I said in conclusion, " would you 
 like to hear the Song of the Snow Bird ?" They all nodded as- 
 sent, and I sang the child's little ballad of the chick-a-de-de. They 
 were delighted with the song, and as for the teachers, they wanted 
 copies of it to send to all the infant schools in England. 
 
 The coach took me from Banbury to Warwick, by the way of 
 Leamington, quite a celebrated watering-place. From Warwick, 
 we had a very heavy load of passengers and trunks. The pro- 
 prietor, riowever, who was himself in the coach, still kept taking 
 more passengers, although we begged of him not to do so, fearing 
 the vehicle would break down. My place was on the top, and I 
 did not much relish the descent I might make, in case of a dis- 
 aster to the coach. When about half way to Stratford, it began to 
 rain violentl}'-, and right in the midst of the drenching, crack went 
 the understanding of our vehicle. It was not able to bear up 
 under its severe trials and infirmities. Tiie deck passengers, more 
 scared than hurt, came to the ground, myself among the number, 
 by the simple force of gravitation. vThose in the cabin, who 
 •were mostly ladies, screamed. The driver swore — jdst as if that 
 would make matters any better — and the travelers scolded the pro- 
 prietor. We hoisted a signal of distress, by which means we se- 
 cured assistance, and were towed to a blacksmith's shop not far off, 
 where our damages were temporarily repaired ; and soon we were 
 on our way again. This accident, like nearly all fise otl^ers in 
 which I shared while in Eurq^e, resulted altogether in my favor. 
 By it I was placed inside the coach, which was not of itself a very 
 unpleasant circumstance, considering the driving rain, and not only 
 so, but I soon found myself chatting with an exceedingly pleasant 
 young lady, a native of the county of Warwick, who entertained 
 me all the rest of the way to Stratford with her piquant remarks 
 about the county. 
 
THE HOME OF SHAKSPEAKE. 17 
 
 I stopped at the same inn where Washington Irving remained 
 while in Stratford. The oWiging host showed me a pair of tongs 
 and poker which his literary guest has honored in his "Sketch- 
 book." He keeps them as relics, and is vastly proud of them. 
 " That poker," said he, '' which is hardly worth a hmjpenny, (the 
 English people almost always pronounce half-penny in this man- 
 ner,) I would not sell for a hundred pounds." Perhaps not, but I 
 guess the money, all counted out in sovereigns — Victoria sover- 
 eigns, of full weight — would be a strong temptation to him. 
 
 The house where Shakspeare was born is, on the whole, the 
 most noted lion in Stratford. To it I repaired in an hour after my 
 arrival. An elderly lady shows us what there is to be seen in 
 the old mansion. To hear her talk, you would almost fancy it was 
 Ann Hathaway herself, the veritable wife of the great poet. The 
 building is antique enough. It is quite a humble affair, ^here 
 is nothing lordly in its appearance, w^ithout or within. The 
 truth is, Shakspeare's father was far from being a rich man. 
 Will had to make his way in the world by his own laboi-, or his 
 own wit, which is about the same thing. You can't imagine what 
 a multitude of names there are in a book which they keep here. 
 As I turned over its pages — and this, you must know, is only one 
 of the pile of books which have been written over in the same 
 way — it really seemed to me as if all the great men and women 
 who had lived since the death of the great poet had made a 
 pilgrimage here. Here I saw the names, written with their own 
 hands, of the Duke and Duchess of Orleans, Walter Scott, Byron, 
 Washington Ir\'ing, James Hogg, Joanna Baillie, the Duke of 
 Wellington, George IV. William IV. Maria Edgeworth, Daniel 
 Webster, and I cannot stop to tell you how many more equally dis- 
 tinguished personages. The walls and the ceiling of the room in 
 which the book is kept are all covered over with names, as closely 
 as they can be written ; and the good lady who does the honors 
 of the mansion, told us that the present generation of names is the 
 third or fourth which have successively flourislied, the whole room 
 having been whitewashed as many times, by which process all the 
 heroes respectively then on the stage were consigned to unmitigated 
 oblivion. It is proper to state, that there are two houses in Sti'at- 
 
18 THE HOME OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 f 'i-d, between which a spicy and rather spiteful rivahy exists, each 
 claiming to be the great centre of attraction. I believe there is no 
 doubt that the house they show us as the birth-place of the poet 
 is genuine. With respect to some of these relics, however, the 
 most of which are to be found in the other house I have alluded 
 to, they are not all quite so well authenticated, and some of them, 
 if admitted into an antiquarian's creed at all, can only be received, 
 I apprehend, as some Calvinists take the Westminster Catechism, 
 '' for substance of doctrine." However, this rival house is a vastly 
 interesting place to visit, and no hunter after Shakspearean an- 
 tiquities should leave Stratford without exploring it. They have 
 more enthusiasm here than they have at the old homestead. That 
 is one good thing. They talk none of the stupid gibberish of the 
 parrot to you ; but they go at their business of showing up the 
 relici^s if they had caught some of the fire that burned in the 
 soul of the great bard, as I make no doubt they have. They are 
 descendants of Siiakspearo, they tell us, and the grandmother of 
 the lady who enteitained us was born in the same room where 
 William first saw the light. Shakspeare's chair, the identical chair 
 in which he was wont to sit, they reverently show us, as also a great 
 many other things, all of which I gazed upon with a great deal of 
 faith, mingled with a few drachms of scepticism. Reams of poetry, 
 taken from the old house, have accumulated here. Some of it is 
 good, some bad, and the greater portion indifferent. The stanza 
 following I copied as belonging to the first-mentioned grade. It 
 was written by one who was accompanied by two ladies, whom he 
 compliments in this strain : 
 
 Immortal spirit ! in thy natal place 
 
 A Desdemona's mind and Juliet's grace 
 
 Bend ai; thy shrine. Receive the homage due 
 
 Frona sweeter virtues than thy fancy drew. 
 
 Was not the writer in love ? I would give a haypenny to know 
 if he did not eventually marry either the Desdemona or the Juliet. 
 A picture of David and Goliath, not by any means in the highest 
 style of the art, is shown us as the one, if my memory serves me, 
 over the mantel-piece of the best room in Shakspeare's house. It 
 
THE HOME OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 19 
 
 is dated 1606, and underneath it are these lines, which certainly 
 were not written by Milton, unless at a very tender age : 
 
 Goliali comes with, sword and speare, 
 
 And David with his sling; 
 Although Goliah. rage and sweare, 
 
 Down David doth him hring. 
 
 THE MONITMENT OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 The church in which Shakspeare was interred is quite an old 
 edifice. I attended service there on Sunday. It is delightfully 
 situated on the banks of the Avon. The approach to it is by a 
 lono- avenue formed by two rows of beautiful lime trees. I did not 
 like the way in which the service was read. Why do so many 
 English clergymen adopt that sing-song tone when they read ? 
 
20 THE HOME OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 What is the benefit of it ? The beadle is quite a military-looking 
 character. He carries a long pole, and wears a regimental coat, 
 with red collar and cuffs. One look at him would frighten all the 
 boys in a Connecticut meeting-house half, if not three quarters out 
 of their senses. The responses were all sung, and well sung, too. 
 This part of the service was very impressive. 
 
 The poet's monument is in the chancel. A bust on the wall, 
 above the spot where he was interred, is said to be a very truthful 
 likeness; It is from this bust that most of the likenesses of Shaks- 
 peare were originally taken. On a plain slab over his remains are 
 these lines, written by himself : 
 
 n 
 
 Good frend, for Jesus' sake forteare 
 To digg ye dust enclosed heare ; 
 Blest "be ye man yt spares thes stones, 
 And curst be he yt moves my bones. 
 
 These lines, probably, have prevented the removal of the poet's re- 
 mains to Westminster Abbey. Nobody cares to run the risk of 
 incurring the anathema which stares at us on the face of this 
 stone. .« 
 
 Snakspeare's wife is interred by his side. On a brass plate is this 
 inscription : " Here yeth interred ye body of Anne, wife of Wil- 
 liam Shakspeare, who departed this life yc 6th day of August, 1G23, 
 being of the age of 67 years." ^ 
 
 Apropos of this Ann Hathaway, who made the poet such an 
 excellent wife, I 'went on a pilgrimage one day to Chartery, and 
 visited the cottage where she was born and where William did his 
 courting. The identical old seat, somethino: in the form of the 
 settle kept as an heir-loom in some New England families, is still 
 extant, on which the poet used to sit! with Ann, pending the said 
 courtship. If you will not charge me with beiff^ an inveterate 
 relic-hunter, I will just intimate to you that I broke off a piece 
 of that old seat, and that it is now preserved in my cabinet of cu- 
 rious things. A descendant of the Hathaway family still lives here. 
 She is a fine specimen of the peasantry of old England, with her 
 head full of reverent thoughts of her honored ancestors. The bed- 
 stead which stood in the best room as long ago as the time when 
 
 
THE HOME OF SHAKSPEARE. 21 
 
 Ann was a romping girl at home, still stands in the garret. It is 
 made of oak, and curiously and grotesquely carved. The posts are 
 of huge dimensions, and surmounted with a sort of ceiling. Fig- 
 ures, mostly representing, or intended to represent scripture char- 
 acters and more modern saints, are carved upon this ceiling. The 
 work is exceedingly rude. The obliging young mistress of the 
 mansion gathered a bouquet for me from the garden, when I was 
 ready to leave, and followed me to the gate before she said her 
 adieu. God bless her, and the two little buds so like her, just be- 
 ginning to unfold in the light of her frank, good-natured counte- 
 nance. 
 
 On the way back from Chartery to Stratford, I saw an ale-house 
 with a sign quite in the style of the olden time. Over it was a 
 rude painting of a gate, with this -inscription on the four hori- 
 zontal boards : 
 
 This gate hangs high; 
 It hinders none ; 
 ■* Refresh and paj', 
 
 Then travel on. 
 
 A conceit like this was very common with the inn-keepers in Eng- 
 land a hundred years ago or inore ; and if you travel off the track 
 of the railways, among the little obscure villages, you will see many 
 traces of such taste, %hicJi have remained undisturbed until the 
 present day, notwithstanding the prevalence in that country of a 
 higher degree of refinement. 
 
 A visit to the estate of the Lucy family, and a view of the beau- 
 tiful park where one Will Shakspeare, in a freak of boyhood, once 
 killed a deer, interested me not a little. Half a score of dogs, 
 belonging to the present proprietor, welcomed me to the place, and 
 a couple of deer, fine fellows, stood in the edge of the park, look- 
 ing at me, for alt the world, as if they would say, " Yes, sir, we 
 are the lineal descendants of the tine fellow^ that Will slew." 
 
 Just before I left Stratford, I took a long stroll on the banks of 
 the Avon. Fine willow trees grow on either side of the stream. 
 A company of merry boys were trying their luck with hooks and 
 lines along the banks, the cunning fish serving them, for the most 
 part, I thought, much as they used to serve me when I tried to 
 
22 HOODWINKING THE PIGEONS. 
 
 coax them out of the " Great Brook," that is, they gave the young 
 anglers a wide berth. A cane which I cut from the bank of the 
 Avon is one of the choicest mementoes which I brought away with 
 me from mv fatherland. 
 
 
 HOODWINKING THE PIGEONS. 
 
 PIGEONS are much more injurious to the gardener and farmer 
 than crows, or any other of the feathered animals. It is said 
 that each pigeon eats its own weight of food in a day, and that 
 principally of a vegetable nature. A new-sown field of barley or 
 peas is therefore a glorious treat, and will be made short work of 
 by a flock. The boys and farm lads of Sussex, England, follow a 
 strange plan of thinning flocks of marauding pigeons. Going to 
 a garden or field likely to be frequented by these animals for the 
 sake of plunder, they stick into the ground small pieces of paper, 
 twirled into the shape of a funnel, the pointed end being down- 
 most. Into each of these paper funnels the cruel fellows place a 
 single pea. 
 
 The boys having left the ground, the pigeons soon arrive, and 
 commence looking about for food ; and, seeing peas ready, as 
 they imagine, for the picking up, they pop their head into the 
 funnel, which, sticking to them, they lift up, and immediately 
 mount into the air, as if with a night-cap drawn over their eyes. 
 Under such hapless circumstances, they soar aloft, in a perfectly 
 straight line to the zenith, until lost to the eye of the beholder 
 in the clouds. How far the poor creatures thus proceed into the 
 heights of the atmosphere, it is impossible to^onjecture. It is 
 certain they continue their flight till nature is exhausted within 
 them, and death relieves them from their misery. Down they 
 then sink through the yielding air, like a bullet ; and so straight 
 upward has been their course, that they generally fall within a few 
 feet of the spot whence they took their flight. 
 
WONDERS OF THE OCEAN. 
 
 23 
 
 
 WONDERS OF THE OCEAK 
 
 WHAT myriads of wonderful things there are in and about the 
 ocean ! I think the animals and plants properly belonging to 
 the sea are, on the whole, much more curious than those of the land. 
 Let us take an imaginary stroll upon the sea-shore. Listen now to 
 the endless roar of the ocean waves. Be the surface of the water 
 ever so smooth, these billows are breaking against the coast. Take 
 care that you don't get completely drenched by the breakers. They 
 are not famed for their politeness. Seldom have they been known 
 to forward a card in advance of their visit. More than once, as I 
 have been standing on the shore, lost, for the moment, in admira- 
 tion of old ocean's music, a wave higher than the rest, has waked 
 me up completely by drenching me from head to foot. I don't 
 suppose the breakers ever laugh. Indeed they seem rather to sigh 
 and moan. But if they could laugh, I know they would, when 
 they succeed in wetting a poor fellow after this sort. 
 
 Some of the vegetables we find about the sea-shore are well 
 
24 
 
 WONDERS OF THE OCEAN. 
 
 worth our attention. There is the pretty sea convolvulus, for in- 
 stance. 
 
 THE SEA CON VOLVULUS. 
 
 THE IRISH MOSS. 
 
 This plant £^rows in a sandy situation, near the sea, so near that 
 its flower is kissed by the spray of the waves. It is one of the 
 loveliest plants of the beach. I often saw it on the coast of Eng- 
 land, and it is found, I believe, on our own shores. Its flower is 
 of a pink color, with delicate yellow plaits. This plant is a sister 
 of the beautiful morning glory which so lovingly blooms near our 
 houses. Its botanical name is the Convolvulus Soldanella. 
 
 There are many diff'erent sea-weeds washed ashore by the waves, 
 which are interesting. Among these is the Irish moss. This va- 
 riety of sea-weed has none of the^npleasant odor which attaches 
 to the family in general when they are washed upon the* beach. 
 It is called the Irish moss, because in Ireland the people often mafce 
 a jelly of it, and use it for food. Clusters of this tough, but flexible 
 sea-weed, with its fringed and curled edges, may often be seen, 
 lying on the beach, in crisped and bleached masses, far above the 
 ordinary rise of the waves. Unless I greatly mistake, the Irish 
 moss is sometimes used for medicine in this countrv. I think, in- 
 
WONDERS OF THE OCEAN. 25 
 
 deed, I may safely say so, for there are not many plants in the land 
 which have not been honored, first or last, by being given to in- 
 valids. Of one thing I am sure : some of our ladies make a kind 
 of jelly of it, which they serve up in the shape of hlanc mange^ more 
 properly, though less commonly spelled hlanc manger^ the English 
 of which is white food. 
 
 THE SEA LACK". 
 
 Another sea-weed, found in great abundance on some of our 
 coasts, is called the sea lace. It is a cord-like plant, rather slimy 
 and very tough, which loves to entwine itself about rocks and 
 stones. Thirty or forty of the cords frequently spring from a single 
 root. When it is dry, it is strong enough, almost, for a shoe-string. 
 Fishermen sometimes use it for lines. It bears the name, in Eng- 
 land, of the dead man's rope^ because it has often been known to 
 prove fatal to the poor swimmer. He has breasted the waters 
 in the quiet, land-locked bay, in fearless pleasure, little dreaming 
 that its entangling cords should wind about him so fast that all 
 efforts to break the coil would be useless. Yes ! these ropes have 
 wound round many a dying man, and, doubtless, often awaken 
 touching regrets and heart-rending memories to the wanderers on 
 the shore. In bays where the bottom is sandy or muddy, the plant 
 increases to such a degree, that it seriously impedes the course of 
 vessels. It is sometimes forty feet long. When young, it is thickly 
 clothed with slender threads, which disappear entirely as it becomes 
 older. 
 
 VOL. V. 2 JY 
 
26 
 
 THE KING-HILL. 
 
 THE KING-HILL. 
 
 BY J. P. M'CORD. 
 
 HE king-liiL What is that, 1 wonder." It is 
 no particular elevation oi land so named. Nor 
 is it a place where a king has put seed in the 
 ground, or a hill from which a king is expected 
 to be produced, in the manner of a vegetable. For, 
 though kings sometimes suggest the idea of preen pro- 
 ductions, yet, as far as I know, they never grow on vines 
 or stalks. 
 
 " What, then, can you mean by a king-hill ?" I will tell you. 
 You know, without being told, that a king suggests the idea of 
 superiority. He is greater than other people, somehow. So, a hill 
 of corn, or of beans, in which a large number of seeds have been 
 planted, has some degree of eminence about it. It is a king-hill. 
 
 In my native place it was the custom, m planting time, for the 
 little folks to go before the men in the field, and drop the corn 
 for them to cover. We were instructed to put in each hill not less 
 than three grains, and no more than five. Once in a while, how- 
 ever, when we were uncommonly smart, and had got considerably 
 in advance of the laborers, we would deposit a handful or two in a 
 place, and cover them so carefully that nothing amiss could be dis- 
 covered. Such we used to call king-hills. In due time, of course, 
 a plenty of blades made their appearance, and told plainly enough 
 what sort of game we had been playing. 
 
 A boy that I have heard of, was sent by his father to a field 
 planted with corn, to stick a quantity of pumpkin seeds in the hills. 
 He was an energetic, driving fellow, it would seem. To stop at 
 every other hill, and put in a seed or two at a time, was a process 
 
A THOUGHTFUL BOY. . 27 
 
 altogether too slow for him. So he went to an old stump, which 
 happened to be there for his special accommodation, a.pparently, 
 and threw into the cavity of it a good part of the seeds, and cov- 
 ered them nicely with dirt. He could tell his father, of course, in 
 reply to any questions, that he had planted them. 
 
 When hoeing-time came, the pumpkin vines were rather scarce. 
 The old gentleman wondered at the circumstance a good deal. 
 Could the seed have been so very poor ? He discovered a certain 
 stump, at length, with quite a remarkable appearance. A profu- 
 sion of vines were crowding out of its top, like plants in a vase. 
 " Can you tell, son, what is growing in that stump ?" said he. The 
 boy's curiosity was excited at once. He walked around the stump, 
 and examined the plant criticall}'', brushing open the leaves, ob- 
 serving their form and size, and rubbing them between his fingers 
 to get their odor. He seemed at last to have satisfied his mind. 
 " I guess, father," said he, " it is egrimonyP That reply, the story 
 goes, saved his back from a thrashing. The father judged, prob- 
 ably, that such opening buds of genius ought to be fostered and 
 brought to maturity, to astonish the world some day. 
 
 It is no easy matter, please to notice and remember, to keep mis- 
 chief or a wrong deed concealed. It is sure to come to light, 
 some way or other, just as those large corn-hills manifested them- 
 selves, in the natural course of things. 
 
 Observe, also, that the fruit corresponds to the seed. From 
 pumpkin-seed comes — not egrimony — but pumpkins. Corn pro- 
 duces corn, and wheat produces wheat. Even so it is in moral 
 conduct. Good deeds and bad deeds bring forth their proper fruits, 
 respectively. " Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." 
 
 A Thoughtful Boy. — " Mother," said a little shaver, the other 
 day, " I know what I would do if I were at sea, and the men were all 
 starving, and they should draw lots to see who should be killed and 
 eaten, and if it should be me — I'd jump into the water." " But," said 
 his mother, " they would fish you up." '* No," said he, " I wouldn't 
 bite 1" 
 
28 
 
 WEBSTER ON HIS FARM. 
 
 
 -^^- ■'W•r,.fiP'^1^:>- 
 
 
 WEBSTER ON HIS FARM. 
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER, one of the greatest statesmen, I need not 
 inform my readers, that the world ever produced, was born 
 amid the charms of rustic life. His father was a farmer, and he 
 himself received his early education on a farm. It does not appear 
 that young Daniel was particularly attached to farming as a pro- 
 fession. Indeed, if all the stories about him are correct, he made a 
 better scholar than farmer in his early days, before he had " sowed 
 his wild oats." If my memory serves me faithfully, it was Daniel 
 of whom they tell the anecdote about the hanging of a certain 
 scythe. The youngster's scythe was hung so baYily, it seemed, that 
 he could not mow with it at all. " Father," said he, " I wish you 
 
 A 
 
WEBSTER ON HIS FARM. 29 
 
 would hang my scythe better. It don't work well." The father 
 did as he was requested. But still Daniel was not suited. Several 
 times the instrument was hung over again, to please the youthful 
 mower, until the old gentleman got out of patience, saying, " Hang 
 the scythe to suit yourself, Dan." The words had no sooner left 
 the elder Webster's mouth, than Daniel coolly walked up to the 
 large tree where the luncheon was kept, and hung the scythe on 
 one of its branches, remarking, as he did so, " Now the scythe hangs 
 to suit me." From this anecdote I gather two items of intelligence 
 respecting young Daniel : first, that he was a little given to wit, 
 and secondly, that he was troubled with a complaint too common 
 among boys, called laziness. 
 
 But in after life, when Daniel Webster became a great orator and 
 statesman, we find him deeply attached to the country, and es- 
 pecially to that humble spot where he was born, where he romped 
 in the sunny days of childhood, and where he laid the foundation 
 for his future fame. The home of his boyhood was in New Hamp- 
 shire. But his home in later years was at Marshfield, in Massa- 
 chusetts. Here he had a fine farm ; and here he took as much 
 pleasure in raising corn and potatoes as he did in pleading a 
 great case before the Supreme Court, or making an eloquent speech 
 in the Senate at Washington. To my mind, reader, one of the 
 most interesting points from which to view the life and character 
 of great men is amid the calm and unpretending scenes of home. 
 Webster at Marshfield, interests me quite. as deeply as Webster at 
 Washington. The portrait of him, taken in his plain rustic garb, 
 but a short time before his death, under a favorite tree on his 
 farm, pleases me even more than the portraits representing him in 
 the hall of legislation. In the picture at the head of this article, 
 you see the man as he appeared in his every-day life as a farmer. 
 Mr. Lanman, as well as many others who knew him well, tells us 
 that his character in no situation appeared to greater advantage 
 than when he was among his cows and sheep at Marshfield. Then 
 he unbent himself, and gave play to his native humor, without re- 
 straint. 
 
 An incident, trivial in itself, has recently come to my knowledge, 
 which illustrates the irood nature of Daniel and his kindness to 
 
30 WEBSTER ON HIS FAEM. 
 
 dumb beasts, when a boy. I will relate it to you. It is one among 
 many proofs I might give you that noble minds are above being 
 cruel and unfeeling towards the lower animals. It would appear 
 that a certain woodchuck had made his appearance on the prem- 
 ises of the Webster family, when Ezekiel, Daniel's brother, set a 
 steel trap for the fellow, and caught him. The captor proposed at 
 once to kill the animal, and put an end to his trials. Daniel 
 wished to let the prisoner go. At this juncture, the father of the 
 boys proposed that his sons should each of them make a plea on 
 the question, and that he would act as judge. The proposal suited 
 the boys. Ezekiel urged the execution of the prisoner, pleading 
 that he was generally mischievous, and that if he was allowed to 
 escape, he would unquestionably eat up ever so many cabbages 
 and crookneck squashes. Daniel took up on the other side. The 
 argument of his brother had made a sensible impression upon the 
 judge, but the tide was soon turned the other way. The counsel 
 for the prisoner said, God had made the woodchuck ; he made him 
 to live, to enjoy the bright sunlight, the pure air, the free fields 
 and woods. God had not made him or anything in vain ; the 
 woodchuck had as much right to life as any other hving thing ; 
 he was not a destructive animal, as the fox and the wolf were ; he 
 simply ate a few common vegetables, of which they had plenty, and 
 could well spare a part ; he destroyed nothing except the little food 
 he needed to sustain his life ; and that little food was as sweet to 
 him as was to them the food upon his mother's table. God fur- 
 nished their own food ; he gave them all they possessed ; and 
 would they not spare a little for the dumb creature, who really had 
 as much right to his small share of God's bounty as they them- 
 selves had to their portion ? Yea, more, the animal had never 
 violated the laws of his nature or the laws of God, as man often 
 did ; but strictly followed the simple, harmless instincts he had re- 
 ceived from the hand of the Creator of all things. Created by 
 God's hand, he had a right, a right from God, to life, to food, to 
 liberty ; and they had no right to deprive him of either. During 
 this appeal the tears had started to the old man's eyes, and were 
 fast running down his sun-burnt cheeks : every feeling of a father's 
 heart was stirred within him ; his pity and sympathy were 
 
WEBSTER ON HIS FARM. 31 
 
 awakened by the eloquent words of compassion, and the strong 
 appeal for mercy ; and forgetting the judge in the man and fa- 
 ther, he sprang from his chair, while Daniel was in the midst of 
 his argument, without thinking he had already w^on his case, and 
 turning to his older son, dashing the tears from his eyes, exclaimed, 
 " Zeke, Zeke, you let that woodchuck go /" 
 
 Mr. Webster had a very rustic appearance, when he was at home 
 on his farm, as yon see by the picture. A very funny circumstance 
 once grew out of this fact. He was tramping over the salt meadows 
 shooting ducks, in company with one Seth Peterson. Two young 
 fops from Boston, with more conceit than brains, were following 
 the same sport, and Mr. Webster met them just as they were dis- 
 cussing the best method of getting across a wet spot in the 
 meadow. Judging from his rude aspect that he was some stout 
 old farmer, they hailed him: "Hallo, old fellow!" "Hallo!" 
 shouted Mr. Webster, in reply. " Won't you come and carry us 
 over this wet spot on your back ?" " O, yes." So he approached 
 them, and carried them one after the other over the bog, on his 
 back. The verdant youths then offered him a quarter of a dollar 
 for his trouble, and asked : " Is old Webster at home ? We have 
 had poor luck in shooting, and we will just give the old fellow a 
 call." " Mr. Webster is not at home now ; but he will be as soon 
 as / can walk to the house ; and then, young gentlemen, I shall 
 be glad to see you at my table to dinner," continued Mr. Webster, 
 with a tone and manner which made the poor young men shrink 
 into themselves for shame. They were very glad to hurry toward 
 Boston, without visiting the Webster mansion. It is to be hoped 
 this incident taught them to speak of men with proper respect, 
 and to act like gentlemen even toward plainly and coarsely dressed 
 strangers. I have not the slightest doubt but they would have sold 
 .themselves at least fifty per cent, cheaper after this interview witli 
 Mr. AVebster, than they would have been inclined to do before 
 that. 
 
 This great orator and statesman departed this life on the morning 
 of the 24th day of October, 1852. His last words were, '•' I still 
 UveP An immense concourse of persons attended his funeral at 
 Marshfield, where he was buried on his own estate, in a plain, sim- 
 
32 
 
 THE LEDGER. 
 
 THE WEBSTER TOMB. 
 
 pie tomb, erected under his own direction some years since. It 
 stands on the summit of a hill. It is built of granite. The floor 
 is six feet below the surface, and its summit rises six feet above, 
 like a mound. Its only inscription is the name of its occupant : 
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 
 
 THE LEDGER. 
 
 HOW admirably is brought out in. the following lines, the great 
 ■ truth that the merchant is to give account at the bar of God 
 for the manner in which he conducts his trade. I copy them from 
 a paper conducted by young ladies, and published in Minesota : 
 
 Tare and tret, 
 
 Gross aud net, 
 Box and hogshead, dry and wet : 
 
 Ready made, 
 
 Of every grade. 
 Wholesale, retail, will you trade ? 
 
 Goods for sale, 
 
 Roll or bale, 
 Ell or quarter, yard or nail : 
 
 Every dye. 
 
 Will you buy ? 
 None can Bell aa cheap as 1 1 
 
 Thus each day 
 
 Wears away, 
 Aud liis hair is turning gray 1 
 
 O'er his books 
 
 He uightly looks, 
 Counts his gaius and bolts his locks. 
 
 By and by 
 
 He will die — 
 But the Ledger book on high 
 
 Shall unfold 
 
 How he sold, 
 How he got and used his gold I 
 
THE SOUNDS OF LITTLE FEET. 83 
 
 THE SOUNDS OF LITTLE FEET. 
 
 BY W^. EDWARD KXOWLES. 
 
 From my window and at evening, 
 
 Hear I sounds of little feet, 
 Up and down the frosted pavement, 
 
 Up and down the crowded street. 
 All day long, in countless numbers, 
 
 They are passing to and fro ; 
 And the footsteps up the pavement, 
 
 Echo to those heard below. 
 
 Merry shouts, that end in laughter, 
 
 Mingle with the tread of feet — 
 Mingle with the louder echoes 
 
 Of the toilers in the street. 
 Singing as they pass my window, 
 
 Singing sweetly as they go ; 
 Leaving foot-prints on the pavement. 
 
 Foot-prints on the sands of snow. 
 
 And I love to hear their footsteps, 
 
 Mingled sounds of little feet ; 
 Up and down the frosted pavement. 
 
 Up and down the crowded street ; 
 Hear them pass from night till morning, 
 
 Pass my window, to and fro ; 
 Hear the footsteps up the pavement. 
 
 Echo to those heard below. 
 
 As I listened to the echoes, 
 
 From the window of my room, 
 Twilight nestled at the casement, 
 
 Bringing down a gorgeous gloom. 
 With it came a gloomy vision. 
 
 Vision of their riper years ; 
 And seen through the veil of sorrows. 
 
 Through the medium of tears. 
 
 VOL. V. 2* JY 
 
84 THE SOUNDS OF LITTLE FEET. 
 
 Other foot-prints saw I added 
 
 To the smaller foot-prints then, 
 Foot-prints that were not of children, 
 
 But were footsteps made by men. 
 In my dream years had been numbered, 
 
 As they oft have been before ; 
 And the child who passed my window. 
 
 Was a happy child no more. 
 
 Sterner cares and sterner duties. 
 
 Came upon the numbered years, 
 'Till his joys were sadly mingled 
 
 With his anxious hopes and fears, 
 And his feet were weak and trembling, 
 
 Like the measure of my rhyme, 
 And eclipsed by swifter footsteps. 
 
 And outmarched by those of time. 
 
 Then again beneath my window, 
 
 Heard J sounds of little feet, 
 Passing up and down the pavement, 
 
 Up and down the crowded street. 
 All day long they had been passing, 
 
 Quickly passing to and fro ; 
 Leaving foot-prints on the pavement, 
 
 Foot-prints on the sands of snow. 
 
 All the time that I'd been dreaming. 
 
 They were passing by the same ; 
 And to pass in joy the moments, 
 
 Seemed their only end and aim — 
 Passing up and down the pavement. 
 
 Passing quickly to and fro ; 
 Leaving foot-prints there behind then> 
 
 Foot-prints on the sands of snow 
 
FROGS AKD FROG MINES. 
 
 35 
 
 FEOGS AND FROG MINES. 
 
 HOPE the reader will not laugh so immoderately as 
 
 to occasion the loss of his buttons, if I tell him 
 
 something about a mine of frogs. It appears to be 
 
 a matter of history that frogs can live for centuries in 
 
 '\ the bosom of the earth, and that they have been found in 
 
 the very heart of a block of marble. That being the case, 
 
 ^ I don't see any impropriety in the term /ror/-m^;^(? which I 
 
 have taken it into my head to employ. But, be that as it may, 
 
 you must have some of the facts respecting the longevity of the 
 
 frog and toad tribes : 
 
 There are several accounts in natural history of toads being found 
 in the hearts of trees, and in solid rocks, wholly enclosed and shut 
 up from the air and all appearance of food, and being taken alive 
 out of such situations. In the Memoirs of the Academy of Sciences 
 there is an account, that, in the year 1*731, a toad was found in the 
 heart of an old oak, near Nantz, without any visible entrance to its 
 habitation. From the size of the tree, it w^as concluded that the 
 toad must have been confined in that situation at least eighty or a 
 hundred years. 
 
 We have several instances in Vermont equally extraordinary. 
 At Windsor, in September, 1790, a living frog was dug up at the 
 depth of nine feet from the surface of the earth. The place where 
 this frog was found, was about half a mile from the river, on the 
 interval lands, which are annually overflowed by its waters. 
 
 At Castleton, in the year 1779, the inhabitants were engaged in 
 building a fort near the centre of the town. Digging into the earth 
 five or six feet below the surface, they found many frogs, appa- 
 rently inactive, and supposed to be dead. Being exposed to the 
 air, animation soon appeared, and they were found to be alive and 
 healthy. Upon viewing the spot, it did not appear that it had ever 
 been overflowed with water, but it abounded with springs. 
 
36 THE CLERGYMAN AND HIS HORSE. 
 
 A more remarkable instance was at Burlington. In the year 
 1*788, Samuel Lane was digging a well near his house. At the 
 depth of twenty-five or thirty feet from the surface of the earth, the 
 laborers threw out with their shovels^ something which they sus- 
 pected to be ground-nuts, or stones covered with earth. Upon 
 examining these appearances, they were found to be frogs, towhich 
 the earth everywhere adhered. The examination was then made 
 of the earth in the well where they were digging. A large number 
 of frogs were found covered with the earth, and so numerous that 
 several of them were cut in pieces by the spades of the workmen. 
 Being exposed to the air, they soon became active ; but, unable to 
 endure the direct rays of the sun, the most of them perished. From 
 the depth of earth with which these frogs were covered, it cannot 
 be doubted but that they must have been covered over in the earth 
 for centuries. The appearances denote that the place whence these 
 frogs were taken, was once the bottom of a channel or lake, formed 
 by the waters of Onion river. In digging the same well, at the 
 depth of forty-one feet and a half from the surface, the workmen 
 found. the body of a tree eighteen or twenty inches in diameter, 
 partly rotten, but the greater part sound. The probability is, that 
 both the tree and the frogs were once at the bottom of the channel 
 of the river or lake ; that the waters of Onion river, constantly 
 bringing down large quantities of earth, gradually raised the bot- 
 tom ; that by the constant increase of earth and water, the water 
 was forced over its bounds, forming for itself a new channel or pas- 
 sage in its descent into Lake Champlain. 
 
 The Clergyman and his Horse. — A clergyman lost his horse 
 one Saturday evening. After hunting, in company with a boy, un- 
 til midnight, he gave up in despair. The next day, somewhat de- 
 jected at his loss, he went into the pulpit and took for his text the 
 passage from Job, " that I knew where I might find him !" The 
 boy, who had just come in, supposing the horse was the burden of 
 thought, cried out, " I know where he is. He's in Deacon Smith's 
 barn." 
 
\ 
 
 ^([y~J<p^U 
 
 rORTRAIT OF WASHINGTON IR\TNG. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 S 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 jMONG the literary writers of America, no name stands 
 r< higher than that of Washington Irving. He has 
 Q accomplished a great deal for our national literature. 
 'f" Wherever I went in Europe, when our authors were 
 the theme of conversation, Irving's name was mentioned 
 with the profoundest respect. Mine host at Stratford-on- 
 Avon, as I have stated in another place, was so proud of having 
 once entertained Washington Irving at his house, that he preserved 
 the tongs and poker of his distinguished guest, as notable curiosi- 
 ties. Irving was born in the city of Xew York in the year 1783. 
 After receiving an ordinary education, he commenced the study of 
 law. At this time he was about sixteen years old. Only some 
 four years later, he contributed a series of papers to a paper called 
 the " Morning Chronicle." These papers attracted a good deal of 
 notice at the time, and were copied extensively in different parts 
 of the country. Some years afterwards, they were collected and 
 published without the sanction of the author. 
 
 In 1804, on account of ill health, he visited Europe. He landed 
 at Bordeaux, from which place he went to Genoa, where he re- 
 mained some two months. Then he went to Sicily, made the tour 
 of the island, crossed from Palermo to Xaples, and passed through 
 Italy. At Rome, he met Washington Allston, the artist, who 
 strongly urged him to become a painter. From Italy, he passed 
 over the Alps into Switzerland, and after spending a short time 
 amid the sublime scenery of that country, he visited Paris, where 
 he remained several months. He then went to Holland, whence 
 he embarked for England, where he spent about three months. 
 In March, 1806, he returned to New York, completely restored in 
 health. Though he resumed the study of law, and was admitted 
 to the bar, it does not appear that he ever practiced. 
 
 Not long after his return home, we find him a prominent writer 
 
'lo 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 in a periodical called " Salmagundi," the first number of which 
 appeared in January, 1807, and the last in January, 1808. In De- 
 cember of the following year, he published that humorous work 
 which has given him such great reputation, called " Knickerbock- 
 er's History of New York." During the second war with Great 
 Britain, he edited the " Analectic Magazine." 
 
 In 1815, he again went abroad. In 1818, the papers of the 
 " Sketch Book" were forwarded to New York, and published. 
 Afterwards they were published in a volume in London, by John 
 Miller, who failed soon after, and the copyright was transferred to 
 Mr. Murray. The latter gentleman gave about .one thousand dol- 
 lars for the copyright ; but its success greatly surpassed his expec- 
 tations, and he sent Mr. Irving, of his own accord, one thousand 
 dollars in addition. After a residence of some five years in Eng- 
 land, Mr. Irving removed to Paris. This was in August, 1820. 
 Here he remained till July of the following year, when he returned 
 to England. His " Bracebridge Hall" was published both in Lon- 
 don and New York in May, 1822. Then followed a tour on the 
 continent. In May, 1824, his "Tales of a Traveler" appeared. 
 In August of the same year he went to Paris, and in the autumn 
 of 1825 visited the south of France, spending part of the winter 
 at Bordeaux. In February, 1826, he left that city for Madrid, 
 where he remained tw^o years. Here he wrote the " Life of Co- 
 lumbus," which appeared in 1828. In the spring of 1828, he left 
 Madrid on a tour to the southern part of Spain. Then followed 
 bis " Conquest of Granada." In 1832, " Alhambra" was published. 
 In July he went to England, being appointed secretary of legation 
 to Mr. M'Lane, at that time our minister at London. 
 
 In 1831, the Univei-sity of Oxford, England, conferred on Mr. 
 Irving the honorary degree of LL.D. In the spring of 1832, he 
 returned to New York, after an absence of seventeen years. His 
 return was greeted with the warmest enthusiasm. A public dinner 
 was given to him, at which Chancellor Kent presided. After his 
 return, the first thing which he published was an account of a 
 " Tour on the Prairies." Then came " Legends of the Conquest 
 of Spain," " Astoria," and the " Adventures of Captain Bonneville." 
 In 1839, he entered into an engagement with the proprietors of the 
 
THE EICH MAN ANT) THE BEGQAE. 
 
 "Knickerbocker Magazine," to furnish monthly articles for that 
 periodical. 
 
 In April, 1842, he went again to Spain, this time in the capacity 
 of minister from our government. At the termination of his official 
 duties, in the summer of 1846, he returned to his native land, and 
 in 1848 commenced the publication of a revised edition of his 
 entire works, which had then for some time been out of print. 
 In 1849, he published " Oliver Goldsmith" and " Mahomet and his 
 Successors." 
 
 He has a charming place on the eastern bank of the Hudson, 
 called " Snnnyside." It is siVaated but a few minutes' walk from 
 my own residence. He is a most genial, warm-hearted, benevolent 
 man — so much so, that all who make him a call carry away with 
 them the happiest recollections of the visit. He reminds me, as he 
 welcomes his many visitors, of the picture which he himself has 
 given of the cordial manner in which Sir Walter Scott received 
 his guests at Abbotsford. His works will be read with interest as 
 long as our language lasts. It would be difficult to find a purer 
 and more nervous and elegant style in the whole range of English 
 literature. 
 
 THE EICH MAN AND THE BEGGAR 
 
 A RICH man was passing along the road in a splendid coach, 
 when a cur sallied out, snarling, and barking, and trying to stop 
 his horses by getting before them. A beggar Avas sitting by the 
 load-side, gnawing a bone, and apparently half famished, while 
 his clothes were falling from him in rags. The cur seeing him 
 thus employed, ran towards him, and fawned at his feet. 
 
 " You should teach your dog better manners," said the rich 
 man. 
 
 " He is not mine," said the other. 
 
 " Why, then, does he bark at me, and fawn on you ?" 
 
 ^^ DonH you see I have got a hone to throio awayP replied the 
 beggar. 
 
1 42 
 
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44 
 
 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 OUR FRONTISPIECE. 
 
 ■? 
 
 HE Portrait of Mrs. Newbould, with which our pa- 
 trons are presented in this number, is engraved 
 from a daguerreotype by Mr. Augustus Morand, 
 drawn on wood by Mr. Wallin, of this city, one 
 of the most accomplished artists in the Union, and engraved 
 by Mr. Cox, of the firm of Messrs. Richardson t!^ Cox. The 
 work is a credit to all concerned, though it is but justice 
 to our friend and associate to say, that the countenance 
 has necessarily lost some of its expression by being dupli- 
 cated and reduplicated. Are you aware, my young friend, 
 how many processes must be gone through with, before a printed 
 portrait is produced ? First, the person who is to be shown up be- 
 fore the public must sit for a daguerreotype likeness. That being 
 obtained, it is carefully penciled upon the wood block, that having 
 been first whitened for the purpose. Then the engraver, following the 
 lines on the wood, performs his task. Afterwards, electrotype or 
 stereotype casts are taken from the engraving. Then, the printer takes 
 these casts, and from them produces the impressions which you see in 
 the magazine. In going through these five processes, it is not strange 
 that a portrait should vary a little from the meridian of truthfulness. 
 
 AN AMUSING GAME. 
 
 " Come, children, don't make such a noise," said Charlotte. " Mother 
 has got a headache ; let us all sit round the fire and have a game of 
 planting." 
 
 " Planting !" exclaimed her cousin Willie, a laughter-loving boy of 
 fourteen, whose very hair seemed to be laughing at society generally, 
 in its curliness and impossibility to look straight; "planting! what's 
 that ? Do you mean we are all to plant our feet on the fender ?" 
 
EDITOEIAL TABLE TALK. 45 
 
 " Not exactly," replied Charlotte ; " but if you will all come and sit 
 down, T will try and explain it. Now Fanny, suppose I say to you, ' If 
 I plant my face, what will grow?' you must name some flower, or 
 vegetable, or tree." 
 
 "I don't know," said Fanny, hesitatingly, " perhaps a 72ose-gay." 
 
 " No. Guess again." 
 
 " Well, then, tulips" (two lips). 
 
 " Oh ! yes, now T see," said Willie. " Sarah, if you should plant me, 
 what should T grow up ?" 
 
 " A terrible bad boy, I'm afraid." 
 
 "Now Miss Sarah, if you make any more disparaging remarks upon 
 this individual, you will be immediately sent up-stairs to bed ! Come 
 girls, what should I grow up ?" 
 
 " I know," said Ellen. " Sweet William." 
 
 "That's it, my little darling, and if I should plant you, you would 
 grow up Heart's Ease, wouldn't you, Nelly ? Come, Sarah, it's your 
 turn now." 
 
 " "Well," said Sarah, " if I plant my little toe, what would be likely to 
 grow 1" 
 
 " A-corn I guess," replied Charlotte. 
 
 "Good! That's /rs^ rcf/e," exclaimed Willie. "Now, Charlotte, 
 have you thought of another ?" 
 
 " Yes, if I plant the sun, what will grow ?" 
 
 " Four o'clock," suggested Willie. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Sun-flower ?" said Sarah. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Well, is it a flower we are all familiar with ?" 
 
 "Oh! yes, it grows almost wild." 
 
 While the children are trying to guess the name of the flower, will 
 not some of our readers send us their ideas on the subject, and pro- 
 pound another question ? s. n. 
 
 " Maria" is informed that Uncle Frank likes the style and drift of her 
 story, but is a little fearful that it will be too lengthy for the Cabinet. 
 
 I am sorry, dear "Jennie," that your little budget of agreeable things 
 came too late by a day or two. 
 
 The Old Ahherj of Foicre is a capital sketch, as — I may say without 
 flattery everything that comes from the writer's pen is sure to be. It 
 will see the lijjht in the next number. 
 
46 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 NOTICES OF RECENT PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 1. Hours of Life, and other Poems — a collection of poems which 
 would do honor to Mrs. Hemans or Mrs. Norton, but which were writ- 
 ten by one of our own countrywomen, Mrs. Sarah H. Whitman, of 
 Providence, R. I. Everything in the book is beautiful. Some of the 
 sonnets are as sweet and charming as the breath of an orange grove 
 in the evening twilight. Published by G. H. Whitney. 
 
 2. Golden Link; or, Poems and Tales for the Foimir, just published 
 by Mr. Scribner, is from the pen of our correspondent William Oland 
 Bourne. I need hardly say more than this, for all my readers know 
 that Mr. Bourne has the faculty of writing very fine things for the little 
 folks. The book, withal, is prettily illustrated and bound. 
 
 3. Tanglewood Tales — A Wonder Book. Such is the title of one of 
 Hawthorne's last volumes for the young. It is rich in material for 
 amusement and instruction, and cannot fail to please those who are 
 looking out for holiday presents. The book is published by Ticknor, 
 Reed, & Fields, and printed by George C. Rand. By the way, we used 
 to think, here in New York, that wood cuts could not be printed well 
 in Boston. But Mr. Rand, I perceive, is now printing cuts in a manner 
 which W'Ould not disgrace any printer on the continent — not even Mr. 
 Torrey himself (and that is saying a good deal) of our own city. 
 
 4. Hoiv to Behave,is another attractive little volume from Mrs. Man- 
 ners, published by Evans & Brittan. It merits universal favor. 
 
 5. Similitudes from the Ocean and the Prairie. This is a charming 
 little volume from our correspondent Lucy Larcom, which J. P. Jewett 
 & Co. the publishers, have prettily embellished and printed. 
 
 6. Mr. Charles C. Savage has recently brought out a large octavo 
 volume, entitled. Illustrated Biography ; or, Memoirs of the Great and 
 Good of all Nations and all Ti?nes, edited by C. C. Savage. It is illus- 
 trated by 250 engravings, and contains a vast amount of valuable in- 
 formation which the head of a family, in search of reading for long 
 winter evenings, might chase a good while after, in another direction, 
 without finding it. In this volume we have condensed, but readable 
 and sketchy biographies of a multitude of men, figuring in different pe- 
 riods of the world, and in various capacities — statesmen, heroes, phi- 
 losophers, artists, reformers, clergymen, poets, philanthropists, mechan- 
 ics, navigators, authors, soldiers, fcc. 
 
 7. Woodworth's Youth's Cabinet for 1853, in two volumes, beauti- 
 fully bound, is a capital thing for a holiday present to a young friend. 
 So, in fact, is the whole series, now forming four elegant volumes. 
 Price per volume 75 cents, postage paid to any part of the Union. 
 
THE puzzler's deawer. 47 
 
 THE PUZZLEE'S DRAWER 
 
 THE PRIZE ENIGMA IX PROSE. 
 
 BY CLIFFORD P. M'CALLA, OF PHILADELPHIA, PA. 
 
 I am composed of 41 letters. 
 
 My 32, 33, 18, 18, 6, was an eminent Florentine artist. 
 
 My 15, 22, 2, 24, 3, 18, 25, was a celebrated Italian physician and 
 naturalist. 
 
 My 15, 12, 32, 10, 22, was an eminent English architect. 
 
 My 28, 20, 9, 40, 17, 14, 11, was a German lyric poet. 
 
 My 6, 34, 10, 3, 11, 13, was an eminent French architect. 
 
 My 8, 33, 15, 9, was a celebrated English historian and philosopher. 
 
 My 41, 21, 3, 33, 17, was an eminent German musician. 
 
 My 25, 18, 27, 40, 2, 6, 41, 3, 11, 3, 12, was a viceroy of Mexico. 
 
 My 32, 3, 32, 3, 10, 13, 14, was a distinguished French astronomer. 
 
 My 19, 22, 24, 28, 35, 32, was a distinguished German anatomist. 
 
 My 36, 35, 25, 17, 9, 21, 7, was a learned German historian and mis- 
 cellaneous writer. 
 
 My 5, 3, 32, 8, 16, 33, 23, w\is a distinguished American statesman. 
 
 My 1, 32, 3, 19, 7, 18, 35, 14, 13, was an eminent Enghsh astronomer. 
 
 My 31, 25, 14, 32, 3, 12, was a modern Scotch poet. 
 
 My 41, 6, 21, 18, 21, 23, was an eminent English landscape painter. 
 
 My 41, 20, 39, 32, 29, 18, was a distinguished French architect. 
 
 My 8, 30, 37, 88, 28, 29, 10, was a Dutch anatomist and physician. 
 
 My 25, 7, 6, 26, 38, 21, 35, was a distinguished Spanish prehate. 
 
 My whole was the name and title of a distinguished marshal of 
 France. 
 
 RIDDLE so. I. 
 
 Mine is a simple riddle involving a riddle, which second involves an- 
 other infinitely deeper; so 'tis a three-fold riddle, and yet one. 
 
 A child may answer the simpler _^rs/, from his own reading, or from 
 the teachings of a dear mother's lips. Such answer may be found in 
 a Book penned for children, as well as for the middle-aged and hoary 
 head. 
 
 A score and ten once puzzled in vain over the second, thougli they 
 were of no childish years, and though a week was granted them for trial. 
 <^ The third, the riddle hidden under the second its emblem, none can 
 truly solve, save as the finger of Him who has traced it in the blessed 
 
48 THE puzzler's drawer. 
 
 Book, writes it experimentally upon the heart — it may be even upon 
 the heart of a child ! lauka. 
 
 THE TWIN RIDDLE. 
 
 My first is often very beautiful, often very plain ; often almost price- 
 less, often almost valueless. It has long been in use, yet grows in 
 favor daily. It is the ardent desire of the boy, lies near the heart of 
 his parent. It possesses several attributes of humanity, yet is the 
 creature of man. It controls many of our decisions, yet is pow^erless 
 to restrain. It suffers from neglect, yet is insensible to kindness. 
 
 My second is the first lesson we acquire in life, the last we yield in 
 death. 'Tis a solace in adversity, is inseparable from prosperity. The 
 humblest use it freely, the highest cannot dispense with its service. 
 It causes exquisite pain, it yields the keenest pleasure. It cheers the 
 thatched cottage, it enlivens the stately palace. It will cement friends, 
 it will imbitter enemies. The miser and the profligate are alike lavish 
 of it. The minister uses it in the pulpit, the jockey on the race-course. 
 It tells of love, it assures of hate. It greets us in meeting, it melts us 
 in parting. My first and second are distinct and perfect in themselves : 
 without them both, my whole could not be. 
 
 My first is a divine injunction, my last a heavenly gift. My first 
 guards the sleeping citizen, my second apprizes him of danger. My 
 first is a feline trait, my second is peculiar to intelligent beings. The 
 wisest subject my second to my first. 
 
 My whole has been in use from earliest times till now. It is jeal- 
 ously guarded, yet is daily thrown away. It is a key to admit, it is a 
 barrier to keep out. On the Jordan once, it brought death to some, 
 while it was the guerdon of life to others. George "Washington often 
 used it, while his boot-black used it at the same time. 
 
 My riddle is two-fold, but you cannot give answer that is not one 
 of its members. winthrop. 
 
 CHARADE NO. I. 
 
 My first from its original 
 Has suffered a contraction ; 
 
 And prosy people use the whole, 
 "While poets use the fraction. 
 
 Take from my first the leading one 
 Of letters which it claimeth, 
 
 The word you leave alone to run, 
 An article remaineth. 
 
 Invert my first, and it will spell 
 A horse of humble stature ; 
 
 Yet that he lacks in sprightly will, 
 Xone can e'er question nature. 
 
 My second is a cunning snare, 
 Which fish and bird once under^ 
 
 'Tis but the finder's cruel care 
 To snap their lives asunder I 
 
THE puzzler's DRAWER. 
 
 49 
 
 Take from my second member one, 
 You'll leave a French conjunc- 
 tion; 
 
 And in the Latin's harsher tongue, 
 You'll find it with less unction. 
 
 Invert my second, it will spell 
 An unit with its zero ; 
 
 Perchance a lad, whose years 'twill 
 tell. 
 Would think himself a hero. 
 
 My whole, a fowl, which swims the 
 coast 
 
 Of Labrador's cold ocean ; 
 Green Erin too, and Albion boast 
 
 Its little sail's commotion. 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 CHARADE NO. II. 
 
 My first is seen in all its pride 
 
 On summer nights, when bright and clear, 
 
 O'er hill and dale I beauty throw; 
 
 Night owes me much throughout the year ; 
 
 Some say my vphole no substance has, 
 
 However plain it may appear ; 
 
 I shall not give you further clue, 
 
 No need to one as smart as you, 
 
 Enough, my whole is written here. 
 
 S. N. 
 
 1. Time, a rat. 
 
 2. I CAN BET. 
 
 BUDGET OF ANAGRAMS, NO. 
 
 3. A POT RUG. 
 
 4. A NICE RAM. 
 
 5. Rapid sea. 
 
 6. a lone pet. 
 
 c. manning. 
 
 anagrams of scripture proper names, no. i. 
 
 1. i hate a ram. 3. rob a h03ie. 
 
 2. Head-band. 4. Use the meal. s. e. w. 
 
 ALPHABETIC PUZZLE. 
 
 Ye curious ones, who ply your minds 
 To solving puzzles of all kinds, 
 Now turn you to your A, B, C, 
 And quick untie this knot for me. 
 The list of words which I require, 
 Contains the alphabet entire : 
 But once each letter's to be used, 
 And all but English words refused. 
 If all the six and twenty sounds 
 Which of our language are the grounds, 
 3 
 
50 
 
 THE puzzler's DRAWER. 
 
 You can use up, as pointed out, 
 (Of which there is a serious doubt,) 
 'Twill be a feat of wondrous skill, 
 And competition sure will fail. 
 But this undone, pray ascertain 
 How few must unemployed remain. 
 
 THE CARDINAL PUZZLE. 
 
 Mr. Woodworth, — The idea of the following- curious puzzle is taken 
 from Albrecht Durer's celebrated work, called Melancolia. It is one of 
 more than ordinary difficulty, and will serve both to perplex and amuse 
 the youthful readers of your excellent periodical. It is to arrange the 
 cardinal numbers, from 1 to 16, in the form 
 of a solid square, (as in the accompanying 
 diagram,) in such a manner that the inva- 
 riable sum of those figures whicli fall in the 
 same straight line, whether vertical, horizon- 
 tal, or diagonal, shall be just 34. It may be 
 observed, further, tiiat when such an arrange- 
 ment is effected, the four figures immediately 
 around the centre of the diagram, and also 
 the four occupying the respective corners of the diagram, will like- 
 wise produce the same sum, when added, that is, 34. Here is a puzzle 
 which will tax all your wits, little friends. You must set about it in 
 earnest. Adrian van sinderin. 
 
 New Haven, Ct. 
 
 REBUS NO. I. 
 
 NAMES OF PLACES IN MASSACHUSETTS ENIGMATICALLY EXPRESSED. 
 
 1. A conjunction, and a preposition signifying above. 
 
 2. A mineral, and part of the body. 
 
 3. To repair, and a preposition. 
 
THE puzzler's DRAWER. . 51 
 
 4. Part of the body, and part of a forest. 
 
 5. An exclamation, and a pit of water. 
 
 6. A building for shelter, and an adjective signifying firm. s. £. w. 
 
 HISTORICAL QUERIES, NO. I. 
 
 Under this head Uncle Frank proposes to group together, from month 
 to month, questions of interest to the student of history. Some of 
 these questions will require a little study. But I hope no one will 
 be frightened at that. The knowledge you get by hard study is more 
 valuable to you than any other, because you are more likely to remem- 
 ber it in after life. I want you all to look up the answers to these 
 questions, and to send them to me, so that I can print them. 
 
 1. When did the Normans invade England 1 
 
 2. When were glass windows first used"? 
 
 3. What is meant by the Magna Charta 1 and when was it made ? 
 
 4. When was the magic lantern invented ? and by whom 1 
 
 5. When was Westminster Abbey built ? and under whose reign 1 
 
 6. When were clocks first made with wheels ? 
 
 7. At what time did the crusades commence ? How many crusades 
 were there ? and what are their several dates ? 
 
 8. When was Kenilworth Castle erected ? and by whom ? 
 
 9. What was the Doomsday book ? and when was it completed ? 
 
 The answer to one of the riddles published two months since, as 
 most of my young friends know well enough, was a lock of hair. Was 
 it not, then, a pretty mode of sending me the solution, that of enclosing 
 a beautiful ringlet, a bona fide curl, from the brow of one of Uncle 
 Frank's little nieces ? " And who did that ?" you ask. The credit of 
 it must be divided between two sisters of the " Old Granite State" — 
 Ellen and Sarah Benton. The answer, also, of these two girls to the 
 prize charade (published, I believe, in the September number, but 
 which seems to have been generally regarded as unanswerable) is very 
 well expressed. It is as follows : 
 
 The school ma'am's rap upon our head 
 
 Somehow affects our hearing. 
 And brings to mind the "prize charade," 
 
 For both will make your ear ring. 
 
 % 
 
"T^ATR ROSAMOND'S BOWER" 
 
 A LABYRINTH — BY S. N. 
 
RALPH RATTLEHEAD. 
 
 53 
 
 RALPH RATTLEHEAD; 
 
 OR, "IT IS ONLY IN FUN." 
 
 c^'\^- 
 
 55MOXG my plnyfellows, lono; years ,12:0, wheu I went 
 
 "( to tl-.p vil!?)2^e scliool, was one who gat tlie uickiianie 
 
 j' of Ralpli Rattleliead. Tliat nickname was so c >m- 
 
 ji^ mon among the scliohirs, tliaL liis real name, which 
 
 '-,H' somewhat, resembled it in sound, was almost foru-otten ; 
 
 ^"^ and now tliat I wish to give yon a cliapter of. his advHU- 
 tures, I find it qnite im]>ossihIe, after ooveiing my eyes and leaning 
 my head upon my arm, in the deepest thought, f(;r some minutes, 
 to recall the lionest family name of that boy. ]Uit never mind. 
 We will trv and get along with the aid of the nickname alone. 
 
 Ralph Ratllehcad was biimfull of fun. lie was all the lime 
 pla\ ing his jokes u|)on some one or other of the boys and giils. 
 I used cfien to thiidc that he was a malicious chap, delighting in 
 the i>ain he so often gave by his fun. But I do not think so 
 now. Charity seems to require that I should give a softer name 
 than malice to the character that prompts one to do such things 
 as Ralph did. lie was such a great lover of fun, that when tiieie 
 was a chance for a joke, he did not stop to inquire how much that 
 joke might cost another person, lie was like the urchins who 
 pelted the frogs with stones, so as to make themselves merry with 
 the winks and dodges of those simple little creatures. These boys — 
 so the veteran spokesman of that frog family chaiitably remarked, 
 according to the fable — were bent on merry-making, and did not 
 stop to consider that what might be sport to them, was death to 
 the frogs. 
 
 1 have known R;dpli, more than once, play some trick on the 
 schoolmistress, who taught oitr scrfjool in the summer; and once, 
 I ren)ember, whtu that excellent and almost too good-natured 
 woman bad suffered bv one of his jokes, I saw her in tear^. 
 
54 
 
 RALPH RATTLEHEAD ; OR, 
 
 Ralph saw that too, and when the school was out that noon, he 
 went to the schoolmistress, and apologized for- his rpde behavior, 
 saying, as. he so often did in similar circumstances, "Oh, it was 
 only in fun." ^'^ 
 
 I have known him, too, when one of his playmates was twing, 
 with ever so much patience and industry, to build a house with 
 
 
 ITS ONLY IX FUN. 
 
 small blocks — I have known this Ralph purposely run the hoop 
 which he was rolling at the time, full tilt against the miniature 
 house, and knock it all down, saying, as he noticed the grief, per- 
 haps the anger of his playmate, "It's only in fun." It was pretty 
 dear fun to the young house-builder. 
 
 Ralph had a sister a little younger than himself. A lovely girl 
 everybody knew her to be — so amiable, so s^eet-tempered, and 
 withal of so cheerful a disposition, -that we all loved her. But Ralph 
 teased her a great deal with his expensive and ill-timed jokes. 
 Not that he ever meant to wound the fe<iings of his dear sister 
 Ruth. But he was thoughtless, culpably, cruelly thoughtless. 
 
 In the winter season, when the snow was d^ep and there was 
 fine sliding down hill near the school-house, and fine skating on 
 Captain Fish's pond, we childrea had naerry limes, I assure you. 
 Some of the most delightful sports of the whole year, were con- 
 nected with the snow. Snow-balling was capital fun, though like 
 
IT IS ONLY IN FUN." 65 
 
 all other forms of fun, it was not vinfrequently expensive. In the 
 days when I was a romping child, and in that section of the country 
 where I lived, a snow-storm was a more noteworthy affair than it 
 is now in the latilude of New York. Why, the snow used to fall 
 so deep, in'the middle of the road, that a boy, ten or a dozen years 
 old,, would sometimes plunge in it up to his ears, if he attempted 
 to go out soon after the storm, before the sleighs commenced run- 
 ning. And as to the drifts, they were pretty good substitutes for 
 mountains. I have known them repeatedly rise as high as the 
 eaves of our school-house. After a genuine, old-fashioned snow- 
 storm, all the neighbors had to turn oitt and cut a passage through 
 the heaviest drifts. 
 
 At such times as these, we boys used to account it the richest 
 possible sport, next to sliding down hill at the rate of ten knots 
 an hour, on our sleds, to dig under one of the largest d lifts, and 
 open a mine into its very bowels. One day, when we had, at a 
 great deal of pains-taking, opened such a mine in a mountain 
 drift near the school-house, Ralph took •it into his head to make 
 this mine help him in playing off one of his jokes upor iacob 
 Rawson, one of the stillest and most inoffensive boys we had in 
 our school. Ralph got Jake into the cave, by some means, and 
 made a prisoner of him, in this way : He had taken the precaution 
 to roll up a large snow-ball beforehand. This ball was lying within 
 a few feet of the mouth of the cave ; and befoi-e Jake had any idea 
 of the trick that was to be played upon him, Ralph had rolled 
 this great ball to the mouth of the cave, which was only large 
 enough for a person to enter it by crawling like a worm, and com- 
 pletely shut the poor fellow in. Not satisfied with this feat, he 
 strengthened the door, already pretty formidable, by additions of 
 snow, closely packed together. It so happened, that, at the time, 
 none of the rest of the boys saw what Ralph was about, they being 
 engMged at some other kind of sport ; and the consequence was, 
 that Ralph pieced this joke out until it became a rather serious 
 affair. When he released his prisoner, telling him, as he did so, 
 that it was " only in fun," the poor fellow had frozen one of the 
 tinoers on his rio-ht hand, and it Was a lono- time before he could 
 use. a pen or pencil. I do believe that Ralph, when he came to 
 
66 
 
 RALPH RATTLEHEAD. 
 
 be aware of the miscliief lie had done, would willingly liave suf- 
 fered himself what Jake did, if, by so doing, that fellow could 
 have liad his finger restored. But in this case, as in too many 
 others, tiie wisdom and sympathy of Ralph Rattlehead came too 
 late. 
 
 AN EXPENSIVE JOKE, 
 
 The crowning piece of fun which was accomplished by Ralph 
 was on this wise : It was late in the winter, or j^ossibly early in the 
 spring, when the ice on Captain Fish's pond, on account of a warm 
 rain, began to exiiibit some signs of weakness, tliat a large troop 
 of boys were, rather cautiously, skating there. Upon some spots 
 they did not dare venture at all, fearing that it would not bear 
 their weight. Ralph was on hand, as usual. With the assistance 
 of another boy or two, he had drawn Ruth and a younger sister 
 to the pond on his sled. 
 
 " I have a good mind to take a turn with the sled on the ice," 
 said the fun-loving fellow. 
 
 The boys tried to dissuade him from doing such a thing, and 
 Ruth begged him not to go, if there was the least danger. But 
 Ralph dashed forward upon the ice; and in a shorter time than it 
 takes me to tell of his adventure, he was on the middle of the 
 
PLEADING ON BOTH SIDES. 57 
 
 pond, with his two sisters. For a brief period, it seemed rare sport 
 to Ralpli, and he was in high glee. But his tune changed to the 
 minor mode soon, as tlie singing-master would say. Crack went 
 the ice, crack again, and again, and before the boy could escape, it 
 quite gave way, and all three of the children were struggling in 
 the deep, cold water together. Their screams brought speedy as- 
 sistance from those boys who were not encumbered with skates. 
 But alas ! so for as little Katy was concerned — dear little Katy, the 
 darling pet of the family — that assistance came too late. Ralph 
 and Paith were rescued, with difficulty. The younger sister had 
 got under the ice so far, that it was impossible to reach her until 
 she was drowned. 
 
 There is a proverb which somebody has uttered and set afloat 
 in the world, in these words : " Lose your best joke rather than 
 your worst friend." The proverb is a good one. Too many peo- 
 ple think that a joke, if they happen to have one on hand, is such 
 a capital thing that it must not be wasted ; and so they let it off, 
 hit or miss. This is about as reasonable as it would be to take a 
 pint of salts and senna, in perfect health, because it is good medi- 
 cine and it happens to be at hand in the closet. Jokes, like pow- 
 der and fire-crackers, are well enough in their place, but rather 
 dano-erous things. I don't like to see them used often. Still less 
 do I like to see one of my young friends getting into a habit of 
 playing a joke upon somebody whenever he can get a chance. I 
 know that such a person will never get along iti the world without 
 often bringing himself and others into trouble. 
 
 PLEADING ON BOTH SIDES. 
 
 One of the most celebrated members of the Paris bar was con- 
 sulted, the other day, by a young practitioner, upon an obscure 
 point of law. " I cannot give you a positive answer, young man," 
 replied the advocate ; '' I have once pleaded one way, and once 
 the other, and I gained my suit each time. 
 
 VOL. V. f * 
 
58 
 
 LOITERINGS ABOUT VERONA. 
 
 LOITERINGS ABOUT YERONA. 
 
 igM 
 
 Va 
 
 Austria. 
 
 HE city of Verona, as 1 suppose most of you know 
 already, is situated in Lombardy, one of the 
 Italian States. This section of Italy stretches to 
 the Adriatic Sea on the east, is divided from 
 Switzerland on the north by the Alps, has Piedmont on 
 the west, and the Roman States on the south. It takes in 
 Venice, and forms with it a kingdom under the rule of 
 Austria, you must know, is a sort of anaconda, swallow- 
 ing- up whole all such poor victims in her neighborhood as have 
 the misfortune to be worth anything, and to be smaller and weaker 
 than she is. Of course she swallows up all these smaller states 
 for their own good — so we are told. She is a very humane ana- 
 conda, very humane indeed. I had a long talk with an Austrian 
 officer at Verona about this government matter. He said these 
 Italians could not govern themselves — they had tried that experi- 
 ment often enough — and it was a great mercy to them that Aus- 
 tria should step in and give them good laws. " But they don't like 
 your laws," I ventured to reply. " They are very restive under 
 your rule, and frequently try to wrest your bit from their mouth." 
 He laughed. " Of course they do," said he. " But that doesn't 
 prove that they are not well governed. What people were ever 
 satisfied with their government ? It is the best they ever had, 
 though ; and but for us, they would all be together by the ears, 
 fighting like wild cats and hyenas. We govern them well. Don't 
 you see we let them do very much as they please ?" I didn't ex- 
 actly see that, and so I remarked. But it is not wise to say too 
 much about politics within hearing of the Austrian eagle, and I 
 soon allowed the conversation to take another turn. By the way, 
 if I were to act on the principle that one must speak well of a bridge 
 
LOITERINGS ABOUT VERONA. 59 
 
 that carries him safe across a stream, I should certainly bo obliged 
 to say nothing but good things of these Austrians. Among no 
 other people in Europe was I treated with more uniform courtesy. 
 An Austrian officer, in my way of thinking, is one of the most fin- 
 ished specimens of civility and politeness to be found on the con- 
 tinent. But I must not let Mazzini or Kossuth hear that. I am 
 afraid they would cast me out of their synagogue, if they should 
 hear it. 
 
 Lombardy embraces some of the finest cities in Italy. Among 
 these, Verona has a right to claim a high place. From Venice to 
 Verona, we now go by railway. I took my place in the third class 
 cars. Think of that. A republican, coming from a country where 
 every man thinks he is as good as any other man in all creation, 
 calmly taking his seat, in aristocratic Europe, in a car of the third 
 grade ! " Well, why did you choose such a seat ?" For two rea- 
 sons, if not three. The third class cars are decidedly the best for 
 seeing the country. They are covered overhead, but are entirely 
 open at the sides. The cost in these cars is a good deal less — I 
 am not ashamed to bring in that circumstance as one reason. And 
 besides this, I was anxious to retain the company of an intelligent 
 English lady with whom I had previously traveled many miles, and 
 who would neV'Cr take any other seat when one of the third class 
 was to be had. It cannot be denied, however — for there are thorns 
 connected with most of our roses in this woi-ld — that the compan- 
 ions one meets in these exceedingly democratic apartments, are not 
 always the most select and refined. The Germans, who are pro- 
 digious smokers, almost always patronize the third class. They do 
 it, I apprehend, because they consider it a great waste of time to 
 be sitting still without a pipe in their mouth. You have no idea 
 what interminable smokers they are. Their pipes seem absolutely 
 bottomless. Your out-and-out German will keep a pipe in his 
 mouth for eight hours on a stretch, and puff away, like a steam 
 engine, for a great part of the time. Each German is a Vesuvius 
 in miniature — a Vesuvius, that is, in a quiet state, with clouds of 
 smoke, but very little fire. 
 
 For the whole distance between Venice and Verona we pass 
 through vineyards, in which the vine grows most luxuriantly. It 
 
60 LOITEEENGS ABOUT VERONA. 
 
 is (rained on inulberiy-trees, nnd mH the f-inneis who cultivate the 
 grape kecj) silk-wonus too, which tliey feed tVoni these mulberry- 
 tret'S. AVe saw great numbers of chihhen, of both sexes, picking 
 the mulberry leaves, and j)lacing them in large sack-^. The peas- 
 anlry are better clad in this ])art of Italy than they are in the 
 P()])e's dominions. They do not look so much as if they were ac- 
 tually on the confines of starvation, l^egn^ars are more scarce here. 
 True, you find more or less of them in all Italy ; but you must go 
 into the Papal States, or the kingdom of Naples, if you want to 
 see wliole regiments of them. 
 
 We arrived at Verona at about eight in the evening. After sup- 
 per at a hotel \vhicli was recomjnended to us as the best in the 
 city, but which might be vastly impioved, we strolled out to the 
 amphitheatre. It was a charming night. The moon had but just 
 begun to wane, and not a single star was dimmed by a cloud. We 
 entered one of the outer doors of the ami)hitheatre, and f(Mind om- 
 selves in a vast edifice, resembling the theatres in Pompeii. It is 
 not to be compared to the Ct)liseum in size, but is a very imposing 
 edifice. It is built wholly of stone, most of the blocks of which 
 are of huge dimensions. This theatre was perhaps erected in the 
 latter part of the first century. I saw no similar building in Eu- 
 rope of so great antiquity, which was so neaijy entire. Earthquakes, 
 "which have made such havoc with theatres in Southern Italy, seem 
 not to have damaged this at all. It is built in an oval form. Its 
 greater diameter is some five hundred feet ; its shorter diameter 
 about two hundred and fifty feet. Like the structures of the same 
 kind in Pompeii, the seats are of stone, and rise at regular dis- 
 tances, one above another, almost from the level of the arena. It 
 is cai)able of holding thirty-two thousand people. The height of 
 the ontire structure is about one hundred feet. It was evidently a 
 little higher once, but some of the upper tiers of seats have been 
 removed, perhaps for building purposes. I enjoyed this moonlight 
 visit to the old theatre at Verona exceedingly. A very clear idea 
 of the arrangements of ancient amphitheatres can be obtained from 
 nn iiisjiecLi(tn of this ruin. Tlie numbers sculptured on the arches 
 of the outer circuit, to guide the spectators where to present their 
 tickets, remain in a perfectly legible condition. I ascended to 
 
LOITERIXGS ABOUT VERONA. 61 
 
 the top of the building, on a visit I paid to it afterwards, 
 by daylight, and bad a fine view of the surrounding country. 
 While standing there, a long procession, headed by the effigy of 
 some favorite saint, passed the theatre, the priests in their long 
 robes chanting the praises of the saint in loud and rather unmu- 
 sical voices. This procession in honor of deceased saints is very 
 common in Italy ; but I never got so much accustomed to the scene 
 as to be able to see it without laughter. It is extremely ludicrous. 
 The procession of the boys on Guy Fawkes' day, in England, is 
 scarcely more mirth-inspiring. Many of the priests sing like the 
 wolf in the fable. They march very fast, too, in these processions, 
 as if they were conducting an effigy of some great criminal to the 
 flames. 
 
 Shakspeare, you know, has rendered Verona famous b}' his 
 tragedy of Romeo and Juliet. Everybody, who has read the plays 
 of this great poet, wants to see the tomb of Juliet. It is very kind, 
 therefore, in the Verona people, to direct us to the exact spot where 
 the tomb is situated. I went to see it. Every other visitor to 
 Verona had done so before me. How could I do less ? I don't 
 know of a better subject on whom to practice antiquarian hoaxes 
 than I am. In the absence of any very direct and very tangible 
 proof in favor of the antiquities, I always bring to my relief the re- 
 flection, that it is at least possible that the article they show up is 
 genuine ; and that is a great comfort. I went to see the so-called 
 tomb of Juliet. It is in a garden. The material is reddish mar- 
 ble. It is of the proper proportions certainly ; " and who knows," 
 I said, " but this may be the identical sarcophagus in which that 
 heroine lay ? Who knows ?" Unfortunately for my enthusiasm, 
 echo, in the shape of an old tradition, answered, " / know." If the 
 honest truth must be told, that so-called tomb, before the English 
 and American travelers began to clamor so loudly for Juliet's grave, 
 stood in another part of the city, and was used as a wash-trough. 
 This is the same thing, by-the-bye, from which Maria Louisa broke 
 otf a piece, and which she kept as a relic of the utmost value, 
 causing it to be wrought into an elegant necklace o1 gems. 
 
 Among the forty or fifty churches in Verona, that of San Zeno 
 is perhaps, on the whole, most worthy of a visit. The saint from 
 
62 LOITERINGS ABOUT VERONA. 
 
 wliom tlie cliurch takes its name, was by birth an African. He 
 was the bishop of Verona in 362, at the time of Julian the Apos- 
 tate. He is now the patron saint of tlie city. We were shown his 
 statue. lie is sitling, rather awkwardly, in a chair, and is painted 
 almost black. He is represented in the act of blessing the people. 
 In a little chamber is a huge vase of porphyry, made from a single 
 stone, the outside diameter of which is some fourteen feet. This 
 vase, according to a foolish old legend, came from Syria, and was 
 brouo-ht by the fiend, at the command — or the request, I forget 
 which — of the bishop. It was formerly used, they tell us, for wash- 
 ing the feet of the pilgrims, before entering the sacred edifice, and 
 s'uood at the entrance. 
 
 There is a very ancient cemetery adjoining the church, which 
 contains a singular mausoleum. We descend to the bottom of it 
 by a flight of steps, when we find a sarcophagus evidently of great 
 antiquity. An inscription over it informs us that in it repose the 
 ashes of Pepin, king of Italy, who died at Milan in the year 810. 
 The sepulchre is a remarkable one, and was no doubt constructed 
 for some person of great distinction ; but the inscription bears the 
 marks of a quite recent period, and indeed we have it on pretty 
 good authority that it was put up by a priest during the last cen- 
 tury, who determined that, lather than allow the world to i)uzzle 
 its brains any longer as to the occupant, he would himself cut the 
 Gordian knot, and give the mausoleum to Pepin. Why in the 
 world did not somebody, long ago, prove it to be the tomb of the 
 Capulets, made so famous by Shakspeare ? I do not see why, by a 
 little of the legerdemain of antiquaiian criticism, this case could not 
 be made out " as clear as mud." It is too late now, I suppose, to 
 start any new theory ; else I am not sure but I would enter the 
 lists, and write for some dull Quarteily one of the most profound 
 and interminable treatises that any mortal ever slept over, to show 
 that precisely in this deep, dark cell might have taken place that 
 wholesale tragedy with which "Romeo and Juliet" closes. Reader, 
 if that day ever arrives when I have nothing else to do, then look 
 out for that profound dissertation on the Tumb of the C;ipnlets, 
 and look out, too, as the almanacs say, "about this time," for a 
 great fiuttering in the circles of the learned — among the savanSy I 
 
THE LITTLE SCOTCH WIT. 63 
 
 feel tempted to say, already catching, in advance, the spirit, and 
 consequently tlie languag-'e, of the sage critics and reviewers. The 
 astounding query, "Have we a Bourbon among us?" would, I 
 doubt not, in this event, be thrown completely into the shade, by 
 the first dash of my pen — " Has the Tomb of the Capulets been 
 found ?" 
 
 The city of Verona is divided into two portions by the river 
 Adige, which runs through it in such a hurry, that I could not help 
 thinking that it was not partial to cities, and so was trying to get 
 into the countiy again in the briefest possible space of time ; or else 
 that it lashed itself into an unnatural fury, just to show the citizens 
 what it is capable of doing, as the Yankee stage driver often urges 
 his steeds to the top of their speed when entering a village. This 
 river is crossed by four or five fine bridges. The stream is often 
 swollen to a fearful height by freshets. When the snow melts on 
 the Tyrol Alps, the Adige becomes furious, and sometimes sweeps 
 away bridges which it took long years to build. A freshet which 
 took place in the 13th century, one of the most disastrous on re- 
 cord, is commemorated by a painting in the cathedral. 
 
 In this stream, as in many others throughout Italy, you see nu- 
 merous wheels used for turning mills. The water is not raised by 
 a dam, as is the case in our country ; but a small mill, by means 
 of anchors, perhaps, is placed in the swiftest part of the stream, 
 and the wheel is turned, often rather slowly to be sure, by the nat- 
 ural force of the current. To me, it seemed a lazy mode of turning 
 mills. 
 
 THE LITTLE SCOTCH WIT. 
 
 A BOY, about eight years of age, entered a shop in Dundee, Scot- 
 land, and asked for a pound of canary seed. As he had no money 
 to pay for it, the shopkeeper, to whom the boy was well known, 
 ^vishing to ascertain whether he had been sent by his parents or 
 by any other paity, asked, " Is that seed for your mither, my man- 
 nie ?" " No," said the boy, " it's for the bird." 
 
64 
 
 I WAIT FOR THEE 
 
 I WAIT FOR THEE ! 
 
 The hearth is swept — the fire is bright, 
 
 The kettle sings for tea: 
 The cloth is spread — the lamp is light, 
 And white cakes smoke in napkins white, 
 
 And now I wait for thee. 
 
 Come, come, love, home, thy task is done ; 
 
 The clock ticks listeningly; 
 The blinds are shut, the curtain down, 
 The warm chair to the fireside drawn, 
 
 The boy is on ray knee. 
 
 Come home, love, come ; his deep, fond eye 
 
 Looks round him wistfully, 
 And when the whispering winds go by, 
 As if thy welcome step were nigh, 
 
 He crows exultingly. 
 
THE CHAMELEON AND HIS JUDGES. 65 
 
 In vain — he finds the welcome vain, 
 
 And turns his glance on mine, 
 So earnestly, that yet again 
 His form unto my heart I strain, 
 
 That glance is so like thine. 
 
 Thy task is done — we miss thee here, 
 
 Where'er thy footsteps roam, 
 No heart will spend such kindly cheer, 
 No beating heart, no listening ear, 
 
 Like those who wait thee home. 
 
 Ah, now along the crisp walk fast 
 
 That well-known step doth come; •-■'^ ' 
 
 The bolt is drawn, the gate is past, / 
 
 The babe is wild with joy at last — 
 A thousand welcomes home ! 
 
 THE CHAMELEOlSr AND HIS JUDGES. 
 
 AN OLD FABLE. 
 
 Two travelers, of conceited cast, 
 As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed, 
 And, on their way, in friendly chat. 
 Now talked of this, and then of that; 
 Discoursed awhile, 'mongst other matter. 
 Of the chameleon's form and nature : 
 " A stranger animal," cries one, 
 " Sure never lived beneath the sun ; 
 A lizard's body, lean and long; 
 A fish's head ; a serpent's tongue ; 
 Its tooth with triple claw disjoined. 
 And what a length of tail behind! 
 How slow its pace ! and then its hue — 
 Who ever saw so fine a blue?" 
 "Hold there," the other quick replies: 
 " 'Tis green — I saw it with these eyes, 
 As late with open mouth it lay. 
 And warmed it in the sunny ray; 
 
66 THE CHAMELEON AND HIS JUDGES. 
 
 Stretched at its ease, the beast I viewed, 
 
 And saw it eat the air for food." 
 
 "I've seen it, !^ir, as well as you, 
 
 And must again affirm it blue; 
 
 At leisure I the beast surveyed, 
 
 Extended in the cooling shade." 
 
 " 'Tis green, 'tis green, sir! I assure ye." 
 
 " Green !" cries the other, in a fury, 
 
 "Why, sir; d'ye think I've lost my eyes?'* 
 
 " 'Twere no great loss," the friend replies: 
 
 "For, if they always .serve you thus, 
 
 You'll find them but of little use." 
 
 So high, at last, the contest rose. 
 
 From words they almost came to blows : 
 
 When, luckily, came by a tiiird. — 
 
 To him the question they referred. 
 
 And begged he'd tell them, if he knew, 
 
 Whether the thing was green or blue? 
 
 " Sirs," cries the umpire, "cease your pother — 
 
 "The creature's neither one nor t'other; 
 
 I caught the animal last night. 
 
 And viewed it o'er by cnndle-light ; 
 
 I marked it well — 'twas black as jet : 
 
 You stare ; but, sirs, I've got it yet. 
 
 And can produce it." — " Pray, sir, do ; 
 
 I'll lay my life the thing is blue." 
 
 " And I'll engage, that when you've seen 
 
 The reptile, you'll pronounce him green." 
 
 " Well, then, at once to ease the doubt," 
 
 Replies the man, " I'll turn him out ; 
 
 And, when before your eyes I've set him, 
 
 If you don't find him black. I'll eat him." 
 
 He said — then full before their sight 
 
 Produced the beast, and lo ! 'twas white ! 
 
 Both stared ; the man looked wondrous wise. 
 
 " My children," the chameleon cries, 
 
 (Then first the creature found a tongue,) 
 
 "You all are right, and all are wrong; 
 
 When next you talk of what you view, 
 
 Think others see as well as you; 
 
 Nor wonder, if you find that none 
 
 Prefers your eye-sight to his own." 
 
THE INDIANS' BONES. 
 
 67 
 
 THE INDIANS' BONES. 
 
 lEDNESDAY aftemooii ! Iloorali !" sliouted Char- 
 ^il| lie, rusliing in to dinner before the town clock 
 
 was fairly on the last stroke of twelve. 
 Wednesday afternoon. Mother, what would you do 
 this afternoon, now say, if you were I ?" 
 
 " Well, Charlie, if I were you, I think I should eat my 
 dinner the first thing. And as there is plenty of time, 
 I don't think I would swallow moi'C than half of a potato at once. 
 Yow will not enjoy play quite so well, if your dinner is not well 
 iigested." 
 
 ' Well, I'll try to eat slow," said Charlie, as the other half of 
 the potato suddenly disappeared. " Oh, I forgot ! Well, I sent 
 that mouthful down with a search-warrant for the other ; and an 
 ofiicer with a search-warrant is always in a hurry, you know. But 
 say, mother, would you go a ' tom-codding ?'" 
 
 " No, Charlie, / wouldn't. The poor little ' tora-cods,' as you 
 call them, are not large enough to be cooked ; and I don't think 
 that my boy would be any happier for putting an end to the life 
 of a well-behaved little fish." 
 
 " Well-behaved ! Ah, mother, I don't think they are — to come 
 right up into the sloughs where we boys go to play, and tempt us 
 to be so cruel as to catch them with our strings and bent pins. 
 0, I know where I'm going I Guess — won't you ? Down to see 
 the Indian bones." 
 
 " Indian bones ? where V 
 
 " Oh ! down by Mr. Stone's new house. Teddy Mooney's father 
 works down there, you know, digging. Well, he was digging some 
 post-holes, and all of a sudden he shoveled up a lot of yellow- 
 looking bones. Well, then they thought somebody was biried 
 
68 THE INDIANS' BONES. A 
 
 there, and "went to dig right straight along; whe^, what do you 
 think ? a whole lot of bones came tumbling down^over them. 
 Teddy's father called out ' Whoa !' and then blessed himself; but 
 that didn't do any good, did it? But you see their falling down 
 shows that they were Indians, because they were always buried sit- 
 ting," said Charlie, with the air of one who settles a disputed fact ; 
 and he added, " They had their heads turned to the east, too." 
 
 " Well, my son, when you have seen them, tell me whose you 
 think they were." 
 
 Charlie went, with two little cousins ; and when they got there, 
 they found some other boys standing round the hole into which 
 the bones had been thrown. 
 
 George Lansing was holding up a fragment of the jaw, in which 
 several teeth remained, in hideous perfection. 
 
 " Say, boys," he shouted, " don't those teeth look as though they 
 were used for eating white folks ? This is the finest specimen of 
 the lot, and I'm going to carry it liome, and put it on our parlor 
 mantel-piece. Mother likes curiosities." 
 
 Charlie thought that his mother wouldn't like to see that savage- 
 looking jaw on her mantel-piece. He said : 
 
 " I guess they didn't eat white folks, though. The North Ameri- 
 can Indians were not cannibals." 
 
 " Maybe they were omniverous. Sir Charlie ; and if they ate 
 everything, they might eat a white pappoose, like you, once in a 
 while. But who knows that it wasn't King Philip, or Massasoit, 
 or some such famous red-skin ?" said George. 
 
 " Pshaw !" replied Charlie, " Mother says all school-hoys are om- 
 niverous, but they are not cannibals. And as to its being King 
 Philip or Massasoit, I guess neither of them was ever within a hun- 
 dred miles of this town. Mount Hope is a good ways off, and 
 Plymouth — " 
 
 " Well done, Mr. Professor !" shouted the boys, each brandishing 
 a bone, " now prove that it wasn't Red Jacket — " 
 
 " Nor the Indian that said ' O wanux' to the Pilgrims — " 
 
 " Nor the witch Tituba— " 
 
 "Nor Pocahontas' grandfather 1" 
 
 And they dispersed. 
 
 1 
 
A HEN STORY. G9 
 
 - ... * 
 
 Charlie was somewliat vexed tliat the boys sliouU not appreciate 
 liis efturts to enlighten them, but'^e soon .'goVover it, and walked 
 homeward along the silent beach, musing thus : 
 
 " Who were they ? If that broken jaw could speak, it might 
 liave told me some nice stories about Roger Conant, Governor 
 Euflicott, or the Lady Arabella, for they lived close by. Well, after 
 all, I shall have to go home and ask mother to help me guess about 
 these Indians' bones." aunt lucy. 
 
 A HEN STOKY. 
 
 ABOUT the first of December last, one of my hens, who had 
 "stolen her nest," hatched a brood of nine chickens, and as 
 they made their appearance so late in the season, it was thouoht 
 they had a cheerless prospect before them, and if any of them 
 survived the winter, it would be at the sacrifice of sundry toes. 
 But they had the run of an empty barn, with the rest of the fowls, 
 some thirty in number, and it was observed that one of the 
 " roosters" very complacently assisted dame Partlet in caring for 
 her little family ; and, as every husband should be, was the prin- 
 cipal purveyor for the little ones ; but, after a few days, he retired 
 from his new vocation, and his place was immediately supplied by 
 a hen, whose incessant care of her sister's chickens was only 
 rivaled by the veiitable mother herself. A friend, wanting some 
 of my hens about this time, 1 included in the number I sent him 
 the volunteer mother, as I thought one hen was able to take care 
 of H brood of nine chickens; but it a])peared 1 was out there, at 
 least in the judgment of the hens ; for no sooner had the afore- 
 said sM|)ernumerary nurse made her exit, then there came forward 
 aiiollier hen to supply her place, and both hens took mutual 
 charge of their little family, in perfect harmony, during the day, 
 a)id at night sat close togetln-r, wiih the chickens undei' their 
 wings. So says one of our Yankee farmers. 
 
70 
 
 THE ISLAND OF MALTA. 
 
 THE.ISLAND'OF MALTA. 
 
 MONG the islands of the Mediterra- 
 nean, none are more important than 
 Malta, with an area of only ninety- 
 eight square miles. Indeed, on sev- 
 eral accounts, it has long had a de- 
 gree of celebrity and power greater, 
 perhaps, than has ever been attached to any other territory of no 
 greater extent. It was formerly called Melita. You will remember 
 the account of Paul's visit to it, recorded in the Acts of the Apos- 
 tles. It was here that the poisonous viper fastened on his hand, 
 the superstitious natives first contending stoutly that he must be 
 a very bad man, or the viper would not take such a liberty with 
 him, and afterwards, when they perceived that he escaped unharm- 
 ed, taking the opposite ground, and insisting that he was a god. 
 The island lies south of Sicily some sixty miles. It is now under 
 the British Government. Besides the natives, the population is 
 
 I 
 
THE ISLAND OF MALTA. 71 
 
 made up of English, Jews, Greeks, Turks, Egyptians, Italians, 
 French, and Dutch. The Maltese, English, and Italian, are the 
 prominent languages. On the south-west, the land rises very 
 abruptly more than twelve hundred feet, while on the north-east it 
 is low. There is but one small stream on the island, which is con- 
 ducted, by an aqueduct of several thousand arches, and eight miles 
 long, to Valetta. This city is the capital of the island, and has 
 one of the best ports in the Mediterranean, it being capable of con- 
 taining more than five hundred vessels. The climate is hot, but 
 the severity of the heat is much relieved by the seS, breezes, which 
 almost always set in at night. The principal productions are cot- 
 ton, oranges, figs, and melons. 
 
 The Maltese are of African origin, with a sw^arthy skin, and hair 
 similar to that of the African race among us. They are spoken of — let 
 us hope unjustly — as ignorant, superstitious, dishonest, and revenge- 
 ful. The upper classes generally speak Italian ; but the language of 
 the common people is a patois compounded of several dialects. 
 
 Valetta, the capital, is represented in the engraving. It was 
 founded, in 1566, by Lavalette, grand master of the Knights of 
 Malta, sometimes called the Knights of St. John. This order was 
 established as early as the period of the commencement of the 
 crusades to the Holy Land. This city is remarkable for the mag- 
 nificence of its buildings, as well as the strength of its fortifications. 
 The church of St. John, the patron of the order, is a noble building, 
 which once contained great riches. The palace of the grand mas- 
 ter is an extensive pile, and contains a splendid armory of ancient 
 and modern weapons. The hospital, once under the care of the 
 knights, is a large edifice, capable of containing two thousand pa- 
 tients. The vessels used in the hospital service were of solid silver. 
 Immense granaries, cut out of the rock, were formerly stored with 
 provision sufficient to sustain the garrison for twenty years. The 
 fortifications are said to be the strongest in the world. The ditches 
 are in some places ninety feet deep, hewn out of the rock, and the 
 ramparts are mostly formed in the same manner. 
 
 Malta was at an early period in the hands of the Carthaginians, 
 who were succeeded by the Romans. It was occupied, in the 
 middle ages, by the Saracens and the Normans, and in 1530, was 
 
72 DEAN SWIFT AND HIS PRINTER. 
 
 conferred by the Emperor Cliailes V. on the Knifrhts of St. John, 
 l)V whoni, us ah-eady stated, it was extensively fortified. 
 
 In 1798, Napoleon took possession of it, on his way to Egypt. 
 Yon may be sure the French plundered the churches and the hos- 
 ])ital thoroughly enough. They took good care tliat the patron 
 saint of the island should no longer have the trouble of keeping 
 that large treasure in the churcli at Valetta. In 1800, the Fiench 
 garrison yielded to the British. In 1814, the possession of it was 
 confirmed to this nation by the treaty of Paris. The present popu- 
 lation of the island is not far from 103,000. 
 
 DEAN SWIFT AND HIS PRINTER. 
 
 DEAN SWIFT was a great enemy to extravagance in dress. Of 
 his mode of reproving this folly in those persons for wh(»m he 
 had any esteem, the following instance lias been recorded. When 
 George Faulkner, the printer, returned from London, where he had 
 liecn soliciting subscriptions for his edition of the Dean's works, he 
 went to pay his respects to liim, dressed in a laced waistcoat, a bag- 
 wig, and other foppeiies. Swift recf^ived him with the same cere- 
 mony as if he had been a stranger. "Ami pray, sir," said he, 
 " what are your commands with me?" "I thought it was my 
 duty, sir," replied George, " to wait upon you immediately nj)on 
 my arrival from London." " Pray sir, who are you ?" " George 
 Faulkner, the printer, sir." " You George Faulkner, the jninter ? 
 Why you are the most impudent, barefaced scoundrel of an iujpos- 
 ter I ever met with ! George Faulkner is a plain, sober citizen, and 
 would never trick himself out in lace and other fopperies. Get you 
 gone, you rascal, or I will immediately send you to the house of 
 correction." Away went George as fast as lie couKl, and having 
 changed his dress, returned to the deanery, where he was receivt-d 
 with the greatest cordiality. " My friend George," said the <lean, 
 " 1 am glad to see you returned safe from London. Why, here 
 has been an impudent fellow just now, dressed in a laceil waistcoat, 
 and he would fain pass iiimself utt" for you, but 1 soon, seut him oil 
 with a flea in his ear." 
 
BLESSING OF THE WATERS. 
 
 78 
 
 BLE33I]S^G OF THE WATERS. 
 
 
 TAKE the following interesting- account of a religious 
 ceremony in Russia from a work entitled " The City 
 of the Czar :" 
 
 On the 18th of January, which is the Russian 
 Twelfth-day, a religious ceremony takes place on the Neva, 
 which I believe has no parallel in any other country, nidess 
 we adduce the now obsolete custom at Venice of the Doge 
 ;ing the sea. This ceremony is oalled the blessing of the 
 waters; and the obj^-ct is, that the river Neva may, by the prayers 
 of the nation, be rendered propitious to the navigation, and all other 
 purposes to which rivers may be ajiplieable in the neighborhood of 
 a great and dirty ca|)ital. The whole population of St. Petersburgh 
 and the environs is collected on the quays to witness this solemn 
 invocation. An octagon temple, formed of w^ooden trellis-work, 
 adorned with pictures, gilded cherubs, and other religious emblems, 
 is erected on the ice opposite to the winter palace. There are 
 four entrances to this pavihon, which is approached from the shore 
 by a wooden communication built on massive piles ; that which 
 faces the palace is decorated with a picture representmg the bap- 
 tism of our Saviour in the river Jordan. In the centre of this 
 building is dug a large hole in the ice, which, at this season of 
 the year, is generally four or five feet in depth ; as, with some ap- 
 pearance of inconsistency, the nation has singled out thi-s period 
 for blessing the waters, when the climate has rendered them com- 
 pletely invisible. Over this aperture is suspended, from the dome 
 above, the figure of a dove. In the morning, the emperor, empress, 
 and imperial family, with the court, assist at divine service in the 
 chapel, at which the metropolitan archbishop, with the principal 
 clergy, preside; this service lasts from 11 till 12 o'clock. At 
 that hour the procession issues from the palace ; in front appears 
 a priest bearing a lantern ; then others with a cross, banners, and 
 
 VOL. V. 4 WY 
 
74 DEBT AND CREDIT. 
 
 holy images ; the court choristers precede the archbishop and 
 clergy, who are arrayed in gorgeous vestments, with flowing beards ; 
 then comes the pages and subalterns, bearing the colors of the 
 different regiments of guards ; last of all the emperor, followed by 
 the grand-dukes, and escorted by the great officers of state, his 
 military staff', generals, and courtiers, all bareheaded, and appar- 
 ently impressed with the solemnity of the scene. As soon as the 
 emperor has taken his position at one of the doors of the pavilion, 
 the bishop recites the prayers, and the choristers sing the responses ; 
 the blessing is performed by plunging a silver cross in the waters, 
 of which a vase is presented to his majesty. A signal rocket an- 
 nounces the conclusion of the ceremony, and the cannon from the 
 fortress again announces to the cives the blessing of the most un- 
 wholesome waters in all Christendom. The empress and her court 
 are seated at the windows of the palace ; the foreign ministers, 
 &c., view the procession from those of the Hermitage, which com- 
 mand the quays ; but, as the ceremony itself lasts for nearly 
 twenty-five minutes, it must be a severe trial for the emperor and 
 his suite to remain so long uncovered in this piercing climate. As 
 soon as the actors in this curious scene liave retired, there is a 
 general rush of the common people towards the temple ; mothers 
 are seen plunging their infants into the sacred opening which luis 
 been made in the river, while various individuals fill their pitchers 
 with the holy water, and carry it home to their families, undaunted 
 by the severe cold which freezes it during their walk. On the same 
 day, at Constantinople, the Greek patriarch performs a like cere- 
 mony. He throws the cross into the sea ; and it is asseited that 
 skillful divers eagerly await the operation, and generally succeed in 
 seizing it before it reaches the bottom. 
 
 I 
 
 DEBT AND CREDIT. 
 
 It is not a little singular, that the letters that spell debt, are the 
 initials of the sentence, '' Dim Every Body Twice ;" and the letters 
 which spell credit, are the initials of the sentence, " Call Kegularly 
 Every Dav— I'll Trust." 
 
ALPHONSO, THE RUNAWAY. 
 
 75 
 
 ALPHONSO, THE EUITAWAY. 
 
 BY Mas. J. H. HAXAFORD. 
 
 One bright morning in September a benevolent lawyer entered 
 the Court House of his native city, in order to listen to the trials 
 of several persons who had been brought before the Mayor on the 
 charge of having, on the previous evening, robbed the house of a 
 wealthy gentleman residing in the neighboring town. Among the 
 prisoners, the lawyer noticed a lad of some seventeen years, who 
 appeared in great distress, weeping bitterly, wringing his hands, 
 and often uttering exclamations in a low voice. Curiosity to know 
 what he was saying, induced the lawyer to approach the lad, and 
 he found that he continually repeated, " My mother ! my#mother!" 
 Convinced that one who then thought of his mother could not be 
 hardened in crime, he addressed the lad in kind accents: 
 
 " Have you a mother living, my lad ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, I hope so, sir," was the r ^ply ; " but if she knew I was 
 here, as a prisoner, oh how her heart would ache !" 
 
76 ALPHONSO, THE RUNAWAY. 
 
 "Tlieii she is a good woman ?" pursue*! the lawyer. 
 
 "Oh yes, slie taught me from the Bible that if I were wicked, 
 like Jacob's sons, I should bring her 'gray hairs in sorrow to the 
 grave,' and I fear I shall. Oh my mother ! my mother !" 
 
 The lawyer felt a deep interest in the lad, and, on fuither in- 
 quiry, found that he v;as a ruffaway from his pleasant country 
 home, because he was tired of being on a farm, and wished to see 
 more of the world, and perhaps be a sailor and visit distant lands. 
 On arriving in the city, with no friend to warn him ngainst vicious 
 associates, he accepted the company of the first who sonoht his 
 acquaintance, and who proved to be house-breakers, who were 
 looking for a lad to aid them in some of their evil sihemes, and 
 selected him because he looked like a country boy, who knew not 
 enough of city life to betray iheni. And when they found he was 
 a runaway, with no money and only a little bundle ttf clothes, they 
 dared to treat him shamefully, and compelled him to aid tlifui in 
 entering the house which the}', robbed, knowing that l^*• had no 
 friends near to rescue him from theii- poifer. With great reluctance 
 he obeyed them, and at last found himself arrested by the ])oIicf, 
 and, with his wicked companions, was now to be tried as a thi»'f. 
 The thouirht of the distress his mother would feel, if she knew the 
 disgrace which was the sad consequence of her son's running away, 
 was harder to him than the long imprisoimient which he had rea 
 son to expect. The lawyer pitied him, and perceiving that he 
 was innocent of the intent to steal, plead his cause so successfully 
 that he was acquitted, while all the rest were condemned to the 
 State's Prison, lie then aided Lim to return to his home, ;md 
 Alphonso, the runaway, bade him farewell, wiili the words, '' Sir, 
 I shall remember you with gratitude as long as I live, and will 
 never be a runaway again. I shall tell all to my mother, and she 
 will pray for you, that no son of yours may bring your ' gray 
 hairs with sorrow to the grave.' And I will warn my young ac- 
 quaintances from my evil course, and teach them that the [)alh 
 of duly is the only path of peace and happiness." 
 
THE LAST MUSQUITO. 
 
 77 
 
 THE LAST MUSQUITO. 
 
 J NDULGE me a moment, reader, while I hold up to your 
 I ,,:| vision a picture of the last musquito. You have heai d 
 of the " hist of the Mohicans." Walter Scott ha^ made 
 ', "^-.^ you familiar enono-h with the "last Vich Ihan Vohr." 
 
 J^\ You have read, sung, perhaps cried over, the "last liidc." 
 /^ ' Doubtless you have treated " the last rose of summer" in 
 the same way ; and the " lay of the last minstrel" you have 
 almost got by heart. Why, then, should you not accord a little 
 civility to the last of a race of minstrels who have serenaded you 
 in the night watches for a whole summer and three quarters of 
 an autumn — who have flitted, sylph-like, about your pillow, on un- 
 wearied wing, from the evening twilight until the dawn of the 
 morning, and who — but I will pause here, lest I draw tears from 
 your eyes, while I am drawing a picture for them to look at ; and 
 instead of pleading for your sympathy in behalf of the musquito 
 race in general, I will ask you to look at a single individual of his 
 species — the last musquito. 
 
 One night in November, at a somewhat later hour than usual, 
 quite tiled out with my day's labors, I threw myself upon my bej 
 to lest. It was a beautiful night. The air was mild. The skj 
 was unclouded. The moon, then nearly at its full, lighted up 
 landscape on the banks of the noble Hudson, which some enthu- 
 siasts might have crossed the ocean to gaze upon, but which I saw 
 without leaving my room. Everything around me was still. Even 
 Beau Nash, who, doubtless mistaking the deep moonlight for the 
 early rays of the sun, had crowed two or three times, very loudly, 
 a half hour before, had relapsed into silence, a little ashamed of 
 his blunder. The dogs had all got tired of " baying the moon," 
 having settled down into the comfortable conviction, that thoni;li 
 the baying was tolerable good sport, it would hardly pay to split 
 their throats. Philosophical dogs, were they not? The crickots 
 
'^^8 THE LAST MUSQUITO. 
 
 under tlie hearth — thoug-h, by the way, when I come to think of 
 it, I have no hearth, and of course I mean the crickets under the 
 hearth that I might, could, would, or should have liad — were as 
 silent as the grave. There is something in the hush of night 
 almost painful to me. The ear listens anxiously to catch some 
 sound, as an evidence that all the world is not dead. While lis- 
 tening thus for a moment, before closing and barring the doors 
 of the mind for the night, a voice that seemed familiar met my 
 ear. It was as ftiint as the last note of the zephyr playing over 
 the strings of an ^olian harp. Nearer and nearer the sound 
 came, until the wing of the minstrel brushed my cheek. Reader, 
 it was a musquito — the last knight of the long spear. His voice 
 was clear and distinct, but more languid than the ordinary tone 
 of the music of his race, and I thought the pitch was more uni- 
 formly /a/ic^/c). Certain it is, that the mode of the air was minor 
 throughout. It had a truly funereal tone. With the notes of the 
 musquito still falling on my ear, a mistiness came over my vision, 
 and a sort of clairvoyance seemed to succeed, pending which my 
 little songster and I got quite cosy with each other. I might have 
 said to the fellow, I suppose, with as much propriety as Hamlet 
 showed in the matter of his fancied visitant, 
 
 "Thou coma't in aucb a questionable shape, 
 That I will speak to •thee." 
 
 But I did say no such thing. Nor did I take on as a certain Poe-i 
 once did, when he heard a scratching in his bed-room, over his 
 " chamber-door," if I recollect aright. I was silent, wliile the mus- 
 quito spoke, or seemed to speak, in words like these : 
 
 "I am about to die. I have survived all my race. You behold 
 before you the last musquito. I come to sing my last song. You 
 perceive that, like the swan, my last notes are the sweetest. I de- 
 sire to die in peace with all mankind. There is something lies 
 heavy on my conscience. I have been a bloody musquito. I have 
 led a freebooting life. More than once have I disturbed your peace- 
 ful dreams. I have thrust my poisoned lance into your veins, and 
 drank your blood. I have been more cruel than Nero. That mon- 
 ster waxed musical over a burning city. I hav^e suno^ joyfully over 
 
THE LAST MUSQUITO. 79 
 
 scenes of human torture. Xapoleon himself could scarcely have 
 been happier in aggrandizing his own name, at the expense of 
 the death of two or three millions of men, than I have been in my 
 work of carnage. Oh, what a great sinner I have been all my life 
 long. But now, as I draw near the grave, my sins stare me in the 
 face, and the big drops of anguish, as you see, roll down my cheeks. 
 Pardon, dear sir, pardon a poor, dying musquito, who now sin- 
 cerely repents of all his sins, and aims to die in peace." 
 
 I was about to reply to this touching harangue, in a not veiy 
 amiable mood, recollecting, as I did, the cruel way in which I had 
 been treated by his musquitoship, when a solitary fly, who had 
 overheard these words, saved me the trouble by himself addressing 
 the dying freebooter. 
 
 " You little, mean, sniveling varlet !" said he, rather too artly, 
 I thought, " I hope you've got breath enough left in your body to 
 listen a minute to a bit of comfort from a poor fly. Please don't 
 die quite yet, until you hear my speech. A pretty chap you are, to 
 come here with your repentance at this late day, with one foot in 
 the grave, and the rest used up with palsy. You whining hypo- 
 ciite 1 I'll strip the mask from your face, at all events, before you 
 quit the world. What did you alight on that man's nose for a 
 moment ago ? Ah, you may well cover up your face. You dare 
 not deny that you came on purpose to take a last sip of his 
 blood. But finding you hadn't strength enough left to tap his 
 veins, you gave up that job, and turned saint all at once. What 
 a precious piece of penitence. You have been a 'gi-eat sinner,' 
 you tell us. Ha! ha! The 'ruling passion strong in death.' 
 Your very last words are lies. A great sinner, forsooth ! Why 
 you are the smallest, paltriest specimen of a sinner that ever went 
 unhung in the world. Then as to the big drops of grief that 
 you are so pious as to shed. You little liar ! The point of a 
 needle would hold fifty such drops. Besides, you cried and took 
 on in that style, because you had lost the power to suck human 
 blood — nothino- else in the world. Alexander shed crocodile tears 
 because there was not another human race that he could try his 
 sword upon. Your whining came from a slightly diff"erent cause. 
 Those ' big tears' that you bragged about, were shed, not because 
 
80 A FEARLESS BOY. 
 
 you wanted the victims, but because you couldn't get the sword. 
 You know as well as I do, that if you could grow young again, by 
 some juggler's trick, you would be just such a sinner as you al- 
 Avays have been. O you little hypocrite ! I'm sorry enough you 
 can't live a minute longer, only a minute, just to hear the winding- 
 up of my sermon. It would comfort your little heart so much !" 
 
 The last musquito was dead; and the fly set up such a buzz 
 of joy, that it awoke me. 
 
 " Ah, you had been dreaming, then ?" 
 
 Yes, dieaming, dreaming tolerably wide awake a part of the 
 time, if the truth must come out, though the advent of the No- 
 vember musquito is no fable. But, reader, can't you pick a whole- 
 some lesson out of the threads of ray dream? 
 
 A FEARLESS BOY. 
 
 A VESSEL was overtaken with a terrific hurricane in the middle 
 of the Atlantic Ocean. After the most astonishing efforts to 
 weather the storm, the awful intelligence of the captain broke on 
 the ear of the passengers, " The ship is on her beam ends; she will 
 never right again ; death is certain." 
 
 " Not at all, sir ! not at all, sir !" exclaimed a little sailor boy, 
 "God will save us yet." 
 
 "Why do you think so ?" said the captain, with strong feeling 
 and astonishment. 
 
 " Because, sir, at this moment they are praying under the Bethel 
 flag, in the city of Glasgow, for all sailors in distress, and us among 
 the rest ; and God will hear their prayers ; now see if he don't.^^ 
 
 The captain, an old weather-beaten tar, exclaimed, with the tears 
 running down his cheeks, " God grant that their prayers may be 
 heard in our behalf, my little preacher !" 
 
 At that moment a great wave struck the ship, and righted her. 
 A simultaneous shout of exultation, gratitude, and praise, louder 
 than the storm, went up to God. A few days after the uoble ship 
 rode safely into New York harbor. 
 
^U^cd ^/oy^^ iiT^^^^^^g^ge 
 
GENERAL AVEZZANA. 
 
 83 
 
 I 
 
 GENERAL AYEZZANA. 
 
 EiNG a plain citizen, and unused to mingle much 
 l^^' in the political world, it is hardly proper, I sup- 
 
 pose, for me to dip very deeply into politics. But 
 one cannot help having an opinion of his own about 
 matters and things. At all events, I have such an 
 opinion, and I cannot well get rid of it. When I look 
 / at the different nations of the world, and perceive how 
 they are governed and misgoverned, I cannot avoid having my 
 own notions about these governments and misgovernments. Well, 
 among the political notions I have, is this : that the Italian States 
 are very badly governed, and that that portion of Italy which the 
 Pope pretends to own, is the worst governed of the whole. I do 
 not, however, jump to the conclusion that the revolutions of 1848 
 and 1849, if they had been successful, would all have been just 
 the thing. It seems, to be sure, a great pity that the French did 
 not let Rome alone long enough to give the Republicans time to 
 try their experiment. Some of the men who were foremost in 
 ovei-thrownng the Roman government for the time being, and es- 
 tablishing republicanism, were certainly no ordinar}^ characters. 
 They had no common minds. Take Avezzana, for instance. He 
 was a noble commander, and, for aught that appears to the con- 
 trary, a genuine patriot. 
 
 Guiseppe Avezzana was born in Piedmont. While a young man, 
 in 1824, he took up arms, at the head of "the students of Alexan- 
 dria, to commence the revolution there, when an Austiian army 
 had gone to fight the Liberals in Naples. He next fought for the 
 constitution in Spain, and afterwards went to Mexico. The Spanish 
 language is so much like the Italian, that the Italians learn to 
 speak it much sooner than English. He had be^n in Mexico but 
 a short time, when the Spanish army arrived, to re-conquer that 
 country ; but the people repulsed them ; and Avezzana fought so 
 
84 THE FIRST SAW-MILL. 
 
 well against the invaders, that he was made a General. He spent 
 some years in New York ; and in 1848 went to Italy, where he 
 signalized himself at Genoa and Rome. 
 
 Much is said of the courage and skill of the ancient Romans, in 
 the histories which are read by our young people; but they will 
 find, in the history of the Roman Republic of 1849, accounts of a 
 noble struggle for higher principles, and conducted with a more 
 achnirable spirit. The object of the patriots was to support the 
 freedom which they had established, and which the Pope wished 
 to overthrow. He had called for a French army, which bombarded 
 Rome, killed many people, injured the ancient monuments and fine 
 pictures, and finally prevailed and restored the old tyranny. 
 
 THE FIRST SAW-MILL. 
 
 THE old practice in making boards was to split up the logs with 
 wedges ; and inconvenient as the practice was, it was no easy 
 thing to persuade the world that it could be done in a better way. 
 Saw-mills were first used in Europe in the loth century ; but, so 
 late as 1555, an English ambassador, having seen a saw-mill in 
 France, thought it a novelty which deserved a particular descrip- 
 tion. It is amusing to see how the aversion to labor-saving ma- 
 chinery has always agitated England. The first saw-mill was es- 
 tablished by a Dutchman, in 1663 ; but the pubHc outcry agaijist 
 the new-fangled machine was so violent, that the proprietor was 
 forced to decamp with more expedition than ever a Dutchman did 
 before. The evil was thus kept out of England for several years, 
 or rather generations; but, in 1768, an unlucky timber merchant, 
 hoping that after so long a time the public would be less watchful 
 of its own interest, made a rash attemj^t to construct another mill. 
 The guardians of the public welfare, however, were on the alert, 
 and a conscientious mob at once collected and pulled the mill to 
 pieces. Such patriotic spirit could not always last, and now, 
 though we have nowhere seen, the fact distinctly stated, there is 
 .•reason to believe that saw-mills are used in England. 
 
THE DISCONTENTED WEATHERCOCK. 
 
 85 
 
 THE DISCOISTEXTED WEATHERCOCK. 
 
 WEATHERCOCK that had, for I know not how long, 
 swung backwards and forwards on a tall pole near 
 an old country house, became, at last, strangely dis- 
 r-^-' contented with its lot. How it came about it is 
 impossible for me to say ; but so it was, that to itself it 
 ^^ expressed a distinct opinion that it was created for some- 
 thing better than to twist and turn every day, and all day long, 
 just to let countiy folks know which way the wind blew. 
 
 " AYhat a life," said our weathercock, " do I lead ! creak — creak — 
 ci'eak, all day, and all night too — never enjoying a moment's re- 
 pose save at the pleasure of these good-for-nothing breezes, that are 
 nearly always blowing about me, and that make a point of taking 
 both their rest and exercise at such times as are least agreeable to 
 me. 1 do believe they change about to all the points of the com- 
 pass for no other reason than to tease and thwart me. In the sum- 
 mer, when I was languid, and suffering because I could not get 
 change of air, (which the odious way in which I am fixed up here 
 renders impossible,) the slightest puff, even an east wind, would 
 have been a real comfort to me ; but it was not to be had. Now, 
 this blessed New Year's day, for a whole week I have been kept in 
 such a constant state of agitation, and spun round so often, that I 
 declare I am quite giddy. There are Hobnail and Cabbagestalk 
 coming every morning to look at me, without, apparently, a single 
 thought about the unpleasantness of my position. How would 
 they like it, I wonder ! Only give them a week of it, and 1-11 en- 
 gage they would be more thankful to get back again to their plough 
 and spade than ever they were to throw them down after a hard 
 day's work. To think of mi/ abilities being wasted up here I 
 
86 THE discoin'tented weathercock. 
 
 Why, if I were only loose, I am sure I could fly as well as a bird. 
 How I would astonish the people ! I should fly right over the 
 house, and then to the church steeple, like the rooks — and look 
 much handsomer than they, too, for their black jackets can't be 
 compared to my gilded sides. They look well enough even here, 
 when the sun shines upon them; bat fluttering through the air — 
 O that would be beautiful ! Flying, I am sure, is the easiest thing ' 
 in the world. And then, traveling does so improve the mind and 
 manners ! I am a complete rustic — nay, a clown — with having 
 spent all my life in this out-of-the-way place." 
 
 And with that, the weathercock gave itself a good twitch. But 
 that had only the effect of making it spin round ; and it was as far 
 off flying as ever. Then it tried turning obstinate, and for three 
 days contrived not to move an inch, though there was so brisk a 
 gale blowing that, being washrng-day, more garments than I can 
 mention were blown off the clothes-line, and carried away to — Jer- 
 icho, I suppose, for they never came back again. 
 
 But Hobnail got a tall ladder, and set it up against the tall pole, 
 and climbing very clumsily to the top, he gave the weathercock 
 such an oiling, that it could not, for the life of it, stand still a mo- 
 ment, but went on, trembling and shaking like an aspen leaf. 
 
 However, at last, I believe it managed to wriggle out some of its 
 fastenings; for one day, when it was fretting and grumbling as 
 usual, jerking and twitching itself like a petulant child, and saying, 
 " If I was only loose," — sough^ came a gust of wind, that in a 
 thrice whisked it otf the pole, and up into the air in a most grati- 
 fying manner. 
 
 " Here goes for the steeple !" exclaimed the weathercock, exult- 
 ingly. But alas ! its upward flight was but for an instant. The 
 next moment, do\Nn it came clattering in the court-yard ! 
 
 All bent and dirty, the stable boy found it next morning, and 
 gave it a kick, which was not very agreeable to its feelings. How- 
 ever he picked it up. It next received a severe discipline at the 
 hands of a blacksmith, who beat it straight upon his anvil ; but it 
 got no more gilding. And finally. Hobnail climbed again clum- 
 sily up the tall ladder, and fixed it in its old place, just over the 
 ofljces at the back of that old, old country house. 
 
WHY IS THE SEA SALT ? 
 
 87 
 
 WHY IS THE SEA SALT ? 
 
 THAT is a question which is very easy to ask, but not quite so easy 
 to answer. There is an odd story current in Norway and 
 Denmark touching the matter, which will make you laugh, if it 
 accomplish no other end. I don't suppose you will believe it. I 
 know you have too much good sense for that. But as strange and 
 fanciful as it is, there are a great many people in the northern part 
 of Euiope who are superstitious enough to credit it from beginning 
 to end. The story is something like this : 
 
 In ancient times, two brothers lived near each other. The one 
 was rich and the other poor. One Christmas day, the poor one 
 went to the rich one, and asked him for some food to carry home 
 to his family. The other brother — we will call his name Peter — 
 gave John a ham, and the latter started homeward. On his way 
 to his house, he had to pass through a forest, in which he saw a 
 strange-looking woodman, with his axe. From the woodman he 
 learned that there were some pigmies, or dwarfs, living underground 
 in those parts, and that if he chose, he could barter the ham with 
 
88 WHY IS THE SEA SALT? 
 
 tliem for an article of great value ; that they had a hand-mill ca- 
 pable of accomplishing inost wonderful feats, and that they were so 
 fond of ham, that they would take it in exchange for the mill. 
 John was shown the entrance to the dwelling of the little people, 
 and proposed to trade on the terms suggested by the woodman. 
 The bargain was made. The mill was obtained and taken home, 
 the woodman having first instructed the poor man how to manage 
 it, so that it would grind out all manner of good things. Thefiist 
 thing John did, after he got home, was to grind out his supper, 
 which was a very good one. Then he ground out coal, and a nicer 
 bed than he had before. In fact, as the silly story goes, he finally 
 got everything he wanted out of the mill ; and after his own wants 
 were all supplied, he ground out food and clothing for the poor. 
 At length, a great foreign merchant came that way, having heard 
 of the fame of the mill, and asked the owner if it would grind 
 salt. On being informed that it would, he oflfered a very large 
 ])i ice for it, as the principal part of liis business was dealing in salt. 
 Tlie poor man, however, refused to part with his mill on any 
 terms. So the merchant determined he would take it on his own 
 terms, and bribed one of the servants of the owner to give it up to 
 him. He took it on board of his ship. Having got some distance 
 out at sea, he determined he would set the mill at work, as he saw 
 no reason why it should be idle. lie directed it to grind salt, with 
 all its might; and it went to grinding salt with all its might. The 
 sailors beiran to fill the sacks with it ; but their sacks were soon 
 full — the ship was soon full — and, in spite of all that could be 
 (lone to shovel it overboard, it filled, and filled, more than ever. 
 The dishonest merchant now was frightened ; and throw the mill 
 overboard he would not ; but what was to be done ? It would not 
 stop grinding: and at last the ship was so full that, in spite of 
 all the shoveling overboard, down it went, making a great whirl- 
 pool when it sunk 1 The ship itself went to pieces very shortly ; 
 but the mill stands at the bottom of the sea, and to this day keeps 
 griading on salt, nothing but salt ! And that is the reason, say 
 many of the peasants of Denmark and Norway, why the sea is 
 salt. 
 
 " But I don't believe a word of that story." 
 
IXCxENUITY OF THE I^~1)IAXS. 89 
 
 Of course you don't. I didn't tell it to have it believed, but to 
 sliow YOU what stupid things ignorant and superstitious people can 
 be made to believe. 
 
 IISTGEISrUITY OF THE CALIFOEKIA INDIANS. 
 
 rpHE Indians in California, known as the Diggers, have the art 
 -L of weaving willow baskets so closely that they will hold water. 
 And what is more remarkable, they actually boil their pounded 
 acorns or bag of flour in them for want of kettles. This is done by 
 putting in pot-stones. Here is an account of an Indian breakfiist, 
 from Ross's Adventures in Oregon : 
 
 " On the 17th we were paddling along at daylight. On putting 
 ashore for breakfast, four Indians on horseback joined us. The 
 moment they alighted, one set about hobbling their horses, another 
 to gather small sticks, a third to make a fire, and a fourth to 
 catch fish. For this purpose the fisherman cut off a bit of kis 
 leather skirt, about the size of a bean ; then pulling out two or three 
 hairs from his horse's tail for a line, tied the bit of leather to one 
 end of it, in the place of a hook or fly. Thus prepared, he entered 
 the river a little -*.vay, sat down on a stone, and begun throwing the 
 small fish, three or four inches long, on shore, just as fast as he 
 pleased, and while thus employed, another picked them up and 
 threw them towaids the tire, while the third stuck them up around 
 in a circle on small sticks ; and they were no sooner up than roasted. 
 The fellows then sitting down, swallowed them — heads, tails, bones, 
 fins, and all — in no time, just as any one would swallow the yolk 
 of an e^g. Now all was but the work of a few minutes ; and be- 
 fore our man had his kettle ready for the fire, the Indians were eat- 
 ing their breakfast. When Jie fish had got hold of the bit of leather, 
 or bait, their teeth got entangled in it, so as to give him time to jerk 
 them on shore, which was to us a new method of angling. Fire pro- 
 duced by two bits of wood, was also a novelty ; but what surprised us 
 most of all was the regularity with which they proceeded, and the 
 quickness of the whole process, wdiicli actually took them less time 
 than it has taken me to note it down." 
 
90 
 
 THE BEDOUIN S DECEIT. 
 
 THE BEDOUIN'S DECEIT. 
 
 )_9-^- 
 
 AMARTiNE tells the following beautiful story : In tbe 
 tribe of Neggtk-n there was a horse, whose fame was 
 ''^^ spread far and near, and a Bedouin of another tribe, 
 by name Daher, desired extremely to possess it. 
 -'i''*' ' Having offered in vain for it his camels and his 
 
 whole wealth, he at length hit upon the following device, by which 
 he hoped to gain the object of his desire. He resolved to stain his 
 face with the juice of an herb, to clothe himself in rags, to tie his 
 legs and neck together, so as to appear like a lame beggar. Ti)us 
 equipped, he went to wait for Naber, the owner of the horse, whom 
 he knew was to pass that way. When he saw Naber approaching 
 on his beautiful steed, he cried out in a weak voice, " I am a poor 
 stranger: for three days I have been unable to move from this 
 spot to seek for food. I am dying ; help me, and heaven will re- 
 ward you." The Bedouin kindly offered to take him up on his 
 horse and carry him home, but the rogue replied, " I cannot rise ; I 
 have no strength left." Naber, touched with pity, dismounted, led 
 his horse to the spot, and, with great difficulty, set the seeming 
 beggar on its back. But no sooner did Daher feel himself in the 
 saddle, than he set spurs to the horse and galloped off, calling out 
 as he did so — " It is I, Daher. I have got the horse, and am off 
 with it." Naber called after him to stop and listen. Certain of 
 not being pursued, he turned, «,and halted at a short distance from 
 Naber, who was armed with a spear. " You have taken my horse," 
 said the latter. " Since heaven has willed it, I wish you joy of it, 
 but I do conjure you never to tell any one how you obtained it." 
 " And why not?" asked Daher. " Because," said the noble Arab, 
 " another man might be really ill, and men would fear to help him. 
 You would be the cause of many refusing to perform an act of 
 charity, for fear of being duped as I have been." Struck with 
 shame at these words, Daher was silent for a moment, then spring- 
 ing from the horse, returned it to its ownej-, embracing him. 
 
EDITOKIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 91 
 
 EDITOEIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 
 r-A HE .nn.ngrams of J. H. nre not original. That is rea- 
 ^ son enough why they should not be published. — . 
 The letter of T. P. H. I read carefully, and I am going 
 to preserve it among other tokens of friendship and 
 ion. — My friend " Grace Greenwood" will accept my 
 :s for her kind words. By the way, she is now the edi- 
 tor of an extremely pretty and racy children's paper, called 
 the "Little Pilgrim." — To " Jennie :" I cannot answer your 
 question. IMy memory refuses to give me a thimble-full of aid in the 
 matter. — ^' Sallie," our (Correspondent in Missouri, will please accept 
 our warm thanks for the kind interest she has taken in procuring sub- 
 scribers for the Cabinet. — To " Magnolia :" The Child's Dream is very 
 well written. If my poetical drawer were not so full, I should certainly 
 publish it. — " Eva," let us hear from you often. You have a fac- 
 ulty for amusing others, as well as a capacity for being amused,-.-Little 
 Charlie is informed that a portrait of the editor (rather an indifferent 
 one, it is pretty generally conceded) has already been published. It 
 appeared in the number for January, 1848, — I must decline the propo- 
 sition that comes to me from Shiloh, N. J. 
 
 THE GAME OF PROVERBS. 
 
 " I know a capital game," said our friend Willie. 
 
 " What is itT' exclaimed several voices. 
 
 "Proverbs." 
 
 "Oh ! yes, we all know how to play at that," said Sarah. 
 
 " /don't," said Fanny, 
 
 " Nor I," said little Nelly. " How do you play it ?" 
 
 " Why, one of us goes out and the rest tix upon some proverb ; then 
 he comes in, and asks each of us in turn a question," 
 
 " What sort of question ?" 
 
 " Oh ! anything he happens to tiiink of, and we must all say one of 
 the words of the proverb in turn in our answers; but we will try it 
 
92 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 once, and you will soon catch the idea. I'm afraid, though, that there 
 are hardly enough of us." 
 
 " No matter," said Willie, " we can each give two answers." 
 
 "Shall /come and swell your ranks ?" asked Mrs. Love, who had 
 been watching for some time the animated little speakers. 
 
 *' Oh ! yes, do, that's a dear good mother." 
 
 "Take the rocking-chair. Aunt Mary," said Willie, jumping up. 
 "Here's the footstool. Stir up the fire, Fan, and let's have a blnze : 
 that's nice. Now I'll go out while you think of a proverb, and fair 
 ladies have the kindness not to keep me more than three quarters of an 
 hour in the entry." 
 
 " Now, then, what proverb shall we take ? Let's see — suppose we 
 have ' // is a long lane that has no luryiing,'' '' suggested Sarah. 
 
 " Oh ! no," exclaimed Fanny. " I am sure the word lane would come 
 to me, and I never should be able to get it in tidily." 
 
 ""Well, ' Enough is as good as a feasly' or ' One good turn deserves 
 another: " 
 
 " Yes, the last will do wicely." 
 
 "Ready?" asks Willie, peeping in, and tfjplrg to look very much 
 frozen, and shivering immoderately. 
 
 "Yes. Come in." 
 
 " Cousin Charlotte, how would you like to be kept out in the cold 
 entry for three mortal minutes and twenty-three seconds V 
 
 " I don't think it would hurt one to stay there as long as you did." 
 
 " Fanny, do you like hard or soft coal best?" 
 
 "Oh ! I do love a nice,^ooc/, cheerful soft coal fire." 
 
 " Well," said Willie, "lam not much enlightened yet. Nelly, do 
 
 ice 
 
 ?" 
 
 you like a furuii 
 
 "No. I would turn it out of the house, if I had one." 
 
 "Aunt Mary, shall I throw puss into the fire?" 
 
 " She descries a better fate." 
 
 " Hum — deserves. I smell a rat," said Willie. " Sarah, are you going 
 out to-morrow ?" 
 
 " We may not have another day as fine as this." 
 
 " One good turn deserves anotJier,''^ exclaimed Willie, exultingly. " I 
 found it out at your deserves, Aunt Mary, so you have got to go out 
 now, or — I tell you what, girls, suppose ice all go out, and select a 
 proverb, and then Aunty needn't stir. Her head isn't quite well yet, / 
 know." 
 
 " Well." And out they ran, and then such a whispering! Some- 
 tinn's a little too loud, for words came through the key-hole, sounding 
 
EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 93 
 
 like " before you leap — new broom — clean — place — everything — its 
 place," &c. But at last the matter was settled, seats taken, and silence 
 restored. 
 
 " Now begin, mother." 
 
 " Well, Willie, are you enjoying your visit here ?" 
 
 " Where you are. Aunt Mary, I am happy." 
 
 " I ;im much obh'ged to you, Willie, but I hope you haven't com- 
 promised your conscience for the sake of your proverb. Do you think 
 he has, Charlotte 1" 
 
 " I think that there can be no doubt about it, mother." 
 
 " Nelly, do you think that the way to be happy is to be good ?" 
 
 " Yes, mother, I think it is, do not you ?" 
 
 " How many more questions must I ask, Fanny, to complete the 
 proverb V 
 
 " If that is meant for a question, I will answer — six." 
 
 "I am still in the dark. Won't you help me to some light, Sarah?" 
 
 " No, mother dear, I will not, if I can help it." 
 
 "TVillie, don't you think she is very unkind?" 
 
 " Why, Aunty, there isn't a worse child on the face of the earth !" 
 
 "Fanny, please box his ears on my account," said Sarah. 
 
 " Willie, consider your ears boxed," said Fanny, 
 
 "Oh ! I can't; it hurts so dreadfully !" 
 
 '•Now go on, mother." 
 
 " Do you think, Fanny, that there is any use in my trying to find it 
 out ?" 
 
 " Is there any hope of finding it out without trying, mother ?" 
 
 " No ; but then I am so stupid. Nelly, when are you going to school 
 again ?" 
 
 " Oh ! after a little while." 
 
 "Willie, how am I ever going to find this out?" 
 
 "Any way you like best, Aunt. There, I've said the last word. 
 Now if you don't guess it, you must have the dunce cap put on you, 
 and try again." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Love is quite puzzled. Who will help her out of her 
 difficulties? s. n. 
 
 10. When were tallow candles invented? 
 
 U. When were the satellites of Jupiter discovered? 
 
 12. When was the circulation of the blood discovered ? and by whom ? 
 
94 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 13. At what time did Joan of Arc flourish 1 and when was she exe- 
 cuted ? 
 
 14. What was the insurrection of Jack Cade ? and at what time did 
 it occur ? 
 
 15. In what year did the pLigue visit London? How many persons 
 is it computed died of it at that time ? 
 
 16. When was the great fire in that city ? 
 
 17. When was Charles I. beheaded? 
 
 18. When was astronomy and geography introduced into Europe? 
 and by whom ? 
 
 19. When was the Gunpowder Plot formed ? 
 
 20. AYhen was the mariner's compass discovered ? and by whom ? 
 
 BUDGET OF ANAGRAMS, NO. IF. 
 
 1. Real fun. 3. Hard case. 6. No more stars 
 
 2. In magic tale. 4. Evil fast. 6. Nay, I repent n. 
 
 W. N. D. 
 
 charade no. III. 
 
 In beauty bright my first is seen 
 
 Before the glorious sun has set, 
 My second, though accounted mean. 
 
 Will prey upon the mighty yet! 
 No beauty can my whole display 
 Till night has ta'en the place of day. s. N. 
 
 two disjointed proverbs. 
 
 A great many of our difficulties maybe dissimulation by 
 assiduity and proper diligence, come mischief lurks. 
 
 s. N. 
 
 ENIGMA for latin SCHOLARS. 
 
 I am composed of 18 letters. 
 My 4, 2, 12, 18, is both a planet and a fish. 
 My 18 10, was an ancient coin. 
 My 14, 5, 2, 9, is what we are all too fond of. 
 
 My 3, 11, 16, 6, 2, 9, was the birthplace of one of the seven wise 
 men. 
 None of us would like to be a 5, 10, 7, 1,2, 10. 
 
EDITOKIAL TABLE TALK. 95 
 
 My 18, 17, 12, 8, 5, 9, was a hero and king, of whom much has been 
 said. 
 
 My 15, 3, 14, 13, is a pronoun. 
 
 My whole was the motto of a great ancient painter, which we would 
 all do well to remember. edward win slow p. 
 
 ENIGMA NO. II. 
 
 Though small indeed my lettered name, 
 I'm yet most proudly known to fame : 
 Transcribed on the historic page. 
 In childish lore as well as sage ; 
 "Where balmy airs and south winds quiver, 
 Here am I still, as bright as ever! 
 
 My home is in a garden fair. 
 Whose culture is my constant care. 
 'Tis true my oft-bewildered head 
 Doth seek to rest in ocean's bed, 
 Yet sleep I ne'er, for who may pillow 
 A weary head on tossing billow? 
 
 My kin perchance may boast of. gold. 
 Yet I more precious keeping hold: 
 For what are simple grains of ore, 
 To all that mind and heart may store ? 
 Minerva crowns me with her learning. 
 The muse rich bays for me is earning. 
 
 Beside me once, a poet penned 
 The epic of his age and land ; 
 And sweetly with my voice's chime 
 " The bard of Zion" wove his rhyme. 
 He too who woke Orlando's measure, 
 Now lies by me, a buried treasure ! 
 
 The pleasant task is often mine. 
 
 To raise the head of drooping vine; 
 
 To polish the dark olive's glow; 
 
 To haste the tall grain's waving flow ; 
 
 To paint with brighter tint the flower 
 
 That blooms in bed, or decks the bower. 
 
96 
 
 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 And I have sadder duty done 
 For those whose race was quickly run : 
 I've oped my arms, and freely gave 
 "What earth denied them, e'en a grave ! 
 While he who made their death-bed gory, 
 "Was pressing on to reap new glory. 
 
 He won in time " the golden crown ;" 
 I saw him don the iron one. 
 While widowed wife and maid did pine 
 And mingle mournful tears with mine; 
 The cypress low e'en now is weeping 
 Above those victims' final sleeping. 
 
 Recall I may, remoter eld, 
 When scenes as sad my eye beheld : 
 My fair face twice was crimson dyed, 
 "When humbling bowed the eagle's pride; 
 And how my ear was pained in listing 
 To plans which sealed the trio's trysting! 
 
 Have I enough the story told 
 
 To prove "my name was famed from old ? 
 
 The brave whose fates with mine were bound, 
 
 Have scarce like me maintained their ground. 
 
 Oh may they rise, reneio their stature, 
 
 And be as free as is my nature ! laura. 
 
 ANSWER TO THE CARDINAL PUZZLE. 
 
 This puzzle, as Uncle Frank predicted, proved to be a pretty hard 
 one for the boys and gfrls, and I think, in the main, not very easy for 
 the grown-up people. Still, a good many 
 have solved it. This is one of the solutions. 
 The arrangement may be varied somewhat, 
 and the same result reached. You will see, 
 that if you add these numbers, either up and 
 down (vertically) or crosswise (horizontally) 
 or slanting from corner to corner (dingo- 
 nally) the sum will be just 34. You will see, 
 likewise, that the sum of the four numbers 
 in the four central squares, as also the sum of the four in the several 
 
 16 
 
 3 
 
 2 
 
 13 
 
 5 
 
 10 
 
 11 
 
 8 
 
 9 
 
 6 
 
 ^ 
 
 12 
 
 4 
 
 15 
 
 14 
 
 1 
 
EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 97 
 
 corners, is just 34. It is a curious problem, isn't it? See how many 
 ways the sum of 3-i may be produced : 
 
 I 
 
 
 VERTICAL. 
 
 
 
 HORIZONTAL. 
 
 
 DIAGONAL. 
 
 CENTRE 
 
 AND 
 
 CORNERS. 
 
 16 
 
 3 
 
 2 
 
 13 
 
 16 
 
 5 
 
 9 
 
 4 
 
 16 
 
 13 
 
 10 
 
 16 
 
 9 
 
 2 7 
 
 5 
 
 10 
 
 11 
 
 8 
 
 3 
 
 10 
 
 6 
 
 15 
 
 10 
 
 11 
 
 11 
 
 3 
 
 6 
 
 13 13 
 
 9 
 
 6 
 
 7 
 
 12 
 
 2 
 
 11 
 
 7 
 
 14 
 
 7 
 
 6 
 
 6 
 
 5 
 
 4 
 
 11 14 
 
 4 
 
 15 
 
 14 
 
 1 
 
 13 
 
 8 
 
 12 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 4 
 
 7 
 
 10 
 
 15 
 
 8 1 
 
 34 34 34 34 34 34 34 34 34 34 34 32 34 34 34 
 
 The arrangement of the figures will be simplified by observing th;it 
 they .'^ucceed each other in the order of the 
 lines in the diagram here introduced — the 
 direction which they take being indicated 
 by the arrow-heads. Those who have not 
 solved the problem can, by this diagram, 
 easily remember how the numbers are to 
 be phiced. The arrows show which way 
 one must travel to reach the figures in their 
 order. 
 
 The following persons sent a correct so- 
 lution to the problem : 
 
 J. L. Russ, of Lewiston, N. Y. ; Sarah M. Graham, of Toledo, O. ; 
 D. Leet Wilson, of Sewickley Bottom, Pa.; Benjamin Knepper, of 
 Wellersburg, Pa. ; L. J. Little, of Sheffield, Ms.; "Eva," of Castine, 
 Me, ; Betsey A. Brainard, of Boardman, N. Y. ; Edward R. Earl, of 
 Cambridgeport, Vt. ; Jennie, of Avon, Ct. ; S. N. of Brooklyn, N. Y. ; 
 George H. Bliss, and B. M. S. of New York City. ; J. W. B. of Goshen. 
 Ct. ; William G. Fowler, jr. of Wilmington, N. C. ; N. A. D. of Brook- 
 lyn, N. Y. ; Sylvester H. Dodge, of Lakeville, N.'Y. ; Fanny Stearns, 
 of Elizabeth Town, N. J. 
 
 \ 
 
 / 
 
 """v 
 
 4 
 
 1' 
 
 
 1^ 
 
 -\ 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 1/ 
 
 3// 
 
 \- 
 
 -'1 
 
 \' 
 
 / 
 
 V_ 
 
 -1 
 
 1 
 
 " FAIR ROSAMOND S BOWER 
 
 Was entered by the following: Edward R. Earl, of Cambridgeport, 
 Vt.; "Jennie," of Avon, Ct. ; " Ellie," of Tarrytown, N. Y. ; "Eva," 
 of Castine, Me. ; B. M. P. of Whitneyville, Ct. ; Alexander Ilambleton 
 and James P. Hambleton, of Easton (supposed to be Maryland, but the 
 name of the State not given) ; Ira F. Brainard, Emma L. Brainard, and 
 Betsey A. Brainard, of Boardman, N. Y. ; Robert A. Clarke, of Fair- 
 field, Pa. ; R. F. W. of Poughkecpsie, N. Y. ; Seth J. Axtell, jr. of 
 Grafton, Ms.; Julia A. Davis, of Cornish, Vt. : Wm. T. Hall, of Bcth- 
 
 roL. V. •"> *'"^ 
 
•98 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 any, Pa. ; C. M. Parmele, A. M, Parmele, S. S. Parmele, Emma S. Kel- 
 loway, and Sarah A. Kelloway, of Clinton, N. Y. ; Charles H. Little, of 
 Sheffield, Ms.; Anna M. Knepper, of Wellersburg, Pa.; James Ed- 
 mund, of Brooklyn, N. Y. ; L. R. S. Needham, of Madison, N. J. : 
 Mary F. Dodge, of Lakeville, N. Y. ; Ann F. G. Black, of Ellsworth 
 Me.; George S. Marris, of Norwich, Vt. ; P. A. Stuart, Milan, O. 
 Fanny and Clara Stearns, of Elizabeth Town, N. J, ; A. W. Starbnck 
 of Nantucket, Ms. ; S. F. Poorman, of Tiffin, O. ; L. M. Avers, of Ful 
 ton, 111. ; Geo. W. Geortner, of Canajoharie, N. Y. : Geo. H. Wallace 
 of Canton, O. ; D. G. White, of West Hartford, Ct. ; N. Austin, of 
 Austinburg, O. ; W. G. M. of Pottstown, Pa. 
 
 answer to the prize charade in prose. 
 Your Ear-ring. 
 Answered by T. C. D. of Henry County, Ky. 
 
 answer to budget of anagrams, no. i. 
 
 1. Marietta. 3. Portugal. 6. Paradise. 
 
 2. Cabinet. 4. American. 6. A.itelope. 
 
 S. N. 
 
 ANSAVER TO ALPHABETIC PUZZLE. 
 
 To use up the alphabet T did essay ; 
 
 The poetic result I will show " S. L. C." 
 Jump down ye black frights brings them all into play, 
 
 With the simple exception of Q, X, V, Z. 
 To use one more letter again I did try. 
 
 And although the result was not quite so sublime. 
 Jump doicn, vex black frights, leaves but Q, Z and Y. 
 
 I \Nould try it once more, but I haven't got time. 
 
 answer to rebus no. i. 
 
 Ere long expect a great overturning and uprising in 
 Europe. s. n. 
 
 s. N.'s new game of planting. 
 
 Oh, how the little folks have studied over the question as to the 
 
 planting of the sun, A great many flowers have been named. The 
 
 Morning Glory is the right one ; and a correct answer was sent by 
 
 " Eva." of Castine, Me. ; " Jennie," of Avon, Ct. ; B. M. P. of Whit- 
 
EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 99 
 
 neyville, Ct. ; Charles H. Liltle, of Sheffield, Ms. who thinks that Jai.sy 
 (days eye) would not be a bud answer; Alice, of Sharon, Ct. who sug- 
 gests that if S. N. should plant one of her curls, maidens hair would 
 be likely to come up. 
 
 Charles H. Little has a capital question of this kind to ask : If " the 
 77100)1 be planted, what will come up?" 
 
 ANSWER TO HISTORICAL QUERIES, NO. I. 
 
 1. The Normans first invaded England in 980. William the Con- 
 queror was the first Norman king. He commenced his reign in 1066. 
 
 2. Glass windows were first used in England about 1180. It must 
 not be forgotten, though, that some of the houses in Pompeii had glass 
 windows, and they were built before the Christian era. 
 
 3. The Magna Charta was drawn up by the English barons, and 
 signed by King John, sometimes called John Lackland, in 1215. It 
 gave greater liberty to all classes in Great Britain than they had before 
 enjoyed. 
 
 4. The ]Magic Lantern was invented by Roger Bacon in 1252. 
 
 5. Westminster x\bbey was founded in 610, by Sebert, king of the 
 East Saxons. The present structure was built in the reign of Edward 
 the Confessor, in 1065. 
 
 6. Clocks, with toothed wheels, were invented in France, by Gerbert, 
 in 996. 
 
 7. The Crusades commenced in 1296. They were four in number. 
 The second began in 1147; the third in 1188; the fourth in 1202. 
 
 8. Kenil worth Castle w\as erected in 1120, by Baldwin II. of Jeru- 
 salem. 
 
 9. The Doomsday Book (more properly Domesday Book) was prepared 
 by William the Conqueror, in 1086, and was an account of all the es- 
 tates in his kingdom at that time. 
 
 Answered by "'Eva," of Castine, Me. who seems to be quite au fait 
 in history; "Jennie," (in part.) of Avon, Ct. ; Alice, of Sharon, Ct.; B. 
 M. T. of New York City. 
 
 answer to names of places in massachusetts 
 enigmatically expressed. 
 
 1. Andover. 2. Marblehead. 3. ]\Iendon. 
 
 4. Braintrf.e. 5. Lowell. 6. Barnstable. 
 
 Answered by W. N. D. of Brooklyn, N. Y. ; J. B. W. Adams, of New 
 Berlin, Pa. ; Edward R. Earl, of Cambridgeport, Vt. ; Scth J. A.\tell,jr. 
 of Grafton, :Ms. ; Henry A. Danker, of Troy, N. Y. ; R. F. W. of 
 
100 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 Poughkeepsie, N. Y, ; James Elmendorf, of Brooklyn, N. Y. ; Alice, of 
 Sharon, Ct. ; George S. Marris, of Norwich, Vt. ; Fanny Stearns, of 
 Elizabeth Town, N. J. 
 
 ANSWER TO THE TWIN RIDDLE. 
 
 Pray give us the watch-word, 
 
 And w^e will proceed 
 To unlock your riddle. 
 
 'Tis the key that we need. 
 
 So writes the sprightly Jennie, of Avon, Ct. ; and the riddle is also 
 answered by S. N. of Brooklyn, N. Y. ; and " A Green Mountain Girl," 
 of Sheldon, Vt. 
 
 answer to charade no. i. 
 
 Gan-net. 
 Solved by George H. Bliss, of New York City; S. N. of Brooklyn, 
 N. Y. ; Jennie, of Avon, Ct. ; Henry A. Danker, of Troy, N. Y. ; Seth 
 J. Axtell, jr. of Grafton, Ms.; J. W. B. of Goshen, Ct.; "A Green 
 Mountain Girl," of Sheldon, Vt. 
 
 ANSW^ER TO charade NO. II. 
 
 Moon-shine. 
 Solved by George IT. Bliss, of New York City; Jennie, of Avon, 
 Ct. ; Edward R. Earl, of Cambridgeport, Vt, ; Henry A. Danker, of 
 Troy, N. Y. ; Seth J. Axtell, jr. of Grafton, Ms.; Julia A. Davis, of 
 Cornish, Vt. ; Cornelia M. Parmele, of Clinton, N. Y. ; L. J. Little, of 
 Sheffield, Ms.; James Elmendorf, of Brooklyn, N. Y. ; J. W. B. of 
 Goshen, Ct. ; "A Green Mountain Girl," of Sheldon, Vt. ; George S. 
 Marris, of Norwich, Vt. ; N. Austin, of Austinsburg, O. By the way, 
 is it notrather funny that not one of the wise heads that puzzled over 
 this chnrade, found out that it carried its answer right on its face, in 
 the form of an acrostic ? 
 
 ANSWER TO anagrams OF SCRIPTURE PROPER NAMES, NO. I. 
 
 1. Arimathea. 3. ReH0B0A3I. 
 
 2. Benhadad. 4. Methusael. 
 
 Solved by Edward R. Earl, of Cambridgeport, Vt. who thinks there 
 is no such name in the Bible as the fourth anagram, but who is in- 
 formed that he is mistaken ; Henry A. Danker, of Troy, N. Y, ; James 
 Elmendorf, of Brooklyn, N. Y. 
 
AN HOUR IN THE REPTILE ROOM. 
 
 108 
 
 AN HOUR m THE REPTILE ROOM. 
 
 NEVER could find it in my heart to love snakes, of any 
 i^ kind. I take them, the whole race of them, to belong 
 to the unlovable portion of the animal kingdom, if 
 ^ there is such a portion, and certain it is that serpents 
 are pretty generally liated. Still, I confess to a liking for 
 looking at the different members of the family, when I am 
 "^^ quite sure that I can do so with safety ; and I confess, more- 
 over, that during the day I spent at the Zoological Gardens in Lon- 
 don, nothing interested me more, on the whole, than the magnificent 
 saloon appropriated mainly to reptiles. There is probably a larger 
 collection of serpents in this room than can be found anywhere else 
 in the world ; and the conveniences for keeping them and exhibiting 
 them to advantage, are, I suppose, unparalleled. Immense glass 
 cages are appropriated to each species, sufliciently spacious, in every 
 case, to allow the inmates to enact their respective parts, some of 
 which are tragic enough. 
 
 There is an almost endless variety of form and color in these 
 serpents. Some of these exotic pythons and boas are monsters. 
 One of them,- they told me, weighed one hundred and fifty pounds. 
 In their cages a tree of considerable dimensions is placed, and on 
 •this tree they frequently repose, the tail coiled round one of the 
 boughs. Others were sleeping soundly on a mat at the bottom of 
 their glass house. Most of the different animals in the entire gar- 
 dens are fed at a stated time, and those persons who are disposed 
 to witness the manner in which the various species capture their 
 prey and eat, can have an opportunity of doing so. When the 
 hour arrived for feeding the boas, an immense crowd assembled, all 
 eager to behold what, in itself, is an exceedingly unpleasant sight. 
 The boa that was fed this time was not of very great dimensions, 
 and the animal assigned him for his dinner was comparatively 
 amall. It was a hare. Poor fellow ! if ever I pitied a dumb 
 
104 AN HOUR IN THE REPTILE ROOM. 
 
 creature in my life — and I believe I have known soiuething of that 
 feeling — it was that innocent hare. As soon as he was placed in 
 the cage, he seemed to comprehend at a glance the extreme dan- 
 ger of his position, and to have considered himself a lost hare. 
 He shrunk timidly away into a corner of the cage, and shook as 
 if he had the ague, at the same time crying piteously. What were 
 the exact thoughts which passed in that hare's mind during the very 
 few moments left him for contemplation, I suppose we have not the 
 means of knowing. But I am sure he seemed begging for mercy 
 of his powerful enemy. I could almost hear him whine out some- 
 thing like this language : " Pray don't kill me, Mr. Boa, or Mr. 
 Python, or whatever great monarch I have the honor to address ; 
 for I am a poor innocent rabbit. I never oftended you. I never 
 had an unkind feeling toward you in my life." And then, perceiv- 
 ing the huge monster by no means moved to pity, but was rather 
 moving to quite a different purpose, methinks I heard him say, 
 " Nay, great prince, I am too mean an animal to presume to enter 
 your august throat. I am but a little scapegrace of a hare. In 
 yonder pool there is a seal, a very fat seal, who would please you 
 much better." 
 
 The serpent coiled his tail closer around one of the highest 
 boughs of the tree, and gradually raised his head, displaying a pair 
 of eyes that seemed to look right through the little shivering hare. 
 
 " That seal" — the hare is supposed to go on with his plea — " is 
 worthy of your majesty's favor. He — oh, pray, noble sir, spare" — 
 
 But there was no pity in the breast of that monster ; nor did he 
 seem to have been moved in the least by the arguments of the- 
 hare, if such as I have surmised were used on the occasion. Quick, 
 almost, as a flash of lightning, the boa had leaped down from the 
 tree, and in another instant the poor hare was folded in the em- 
 brace of death. The serpent gradually drew tighter the coils in 
 which he held his victim, still retaining his hold of the bough of 
 the tree, until he appeared to be satisfied that life was extinct, when 
 he made preparations for — you know the rest. One thing, how- 
 ever, which is charged to the account of his race, he neglected to 
 do. He did not prepare his victim for the feat he performed in 
 connection with him, by any such process as we have so often heard 
 
AN HOUR IN THE REPTILE ROOM. 
 
 105 
 
 THE RATTLE SNAKE. 
 
 of. I was glad to find that death took place so soon after the 
 victim was seized. I don't believe the poor hare lived a minute 
 after the serpent pounced upon him. 
 
 There were several large rattle snakes in this room, and I know 
 not how many venomous 
 serpents. Some of them 
 were clad ' in a beautiful 
 dress, and their eyes were 
 perfectly fascinating. Here 
 I saw several species of the 
 Cerastes, one of the most 
 deadly serpents in the world- 
 One species of this genus, 
 called the Egyptian asp, is 
 supposed to be the same 
 that Queen Cleopatra used to destroy her life, that is, if the story 
 of her death is true, which many of the Avise ones doubt. This 
 serpent, when free, in its native countrv, generally lies just below 
 the surface of the sand, through which the horn-like appendages 
 above the eye may then be seen peering above the suifMce. Not 
 the slightest motion indicates the existence of life below them, 
 until, perhaps, some little unsuspecting inhabitant of the desert 
 happens to come along that way. Then, in an instant, the head of 
 the serpent is raised above his ambush, the jaws are opened wide, 
 and tiie fangs erected from the sheath in which they are ordinarily 
 imbedded. Swift as an arrow is the stroke of the serpent. The 
 subtle poison mingles with the victim's blood, and in about one 
 hundred seconds it is dead. 
 
 A gentleman, who once visited this reptile room at night, says 
 that the inmates played a great many pranks which cannot be seen 
 in the day-time. He represents the spectacle, at that season, as 
 full of terrible interest. " About ten o'clock one evening," says he, 
 "in company with two naturalists of eminence, we entered that 
 apartment. A small lantern was our only light, and the faint 
 illumination of this imparted a ghastly character to the scene be- 
 fore us. The clear plate glass which faces the cages was invisible, 
 and it was difficult to believe that the monsters were in confinement 
 
 VOL. V. 6* MR 
 
106 AN HOUK IN THE KEPTILE ROOM. 
 
 and the spectators secure. Those who have only seen the boas and 
 pythons, the rattle snakes and cobras, lazily hanging in festoons 
 from the forks of the trees in the dens, or sluggishly coiled up, can 
 form no conception of the appearance and actions of the same crea- 
 tures at night. The huge boas and pythons were chasing each 
 other in every direction, whisking about the dens with the rapidity 
 of lightning, sometimes clinging in huge coils round the branches, 
 anon entwining each other in massive folds, then separating, they 
 would rush over and under the branches, hissing and lashing theii 
 tails in hideous sport. Ever and anon, thirsty with their exertions, 
 they would approach the pans of water and drink eagerly, lap- 
 ping it with their forked tongues. As our eyes became accustomed 
 to the darkness, we perceived objects better ; and on the uppermost 
 branch of the tree, in the den of the biggest serpent, we perceived 
 a pigeon quietly roosting, apparently indiflferent alike to the tur- 
 moil which was going on around, and to the vicinity of the mon- 
 ster whose meal it was soon to form. In the den of one of the 
 smallest serpents was a little mouse, whose panting sides and fast- 
 beating heart showed that it at least disliked its company. Dur- 
 ing the time we were looking at these creatures, all sort of noises 
 were heard. A strange scratching at the glass would be audible. 
 It was the carnivorous lizard endeavoring to inform us that it was 
 a fast day with him, entirely contrary to his inclination. A sharp 
 hiss would startle us from another quarter, and we stepped back 
 involuntarily, as the lantern revealed the inflated hood and threat- 
 ening action of an angry cobra. Then a rattle snake would take 
 umbrage, and, sounding an alarm, would make a stroke against 
 the glass, intended for our person. The fixed gaze from the bril- 
 liant eyes of the huge pythons was more fascinating and pleasant, 
 and the scene, taking it altogether, more exciting than agreeable. 
 Each of the spectators involuntarily stooped to make sure that his 
 trovvsers were well strapped down ; and, as if our nerves were 
 jesting, a strange sensation would every now and then be felt, re- 
 sembling the twining of a small snake about the legs." 
 
A PILGRIMAGE TO ST. BERNARD'S. 
 
 107 
 
 A PILGEIMAGE TO ST. BERNAED'S. 
 
 N the Yth day of June, in company with two young 
 Americans, in whose society I saw many of the 
 most noted lions of Italy and Switzerland, I went 
 up to the Great St. Bernard. It was a charming summer 
 morning at Martigny, when we set out on the excursion. 
 The temperature was not unlike that of Connecticut or 
 Massachusetts at the same season of the year. Though we arrived 
 at our hotel at Martigny, on our route across the Simplon, the night 
 before at 12 o'clock, and were then so tired from walking many a 
 mile up the Italian slope of the Alps, that we could scarcely crawl 
 up one flight of stairs to bed, yet we were " as good as new" at 
 sunrise the next morning, and ready for any achievement in the 
 Herculean way that might oflfer. It was thus day after day during 
 my rambles in Switzerland. I never dreamed before that I was 
 capable of enduring so much fatigue with so little permanent in- 
 convenience. Every day the physical clock-work would completely 
 run down, but every night it got nicely wound up again. I do not 
 believe that Rip Van Winkle slept sounder among the Highlands 
 of the Hudson, than I did among the glaciers of the Alps. 
 
 The guide we hired at Martigny, Pierre, by name, provided 
 everything necessary for the expedition. We gave him a carte 
 blanche for the purpose as soon as we opened our eyes in the 
 morning, and before we had despatched our breakfast, he was ready 
 to set out. Each of us was provided with an alpenstock — a long 
 pole, with a spur at the lower end, and a chamois horn at the 
 other — to assist us in leaping when it should become necessary, 
 in the course of human events, to exchange our mules' feet for our 
 own. Pierre was a good commissary ; we laughed when we saw 
 how liberally he was providing against an onslaught from the genius 
 
108 A PILGRIMAGE TO ST. BERNARD'S. 
 
 of starvation. Among his stores was a black bottle, which he 
 treated as carefully as if it contained consecrated oil for extreme 
 unction, though, in fact, it was filled with a very different fluid. 
 We started in a char-d-hanc. The reader has no doubt heard of 
 this vehicle, but he wnll not probably see its like out of Switzerland. 
 It is rather a grotesque contrivance. Its shape, 
 
 "If shape it can "be called, -which shape has none," 
 
 is unlike anything else in the earth beneath, or the waters under 
 the earth, unless it may be said to resemble a crab, which I am 
 not sure but it does a Kttle, when it is in motion. Two mules 
 were attached to this vehicle. " Prenez-garde de la houtelle^'' said 
 the guide. " Out, inonsieur,''^ we replied, " we will take the most 
 excellent care of it, never fear." And with that we set out. Reader, 
 are you fond of a jolting ride ? Because if you are, and can't get 
 enough of it at home, I am sure you would be pounded to your 
 heart's content, in riding from ^fartigny to Liddes, on your way up 
 the Great St. Bernard. 
 
 A most uninviting district of country we pass through for a 
 great part of the way, after leaving the valley of the Rhine, in 
 which Martigny is situated ; and it becomes more uninviting still, 
 when we leave the valley of the Dranse, a small tributary of the 
 Rhine, which falls into it at Martigny. Though the Dranse now 
 and then accomplishes something respectable in the way of a cas- 
 cade, I was disappointed, on the whole, in not finding more of the 
 picturesque in the scenery. The inhabitants seem, for the most 
 part, to be shepherds and hunters. Many keep their herds, in the 
 summer, as far up the slopes of the mountains as they can find 
 pasture, but retreat towards the valley at the approach of winter. 
 I suppose it would be diflSoult to find a worse-looking set of people 
 in all Switzerland, than those we saw on our way up to the hos- 
 pice. That most disgusting form of disease called the goitre, so 
 common in Switzerland, seems to run riot here. Of adults whom 
 we met, I think nearly one quarter were afflicted with this calamity. 
 It seemed to be more prevalent among the womren than the men. 
 In its worst type, or in its most mature stage, an immense and 
 exceedingly revolting protuberance appears on the neck. In sev- 
 
A PILGKIMAGE TO ST. BERNAKD'S. 109 
 
 eral instances, which came under my observation, this swelling 
 must have been five inches long. The little villages on the way — 
 there are two or three of them — exhibit a shocking degree of 
 poverty and filth. At one of these villages, called St. Pierre, we 
 left our char-d-banc. The road, for the remainder of the distance, 
 is too steep and rugged even for such a vehicle. The guide trans- 
 ferred our luggage to the back of one of the mules, and after a 
 little refreshment, we resumed our march on foot, alpenstock in 
 hand, the mule, however, giving us a lift now and then. Pretty 
 soon the cool atmosphere which we encountered at St. Pierre 
 changed to one positively cold. Vegetation became more and 
 more scarce and stunted. The rude huts of the shepherds disap- 
 peared. The last house which is inhabited before reaching the 
 hospice, is distant about an hour's walk. Albeit it is rather a 
 shabby house of entertainment, having in it, if I recollect right, 
 but two rooms, and comfortless rooms enough at that. It bears the 
 name of La Grande Maison. I was in advance of the rest of 
 the party, having rode for half an hour. I was as near freezing as 
 I ever wish to get ; but there was not a spark of fire in the room 
 to which they conducted me, and it took a long time to make one. 
 A most cheerless place is the " Great House," and a most cheerless 
 country, every way, is that which meets the eye around it. Not 
 a green thing was to be seen. Trees there were none. A cold, 
 drizzly, dismal, freezing rain was in progress, which soon changed 
 to a fine, drifting, pelting, cutting snow. The mule could proceed 
 no farther, and we left him. So much of the old snow of the 
 previous winter remained, that it was deemed dangerous to trust to 
 any legs but our own. Pierre strapped the luggage, all except the 
 coats and shawls, which we needed, upon his own back, ana we 
 were soon hard at work floundering through the snowdrifts, and 
 leaping over the little streams. It was at this juncture that I 
 picked up a piece of information which was not a little vexatious. 
 I had left my overcoat at St. Pierre. It was so warm and comfort- 
 able there that I had forgotten it, and now I was in the midst of 
 an angry winter, and had to depend upon a shawl which I had 
 not the means of confining upon my shoulders. In this plight, I 
 could not help thinking of another pilgrim with whose history you 
 
110 A PILGRIMAGE TO ST. BERNARD'S. 
 
 are well acquainted — the man who, once on a time, when he fell 
 asleep by the road-side, lost a valuable roll, and did not discover 
 the loss of it until he was in a situation where he greatly needed it 
 It was a grand calamity, the loss of that garment ; and we soon 
 had an illustration of the old notion that 
 
 "Misfortunes come not single spies, 
 But in "battalions" — 
 
 for, in an unguarded moment, when we were scrambling along the 
 edge of a mammoth table rock, our guide lost his footing, and down 
 he tumbled, pack and all. On picking himself up, it was discovered, 
 to the unutterable consternation and grief of poor Pierre, that the 
 bottle of which he had all along taken such especial care, was* 
 dashed to atoms. I fancy I hear my good friend Dr. Marsh gig- 
 gling over this accident ; but if he had been on the ground, seen 
 the long face of Pierre, and withal heard the loud lamentations of 
 the entire party, I am not sure but some genial tears of sympathy 
 for us would have flowed from his eyes, and mingled with the 
 snows of old St. Bernard. 
 
 We arrived at the hospice at about six o'clock in the evening, a 
 sorry company of adventurers, you may be sure. For a great part 
 of the last stage of the route, we had to wade in snow so wet that 
 we sunk in it up to our knees. Sometimes we had to creep cau- 
 tiously over a huge drift, below which, I know not how many 
 fathoms, we could hear the murmuring of a stream of water. We 
 had to keep a bright look-out for avalanches, too. We saw one 
 only. It gave us a wide berth, providentially, and no one of the 
 party wished it had come nearer. It was a grand sight. The 
 noise of a distant avalanche is very like that of thunder, and the 
 traveler is not unfrequently startled by it in this vicinity. A week 
 or two before our excursion, as we learned from the good monks, 
 two Americans went up the St. Bernard without a guide. They 
 missed their way, and in consequence, encountered an avalanche. 
 They were completely buried in it, and it was with the utmost dif- 
 ficulty that they actually escaped. 
 
 The monks — we are now at St. Bernard's, reader — received us 
 with great cordiality, showed us the chambers where we were to 
 
A PILGRIMAGE TO ST. BERNARD'S. Ill 
 
 sleep, provided us with dry stockings and slippers, and made up for 
 our benefit a fire large enough to roast an ox, before which — the 
 fire, not the ox — we could not so very much wonder that the ghe- 
 hers made such a choice as they did among all the different false 
 deities. We had been but a short time at the hospice, when an- 
 other party, two of whom were ladies, arrived. They, too, were 
 welcomed in the same courteous and hospitable manner. Our 
 supper was excellent, and you may rest assured we all did it ample 
 justice. The monks, at the time we visited the convent, were some 
 four or five in number. In the winter season, I believe, more are 
 required. They sat at the table with us, and conversed with us 
 during the meal. I was glad to find that they were cheerful and 
 happy, notwithstanding their solitary life. While seated at the 
 table, they made a great many inquiries about matters and things 
 in America, and expressed much interest in our answers. It would 
 appear that the account of the terrible calamity which happened in 
 one of the public schools in the city of New York had recently 
 reached them, and they begged us to tell them all we knew on this 
 painful topic. They speak the best of French ; and their enuncia- 
 tion is so clear and distinct, that we, who limped occasionally in 
 French, found that we could understand them much better than 
 most Frenchmen, whose frequent elisions, added to the rapidity of 
 their utterance, in common conversation, confuse the Anglo-Saxon 
 not a little. They were in fine humor, perfectly ripe for a joke. 
 They had picked up a few English words, and they laughed up to 
 their very foreheads as they fruitlessly essayed to pronounce them. 
 Once in a while, too, when we tripped rather ludicrously in our 
 French, they took the license to be good-naturedly merry at our 
 expense. I remember that, at one time, getting up a little more 
 than my ordinary allowance of steam in conversation, I dashed on 
 with such heedless impetuosity that I bolted out vous etes for nous 
 sommes, whereat the merriment of the good brethren was un- 
 boimded. 
 
 On the whole, I was exceedingly pleased with these self-denying 
 monks. Whatever flaw there may be in the heart of their religion, 
 I do not see how, with that charity which " hopeth all things," we 
 can refase to accord to them and their fraternity a genuine Chris- 
 
112 A PILGRIMAGE TO ST. BERNARD'S. 
 
 tian philanthropy of the highest stamp. If theirs is not disinter- 
 ested benevolence, where on this planet shall we look for it? These 
 men devote themselves, at a very early age, to the humane duties 
 at St. Bernard's. Young men only can perform eftective service 
 there. Their voluntary enlistment is for fifteen years ; but such 
 are the hardships to which they are exposed in traversing those 
 boundless fields of snow in the winter season, that very few of them 
 live to complete that term ; and those who do live, are often driven, 
 with impaired health, to seek a lower and more genial clime. The 
 hospice, let it be borne in mind, is situated more than eight thou- 
 sand feet above the level of the sea. It always freezes there early 
 in the morning ; and they told us that in the height of summer a 
 week rarely passed without a formidable fsiU of snow. Sometimes, 
 in the winter, the snow-drifts accumulate around them to the depth 
 of forty feet. The perils of the pass of St. Bernard in the winter 
 can hardly be over-rated. The snow falls in very fine particles, like 
 dust, and completely blinds the traveler, so that it is quite impos- 
 sible for him to find his way. The attempt, indeed, to cross the 
 pass of the Great St. Bernard in the depth of winter, unless with a 
 most skillful guide, long familiar with the route, is little less than 
 suicidal. Yet, strange enough, many reckless adventurers, mostly 
 pedlers, I believe, undertake the journey, and not a few are lost. 
 
 There were only three dogs in the hospice when we visited it. 
 Fine fellows they seemed to be, perfectly under the control of their 
 masters. I do not know whether I ought to disturb a pleasant 
 charm which hangs over the history of these dogs, in every part of 
 the globe. It is always pleasanter to believe a pretty story, than 
 it is to disbelieve it. The condition of faith, on the whole, is a more 
 happy one than that of doubt. But these good monks, when they 
 heard us praise the renowned dogs of St. Bernard, smiled a little, 
 and intimated that though they were undeniably very intelligent, 
 very shrewd, very humane dogs, yet their intelligence, and shrewd- 
 ness, and humanity made rather a greater figure abroad than at 
 home. These animals, sagacious as they are, we were told, never 
 performed much efi*ective, Howard-like service, unless attended by 
 one or more of their masters, in which case they were nevertheless 
 invaluable. 
 
A PILGRIMAGE TO ST. BERNARD'S. 113 
 
 The rooms at the hospice, which are comfortable and neat, are 
 capable of accommodating nearly a hundred travelers with beds. 
 The main building is substantially built of stone. The summit of 
 the mountain on which the hospice stands, is subject to exceeding 
 high winds. During almost the entire night I slept there, a furious 
 gale was blowing. Though I had over me unnumbered strata of 
 quilts, to say nothing of a veritable feather-bed — for in Switzerland 
 they are in the habit of creeping under instead of reclining upon 
 these feather-beds — I had the greatest difficulty in keeping com- 
 fortably warm. The next morning, when we rose, we found our- 
 selves in the very heart of one of the angriest snow-storms I ever 
 witnessed. 
 
 After prayer with the monks and breakfast, we were shown the 
 morgue^ where the bodies of those who fall victims to the severity 
 of the winter in this region, are exposed to be recognised by their 
 friends. A truly frightful spectacle this place presents. From the 
 rapid evaporation at this height, the bodies dry, without going 
 through the usual process of decay. There, among the victims, lay 
 a mother, with a child clasped in her arms — the bodies left in the 
 same position as they were discovered amid the snow-drifts. 
 
 Afterwards we visited the chapel, containing, among other things 
 of less interest to an American Protestant, a monument, erected by 
 Napoleon to General Dessaix, who fell at Marengo. A box is 
 placed in the chapel, where travelers who have the means, are ex- 
 pected to deposit what they are disposed to give for their enter- 
 tainment. The money thus contributed, which I was rejoiced to 
 learn is by no means inconsiderable, enables the monks to extend 
 additional liberalities in behalf of suffering wayfarers, and to en- 
 tertain, free of expense, those who are destitute. 
 
 Soon after breakfast, we bade the inmates of the hospice adieu, 
 and departed with their blessing. One of the monks, perceiving 
 how poorly provided I was for encountering the storm, offered to 
 loan me his mantle, and I was glad enough to borrow it. A long 
 and very clerical robe it proved to be ; and when I was vested with 
 it, the humor of the brethren of the order of St. AugHstine burst 
 out afresh. They laughed, clapped their hands, and declared I 
 seemed a very creditable specimen of a monk. 
 
114 
 
 THE HERONS AND THE HERRINGS. 
 
 THE HERONS AND THE HERRINGS. 
 
 A FABLK FOR THE TIMES. BY FRANCIS C. WOODWORTH. 
 
 A Heron eame down from his home in the sky, 
 To the court of his cousins the fishes, 
 
 With despatches so heavy he scarcely could fly, 
 And his bosom brim-full of good wishes. 
 
 That he was unfriendly to Herrings, he said 
 He hoped there would be no suspicion ; 
 
 His government wished to convert them instead, 
 And this was the end of his mission. 
 
 The Herrings replied, and were civil enough, 
 Though a little inclined to be witty: — 
 
 " We know we are heathenish, savage, and rough, 
 And feel greatly obliged for your pity. 
 
THE CLERK AND THE GRAMMARIAN. 115 
 
 But your plan of conversion we humbly decline, 
 
 With all due respect for your nation. — 
 No doubt it would tend to exalt and refine; 
 
 Yet we fear it would check respiration." 
 
 The Heron returned to his peers in disdain, 
 
 And told how their love was requited ; 
 " Poor creatures !" they said, " can we let them remain 
 
 So ignorant, blind, and benighted ?" 
 
 Then soon on a crusade of love and good-will, 
 
 The Herons in council decided ; 
 And they flew, every one that could bear a long bill. 
 
 To the beach where the Herrings resided. 
 
 So the heathen were brought from the sea to the air. 
 
 Not liking, 'tis said, the diversion. 
 And thinking they needed some time to prepare 
 
 For this singular mode of conversion. 
 
 A man of good sense will discover with ease 
 
 The point of the tale I've related ; 
 A blockhead could not, let me say what I please — 
 
 Then why need the moral be stated? 
 
 THE CLERK AND THE GRAMMAEIAN. 
 
 A VILLAGE parish clerk, who employed a grammarian to teach 
 bis daughter the syntax of her native tongue, heard him with 
 much surprise define the use of the articles a, an, and the. 
 
 " You cannot place a, the singular article, before plural nouns — 
 no one can say a houses^ a horses^ a" — 
 
 " Hold there," said the parish clerk, " I must contradict you in 
 that. Don't I, at church, every Sunday, say a-men 'i r:nd the 
 prayer-book knows better than you." 
 
116 THE OLD ABBEY OF FOWRE. 
 
 THE OLD ABBEY OF FOWKE. 
 
 x^ N the central part of Ireland are the remains of an an- 
 cient Abbey which is well worthy the attention of 
 those who take pleasure in examining relics of anti- 
 quity, and wandering among the ruins of former days. 
 ■\ With those mementoes Ireland abounds. Castles, round 
 
 ^ ' towers, monasteries, or ancient churches, are to be met with 
 in almost every country, their ivy-covered ruins arresting the 
 attention of the traveler, and inviting him to stop and make ac- 
 quaintance with those venerable survivors of past ages. 
 
 Connected with those ruins are legends and stories innumerable, 
 which the superstitious and imaginative peasantry have received 
 by tradition from their forefathers, and relate with a full convic- 
 tion of their authenticity. These foolish legends embrace pots of 
 gold, buried under ground within the walls of old castles, over 
 which cocks have been heard to crow at certain hours of the 
 night ; mysterious boxes, found on the summit of mountains, the 
 covers of which no mortal hand dare raise, without suffering the 
 penalty of instantaneous death ; celebrated trunks of trees, by em- 
 bracing which serious evils may be averted ; and cavities in rocks 
 approached at the risk of life, but which, having once succeeded in 
 reaching, will purchase for the adventurer a safe guard through 
 some of the most imminent dangers to which humanity is subject. 
 
 The ancient name of Fowre was Balogne, or the town of books, 
 the Abbey having at one time possessed one of the most extensive 
 libraries of the olden times, both in print and manuscript, from 
 which it derived its name. The town is approached through a 
 mountain pass, and is surrounded by a natural fortification of not 
 inconsiderable hills. 
 
 The place where the Abbey stands, which, with its chapel, mon- 
 astery, and other buildings, covers about two square acres, is lit- 
 erally a large table rock in the centre of a bog or morass, and 
 
THE OLD ABBEY OF FOWRE. 117 
 
 only accessible by a narrow road made of broken fragments from 
 the neighboring rocks. The architecture of those buildings is con- 
 sidered to be admirable, and constructed with such strength and 
 durability, as to be for some time formidable even to the devas- 
 tating army of Cromwell. Even now it presents one of the finest 
 specimens of monastic ruins. What remains of the walls is cov- 
 ered with ivy, but through its beautiful dark green foliage the 
 east windows can be plainly traced. The stone staircase is still p<^r- 
 fect, and here and there, in .its windings, leads to dark, square, tun- 
 nel-shaped chambers, reaching from top to bottom of the building, 
 and seeming to have been intended as places of confinement. 
 
 Tradition relates that this Abbey was, in ancient times, made the 
 stopping-place for all the religious orders as they traveled from the 
 metropolis towards the west, being situated about mid-way. From 
 its castelated walls they could look out in security during troublous 
 times, till a favorable opportunity for departure should occur. 
 
 Among those who came to make a pilgrimage to this sacred 
 retreat was, it is said, the celebrated Saint Cuthbert. When he 
 had arrived at a certain distance from the Abbey, the first toll of 
 the vesper bell sounded in his ear ; whereupon he immediately fell 
 upon his knees, to perform his devotions, the marks of which, we 
 are told with great gravity, are still visible, being two hollow in- 
 dentations on which no grass since then has been ever known to 
 grow. Great virtue is attached to kneeling in the identical spot, 
 which of course has attracted great numbers ; and one poor wo- 
 man was seen by a passer-by, endeavoring with the utmost precis- 
 ion to place herself on those knee-marks, for the purpose of avert- 
 ing some anticipated evil. 
 
 St. Kevin was another of those worthies for which the " Queen 
 Isle" was at one time so famed, and was probably included in the 
 list of pilgrims to the Abbey. It is recorded of him, among many 
 other things strange and wonderful, that having at one time re- 
 treated to a little hut in the desert, to enjoy meditation, reading, 
 and prayer, and while engaged in an act of devotion before an 
 open window, having raised his hand towards heaven, a black bird 
 perched upon it, and deposited her eggs in the open palm. The 
 compassionate saint pitied the bird, and neither closed nor drew in 
 
118 THE OLD ABBEY OF FOWKE. 
 
 his hand, till the season of hatching arrived, and the young brood 
 had emerged from their shells. This act of benevolence has been 
 transmitted to posterity by the images of St. Kevin being repre- 
 sented with an extended hand, and a bird sitting on it. Is it 
 not strange that such ridiculous stories as these should find any- 
 body stupid enough to believe them ? 
 
 Pigeons are now the only inhabitants of this once famed build- 
 ing, who find in its ruins an undisturbed retreat, and flock there 
 in great abundance. 
 
 There are what the neighboring peasantry call " four wonders" 
 connected with the ancient town of Fowre — an abbey in a bog, a 
 mill without a mill stream, an anchorite cell, and water that will 
 never boil. This last wonder is so fully believed, that to put it 
 to the test would be considered an act of sacrilege. A young lady, 
 who requested a bottle from her guide to carry home some of 
 the water, for the purpose of proving the truth, or rather the 
 falsehood of the assertion, was looked upon as an unbelieving here- 
 tic, and the guide went so far as to say, " Troth, Miss, if you were 
 to do such a thing, you would never have a day's luck after." 
 This unboilable water is found in a beautifully transparent well, in 
 the limestone rock on which the Abbey stands. 
 
 Near the entrance of the causeway leading to the monastery is 
 a mountain, presenting an almost perpendicular face, from a small 
 fissure in which bursts forth a gushing torrent of water. Under 
 the mouth of this stream a simple mill was once constructed which, 
 contrary to all modern improvements in machinery, had but one 
 wheel horizontally placed, having the grinding-stones in the upper 
 end of the shaft. The stream has its origin in a beautiful lake, 
 surrounded by mountains about three miles distant, from whence, 
 having forced a subterranean passage through the rock, without 
 being at all visible at the lake side, it rushed through the before- 
 mentioned fissure, and turned the wheel of the old-fashioned mill 
 which ground the corn, in centuries gone by, for the solitary in- 
 mates of the monastery. 
 
 The mill, like its other dependencies, has fallen into total ruin ; 
 but the stream still finds its way through its dark and hidden 
 passage in the rock, and falls with a deep murmuring sound, un- 
 
THE OLD ABBEY OF FOWRE. 119 
 
 heeded at its foot — a voice from the past, a speaking memento of 
 other days. 
 
 The anchorite cell, where have been known to dwell, for many 
 years, two or three successive hermits, is a natural cavity high up 
 in the rock, immediately over the mill. There, in his eyry-like 
 abode, having reached the summit of superstitious ambition, he 
 could slumber within sound of the busy wheel as it performed its 
 unceasing revolutions, and wake at the tumbling fall of the moun- 
 tain stream to renew his pharisaical devotions, when the morning 
 sun had lighted up the walls of the rocky dwelling-place, 
 
 •'Where at the last his ■weary age 
 Found out a peaceful hermitage, 
 The hairy gown, and mossy cell, 
 Where he could sit and nightly spell, 
 O'er every star the sky doth show, 
 And every herb that sips the dew." 
 
 The ground beneath the rock has, since the desertion of the her- 
 mitage, been occupied as a burying -place, which adds additional 
 sanctity to the neighborhood. 
 
 A tragedy, dark and dreadful, was once acted near this spot, 
 the circumstances of which are still fresh in the memory of one 
 whose relatives aided, among others, to bring the perpetrators of 
 it to justice. 
 
 A yearly fair was held near the old Abbey, which attracted many 
 from the neighboring towns. Among the number was a pedler, 
 who seemed to have arrived at some respectability as a man of 
 wealth. On his return homewards, he stopped at the house of a 
 small farmer, where he obtained lodgings for the night, having 
 traveled with his own horse. The family of his host consisted of 
 the owner of the house, his wife, and a little grand-child. The at- 
 tention of this child was, no doubt, attracted by the new guest, and 
 the tempting display of his merchandise. What, then, must have 
 been her dismay, when, looking out from her little bed during the 
 night, while she was supposed asleep, she saw her wretched pa- 
 rents sever the head of the poor pedler from his body, and carry it 
 between them to a little garden adjoining the house. 
 
120 BOOKS m OLD TIMES. 
 
 His family not seeing him return at the time expected, became 
 alarmed, and set out in search of him. They at length traced him 
 to the house where he had stopped for the night, but both the 
 farmer and his wife persisted in denying that he had ever been 
 there ; and they were obliged to leave the house without obtaining 
 any information with respect to their missing relative. In passing, 
 however, near the stable, the son recognised a part of his father's 
 saddle, which had been imperfectly covered with straw. This 
 aroused their suspicions, and they immediately went to the nearest 
 magistrate, where, after giving information, they were accompanied 
 by him, and several other persons, to the suspected house. The 
 man. and his wife were immediately taken into custody, and a 
 search commenced, which for some time proved fruitless. The 
 little child suspecting the object of their visit, related what she had 
 seen, and directed them to the garden. There, under a tree where 
 the ground had been lately disturbed, they dug, and to their hor- 
 ror discovered the body of the murdered man. The old man and 
 wife, finding that their guilt had been made known by their own 
 grandchild, made an open confession of their crime, and soon 
 afterwards suffered the just penalty of the law. a. m. r. 
 
 BOOKS IN OLD TIMES. 
 
 During the thirteenth century, so scarce and precious were 
 the manuscript books, that it sometimes happened that if a re- 
 ligious council were assembled, and wanted to consult the works 
 of the Fathers, they had to send to a considerable distance to 
 borrow them at much expense, giving a heavy security for their 
 safe return. The works of eminent medical men were so rarely 
 to be met with, that on one occasion, when a king of France 
 wished to possess a copy of the writings of Baize, a celebrated 
 Arabian physician, the faculty of medicine of Paris would not lend 
 it even to the monarch without pledges. 
 
THE ARABIAN CONQUEST OF PERSIA. 
 
 121 
 
 1^ 
 
 
 THE AKABIAN CONQUEST OF PERSIA. 
 
 ONE of the strangest events chronicled in history is the advent of 
 Mahometanism. The religion of the false prophet entered the 
 world in the year of our Lord 569. It seemed then a very insig- 
 nificant affair. It was generally believed that the thing would 
 speedily die out. But like the fires in our western prairies, it spread 
 in an almost inconceivably brief time over a great portion of Asia. 
 The introduction of this religion into Persia is most astonishing. 
 The Persians, you know, were formerly fire-worshipers. The first 
 intelligence of the religion of Mahomet, it would seem, reached 
 Persia in the reign of Khosrou. On the banks of the river Kar.-isu, 
 that monarch received, from an unknown person calling himsolf 
 ^^ Mahomet, the camel-driver of Mecca,''' a letter commanding him 
 
 VOL. V. 6 MR 
 
122 THE ARABIAN CONQUEST OF PERSIA. 
 
 to abjure the errors of that faith in which his fathers had lived, 
 and to embrace the religion of the only true God, whose prophet 
 Mahomet declared himself to be. Indignant at a message so in- 
 sulting, the king tore the letter, and threw its fragments into the 
 passing stream. The Mahometan historian who records this fact, 
 is certain that all the miseries which embittered the last years of 
 Khosrou were owing to this sacrilegious deed. He asserts, also, 
 that the waters of the river, which till then had supplied the 
 means of irrigation to a large extent of country, shrank in horror 
 into their present deep and scanty channel, where, he observes, they 
 have ever since remained useless and accursed. 
 
 The first invasion of Persia by the Arabs was during the reign of 
 the Khalif Omar, who commanded one of his generals, Abu 
 Obeyd, to cross the Euphrates. The first rencounter was furious ; 
 but the Arabian chief lost the victory by his imprudent courage. 
 He observed a white elephant in the centre of the Persian host, 
 and toward this animal, which he deemed the object of their su- 
 perstition, he fought his way with irresistible valor, and, by one 
 blow of his cimeter, struck ofi" his trunk. Maddened with pain, the 
 furious animal rushed upon his assailant, and trampled him to 
 death. The Arabs, dispirited by the loss of their leader, fled in 
 confusion. In another attempt to penetrate into Persia, they were 
 again defeated ; but this success encouraged the Persians to enter 
 upon a third action, in which they were overthrown. They now 
 ascribed their ill success to the incompetency of their sovereigns. 
 Ruler after ruler was dethroned and murdered, until the elevation 
 of Yezdijird, which gave a momentary hope to the falling nation. 
 He proposed a negotiation to the Arabian commander, and the 
 following conversation took place between the king and the Ma- 
 hometan ambassador : 
 
 " We have always held you," said Yezdijird, " in the lowest 
 estimation. You Arabs have hitherto been known in Persia 
 either as merchants or as beggars. Your food is green lizards, 
 your drink salt water, your clothes hair-cloth. But lately you 
 have come in large numbers to Persia ; you have tasted good food ; 
 you have drunk sweet water ; you have worn good clothes. You 
 have told your countrymen of these things, and they are flocking 
 
THE ARABIAN CONQUEST OF PERSIA. 123 
 
 hither to partake of them. But, not satisfied with all that you have 
 thus obtained, you wish to force a new religion upon us. You ap- 
 pear to me like the fox of our fable, who went into a garden where 
 he found plenty of grapes. The generous gardener would not dis- 
 turb a poor, hungry fox ; but the animal, not content with eating 
 his fill, went and brought all the other foxes into the garden ; and 
 the indulgent owner was forced to kill them to save himself from 
 ruin. However, as I am satisfied that you have been impelled by 
 want, I will not only pardon you, but load your camels with wheat 
 and dates, that when you return you may feast your countrymen. 
 But if you are insensible to my generosity, and continue to remain 
 here, you shall not escape my just vengeance." 
 
 To this the chief ambassador of the Arabs replied, " What you 
 have said of the former condition of the Arabs is true. Their food 
 was green lizards ; they buried their infant daughters alive ; nay, 
 some of them feasted on dead carcasses and drank blood ; they 
 robbed and murdered, and knew not good from evil. Such was 
 our state. But God in his mercy has sent us, by a holy prophet, a 
 sacred volume which teaches us the true faith. By this we are 
 commanded to war against infidels. We now solemnly require 
 you to receive our religion. If you consent, not an Arab shall en- 
 ter Persia without your permission, and our leaders will only de- 
 mand the established taxes which all believers must pay. If you 
 do not accept our religion, you are required to pay the tribute fixed 
 for infidels. If you reject both these propositions, you must pre- 
 pare for war." 
 
 Soon after this interview, a furious battle ensued between the 
 Arabs and Persians, in which the latter were defeated. The booty 
 obtained by the invaders in this victory, and the sack of the city 
 of Modayn, which immediately followed, was immense ; and the 
 naked robbers of the desert were enriched by the possession of 
 wealth far beyond their comprehension. Silver they had seen ; but 
 gold was a metal of which they knew not the value ; and the ig- 
 norant Arabs went round with their plunder, saying, " I will give 
 any quantity of this yellow metal for a little that is white." 
 
 Yezdijird, notwithstanding this severe defeat, found means to 
 assemble another army. The Arabian khalif sent reinforcements 
 
124 THE ARABIAN CONQUEST OF PERSIA. 
 
 into Persia, intrusting the command of the whole army to a chief 
 called Noman, with orders to destroy forever the impious worship 
 of fire. On the plains of Nahavund the two armies continued in 
 sight of each other for two months. The Persians were determined 
 not to quit their intrenchments, and the zeal of the Arab leader 
 became impatient of delay. He drew up his army in order of 
 battle, and thus addressed them : " My friends, prepare yourselves 
 to conquer or to drink the sweet sherbet of martyrdom. I shall 
 now cry, ' God is great,' three times. At the first cry you will 
 gird up your loins ; at the second, mount your steeds ; at the third, 
 point your lances, and rush to victory, or to paradise. As for me, 
 I shall be a martyr." 
 
 Without a pause, the fanatical leader sounded the war-cry. At 
 the second call every man was upon his horse ; and at the third, 
 which was repeated by the whole army, the Mahometans charged 
 with a fury that was irresistible. Noman was slain, as he had pre- 
 dicted ; but his army gained a decisive and memorable victory. 
 Thirty thousand Persians were pierced by their lances ; eighty 
 thousand more were drowned in the deep trench by which they 
 had surrounded their camp. Their general, with four thousand 
 men, fled to the hills ; but such was the terror on one hand, and 
 confidence on the other, that he was pursued, defeated, and slain, 
 by a body of not more than a thousand men. 
 
 The battle of Nahavund decided the fate of Persia, which now 
 fell under the dominion of the Arabian khalifs. Yezdijird wan- 
 dered for several years up and down the country, and at last fled 
 to the city of Meru, on the northern frontier of the kingdom. The 
 governor of that place invited a neighboring Tartar chief to seize 
 the person of the fugitive monarch. He accepted the otter, entered 
 Meru, and made himself master of the city. Yezdijird escaped on 
 foot, during the contest between the Tartars and the inhabitants. 
 He reached a mill a i^vi miles from Meru, and, by the present of 
 his rich sword and belt, prevailed upon the miller to conceal him. 
 But this person, tempted by the valuable robes and other equip- 
 ments of his guest, murdered the unfortunate monarch in his sleep, 
 and threw the corpse into the mill-stream. The governor of Meru, 
 in a few days, began to suflfer from the tyranny of the Tartars, and 
 
THE BELL-KINGER. 125 
 
 the inhabitants, seizing their arms, expelled the invaders from the 
 city. A diligent inquiry was made after Yezdijird, and his fate 
 was soon known. The treacherous miller fell a victim to popular 
 rage, and the corpse of the monarch was embalmed, and sent to 
 Istakhar, to be entombed in the sepulchre of his ancestors. Thus 
 ended the religion of the Magians, as a national faith, and since that 
 period Mahometanism has prevailed in Persia. 
 
 THE BELL-EmGER. 
 
 AN inhabitant of the mad-house at Zurich, who was rather af- 
 flicted by imbecility than by madness, was allowed his liberty, 
 which he never misused. His happiness was confined solely to 
 ringing the bells of the parish church. But when he grew old, 
 whether he really grew less capable of filling this august function, 
 or whether the jealousies and intrigues that reign in republics pene- 
 trate even to their hospitals, the poor creature was deprived of his 
 employment. This stroke plunged him into the utmost despair, 
 but without making any complaints, he sought the master of the 
 great works, and said to him, with that sublime tranquillity which 
 is inspired by a determined resolution : " I come, sir, to ask a favor 
 of you. I used to ring the bells. It was the only thing in the 
 world in which I could make myself useful ; and they will not let 
 me do it any longer. Do me the pleasure, then, of cutting oft' my 
 head ; I cannot do it myself, or I would spare you the trouble." 
 At the same time he placed himself in an attitude to receive the favor 
 he solicited. The magistrate to whom this scene was related was 
 extremely touched by it, and determined to recompense the desire 
 of being useful, even in the lowest of the citizens. The man was 
 re-established in his former honors, some assistance only being ren- 
 dered him in case it should be wanted ; and he died ringing the 
 bells. 
 
126 GIUSEPPE GARIBALDI. 
 
 R 
 
 GIUSEPPE GAEIBALDI. 
 
 ARiBALDi was One of tbe most prominent of the revolu- 
 tionary leaders in the Italian struggles of 1848. 
 While in Rome, I had an opportunity of conversing with 
 several of the people who were acquainted with his move- 
 ments, and all gave him credit for very great heroism, 
 though as to his being a disinterested patriot, the opinion 
 ''' f varied. It is diflScult foi* us, with such a knowledge of the 
 circumstances as we can arrive at, to decide how much of ambition 
 there was concealed in his measures. There was some, doubtless ; 
 yet we cannot help wishing that he and his party had had an op- 
 portunity of trying their experiment with the Romans. It was a 
 pity, I think, that the French had not staid at home, instead of 
 meddling with matters at Rome. 
 
 Giuseppe Garibaldi was born about the year 1812, at Nice, a 
 small city on the shores of the Mediterranean, where his father 
 followed the occupation of a mariner. The son was brought up a 
 sailor. The principles of liberty, on which he afterwards acted, 
 were instilled into his mind early in life, by his parents. Parke 
 Godwin, who has taken much pains to inform himself respecting 
 the early history of the patriot, says that it was one of the boy's 
 chief delights to read the early history of his country, and that in 
 this exercise he was filled with a desire to rival his heroic ances- 
 try. During one of the voyages which he made in prosecuting his 
 profession, he went to Rome. There, amid the monuments of her 
 former splendor and greatness, he conceived the idea, he informs 
 us, of endeavoring to raise her from her degradation. When told 
 that a society of Italians was already in being, who had devoted 
 their lives to the same work, the discovery filled him with joy. 
 Columbus, he says, could not have been so happy when the new 
 world first rose upon his vision. He eagerly enrolled himself 
 
) 
 
 PORTBAIT OK GARIBALDI. 
 
GIUSEPPE GARIBALDI. 129 
 
 among their number, and when the uprising of 1834 took place, 
 be became a prominent actor in those eventful scenes. 
 
 But the movement proved disastrous in its results, and Gari- 
 baldi, among others, was condemned to die. He made his escape, 
 however, by sea, and finally succeeded in making the coast of 
 France, whence he took passage in a friendly vessel to Brazil. 
 There he engaged in naval services, and distinguished himself in 
 several dangerous encounters. It was in this country that he mar- 
 ried a lady of heroic character, who followed him in all his sub- 
 sequent fortunes, until her death. 
 
 In 1848, when the revolutions in Italy commenced. Garibaldi 
 returned to his native land. He arrived in Rome in time to as- 
 sist Mazzini, Avezzaua, and others, in their earlier efforts to organ- 
 ize the Republic. He was appointed the general of a body known 
 as the Legion, which was composed of the most accomplished 
 military men belonging to the liberal party. Soon after his ap- 
 pointment, France stepped in to assist the Pope in recovering 
 his temporal power. The heroism of Garibaldi and his legion is 
 spoken of as almost unparalleled in the military annals of the 
 present century. For myself, not professing to have much taste 
 in the details of human butchery, I am content to let that statement 
 pass without debate. Time and again, during the memorable siege 
 of Rome, Garibaldi and his men sallied beyond the city walls to 
 attack their enemies in their entrenchments. But they had to con- 
 tend against fearful odds. The walls were at length broken down. 
 The French entered. Still the patriots sustained the shock of as- 
 sault, day after day, with cool perseverance. At last, when the 
 rest of the city was compelled to surrender. Garibaldi and his sol- 
 diers refused to lay down their arms. They resolved to force their 
 way to a place of refuge. Their leader's speech on that occasion is 
 characteristic. " Soldiers," he said, " in recompense of the love 
 you may show your country, I offer you hunger, thirst, cold, war, 
 and death. Who accepts the terms, let him follow me !" The 
 pGor fellows followed him to a man. 
 
 The retreat was full of peril, but it was gallantly conducted. 
 The object of this band, in quitting Rome, was to reach Venice in 
 time to assist her against the bombardment of the Austrians. All 
 
 VOL. V. 6* MR 
 
180 WELLINGTON AND THE MANIAC. 
 
 the way they were harassed by hostile troops ; but the people se- 
 cretly sent them supplies. In crossing the Apennines they had the 
 most desperate encounters. When they reached Bergo, near San 
 Marino, ten thousand Austrians closed around them. Then they 
 found it necessary to disband, and each one sought shelter for him- 
 self. Even then large numbers clung to Garibaldi. Among them 
 was Signora Anna, his devoted wife, w4io would not, on any ac- 
 count, be separated from her husband. From some port on the 
 Mediterranean, having seized several vessels, the remnant of the 
 corps of Garibaldi set out by sea towards Venice. But the little 
 fleet was scattered. Some were never heard of again. Only two 
 or three of the vessels succeeded in reaching the land near the 
 mouth of the Po. There the wife of Garibaldi died, overcome with 
 exhaustion and fatigue. Garibaldi himself, now almost alone, in 
 some way made his escape to Genoa, and thence sailed to this 
 country. 
 
 WELLINGTON AND THE MANIAC. 
 
 SOME years since, the Duke of Wellington was sitting at his 
 library table, when the door opened, and, without any an- 
 nouncement, in stalked a figure of singularly ill omen. 
 
 " Wlio're you ?" asked the Duke, in his short, dry manner, look- 
 ing up without the least change of countenance, upon the intruder. 
 
 " I am Apollyon." 
 
 " What do you want ?" 
 
 " I am sent to kill you." 
 
 " Kill me— very odd." 
 
 " I am Apollyon, and I must put you to death." 
 
 " 'Bliged to do it to-day ?" 
 
 " I am not told the day or tlie hour, but I must do my mission." 
 
 " Very inconvenient — very busy — great many letters to write — 
 call again, and write me word — I'll be ready for you." And the 
 Duke went on with his correspondence. 
 
 The maniac, appalled probably by the stern, unmovable old man, 
 backed out of the room, and in half an hour was safe in Bedlam. 
 
AN UNPROFITABLE CUSTOMER. 
 
 131 
 
 AN UNPEOFITABLE CUSTOMEE. 
 
 E met an odd but intelligent 
 
 old 
 
 gentleman one 
 -who seized our 
 
 day — says a New York journal 
 arm, and said, " My young friend, I am in 
 trouble ; I do a small business, you know, a very small 
 business, but it is intended to be a cash business in every 
 item. No man can say that I owe him a cent, and no 
 man owes me with my consent. But here is a customer 
 who Jews me out of money enough in the course of a year, to sup- 
 port a wife, or bring up a family of children. 
 
 We began to be alarmed, and inquired if possibly we had ne- 
 glected to cash the purchases M'e made at his store. 
 
 " No, no, it is not of you, of course. But see what the villain 
 has taken, and never paid a cent for ! He took an umbrella last 
 night. He took my pocket knife yesterday morning. He took 
 my purse and all its contents, this morning. 
 
 " Why this is no customer — but a thief. He belongs on Black- 
 well's Island ; you have grossly mistaken his title." 
 
 " No, no," he replied, " he is respectable ; he is in a handsome 
 house ; he associates well. He borrowed your gold pencil last 
 week, and wore your watch to hear the Webster eulog}'. He 
 talked with your wife at the church door after Thackeray's lecture, 
 while you run oflf with your friend, and run on about the lec- 
 ture." 
 
 " Why, who is the rascal — he deserves to be caned ?" 
 " Don't use hard language," he replied, " for he boasts you as 
 one of his friends, aye, and your wife, too. I have seen in his pos- 
 session her breast-pin — keep cool — and her marriage ring. He 
 did not steal it, either." 
 
 " Tell me the villain's name. He shall pay for his impudence." 
 
132 THE SHARK AND THE TURTLE. 
 
 " Ah," said he, " there you mistake agaiu. He never pays. 
 But I'll show you his name." And drawing us nearer the gas 
 light, he opened his book of memoranda, and pointed to the word, 
 written in great capitals — the meanest of all debtors — forg""""' 
 
 NESS. 
 
 THE SHAKK AND THE TURTLE. 
 
 THE author of " The Voyage to India," a late English work, thus 
 describes a combat which he once witnessed in the Straits of 
 Malacca, between a shark and a turtle : " One day, while lying 
 at anchor and whistling for a breeze, the steward rushed in with 
 the strange announcement that a shark and a turtle were engaged 
 in a fight alongside. Doubtful and amazed at the account of so 
 unusual and unequal a combat, we all rushed on deck ; and there, 
 sure enough, we saw an immense shark and a turtle of venerable 
 antiquity, if one might judge by his size and the profusion of 
 barnacles and other parasites with which he was decorated. With- 
 out respect for his age and quaker-like habits, the shark made 
 furious charges at poor turtle, who opposed the dangerous jaws 
 of the enemy with the full front of his back, on which no im- 
 pression could be made. On one occasion the turtle did not turn 
 sharply enough, which cost him the greater part of one unlucky 
 flipper. Indignant at the perversion of such aldermanic banquet 
 to the voracious and indiscriminating appetite of a shark, our 
 skipper intervened with a harpoon, but with such ill-judged aim, 
 that it fell butt-end foremost, instead of on the point ; where- 
 upon, in our disappointment, we would gladly have pitched him 
 after it. It, however, answered the purpose of scaring away the 
 shark for a few moments, which the turtle made the most of to 
 scuttle oflf to the bottom, where he was safe from the attacks of 
 his ravenous admirer." 
 
A CUNNINa HORSE. 
 
 188 
 
 A CUNNmG HOESE. 
 
 jT the close of the revolutionary war, when everything 
 was unsettled and in disorder, a man lost a valuable 
 young horse, stolen from the stable in the night. 
 A?;i|p^^^- Great search and inquiry were made for him, but 
 \ i/-;.fe no tidings of him could be heard, and no trace of him 
 *>^ could ever be discovered. 
 
 Almost six full years had now elapsed, and the recollection even 
 of the lost animal had nearly failed from the mind. At this pe- 
 riod a gentleman from the east, in the course of business, was trav- 
 eling on horseback towards Philadelphia. When within four or 
 five miles of a village on the road, the traveler was overtaken by 
 a respectable looking gentleman on horseback, a resident of the 
 village, returning home from a short business ride. Riding along 
 side by side, they soon engaged in pleasant desultory conversation. 
 The gentleman was immediately struck with the appearance of the 
 traveler's horse. And every glance of the eye cast towards him, 
 seemed to excite an interest and curiosity to look at him again, 
 and to revive a recollection of something he had seen before, and 
 soon established in his mind the impression that for all the world 
 he looked like the iorse he had lost some six years ago. This soon 
 became so irresistibly fixed in his mind, that he remarked to the 
 traveler — 
 
 " You have a fine horse, sir." 
 
 " Yes," he replied, " an exceedingly valuable animal." 
 
 " What is his age, sir ?" 
 
 " Well, I suppose him to be ten or eleven years old." 
 
 '' You did not raise him, then ?" 
 
 " No, I purchased him of a stranger, a traveler, nearly six years 
 since." 
 
 " Do you reside in this part of the country ?" 
 
134 A CUNNING HORSE. 
 
 " No, I reside in the Bay State, and am on ray way to Philadel- 
 phia on business. How far is it to New York ?" 
 
 " Why, sir, I really regret to interrupt you, or put you to any 
 inconvenience, but I am constrained to say I believe you have in 
 your possession a horse tKat I must claim." 
 
 The traveler looked withr^urprise and amazement, and replied, 
 
 " What do you mean, sir ?" 
 
 " I believe the horse you are on in truth belongs to me. Five 
 years ago, the past autumn, a valuable young horse was stolen from 
 my stable. Great search was made for him, but no tidings of him 
 ever came to hand. In color, appearance, and movements, it seems 
 to me he was the exact counterpart of the horse you are on. It 
 would be hardly possible, I think, for two to be so near alike. 
 But my horse was an uncommonly intelligent and sagacious ani- 
 mal ; and I will make a proposition to you that will place the mat- 
 ter in such a position that the result will be conclusive and satis- 
 factory, I think, to both of us. We are now within a mile of my 
 residence, which is on the road, in the centre of the village before 
 us. When we arrive at my house, your horse shall be tied to the 
 east post in front of my door, and the horse I am on to the west 
 post. After standing a short time, the bridle of your horse shall 
 be taken off, and if he does not go to a pair of bars on the west 
 side of the house, and pass over, and go around to the east side of 
 the barn, and pull out a pin and open the stable door, I will not 
 claim him. If he does, I will furnish you conclusive evidence that 
 he was bred by me, but never sold — that he was stolen from me 
 just at the conclusion of the war, about the very time you say you 
 purchased him." 
 
 The traveler assented to the trial. The horse was hitched to the 
 post, as proposed, and stood a minute ; the bridle was then taken 
 oflf, when he raised his head, pricked up his ears, looked up the 
 street several times, and then deliberately and slowly walked past 
 the house and over the bars, and to the stable door, as described, 
 and with his teeth drew out the pin and opened the door, and en- 
 tered his old stall. We hardly need add that he was recognized by 
 the neighbors, who fully attested to the facts stated by the claimant, 
 and the traveler lost his title to the horse. 
 
!-«., 
 
 
 THE DISCONSOLATE CANARY BIRD, 
 
THE CANARY BIRD'S LOVE. 137 
 
 THE CANARY BIRD'S LOYB. 
 
 ^< 
 
 ROFEssioNAL engagements, a few summer's since, led me 
 repeatedly to a dwelling where I had an opportunity of 
 learning many curious things in the conduct of a canary, 
 '^ whom I shall call Quilla. Quilla was a chap who had had 
 ? a bit of experience in his day. Two or three years had 
 smiled upon his domestic enjoyment. He had a " little house 
 well filled, and a little wife well willed," who ate with him from 
 the same pile of seeds, washed in the same sparkling water, and par- 
 took freely of all his nick-nacks. The two birds were very happy. 
 Quilla was a splendid singer, and his partner was an accomplished 
 dancer. Their love was mutual and strong. 
 
 Quilla had many admirers, among whom was a lady of consid- 
 erable taste, who was a frequent visitor at the place. She listened 
 with pleasure to his animated and musical strains, and gazed with 
 admiration on his bright and golden plumage. .He was a model 
 bird ; and it was not long before this lady made a proposition for 
 an exchange of birds, which was accepted, and Quilla was duly in- 
 stalled in his new relations. He looked sad and was silent. Mel- 
 ancholy brooded over him. He bathed less frequently in the lim- 
 pid fountain. He ate more sparingly of the delicacies placed before 
 him. The brilliant hues of his feathers faded, and the charm of 
 his life seemed vanished. Had he understood English, it was evi- 
 dent he would have said, 
 
 "Thou "bringest me viands, thou askeat for songs; 
 Bring haci: the love that I've lost." 
 
 In the canary dialect he doubtless did utter his plaint of wo. His 
 mistress thought it a bird-freak, and flattered herself that he would 
 soon cease to mourn over the dissolution of his former ties, and be 
 himself again. But she did not know the heart of the bird. 
 Days and weeks came and went, and there was silence in the tent 
 
188 THE CANARY BIRD'S LOVE. 
 
 of Quilla ; and the fear began to be entertained that he would 
 pass the remainder of his days in sadness and sorrow, and that the 
 spell of song would come over him no more. Expedients for rous- 
 ing the fire of music in him were proposed. 
 
 " They "bid him seek in change of scene the charms that others see." 
 
 They took him to hear the best canary singing, hoping thus to kin- 
 dle his enthusiasm and unseal the fount of melody within. 
 
 Near by dwelt a loving pair of his race, called Dick and Dora. 
 Dick was master of his art, and Dora performed in the dance with 
 a degree of elegance that any bird might envy. They hung his 
 cage, which contained himself and partner, near to Dick's. Dick 
 sang and Dora danced ; but the song and the dance seemed only 
 a mockery of his grief In this way a number of months passed. 
 The wild gush of song was circling around Quilla, but it woke no 
 echo in his disconsolate bosom. The truth was, he could not sing 
 if he would, and he would not if he could. This expedient failed, 
 and he was removed to the house of his mistress. 
 
 After this, another cage was brought, and his uncongenial mate 
 was placed in it, and Quilla had his house all to himself Still he 
 was silent. Would he never sing again ? Weeks passed, and he 
 raised no note — pitched no tune. Another thought struck his mis- 
 tress, and the other cage was placed in a position where he could 
 not see it, and he had no means of knowing that the other party 
 to this forced alliance longer lived ; and then, after a little while, 
 he woke once more, in all its fulness, the song of other days ; and 
 yet, when he was sweeping on in full cadence, if the other cage 
 was placed in sight, he would immediately relapse into his former 
 mood. After a long time, however, he yielded an inch or two more, 
 so far as to sing in sight of the other cage, and then when both 
 cages were placed on the same table ; and at last he yielded so 
 far as to enter the cage of the other bird and sing, when the pas- 
 sage between the two cages was kept open ; but he would not sing 
 if he was shut in. He would go in as a visitor, and warble some 
 favorite air ; but in no case would he sanction, by his conduct, the 
 idea that he was there on any other terms. 
 
WHAT YOUNG MEN HAVE DONE. 139 
 
 Reader, was not this a noble bird ? He would not, of his own 
 accord, leave a dear, tried, faithful friend. If forced to do so, he 
 would cherish the memory of that friend to the last. viator. 
 
 WHAT YOOTTG MEN HAYE DOISTE. 
 
 THE idea is prevalent in some communities, that the young men 
 are unfit for generals or statesmen, and that they must be 
 kept in the background until their physical strength is impaired 
 by age, and their intellectual faculties blunted by years. Let us 
 look at the history of the past, and from the long list of heroes 
 and statesmen who have nobly distinguished themselves, we will 
 find that they were young men who performed those acts which 
 have won for them an imperishable meed of fame, and which placed 
 their names on the page of history. Alexander, the conqueror of 
 the whole civilized world, namely, Greece, Egypt, and Asia, died at 
 thirty-three. Bonaparte was crowned Emperor of France when 
 thirty-three years of age. Pitt, the younger brother, was thirty- 
 three years of age, when in Britain's Parliament he boldly advo- 
 cated the cause of the American colonies ; and but twenty-two when 
 made Chancellor of the Exchequer. Edmund Burke, at the age of 
 twenty-five, was the First Lord of the Treasury. Our own Wash- 
 ington was but twenty-five when he covered the retreat of the 
 British at Braddock's defeat, and was appointed to be commander- 
 in-chief of all the Virginia forces. Alexander Hamilton, at twenty, 
 was a Lieutenant Colonel and aid to Washington ; at twenty-five, a 
 member of Congress ; and stl thirty-two, Secretary of the Treasury. 
 Thomas Jeff'erson was but twenty-three when he drafted the ever- 
 memorable Declaration of Independence. At the age of thirty 
 years. Sir Isaac Newton occupied the mechanical chair at Cam- 
 bridge College, England, having by his scientific discoveries ren- 
 dered his name immortal. 
 
140 
 
 EIHTORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 EDITOEIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 OME explanation respecting our advertising depart- 
 ment may not be out of place. Formerly, when our 
 edition was comparatively small, our advertising pa- 
 tronage was inconsiderable. Now, however, that our 
 list has become more extensive than any similar magazine 
 published in the country, advertisers find it for their inter- 
 est to resort more generally to our pages. We wish to say, once 
 and for all, that neither the editor nor publisher must be understood 
 to endorse all that appears in these advertisements. We cannot 
 take it upon ourselves to exclude the advertisement of everything 
 which does not square with our notions. That would be an un- 
 warrantable censorship. One thing, however, we always mean to 
 do : to exclude advertisements of any article whatever, let it ema- 
 nate from what quarter it may, if its influence is known or believed 
 to be positively pernicious, in a moral point of view. More than 
 this we cannot undertake to do. Our patrons embrace classes of 
 widely diverse opinions. It is no more than justice to them, that 
 we should bring before the eyes of all of them the statements, of 
 our different advertisers. No one (provided we do not give cur- 
 rency to immoral productions) is harmed by such an insertion. 
 Everybody, of course, is left at liberty to judge for himself, as to 
 the merits or demerits of the wares advertised. If we have ever 
 transgressed the rule we have laid down for the exclusion of adver- 
 tisements, it has been unwittingly, and we hope, with jealous care, 
 never to fall into a like error again. 
 
 " Uncle Frank, — Will you not tell us what is meant by the 
 sub-marine telegraph, and the underground railroad ? By so doing 
 you will much oblige Some of the Little Ones." 
 
 Well, listen, then. The electric telegraph wires between Paris 
 and London are enclosed in a tube, and this tube is conducted from 
 
EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 141 
 
 England to France on the bottom of that part of the English chan- 
 nel called the Strait of Dover. It is a great work, having cost an 
 immense sum of money. The " underground railroad" is quite a 
 different affair. The expression is what some of the older heads 
 call figurative, and is used, now and then, to indicate the sly and 
 covert manner by which the slaves of the South, who to better 
 their condition, by running away from their masters, travel towards 
 Canada. 
 
 WHO IS " MARK FORRESTER ?" 
 
 Under the sobriquet of " Mark Forrester," was formerly con- 
 ducted, in a very creditable manner, the Boys' and Girls' Maga- 
 zine. The magazine, in process of time, changed proprietors, and 
 M:.rk, by some means, was superseded in the editorial chair by 
 " Francis Forrester." Well, a short time since, this magazine con- 
 tained a letter, purporting to be from the original Mark, who 
 speaks in very complimentary terms of the manner in which his 
 cousin Frank is conducting the work, and wishes the publishers 
 God-speed. Thereat, a literary gentleman, an acquaintance of the 
 editor, takes exceptions, and writes to me the letter which follows. 
 Who is the genuine " Mark Forrester ?" Shall the public know, 
 or are they to be left on the rack as they have so long been about 
 the original Dr. Townsend ? 
 
 "Boston, Fehruarxj 17, 1854. 
 
 Dear Uncle Frank, — I have a favor to ask of you. I was 
 rather unceremoniously " unseated" as editor of Forrester's Boys' 
 and GirW Magazine, some twelve months since. Having origin- 
 ated the work, and labored zealously for five years to make it 
 worthy of the confidence of its patrons, I parted with it with regret ; 
 but as I had no remedy, I determined, like ' Cheerful Cherry,' to 
 make the best of it. Under these circumstances, you may judge of 
 my surprise at seeing in the January number for this year, a letter 
 purporting to have been written by me, in which I am made to 
 endorse the management of the Magazine during the year just 
 closed. Now, whatever I might have been willing to do, had I 
 been properly asked, I certainly do not wish to have my name used 
 to deceive my former friends. The letter in question was not writ- 
 
142 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 ten by me, but by some other person, entirely ivithout my knowl- 
 edge and consent. And I must express my regret that the publish- 
 ers of the work, having voluntarily closed my connection with it, 
 should have inserted a letter, whatever might be the motive, which, 
 it seems to me, must have borne on the face of it the evidence that 
 it was spurious. 
 
 Truly your friend, mark forrbster." 
 
 AN ITEM ABOUT NEBRASKA. 
 
 At this juncture, when there is so much talk about Nebraska, 
 perhaps a little piece of news which my brother, the publisher, has 
 to communicate, may be worth listening to. A gentleman, residing 
 in Nebraska, recently transmitted the names of ten subscribers to 
 the Cabinet, the parties all living in his neighborhood. 
 
 Here are some verses written by a girl not yet in her teens, I 
 knew her once, when she was four years old, but have not seen her 
 since. There is genius in the lines not always exhibited in riper 
 years. For the rest, they speak for themselves. They need no 
 editorial comment. 
 
 DIALOGUE BETWEEN A STAR AND FLOWER. 
 
 Star. 
 
 I dwell in the realms of boundless space, 
 
 My home is the deep blue sky ; 
 I shed my light on the angel's face 
 
 As swift he is gliding by; 
 And from the depths of boundless blue, 
 I silently twinkle o'er earth and you. 
 
 Flower. 
 
 I lovingly blossom below thy ray, 
 
 My home is the genial ground : 
 I flourish and wither, I blossom and fade 
 
 As the seasons roll quickly round ; 
 And to thy home far, far above 
 I lift my lowly head with love. 
 
EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 143 
 
 Star. 
 I watch with smiles the lovely flowers 
 
 On the earth so far beneath, 
 From the rose which blooms in yonder bowers 
 
 To the violet on the heath : 
 None are too lowly or too small, 
 But I lovingly twinkle over them all. 
 
 NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 1. Sanders'' School Headers. — Without desiring to disparage the 
 eflbrts of others who have prepared a series of reading books for 
 schools — and there are several such who have succeeded happily 
 in this task — I cannot help speaking approvingly of the contribu- 
 tions in this branch of elementary instruction of Mr. Charles W. 
 Sanders. He has been long and laboriously engaged in this de- 
 partment. Some years since, as the public need not be told, this 
 gentleman brought out a series of readers, some five in number, 
 which have enjoyed an immense popularity ; and he has just is- 
 sued a new series of five books, which, from the examination I have 
 been able to give them, I judge are even more worthy of the pub- 
 lie favor than the first. I notice, too, that they are spoken of in 
 the highest terms by a large number of teachers, whose judgment, 
 of course, is worth more than my own. Both series are published 
 by Messrs. Ivison & Phinney, of this city. 
 
 Phillips, Sampson & Co. have issued several small volumes re- 
 cently, admirably adapted to the entertainment and moral improve- 
 ment of the young, which I can cordially recommend. They are 
 
 2. Little Mary ; or^ Talks and Tales for Children. By H. 
 Trusta, autlior of "' Sunny Side." 
 
 3. Little Blossorn's Reward. By Mrs. Emily Ware. 
 
 4. Holidays at Chestnut Hill. By Cousin Mary. 
 
 5. Nonuntum and Natick is the title of a very entertaining and 
 instructive book about the Massachusetts Indians. It is written by 
 Sarah S. Jacobs, and published by the Massachusetts Sabbath 
 School Society. The pictures in it are well executed and strikingly 
 illustrative. 
 
 6. The Boy^s Own Guide to Good Principles, Habits, and Man- 
 
144 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 ners. — The same Society also publish this volume, from the pen of 
 my esteemed and gifted friend, William Simonds, one of the edi- 
 tors of the " New England Farmer." I should rejoice to hear that 
 the book had an immense circulation. It is highly worthy of such 
 honor. It will carry a blessing with it wherever it goes. 
 
 1. The Humorous Speaker, This is a choice collection of 
 amusing pieces, in prose and poetry, for the use of schools. It 
 purports to emanate from Oliver Oldham, who has done his work 
 well, whoever he be. It is published by Messrs. Ivison & Phinney. 
 
 BUSINESS NOTICES. 
 
 Among the hotels of the first rank in Boston, is the Adams^ 
 House. It is admirably managed, and every employe in the es- 
 tablishment seems desirous of pleasing the guests. It is in a cen- 
 tral locality, too, and business men will find it as convenient in this 
 respect, as any other. I have been always remarkably well used 
 at the Adams House, and can confidently recommend it to my 
 traveling friends. 
 
 The Columbia House, in Philadelphia, is equally worthy of pa- 
 tronage. The brothers Ferguson, whom I have known so long 
 and favorably, are no longer the proprietors ; but I was gratified 
 to perceive, on a recent visit to the city of brotherly love, that their 
 successors are conducting the establishment with the same regard 
 to the comfort of their guests. The Columbia House aff'ords the 
 traveler one of the cosiest, quietest retreats to be met with away 
 from home. 
 
 One of the most extensive manufacturing establishments in Ver- 
 mont, is at St. Johnsbury, the proprietors of which are the Messrs. 
 Fairbanks. Here are manufactured the celebrated Platform Scales, 
 the best article of the kind, so far as I have been able to judge, 
 at present in the market. All sizes of scales are made at this es- 
 tablishment. Their structure is the very simplest imaginable. If 
 that axiom in mechanics is true, that the more simple the machine, 
 the more perfect and valuable, (and I believe it is true,) I see not 
 how any other form of balance can successfully compete with this 
 of the Messrs. Fairbanks. 
 
EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 145 
 
 Mr. Hiram Anderson says that the rush threatens to be as for- 
 midable as ever this spring, at his great carpet establishment in the 
 Bowery. He considers it a notable fact, that the rush in this 
 quarter should appear so much earlier in the spring than the 
 rushes in the meadows, and desires scientific botanists and others 
 to look into the matter. His store is open for the purpose of 
 scientific or other investigations, at all reasonable hours every day, 
 except Sunday. 
 
 CHARADE NO. IV. 
 
 An animal rodent, 
 Though puny, yet potent, 
 My first for note aiming, 
 A name will be claiming. 
 
 Though article humble, 
 My second might grumble, 
 If one so much needed 
 Were passed by unheeded. 
 
 My whole in time olden. 
 O'er schoolboy w^as holden, 
 As sign from the master 
 Of coming disaster. 
 
 In these days enlightened. 
 Boys ne'er thus are frightened, 
 For moral persuasion 
 Suits this generation. 
 
 Yet mayhap, one wiser. 
 
 Some new-school despiser, 
 
 Could guess my name double, 
 
 Ne'er giving him trouble. laura. 
 
 UNCLE Frank's historical queries, no. hi. 
 
 21. Who was Frederick the Great ? when was he born ? and when 
 did he die ? 
 
 22. When did the Jews first appear in England ? 
 VOL. V. ^ 
 
146 EDITOKIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 23. When were coats of arms first used in England ? 
 
 24. When was the first newspaper published in Great Britain ? what 
 was it called ? 
 
 25. At what time did the translation of the Bible now in common use 
 among Protestants originate? under whose patronage and direction? 
 
 26. What was the Spanish Armada ? at what period in history does 
 it figure 1 and what was the result of it ? 
 
 27. Who, from a very humble origin, became Lord Mayor of London, 
 at three different elections? and when were the elections respec- 
 tively ? 
 
 28. When did the Turks take Constantinople 1 and what was the 
 result of this capture to the Roman empire ? 
 
 29. When was Lisbon, in Portugal, destroyed? and in what manner? 
 80. When were the Sandwich Islands discovered? and who was the 
 
 discoverer ? 
 
 anagrams of scripture proper names, no. ii. 
 
 1. His tar-pan. 3. Sea-garden. 
 
 2. Ship a hen. 4. Tame kid. s. e. w. 
 
 enigma no. III. 
 
 A teacup would hold me, but were I in such, I should feel T had 
 " taken a cup too much !" So you see I am small ; yet without me, I 
 ween, no beauty in nature could ever be seen. Do you wish that my 
 hue should distinctly be stated ? I am now of one color, I am now 
 variegated. In the whole world there is not an acre of ground where 
 my poor little person is not to be found — 
 
 " In the house, above, beneath it, 
 On the land and underneath it." 
 
 In the ocean, the sea, in the river, the lake, in the cistern, the gutter, 
 my home I can make : with the wealthy I stay, with the beggar I roam, 
 and with the poor negro I feel quite at home ; while under the lash, 
 with him I have wept, with the Emperor Nicholas often I've slept. 
 Some people assert that whole volumes I've spoken, when I'm just as 
 certain no silence I've broken ; yet I've taught pious lessons, but never- 
 theless I've taught as much evil I'm free to confess; and now you must 
 own that enough of concession I've made with the foregoing candid 
 confession. s. n. 
 
EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 147 
 
 REBUS NO. II. 
 
 I'm seven letters; and I name 
 
 A man, who does high office claim. 
 
 Decapitate me, and I still 
 
 Survive, you'll find, a tale to tell ; 
 
 Again behead, I tell of gladness ; 
 
 Again — I oft am cause of sadness; 
 
 Once more, and still I live to say 
 
 "What you, no doubt, did yesterday ; 
 
 Beheaded yet once more, I name 
 
 Yourself, in tongue of classic fame ; 
 
 At last, of all but one bereft. 
 
 That one a Latin word is left. aliquis. 
 
 The proverb enigmatically expressed in the " game of proverbs," in 
 the February number, is this : " Where there is a 20 ill, there is a way.'' 
 
 It was found out by Henry A. Danker, of Troy, N. Y. ; L. M. and 
 C. M. of Brooklyn, N. Y.; N. 0. U. of Rose Cliff, N. Y. 
 
 answer to charade no. iii. 
 Glow-worm. 
 Answered by Henry A. Danker, of Troy, N. Y. 
 
 answer to c. h. little s question. 
 Night-shade. 
 Answered by 0. L. S. of New York City ; L. M. and C. M. of Brook- 
 lyn, N. Y. ; L. W. H. of Williamstown, Ms. 
 
 S. N.'s TWO disjointed PROVERBS. 
 
 1. " A great many of our difficulties may be overcome by assiduity and 
 proper diligence'' 
 
 2. " Mischief lurks under dissimulation.''^ 
 
 Answered by Albert Danker, jr. of Troy, N. Y. ; L. M. and C. M. of 
 Brooklyn, N. Y. 
 
 answer to budget of anagrams, no. ii. 
 
 1. Real fun, Funeral. 4. Evil fast. Festival. 
 
 2. In magic tale, Enigmatical, 5. No more stars. Astronomers. 
 
 3. Hard case, Charades. 6. Nay I repent it, Penitentiary. 
 Solved by Henry A. Danker, of Troy, N. Y. ; L. M. and C. M. of 
 
 Brooklyn, N. Y. 
 
148 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 A PROTEST ON SUN-PLANTING FOR S. N. 
 
 "Plant the sun!" pray don't do it, for first you pervade 
 Universal expanse with the deadly night-shade. 
 O time dark and dismal ! but brighter the story, 
 When your seed, coming up, should produce morning-glory, 
 "When each sprouting sunbeam shoul-d golden rods show, 
 And thyme, so much needed, in gardens should grow ; 
 When the days eye should open in wonder so wide, 
 That the sun-Jlower, full-orbed, it might rival in pride. 
 Bnt then, pray don't do it We're flowers of an hour. 
 While he's annual, perennial, a stock July flower. 
 Oh, be less ambitious your garden to fill — 
 Let the sun give us moon-sleeps and four-6 -clock still ; 
 Let him, golden immortal, still show his bright face, , 
 Lest some fearful great touch-me-not spring in his place. 
 Norwich, Conn. o. m. 8. 
 
 ANSWER TO HISTORICAL QUERIES, NO. II. 
 
 10. Tallow candles were invented in 1290. 
 
 11. The satellites of Jupiter were discovered by Galileo in 1608. 
 
 12. The circulation of the blood was discovered by William Harvey 
 about the year 1628. 
 
 13. Joan of Arc flourished in the fifteenth century. She was burned 
 at the stake in the market-place of Rouen on the 30th of May, 1431. 
 
 14. The insurrection of Jack Cade was an opposition raised by him 
 against the government during the reign of Henry the Sixth, in the 
 year 1451. He pretended to be a descendant from Edward the Third. 
 
 15. The plague in London was in the year 1665. Nearly 70,000 
 persons died of it. 
 
 16. The great fire in London took place in the year 1666. It de- 
 stroyed 14,000 houses, and 89 churches. 
 
 17. King Charles the First was beheaded on January 30th, 1649, in 
 the 49th year of his age. 
 
 18. Astronomy and geography were first introduced into Europe by 
 the Moors, in 1220. Bartholomew Columbus introduced the first 
 geographical maps into Europe in the year 1487. In 1489, he printed 
 and dedicated to Henry the Seventh a map of the world. 
 
 19. The Gunpowder Plot was discovered on the 5th of November, 1605. 
 
 20. The mariner's compass is by some supposed to have been dis- 
 covered by Flavio De Melfi in the year 1302, though some say that it 
 was brought from China by Marco Paola, a Venetian, in' 1260. 
 
 Answered by L. M. and C. M. of Brooklyn, N. Y. 
 
V^-Vi--^ 
 
 POMPEYS PILLAR. 
 
POMPETS PILLAE. 
 
 151 
 
 POMPEY'S PILLAR. 
 
 ^-'^ffe 
 
 *^^ 
 
 , --^B^J^MiD the genenil ruin v.hich ancient Alexandria pre- 
 ;,( sents, several objects still remain in a measure en- 
 ^ _^r, tire, and are Avell deserving attention. Pompey's 
 Pillar is one of these objects. It is situated about a 
 ^s^ mile from the southern gate of Alexandria. The name by 
 ^^ which it is called, as is pretty generally conceded now, has 
 been given to it in modern times. Opinions have differed much 
 as to the date of its erection, and as to whose memory it was 
 raised. Tlie notion which has become so current on account of its 
 common name, namely, that it was erected by CcCsai- to commem- 
 orate his victory over Pompey, though it has had respectable sup- 
 porters, is very generally given up. Some wiiters have supposed 
 the column to be the remains of a magnificent building, of which 
 they trace the ruins near by. It has sometimes, too, been thought 
 to commemorate the favors which Adrian extended to this city, 
 and still more frequently, similar favors extended by Severus. 
 What an uncertain thing is fame ! Here is a huge column, which 
 is the wonder of the world, and erected by some great potentate to 
 glorify himself, and yet nobody in the world knows who that great 
 potentate was, or when he lived. The more rational theory re- 
 specting the origin of Pompey's Pillar seems to me to be that 
 which ascribes it to the time of Diocletian. A Greek inscription 
 was discovered upon it in the time of Sir Ralph Abercrombie, which 
 dedicates it to the Emperor Diocletian, under the government of 
 the Prefect Pontius, though that inscription may have been placed 
 upon it at a time subsequent to its erection. 
 
 The column is of granite. It belongs to the Corinthian order, 
 and, according to the best authorities, measures sixty-four feet in 
 the shaft, about five in the base, ten in the pedestal, and from ten 
 to twelve iu the capital — something over ninety feet in all. Stand- 
 
152 pompey's pillar. 
 
 ing in a plain, as it does, with few objects around it which can serve 
 as comparisons in respect to its size, it has always appeared to trav- 
 elers much higher than it is. You see it is by no means remark-^ 
 able as to its height. The column of Trajan, in the Forum Tra- 
 jani at Rome, is one hundred and thirty-two feet in height, and the 
 monument in London, which was erected to commemorate the great 
 lire of 1666, is two hundred and two feet high. 
 
 Some years since, a party of British sailors, being ashore at 
 Alexandria, determined they would climb to the top of Pompey's 
 Pillar, and unfurl their country's flag there. It was rather a bold 
 undertaking ; but tars are brave fellows the world over. On ar- 
 riving at the spot, many contrivances for ascending the shaft were 
 tried, but without eflfect, and the British tars began to despair of 
 success, when the oflicer who had planned the frolic suggested the 
 means of accomplishing it by a paper kite, for which one of the 
 men was despatched to the city. The inhabitants were by this time 
 apprized of what was going forward, and flocked in crowds to 
 witness the exploit. The governor of Alexandria was told that 
 the English seamen were about to pull down Pompey's Pillar. 
 But he would not interfere, saying, the English were too great pa- 
 triots to injure such a monument as this. The kite was brought 
 and flown directly over the pillar, by which means a cord was car- 
 ried over the capital. This accomplished, a rope was then drawn 
 over, and one of the seamen ascended by it to the top, where being 
 arrived, other ropes were handed to him by the same conveyance, 
 and in little more than an hour a regular set of shrouds was erected, 
 by which the whole company went up, and unfurled the British 
 flag amid the shouts of several thousand people collected to see 
 Avhat they termed a miracle, as no one had befoie been known to 
 have seen the top of that stupendous edifice, which overtops the 
 highest buildings of the city. To the eye below, the capital does 
 not appear capable of holding more than one man ; but these sea- 
 men found it would contain no less than eight persons very conve- 
 niently. They also discovered, what before was unknown, that there 
 was originally a statue on this pillar, of gigantic size, of which the 
 foot and ancle are the only parts now remaining. The only injury 
 the pillar sustained was the loss of one of its top stones, which fell 
 
VEGETABLE INSTINCT. 153 
 
 down and was brought to England by one of the company. The 
 sailors, after painting their names in large letters, just beneath the 
 capital, descended, to the great astonishment of tlie Turks, who to 
 this day speak of it as the madcap enterprise. 
 
 VEGETABLE INSTINCT. 
 
 IF a pan of water be placed within six inches of the stem of a 
 young pumpkin or vegetable marrow, it will, in the course of 
 the night, approach it, and will be found in the morning with one 
 of its leaves on the water. This experiment may be continued 
 nightly until the plant begins to fruit. 
 
 If a prop be placed within six inches of a young convolvulus, or 
 scarlet-runner, it will find it, although the prop be shifted daily. 
 If, after it has twined some distance up the prop, it be unwound, 
 and twined in the opposite direction, it will return to its original 
 position, or die in the attempt ; yet, notwithstanding, if two of these 
 plants grow near each other, and have no stake around which they 
 can entwine, one of them will alter the direction of its spiral, and 
 they will entwine around each other. 
 
 Duhamal placed some kidney-beans in a cylinder of moist earth ; 
 after a short time they began to germinate, of coui'se sending the 
 plume upwards to the light, and the root down into the soil. 
 After a few days, the cylinder was turned one-fourth round, and 
 again and again this was repeated, until an entire revolution of the 
 cylinder had been completed. The beans were then taken out of 
 the earth, and it was found that both the plume and radicle had 
 bent to accommodate themselves to every revolution, and the one 
 in its effort to ascend perpendicularly, and tlie other to descend, had 
 formed a perfect spiral. But although the natural tendency of the 
 roots is downward, if the soil beneath be dry, and damp substances 
 be above, the roots will ascend to reach it. 
 
 Other instances could be advanced to show the wonderful in- 
 stinct of vegetables, but probably the above are sufficient to awaken 
 a spirit of inquiry among our young friends. 
 
 VOL. V. 7* AP 
 
154 
 
 THE ITALIAN LAKES. 
 
 ^ifMBm 
 
 THE ITALIAN LAKES. 
 
 ALTHOUGH the lakes of Italy cannot vie with their sisters on 
 the opposite side of the Alps, theie are several that are ex- 
 ceedingly beautiful. Those which most delighted me, while trav- 
 eling in Italy, were Lakes Como, Lugano, and Maggiore. Having 
 completed my visit at Milan, and being nearly ready to cross the 
 Alps into Switzerland, instead of taking the diligence directly to 
 the pass of the Simplon, I occupied some two days' more time by 
 making a detour, to visit these lakes. I was accompanied in this 
 excursion by my two American friends and a dean in one of the 
 colleges at Oxford. The latter was a great admirer of lake scenery. 
 Indeed, he was almost a monomaniac on this subject. I traveled 
 in company with him a good many miles, first and last, and I 
 
THE ITALIAN LAKES. 155 
 
 always found liim somewliat in the predicament of the magnet in 
 the presence of a huge bar of iron — inclined to vary from the pole 
 whenever there was anything in the shape of a lake within a mile 
 or two. In this respect, my clerical English companion was by no 
 means alone. I found the lake fever a much more common one 
 among Englishmen, wherever I went with them on the continent, 
 than among my own countrymen. The fact is easily accounted 
 for. It is a rare thing to see a fine lake in England, while in 
 America the country abounds with them. 
 
 There is a railway from Milan to Como ; and wishin2: to sfet 
 over the ground, at this point in my journey, as rapidly as pos- 
 sible, I took this mode of conveyance. We arrived at Como just 
 as the sun was setting, and lending all his power in coloring the 
 charming scenery of the lake. Como is an old town. Its cathe- 
 dral is one of the most noted in this part of Italy. It was begun 
 in 1396. Among the interesting objects it contains, are the statues 
 of the iwo Plinys, both of whom were born in Como. 
 
 Our party, after some refreshment, enjoyed a fine row on the 
 lake, by moonlight. The scenery on this end of the lake is hardly 
 equal in beauty to some farther northward. }3ut our first in- 
 troduction to Lake Como, while the twilight was fading into moon- 
 light, was a most happy one. The Como people tell us of an enor- 
 mous species of fish living in this lake, who have wit enough 
 always to keep near the bottom, so that they are never caught and 
 seldom discovered. They call the fish the augong, and say that he 
 is larger than a man, and a great glutton, devouring scores of the 
 smaller fry at a single dinner. How much truth there is in these 
 stories, I could not find out. My ears are always wide open when 
 there is anything of a marvelous nature to be told. I imbibe 
 strange and wonderful tales and legends as a sponge takes in 
 water. I am in the habit of hoarding such things up carefully, 
 setting a great store by them, whether I succeed in believing them 
 or not, just as a miser amasses gold and silver, which can be of no 
 possible use to him, just for the sake of possessing it. I half be- 
 lieved the fish story, though I could not get a sight at the fish. 
 Our boatman, however had seen one— so he said— that was some 
 comfort. 
 
156 THE ITALIAJT LAKES. 
 
 They tell another tough story, too, in these parts, about a certain 
 land animal. They say that in the hills above the lake, a huge 
 lizard resides, which is six feet in length — quite a respectable alli- 
 gator. This chap, according to the accounts of the people living in 
 these elevated regions, makes sad havoc with smaller animals when 
 they happen to M\ in his way, and when he happens to be hungry. 
 I made a pilgrimage to the reputed haunts of this saurian monster ; 
 but he did not show himself. Apropos of this ^^ilgnmage. It was 
 one of the pleasantest imaginable. The next morning after our 
 arrival in Como, I rose as soon as it was light, while my com- 
 panions and most of the citizens were still in dream-land, and 
 walked out alone. I went first to the cathedral. As early as it 
 was, several men and women, mostly country people who had come 
 to the city with vegetables for sale, as appeared by their baskets in 
 the vestibule, were performing their devotions. After stopping a 
 few moments to examine this beautiful edifice, which contains some 
 very fine pictures, I took one of the lanes leading up the hill-side, 
 and began to climb the eminence. I soon found myself in a gen- 
 tleman's vineyard. But not wishing to relinquish my scheme of 
 seeing the lake and its surrounding scenery from the summit of 
 this hill, I went on. The slope I was ascending was terraced to 
 the very top, and the vines which covered it were cultivated on 
 these several terraces. I generally made it a rule, while traveling 
 in Europe, when I found myself in a somewhat ambiguous posi- 
 tion, as in this instance, to push on, until I came to an obstacle that 
 I could not get over, or received a rebuft' from some person in 
 authority, in either of which cases I usually accompHshed a digni- 
 fied retreat. So I went on, until I encountered a man who seemed 
 to be the inajo)' domo. Instead of expressing surprise or displeas- 
 ure at seeing me there, he bade me " good morning" in that cor- 
 dial manner which is so natural to an Italian, seeming to regard 
 my presence in his territories as quite in the ordinary course of 
 things. I told him my errand. He seemed delighted that I was 
 taking so much pains for such an object, and cordially pointed out 
 the best way to reach the top of the mountain. It was a long way 
 to the summit. I had not reckoned upon half the labor that the 
 climbing actually cost me. But my toil was richly rewarded. 
 
THE ITALIAN LAKES. 157 
 
 Seating myself on one of those vine-covered terraces, I enjoyed a 
 prospect which, next to that from Mount Vesuvius, is imprinted 
 with more vividness upon my memory than any other in Italy. 
 The town of Como, nestled down among the liills, was in the fore- 
 ground. Then I had a view of the lake, from the surface of which 
 I could see pictured a great portion of the foliage on its banks ; 
 with the wild and picturesque hills on the other side for a back- 
 ground. 
 
 The hum of the city, just awaking from sleep, was wafted up this 
 summit, in the stillness, with astonishing distinctness. I could hear 
 the plashing of the oars of the boatmen on the lake. Innumerable 
 birds, many of which were strangers to me, were commencing their 
 morning concert, and their music fell upon my ear so sweetly and 
 tenderly, tliat I blessed them from my very heart. 
 
 But my enjoyment in this retreat was of short duration, and I 
 hurried down to be in season for breakfast at my inn — the Hotel 
 Angela. And, now I have named this hotel, let me say a good 
 word for it. It is one of the very best in Italy. The table is well 
 provided too ; the rooms are pleasant and airy ; and the beds are 
 clean, which is saying a great deal for an Italian inn. There is 
 an air of great comfort about the whole establishment ; and every 
 employe in it seems disposed to add as much as possible to the 
 general stock of happiness. Even the fleas seem to have caught 
 somewhat of the spirit of courtesy that prevail in the house. 
 They are far more advanced in civilization than their Roman 
 and Neapolitan cousins. I may be mistaken ; but I looked upon 
 them as peculiarly tender-hearted and conscientious. When they 
 invaded our sanctuary, and made their accustomed drafts, I thought 
 they d-id it tearfully, and, as it were, under protest. AVe were 
 treated to some fish from the lake, which were most delicious. The 
 variety was entirely new to me. It is called agone by the inhabitants. 
 
 At half-past eight in the morning, we took the little steamer 
 Adda, for a trip up the lake. It would have amused you to have 
 heard the difi'erent dialects employed among our passengers. Hero 
 ■was a group of Italians, chatting away, in their silvery tones, with 
 such earnestness, that you would think they were angry with eacli 
 other. A few paces from them were some Austrian?, expressing 
 
158 THE ITALIAN LAKES. 
 
 their admiration in a much harsher language. There were groups 
 of Frenchmen, too, chatting as fast as a horse could trot, and laugh- 
 ing up to their very foreheads, while on the other side of the 
 steamer, a party of English gentlemen and ladies, more sober and 
 sedate in their enthusiasm, were contriving how they might take 
 the most possible comfort, ever and anon declaring that the lake 
 was " most extraordinary." There were two or three Dutchmen 
 on board, who talked very sensibly, no doubt, but with an express- 
 ion as if their mouths were full of hot maccaroni ; and besides, 
 there were specimens of genuine, whittling, calculating Yankees. 
 
 The boat was guided by a wheel running horizontally, and the 
 pilot performed his task sitting down, leaning his head on his arm, 
 and turning the wheel with the other. I cannot say much for the 
 scenery for some miles. As we came in sight of Bellagio, how- 
 ever, it becomes more picturesque. The town of Como, it should 
 be recollected, is situated at the southern extremity of one of the 
 arms of the lake. We ascend the south-western arm. The eastern 
 shore abounds in villages and little white villas, the latter said to 
 be mostly the summer residences of the Milanese nobility. We 
 passed a place called Nesso, near which a fine cascade dashes down 
 the hill-side. This spot is memorable, as it is supposed to be the 
 site of Plinifs villa, which ho called Trar/ccdia, on account of its 
 wild and romantic situation. This opinion is confirmed by the 
 discovery of broken columns in the lake. Madame Pasta, the great 
 vocalist, and Taglioni, the dancer, had also villas on this shore. 
 
 Como has been pronounced the most attractive, on the whole, 
 of the three lakes. Indeed, travelers generally regard it as the 
 most charming inland sheet of water in Italy. It may be so ; but 
 that portion of it which I saw — univei-sally called the finest — seemed 
 to me to be surpassed by the scenery of Lugano. There were few 
 or no clifts, on either shore, so bold as I had expected to see. In 
 this respect, many of the Swiss lakes greatly excel it ; and I am not 
 sure but the scenery of Lake George and the Highlands of the Hud- 
 son is equal to it. One of the chief charms of an excursion on 
 this lake are the pretty dwellings nestled down among the trees on 
 the shores. They have such an air of cosiness and comfort about 
 them, that one falls in love \vith them at first sight. 
 
THE ITALIAN LAKES. 159 
 
 We left the steamer — or the steamer left us, whicliever you 
 please — when we reached Menaggio, situated about half the dis- 
 tance from Como to the northern end of tlie lake. Here we hired 
 a carriage — a particularly poor one, was all we could obtain — and 
 proceeded across a very rough and ragged country, quite barren of 
 interest, to Porlezza, on Lake Lugano. It rained furiously for the 
 last half hour of our ride, and our party presented the appearance, 
 in some respects, of drowned rats. Porlezza is a little village of 
 poverty-stricken huts, the inmates of which live mostly by fishing. 
 When there are no travelers to be attended to, and the natives 
 are in danger of starvation, they try their luck in the lake. But 
 no sooner does a party of visitors come over from Lake Como, 
 than they withdraw their hooks from the water, and use all the 
 arts they are master of to catch the men. We found a score of 
 boats on the beach, and twice that number of boatmen. The 
 boats were all flat-bottomed, and very wide in proportion to their 
 length. I am not able to rank them under any genus of boats 
 with which I am familiar ; but I may say this : that they resem- 
 bled the mud scow of Xew England much more than the gondola 
 of Venice. We indulged in some hearty strains of laughter over 
 these " pleasure boats ;" but we found out, before we reached the 
 opposite shore, that the lake was somewhat treacherous, and very 
 liable to sudden gusts of wind, abundantly capable of swamping 
 such graceful boats as we had expected to see. Selecting one of 
 these boats, and shipping three oarsmen, we embarked for Lugano, 
 on the opposite shore. The banks of Lake Lugano are, for the 
 most part, more picturesque than those of Como. There is an air 
 of wildness about it which compares favorably with some of the 
 most celebrated of the Swiss lakes. The blufts are some of them 
 of great height, and well nigh perpendicular. I wonder that the 
 praises of Lugano have not been more general. The shape of this 
 sheet of water is singularly irregular and indescribable. It is 
 something like a very uncouth and rustic capital H, with about as 
 many arms and claws as would suffice for a crab or a lobster. 
 One of these arms stretches towards Mennagio, on Lake Como, and 
 it was on this arm that our acquaintance with this lake commenced. 
 The greatest length of the lake is sixteen miles ; its average breadth 
 
160 THE ITALIAN LAKES. 
 
 two miles. Mount Salvadore occupies a very conspicuous place in 
 the beautiful landscape presented to the eye from the lake. It 
 stands on a promontory, washed on two sides by the waters of con- 
 tiguous arms of the lake. As we approach the pretty little village 
 of Lugano, the shores grow less wild and rugged. Traces of cul- 
 tivation appear. As we advance, we see beautiful white villas, and 
 churches, pleasantly situated in the midst of vines, fig-trees, and 
 walnut groves. It requires upwards of three hours to row^ from 
 Foiiezza to Lugano. Wc cross the Austrian frontier on this route. 
 In all my experience of the operation of the passport system, I 
 never elsewhere saw it in such a ludicrous light as at a miserable 
 little place on this lake, where we were obliged to go ashore and 
 submit our passports to the inspection of an Austrian official there 
 stationed. lie was a great, fat, greasy -looking fellow, who could 
 not have weighed less than two hundred pounds ; and such an os- 
 tentatious display of wisdom as he made over our passports, I 
 think I never saw before in my life. I wish my friend Ross Brown, 
 who has made such good use of his pencil in the pictures which 
 appear in Yusef, had been in our company. If he had been with 
 us, that great Austrian reservoir of learning and profundity would 
 certainly have been transmitted to posterity. He found a great 
 many flaws in the vises of all the passports. Ever so many things 
 needed explanation. I don't believe that King John looked over 
 the famous Magna Charta with more solemnity than this gentle- 
 man did each individual passport, and I am sure he never could 
 have got up so much dignity on the occasion. The farce was en- 
 tertaining enough at first ; but it got to be tedious after a little while, 
 and we cut it short by slipping into the fingers of the august actor 
 two or three zwanzigers — an Austrian coin the value of which I 
 never could find out — when the difficulties seemed suddenly to disap- 
 pear, the passports were signed, we were dismissed with great civility, 
 and were at once en route again. This ceremony of examining pass- 
 ports is performed twice on the way between Porlezza and Lugano. 
 The village of Lugano is extremely well situated. I would 
 gladly have spent a week here, had the time been at my command. 
 The hotel where we stopped and were entertained to our entire 
 satisfaction, was the Hotel de Lago. Here we spent the night. 
 
THE ITALIAN' LAKES. 161 
 
 The next morning, at a very early hour, long enough before any 
 breakfast could be had, we started in a vettura for Luino, on Lake 
 Maggiore. The route is extremely hilly, but not unpleasant. It 
 was seven o'clock when we reached Luino, a little village, the 
 principal attraction of which, to us, consisted in its providing for 
 us a good breakfast. 
 
 A little steamer touches at this place in the morning, on its way 
 to Sesto Callende, on the southern end of the lake, from which 
 place there is a foot road to Milan. Soon after we had swept the 
 table of everything edible upon it, this steamer arrived, and we 
 started for Baveno. The character of the scenery on this lake is 
 almost entirely unlike that of either Como or Lugano. On its 
 shores there is a much greater proportion of cultivated land. Here, 
 growing luxuriantly and abundantly, are the \Tne, fig, olive, pome- 
 granate, and myrtle. The farmers, such is the abruptness of the 
 slopes, are for the most part obliged to resort to terraces. 
 
 It was about eleven o'clock when we arrived at Baveno. The only 
 inn in the place is La Posta. It affords the traveler a capital op- 
 portunity to make himself familiar with a fare as miserable as he 
 can possibly desire, and to relieve himself therefor of the burden 
 of a whole handful of zwanzigers. 
 
 The great attractions of Lake Maggiore are the Borromean Is- 
 lands. They are most conveniently visited from Baveno, and we 
 lost no time in j^rocuring a boat for the excursion. The Isola 
 Bella is the most noted of these islands. One seems transported 
 to fairy land, the moment he sets his foot upon its shore. There 
 is upon it a splendid palace, owned by the Count Borromeo, con- 
 nected with wiiich are gardens, somewhat after the model of the 
 world-renowned hanging gardens of Babylon. An ancestor of this 
 family, in the year 1671, converted this island, then a mass of bar- 
 ren slate rock rising only a few feet from the surface of the water, 
 into this miniature paradise. This was done, at great expense, by 
 forming terraces, some ten or twelve in number, the lowest placed 
 on piers thrown into the lake. The soil used in forming these ter- 
 races was all brought from the main land. Here may be found not 
 only the plants of this latitude, but multitudes of exotics from 
 tropical regions, all flourishing iu the open air. I noticed the 
 
162 FORGIYE AND FORGET. 
 
 orange, citron, myrtle, cactus, aloes, camphor tree, sugar cane, coffee 
 plant, and a host of others indigenous to countries situated near the 
 equator. In the palace, they showed us a great many curiosities, 
 among which was paraded the bed on which Napoleon slept the 
 night before the battle of Marengo, They also attempted to show, 
 outside the palace, another Napoleonic relic, in the shape of the 
 word Battaglia^ (the Italian for battle,) which he cut with his pen- 
 knife on the bark of a venerable bay tree on the day of the battle 
 of Marengo. One letter only of this word remained. Isola Bella 
 is well worth visiting, though one must not be surprised if his 
 curiosity, rather than his taste, is gratified by the visit. 
 
 Speaking of taste, on our return to the Hotel de la Posta, at 
 Baveno, dinner was announced — and such a dinner ! it beggared 
 all deecription ; and when we came to pay for it, it almost beggared 
 us, too. 
 
 FORGIVE AND FORGET. 
 
 Angry looks can do no good, 
 
 And blows are dealt in blindness; 
 
 "Words are better understood, 
 If spoken but in kindness. 
 
 Simple love far more hath wrought. 
 Although by childhood muttered, 
 
 Than all the battles ever fought, 
 Or oaths that men have uttered. 
 
 Friendship oft would longer last. 
 And quarrels be prevented, 
 
 If little words were let go past — 
 Forgiven, not resented. 
 
 Foolish things are frowns and sneers, 
 For angry thoughts reveal them ; 
 
 Rather drown them all in tears, 
 Than let another feel them. 
 
THE DISCONTEN'TED HOESE. 
 
 163 
 
 FABLE- FROM THE GERMAN OF LESSINQ. 
 
 As Jupiter once was receiving petitions 
 
 From birds and from beasts of all ranks and conditions — 
 
 I quote from a lieathenish work, as you see, 
 
 To pick out a moral for you and for me — 
 
 The horse went as near as he dared to the throne, 
 
 And thus made his donkey-like sentiments known : 
 
 " For beauty of symmetry, fleetness and force, 
 
 'Tis said that all animals yield to the horse. 
 
 While my spirit I feel, and my figure I view 
 
 In the brook, Vm inclined to believe it is true; 
 
 But still, mighty Jupiter, still by your aid, 
 
 In my form might some farther improvements be made. 
 
 To run is my duty, and swifter and stronger 
 
 I surely should go, were my legs to be longer; 
 
164 WISE MAXIMS. 
 
 And as man always places a seat on my back, 
 
 I ought to be made with a saddle or sack. 
 
 It would save him much trouble, on journeys departing-. 
 
 And I would be constantly ready for starting." 
 
 Great Jupiter smiled — for he laughed at the brute, 
 
 As he saw more of folly than of vice in his suit — 
 
 And striking the earth, with wonderful force, 
 
 A camel rose up near the terrified horse. 
 
 He trembled — he started — his mane shook with fright. 
 
 And he staggered half round, as preparing for flight, 
 
 " Behold !" exclaimed Jove, " there an animal stands, 
 
 "With both your improvements at once to your hands. 
 
 His legs are much longer ; the hump on his back 
 
 Well answers the purpose of saddle or sack. 
 
 Of the two, silly horse, which shape will you take, 
 
 A horse or a camel ? The choice you may make." 
 
 The horse looked abashed, and had nothing to say; 
 
 And Jove, with reproaches, thus sent him away : 
 
 '' Begone, till you gratefully feel and express 
 
 Your thanks for the blessings and gifts you possess. 
 
 The camel, though plain, is useful and good; 
 
 You're handsome, but proud, discontented and rude." 
 
 WISE MAXIMS. 
 
 The following rules for self-government were adopted by a dis- 
 tinguished American clergyman now no more on earth. Were 
 they generally observed, they would revolutionize the whole social 
 community. Ten thousand sources of bitterness and controversy 
 would be dried up, and peace and good will take the place of envy, 
 ambition and strife : " Let me have the following maxims always 
 in mind, for the regulation of my conduct : Never to praise myself, 
 and never to speak evil of, or detract from any other individual. 
 Better not to speak at all, than to speak to slander and calumniate. 
 Resolve, never to use such language of any person, as I should be 
 ashamed to use iu his presence." 
 
THE GRUMBLE FAMILY. 
 
 165 
 
 THE GRUMBLE FAMILY. 
 
 Vhat a number of members there are belonginjr to 
 ^illj the Grumble femilv. One meets with them 
 ,<^ almost every day of his life. They seem to be 
 scattered all over the world, though they have such a 
 striking family resemblance, that you can tell one in an 
 instant wherever you encounter him. It has sometimes 
 seemed to me that the Grumble family have an especial 
 passion for traveling, inasmuch as we so often meet with them in 
 hotels, steamboats, and railway cars. I never go away from home, 
 as far as Boston, or Albany, or Philadelphia, without coming in 
 contact with a score or more of them, who appear as if they con- 
 sidered the great business of men and women consisted in grum- 
 bling at each other. I don't know when I was ever more thor- 
 oughly out of patience with this family in general, and sundry 
 members of it in particular, than I was the other day, while on 
 my route to Philadelphia, by the way of the Camden and Amboy 
 line. By this route, as most of my readers know, we go first down 
 our beautiful New York bay, around Staten Island, to Amboy, 
 where we take the cai-s across the State of Wew Jersey, to Cam- 
 den, and thence cross the ferry to the " City of Brotherly Love." 
 It is one of the finest trips imaginable. That part of it, especially, 
 which is by water, is charming in the extreme. All along the shore 
 of the little elbow of water which surrounds Staten Island, are 
 beautiful residences, nestled down amid the forests and hills of this 
 romantic island. The boat is fitted up in the finest style, for such 
 an excursion. It really seemed to me, the other day, while we 
 were gliding along in sight of so many attractions, that a man, 
 whether traveling on business or pleasure, could hardly help enjoy- 
 ing this trip. But alas ! some of the Grumble family were on 
 
166 THE GRUMBLE FAMILY. 
 
 board, hunting- after some game to gi-iimble at. Tliey never take a 
 book, or magazine, or newspaper along with them, seeming dis- 
 posed to keep the mind as much as possible disengaged, so that it 
 can the better keep a sharp look-out for something worth grum- 
 bling for. For a while, this sort of game was unusually scarce. 
 A few of the family near me in the saloon had to content them- 
 selves with some little mutterings of discontent touching the 
 weather. But when we were seated at the dinner-table, then all 
 the representatives of the family on board were in full cry. The 
 dinner did not suit Mr. Grumble, nor Mrs. Grumble, nor Master 
 Grumble, nor Miss Grumble. They did scarcely anything but pick 
 flaws in it. They made quite a hash of it between them. All of 
 the Grumblers agreed that there was nothing on the table fit to 
 eat ; and all of them, as far as my observation extended, revenged 
 themselves on those sinners who lun the Camden and Amboy 
 line, by eating as much of the miserable dinner as they conveniently 
 could. One of them grumbled at the stewed oysters, declaring 
 they were " cooked to death," at the same time that he emptied 
 upon his own plate the entire contents of one of the dishes con- 
 taining oysters, calling lustily, as he did so, for more. For my 
 part, although I have been called somewhat particular in regard to 
 my cuisine, I got along very well. The dinner was quite good 
 enough for me. I have seen better dinners, it is true, where there 
 was a greater variety, and served up with greater pretensions. But 
 I am sure, if the whole continent had been laid under contribution 
 to furnish that table, I should not have eaten my dinner with a 
 keener relish. It was good enough ; and why should a man wish 
 for anything better than that ? Besides, granting the dinner was 
 rather inferior, why can't the Grumble family see that grumbling 
 don't mend the matter a whit ? It in fact makes things worse. 
 In this case, it detracted from my own enjoyment while eating. 
 
 " Waiter !" said one of this genus sitting near me, " you black 
 rascal ! why don't you bring me that broiled chicken ? I ordered 
 it half an hour ago." 
 
 " If the gentleman will look before him," said the waiter who 
 had been addressed in such choice language, " he'll see the dish I 
 put by the side of his plate in a minute after it was ordered." 
 
THE GRUMBLE FAMILY. 167 
 
 And so he had. I noticed the fact myself. But Mr. Grumble 
 had been so busily at woik on the contents of his already over- 
 loaded plate, for fear, as I presumed, that he was in danger of not 
 getting the value of his half dollar, that he had not noticed the ad- 
 vent of the broiled chicken. No doubt you charitably suppose that 
 this gentleman nodded an apology to the waiter whom he had so 
 rudely and so uni-easonably addressed. But he did no such thing. 
 He kept on eating, without lifting his eyes from the plate. Your 
 gentleman gi-umbler never descends so far from his lofty vocation 
 as to make an apology. He has too much woik on hand of quite 
 another kind. By the way, this was the same Mr. Grumble who 
 stormed — I will not use a harsher word, though I might do so 
 WMth veracity — at the clerk, when he came to collect the fare for 
 dinner. And what do you suppose he stormed for ? Simply be- 
 cause the clerk declined taking a bill which he believed to be coun- 
 terfeit. It was the man's business to have bought his ticket for 
 dinner at the captain's office, in which case the clerk could have 
 compared the bill with the descriptions of counterfeits in the bank- 
 note detector. But he had not done so, and now ho grumbled be- 
 cause the note was not received in spite of the clerk's suspicions. 
 
 After dinner, Mrs. Grumble got herself into a perfect fever, be- 
 cause the chamber-maid insisted on removing two or three huge 
 band-boxes from the saloon. 
 
 " But, madam," said the servant, mildly, as I thought, " this is 
 the rule of the Company. I didn't make it. My orders are, not 
 to let any baggage come into this room, and I must obey them." 
 
 The reply to these remarks was anything but complimentary to 
 the innocent chamber-maid or the directors of the Camden and 
 Amboy Company. The lady finally carried her point, I believe, 
 the girl preferring rather to make Mrs. Grumble's case an exception 
 than to raise a tornado by removing the boxes. r>ut who does not 
 see that the lady was wrong in the matter ? The rule was a good 
 one. It was made for the convenience and comfort of the passen- 
 gers. The ladies' saloon is not a baggage room. Why should 
 Mrs. Grumble exercise her vocation on this topic ? 
 
 A gentleman, who must have been a cousin of this Mrs. Grum- 
 ble, undertook to advocate this lady's cause. 
 
168 THE GRUMBLE FAMILY. 
 
 " My dear sir," said I, " you have plead pretty well, I must say, 
 considering you are on the wrong side." 
 
 " Maybe, sir," said he, slightly otTended, " you are in the pay of 
 the monopoly ?" 
 
 " No, sir," I replied, " you guess wide of the mark there." 
 
 " Then why do you stand up for them ?" 
 
 " Because, in this matter I believe they are right and this lady 
 is v/rong." 
 
 " Well, for my part, I don't mean to uphold such a system as 
 this monopoly. I believe it is a selfish concern, and I'm not afraid 
 to say so." 
 
 "I don't think the Company are immaculate myself. They 
 would be a wonderful set of men if they were. Jiut pray, sir, don't 
 let us grumble at anything they do for us, simply because they do 
 it, without stopping to inquire whether it is well done or not. If 
 we do, I'm afraid they will say, ' Theie's no use trying to please 
 travelers. We can't suit them, when we do the best we possibly 
 can. They are perpetually grumbling ; and we might as well let 
 them grumble to their hearts' content.' " 
 
 It does seem to me, sometimes, that the American public is es- 
 pecially prolific in grumblers. I came across a man, not long since, 
 on my way from my country residence to the city, who called the 
 conductor of the train all manner of hard names, because, the 
 day before, he did not wait a minute or two for him, but left him 
 running toward the station. The conductor informed him that 
 his time was up, and he had no authority to wait a second for any 
 person. Tlie grumbler — a well-educated man, who had seen some- 
 thing of the world — admitted that the train did not leave the 
 station before its time ; but railed at the conductor and the Hud- 
 son River Company, because, though he, Mr. Grumbler, had waited 
 for them many and many a time, they would not wait, now and 
 then, for him. What unreasonable people this Grumble family 
 are. 
 
A DOLLAR FOR GOOD NEWS. 
 
 169 
 
 A DOLLAR FOR GOOD NEWS. 
 
 WHY do you sigh so, dear mother ?" said a young ishmder of 
 some dozen summers, to his pale, anxious-looking parent, 
 who sat busily sewing near him. 
 
 " For the lack of a dollar, my child," was the reply, in a tone 
 which seemed scarcely calm, while a moment after a silent tear 
 found its way down her cheek. Little Alfred watched that tear, 
 and pondered upon his mother's poverty, till he felt such a choking 
 sensation in his throat, from the attempt he made not to let his 
 mother see him weep, that he was obliged to rise and leave the 
 room. He went out, and sat upon a large stone near the back 
 door, and then wept as if his young heart was full of grief. And 
 so it was. 
 
 " Ally, what's the matter ?" asked a companion, whose footsteps 
 in approaching Alfred had not heard. Sobs choked the jwor boy's 
 utterance. At last he spoke. 
 
 " Walter," said he, " I can bear to be the poorest-dressed boy in 
 school. I can bear to go without pocket-money, and toys, and 
 books that the other boys have, but I can't bear to see my poor 
 mother weep because she is in need of a dollar, and I cannot give 
 
 VOL. V. & AP 
 
170 A DOLLAR FOR GOOD NEWS. 
 
 her one. If my father were only alive, it would not be so, or if I 
 were a man, and could work. But now — oh, I can't bear it 1" 
 And tears again fell thick and fast from his eyes. 
 
 Walter strove to comfort him, but in vain ; and as he was sent 
 on an errand, he soon left him. Poor Alfred looked up at the clear, 
 bright moon, and the thought of God, as the Great Benefactor, 
 came to his mind. He remembered that He took care even of the 
 birds of the air ; and he knelt there in the moonlight, and asked 
 God to send his mother some assistance." His prayer was answered. 
 
 Not long after, Walter rushed hastily to his side. " Ally, run, 
 run to my mother's, and tell her the Sylph has arrived, and get 
 the dollar. Run, quick !" 
 
 No further words were needed. Alfred comprehended at once, 
 and ran with all speed to Walter's home. His kind young friend 
 followed him at a slower pace ; for he was generous enough, much 
 as he had previously counted on the privilege of being first to tell 
 the good news to his mother, (for his own father was captain of 
 the Sylph,) to transfer his privilege, and the dollar which was the 
 invariable reward for such glad tidings, to his weeping, praying 
 playmate. This custom is a time-honored one on the island of 
 Nantucket — and many a young heart is made glad by the reward 
 from those to whom their nimble feet have carried good news. 
 
 Alfred received the dollar and the thanks of Walter's mother, 
 but still happier did he make that mother, when he told her of 
 Walter's kindness in thus denying himself to serve his friend. 
 " Why did you not come, my son," asked Walter's mother, " and 
 having earned the dollar, give it to Alfred ?" 
 
 " Because, mother, I knew Alfred would not feel as well about 
 taking it as if he had really earned it himself." 
 
 " You were right, Walter," was her answer ; and just then an 
 owner of the Sylph came in to confirm the tidings to the captain's 
 wife. 
 
 Alfred ran hastily home, and joyfully deposited his dollar in his 
 mother's hand. " Now," said she, " we can pay all our rent to- 
 morrow ; and I thank God for such a son as you are. You have 
 shown that you love and sympathize with me, and that is better to 
 me than silver or gold." 
 
THE VOICE OF COXTENTMEXT. 
 
 171 
 
 Walter just then entered, and advancing to Alfred's mother, said : 
 " I have good news for you now, and I never told news for a dollar 
 with more pleasure than I now tell you this for nothing. Will you 
 promise that you will not give me any reward ? Alfred has earned 
 his dollar, and I want him to keep it, and so does my mother. She 
 would not have me come and tell you without I promised to act as 
 I am now doing." 
 
 The promise was given, and the good news imparted that Alfred's 
 father, who had been supposed to have been lost by shipwreck, was 
 alive, and was actually in the Sylph with Walter's father. 
 
 There was joy in many hearts that night, and two mothers 
 thanked God for two good sons. j. h. hanaford. 
 
 THE YOICE OF CONTENTMENT. 
 
 BY J. P. M-CORD. 
 
 The night was dire — the storm was j The box was rude and filled with 
 loud, I straw, 
 
 It swept the naked fields in wrath, I In which she laid their limbs to 
 The mighty trees before it bowed, j rest ; 
 
 And shivered branches strewed its ; Far richer beds they often saw 
 
 path. A richer bed they never pressed. 
 
 And yet she taught their lips to bless 
 The Source whence every comfort 
 flows ; 
 
 For others might be favored less, 
 Or sufi'er deeper wants and woes. 
 
 The cabin, where, amid the vale, 
 A mother braved her lot severe, 
 
 In all its timbers felt the gale. 
 And quivered like a thing in 
 fear. 
 
 "While dimly round the lonely room 
 
 A candle threw its feeble ray. 
 Her look and voice relieved the 
 gloom 
 That on her cowering children 
 . lay. 
 
 Her darliug boy raised up his head, 
 And sighed to hear the pelting 
 storm ; 
 "Ah, what shall children do," he 
 said, 
 " "Who have no straw to keep them 
 warm?" 
 
172 SIR ISAAC NEWTOX. 
 
 SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 
 
 THIS is the name of one of the greatest men Avho ever lived in 
 tliis or any country. In tliinking of him, we all ought to feel 
 grateful to God for giving the world so noble and so true a man. 
 Though he lived two hundred years ago, his memory is still cher- 
 ished, and his name is held in the highest esteem ; and, when two 
 hundred more years shall have passed away, and all those who now 
 live, and their children's children, will be in their graves, the name 
 of Sir Isaac Newton will be held in reverence. 
 
 He was born on the 25th of December, in 1642. la the course 
 of time little Isaac grew and got strong, like other boys, but he was 
 not famed for his learning or his studious habits. He did not get 
 much promotion at school. He was very frequently at the bottom 
 of the class. One day, the boy who was above him gave him a 
 severe kick on his breast, from which he suflfered great pain ; from 
 this time Isaac labored to get above his assailant, and, by dint of 
 hard work, he succeeded. From the habits of industry which this 
 incident led him to form, may be traced much of his future char- 
 acter and success. During the hours of play, when the other boys 
 
SIE ISXAG NEWTOX. 173 
 
 were occupied with their amusements, he was engaged in reading 
 and improving his mind. He found his amusement in books, in 
 making scieutidc instruments and experiments. For this purpose 
 he provided himself with little saws, hatchets, hammers, and otlier 
 sorts of tools, which he acquired the art of using with singular 
 cleverness. He made, with these Httle instruments, a windmill, a 
 water-clock, and a carriage which was put in motion by the person 
 who sat in it. He made an exact model of a large windmill, 
 which was erected near Grantham, in Lincolnshire, very near where 
 he was born. This model excited great attention, and was very 
 much admired. Not content with an exact imitation of another 
 machine, he made a new one, and conceived the idea of driving it 
 by animal power, and for this purpose he enclosed in it a mouse, 
 which he called the miller, and which, by acting upon a sort of 
 treadmill, gave motion to the machine. According to some ac- 
 counts, the mouse was made to advance by pulling a string attached 
 to its tail ; if so, it would, no doubt, have been eruel, and children 
 should never indulge in cruelty. Others state that the mouse put 
 the machine in motion by attempting to reach some corn placed 
 above the wheel. This idea showed great ingenuity on the part of 
 the future philosopher, and is well worth alluding to in this short 
 sketch. 
 
 Isaac's water-clock was formed out of a box which he obtained 
 from the brother of Mrs. Clarke, with whom he boarded. It was 
 about four feet high, and of a proportional breadth, somewhat like 
 a common house-clock. The finger on the dial-plate was turned 
 bv a pie<28 of wood, which either fell or rose by the action of drop- 
 ping water. The clock stood in his own bed-room, and he supplied 
 it every morning with the requisite quantity of water. It was used 
 by Mra. Clarke's family, and remained in the house long after its 
 inventor had quitted Grantham. 
 
 Isaac's mechanical carriage was a little gig upon four wheels, 
 which was put in motion by a handle moved by the person who 
 sat in it ; but it would only run on a smooth surface. Very likely 
 it was something like the carriages we see sometimes now, which 
 are put in motion by men sitting in them ; but they arc obliged to 
 be pushed or pulled up the hills. Isaac also amused himself by 
 
174 SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 
 
 introducing into the scliools paper kites. He made paper lanterns, 
 by the liglit of which he went to school in the winter mornings; 
 and he sometimes attached these lanterns to the tails of his kites in 
 a dark night, so as to inspire the country people with the belief that 
 they were comets. 
 
 After he left school he made himself famous bv a variety of in- 
 ventions and discoveries. One da}', when sitting in the orchard, 
 he saw an apple fall to the ground. This simple circumstance in- 
 duced him to ask the cause of the fall of the app!e ; and, after much 
 patient labor, he found out the great law of gravitation, or the power 
 of matter to tend towards the contre. This new theory of liis made 
 a complete change in the whole science of astronomy, and the name 
 of the philosopher spread all over Europe and the world. 
 
 He also made important discoveries in the nature of light, the 
 ebb and flow of the tides, in the measurements of the magnitudes 
 and distances of the stars. At one time of his life he was elected 
 a Member of Parliament. The natures of his studies were so deep 
 that they could not be even e.\})lained to children. Children must 
 become men before they can understand the inventions, discoveiies, 
 and systems of the great philosopher. But, great as he was, he 
 was not proud and conceited, as many boys and men ai-e. He was 
 humble. He said the more he knew the more he was convinced of 
 bis own ignorance; and he would never mention the name of God 
 without taking off his hat. After he had been thinking and writing 
 on some subject for yeai-s, he on one occasion left his room, with 
 his papers and the lighted caudle on the table. During his absence 
 his little dog got on the table, threw over the candle, and ignited 
 the whole of the valuable papers. When Sir Isaac returned, he 
 was sorrowed and surprised to see what the little dog had unknow- 
 ingly done ; but lie did not gel into a rage, and fume and swenr. 
 but merely say, " Oh ! my little dog, you little know what a treas- 
 ure you have destroyed." He then went to work to replace ihe 
 valuable documents. This incident shows great calmness and 
 beauty of character, and tells us how to endure misfortunes, when 
 they overtake us, with heroic firmness and Christian temper. 
 
 A variety of anecdotes are told of the illustrious man. He was 
 frequeutly lost in thought. It is said that he would sometimes get 
 
SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 175 
 
 out of bed in the morninir, and put liis elbow on the drcssinf>--table, 
 and there remain till he shivered with the cold, and then he would, 
 as it were, awake from his profound thouc^htfulness, and wonder 
 why he had not dressed himself and gone about his work. 
 
 It is related that he had a favorite cat, which used to rro in and 
 out of his study at pleasure, through a hole which wns made at the 
 bottom of the door. On one occasion, when the cat had kittens, he 
 had some small holes made in the bottom of the door, forofettino- that 
 the little ones could go in and out with ease where the great one did. 
 
 When he was one day very busily engaged in solving some prob- 
 lem, a gentleman gave him a call ju>t about dinner-time. The 
 gentleman having waited until he got tired, commenced eating the 
 dinner which had been provided for Sir Isaac, and finished it before 
 he made his appearance. The gentleman having left nothing but 
 the bones of a fowl in a dish, which he covered over, Sir Isaac soon 
 after entered the room, and was about to commence dinner. He 
 lifted the cover of the dish, and, seeing nothing but bones, exclaim- 
 ed, " Why, really, I thought I had not dined. \Vc! philosophers 
 forget when we are and when we are not hungry." He thought 
 he had dined when he had not. 
 
 It is said that the great man set out in life an infidel ; but, 
 having examined the evidences of Christianity, found reason to alter 
 his opinion. When the celebrated Dr. Halley was talking infi- 
 delity to him one day, he addressed him in the following manner : 
 " Dr. Halley, I am always glad to hear you when you talk about 
 astronomy or mathematics, because they are subjects you have 
 studied and well understand ; but you should not talk of Christian- 
 ity, for you have not studied it : I have, and am certain that you 
 know nothing of the matter." 
 
 After a well-spent life the great man was called to die ; and, on 
 his death-bed, he compared himself to a little child gathering 
 pebbles on the sea-shore, while the great ocean of knowledge lay 
 before him undiscovered. No, he was not vain, or puft'ed up. 
 Though he had seen farther into the secrets and nature of things 
 than any man who lived before him, he still saw his own little- 
 ness and weakness when compared to the wondrous works of the 
 universe, and the Great God who called it into existence. 
 
176 
 
 ESCAPE OF ARNOLD, THE TRAITOR. 
 
 ESCAPE OF ARNOLD, THE TRAITOR. 
 
 BENEZER Chase was a private in the New Hampshire 
 militia, which relieved the Pennsylvania line at West 
 Point, in 1780, when those troops, beinn^ veterans, were 
 Avanted elsewhere. Mr. Chji.se, with several oiiiers, being off 
 duty, was on the shore of the Hudson when Arnold deserted. 
 When Gen. Washington assigned him the command of West 
 Point, he left his own barge in his possession. A temporary hut 
 was erected on the east shore for the accommodation of the four 
 oarsmen who managed the barge. On the morning of his desertion. 
 Gen. Arnold rode down to the shore, from his head quarters at 
 Robinson's farm, very fast, as was his custom, throw his reins to his 
 attendant, and ordered the barge to be manned. He tlien directed 
 his course towards the point, but on reaching the middle of the 
 river, the boat was observed to take a course down the stream, and 
 moved very swiftly through the water. 
 
 The explanation was afterwards made by the boatmen. He 
 hoisted a flag of truce, and told theni to pull for the Vulture ^qo^- 
 of-war, which lay below, saying that he had some business with the 
 captain, and promised that if they would row him down to her as 
 soon as possible, to give them a guinea and a gallon of rum each. 
 On Hearing the Vulture, and being in range of her guns, Arnold 
 opened his plan by saying, " I have served the ungrateful scoundrels 
 long enough !" and declared if they would go with him, they 
 should have double pay, and should be made sergeants in the 
 British sei'vice. One of them replied that he did not understand 
 fiorhting on both sides. 
 
 " Then," said the General, " you are my prisoners." 
 When they came alongside of the sloop-of-war, Arnold ascend- 
 ed the deck, and was received by the marines with presented 
 arms. He then ordered his men to come on board as prisoners 
 of war. One of them, who had been their spokesman just before, 
 
STAMMERING OUT A PUX. 177 
 
 eaid " it was a sliabby trick, as they had toiled to tlieir utmost 
 strength to get the boat along, now to refuse the promised re- 
 ward, and make them prisoners to boot."' 
 
 The English captain lieard their murmurs, and stepping for- 
 ward, observed — 
 
 '' Genei-al Arnold, I command this ship, and as long as I walk 
 the quartei-deck, no such transaction sliall take place. I know 
 the meaning of my words, sir, and will meet their comment." 
 
 Tlieii, addressing himself to the men, he continued — 
 
 " My good fellows, I respect your principles and fidelity to your 
 country, although you are enemies to your king : you shall have 
 liberty to go or stay, as you please. Here," taking them from his 
 pocket, "are your- guineas : steward, put up four gallons of rum 
 for these men." 
 
 The boatmen thanked the gallant and generous sailor, and re- 
 turned in safety to head-quarters to report their proceedings to 
 General Washington, who had just arrived in camp. Arnold, 
 chagrined and enraged, retired, without uttering a word, to tho 
 cabin of the sloop-of-war. 
 
 This statement was made by Mr. Chase, about a fortnight before 
 his death, in the year 1831. 
 
 STAMMERING OUT A PUK 
 
 Stammering, says Coleridge, is sometimes the cause of a pun. 
 Some one was mentioning, in Lamb's presence, the cold-hearted- 
 ness of the Duke of Cumberland, in restraining the Duchess from 
 I rushing up to the embrace of her son, whom she had not seen 
 , for a considerable time, and insisting on her receiving him in 
 \ state. " How horribly cold it was," said the narrator. '* Yes," 
 I said Lamb, in his stuttering way ; " but you know he is the Duke 
 i of Cu-cum-her-Iandy 
 
 i VOL. V. 8* 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 i 
 i 
 
 ii 
 
178 CURIOSITIES OF SLEEP. 
 
 CUKIOSITIES OF SLEEF. 
 
 ^ 
 
 \^> N Turlvey, if a person happens to fall asleep in the 
 ^^/" iSS ^ neic:hborhood of a poppy-field, and the wind blows 
 ^A' ^c^- over towards him, he becomes g-radually narcotized, 
 ^^i^v aiij would die, if the country people, who are well ac- 
 '^' quainted with the circumstance, did not bring him to the 
 next well or stream, and empty pitcher after pitcher on his 
 ^ fac« and body. Dr. Oppenheim, during his residence in 
 Turkey, owed his life to this simple and efficacious treatment. 
 Dr. Graves, from whom this anecdote is quoted, also reports the 
 case of a gentleman, thirty years of age, who, from long-continued 
 sleepiness, was reduced to a complete living skeleton, unable to 
 stand on his legs. It was partly owing to disease, but chieflv to 
 the abuse of mercury and opium, until at last, unable to pursue his 
 business, he sank into abject poverty and woe. Dr. Keid mentions 
 a friend of his who, whenever anything occurred to distress him, 
 soon became drowsy and fell asleep. A fellow-student, also, at Ed- 
 inburgh, upon hearing suddenly the unexpected death of a near 
 relative, threw hims«;lf on his bed, and almost instantaneously, amid 
 the glare of noon-day, sunk into a profound slumber. Another 
 person, reading aloud to one of his dearest friends stretched on his 
 death-bed, fell fast asleep, and with the book siill in his hand, went 
 on reading, utterly unconscious of what he was uttering. A woman 
 at Ilainault slept seventeen or eighteen hours a day for fifteen years. 
 Another is recorded to have slept once for four days. Dr. Macnish 
 mentions a woman who spent three-fourths of her life in sleep, and 
 Dr. Elliotaon quotes the case of a young lady who slept for six weeks 
 and recovered. The venerable St. Augustine, of Hippo, prudently 
 divided his hours into three parts, eight to be devoted to sleep, 
 eight to recreation, and eight to converse with the world. 
 
 Maniacs are reported, particularly in the Eastern hemisphere, to 
 become furiously vigilant during the full of the moon, more espe- 
 
THE WATER BUFFALO. 179 
 
 cially ^vhen the deteriorating rays of its polarized light is peimitted 
 to fall into their apartment ; hence the name lunatics. There cer- 
 tainly is a greater proneness to disease during sleep than in the 
 waking state ; for those wlio pass the night in the Campagna di 
 Roma, inevitably become infected with its noxious air, while trav- 
 elers who go through without stopping, escape the miasma. In- 
 tense cold induces sleep, and those who perish in the snow, sleep 
 on till they sleep the sleep of death. 
 
 THE WATER BUFFALO. 
 
 THE wftter buffalo is nn animal much in use at Singapore for 
 purposes of draught. It is a dull, heavy-looking animal — 
 slow at work, and I think disgusting in appearance ; but remark- 
 able for sagacity and attachment to its native keepers. It has, 
 however, a particular antipathy to a European, and will immediately 
 detect him in a crowd. Its dislike to, and its courage in attack- 
 ing the tiger, is Avell known all over India. Not long ago, as a 
 Malayan boy, who was employed by his parents in hei-ding some 
 water buffaloes, was driving his charge home by the borders of 
 the jungle, a tiger made a sudden spring, and seizing the lad by 
 the thio-h, was draoVms^ him oflf, when two old bufialoes, hearing: 
 the shriek of distress from the well-known voice of their little at- 
 tendant, turned round and charged with their usual rapidity. The 
 tiger, thus closely pressed, was obliged to drop his prey to defend 
 Limself. While one buftalo fought and successfully drove the tiorer 
 away, the other kept guard over the wounded boy. Later in the 
 evening, when the anxious father, alarmed, came out with attend- 
 ants to seek his child, he ioy\\\(\ the whole herd, with the exception 
 of the two old bufialoes, had dispersed them to ixiQ\\^ but that they 
 were still there — one standing over the blee<liiig body of their little 
 friend, while the other kept watch on the e<.lge of the jungle for the 
 return of the tiger. 
 
180 
 
 THE OSTRICH FAMILY. 
 
 ^'^^JAi.v ^^— , 
 
 THE OSTEICH FAMILY. 
 
 A GREAT deal has been said and written about the ostrich, some 
 of which is true and some of which borders on the fabulous. 
 The following facts, however, condensed from an article in Sharpens 
 Magazine^ may be relied upon, and withal, are not altogether ha-ck- 
 nejed : 
 
 The idea of the stupidity of the ostrich seems to have been 
 univereally entertained, being taken for granted without investiga- 
 tion. Job alludes to it ; and Pliny, writing from common report, 
 says : " A wonder this is in their nature, that whatsoever they 
 eat — and great devourers they be of all things without difference 
 or choice — they concoct and digest it. But the veriest fools they 
 be of all othei-s ; for as high as their body is, yet if they thrust 
 their head and neck once into any shrub or bush, and get it hidden, 
 they think then they are safe enough, and that no man seeth them." 
 
THE OSTRICH FAMILY. 181 
 
 ^fany a pretty nursery tale has been written from this, and many 
 a wise saw founded on it. And yet the hiding of the head is, after 
 all, a mere fable. Snarmann, when in South Africa, expressly in- 
 quired in those parts where ostrielHS most aboimd, and " never 
 once heard mention made of the ostrich hiding its head when it 
 finds it cannot make its escape." The truth is, the ostrich does 
 nothing of the sort. He tries to escape as well as he can, and 
 continues his efforts till knocked on the head by the hunter, or 
 driven by him to a place where he may be captured. 
 
 Conflicting accounts have been published respecting the whole 
 process of breeding and incubation of the ostrich, ^in states 
 that as many as eighty eggs have been found in one nest. Fifty 
 or sixty have been certainly discovered, and the question has been 
 whether these are the produce of one female or of many. 
 
 The balance of opinion inclines to the belief that one male os- 
 trich attaches himself to three or four females, and that all these 
 deposit their eggs in one nest. This, according to Burckhardt, who 
 carefully investigated the subject, is coumionly made at the foot of 
 some isolated hill, by the simple process of scratching a hole in 
 the sand. The eggs are then placed close together, half buried in 
 the sand, and a narrow trench is drawn round this to carry off any 
 Avater. During the extreme heat of the day, the parent birds are 
 instinctively aware that the warmth of the sun renders their atten- 
 tion unnecessary ; "but as soon as the shades of evening fall, they 
 each take their turn upon the nest. 
 
 The cock bird, however, sits during the night, and Lichenstein 
 says that great numbers of the smaller beasts of prey, as jackalls 
 and wild-cats, who will run any risk to procure the eggs, aie found 
 crushed to death around the nests ; for the male bird rushes on 
 them, and tramples them with his powerfid feet till life is ex- 
 tinct. 
 
 The nests are never completely deserted, and the parent birds 
 relieve each other in keeping watch on the summit of the neighbor- 
 ing hill. When the Arabs descry an ostrich thus engaged, they 
 conclude that some eggs must be near ; and on thoir approach the 
 old birds retire, although it is not uncommon, especially in South 
 Africa, for them to show fight. Having discovered the nest, the 
 
182 THE OSTRICH FA!ktlLT. 
 
 Arabs dig a hole in the ground near it, in which they place a 
 loaded gun, having a long burning match fastened to the touch- 
 hole. The gun is pointed toward the nest, and is carefully covered 
 with sand and stones. The birds, after a time, return and resume 
 their places on the eggs ; the gun in due time explodes, and next 
 morning the Arab is rewarded by finding one, or perhaps both, of 
 the ostriches dead. This is tlie common mode of killing them 
 practised in the deserts of northern Arabia. 
 
 Various are the purposes to which ostrich's eggs are applied ; 
 first, they are in great favor as a culinary luxury, and are much 
 sought after by the captains of the merchant vessels touching at 
 the African ports, being purchased by them of the slave herds- 
 men, whose perquisites they generally are, for about six-pence each. 
 A good-sized egg weighs eleven ounces, is near seven inches in 
 depth, and holds five pints and a quarter ; consequently, it is con- 
 sidered to iifford a meal which will perfectly satisfy four hungry 
 white men, or eight of the more moderate blacks. The yolk is 
 very rich and luscious, and makes a most enviable omelet, but 
 gourmands agree that the native mode of cooking them is perfect. 
 The Hottentots bury the eggs in hot ashes, and, through a small 
 hole in the upper end, the contents are continually stirred, till they 
 acquire a certain consistence, which the sable cooks know by expe- 
 rience indicates the right moment for removing them from the 
 ashes to the sack-cloth, which covers the travelei-s' primitive table. 
 They are then eaten with biscuit, and washed down with copious 
 draughts of brandy. 
 
 The eggs are frequently found to contain small oval, pebble-like 
 bodies, about the size of a marrowfat pea, of a pale, yellow color, 
 and exceedingly hard. IBarrow found as many as twelve in one 
 egg ; and they are converted into buttons by the dandified Hotten- 
 tots, and perhaps also by the Boers. 
 
 The porcelain character of the shell, and its shape, well adapt it 
 for cups ; and such vessels are frequently elegantly mounted in sil- 
 ver, and sometimes in chased gold. The ancient Egyptians used 
 tliem in their places of woi-ship, and, together with their plumes, 
 insisted on their forming part of the tribute paid by conquered 
 countries where ostriches abounded. They were probably suspended 
 
THE ATHEIST. 188 
 
 in the temples, as they still are in the Coptic churches, the Copts 
 regarding them ;is emblems of watchfulness. 
 
 This bird was not sacred among the ancient Egyptians, but there 
 is reason to believe that it was so with the Assyrians. It has not 
 only been found as an ornament on the robes of figures in the most 
 ancient edifices at Nimroud, but it was frequently introduced on 
 Babylonian and Assyrian cylinders, always accompanied by the 
 emblematic flower. The Romans appear to have regarded it as a 
 delicacy, for Apicius left a receipt for a particular sauce for dress- 
 ing it ; and it is recorded of Ileliogabalus, that he had the brains of 
 six hundred of these birds served up as a dish at one of his feasts. 
 But in trencher feasts the Emperor Formius far outdid either, as it 
 is related by Vopiscus that he devoured an ostrich to his own sharo 
 at a single sitting. 
 
 
 
 THE ATHEIST. 
 
 " rpHE fool hath said in his heart, there is no God." So said a 
 JL philosophizing sceptic, as he sat down beneath the wide- 
 spread branches of a mnjestic oak. " How clear the proof of 
 this," said he, " in this oak tree ! Would an all- wise God have 
 put such a small fruit as the acorn on so large a ti-ee as the oak 1 
 while the tender vine has fastened to it the luige pumpkin ? 
 Certainly not," he continued with increased confidence ; '' a wise 
 Creator would have put the pumpkin on the great oak tree, and 
 the little acorn on the tender vine." 
 
 Thus satisfied, he reclined carelessly upon the ground to sleep, 
 for it was a warm autumn day. While resting there, an acorn 
 "v\as loosened from its place, in the tree above him, and fell di- 
 rectly on his face, causing him to s^art up suddenly, Wliile 
 smarting under the blow of a small acorn, his pride was mortified 
 and his pi ilosophy confounded. 
 
 Common sense assumed its dominion for a moment, when he 
 exclaimed, "There is a God, and I am a fool; for if that had 
 been a pumpkin instead of an acorn, my head would now have 
 been a squiish." 
 
184 
 
 CURIOUS BOOK TITLES. 
 
 CUEIOUS BOOK TITLES. 
 
 HAVE seen a great many quaint, as well as some quit© 
 laughable titles of books. Quaint titles have not been 
 "^o common for half a centur}' or more as they formerly 
 were, though, unless I greatly mistake, it ia getting to 
 be a little more fashionable now-a-days to imitate the ancient 
 authors in this thing. Those of my readers who have the 
 curiosity to look over a list of some of the oddest book titles 
 that ever were invented since the world began, would do well to 
 consult a recent volume entitled Salad for the Solitary, in whioh 
 such a list is given. Nor is this chapter all of interest which the 
 book contains. It is one of the most racy and readable books in 
 the whole round of modern literature. The compiler, who, carrying 
 out the figure employed in his title-page, styles himself " An Epi- 
 cure," is understood to be a gentleman intimately connected with 
 one of the most noted publishing houses in the Union. But 
 whether this surmise is true or not, he has made a most happy hit 
 in this volume, for which at least a hundred thousand readers must 
 thank him. But I am to give you some of his gleaning in respect 
 to the titles of books : 
 
 In Butler's " Remains" it is remarked, that " there is a kind of 
 physiognomy in the titles of books, no less than in the faces of 
 men, by which a skillful observer will as well know what to expect 
 from the one as the other." 
 
 Generally speaking, this is correct. But the optician who should 
 happen to purchase a book entitled, " A New Invention, or a Paire 
 of Christall Spectacles, by helpe whereof may be read so small a 
 print, that what twenty sheets of paper will hardly contain, shall 
 be discovered in one," (1644,) would find, to his surprise, that it has 
 nothing to do with his business, but relates to the civil war. ISo 
 also might mdstakes very readily occur with regard to Home 
 Tooke's celebrated "Diversions of Purley," which a village book- 
 
CUPJOUS BOOK TITLES. 185 
 
 club actually ordered at the time of its publication, under the im- 
 pression that it was a book of amusing games. 
 
 In Cha77ibers^ Journal is a cuiioiis paper on the subject of book 
 titles, from which we quote tlie following paragraph : 
 
 " Some titles are ao^reeablv short and others wonderfully lonjr. 
 A few years since a work was issued v.-ith the laconic title of ' It ;' 
 and for days previous to its publication the walls of London were 
 placarded with the words, ' Order It,' ' Buy It,' ' Read It.' Tiie 
 old Naturalist, Lovell, published a book at Oxford, in 1661, entitled 
 " Panzoologicomineralogia," which is nearly as long a word as Rab- 
 elais's proposed title for a book, namely, " Antipericatametapar- 
 hengedamphicribiationes ! I" 
 
 According to Stoive^s Chronicle, the title of '• Doomesday Book" 
 arose from the circumstance of the original having been preserved 
 in a sacred place at AYestmiuster cloisters, called " Domus Dei," or 
 House of God. 
 
 The Latin poetasters seem to have their merits called some- 
 what in question by the title of John Peters' curious and very scarce 
 work, " A New Way to Make Latin Verses, whereby any one of 
 ordinary capacity, that only knows the A, B, C, and can count nine, 
 though he understands not one word of Latin, or what a verse 
 means, may be plainly taught to make thousands of Hexameter and 
 Pentameter Verses, which shall be true Latin, true Verse, and Good 
 Sense" (1679). 
 
 In 1659 appeared a book entitled " The Key to Unknown 
 Knowledge, or a Shop of Five Windows, 
 
 "Which, if you do open, 
 To cheapen and copen, 
 Tou will he unwilling, 
 For many a shilling, 
 To part with the profit 
 "Which you shall have of it." 
 
 The mottoes on title-pages are often very curious. Tlie follow- 
 ing is from a book called " Gentlemen, look about yuu" : 
 
 "Kead this over if you're wise, 
 If you're not, then read it twise : 
 If a fool, and in the gall 
 Of bitterness, read not at all." 
 
186 CURIOUS BOOK TITLES. 
 
 Another, from Whitney's Emblems (1586) : 
 
 "Peruse with lieede, then friendly judge, and hlaming rash refraine; 
 So maist thou reade unto thy goods, and ehalte requite my paine." 
 
 One Joshua Barnes wrote a poem with the design of proving the 
 authorship of the " Iliad" traceable to King Solomon, and another 
 French critic, Daurat, who lived in the sixteenth century, pretended^ 
 according to Scaliger. to find all the Bible in Homer. Du Guere 
 wrote an eulogium on loigs. Erasmus amused himself by discuss- 
 ing " The praise of Folly," in his work entitled " Morire Encomium," 
 which, for the sake of the pun, he dedicated to Sir Thomns More. 
 Pierrius' " Treatise on Beards" — Homer's war between " The Frogs 
 and Mice," and Lucian's dissertation on " A Fly," present a curious 
 triumvirate of classic taste ; and Gray's ode on " The Death of a 
 Cat," Pope's epic verses on " A Lock of Haii-," and Swift's " Medi- 
 tation on a Broomstick," may serve as their companions in modern 
 times. And, as we have already seen, ingenuity itself seems to 
 have been overtasked in the fabrication of the titles of books in 
 early times, as, indeed, is again becoming in our own ; authors 
 of the olden time used to puff their own works, by affixing taking 
 titles to them; such as, " A Right Merrie and Wittie Enterlude, 
 verie pleasante to read," (tc. '• A Marvellous AVittie Treatise," <fec. 
 " A Delectable, Pithie, and Right Profitable AYorke," <fec. Addi- 
 son's " Spectator" proved so successful, that it provoked Johnson 
 to adopt "The Idler" and " Rambler." A very amusing blunder 
 was committed by a certain French critic, who, notwithstanding the 
 conventional use of the term, rendered it " Le Chevalier Errant," 
 and who, afterwards, on meeting with the " Colossus of English 
 literature," addressed him with the astounding and complimentary 
 epithet of Mr. Vagabond. 
 
 A pamphlet, published in 1703, had the following stiange title: 
 " The Deformitie of St. Cured, a sermon preached at St. Michael's 
 Crooked Lane, before the Prince of Orange, by the Rev. J. Crook- 
 shanks. Sold by Mathew Denton, at the Crooked Billet, near 
 Crijrplegate, and by all booksellers." The words of the text are, 
 " Every crooked path shall be made straight." The Prince, before 
 whom it was delivered, was deformed in person I 
 
THE COW TREE. 187 
 
 Many adopted allegorical titles. In theological works these were 
 most frequently — such as " The Heart of Aaron," " The Bones of 
 Joseph," " The Garden of Nuts," and a host of others, even less 
 allowable, might be adduced ; as, " A Fan to drive away Flies," a 
 treatise on purgatory ; "The Shop of the Spiritual Apothecary," 
 " Matches Lighted by Divine Fire," "The Gun of Penitence," &c. 
 One of famous Puritan memory. Sir Humphrey Lind, published a 
 book, which a Jesuit answered by another, entitled, " A Paire of 
 Spectacles for Sir Humphrey Lind ;" — the doughty knight retorted 
 by, " A Case for Sir Humphrey Lind's Spectacles." Gascoigne's 
 title-page is no less quaint than copious : '' A hundred sundrie 
 flowres bounde up in one small poesie : gathered partly by trans- 
 lation in the fyne and outlandish gardens of Euripides, Ovid, Pe- 
 trarch, Ariosto, and others ; and partly by invention out of our own 
 fruitfull orchardes in England : yielding sundrie and divers swete 
 savours of tragical, comical, and moral discourses, both pleasant and 
 profitable to the well-smeliing noses of learned readers." 
 
 It is fortunate for these laborious scribes that they lived in times 
 when they found readers courageous enough to venture beyond 
 their titles. 
 
 THE COW TREE. 
 
 ON the parched side of a rock on the mountain of Venezuela, 
 grows a tree with a dry and leathery foliage, its large woody 
 roots scarcely penetrating into the ground. For several months 
 in the year its leaves are not moistened by a shower ; its branches 
 look as if they were dead and withered ; but when the trunk is 
 bored, a bland and nourishing milk flows from it. It is at sun- 
 rise that the vegetable fountain flows most freely. At that time 
 the blacks and natives are seen coming from all parts, provided 
 with large bowls to receive the milk, which grows yellow, and 
 thickens at its surface. Some empty their vessels on the spot, 
 while others carry them to their children. One imagines he 
 sees the family of a shepherd who is distributing the milk of his 
 flock. It is named the palo de vaca, or cow-tree. 
 
188 
 
 FOLLIES OF GREAT MEN. 
 
 FOLLIES OF GEEAT MEN. 
 
 :m^ 
 
 j^v 
 
 ->j 
 
 
 HE Sublime History of Fools is a book which 
 ought to be written, and which, we doubt not, 
 Avould sell greatly. All great men have had 
 their follies, and the field open for gleaning is 
 Imost boundless. For instance, we have such facts as 
 lowing recorded in biographies and histories : Tycho 
 lirahe, the astronomer, changed color, and his legs shook 
 under him, on meeting with a hare or a fox. Dr. Johnson would 
 never ent<^r a room with his left foot foremost ; if by mistake it did 
 get in first, he would step back and place his right foot foremost. 
 Julius Cajsar was almost convulsed by the sound of thunder, and 
 always wanted to get in a cellar, or under ground, to escape the 
 dreadful noise. To Queen Elizabeth the simple word *' death" was 
 full of horrors. Even Talleyrand trembled and changed color on 
 hearing the word pronounced. Marshal Saxe, who met and over- 
 threw opposing armies, fled and screamed in terror at the sight 
 of a cat. Peter the Great could never be persuaded to cross a 
 bridge ; and though he tried to master the terror, he failed to do 
 so. Whenever he set foot on one, he would shriek out in distress 
 and agony. Byron would never help any one to salt at the table, 
 nor would he be helped himself. If any of the article happened 
 to be spilled on the table, he would jump up and leave his meal 
 unfinished. The story of the great Frenchman, Malebranche, is 
 well known and is well authenticated. He fancied he carried an 
 enormous leg of mutton at the tip of his nose. No one could 
 convince him to the contrary. One day a gentleman visiting him 
 adopted this plan to cure him of his folly : he approached him 
 with the intention of embracing him. when he suddenly exclaimed, 
 " Ha ! your leg of mutton has struck me in the face !" at which 
 
THE DEAF AND DUMB BOY. 189 
 
 Malebranche expressed regret. The friend went on : " May I not 
 remove the incumbrance with a razor ?" '• Ah, my friend I my 
 friend ! I owe you more than life. Yes, yes ; by all means cut it 
 otf I" In a twinkling- the friend lightly cut the tip of the philoso- 
 pher's nose, and adroitly taking from under his cloak a superb leg 
 of mutton, raised it in triumph. ''Ah!" cried Malebranche,"! 
 live ! I bi-eathe ! I nra saved ! My nose is free ; my head is free; 
 but — but — it was raw, and that is cookedP " Truly ; but then you 
 have been seated near the fire ; that must be the reason." Male- 
 branche was satisfied. From that time he made no more complaints 
 about any mutton-leg, or other monstrous protuberance on his nose. 
 
 THE DEAF AND DUMB BOY. 
 
 rjlHIS little fellow was at school in France, and he was deaf and 
 j_ dumb ; that is, he could neither hear nor speak. A way lias 
 been discovered, however, by vrhich such poor children may be 
 taught a great deal. 
 
 Well, some gentlemen went to this school, and one of them sin- 
 gled out this boy from among the others, that lie might examine 
 liim. He was first asked, " ^Yho made the world ?" The child 
 took his slate and wrote the first verse in the Bible. "In the be- 
 ginning God created the heaven and the earth." The gentleman 
 then asked him, " How do you hope to be saved •" The child 
 wrote, " This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that 
 Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." Very proper 
 answers, were they not ? Ah, my dear children ! perhaps y(»u 
 could not have answered the questions as well. I only wisli for all 
 of you, that you knew as much in your hearts as this little boy ; 
 then you would be wise both for time and eternity. But I will tell 
 you the last question the gentleman asked him. It was this, " How 
 is it that God has made you dmf iu\(\ dumb, while all those around 
 you can hear and speak?" The poor child seemed puzzled for .1 
 moment, and a suggestion of unbelief seemed to be put into his 
 head, but quickly recovering himself, he wrote, " Even so, Father, 
 for so itseemelh good in thy sight." Happy little boy ! 
 
190 
 
 A KEEN REBUKE. 
 
 A KEEN EEBUKE. 
 
 FATHER once rebuked his cruel children in the fol- 
 
 lowina: manner. He told thera tliat lie had some 
 
 ? very heavy charges to bring against them, and that 
 
 f^%^-^ the complainants whom they had injured were all 
 
 waiting in the next room, and would appear against them. 
 
 The children were much frightened at this, and begged 
 hard to know what it was they were charged with'. Their father 
 told them that one complainant had been pushed by them into a 
 puddle up to his knees; another wounded by a sharp spike; a 
 third knocked down ; a fourth stoned ; a fifth robbed of all that 
 his house contained ; and a sixth frightened almost out of his 
 senses. All the children denied the truth of these accusations, and 
 declared that they had never been guilty of such cruelty in their 
 lives ; but their father told them he could not believe them, for 
 that children who were cruel would not scruple to tell falsehoods. 
 He then fetched a basket from the next room, and placed it on the 
 table. Uncovering the basket, he took out a poor fly which one 
 of them had wantonly pushed into a cup of treacle; a cock-chafer 
 which they had been spinning ; a butterfly which they had knocked 
 down as he was flying over the garden ; a frog, whose leg they had 
 broken with a stone, as he hopped about by the side of a pond ; 
 and a bird's nest with the eggs they had taken from it. He then 
 went out and returned with a dog, to whose tail they had cruelly 
 tied an old tin kettle, which rattled against the ground as he ran, 
 and drove him almost mad. The children were all confounded. 
 Their father explained to them, that if they had committed those 
 acts of cruelty towards their fellow-creatures, they would have been 
 severely punished ; but that their wickedness was not less clearly 
 shown by being committed against feeble and helpless creatures, 
 which had neither power to help themselves, nor to punish their 
 
ES'GENUnT OF BIRD* 191 
 
 tormenters. They cried whih^. their father spoke of the bird's nest, 
 and he succeeded in convincing them of the sin which they lind 
 committed ; and though the punishment he inflicted was light 
 compared with their cruelty, it impressed on their youthful minds 
 the remembrance of their transgression, and they did not again 
 practise cruelty. The child who is cruel to insects or animals, is a 
 tormentor of God's creatures, and may well fear his judgments 
 whose tender mercies are over all his works, and without whose 
 permission not a sparrow falleth to the grounrl. It is better to 
 overcome evil in youth, than to let it overcome us in manhood. 
 
 mGENUITY OF BIRDS. 
 
 THRUSHES feed very much on snails. " Having frequently ob- 
 served some broken snail-shells near two projecting pebbles 
 on a gravel walk, which had a hollow between them," says one, " I 
 endeavored to discover the occasion of their being brought to that 
 situation. At last Lsaw a thrush fly to the spot, with a snail-shell 
 in his mouth, which he placed between the two stones, and ham- 
 mered at it with his beak till he had broken it, and was then able 
 to feed on its contents. The bird must have discovered that he could 
 not apply his beak with sufficient force to break the shell when it 
 was rolling about, and he therefore found and made use of a spot 
 which would keep the shell in one position." 
 
 When the lapwing wants to procure food, it seeks for a worm's 
 cast, or hole, and stamps the ground by the side of it with its feet, 
 somewhat in the same manner as I have often done when a boy, in 
 order to procure worms for fishing. After doing this for a short 
 time, the bird waits for the issue of the worm from its liole, which, 
 alarmed at the shaking of the ground, endeavors to make its escape, 
 when it is immediately seized, and becomes the prey of the ingenious 
 bird. The lapwing also frequents the haunts of moles. The ani- 
 mal, when in pursuit of worms, on which it feeds, frightens them, 
 and the worm, in attempting to escape, comes to the surface of the 
 ground, where it is seized by the lapwing. The same mode of 
 alarming hie prey has been related of the gull. 
 
192 
 
 EblTORIAI. TABLE TALK. 
 
 EDITOKIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 ^!^' ^ ' 
 
 ,E arc iiineh obliged to H. Ilnhhard for his note, hut 
 the cliarade and nna^^n-ains are so very old that we 
 cainiot publish them, 
 
 J. B. of \ew York sends ns some cuttinffs for 
 our game of planting. Here they are: 
 ^?^^^ 1. If Jin emperor be planted, what will come np \ 
 I-?^* "^^C" 2. If one's husband be planted, what will come up? 
 
 ""■ ^' 3. If fat p:ii/.;ibeth be planted, what will come up? 
 A. D. L. Your arithmetical puzzle is already published in the " Boy'a 
 Treasury of Sports." 
 
 Little Caroline. We want original enigmas, not second-hand ones. 
 
 CIIAHADK NO. V. 
 
 My first is the chief of delights 
 
 That boys from their cradles desire 
 Its shrill crack more musical far 
 To them than Apollo's sweet lyre, 
 E.xcept when applied with masterly art, 
 To root out the evil that lurks in the heart. 
 
 My second the Bible commends 
 
 To the rich, the wise, and the great, 
 With eloquence pleadeth their cause, 
 And blesseth their lowly estate; 
 They are ever with us, without search are found. 
 The more we give to them, the more we abound. 
 
 When the rich man lies down in the grave, 
 
 He takes not his riches away, 
 And anxious expectants cluster around, 
 To hear what my third has to say : 
 Its mandate is law, and if it sore pinches 
 The fawning false friend, then vainly he flinches. 
 
EDITOEIAL TABLE TALK. 193 
 
 My whole is a sombre brown bird, 
 
 That sadly each night trills his lay; 
 And each passer-by stops to hear 
 What this bird of eve has to sa}'. 
 As ever he sings the same p]:iintive song, 
 Who that has e'er heard him will guess on this long? 
 
 GUESS. 
 
 CHARADE NO. VI. 
 
 Awake, idle sleeper. Up ! up ! and arise, 
 Already my first hath made vocal the skies. 
 Arouse thee! arouse thee! mount horse, and away; 
 For long is the journey before thee to-day. 
 
 Forget not my second, when weary thy steed. 
 By that shall thou urge on his lingering speed ; 
 For many a forest and ford must be passed. 
 Before thou shall reach thine own cottage, at last. 
 
 And ere though thine own cottage garden thou'lt tread 
 The dews of the night on my whole shall be shed, 
 On my beautiful whole, yet less blue and less bright 
 Than the eyes which will meet thee with glistening delight. 
 
 K. 8. P. 
 
 BUDGET OP ANAGRAMS, NO. III. 
 
 1. A PEAR NIPT. 5. I RAN TO STAY. 
 
 2. Ten ate sir. 6. Prove kels. 
 
 3. To A poet. i. i'o sever. 
 
 4. Real sup. 8. See rovek. 
 
 ARTHUR J. WHEELER. 
 
 enigma NO. IV. 
 
 My 2, 5, 1, mny be lucky or unlucky. 
 
 My 7, 3, 4, rivals the diamond. 
 
 In our day there is a rage for the 6, 3, 4. 
 
 My 7, 3, 6, is nn abode. ; ( 
 
 The 3, 6, 7, belongs to all things. 
 
 My 7, 5, 6, is to be found in a railroad depot. 
 
 My whole was ono of the earliest musicians. H. b. p. 
 
 VOL. V. 9 ^p 
 
194 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 ENIGMA FOR SCHOLARS IN ANCIENT GEOGRAPHY AND HISTORY. 
 
 I am composed of 21 letters. 
 
 At 15, 6, 10, 4, in Italy, bells were invented and first used. 
 
 One of the greatest female poets of ancient times was born at 12, 19, 
 8, 13,18, 11, 15, 11, on the island of 18, 11, 1, 5, 9, 1. 
 
 1, 19, 16, 6, 20, was one of the earliest commercial cities of Asia, and 
 its inhabitants were the first who steered their ships at night by the 
 stars. 
 
 The course of the river 12, 11, 4, 20, 16, 11, 3, has given rise to a 
 word of common use in our language. 
 
 In the straits of 1, 4, 10, 14, 12, 19, 1, the greatest naval battle of 
 ancient times was fought. 
 
 The people of 14, 3, 12, 11, 15, 11, are said to have built a wall 
 around their city to keep out the cold. 
 
 The 7, 4, 10, 12, 21, 3, 14, the 2, 14, 16, 12, 9, 3, of Solomon, was 
 built on one of the oae^es of the desert. 
 
 The island of 17, 9, 20, 2, 19, 14, has heard the sighs of many a 
 Christian martyr. 
 
 My whole contains the names of three celebrated ancient geograph- 
 ers. _____^ CAROLINE M. P. 
 
 ANAGRAMS OF SCRIPTURE PROPER NAMES, NO. III. 
 
 1. Pet hens. 3. A hat bag. 
 
 2. Hot Sam, 4. Taw them. 
 
 henry a. danker. 
 
 NAMES OF PLACES IN INDIANA, ENIGMATICALLY EXPRESSED. 
 
 1. A color, and a piece of ground. 
 
 2. A favorite sport among boys, and a weight. 
 
 3. A name, and a collection of houses. 
 
 4. A boy's name, and what boys like. 
 
 6. A necessary article in a house, and a shallow piece of water. 
 6. The opposite of old, and a place of safety. 
 
 SAMUEL B. WHEELOCK. 
 
 COUNTIES IN MICHIGAN, ENIGMATICALLY EXPRESSED. 
 
 1. An eminence, and a valley. 
 
 2. A large body of water, and an article. 
 
 3. A part of a fowl, and a shallow part of a stream. 
 
 4. A place for education, and a small ship. 
 
 5. To be joyful, and to gain. AStiHUR J. wbeslsb. 
 
EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. l95 
 
 answer to charade no. iv. 
 Ratan. 
 Answered by Samuel B. Wheelock, Henry A. Danker, L. and C. 
 Miidg-e, John E. Wheelock, Susan G. HoUingsworlh, Arthur J. Wheeler, 
 Scotchy of Brooklyn, and Irvin G. Van. 
 
 A:!fSWER TO HISTORICAL QUERIES, NO. III. 
 
 21. Frederick the Great was king of Prussia. He was born in 1711, 
 and died 1786, at the age of 75 
 
 22. That the Jews were in England as early as 10G5 is evident from 
 the following law, "That all Jews who were in the kingdom were to 
 be under the protection of the king." They were banished from Eng- 
 land in 1290, and re-admitted in 1655. 
 
 23. Coats of arms were first used in England by the crusaders in the 
 reign of Henry the Third, or 13th century. 
 
 24. Nev/spapers were first printed in Queen Elizabeth's reign, to 
 give notice of the defeat of the Spanish Armada. They were then 
 discontinued till the time commonly assigned to their publication, 1642. 
 
 25. The translation of the Bible now used by the Protestants, orig- 
 inated in 1610, under the direction of James I. 
 
 26. The Spanish Armada was a large fleet sent by Philip the Sec- 
 ond of Spain to conquer England. It figured in 1588. It was de- 
 stroyed partly by a storm, and partly by the English fleet. 
 
 27. Sir Richard Whittington was elected Lord Mayor of London at 
 three respective elections, (in the reigns of Richard the Second and 
 Henry the Fourth and Fifth,) in 1397, 1406, and in 1419. 
 
 28. Constantinople was taken by the Turks in 1453. It resulted in 
 the destruction of the eastern empire of the Romans. 
 
 29. Lisbon was destroyed by an earthquake on November 1, 1755. 
 80. The Sandwich Islands were discovered by Captain Cook in the 
 
 year 1788. l. and c. mudge. 
 
 Also answered by Julia M. Hill, and in part by H. B. Foster. 
 
 a.nbwer to anagrams of scripture proper names, no. ii. 
 
 1. Parthians. 3. Gadarenes. 
 
 2. Phikehas. 4. Kadmiel. 
 
 HENRY B. POSTER. 
 
 Also answered by Hejiry A, Dankor, L. Mudgo, and C. Mudge of 
 Brooklyni N. Y. 
 
196 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 answer to enigma no. iii. 
 
 The Eye. 
 Answered by G. K. Brady, Arthur J. Wheeler, and Albert L. Ed- 
 wards' sister Mary. Thank you, Mary, for your pretty little note and 
 kind invitation. Several of our correspondents have taken it for 
 granted that the solution to this enigma was the letter E, and it is 
 rather a coincidence that it does tit so well. 
 
 answer to rebus no. ii. 
 
 Prelate. 
 Answered by Albert Danker, jr. L. and C. Mudge, and Scotchy of 
 Brooklyn. 
 
 NEW PUBLICATION. 
 
 A New Qazetteer of the Uniled Slates. — One of the most truly val- 
 uable standard works which has been issued from the American pre.ss 
 for many a day, is a Gazetteer of the United States published by the 
 enterprising house of Lippincott, Granibo &i Co. of Philadelphia. It 
 gives a full and comprehensive view of the slates and territories be- 
 longing to the American confederacy, and is the work of Messrs. 
 Thomas Baldwin and J. Thomas. It extends to some 1,400 royal oo- 
 tiivo pages. A work of this kind was greatly needed. Everything in 
 the shape of a gazetteer, such has been the rapid growth of our country, 
 was so far antedated as to be in a great measure useless. This work, 
 embracing the important results of the census of 1850, is one that can 
 be relied up®n, as giving an accurate synopsis of the country as it is at 
 the present time. I have examined it with a great deal of care, taking 
 those towns and villages with which I was intimately acquainted in 
 different portions of the Union, and I have not been able to detect in 
 it a single error, while the information given is much more full than 
 in any previous work of the kind. It must be invaluable as a book of 
 reference. It is tastct\illy and perspicuously printed, and the arrange- 
 ment is such, that the precise information one is in search of can be 
 found with the utmost facility. The price of the book is $4. 
 
THE PET RABBITS. 
 
 199 
 
 THE PET RABBITS, 
 
 m:^k 
 
 -''.'^c 
 
 f^ HERE was once a little girl, whose name was Au- 
 
 ^ gusta. She lived in the city of Philadelphia, 
 
 and could not amuse herself by playing about in 
 
 the green fields, as chihlren whose home is in 
 
 country can. 
 
 rs. Le Hence, Augusta's mother, was a kind and 
 thoughtful parent, and she noticed that her little girl was 
 very fond of pets, so one day, when she was out walking, she pur- 
 chased a beautiful pair of English rabbits, and ordered them sent 
 home, in a covered basket. 
 
 She then hastened her steps, for she wished to be at home when 
 the little creatures arrived, that she might enjoy Augusta's surprise 
 and pleasure. 
 
 About three o'clock, while Mrs. Le Hence was in her chamber, 
 and Augusta swinging in the yard, the bell rung, and in a few 
 moments after Augusta burst into her mother's room, staggering 
 under the weight of the large basket, but with a face glowing with 
 intense excitement and pleasure. 
 
 " Oh, mamma, are these sweet little creatures for me V she 
 cried. 
 
 " My daughter," said mamma, smiling as she spoke, " if I tell 
 you that they are, what return for the gift can you make me?" 
 
 " 0, mamma, I love you just as much now as I possibly can ; 
 my heart is full of love ; but you shall see how very, very good I 
 will be, all my whole life long, to pay for this." 
 
 " Well, take your rabbits from the basket, my child, and let the 
 little boy go. You must ask Nancy to give you some cabbage- 
 leaves for their supper, and request her to remember the addition 
 to our family every market morning. George Harris shall make 
 
200 THE PET RABBITS. 
 
 a place for them to burrow in, when he comes to split up the 
 wood for kindling Nancy's fires." 
 
 In a few days the arrangements for the comfort of the new 
 comers were all completed, and Augusta had given them names — 
 Lily and Daisy. 
 
 Lily was pure white, with red eyes ; but Daisy was spotted with 
 black, had black ears and black eyes. 
 
 The friendship between Augusta and her pets grew continually. 
 They soon preferred the house to the garden, and they followed 
 her about from room to room like kittens. They slept in her lap, 
 came hopping up to her room to awake her in the morning, and 
 were always waiting under her chair for her when she went down 
 to the dining-room, as the bell rung for the meals. 
 
 Augusta was sure no other rabbits ever knew half so much as 
 hers did, and she once told her mother that if she ever grew up to 
 be a woman, and had children of her own, she knew she could 
 never love them any better than she did Lily and Daisy. 
 
 One night, as Augusta was stepping into bed, she heard a 
 strange kind of a noise proceeding from the yard. She had heard 
 that sound once before. Daisy had uttered it when very much 
 terrified by a large dog. 
 
 Augusta leaped from her bed, and before father or mother could 
 stop her, she darted through the door, down stairs, and ran, with 
 her bare feet, over the cold pavement of the yard. 
 
 Her parents followed as fast as they could, and found their child 
 grasping with frantic force the throat of a monstrous black mas- 
 tifi", who had closed his teeth upon the body of poor, poor 
 Daisy. 
 
 Little Lily was near by, too much alarmed for her mate to run 
 away, yet terribly afraid of the awful dog. 
 
 With much difliculty Mr. Le Hence rescued the unfortunate little 
 animal from the mouth of the dog, and drove him from the yard. 
 He then bolted the gate, which some careless servant had left open, 
 and taking his little girl, with her bleeding pet clasped to her 
 bosom, in his arms, he returned to the house, followed by his wife, 
 who carried Lily in also. 
 
 The chamber where Augusta slept was, that night, a scene of 
 
THE PET RABBITS. 201 
 
 lamentation. A sympathizing little heart was bleeding more pain- 
 fully than the wound on bunny's white neck. 
 
 Gentle and faithful nursing soon cured the wounds the dog's 
 teeth had made, but there was some internal injury which caused 
 Daisy to droop day by day. He could not eat as before, and he 
 did not often want to play, but he was just as sensible, gentle, and 
 loving as ever — perhaps more so. 
 
 He seemed to think deeply, would watch the progress of mat- 
 ters and things, and by many signs, showed that he understood all 
 that went on around him. Even Nancy, the cook, noticed this. 
 " Why," said she to Mrs. Le Hence, " that creature is surely hu- 
 man. See how he watchers everything I do, and seems to take 
 comfort in having things kept clean and in order. Why, madam, 
 when I wash this end of the hearth, he even sits quietly on that, 
 until I wipe this dry — then he comes over and sits on the clean 
 end, while I wash the other, and his eyes are on me all the time. 
 I feel as if his heart were human." 
 
 Poor Daisy ! his days were numbered. He did not appear to suffer 
 any, and so his little mistress thought he could not die. Lily was very 
 attentive to him, and their constant and true affection for each other, 
 might well have been a lesson to little human brothers and sisters. 
 
 One day Augusta saw Lily carry Daisy down the cellar stairs 
 upon her back. She laughed, and thought Lily was very kind to 
 her sick brother, and then forgot all about it. 
 
 When dinner-time came, the rabbits were both missing from 
 their mistress' chair. She called them, but they did not come. 
 After looking for them for a few moments, she suddenly remem- 
 bered what she had seen that forenoon. A disagreeable feeling 
 crept over her, and she ran quickly down the cellar stairs. The 
 family were all seated at table, when up from under their very feet 
 came a sharp scream of distress and terror. The father started from 
 his seat, and, followed by the others, descended to the coal cellar. 
 There stood Augusta, in an agony of grief, and before her sat Lily, 
 motionless, keeping guard over the body of Daisy, who Wiis 
 stretched beside her, dead — stone dead. 
 
 Daisy's body was carried up stairs, Lily slowly following. Food 
 was offered her ; but she refused to taste of it. 
 
 VOL. V. 9* Mr 
 
202 PUTTING OUT A LIMB. 
 
 Augusta, in tears and sorrow, wrapped her dear bunny in a 
 winding-sheet, and laid him in a grave among the flowers. Lily 
 was not allowed to see where her companion was buried, but the 
 next morning she was found seated upon the httle grave. 
 
 It was a long time before the faithful mourner could be induced 
 to eat, and Augusta was afraid that Lily would starve to death ; so 
 that her joyj when she did at length begin to nibble at her fa- 
 vorite food, in some measure relieved her sorrow for Daisy's death. 
 
 About this time there came a lady to visit Mrs. Le Hence, who, 
 upon hearing the story of the unfortunate Daisy, became so much 
 interested therein, that she wrote some verses for Augusta, to place 
 upon the garden grave. 
 
 With them I will close this true story of the Pet Rabbits. 
 
 Sleep in thy pleasant resting-place, 
 
 Thou guileless one. 
 Soon didst thou run thy little race, 
 
 Poor litte Bunn. 
 
 Death came in an untimely hour, 
 
 Daisy, for thee. 
 But from his stern and cruel power 
 
 Thou couldst not flee. 
 
 Now, in this peaceful, flowery hed. 
 
 Thy form shall lie. 
 Here gently we have placed thy head. 
 
 Daisy, good hye. 
 
 HELEN BRUCE. 
 
 PUTTING OUT A LIMB. 
 
 A GENTLEMAN relating one night, at a coffee room in Oxford, 
 that Dr. had put out his leg in crossing a kennel, five sur- 
 geons immediately set out for the apartments of the doctor, but 
 returned dismayed, saying that no such thing had happened. 
 " Why," replied the gentleman, " how can a man cross a kennel 
 without putting out his leg ?" 
 
AK EXCURSION THROUGH ETRURIA. 
 
 203 
 
 AN EXCUESIOJSr THROUGH ETRURIA. 
 
 HERE is just enough known of the ancient Etruscans 
 to excite our wonder and admiration, and to make 
 us anxious to learn more of their early history. 
 CVVj> That they excelled the whole world at one time, 
 Greece, perhaps, excepted,, in some of the fine arts, and 
 in many branches of mechanical genius, there is not the 
 shadow of doubt. Their vases, to speak of nothing else, 
 have never been surpassed, whether we regard the tasteful design 
 of these articles, with their peculiar bas-reliefs and paintings, or 
 their execution. But how and when these Etruscans derived the 
 perfect knowledge of the arts which they possessed, and what na- 
 tion had the honor of imparting this knowledge, are questions 
 about which the savans disagree widely enough. It has been 
 warmly contended that Greece herself received her knowledge of 
 the fine arts from Etruria. Be that as it may, however, it is cer- 
 tain that Etruria was nearly at the zenith of her glory while 
 Greece was in a state of semi-barbarism. 
 
 There are two modes by which the curious traveler can see the 
 most noteworthy of the Etruscan ruins. One is, to land at Civita 
 Vecchia, and hunt them up at that point ; and the other, to pro- 
 ceed directly through Etruria from Florence to Rome. I chose the 
 latter mode, and was rewarded for a very fatiguing excursion, by 
 a half hour's gaze at some Etruscan tombs. I would tell the reader 
 ever so much about these — how they were constructed, and of what 
 materials ; what there was in them (that would not take long, as 
 most of the articles of value found there are scattered all over 
 Europe) besides bats and hzards, and what there had been in 
 them. But as I learned very little new, myself, of Etruscan life 
 and manners, I presume that the sketch I might give would bo but 
 a resume of what the reader knows well enough already ; and so 
 I will not run the risk of tiring him with my Etruscan researches. 
 
204 AN EXCURSION THROUGH ETRURIA. 
 
 But he shall have a glance at the lights and shadows of this ex- 
 cursion through old Etruria, nevertheless. 
 
 There are two routes to Rome from Florence. One is by the 
 way of Siena — the other by the way of Perugia. The best route, 
 on most accounts, is the latter, though we — myself and my two 
 Scotch friends — took the other. " And why not take the best 
 route ?" For the same reason, precisely, that Jack did not eat his 
 supper. The first thing we did on our arrival at Florence, was to 
 apply at the office of the diligence for seats to Rome ; but all the 
 seats were engaged for some ten days ahead. It was on the eve 
 of Holy Week, and all the world, with some exceptions, were press- 
 ing Romeward. We were obliged to hire a vettura, at an enor- 
 mous price ; and as we had not time, after seeing the lions of 
 Florence, to go by the way of Perugia (a route which requires more 
 time than the other) without losing some of the exhibitions of 
 Holy Week, we went by Siena. 
 
 A most remarkable personage was Francesco, the man of whom 
 ■we hired our carriage. He was of truly aldermanic proportions, 
 and carried himself right regally. He had the finest cavalli in all 
 Florence. Everybody would tell lis so, if we would take the 
 trouble to ask everybody. And such a vetturino as he would give 
 us ! the greatest driver in Europe, by all odds. He knew all the 
 best inns in Italy, and he would feed us as if we were three princes, 
 all the way. When Francesco had completed this puff of his 
 horses, carriage, and driver, he went off in a perfect tornado of 
 rhapsody on his own merits. He made himself out to be a man 
 of most wonderful capacities. Since Adam's time, there had not 
 been such an adept in the vetturino business, if we were to credit 
 his story. And then, to complete the catalogue of his graces, he 
 remarked, with emphasis, that he had the highest possible sense of 
 honor, and that he would not do violence to the promptings of his 
 conscience, in the slightest particular, for the whole world. He 
 must have set a great store by that conscience of his, as he fre- 
 quently interlarded his encomiums upon himself by the expression, 
 " On my conscience, signore, on my conscience," lifting his eyes 
 solemnly to heaven at the same time, and laying his hand on his 
 capacious stomach, as if it were the shrine in which that inestim- 
 
AN EXCURSION THROUGH ETRURIA. 205 
 
 able treasure was preserved. This last attempt to " suit the action 
 to the word," considering the physical developments of the worthy 
 Francesco, set fire to some shavings of mirthfulness which were 
 lying in the vicinity of Lis three auditors, and both the Scotchman 
 and the Yankee laughed so noisy that a policeman came up to see 
 by what means the peace and quiet of the Grand Duke's domin- 
 ions were disturbed in that fashion. 
 
 We made a bargain with Francesco. He was to take us to 
 Rome in four days and a half, and board and lodge us on the road, 
 at a price somewhat above three times the sum which we after- 
 wards learned he was in the habit of charging in ordinary times — 
 the huonamano (drink-money) to the vetturino, to be graduated 
 under the dictation of our own generosity, according to the manner 
 in which his duties were performed. Then followed the filling up 
 and signing of a blank instrument, duly attested by the govern- 
 ment, of which instrument two copies were made, one for the bene- 
 fit of each party, and which bound all concerned with ever so much 
 minuteness to observe the terms of the compact. 
 
 The day of our departure arrived, Pietro, the vetturino, was in 
 due time installed over us. Now Pietro is an innocent, red-faced 
 square-built, little Italian, who prated much less about his honor 
 and his conscience than his master — but who, nevertheless, impress- 
 ed us quite as favorably. 
 
 There is a railway from Florence to Siena ; and the lights and 
 shadows of our vetturino ride did not properly commence until we 
 reached the latter place. After dinner in a poor inn in this city, 
 •we committed ourselves to the tender mercies of Pietro, and set 
 out. There was room enough in our carriage for half a dozen 
 more passengers, so that we had an enviable amount of room. 
 We had heard shocking stories of the robberies which had just 
 taken place on the route. A prince had been waylaid and robbed 
 of an enormous sum. Another party, in resisting the robbers, had 
 been killed, and robbed to boot. So my careful Scottish compan- 
 ions had purchased two huge horse-pistols in Florence, which they 
 duly loaded with I know not how many balls, and I'-ft them within 
 arm's-reach in the carriage. However, nobody robbed us, nobody 
 killed us, nobody threatened to do either. True, our blood was 
 
206 AN EXCUKSION THROUGH ETRURIA. 
 
 shed pretty fieely on the road ; but the robbers had no hand in 
 that. 
 
 The country for much of the way between Siena and Rome is 
 rather barren of interest. The people, for the most part, are rag- 
 ged, dirty, and poverty-stricken. Countless beggars assailed us at 
 every stopping-place, and they ran after our carriage sometimes 
 for nearly a mile, in the hopes of getting a few coppers. Donkeys 
 abound in this quarter, and so poor that you can count each indi- 
 vidual rib with perfect facility. Yet, poor and apparently inefficient 
 as these beasts are, I saw one of them carrying a great overgrown 
 man, a woman of the same type, together with a huge bag, from a 
 hole in one end of which protruded a head that must have belonged 
 to a girl in her teens, while the opposite end exhibited the horns 
 and beard of a veritable live goat. A favorite mode of riding in 
 these parts, where there are two men upon a donkey, is back to 
 back. In going up a hill, you will not unfrequently see two lazy 
 fellows riding in this manner, and a pedestrian helping himself along 
 by grasping the poor animal's tail. The women in this Etruscan 
 district are about as- uninviting in their personal appearance and 
 habits, as any specimen of feminine humanity which I had the 
 pleasure of seeing in Europe. The market women, who carried 
 vegetables and oranges to the little villages and larger towns on 
 the road, had a very masculine mode of sitting on their donkeys, 
 which would excite some merriment in Broadway, I am confident. 
 These women belonged to the better class, you must understand. 
 The females of the lower class, the real, unmistakable lazzaroni — 
 were the most consummate vagabonds, in appearance. And such 
 inveterate beggars ! They begged with every muscle in their sun- 
 burnt faces, as well as every tone and semi-tone in their squeaking 
 voices. When we threw half-a-dozen small copper pieces into a 
 platoon of them, as we did once in a while, the amazons scrambled, 
 and fought, and pulled each other's hair (they never wear a bonnet, 
 seldom a hat) at a terrible rate. When ^-e did not give them any- 
 thing, which was the case in at least nine instances out of ten, 
 they poured out all the vials of their Italian wrath upon us, and 
 uttered all the anathemas in their vocabularies. 
 
 The first night after leaving Siena, we slept, or tried to sleep — 
 
AN EXCURSION THROUGH ETRURIA. 207 
 
 the fleas allowed us to perform that somewhat necessary operation 
 but imperfectly — at La Scala. Oue of the most notable places on 
 the route is Bolsena This little village is pleasantly situated a little 
 distance from the margin of a lake of the same name. It is on 
 the site of the Etruscan city of Volsinii. Beautiful, however, as is 
 the village, with the adjacent lake, there exists here the most 
 virulent malaria, and it is dangerous for travelers, and even for the 
 natives who are engaged in cultivating the soil, to visit the imme- 
 diate vicinity of the marshes around the lake during the night. It 
 was at Bolsena that, according to the chronicles of the Romish 
 Church, was performed that astonishing miracle, in commemoration 
 of which, Pope Urban IV. instituted the festival of Corpus Domini. 
 The miracle they tell us took place in 1263. A Bohemian priest, 
 officiating in this place, doubted the real presence of Christ in the 
 celebration of the Eucharist. He went one day, sceptical as 
 usual, on this head, to the church of Santa Cristina ; and while 
 engaged in consecrating the host, the blood flowed from the wafer, 
 and dropped upon the floor. Of course he was convinced of his 
 error ; and hence the origin of the festival of the body of our Lord. 
 We went to the church to see where the blood fell. A monk was 
 holding forth with great earnestness when we went in. After he 
 had got through, we were conducted to a dark and dirty vault, 
 and pointed to a space covered with an iron grating, which we 
 were assured was the identical spot where the blood fell. Upon 
 our expressing a slight doubt touching the miracle, the priest de- 
 clared that, if we had come a little earlier — it was the hour of the 
 eveningf twilio-ht — he would have shown us the blood. 
 
 The lake is now, and from time immemorial has been, famous 
 for its fine fish. Its eels are puff"ed by the muse of Dante, who tells 
 us that Martin IV. testified his admiration of them, by eating so 
 many at once that they were the means of his death. 
 
 Viterbo is another place of interest. It is situated in the Papal 
 dominions, and contains a population of some fifteen thousand. 
 The city used to be famous for its fountains, and its beautiful wo- 
 men. The fountains we saw — the beautiful women did not show 
 themselves. We spent a short time in the cathedral, dedicated to 
 St. Lorenzo, where we saw some fine pictures. It was at the high 
 
208 AN EXCURSION THROUGH ETRURIA. 
 
 altar of this cathedral that Prince Henry of England, son of the 
 Earl of Cornwall, was murdered by Guy de Montfort. We were 
 shown the place, too, in the piazza of this cathedral, where Adrian 
 IV. the only Englishman who ever wore the tiara, compelled the 
 Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, to hold his stirrup while he dis- 
 mounted from his mule. 
 
 At Ronciglione, a little dirty town, containing some four thousand 
 inhabitants, and which is said to be the site of an Etruscan city, 
 we visited a cemetery connected with a monastery of Capuchins. 
 Here an old woman, for the sum of two francs, showed us into a 
 room filled with skulls and other human bones, arranged in the 
 most fantastic manner imaginable. It was a Golgotha, in the 
 strictest sense of the term. Skulls grinned upon us from every 
 point. The old crone who acted as our conductor, took the money 
 in a vessel formed of half a skull. Fancy chapels, with a Madonna 
 in the centre, were formed by an ingenious arrangement of innu- 
 merable bones. Even the Papal arms at the entrance of the build- 
 ing, were represented by the same process. Many of the souls 
 belonging to these dismembered bodies are supposed to be in pur- 
 gatory still ; and the woman assured us upon her honor, that the 
 money we gave her would be conscientiously devoted to masses for 
 their oenefit. It would not be her fault, she added, if they re- 
 mained in that awful place. She expressed a great deal of sur- 
 prise when one of my companions told her there was no purgatory 
 in England. " I don't know what to make of it," she said, " for 
 they tell me that there are multitudes of English people in hell." 
 Poor old woman ! her gray hair and shriveled skin indicate that 
 her bones will soon be among those she now so gaily exhibits for 
 two pauls ; and her soul — but God is just, and she is a poor ig- 
 norant creature. To whom little is given, of such will but little be 
 required. 
 
 The last night of our vetturino excursion we slept at a miserable 
 inn, at a place which I will not dignify by giving it a name, and 
 which was situated nearly in the centre of the crater of an extinct 
 volcano. The breakfast provided for us at this inn, take it all in 
 all, was quite a curiosity, and to one inclined to philosophise rather 
 than to eat, it might have been tolerably acceptable. To us, how- 
 
MUSIC FROM SHORE. 209 
 
 ever, who were hungry, it presented rather a cheerless aspect. I 
 assure you the best elements in it were a dozen native figs, in eat- 
 ing which we had to dispute the ground with worms. 
 
 Reader, if it should ever fall to your lot to travel between Flor- 
 ence and Rome, avoid the route by Siena. ,JIeed the exhortation 
 of one who wishes you well, and go by the way of Perugia. Make 
 a note of that. And another thing. By all means take the dili- 
 gence, provided it will take you. If you trust to a vetturino, you 
 are sure to be conducted to the most miserable inns, where you 
 will be entertained after a fashion worse than (if you are the hu- 
 mane man I take you to be) you would entertain your dog. 
 
 MUSIC FROM SHORE. 
 
 A SOUND comes on the rising breeze, 
 A s\veet and lovely sound! 
 
 Piercing the tumult of the seas, 
 That wildly dash'd around. 
 
 From land, from sunny land, it comes, 
 From hills with murmuring trees, 
 
 From paths by still and happy homes 
 That sweet sound on the breeze? 
 
 Why should its faint and passing sigh 
 
 Thus bid my quick pulse leap? — 
 No part in earth's glad melody 
 
 Is mine upon the deep. 
 
 Yet blessings, blessings on the spot 
 
 Whence those rich breathings flow! 
 Kind hearts although they know me not, 
 
 Like mine must beat and glow. 
 
 And blessings, from the bark that roams 
 
 O'er solitary seas, 
 To those that far, in happy homes 
 
 Give sweet sounds to the breeze! 
 
 Mrs. Remans. 
 
210 THE OLD man's WELCOME. 
 
 THE OLD MAN'S WELCOME. 
 
 BY T. S. ARTHUR. 
 
 Came, faint old man ! arid sit awhile Come, rest awhile. 'Twill not be long 
 Beside our cottage-door ; I Ere thy faint head shall know 
 
 A cup of water from the spring, | A deeper, calmer, better rest, 
 A loaf to bless the poor, | Than cometh here below 
 
 We give with cheerful hearts, for 
 God 
 Hath given us of His store. 
 
 Too feeble thou for daily toil. 
 Too weak to earn thy bread — 
 
 For the weight of many, many years 
 Lies heavy on thy head — 
 
 A wanderer, Want thy weary feet 
 Hath to our cottage led. 
 
 When God, who loveth every one, 
 Shall call thee hence to go. 
 
 Heaven bless thee in thy wander- 
 ings I 
 
 Wherever they may be. 
 And make the ears of every one 
 
 Attentive to thy plea : 
 A double blessing will be theirs, 
 
 Who kindly turn to thee. 
 
 SECRET OF HAPPINESS. 
 
 AN Italian bishop, who had struggled through many difficulties 
 without repining, and been much opposed without manifest- 
 ing impatience, being asked by a friend to communicate the se- 
 cret of his being always so happy, replied : " It consists in a sin- 
 gle thing, and that is, making a right use of my eyes." His friend, 
 in surprise, begged him to e.xplain his meaning. " Most willingly," 
 replied the bishop. " la whatsoever state I am, I first of all look 
 up to heaven, and remember that my great business is to get there. 
 1 then look down upon earth, and call to mind how small a space 
 I shall soon fill in it. I then look abroad in the world, and see 
 what multitudes are, in all respects, less happy than myself. And^ 
 thus I learn where true happiness is placed, where all my cares 
 mu.-st end, and how little reason I ever had to murmur, or to be 
 otherwise than thankful. And to live in this spirit is to be al- 
 ways happy." 
 
THE OLD MANS WKLCoMK. 
 
THE COCOA TKEE. 
 
 218 
 
 THE COCOA TEEE. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENXH, BY LAURA LOVELL. 
 
 .'/''' R were on our way to the Mnrquesas, and our ship, 
 beneath the burning sky of the tropics, was seek- 
 ing those sandy shores surrounded by reefs, 
 where the Indian Ocean sees daily the smallest of ani- 
 malculae, the imperceptible coral polype, encroach upon 
 its shores, contract its immense basin, and raise against 
 the fury of the tempest progressive and immovable bar- 
 riers. We soon discovered one of those numerous little islands 
 which these microscopic animals have caused to emerge from the 
 bosom of the waters, and which they enlarge daily, till they form, 
 perhaps, a continent. Already this island, which probably was for- 
 merly only a rock hid beneath the waves, was adorned with smil- 
 ing verdure, promising the naturalists of our expedition a rich 
 harvest of new plants. We let down the boat and landed. But 
 alas ! the hopes of our savans were disappointed, for all the floral 
 wealth of the country was limited to a few species of grass, and 
 some ferns, and the groves which we saw were composed of a single 
 species of tree. The animals of this newly-discovered land were 
 also few, for we perceived only some seals crawling with difficulty 
 over the rocks of the reefs, and some bats as large as rabbits, sus- 
 pended by the hind claws to the long and stiff leaves of the trees ; 
 the birds were all aquatic, and we distinguished among them sea- 
 gulls, divers, and wild ducks. 
 
 I asked of our botanist, that is to say, the surgeon, what were 
 those ungraceful, crooked, meagre trees, half overthrown, and sup- 
 ported only by resting on each other. 
 " They are cocoa-trees," replied he. 
 T was stupefied with astonishment. 
 
214 THE COCOA TREE. 
 
 " Come, doctor," said I, " I see that you wish to mystify me. 
 What ! those ugly yellowish tufts at the extremity of those slender 
 and crooked bundles, the cocoa-trees so magnificent in the descrip- 
 tions of voyagers and in the decorations of the opera ?" 
 
 " Nothing else." 
 
 " What ! Is that the tree which, according to botanists, unites 
 elegance with majesty ; whose trunk or stipe rises upright like a 
 column ; whose verdant head waves gracefully in the air at a height 
 of eighty or a hundred feet ?" 
 
 " Absolutely that, making allowances that the height is exag- 
 gerated by one half, that the column is crooked and inclining, and 
 that the verdant head is a little the color of hay. 
 
 " As you see, my dear sir, the trunk or stipe is neither upright 
 nor columnar as the botanists say, but often crooked, and always 
 bent or inclining ; at least I have always found it so, and I have 
 traversed every land between the tropics where the cocoa-tree can 
 grow. The trunk ordinarily attains forty feet in height, rarely 
 fifty, and never more. It is terminated by a sort of umbrella com- 
 posed of from twelve to twenty pinnate leaves, with ensiform and 
 horizontal leaflets, and each leaf is usually eight or nine feet in 
 length, sometimes ten or twelve, and even more. At the internal 
 base of the lower ones, may be seen large spathes or oval sacks, 
 which give passage to a spadix, or branch or bunch of flowers, 
 to which succeed fruits usually of the size of the head of a 
 man." 
 
 The surgeon stopped there, and as our disappointed naturalists 
 were in very bad humor, as especially I had taken on my own ao 
 count a horrible antipathy to the cocoa-trees, from the fact that I 
 had traveled four thousand leagues to see one, we prepared to re- 
 enter our boat, and return to the vessel. Suddenly our geologist 
 began to pufl" like a hippopotamus ; he seized the arm of the doc- 
 tor with a sort of feverish agitation, and pointed to a little pillar 
 of smoke which rose above a group of palm-trees. Now you must 
 know that our geologist was a zealous partisan of the theory of the 
 formation of the globe by fire, &c. 
 
 " I tell you, doctor," exclaimed he, as soon as his agitation 
 would allow him to speak, " these islands of the Southern sea, like 
 
THE COCOA TREE. 215 
 
 all the continents and all the mountains of the globe, evidently owe 
 their origin to the central fire which has launched them from the 
 bosom of the waters ; all these islands. are volcanoes, and there is 
 smoke, an immense column of smoke, rising from an enormous 
 crater." 
 
 The geologist immediately turned his back upon the sea, and 
 began to run towards the crater. We followed him as well as 
 we could. 
 
 " You see," said he, turning from time to time towards the 
 doctor, "here are your labors of the polypes and your banks 
 of coral entirely at fault against the evidence of my volcanoes, 
 and—" 
 
 The geologist stood as if stupefied, for we had reached the grove 
 and found there no crater, but simply a little fire of dried grass, 
 on which a family of Indians were cooking shell-fish recently taken 
 from the bosom of the sea. Our sudden apparition alarmed these 
 poor people a little ; but as our surgeon spoke the language of 
 this Archipelago very well, he soon re-assured them. We gave 
 them some trifles, and in return they invited us to share their 
 repast, which we gladly accepted. 
 
 They ofi"ered us first, to refresh us, a cool, mild, saccharine, lim- 
 pid liquor, something like milk, but much more agreeable. 
 
 " What is that ?" asked I of the doctor. 
 
 " It is the milk of the cocoa-nut." 
 
 " Ah !" 
 
 They afterwards served up to us a white substance, of a some- 
 what honey transparency, a little hard, bearing a similarity to an 
 almond. I ate several pieces with much appetite, then asked what 
 it was. 
 
 " It is the meat of the cocoa-nut," said the doctor. 
 
 " Ah !" 
 
 An instant afterwards, an Indian woman brought a black pitcher, 
 polished, shining, carved, though somewhat rudely ; it was of a 
 sort of wood, very hard, very solid, and resembling ebony. 
 
 " It is the shell of the cocoa-nut," said the doctor, " and ihcbe 
 ibianders have no other dishes." 
 
 - Bah 1" 
 
216 THE COCOA TREE. 
 
 Then they filled this cup with an excellent spirituous liquor, 
 which I believe would intoxicate a man as well as champagne. 
 
 " To obtain the palm-wine," said the doctor, " they cut the spathe 
 of the cocoa-nut as soon as it is formed ; a limpid sap issues from 
 it, which is left to ferment during twenty-four hours and becomes 
 this liquor." 
 
 Then they brought on the grass, which served as a table-cloth, a 
 large basket woven so closely and with so much art, that it would have 
 held water. This species of plate contained an enormous stewed 
 cabbage, with an excellent sauce made of butter and milk. I found 
 this dish very palatable, and ate of it with the greatest pleasure, 
 remarking meanwhile that the leaves of this cabbage were longer 
 and thinner than usual, and that its flavor was more delicate. 
 
 " The dish which contains this stew," said the doctor, " is made 
 with the flexible sides of the leaves of the cocoa-tree ; the cabbage 
 is no other than the terminal bud of this tree, cut while it is yet 
 in the herbaceous state ; the sauce is composed of an emulsion of 
 the cocoa-nut before its maturity. 
 
 " This is a singular tree !" exclaimed I. 
 
 The last dish which was served up to us consisted of some lob- 
 sters cooked in sea-water, and dressed with oil and vinegar. 
 
 " How do you like this oil ?" asked the doctor. 
 
 " It is very good," replied I ; " better than most olive oil." 
 
 " It is the oil of the cocoa ; and what do you think of this vine- 
 gar ?" 
 
 " It is very strong, and has a good taste." 
 
 " It is the milk of the cocoa-nut soured in the sun. But hold, 
 here is our host oflfering you a bit of sugar candy to sweeten you, 
 and this sugar is the sap of the cocoa-tree, boiled and crystallized, 
 or rather dried." 
 
 " What ! has this tree furnished all our dinner ?" 
 
 " Better than that ; it is with the fibres of its trunk that those 
 pretty mats on which we are seated are made. The coquetish 
 hat of our hostess, which you may have taken for straw, is woven 
 of the young leaves of this tree. The mantle of the husband and 
 the dress of the wife were woven of the husk which envelopes the 
 nut at its maturity ; the matress on which they lie, and the soft 
 
A KEMARKABLE TELESCOPE. 217 
 
 substance which fills it, the sails of his canoe, the line with which 
 he fishes, and a thousand other articles of furniture are of the same 
 material. The palisades which enclose his little garden, the frame 
 of his cabin, are made of the cocoa-wood ; the roof, impenetrable 
 to the sun, wind, and rain, consist of its leaves skilfully interwoven. 
 With the filaments at the base of the leaves and the branches, the 
 Indian manufactures cables and lighter cords, more supple and 
 durable than those of hemp. Finally, the parasol which our hosts 
 placed over your head to shelter you from a burning sun, was en- 
 tirely composed of the divers parts of this valuable tree. 
 
 " So the Indians cultivate it with great care. As it has no 
 branches, and produces no scions, it can be multiplied only by the 
 seed, and for this purpose they choose the largest and healthiest 
 nuts, with an unbroken husk, plant them as near as possible to 
 the sea-shore, or by the side of any other brackish water ; mean- 
 while they grow equally well in all kinds of earth, provided it be 
 moist, and especially where the precaution is taken to lay a bed 
 of salt at the bottom of the hole in which the nut is placed. 
 While the tree is young, the Indians water it freely with salt 
 water, and every year, when it has become productive, throw at its 
 foot a certain quantity of salt. Between the tropics, the cocoa-nut 
 germinates in fifteen or twenty days." 
 
 The firing of a cannon warned us to return on board our ship. 
 As I passed, I threw a last glance on the cocoa-trees on the shore ; 
 but as my prejudices had been removed, I found them taller, more 
 upright, more elegant, in fine, adorned with all the utility I had 
 just discovered in them. These trees are the providence of the 
 islands of the Indian Archipelago. 
 
 ^ (^^ 
 
 A EEMAEKABLE TELESCO'PE. 
 
 " Do you see that church V^ said Sir Frederick Flood, to a friend. 
 " No, it is scarcely discernible, and I am short-sighted/' '* Ay — I 
 know it — it is a mile ofl'; but when I look at it through my excel- 
 lent new telescope, it brings it so close, I can hear the organ play- 
 
 mg." 
 
 VOL. V. 10 
 
218 
 
 THE GAZELLE, OR ANTELOPE. 
 
 THE GAZELLE, OR ANTELOPE. 
 
 OF the antelope, or gazelle, there are several species. They have 
 all some resemblance to the deer family, and in some of their 
 habits are very much like the goat tribe. This is the same animal 
 which in the Bible is called the roe. The horns of the gazelle, 
 which are long and slender, are annulated, or ringed. Of ail ani- 
 mals in the world, this one has, probably, the most beautiful eyes. 
 They are exceedingly brilliant, and yet present such an expression 
 of meekness, softness, and gentleness, that they often figure in the 
 lays of the Eastern poets. Moore, too, you may recollect, alludes 
 to this circumstance, in one of the most beautiful of all his lyrics : 
 
 '* I never nursed a dear gazelle, 
 
 To glad me -with, its soft, blue eye, 
 But when it came to know me well, 
 And love me, it was sure to die." 
 
THE GAZELLE, OR ANTELOPE. '219 
 
 The gazelle of the mountain is more attractive than the gazelle 
 of the plain. In general, the flesh of these animals is excellent, as 
 they feed on the tender shoots of trees. Some form herds of two 
 or three thousand, while others keep in small troops of five or six. 
 The chase of these animals is a favorite diversion among the eastern 
 nations ; and the accounts that are given of it supply ample proofs 
 of the swiftness of the antelope tribe. The greyhound, the fleetest 
 of dogs, is usually outrun by them ; and the sportsman is obliged 
 to have recourse to the falcon, which is trained to the work, for 
 seizing on the animal, and impeding its motion, that the dogs may 
 thus have an opportunity of overtaking it. In India and Persia, a 
 sort of leopard is made use of in the chase ; and this animal takes 
 its prey not by swiftness of foot, but by its astonishing springs, 
 which are similar to those of the antelope ; and yet if the leopard 
 should fail in its first attempt, the game escapes. The fleetness of 
 this animal has been proverbial in the country which it inhabited 
 from the earliest times. The speed of Asahel is beautifully com- 
 pared to it. 
 
 Professor Pallas, in his travels through different provinces of 
 Russia and northern Asia, has described the method of hunting 
 the antelope, which is the principal amusement of the Tonguses, 
 who inhabit the heaths of Daouria beyond the lake Baikal. They 
 choose for this purpose the level and open tracts, situated near a 
 mountain, a river, or a forest. In autumn, at which season their 
 horses are most vigorous, they form companies of one hundred and 
 fifty or two hundred hunters, all on horseback, attended by led 
 horses. Each has a trained dog ; and they are armed with bows 
 and arrows. This chase commonly lasts several days. When ar- 
 rived at the rendezvous, they send before three or four s1iar}>sighted 
 huntsmen, to get a vie"w of the game from the heights or moun- 
 tains, who stop to wait for their companions, as soon as they per- 
 ceive the antelopes. When the troop comes in sight, the scouts 
 make sio-nals to them, or by some evolutions of their horses, sig- 
 nify the place in which the antelopes feed, and the course that must 
 be taken in order to come up with them. Tiie troop then breaks 
 into several divisions, and the hunters separate at some distance 
 from each other, in order to form a gieat ring. Those on the 
 
220 LIVING WITHOUT A DESIGN. 
 
 wings advance toward the pasturage of the herd, and endeavor to 
 conceal themselves behind the heights till the animals are sur- 
 rounded. 
 
 The ring then closes. When the antelopes, at the approach of 
 the hunters, attempt to escape, the men rush on them, chase them 
 from one party to another, terrifying them with their shouts and 
 the whistling of their arrows, which, for that purpose, are furnished 
 with a button of bone, perforated beneath the head. In this man- 
 ner they kill all that they can reach. This chase is more successful 
 when the scene of it lies near a river or mountainous forest, as 
 the antelopes or heath-goats never take to the water, though long 
 and furiously harassed, but rather strive to escape by sudden and 
 vast leaps through the troop of their pursuers. They are, mostly, 
 equally shy of forests. They are no sooner hunted into a wood, 
 than they are bewildered among the trees so as not to be able to 
 move a hundred paces, but run their heads against every tree, and 
 soon fall breathless. 
 
 In some other countries, the following method is adopted for 
 taking the gazelle : A tame one is trained to join those of its own 
 species, whenever it comes near them. When the hunter discovers 
 a herd of these animals together, he puts a noose around the horns 
 of the tame gazelle in such a way, that if any of the wild ones 
 touch it, they get immediately entangled. As soon as the tame ani- 
 mal approaches the herd, the males advance to oppose him, and in 
 butting with their horns, are caught in the noose. Finding them- 
 selves entangled, they make a desperate struggle for liberty, though 
 all in vain ; for the hunter is crouching not far off, and he imme- 
 diately falls upon them and secures them. 
 
 LIYING WITHOUT A DESIGN. 
 
 There are some that live without any design at all, and only 
 pass in the world like straws on a river ; they do not go, but are 
 carried. The world could get along very well without them. 
 
SCOTTISH PERSEVERAN'CE. 
 
 t 
 
 221 
 
 SCOTTISH PERSEVERANCE. 
 
 '^---K..^' 
 
 PERSON in the west of Scotland, who had engao-pd 
 in the manufacture of a certain description of goods, 
 then recently introduced into that part of tlie coun- 
 try, found it necessary, or conjectured it might be 
 ^ <-^ profitable, to estabHsh a permanent connection with some 
 
 ^■^ respectable mercantile house in London. With this design 
 he packed up a quantity of goods, equipped himself for the journey, 
 and departed. He traveled on foot to the metropolis. Upon his 
 arrival, he made diligent inquiry as to those who were likely to 
 be his best customers ; and accordingly, proceeded to call upon one 
 of the most opulent drapers, with whom he resolved to establish a 
 regular correspondence. When Saunders entered the draper's shop, 
 he found it crowded with purchasers, and the clerks all bustling 
 busily at the back of the counter, handing out their respective 
 wares to their respective customers. Saunders waited what he 
 thought a reasonable length of time, then laid down his pack, his 
 bonnet and staff upon the counter, and inquired, in his broad Scotch 
 dialect, for " the head o' the hoose." One of the clerks asked what 
 he wanted. The Scotchman's answer was, as usual, a question : 
 
 " Want ye aught i' my line, sir ?" 
 
 " No 1" was the prompt reply of the person interrogated, who 
 accompanied his negative with a look of contempt for tlie mean ap- 
 pearance of the itinerant Scotch merchant. 
 
 " Wull ye no take a look o' the gudes, sir ?" was Saunders' next 
 query. 
 
 " No, not at all ; I have not time," replied the clerk, •' Take 
 them away — take them away." 
 
 " Ye'll albins (perhaps) find them worth your while ; and I 
 doubt na but ye'll buy," said Saunders, as he coolly proceeded to 
 untie and unstrip his burden. 
 
222 SCOTTISH PERSEVERANCE. 
 
 " Go away — go away !" was repeated half a dozen times with 
 great impatience ; but the persevering Scotchman still persisted. 
 
 " Get along, you old Scotch fool !" cried the clerk completely 
 out of temper, as he pushed the already exposed contents of the 
 pack off the counter ; " get along." 
 
 Saunders looked up in the individual's face with a wide mouth 
 and an enlarged pair of eyes, then looking down to his estate that 
 lay scattered among his feet, looked up again, and exclaimed, 
 
 " And wull ye no really buy aught ? But ye dinna ken ; ye 
 haena seen the gudes yet ;" and so saying, he slowly gathered them 
 up, and replaced them on the counter. 
 
 " Get out of the shop, sir !" was the peremptory and angry com- 
 mand that followed his last appeal. 
 
 Saunders, with great gravity and self-possession, said, " Are ye 
 in earnest, fiien' ?" 
 
 " Yes, certainly," was the reply ; and that reply was succeeded 
 by an unequivocal proof of sincerity on the part of the person who 
 made it, when he picked up Saunders' bonnet, and whirled it out 
 into the street. 
 
 The cool Scotchman stalked deliberately and gravely in quest of 
 his Stewarton " head-gear." After giving it two or three hearty 
 slaps upon the wall without the door, he re-entered, very com- 
 posedly wringing the moisture out of it, looked over to the per- 
 son who had served him so, and said, with a genuine Scotch smile, 
 
 " Yon was but an ill-faured turn, man ; ye'll surely tak a look 
 o' the gudes noo I" 
 
 The master-draper himself, who was standing all the while in 
 the shop, admiring the patience and perseverance of the old man, 
 and feeling a little compunction for the unceremonious manner in 
 which he had been treated, examined the contents of the pack, 
 found them to be articles he stood in need of, purchased them, 
 ordered an additional regular supply, and thus laid the foundation 
 of an opulent mercantile house, that has now flourished for some 
 ofeneratioES. 
 

nature's woeds to her pupil. 225 
 
 NATUEE'S "WOEDS TO HEE PUPIL. 
 
 By a river I sat in the sunset. 
 
 What murmured the river to thee? 
 "Let thy life's young tide in the light of love glide 
 To the sea of eternity." 
 
 A tree o'er my head was waving. 
 And what said the old oak tree ? 
 " Learn, learn of my shade the weary to aid 
 With comfort and sympathy." 
 
 A bird on a bough was singing. 
 What carolled the merry bird ? 
 " Dear child, dost thou sing hymns of praise to thy King, 
 With infancy's lisping word ?" 
 
 A bee came around me buzzing. 
 And what said the busy bee? 
 " O, let not youth's day pass in idling away ; 
 Or age will be sad to thee." 
 
 A rose at my side was blooming. 
 What whispered the gentle rose ? 
 " With the heart's fre.sh bloom smile away all the gloom 
 That care o'er the hearth-stone throws." 
 
 A star came out in the twilight. 
 What word had the twinkling star ? 
 "May peace on thee shine from the glory divine, 
 
 Where God and the angels are !" l. l. 
 
 GEEAT AND SMALL MINDS. 
 
 Somebody has said that our minds are like ill-hung vehicles. 
 When they have little to carry, they raise a prodigious clatter ; 
 when heavily laden, they neither creak nor rumble. 
 
 VOL. V. 10* MT 
 
226 
 
 ADVENTURES WITH GHOSTS. 
 
 ADYENTUEES "WITH GHOSTS. 
 
 ^ 
 
 Y friend Mrs. Hall, who knows so well the way to 
 the young heart, has kindly furnished me with 
 two stories about fancied ghosts, which she de- 
 sires raav be presented to my readers ; and here they are, 
 in the identical words of this lady's manuscript : 
 
 Many years ago, when I was quite young, I was sit- 
 tincr late one evening, with my mother and sister, by a cheerful fire 
 in the parlor, (it was before stoves and grates were as much used as 
 now,) quietly knitting and reading, as has been my habit from 
 cliildhood. Out of the parlor opened a large dining-room. Beyond 
 that was a room for cooking, and still farther back, an entry-way 
 and wood room. My mother took a light, and rose to retire. She 
 was passing into the dining-room, when she saw, standing in the 
 door-way of the back room, which was open, a man, holding what 
 appeared at that distance, and by the dim light, to be a knife. 
 
 "Job!" said my mother, calling the name of a member of the 
 family, who had been out during the evening. 
 But Job made no answer. 
 
 *' Job !" said my mother, a little startled, and raising her voice. 
 But Job, or whoever else it might be, maintained a rigid silence. 
 My mother was far from being a superstitious woman, but she had 
 a great horror of thieves and robbers, and for aught she knew, this 
 mysterious stranger might be one, or he might be either drunk 
 or crazy. She therefore deemed it prudent to retrace her steps, and 
 call up my father, who had retired, before making any further ac- 
 quaintance with him. Now, then, we formed quite a procession — 
 my venerable father in the advance, my mother and sister next, 
 and I in the rear ; for, though my heart beat violently, I could not 
 think of staying away when there was so much risk. 
 
AJ) VENTURES WITH GHOSTS. 227 
 
 My father spoke in tones far more commanding than those of my 
 
 mother. No answer came, but still the person stood, till, as we 
 came cautiously near him, he vanished, and, what was most singu- 
 lar, the door, which we had all seen distinctly to be open, was 
 noiselessly closed. We all marched back ; but in turning again 
 toward the door, we saw the apparition standing as before. 
 
 " It must have been some shadow," exclaimed my sister ; and 
 she set about searching for the cause of so singular an appearanc*^, 
 which, although there had been a light in the parlor scores of 
 times with the doors all open, had never appeared before. Our 
 light was put out. Still it was there. We thought it must shine 
 from the parlor ; but the only lamp left there was far back, and 
 not even a ray of light showed in the dining-room or porch when 
 the one we had been using w^as extinguished. Again and again 
 we examined the apparition, and it always remained till we ap- 
 proached it nearly wnth a light, and then it vanished. 
 
 This certainly might have answered to many a superstitious person 
 for a ghost, and kept him or her awake all night, dreading some 
 terrible misfortune, of which this dark apparition was the forerun- 
 ner. I confess to have been considerably frightened myself, but my 
 mother and sister, knowing that the appearance must proceed from 
 some natural cause, did not rest till they ascertained what that 
 cause was. The light did not indeed shine out at the door, but it 
 happened to be placed just where it shone very brightly upon a 
 large glass. The reflection passed through the whole length of the 
 house, and struck upon the farthest door. The person who was 
 passing out produced the dark shadow, and the light held in the 
 hand might easily be mistaken for a knife in the dim distance. 
 The light from the glass was precisely the size of the door, and 
 even after we had ascertained the cause, the illusion w^as so per- 
 fect that we could scarcely believe the evidence of our own senses. 
 My terrors were at an end, and I went to bed with the sage reflec- 
 tion that many a ghost of huge dimensions, if subject to close in- 
 vestigation, might be found to be caused by a rejlection. 
 
 Some fifty years ago there lived in an old town in the north 
 of Massachusetts, which you would now hardly recognize — for il 
 has changed its name as well as appearance — a clergyman, whoso 
 
228 ADVENTURES WITH GHOSTS. 
 
 white head has long since been laid in the grave. He had one 
 little daughter, whom we will call Lilian. When Lily was about 
 seven years old, her parents went to a distant part of the State, to 
 'be absent several weeks, taking the younger children with them, 
 and leaving Lily and a brother older in the care of a domestic, 
 to whom many charges were given, to take especial care of the 
 children, and to conduct everything in a quiet and orderly manner. 
 Jeanette made fair promises ; but scarcely were the old chaise 
 and ambling pony, which bore the minister and his wife, out of 
 sight, ere the deceitful girl began to plan, not how to take care of 
 the interests of her employers, and use her time, which belonged to 
 them, to the best advantage, but how she could find the most sport 
 for herself and her giddy companions. The information was soon 
 circulated, (or perhaps had been before,) that Jeanette would now 
 be " at home" to all her young associates ; and then such throngs 
 as were coming and going ; such dancing of reels and such play- 
 ing of plays ; such shouts of laughter and screams of fun, the quiet 
 old parsonage had never seen before. From morning until evening, 
 and from evening far into the night, the revels were kept up, very 
 much to the annoyance of the staid and discreet little Lilian. She 
 was shocked to see even the tidy " spare room" appropriated to the 
 company, and wild girls, with rude curiosity, peeping into the 
 drawers of her mother's best bureau. Even her father's study, 
 which she scarcely dared enter on tiptoe, was not secure from in- 
 trusion ; and to her the coarse feet of rough young men, and the 
 senseless tittering of giddy girls in this room, seemed like desecra- 
 tion. She saw that tlie stores of provision left by her careful 
 mother were rapidly disappearing before the keen appetites of 
 Jeanette's visitors. She saw a great deal that she knew her pa- 
 rents would not approve, and, as she was a reflecting as well as 
 an observing little girl, she strongly suspected that there were worse 
 things done when she was sent away on some trifling pretence, or 
 purposely made angry, that she might absent herself. She was 
 very sure, too, that Jeanette, who was not particularly anxious for 
 her comfort in any other respect, was not quite so careful of her 
 health as she pretended to be, when she sent her so very early to 
 bed. 
 
ADVENTURES WITH GHOSTS. 229 
 
 She had^ great many wise reflections in her curly little head; 
 but what could she do? Fifty years since there was not, as now, 
 a post-office in every considerable neighborhood, and a mail nearly 
 every day. Lily did not expect to hear from her parents, or to 
 have an opportunity of sending a message to them, before their 
 return. She knew that she had no authority, and her cautious 
 attempts at advice were received in such a way, that she was sure 
 that to try remonstrance would only draw down the anger of Jean- 
 ette upon herself. So she resolved to be quiet, but to watch 
 very closely all that was passing, and if any way was opened by 
 which a little girl like her could effect anything, she would be 
 ready to improve it. 
 
 One night the company was unusually large and merry. Lily 
 had been sent to bed at a very early hour, and, as the parsonage 
 was far removed from any neighbors, they felt under no restraint. 
 They ran and danced, shouted and laughed, till the old house rang 
 again, and their loud screams might have been heard a long way 
 on the still night air. 
 
 Suddenly every voice was hushed ! The tramping of feet was 
 stopped. The hearts of the men beat hurriedly, and the girls grew 
 pale with terror ! for, directly above their heads came a reverber- 
 ating noise which all heard, even above that of wild revelry. 
 
 It was not the wind — it could not be thunder — but it was 
 nearer and more frightful than either. At first it came with loud 
 raps, like a great supernal hammer, as if to fasten the attention 
 of the thoughtless revelers. Then the strokes grew lighter and 
 quicker, and after a succession of these, it closed in a faint '' rap, 
 tap, tap," which seemed to their excited minds like the last solemn 
 warning from the sepulchre. The reverberations died away in the 
 old chamber, and all was still as death. It seemed as if the ter- 
 rified company could hear their own hearts beat, and even breath- 
 ing became laborious. 
 
 After some minutes, some of the young men began to be ashamed 
 of having been so easily frightened, and proi)osed going up stairs 
 to see if anything had been jarred down, though the noise was so 
 pecuHar that they had little hope of finding that it had bean pro- 
 duced by any common cause. Some of the bravest led the way, 
 
230 ADVENTUKES WITH GHOSTS. 
 
 and others, taking courage by their example, followed ; while the 
 most timid, fearing to stay down stairs alone, followed their 
 companions from sheer cow^ardice. Every nook w^as examined. 
 Nothing was in motion, and nothing was removed from its 
 place. 
 
 They visited the low bed of little Lily. The child's blue eyes 
 were closed, and they were soon convinced by her loud breathing 
 that her innocent slumbers had not been disturbed by the terrific 
 noise that had so alarmed their guilty consciences. Had they been 
 close observers, and had they not been frightened, they might per- 
 haps have observed that those long lashes trembled a little as the 
 light was held over her eyelids, and that her breathing was a little 
 louder than betokened healthful sleep. But they were not phi- 
 losophers, and they crept softly down stairs, talking about the 
 wrong doing of making so free in a minister's house, and of the 
 fearful presence of spirits ; as if wrong doing were not wrong 
 anywhere, and as if any spiritual presence should be half as much 
 to be feared as the presence of that Spirit who made us, and who 
 is constantly with us, and will call us to an account for all our 
 actions. 
 
 The mirth was over. Some, with cautious steps, sought their 
 own homes. Others stopped with the aflrighted Jeanette, and 
 soon retired to bed, 
 
 "Fearful peeping o'er his shoulder, 
 Each for ghosts but little bolder." 
 
 In the days that remained of the pastor's absence, there were no 
 more merry-makings. Lilian had accomplished her object, and she 
 kept her own secret. No one suspected that a child of seven 
 years had managed to quiet that large company of thoughtless 
 young men and women. After the little girl retired to bed, she 
 could not have slept, if she had wished, for it seemed to her as if 
 the very house would come down over her head, as she lay revolv- 
 ing the means of producing a quiet. Not till she had her plan 
 well laid did she attempt to execute it. Then she rose softly, took 
 her mother's large spinning-wheel from its standard, and, placing it 
 upon its rim, she turned it swiftly round, till, when it had acquired 
 
FILIAL TENDERNESS. 231 
 
 sufiScient velocity, she suddenly withdrew her hand, and it went to 
 the floor with tremendous force. Lily did not, as most children 
 of her age would have done, frightened at her own temerity, as 
 the sound rolled repeatedly through the dim old chamber, rush 
 to bed again ; but she stood silent and still, till the wheel was mo- 
 tionless ; then cautiously taking it up, she tugged it along, placed 
 it upon its standard, put in the pin, held her hand upon it till 
 all jarring had ceased, and then quietly groped her way back to 
 bed. 
 
 She had rightly calculated that some time would elapse before 
 the people below would venture up stairs, and before they came she 
 had composed herself, and lay as if sound asleep. Not until years 
 after did Lilian make known her part in the transaction, when far 
 away from the scene where it occurred, and doubtless the story of 
 the supernatural noise at the parsonage has been whispered many 
 times, as a veritable and indisputable ghost story. 
 
 FILIAL TENDERNESS. 
 
 A YOUNG man, newly admitted to the military school in 
 France, would eat nothing but bread and soup, and drink 
 nothing but water. He^was reproved for his singularity ; but 
 still he would not change. He was finally threatened with being 
 sent home, if he persisted. " You will not, I hope, be displeased 
 with me," said he to the Principal of the institution ; " but I 
 could not bring myself to enjoy what I think a luxury, while I 
 reflect that my dear father and mother are in the utmost ipdi- 
 gence. They could afi'ord themselves and me no bettor food 
 than the coarsest of bread, and of that but very little. Here I 
 have excellent soup, and as much fine wheat bread as I choose. 
 I look upon this to be very good living ; and the recoileoHon of 
 the situation in which I left my parents, would not permit me to 
 indulge myself by eating anything else." 
 
232 
 
 WASHINGTON IN HIS FAMILY. 
 
 iP. 
 
 i / ' I 
 
 WASHINGTON IN Hlfe FAMILY. 
 
 DR. M'WHIRR, who was the teacher of the academy at Alex- 
 andria in Washington's day, and who had under his charge 
 two nephews of the General, gives us, in his autobiography, the 
 following interesting statement : 
 
 " At the dinner-table, Mrs. ^Yashington sat at the head, and 
 Major Washington at the foot. The General sat next Mrs. Wash- 
 ington, on her left. He called upon me to ask a blessing before 
 meat. When the cloth was about to be removed, he returned 
 thanks himself. Mrs. Washington, with a .smile, said, ' My dear, 
 you forgot that you had a clergyman dining with you to-day.' 
 
A MUSICAL OWL. 238 
 
 With equal pleasantness he replied, ' My dear, I wish clergymf^n, 
 and all men, to know that I am not a graceless man.' I was fre- 
 quently at Mount Vernon, and saw him frequently at Alexandria ; 
 nor did I ever see any person, whatever might be his character or 
 standing, who was not sensibly awed by his presence, and by the 
 impressions of his greatness. The vivacity and grace of Mrs. 
 AYashington reHeved visitors of some of that feeling of awe and 
 restraint which possessed them. He was uniformly grave, and 
 smiled but seldom, but always agreeable. His favorite subject of 
 conversation was agriculture, and he scrupulously avoided, in gen- 
 eral society, topics conencted with politics, or the war, or his own 
 personal actions. As all the world knows, he was most regular 
 in his habits. He went into his study, it is said, about four o'clock 
 in the morning. He continued there until breakfast, which he 
 took with his family, and then visited his plantations. He re- 
 turned at noon, and his dinner hour was three o'clock. He was 
 then open to the calls of his friends, and to the society of visitors. 
 No one acquainted with his habits thought of calling upon Gen- 
 eral Washington in the morning. He took the liveliest interest 
 in our academy, and in the cause of education generally, and uni- 
 formly attended our exhibitions." 
 
 A MUSICAL OWL. 
 
 Mr. Jenyns relates a good owl story. He knew a tame owl that 
 was so fond of music that he would enter the drawing-room <jf 
 an evening, and, perched on the shoulder of one of the children, 
 listen with great attention to the tones of the piano-forte, holding 
 his head first on one side, then on the other, after the manner of 
 connoisseurs. One night, suddenly spreading his wings, Jis if un- 
 able to endure his rapture any longer, he alighted on the keys, and, 
 driving away the fingers of the performer with his beak, began to 
 hop about upon the keys himself, apparently in great delight with his 
 own execution. The pianist's name was Keevie ; he was born in 
 the woods of Northumberland, and belonged to a friend of Rev. Mr. 
 Jenyns. 
 
284 
 
 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 
 
 y^Y young readers will open their eyes in am;ize- 
 *)) ment, when they perceive that the position of 
 our editorial table is removed from New York to 
 Florida. But this is an age of table moving, you know ; 
 f^ V" so that it is not so strange, after all, that our table has 
 f^ ^ been jostled out of its place, and pushed off some thou- 
 sand miles. Still, I perceive you are not quite satisfied with this 
 general account of the phenomenon, and I must give you a more 
 particular one. 
 
 On the last day of February, I was attacked, very suddenly, with 
 congestion of the lungs, and was confined to my room, at my resi- 
 dence in Tarry town, a part of the time, perhaps, in a dangerous 
 state, during the entire month of March. My disease — which w^as 
 the result of too intense application to my literary duties, as I had 
 tw^o books in course of preparation besides the Cabinet — through 
 the kind interposition of my heavenly Father, yielded to judicious 
 medical treatment so far that I was able to ride out on the third 
 day of April. By the advice of my physician, I decided on a tem- 
 porary residence in a more southern climate ; and on the fifth of 
 April, with a very small amoun. of strength, I took passage in the 
 steamer Alabama, bound for Savannah, Georgia. I had excellent 
 accommodations on board the steamer, and every attention that an 
 invalid could desire. Besides, I had charming company. I don't 
 know that I ever enjoyed an excursion more than this of three 
 days to Savannah. Among those to whom I owe especial thanks, 
 for their sincere and cordial sympathy, their unwearied and hearty 
 exertions to promote my comfort and enjoyment, no less than for 
 their excellent society, I must be allowed to mention the Hon. 
 
EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 235 
 
 Benjamin F. Butler, of my own city, who, with a part of his 
 family, was on a visit to the Southern country, for the benefit of 
 his health. We have been almost constant companions, from the 
 time w^e left New York until now, and the prospect is, that we shall 
 remain together for some time longer. The Lord reward them for 
 their kindness to the invalid. 
 
 As I write this last word, I find myself smiling a little. I don't 
 know but setting myself up for an invalid now is equivalent to 
 getting sympathy under false pretences ; for my health has vastly 
 improved since I left home. The sea voyage to Savannah proved 
 of great service to me. At first, I was hardly able to get up and 
 down the cabin stairs without assistance. But I gained so rapidly, 
 that my friends hardly knew me from one day to another. 
 
 The voyage was not very eventful. Some of the passengers, 
 who had not ventured before upon the ocean, thought it rather 
 rough a part of the time, and the genius of sea-sickness was as busy 
 as usual ; but he let me off with but a slight brush of his wing, 
 just to let me know that he had not forgotten me since our in- 
 timacy in my voyage home from Europe. 
 
 After we passed Cape Hatteras, the weather was as warm as 
 any one could desire, and our party spent a great portion of the 
 time on the quarter-deck. One morning, the captain called us to 
 tbe side of the ship, to show us how singularly we had captured a 
 shark during the night. One of the floats of the wheel had struck 
 his sharkship, and threw him over to the opposite side of the wheel 
 with such force that it cut him in two, and fastened one part of 
 his body between the timbers in such a way that any one could 
 see it by looking over the side of the ship. 
 
 We arrived at Savannah on the afternoon of Saturday, just as 
 the steamer bound for New York was leaving the wharf. You 
 can hardly imagine what a difference we found between the climate 
 of the latitude of New York and this of Savannah. Vegetation was 
 still enjoying its winter nap, when we left home. There was 
 scarcely any evidence of the advent of spring, save that afforded 
 by the calendar. From winter we found that we had nearly 
 emerged into the climate of our summer. People wore walking 
 the streets in their summer dress. The windows were all open. 
 
236 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 The trees had on their full foliage. The tree called the " pride of 
 India," which is exceedingly abundant in Savannah, was in flower. 
 Roses, in endless variety, and in the greatest profusion, were visible 
 in the door-yards of the citizens. Flora was at the very height of 
 her fete. Green peas, strawberries, new potatoes, radishes, abounded 
 in the market. What a contrast to the stern March weather which 
 we encountered at the North, and from which we had just escaped. 
 
 Savannah is a beautiful city. It is more level than any other 
 extent I have ever visited, and I could not help wishing it were a 
 little more undulating. But the evenness of its surface is perhaps 
 counterbalanced by the multitude of its beautiful public squares, 
 which add incalculably to the beauty of the city. 
 
 I intend to tell you more of Savannah and the surrounding 
 country in Georgia, as well as something of St. Augustine, in 
 Florida, where I now am. It is oppressively warm here, and we 
 intend returning to Savannah after a day or two, where, as the cli- 
 mate seems favorable, I shall probably remain some two weeks 
 longer. At the Pulaski House, in Savannah, I have excellent ac- 
 commodations. I found there, connected with this establishment, 
 my old friend, Mr. Mackenzie, so long one of the proprietors of 
 the Columbia House, in Philadelphia, where I have always found 
 a pleasant home, when visiting that city. 
 
 My dear leader, I was about to say adieu ; but I cannot dismiss 
 you from my editorial table without recording an expression of my 
 gratitude to Almighty God for his great kindness and mercy to 
 me during my illness, and for so far restoring me to health. In- 
 deed, I have reason to be thankful, and trust I am thankful, for all 
 the dealings of Providence with me — for the illness itself, as well 
 as for the many kind circumstances attending it. How plainly 
 ha\ e I been made to see that our heavenly Father " doth not afflict 
 willingly," but only when he deems it necessary for our spiritual 
 well-being. I trust I have learned some practical lessons while ap- 
 parently near the boundaries of the eternal world, which will be of 
 infinite value to me, should my life be spared. Dear reader, this 
 world has an aspect very difterent from its usual one, when viewed 
 from the point at which it has been my privilege to see it, and so 
 does the otho' world, to which we are air hastening. 
 
EDITOEIAL TABLE TALK. 237 
 
 " MARK FORRESTER" AGAIN. 
 
 It seems that the communication in tlie last number of the 
 Cabinet respecting the true ' Mark Forrester,' has raised a httle 
 breeze in Boston. Now I am not going to fight any body's battle 
 in my magazine, nor do I intend that others shall fight their bat- 
 tles on this arena. I cannot justly refuse a place to the statement 
 of the other gentleman claiming this sobriquet, especially as I have 
 been earnestly desired to do so by my friends Messrs. F. <fe. G. C. 
 Rand, the present proprietors of the Boy^s tf GirVs Magazine. 
 Mr. King, the gentleman who wrote the article complained of by 
 our correspondent in the March number, addresses the following 
 note to the publishers, which may be regarded as the statement, in 
 brief, of the other side : 
 
 " To Messrs. F. d G. C. Rand ;— 
 
 " As you purchased Forreste7'''s Boys'' and GirW Magazine and 
 the good will thereof, at a generous price, and with the consent of 
 all the parties having any publishing or editorial right ; and as 
 those parties gave you leave and wished you to use the name 
 ' Mark Forrester,' at discretion and by right, we could hardly ex- 
 pect any person to claim property in that name, or to use it only 
 by your consent. But I see that the question is mooted in Wood- 
 worth's Cabinet^ ' Who is Mark Forrester ?' and somebody, for 
 some purpose, complains of deception in your use of that name in 
 the last January number of your magazine. And now I will state, 
 for the purpose of protecting your interest, and not for my own 
 sake, that I wrote and signed the article in question. If any gen- 
 tleman wishes to deny me this right, obtained by four years' edi- 
 torial control, let him do it over his own signature. But lest I 
 should appear assuming, or to be withholding credit from others 
 to whom it is due, I will state that there were several persons who 
 wrote by the name of Forrester^ and that no one person wrote all 
 which appeared as editorial. I can allow a vast amount of credit 
 to parties who sustained the Magazine, only insisting that they shall 
 leave you in peaceful possession of what they granted cheerfully and 
 for value received. Your friend, 
 
 "Bostou, March 20, 1854. ^- ^- King." 
 
238 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 TO CORRESPONDENTS. 
 
 In the absence of the editor, his brother has sent me a bundle of letters 
 to look over, and such a tall bundle ! " And who is ' me' '(" exclaim the 
 little folks. Why S. N. to be sure. "What is the use of being an assistant 
 editor, if she doesn't assist the editor on a pinch. But dear me ! what 
 a pile of letters ! Arthur, won't you help me to arrange them ; and you, 
 Mary, Caroline, Albert, Henry, Samuel, Jane, Scotchey, and all the rest 
 of you? I wish I had you all around me now, wouldn't we have a nice 
 time ? But I must get to work. Let me see, whose letter is this so 
 nicely written ? Oh ! Edward Higgins'. There is some pleasure in 
 reading such a nice, clear handwriting as that. And here's another pret- 
 tily written letter from Jennie. 
 
 Jennie, dear, (don't be alarmed at my familiarity, I'm not the editor, 
 only S. N.) the Cardinal puzzle is published in the Boy's Book of Sports; 
 but your questions for planting must have a place. 
 
 Roger, I shall save your arithmetical puzzle for Mr. Woodworth to 
 pronounce judgment upon. 
 
 F. T. M. Your enigma must also find a place, not only because it is 
 neatly written and quite correct, but because it carries out Uncle Frank's 
 motto, "Amusement our means, instruction our end." 
 
 J. C. B. If you cannot answer all the enigmas, <fec. do not be afraid to 
 send the solutions to such as you can find out, which remark applies to a 
 great many of our little readers. Send along your names of places en- 
 igmatically expressed : they take the children to their maps. 
 
 Essie, I think your enigmas, Ac. are very pretty ; but if Mr. "Woodworth 
 were here, wouldn't he scold you for writing on both sides of your paper ? 
 
 J. K. L. Your labyrinth shall be taken care of. When I drew mine, I 
 had to be very particular about having it the right size for the Cabinet ; 
 and yours, I fear, is rather small. 
 
 E. A. Stillwell, I laid down my pen to try your " simple melody" on 
 the piano. It is very pretty, and must be taken care of ; but excuse me 
 if I suggest that your C's in the bass ought to be F's. 
 
 L. L. Your very pretty verses on the rose-bud shall be published, if / 
 have any influence in the matter. 
 
 Well done, Katie of Lowell ! all the puzzles answered, and plenty of 
 new ones propounded. I do not know the answer to the enigma you 
 inquire about. Mr. W. never shows me the solutions, so I have to find 
 them out as well as you. 
 
 Here is another nice, clear letter, written on one side of the paper only — 
 answers all distinct. Whose is it? Ah! it is Alvaro F. Gibbens'. No 
 danger here of the anagrams getting mixed up with the geographical 
 answers. 
 
 Mary E. M'Cleary. Your enigma is rather too easy. But don't be dis- 
 
EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 239 
 
 couraged, dear ; try again, and take something historical for yonr text, 
 80 that when the children have puzzled over it and found it out, they 
 may hare gleaned some instruction from it. 
 
 More nice, clear writing. L. and C. Mudge. They are never behind 
 hand with their answers. 
 
 Black River Boy. We are glad to hear from you at last. You cannot 
 learn to swim, you know, without going into the water. I have known 
 of some people who went through the motions on the dining-room table, 
 but they did not make a great deal of head-way ! 
 
 Uncle John, allow me, in the absence of the editor, to shake hands with 
 you. I hope there is room in the Cabinet for your letter. 
 
 Charles Bennett. I think you will be suited this month with the table 
 talk, if all you want is quantity without regard to quality. 
 
 Mary M'Cormick. Your nice little letter shall be properly attended to. 
 
 Albert L. Edwards, the remarks to Black River Boy will apply to you. 
 I thank you, in the editor's name, for your invitation. 
 
 Samuel B. and John E. Wheelock. I think your questions for planting 
 are very good. 
 
 W. N. D. The anagrams you sent are not original. 
 
 A. J. Davis. Your enigmatical names must find a place in the Cabinet, 
 but I hope that none of my young friends will feel disappointed if their 
 offerings are crowded out this month for want of room. 
 
 Jane 0. De Forrest. The first three of your anagrams will do very well, 
 but the fourth is not quite the thing. 
 
 Anna Quackenbush ' n€ed not apologize for the brevity of her epistle 
 We rather like it. " Brevity is the soul of wit." 
 
 ENIGMA NO. V. 
 
 I am composed of 31 lettei's. 
 
 My 25, 23, 24, 2, is a plant much cultivated in Europe. 
 My 18, 21, 31, 26, 11, 17, 9, is the name of a quality. 
 My 13, 16, 20, 5, 4, is a useful animal. 
 My 15, 16, 27, 18, is a period of time. 
 My 8, 7, 15, 16, 28, 18, 9, is a man's name. 
 My 28, 29, 1, is a metal. 
 My 14, 6, 12, 13, 19, 20, is a woman's name. 
 My 22, 10, 1, is something belonging to a fish. 
 
 My 3, 19, 1, 6, 2, 20, was used by priests generally in former times, and 
 by some priests at present. 
 
 My whole is a common proverb. w. u. h. 
 
 ENIGMA NO. VI. 
 
 I am composed of 29 letters. 
 
 My 12, 1, 17, 17, 15, 21, 27, is an ancient historian. 
 
240 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 My 8, 27, 11, 1, 2, 23, 21, 13, is what never ends. 
 
 My 5, 8, 7, 10, 23, 2, 6, is a man, great man, and great woman. 
 
 My 17, 15, 27, 5, 28, 19, was an ancient reformer. 
 
 My 7, 1, 13, is a portion of light. 
 
 My 29, 1, 23, 26, 13, 3, 1, 13, is what every lady hates. 
 
 My 24, 13, 16, 22, 15, 21, is an ancient king. 
 
 My 28, 20, 25, 26, is a town bearing a name connected with sacred his- 
 tory. 
 
 My 22, 18, 24, 8, is a great supporter. 
 
 My 27, 5, 11, 24, 29, 28, 21, 8, 2, 27, is what all have. 
 
 My 1, 15, 16, 14, 19, 1, is a village in Erie County. 
 
 My 4, 23, 27, 22, is a preposition. 
 
 My 2, 23, 17, 11, is a river that overflows its banks and fertilizes the 
 Boil. 
 
 My 1, 6, 2, 8, 1, 12, is a Latin poem. 
 
 My 4, 23, 26, 25, has ruined many. 
 
 My whole is a question of an ancient philosopher to the man referred 
 to in enigma No. 1. 
 
 CHARADE NO. VI. 
 
 In the door are sunbeams streaming, 
 Out are Susie's black eyes beaming. 
 "Oh! m J first ! dear mother, see 
 Where it comes for you and me, 
 Comes to bear us to the shore 
 Where the wild waves flash and roar." 
 
 " Where is Susie now ?" they call, 
 Mother, driver wait, and all. 
 From the mirror Susie vain 
 Echoes back their shouts again. 
 •' For my second please to wait : — 
 Kow my second's at the gate." 
 
 Here the white-sailed vessels be 
 Glancing, bird-like o'er the sea. 
 Mark the fishers on the beach. 
 Susie darling, they may teach 
 Thee to shun the flatterer's word; 
 Silly fishes seek my third. 
 
 Home again ! dear sheltering home ! 
 Always dearest when we roam. 
 
EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 241 
 
 Something on the table lies ; — 
 
 Susie's hands have chased her eyes — 
 
 To a corner she has stole, 
 
 There she feasts iipon my vjhole. l. l. 
 
 BUDGET OF AXAGRAMS, NO. IV. 
 
 1. Red nag. 5. Stray, moon! 
 
 2. He gets our sins. 6. A sun's hkight. 
 
 3. The war. Y. Hot drug. 
 
 4. Go, lost rat! 8. Care pent me in. a. s. c. 
 
 NAMES OF PLACES IX MAINE, ENIGMATICALLY EXPRESSED. 
 
 1. A liquid, and a shallow part of a stream. 
 
 2. A color, and a collection of houses. 
 
 3. A fruit and a piece of land. 
 
 4. An article, and a descendant. 
 6. A name, and a place of safety. 
 
 6. A girl's name, and a collection of houses. 
 
 SETH i. AXI-ELL, JE. 
 CUTTINGS FOR PLANTING. 
 
 1. Plant the ceiling, what will come up ? 
 
 2. Plant Cupid with his throat cut, what will grow ? 
 
 3. Plant a clock, what will come up ? • 
 
 SAMUEL B. AND JOHN E. WHEELOCK. 
 
 PUZZLE. 
 
 A pastry-compound fate met a repair first person am unable, and asked 
 sacred song if he forest go cc, he rep. told an untruth that he would ra- 
 ther stamp on drain (N^) by the charity of his benevolent perused. 
 
 What person ever lived in the world, the number of whose years was 
 equal to the number of days now required to constitute a year i 
 
 JOHN R. 
 
 ANSWER TO THE CUTTINGS FOR PLANTING. 
 
 1. Crown Imperial. 2. Mourning Widow. ',\. Bouncing Bbt. 
 Answered by Roger, Samuel B. and John E. Whcelock, George Q. 
 and Clara C. Day, C. H. Little, and W. A. Lewis. 
 
 VOL. V. 1 I MV 
 
242 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 ANSWER TO CHARADE NO. V. 
 
 One bird at night 'neath the moon's pale light 
 
 And stars that gem the sky, 
 When all is still, mournful yet shrill, 
 
 Rings forth its note on high. 
 
 This bird alone, with its pensive moan, 
 
 Can never charm my ear. 
 In plaintive trill of the whip-poor-will, 
 
 There is naught the heart to cheer. 
 
 Also answered by Jennie, Roger, Newell and Richard Ackerman, J. C. 
 B. Charles F. Sweetser, Katie, Franklin H. Mason, Alvaro F. Gibbens, 
 Mary E. M'Cleary, ^sop of Seneca Falls, James L. Orr, Arabella J. 
 Tuttle, L. and C. Mudge, Black River Boy, Charles Bennett, Albert L. 
 Edwards, Samuel B. and John E. Wheelock, Edward R. Earl, Edward W. 
 Stuart, G. F. and M. H. Laird, Moses P. Snell, G. H. Little, George Q. 
 and Clara C. Day, W. N. D., Bessie, Seth J. Axtell, jr. A. J. Wheeler, J. A. 
 Davis, Edward Lindsey, Jane 0. De Forrest, Anna Quackenbush, Gottleib 
 and Ivan, G. K. Brady, J. G. Birney, jr., M. C. Russell and Cousin Libby. 
 
 ANSWER TO CHARADE NO. VI. 
 
 The lark's glad voice bids all rejoice 
 
 In the light of returning day ; 
 With hound and horn, the huntsman at morn 
 
 Spurs his gallant steed away. 
 
 The morning dew from the larkspur blue 
 
 He showers with hasty tread. 
 Yet the slender stem bereft of its gem 
 
 Still modestly lifts its head. 
 
 It gently gleams in the sunny beams 
 
 Of morning's freshest ray, 
 While with reckless speed the bonnie steed 
 
 With his rider dashes away. 
 
 Bnt eyes far more blue than the flower's soft hue 
 
 That danced in morn's mellow light. 
 With welcome sweet the huntsman will greet 
 
 As he homeward turns at night. Essnc 
 
 Also answered by Jennie, Roger, Katie, Alvaro F. Gibbens, Albert L. 
 Edwards, Edward R. Earl, Edward W. Stuart, C. R Little, George Q. 
 and Clara C. Day, A. J. Wheeler, J. A. Davis, Edward Lindsley, Jane O. 
 De Forrest, Anna Quackenbush, Gottleib and Ivan, J. G. Birney, jr. 
 
EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 243 
 
 ANSWER TO BUDGET OF ANAGRAMS, NO. Ill, 
 
 1. ApPEETAm. 4. Pleasure. 
 
 2. Reinstate. 5. Statioxaby. 
 
 3. PoTATOE. 6. Oversleep. 
 Answered by Katie, Alvaro F. Gibbens, Henry B. Foster, Edward R. 
 
 Earl, Edward W. Stuart, W. N. D., Mattie C. Russell and Cousin Libby. 
 
 ANSWER TO ENIGMA NO. IV. 
 
 The Wind. 
 Answered by Katie, ^Esop, L. and C. Mudge, Edward W. Stuart, Moses 
 P. Snell, George Q. and Clara C. Day, C. H. Little, W. X. D., A. J. Davis. 
 
 answer to the enigma on ancient geography and history. 
 
 Stbabo, Ptolemy, and Puny. 
 Answered by Kate, L. and C. Mudge, and Edward "W. Stuart. 
 
 ANSWER TO ANAGRAMS OF SCRIPTURE PROPER NAMES, NO. III. 
 
 L Stephen. 2. Thomas. 3. Abagtha. 4. Matthew. 
 Answered by Jennie, Xewell and Richard Ackerman, Charles F. Sweet- 
 eer, Katie, Alvaro F. Gibbens, L. and C. Mudge, Henry B. Foster, Ed- 
 ward R. Earl, Edward W. Stuart, Moses P. Snell, C. H. Little, George 
 Q. and Clara C. Day, W. K D., J. A. R., A. J. Davis, Jane 0. De Forrest, 
 G. K. Brady, Anna Quackenbush. 
 
 ANSWERS TO NAMES OF PLACES IN INDIANA. 
 
 1. Greenfield. 4. Williamsport. 
 
 2. Huntington. 5. Bedford. 
 
 3. Brownstown or Dansville. 6. Newcastle. 
 Answered by Edwin Higgins, Jennie, Roger, Xewell and Richard Ac- 
 kerman, J. C. B., Charles F. Sweetser, Katie, Franklin F. Mason, Alvaro 
 F. Gibbens, Arabella J. Tnttle, L. and C. Mudge, Black River Boy, Mary 
 M'Cormick, Mary H. Wickes, Henry B. Foster, Edward R. Earl, Edward 
 W. Stuart, G. F. and M. H. Laird, Moses P. Snell, George Q. and Clara 
 C. Day, W. X. D., Bessie, J. A R., Seth J. Axtell, jr. C. A. Wheeler, A. 
 J. Davis, Edward Linsley, Jane 0. De Forrest, George K. Brady, Anna 
 Quackenbush, Gottleib and Ivan, William C. Casey, George Lester. 
 
 answers to counties in michigan. 
 
 1. Hillsdale. 3. Crawford. 
 
 2. Oceana. 4. Sctioolcrapt. 
 
 5. Gladwin. 
 Answered by Edward Higgins, Jennie, Roger, Newell and Richard Ac- 
 
244 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 kerman, Katie, Franklin H. Mason, Alvaro F. Gibbens, L. and C. Mndge, 
 Black River Boy, Charles Bennett, Charles T. Dering, jr., Albert L. Ed- 
 wards, Henry B. Foster, Edward R, Earl, Edward W. Stuart, Moses P. 
 Snell, George Q. and Clara C. Day, TV. K D., Bessie, J. A. R., Seth J. Ax- 
 tell, jr., Edward Lindsley, Jane 0. De Forrest, George K. Brady. 
 
 BUSINESS NOTICE. 
 
 The publisher earnestly requests all his patrons who are in arrears 
 for the Cabinet, not to omit the opportunities (so frequent at this season 
 of the year) of sending by private hands to the publication office in Xew 
 York the amount of their dues. 
 
 WALTER COLTON S WORKS. 
 
 1. Deck and Port; or, Incidents of a Cruise in the United States Frigate 
 Congress, to California. 
 
 2. Land and Lee in the Bosphorus and uSgean ; or, Vietrs of Constanti- 
 nople and Athens. 
 
 3. Ship and Shore, in Madeira, Lisbon, and the Mediterranean. 
 
 4. Sea and Sailor ; with Notes on France and Italy ^ and oih^r Literary 
 Remains. 
 
 Mr. Colton, for many j'cars a chaplain in tlie navy, was one of the most 
 racy and entertaining of all our American writers, in the matter of trav- 
 eling sketches. I never could take up one of his volumes, and open it 
 at random, without finding it difficult to lay it down again. His pictures 
 of men and things are charming, He never wrote merely for the sake 
 of writing ; but there is soul in all his sketches, and everybody who lis- 
 tens to him feels that he chats because he has something to say. There 
 is not a little pleasantry in all hie books — more than some people would 
 approve — but he never uses his fund of wit and humor to wound any 
 one's sensibilities, nor does he employ a joke at the expense of virtue. 
 Indeed there is an undercurrent of healthful morality and true religion 
 in all his works. A. S. Barnes & Co. of this city, are Mr. Colton's pub- 
 lishers. 
 
 Mr. Genin's establishments on Broadway continue to be the popular 
 resort of strangers, as well as our own citizens, who are in want of hatSj 
 caps, umbrellas, canes, (fee. His lower store is under the Museum, 214 
 Broadway ; his upper one, under the St, Nicholas Hotel, 513 Broadway. 
 At the latter place, children can be fitted to almost any aaticle of dress. 
 Besides superintending the sweeping of the Russ pavemeniin Broadway 
 daily — a task equal, one would think, to that of cleaning the Augean 
 stable — Mr. Genin, by his studious efforts to please, is sweeping a vast 
 amount of custom into those two Broadway stores. * 
 
 * i 
 
THE COW AND THE MOUSE. 
 
THE PHILOSOPHICAL COW. 247 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHICAL COW. 
 
 VENERABLE COW, who had just returned from a rich 
 pasture, and was about entering the barn-yard for 
 the night, encountered a mouse perclied upon an 
 inverted milk-pail. The cow was well-bred, and ex- 
 changed the ordinary courtesies with her humble little 
 ^^ neighbor, although she was reputed to be somewhat aris- 
 tocratic in her feelings and prejudices. The mouse took advantage 
 of this civility — illustrating, perhaps, the truth of that old saw, that 
 if you give some folks an inch, they will take an ell — and made 
 some remarks about the weather, to which, as a matter of course, 
 the cow civilly responded. The conversation, by a little adroitness 
 on the part of iS^ibble, easily glided to quite another topic, that of 
 " hard times," upon which he became astonishingly eloquent. He 
 spoke of his own sufferings and those of his family ; told how ho 
 had been reduced in his circumstances, so that poverty stared him 
 in the face ; how his children had been torn from his embrace by 
 the ruthless paws of the family cat ; how his wife — and here his 
 little black eyes were moistened with the dew of grief— had been 
 cruelly murdered for no other fault than tasting a mammoth 
 cheese ; and how his woes were more than any mortal mouse could 
 bear. 
 
 The philosophical old matron, chewing all the while the cud of 
 contentment and happiness, heard this tale of sorrow to the end ; 
 and then, as she turned to the trough well supplied with meal for 
 her supper, she said, in the blandest possible tones, " My dear little 
 friend, we are born to trouble in this world. It is the lot of all. 
 You have your peculiar troubles— I have mine. It is a great vir- 
 tue to bear our sorrows with patience and resignation. I hope you 
 
248 A WONDERFUL CLOCK. 
 
 will learn to practice this virtue. There is nothing like it, as I 
 have learned from my own experience." And so she bade her 
 suffering neighbor " good evening," and addressed herself to her 
 sumptuous supper. 
 
 " Ah," said the poor little mouse, as he tearfully wended his way 
 homewaid, " now I see how wide a difference it makes, in survey- 
 ing the ills of life, at what point one stands to look at them." — 
 Theodore Thinker. 
 
 A WONDEEFUL CLOCK. 
 
 TOWARD the end of the sixteenth century, Jaquet Droz, a Swiss 
 clockmaker, carried to Ferdinand the Catholic, King of Spain, 
 a clock, which was the w^onder of all Europe. The king paid the 
 large sum of five hundred louis (or about two thousand two hun- 
 dred dollars) for it, and when it arrived, gathered his most illus- 
 trious noblemen to look at its marvelous works. The clock repre- 
 sented a landscape, and when it struck the hour, a shepherd issued 
 from behind some rock, and played six different tune-s upon his 
 flute, while his dog very naturally fawned upon him. To show 
 the king that the dog was faithful as well as affectionate, Droz 
 told him to touch the fruit in a basket by the side of the shep- 
 herd. The king laid hold of an apple, and the dog at once sprang 
 at his hand, barking so naturally, that a spaniel in the room re- 
 plied with great ferocity, and showed signs of fight. At this all 
 the court left, crying out " Sorcery," and there was only left the 
 king and the Minister of the Navy. The king asked the shepherd 
 what time it was. The clockmaker told him that he did not un- 
 derstand Spanish, but if he would ask him in French, he would 
 reply. The king then put his question in French, when the shep- 
 herd instantly replied. This was too much for the Minister of 
 the Navy, and he instantly ran away. Ths poor clockmaker was 
 in danger of being burnt for a sorcerer, but he explained the won- 
 der to the Grand Inquisitor, who was convinced that, instead of 
 being the work of evil spirits, it was only the result of great in- 
 genuity. 
 
FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF FLORIDA. 
 
 2-i9 
 
 FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF FLORIDA. 
 
 )w would my readers like to hear a little about an 
 excursion I have recently made to Florida ? Pre- 
 j^ suming they are all well inclined to such a talk, I 
 
 , Kjj will open the Floridan budget. One day, during my stay 
 j^jY* at Savannah, some friends who had been my constant com- 
 »> panions from the time I left Xew York, proposed an ex- 
 cursion to St. Augustine. I immediately accepted the invitation, 
 and in an hour or two we were on board the favorite steamer St. 
 John's, Capt. Freeborn, as good-natured and courteous a man, I ven- 
 ture to say, as ever took charge of a steamer on these waters. 
 This was on the 13th day of April. The day was very fine, and 
 all the passengers, of whom there was a large number, seemed in 
 excellent spirits. The St. John's is admirably adapted for such an 
 excursion. The state-rooms are on deck, opening both outside and 
 into a saloon, giving abundant opportunity for a good supply of 
 fresh air. You wnll wonder, perhaps, why the boat is fitted up in 
 this manner, instead of being constructed with a view to boisterous 
 sea service. I will tell you how this is. We take the '' inside 
 passage" to Florida. We scarcely go outside, upon the open ocean, 
 at all. That, too, puzzles you, as you look upon your map and 
 notice the relative position of Savannah, and any portion of the 
 State of Florida. Let me, then, explain a little more particularly. 
 All alons: the coast, from Savannah, and even farther north, to the 
 southern extremity of the Cape of Florida, there is a continued suc- 
 cession of inlets, or arms of the sea, separated from the ocean only 
 by a narrow strip of land, forming islands of greater or less extent. 
 Soon afier v/e pass down through one of the mouths of the Savan- 
 nah river, we enter one of these inlets — the common name for them 
 here is creeks — and we continue in them, almost entirely, until we 
 
 VOL. V. 11* .TE. 
 
250 FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF FLORIDA. 
 
 reach the St. John's river, in Florida. The distance to St. Augus- 
 tine, from Savannah, by the outside passage, is only some one hun- 
 dred and sixty miles, while by the inside passage, we make so 
 many crooks and turns, it requires a voyage of almost four hundred 
 miles to that point on the St. John's river nearest St. Augustine, 
 about eighteen miles distant. 
 
 As we passed down the Savannah river, and among the islets be- 
 tween the creeks and the sea, we saw numerous plantations of rice. 
 This grain requires a very moist soil, and is always cultivated on 
 low lands. The usual plan is to raise embankments on the margin 
 of the water, so that, at high tide, the rice field is lower than the 
 surface of the water. This is done, in order to enable the planter 
 to flow his field, by opening a sluice in the embankment, which he 
 does several times a year, at high tide. We noticed some fields 
 flowed in this manner. They were entirely under water, and at a 
 little distance, they resembled small ponds. Tliere is an immense 
 amount of rice raisetl on the coast o^ Georgia and Florida, and on 
 the banks of the numerous" s.trearns and inlets, though the great 
 staple of tiie country, as you very well know, is cotton. Thousands 
 of acres are sometimes devoted to cotton by a single planter. Cot- 
 ton was just sprin<;-ing np at the time we visited Florida. 
 
 Among the birds which abound here, and which, I think, would 
 amuse you not a little, is the pelican. It is mostly seen swimming 
 on the water, with its long and rather clumsy bill stretching up 
 high in the air. This is one of the largest of the southern birds. 
 It feeds on fish principally, and its bill is well contrived for seizing 
 its prey. If it happens to come across a very good fishing ground, 
 it is in the habit of catching fish enough at one time, to last perhaps 
 the whole day. The plan it adopts for disposing of the food not 
 wanted for immediate use, is curious enough. It is provided with 
 a large bag, or pouch, formed by an expansion of the throat. The 
 fish are deposited in this pouch, when the bird is not hungry, and 
 eaten as occasion requires. There is not much beauty about the 
 pelican ; but those we encountered amused us exceedingly. They 
 would sometimes allow the steamer to approach within a few yards 
 of them, before they took wing, and we could distinctly see their 
 process of catching fish. 
 
FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF FLORIDA. 251 
 
 The St. John's river is a beautiful stream. I could chat half an 
 hour in its praise. The water is clear and transparent, and the 
 banks, though low, are crowned with noble pines and other forest 
 trees. We passed within sight of a large Indian mound, in which, 
 as Capt. Freeborn informed me, human bones and implements of 
 Indian warfare had been found. 
 
 The first alligator I saw was on the banks of this river. There 
 are plenty, I was told, in the Savannah river ; but it must have 
 been rather too early in the season for them there, I apprehend, as 
 
 r ;>>/// .S;: "^-r 
 
 THE ALLIGATOR. 
 
 I vainly strained my eyes all the way down to the ocean, to get a 
 peep at one. Several of these ill-looking monsters were seen from 
 the steamer, as we went up the St. John's river. We were within 
 a rod or two of one, said by those who are familiar with these ani- 
 mals, to have been seven or eight feet in length. The monster, 
 when we first discovered him, was lying lazily on the bank, with his 
 ponderous jaws wide open, waiting, I suppose, for any customer 
 who might come along. As we passed opposite to him, he leisurely 
 dropped into the water, remaining stationary with just the tip of 
 his nose above the surface. An alligator might very e.-isiiy be mis- 
 taken for a log of wood, by one unaccustomed to such animals. 
 Some thrilling stories were told me of the feats of the alligator 
 family in this part of the country. It seems that they are in tiie 
 habit of taking their station opposite a plantation, where they will 
 
252 FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF FLORIDA. 
 
 lie motionless for hours, watching the appearance of fowls, hogs, 
 and other animals from the plantation. Ducks and geese are sure 
 to fall a prey to the alligators, whenever they venture upon these 
 waters, and they will not unfrequently seize upon hens. The alli- 
 gator makes short work with the hog, when he comes into his do- 
 minions. Piggy often takes it into his head that he will go down 
 to the shore, and feast on clams and muscles. He goes. Mistaking 
 the alligator for an old log, he perhaps approaches within a few 
 feet of him. The alligator, who is wide awake, as soon as he hears 
 piggy's grunt, hits him a terrible blow with his tail, which at once 
 stuns his victim, and sends him into the water. The alligator fol- 
 lows — and you can imagine the rest. 
 
 A gentleman told me he had seen an alligator catch a full-grown 
 dog, and dine upon him. The dog was walking along in the sedge 
 in search of game, when he received the fatal blow from the tail of 
 the alligator, which knocked the breath out of his body and his 
 body into the creek at the same time. 
 
 Alligators very seldom attack a full-grown white person, though 
 it is dangerous for children to venture into the water where they 
 are. For some reason, however, they seem to be less afraid of ne- 
 groes. A large alligator, especially if he has been fasting for 
 some time, does not hesitate to attack a negro in the water. A 
 Georgian told me, the other day, that in the place where he lives 
 a negro attempted to swim across a small' stream after nightfall, 
 when he was seized and killed by a huge alliga|^. before he reach- 
 ed the opposite bank. '5^^ifc 
 
 It was near the close of the second day after leSwf Savannah, 
 when we reached Picolata. Here we left the steamer, and procured 
 a carriage for St. Augustine, which is some eighteen miles distant. 
 The boat proceeded on to Palatka, and up the Black Creek, and re- 
 turning, went down to the mouth of the St. John's river, and 
 thence, outside, to St. Augustine. We, however, preferred a shorter 
 route. The road we traveled was constructed by government, for 
 military purposes. It passes through a perfect wilderness, only two 
 or three houses — and those of logs — being visible on the whole 
 route. Thousands of acres are covered with pines and live oaks, of 
 gigantic growth ; but they are so far from any facilities for trans- 
 
FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF FLORIDA. 
 
 253 
 
 portation by water, that they are practically of no value. The 
 palmetto — the little palm of which fans are made — abounds nere, 
 and grows very luxuriantly. It is a beautiful tree, and this, with 
 another species of palm, called by the not very poetical name of the 
 cahhage tree^ gives quite a picturesque and tropical appearance to a 
 Floridan forest. The celebrated magnolia grandifiora was visible, 
 too, occasionally. This tree, the piide of the southern forests, was 
 in full bloom at the time, and the air in the vicinity of one of these 
 trees, was full of their sweet odor. They are perfectly white, and 
 as large, when fully expanded, as a tea-saucer. Were I a Southerner, 
 I know I should feel proud of the magnolia. It is one of the no- 
 ble^ tiowers that ever blessed this planet with its beauty and its 
 fraofrance. 
 
 THE MOCKING BIRD. 
 
 The mocking bird is very abundant in Florida. lie serenade«i 
 us, with his inimitable music, long alYer the sun had disappeared. 
 I confess to having fiillen desperately in love with tliis southern 
 minstrel. I could never admire his music much, wiion I heard him 
 through the bars of his cage ; for I am so violentiv opposed to tlio 
 
254 FIEST IMPKESSIONS OF FLORIDA. 
 
 imprisonment of birds, that I usually feel almost as much pain as 
 pleasure, when they are thus confined. But the warbling of this 
 
 THE MOCKING BIRD 8 NB8T. 
 
 songster, from the boughs of the pines and oaks of liis native for- 
 ests in Georgia and Florida, is perfectly charming to me. I could 
 sit and listen to it for an hour at a time. We persuaded our diiver, 
 on the way to St. Augustine, to stop some minutes, in order to hear 
 this music. The nest of the mocking bird is a curious structure. 
 I found one while walking through a dense thicket in Florida. It 
 is made principally of little twigs, ingeniously woven together, and 
 jmed with hair and other soft substances. The female lays four 
 eggs, and while she is sitting upon them, the devoted husband 
 sings to her all day long. I used to think the mocking bird was 
 merely an imitator. But he is something more than that. He 
 not only adroitly groups together the airs of other birds, but he 
 performs a hnW'mnt fantasia. His variations often form the sweetest 
 part of his performance, and he seems to have a pleasure in lead- 
 
FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF FLORIDA. 255 
 
 ing other birds astray. He is said at one time to allure the smaller 
 birds with the call of their mates, and, when they come, to terrify 
 them with the scream of an eagle. There is scarcely a bird of the 
 forest that is not, at times, deceived by his call. 
 
 Although we did not arrive at St. Augustine until past twelve 
 o'clock at night, the weather was so w^arm and the moon shone so 
 brightly, that our ride was by no means unpleasant. Our driver 
 was a native Floridan, and entertained us not a little by stories 
 about the Seminole war and other matters. It seems that this part 
 of Florida was a favorite hunting-ground of the Indians ; and here, 
 during that unfortunate war, many bloody engagements took place. 
 The driver was a capital story-teller ; but it must be confessed that 
 as the night advanced, his auditors grew sleepy, and at length, 
 from nodding complacently to his narrations, we all got to nodding 
 for a very different motive. And so, tired and sleepy to the last 
 degree, we entered the old town of St. Augustine, and were driven 
 to the Planters' Hotel, which, however, we did not occupy but one 
 night, as our rooms w^ere little jitter than first-class stables, but 
 early the next morning, removed our quarters to the Magnolia 
 House, where we were entertained much more to our mind. 
 
 St. Augustine would strike you, the moment you placed your 
 eyes upon it, as an exceedingly droll old town. And so it is, the 
 drollest in our widely-extended republic. It was built, for the most 
 part, when Florida was owned by the Spaniards, and many of the 
 edifices date as far back as the first settlement of the town. Nearly 
 all the buildings have a peculiarly foreign and antique air. They 
 almost seem like petrifactions. Many of them are going to de- 
 cay. Few new ones have been erected since our government gain- 
 ed possession of the country, and few, I apprehend, are likely soon 
 to be erected. It derives its great notoriety from its atiording a 
 salubrious and healthful locality for invalids. For several m<Miths 
 in the year, the town teems with persons who are out of health, 
 and their families; so that the citizens may be said to live on iu- 
 vahds. 
 
 The old Spanish fort is quite a curiosity. It is built, for th»> most 
 part, of a peculiar stone from the contiguous island of St. Anast;usia, 
 called shell stone. In its day, this must have been regarded as a 
 
256 FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF FLORIDA. 
 
 model fortification, and its general plan has been pronounced fault- 
 less by naval engineers of the present day. To our government, 
 however, I imagine it is only valuable as a curiosity. I cannot 
 think it possible that any enemy on the face of the globe could be 
 so foolish as to make a landing on this coast. If one ever should 
 do so, and should succeed in taking St. Augustine, with its old for- 
 tress, it would be a puzzling question, it seems to me, what were 
 to be done next. The gentleman who attended us through the 
 fort, pointed out a room where it is thought the inquisition used to 
 have its sittings. I am pretty credulous, as a general thing ; but, 
 in this instance, I could not quite bring ray faith up to the sticking 
 point. However, we were shown an apartment afterwards, which 
 certainly furnished some evidence of the existence here of this in- 
 stitution. It was a room with most extravagantly thick walls, to 
 which, as we were informed, no access was discovered, until a long 
 time after it passed into our hands. Then, by mere accident, some 
 signs were noticed that there had formerly been a door in this part 
 of the wall. It was completely^ealed up, however, at the time, 
 with large boulders of shell stone and mortar. An excavation was 
 made, and this dark dungeon was discovered. The bones of a hu- 
 man body, which were found there, gave some color to the notion 
 that it was a genuine dungeon of the Spanish inquisition. I leave 
 the question, nevertheless, unsettled, in the hands of the antiquaries, 
 hoping they will have a good time investigating it. 
 
 The weather in St. Augustine, at the time of my visit, was as 
 warm as we usually have it at the beginning of July. The mer- 
 cury, at noon, stood at 85 degrees in the shade, the day after our 
 arrival, and overmuch exercise in the sun was by no means com- 
 fortable. The season for strawberries was just over. Blackberries, 
 and of the very finest quality, were plenty. Green peas were 
 waning. Other vegetables, which we have in New York about the 
 first of July, as new potatoes, turnips, parsnips, cabbages, and the 
 like, were abundant enough. This .part of Florida was formerly 
 celebrated for its fine oranges. But a severe and protracted sea- 
 son of cold weather, which occurred here some years ago, destroyed 
 most of the orange trees, and greatly injured the rest. At present, 
 but few oranges are raised. The fig, pomegranate, date, and na- 
 
FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF FLORIDA. 
 
 257 
 
 tive or sour orange, flourish in the town and its vicinity ; and a 
 great variety of flowers, which, at the North, are cultivated only 
 in green-houses, here flourish in the open air. 
 
 The century plant, or x^raerican aloe, although not iiuJiiren mis 
 in this part of Florida, flourishes well 
 here. Although, in the latitude of the 
 State of New York, it requires a great 
 many years to produce flowers, in St. 
 Augustine comparatively a short time 
 suflSces. In the West India Islands, 
 where it is perfectly at home, I think 
 the plant will blossom when it is seven 
 or eight years old. In Florida, nearly 
 twice that time is necessary. The 
 plant, however, grows luxuriantly in 
 the open air, summer and winter, and 
 requires but very little care. I saw 
 one of the plants, just on the eve of 
 flowering. It sends up no flower stalk, 
 until the year it is to bloom, producing 
 nothing but leaves, which sometimes, 
 as in the case of the plant about to 
 flower in St. Augustine, attain an en- 
 ormous size. But when the flower 
 staik appears, it shoots up with almost 
 incredible rapidity. x\ll the nutriment 
 in the leav^es goes to this stalk ; the 
 leaves wither ; and in two months the' 
 stalk grows to the height of fifteen 
 feet. The aloe bears a multitude of 
 flowers, in shape not unlike the lily, 
 and of a greenish yellow color. The engraving will give you an 
 accurate idea of the shape of the flower. 
 
 St. Augustine, like many other places in Florida, abounds in fine 
 fish. A great variety, and in great numbers, are caught in the 
 river on which the town stands. This circumstance would bo a 
 high recommendation, in my mind, to the place, were I to reside 
 
 FLOTVER OF THE ALOE. 
 
258 ANECDOTE OF WESLEY. 
 
 here. I am exceedingly fond of fish. Were I a Roman Catholic, 
 I am not sure that I would grumble, provided they allowed me 
 plenty of good fish, if there were one uninterrupted fast, lasting from 
 January to December. 
 
 ANECDOTE OF "WESLEY. 
 
 WHILE traveling in Georgia, I picked up the following anec- 
 dote of John Wesley and Gen. Oglethorpe. It seems that 
 these two gentlemen were fellow-passengers from Europe. In the 
 course of this voyage, Mr. Wesley heard Gen. Oglethorpe making 
 a great noise in the cabin, upon which he stepped in to know the 
 cause. The General immediately addressed him, saying : 
 
 " Mr. Wesley, you must excuse me. I have met with a provo- 
 cation too great for man to bear. You know the only wine I 
 drink is Cyprus, as it agrees with me best of any ; I therefore 
 provided myself with several dozens of it, and this villain (his ser- 
 vant, who was present, almost dead with fear) has drank up the 
 whole of it. But I will be revenged on him. I have ordered 
 him to be tied hand and foot, and to be carried to the man-of- 
 war which sails with us. The rascal should have taken care how 
 he used me so, for I never forgive." 
 
 " Then, sir," said Mr. Wesley, looking calmly at him, " I hope 
 you never sin." 
 
 The General, confounded at the reproof, threw his keys to the 
 servant, and bade him do better in future. 
 
 What a severe reproof was that. Would it not be well for 
 every one, while refusing to forgive a person who has injured 
 him, to bear in mind that he himself has no promise of being for- 
 given by his heavenly Father, until he cherishes a forgiving spirit 
 towards every one ! How can an unforgiving man utter this 
 petition in the Lord's Prayer : " Forgive us our trespasses, as we 
 foigive those who trespass against us ?" 
 
THE TWO PICTURES. 
 
 259 
 
 THE TWO PICTURES. 
 
 don't know that I ever pitied a poor urcliin in niv 
 life more sincerely than I used sometimes to pity mv 
 little schoolmate, Timothy Turnover. When I was a 
 boy, there was more whipping done in schools than 
 •^ at present. Our schoolmasters used to go through the cud- 
 '^ ( geling exercise almost as a matter of course, pretty nearly 
 
 ^' every day. They seemed to consider themselves possessed 
 of a gift in this department, which it were a pity not to exercise. 
 I did now and then think, in my foolish little heart, that they flog- 
 ged us ever and anon, just to keep their art in practice. As for 
 me, either because I was an especially good boy, or was sly enough 
 to keep from being often detected in mischief, or for some other 
 reason, I seldom felt the rod on my own back. But dear me ! it 
 often appeared as if I felt the stroke quite as much when it fell 
 on the back of one of my favorites. In the course of human 
 events, it became necessary, in the opinion of the autocrat of the 
 school-house, to give Tim a sound drubbing every few days ; and I 
 remember that, more than once, I would have given the brighest 
 cent in my purse, if I could have taken the blows on my own 
 back, I pitied the poor little sinner so much. 
 
 But what was the fault of Tim Turnover? and what did he do, 
 or fail to do, that the master should show him such marked par- 
 tiality ? That you may clearly trace this efiect to its true cause, 
 I will give you a little pen-and-ink sketch ()f my playfellow. 
 
 Timothy Turnover, whose father's house was within a stone's 
 throw of ours, and whom I knew as intimately as if he liad been 
 a brother, was particularly fond of fun. " That is all well enough," 
 some one says. "Children can't help loving fun. They wouldn't 
 be children, if they were not as full of glee as the bobolink in sum- 
 mer." True, every word of it. But Tim's great fault — fur 1 must 
 say he was faulty, like the rest of us — consisted in lii» being so 
 
260 
 
 THE TWO PICTUEES 
 
 completely engrossed in liis play, that he had no mind for anything 
 else. He was so full of fun, that there was no room for any se- 
 riousness in him. He was the happiest fellow alive, as long as his 
 sports lasted. He entered into these sports with a zest wliich 
 would have done you good to see. He had a good deal of genius. 
 He could make a capital kite, one which would go ahead of any- 
 thing in the neighborhood. He had a knack at sketching, too, 
 and could draw a funny picture, which would make all the little 
 fellows laugh immoderately. He knew how to make a fierce-look- 
 ing man, by hollowing out a pumpkin, cutting holes for the eyes 
 and mouth, and notches for the teeth, and then lighting it up at 
 night with a piece of a candle. He could cut a most grotesque 
 figure out of a piece of paper, and make it resemble a fellow who 
 
THE TWO PICTURES. 
 
 261 
 
 PICTURE IL AT STUDY. 
 
 was as fond of humor as he was himself. Tim's face, when thus 
 engaged, was all aglow with laughter and delight. But oh ! what 
 a change took place when the fun-loving urchin had to go from 
 the play-ground to the school-room. He never could get along 
 with his lesson. The learning of his alphabet, I well recollect, cost 
 him more than one flogging and untold tears. He could cry as 
 easily as he could laugh. Indeed, my memory, in its daguerreo- 
 type portrait of the boy, has always sketched hira either with the 
 broadest grin on his countenance, or the tears streaming down his 
 cheeks. It would almost seem that the harder he tri«'d to loarn, 
 the more difficult he found the job ; for, fearing and quaking in 
 view of the master's wrath, whenever he was sensible tliat he could 
 not go through the ordeal of an examination on the lesson, the 
 
262 THE TWO PICTURES. 
 
 tears began to flow at once, the effect of which was, that he was 
 unable to see a single letter in his book. Tim never got used to 
 his floggings — as eels have been reputed to get used to very dis- 
 agreeable surgical operations on their own persons — Tim never 
 got used to his floggings, so as to endure them coolly and calmly. 
 He invariably made a mighty /us5 about them. He cried piteously 
 in anticipation of one of them ; he cried while it was going on ; 
 and he cried a long time after it was completed. Poor Tim ! He 
 more than once told me that he would rather rake hay or hoe corn, 
 in a broiHng sun, from morning till night, than sit down and com- 
 mit to memory a rule in grammar, or perfect himself in a spelling 
 lesson. I never saw him go willingly to school while I knew 
 him. Many and many a time, have I known him, trudging along 
 toward the school, with his book open before him and the leaves 
 wet with his tears. I recollect, however, that one time some of us 
 boys made him laugh in the midst of one of his crying spells, just 
 as he was entering the door of the school. This time his laugh- 
 ing machinery refused to stop after he had taken his seat. It 
 went on as briskly as ever in school-time, and the poor fellow 
 could not stop until the master had struck him three or four heavy 
 blows by way of shutting down the gate. The occasion of Tim's 
 outburst of laughter, on this occasion, I believe, was the remark 
 of one of the boys, that he would make a capital town crier. 
 
 I am sorry to say that Tim's aversion to study did not at all 
 abate with his advance in years. The same disposition to treat 
 the world as if it were a great play-house, exhibited itself all 
 through his boyhood. He was a fine playfellow, but a bad scholar. 
 Now, how easily could he have cured this habit of his, if he had 
 only set out to do it early in life, and set out in earnest. That boy 
 little thought how bitterly he would one day repent his having so 
 frittered away his time in early life. But he did repent it, and 
 will repent it till the day of his death. 
 
 The author of Lacon says the excesses of youth are drafts upon 
 our old age, payable with interest, about thirty'years after date. 
 
THE TWO FLOWEKS. 
 
 263 
 
 THE TWO FLOWERS. 
 
 In green and gentle grades, a bank 
 Down to a crystal river sank, 
 And lost itself amid the sedge 
 "Whose fringe o'erhung the -water's 
 
 edge. 
 Upon this verdant bank there grew 
 Two pretty little blossoms blue — 
 In childish love and sweet content. 
 Their happy, happy days were spent. 
 The playful zephyrs, in their freaks, 
 Would brush their wings against 
 
 their cheeks, 
 And they as playfully would fling 
 Their odors on the zephyrs' wing. 
 They loved to dance unto the tune 
 Played by the joyous breeze of June ; 
 Or, through the lattices of grass 
 Smile on the waters as they pass — 
 For, see! two mimic flowers are 
 
 there, 
 As blue, as graceful, and as fair ; 
 And those two flowers smile and 
 
 nod. 
 To these two blossoms on the sod. 
 
 At eve they bent their modest heads 
 Beneath the blessings heaven sheds ; 
 Still for the shadow and the dew 
 They gave their grateful homage 
 
 new. 
 At mom they raised their timid 
 
 eyes . 
 Devoutly to the eastern skies. 
 And drank the sunlight and the 
 
 breeze 
 And gave their daily thanks for 
 
 these ; 
 And He whose hand had placed 
 
 them there, 
 At morn and evening heard their 
 
 prayer. 
 
 So sped the time--a heavenly dream- 
 To these two blossoms by the stream. 
 
 A stranger strolling thitherward 
 Came gently stepping down the 
 
 sward. 
 And, looking round, he soon espied 
 Tliese blossoms by the river's side ; 
 He marked the proudest of the two, 
 And plucked it up from where it 
 
 grew. 
 And, ere the flower one word could 
 
 say. 
 The stranger bore it on his way. 
 
 But the poor blossom left behind 
 Soon heard it whispered in the wind 
 That its companion was afar 
 Amid a city's throng and jar, 
 Where chance had given it a home 
 Beneath a lofty palace dome. 
 Among the gorgeous shrines of Art, 
 That touched the eye, but not the 
 
 heart. 
 And lords and ladies came to gaze, 
 And the poor flower received their 
 
 praise. 
 
 And now the blossom left behind 
 Forgot its old content of mind ; 
 Forgot its modesty and worth, 
 And grew asliamed of its low birth. 
 Its joys all festered into care?, 
 And to complainings turned its 
 
 prayers ; 
 Its bosom folt the wild vinrost 
 Ambition gives tlie luiman brenxt ; 
 It longed to stand in o(iiinl pride 
 And beauty by the other's side- 
 It knew not tliat the other pined 
 For tlie dear scenes it loft behind. 
 
264 
 
 COUNSELS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 But so it -was ; its early mate 
 Had wearied of its high estate ; 
 It sickened of the heated air 
 That hung in sultry poison there ; 
 And when the opened casement gave 
 Free channel to the airy wave, 
 It bore along the city's taint, 
 That well nigh made the floweret 
 
 faint. 
 No loving stream was at its feet. 
 To lave them with caresses sweet. 
 The vision of the smiling sky 
 Only in glimpses blessed its eye ; 
 Dim fragments, seen through dusty 
 
 panes, 
 But mocked the blue arch o'er the 
 
 plains; 
 And even its own praises stung 
 From hollow heart and foolish 
 
 tongue. 
 
 Sadly the blossom bent its brow 
 That often throbbed with anguish 
 now ; 
 
 Bent it toward the olden spot 
 Forsaken — but oh, ne'er foijgot — 
 The song of some familiar bird 
 Fell on its ear — and now it heard 
 The rustling of the flags, whose 
 
 blades 
 Guarded its home with palisades ; 
 It saw, or thought it saw, a gleam 
 Flash thither from its native 
 
 stream, 
 And saw its dear old comrade, too, 
 Look up with loving eye, so 
 
 blue. 
 Ah ! these reproachful memories 
 
 came, 
 And sent their chill through all its 
 
 frame. 
 And, stricken with the heart's 
 
 decay. 
 
 It grieved its tender life away, — 
 
 But, till it fell, the blossom pined 
 
 For the dear scenes it left behind. 
 
 Ivan. 
 
 COUNSELS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 Fight hard against a hasty temper. Anger will come, but re- 
 sist it stoutly. A spark will set a house on fire. A fit of passion 
 may give you cause to mourn all the days of your life. Never 
 revenge an injury. 
 
 He that revenges knows not rest; 
 The meek possess a peaceful "breast. 
 
 If you have an enemy, act kindly to him, and make him your 
 friend. You may not win him at once, but try him again. Let 
 one kindness be followed by another, till you have compassed your 
 ends. By little and little, great things are completed. 
 
 Water falling day hy daj, 
 Wears the hardest rock away. 
 
THE DATE PALM-TREE. 
 
 265 
 
 THE DATE PALM-TREE. 
 
 I'^HERE are several species of the palm-tree, as my readers are 
 probably aware. One of the most interesting of the species 
 is that which bears dates, and which I have represented in the above 
 engraving. I saw one of these trees in a large conservatory in 
 Europe, and to my eye it was a splendid sight. Whon this tree is 
 full grown, in its native climate, it frequently reaches the height of 
 a hundred feet. It has been pronounced the most beautiful tree 
 in the whole range of the vegetable kingdom. It consists of one 
 stalk, rising from the root to the summit. It has no branches, 
 preperly speaking. You might suppose that this circumstance 
 would materially impair its beauty ; but such is not the fact. 
 
 VOL. V. 12 .TK. 
 
266 THE DATE PALM-TREE. 
 
 Leaves, gracefully disposed, supply the place of branches, and these 
 spring from the trunk at some distance from the root, and on and 
 near the summit of the tree. These leaves are from six to eight 
 feet in length. From the elegance of their form and arrangement, 
 the tree seems to be crowned with a diadem. The trunk of this 
 tree is full of rugged knots, which are the marks of those spots from 
 which the decayed leaves fall down, and which are never replaced 
 by new leaves. The trunk is not solid, as is the case with our foi-est 
 trees. It resembles the cane, the centre being filled with pith, while 
 the outer part, as the tree advances in age, gradually becomes woody. 
 
 You are acquainted with the fruit of this tree, I presume, as 
 dates are to be found in all our cities and large towns. It has a 
 sweet and very agreeable taste. The uses to which this tree may 
 be applied are very numerous. In the songs of Eastern countries, 
 where it grows, it was celebrated as being useful for no less than 
 three hundred and sixty purposes. Whether the poets, in the ex- 
 ercise of the license so generally accorded to them, exaggerated a 
 little or not, I am unable to say ; but there can be no doubt that 
 the fruit, the trunk, the leaves, and the root may be applied to a 
 multitude of useful purposes. Travelers inform us, that a very con- 
 siderable portion of the inhabitants of Egypt, Arabia, and Persia 
 subsist, to a great extent, on its fruit. Its medicinal virtues have 
 been also highly extolled. From the leaves, couches, bags, mats, 
 baskets, brushes, and an almost endless variety of articles are made. 
 The stems of the leaves are employed in making cages for poultry, 
 and fences for gardens. From the fibres of these stems, threads, 
 ropes, and rigging for vessels are formed. The inhabitants of those 
 Eastern countries also prepare a spirituous liquor from the sap of 
 the tree, though I incline to the opinion that they would be better 
 off without this liquor than they can be with it The body of the 
 palm-tree furnishes fuel. 
 
 Several parts of Palestine formerly abounded with the palm- 
 tree. Jericho, you may recollect, used to be called " the city of 
 palm-trees." In thirty years after this tree is transplanted, it at- 
 tains its growth. It continues to retain most of its splendor until 
 it is about seventy years old, after which, though very gradually, it 
 declines, and at about the age of two hundred years, it dies. Sol- 
 
LITTLE mart's VISION. 267 
 
 omon, according to the sacred historian, built a city in the wilder- 
 ness, which was called by the Hebrew name, Tadmor, signifyinir a 
 palm, from the number of palms which grew around it. The Ro- 
 mans, for the same reason, called the city Palmyra. Palm-trees, 
 by the ancients, were esteemed symbols of victory ; hence the 
 saints in heaven are represented in the book of Revelations, as 
 having palms in their hands. 
 
 LITTLE MARY'S VISION. 
 
 BY MRS. J. H. HANAFORD. 
 
 Calmly at the close of day, 
 On her couch sweet Mary lay ; 
 Pale her brow, serenely fair. 
 Death's own icy touch was there. 
 
 Gazing at the sunset sky, 
 Murmured she, " I soon must die, 
 Father! 'mid this fiiding light, 
 Cheer me by Thine angel bright." 
 
 Swift as arrow thro' the air. 
 Winged his way, then, Gabriel, there, 
 Coming from before the Throne, 
 Heav'nly radiance o'er him shone. 
 
 " Gabriel," saith the child, " I dread 
 Soon the shadow-vale to tread;" 
 Soft the angel-voice replied, 
 "Fear thou not, for Christ hath died; 
 
 " Leaning on His potent arm, 
 Thou shalt be preserved from harm, 
 Free from sin, and far from sorrow, 
 ' Thou shalt hail a glad to-morrow." 
 
 Trusting in the Crucified, 
 Ere the morning Mary died; 
 Far from sorrow, free from sin 
 Heav'n's gates she entered in. 
 Nantucket, Mass 
 
268 
 
 THE SPONGE. 
 
 THE SPONGE. 
 
 iWBouLD you have guessed that the sponge is an ani- 
 mal ? You smile when the thought of the pos- 
 sibility of such a thing crosses your mind. And 
 yet the sponge does belong to the animal kingdom. 
 John Ellis it was who proved the sponge to be an ani- 
 mal. We have many native sponges, chiefly of a 
 " '"""' ^ branched form, but growing sometimes in little mounds, 
 tufts, and crests upon rocks, or lying about the shore at the roots 
 of the sea-weeds, or corallines, which have been forced by the sea 
 from their attachments on the rocks. Many of our native species 
 
 grow at about the point 
 of low-water mark, where 
 though washed by the 
 tide, they are daily left 
 uncovered. A common 
 sort, the branched 
 sponge, i^Halichondria 
 oculata,) may be seen 
 frequently on our shore 
 among the refuse of the 
 waves. It is composed of branches about the size of a goose-quill, 
 usually on a stem a little thicker, and is often a foot long. Its 
 color is that of a light sand. Few of our native kinds have any 
 bright tints, but those of hot climates are often remarkably beau- 
 tiful in form and brilliant in hue. Backhouse, in his " Travels in 
 Van Dieman's Land," describes a remarkable bank of sponges on 
 the shores of the bay at Circular Head, which was several hundred 
 yards long, and more than a yard thick. He also observed several 
 banks of smaller dimensions and of numerous and curious species. 
 
THE SPONGE. 269 
 
 " In their living state," says this traveler, " the sponges upon this 
 coast are filled with a scarlet, crimson, or bright yellow pulp, and 
 covered with a thin skin. They are of great beauty, when seen in 
 clear water." 
 
 The sponges of our toilet are mei'e frame-works ; and few readers, 
 unless they be naturalists, have seen a living sponge, for it is not a 
 very frequent sight, and must be looked for if found. The canals 
 and pores of a sponge, while living, are filled with a thin, jelly-like 
 fluid, which is seen by the aid of the microscope to be entirely 
 formed of minute grains, with some moisture. That portion of the 
 sponge which we generally find on the shore is simply the skele- 
 ton, the animal having died on exposure to air. This frarae-work 
 in some species consists of horny and elastic fibres ; in othera it is 
 of a firm, unbending tissue, full of little crystallized sharp points. 
 These abound in most of the common sponges, rendering them un- 
 fit for domestic purposes. 
 
 It would be impossible here to describe sponges. In the higher 
 forms of animal life, the individuals of one species have all re- 
 semblances which may be stated, buj^ sponges, even of the same 
 kind, diflfer from each other in figure and development too much 
 to admit of popular description. Most wonderful processes take 
 place in the living animal. Dr. Grant once, while observing one 
 under a microscope in some sea-water, perceived an inward motion 
 in the opaque particles floating through the water. He brought 
 one of the apertures of the sponge immediately into view, and thus 
 describes the wonderful spectacle which it presented. " I beheld,'' 
 he says, "for the first time, this living fountain gi\'ing forth, from 
 a circular cavity, an impetuous torrent of liquid matter, and hurl- 
 ing along, in rapid succession, opaque masses which it strewed 
 everywhere around. The beauty and novelty of such a scene in 
 the animal kdngdoni long arrested my attention, but after twenty- 
 five minutes of constant observation, I was obliged to withdraw my 
 eye, from fatigue, without having seen the torrent for one instant 
 change its direction, or diminish in the slightest degree the m- 
 pidity of its course." The engraving represents the action of a 
 living sponge, discharging the water downwards ; and many nutu- 
 ralists have since beheld a sight seldom seen by the unscientific ob- 
 
270 THE SNAIL AND HIS SHELL. 
 
 server. When the animal of the sponge dies, of course this 
 action ceases entirely. 
 
 THE SNAIL AND HIS SHELL. 
 
 A FABLE. 
 
 ASl^AIL had long lived very happy by the sea-side, in his shell, 
 which, if it was not very large, was quite large enough for him. 
 One evening as he was rambling about, drawing his house after him, 
 as usual, he saw, to his great delight, a large shell lying on the ground. 
 
 He had never seen so large a shell before, and he began to think 
 what a fine house it would make. It was not a thin shell like his 
 own, but a large, handsome, strong one, and the entrance to it 
 shone like pearl. 
 
 The snail moved round it, to look at it on all sides, and the more 
 he saw of it the more he was pleased. At last he took courage to 
 peep inside, and putting out his long feelers, he groped his way from 
 one room to another till he thought he should never reach the last. 
 
 No one was there to disp^ite his right to remain, and, without 
 further thought, he bade good-bye to his old, little shell, and, pleased 
 with thinking what a fine new house he had found, and how his 
 old friends would envy him, he crept into the shell. 
 
 Night came on. The wind blew, and the snail began to feel that 
 his fine house was not quite so comfortable as he had expected. 
 In the one he had left it was so small that he could with ease keep 
 out the cold, but in the present one the wind howled through every 
 chamber, and almost froze him to death. 
 
 While he was shivering from the cold, he heard a strange noise, 
 which grew louder and louder. It was the tide, which was fast 
 rising, and he tried with all his strength to move his new house 
 away from the danger. He tugged and panted, but all in vain. 
 
 The tide was just upon him, and he had barely time to grope his way 
 back to the old shell he had despised, and hurry oflf to a more 
 secure spot. 
 
 " Ah," said he, as he trudged off with his old shell on his back, 
 " it is better to be content with a little, than to aim at great things 
 quite out of our sphere." 
 
ANCIENT SANDALS 
 
 27: 
 
 ANCIENT SANDALS. 
 
 SANDALS, in the olden time, were worn very generally instead 
 of shoes. The Egyptians, Hebrews, Greeks, and Romans wore 
 them. The sandal was sometimes made of leather entirely, and 
 sometimes of leather and cork. It left the foot bare on the top, 
 and afforded no protection against the dust. Sandals were not in- 
 tended to be used in the house. Those who had been walking in 
 the street, when they entered a dwelling, left them at the door. 
 The feet, as you may suppose, almost invariably needed washing, 
 when the sandal was taken off; and this circumstance will throw 
 light on the frequent allusions to the washing of the feet which are 
 found in the Bible. It was deemed but a common mark of re- 
 spect among the Hebrews to furnish their guests with the means 
 of washing their feet, as soon as they entered. Servants frequently 
 performed this act for the family and their guests ; and it was to 
 impress upon his disciples the duty of humility and solf-sacrifice 
 among themselves, that our Saviour condescended to wash their 
 feet. 
 
 Sandals are still worn, to some extent, among several Eastern 
 nations. I have often seen the Capuchin monks in Italy woaring 
 them. These relics of a half-civilized state, seem to suit the filthy 
 habits of this fraternity exactly. Their idea of grace seems to bo 
 that it is something which will spoil without a thick coating of 
 dirt. 
 
272 THE WITTY DOMIlSriCAN. 
 
 Sandals are worn in India, too. At the doors of Hindoo pago- 
 das, I have been told, sandals are collected in immense numbers, 
 the worshipers invariably leaving them at the outer door. The 
 Turks also wear them, and take them off at the door of their 
 mosques. 
 
 ♦^ 
 
 THE WITTY DOMINICAN. 
 
 BY far the most intelligent and companionable of all the differ- 
 ent orders of monks one meets in the south of Europe, are 
 the Dominicans. They are now somewhat and have been still 
 more celebrated for their preaching talents. In this respect, they 
 are far superior, even, to the Jesuits, being generally trained from 
 their childhood with especial reference to the service of the pul- 
 pit. The Neapolitans tell a great many stories about the wit of a 
 certain Father Rocco, belonging to this order, who for many years 
 officiated in Naples. On one occasion, it is related, he preached 
 on the mole a penitential sermon, and introduced so many illus- 
 trations of terror, that he soon brought his hearers to their knees. 
 While they were thus showing every sign of contrition, he cried 
 out, " Now all of you who sincerely repent of your sins, hold up 
 your hands !" Every man in the vast multitude immediately 
 stretched out both his hands. " Holy Archangel Michael," ex- 
 claimed Rocco, " thou who with thy adamantine sword standest at 
 the right of the judgment seat of God, hew me off every hand 
 which has been raised hypocritically." In an instant every hand 
 dropped, and Rocco, of course, poured forth a fresh torrent of elo- 
 quent invective against their sins and deceit. 
 
 He had a great dislike to tobacco, and when once preaching to a 
 crowd of Spanish sailors, he astounded them by telling them that 
 there were no Spanish saints in heaven. A few, he said, had been 
 admitted, but they smoked so many cigars that they made the 
 Holy Virgin sick, and St. Peter set his wits to work to get them 
 out At length he proclaimed that a bull-fight was to be held 
 outside the gate of Paradise. Thereupon every Spanish saint, 
 without exception, ran off to see the fight, and St. Peter immediately 
 closed the gate, and took care never to admit another Spaniard. 
 
VOL. V. 
 
 A STRING OF PUNS. 273 
 
 A STKING OF PUN'S. 
 
 We know the meaning of most words 
 
 By sound as well as sight; 
 They mean, although they have no mien^ 
 
 So mind and write them right. 
 
 For thus in " eccentricity," 
 
 One sees good many c'«, 
 Also, in " hubbubbubberous," 
 
 The Vs are thick as lees. 
 
 There are no i's in English " eyes,'^ 
 
 But e's there are in "ease," 
 A does not want ye to make it " aye," 
 
 There's but one jp in peas. 
 
 Some judges judge the English tongue, 
 
 But kill it with a breath ; 
 With wind and words they sentence aome 
 
 Fine sentences to death. 
 
 A sea-horse is a sea-horse, when 
 
 You see him in the sea; 
 But when you sec him in the hay, 
 
 A hay horse then is he. 
 
 Of course a race course isn't coarse; 
 
 A jlne is far from jine ; 
 It is a saddening sight to see 
 
 A noble fine tree pine. 
 
 If miners are all minors, then 
 
 Their guardians get their gains; 
 All glaziers extra yains should take 
 
 To put in extra jpanes. 
 
 A kitchen maid is often made 
 
 To burn her face, and broil it; 
 A lady knows no labor, but 
 
 To toil it at her toilet ! 
 
 12* « 
 
274 
 
 FOSSIL SHELLS. 
 
 FOSSIL SHELLS. 
 
 HALK is entirely a marine deposit. That white sub- 
 stance is composed of lime and carbonic acid, and 
 may have been precipitated from water holding lime 
 in solution, from which an excess of carbonic acid 
 was expelled. But a large proportion of our purest chalk is 
 chiofly, if not wholly, composed of the remains of corals, 
 zoophytes, shells, star-fishes, and other animal substances ; and 
 in some portions of chalk, relics of sea-weeds appear in great 
 abundance. We can at any time find remains of large shells in 
 the chalk ; but never till the microscope was brought to bear upon 
 the crushed or perfect shells which form the grains of this material, 
 could we imagine how many myriads of these lay hidden to the 
 human eye. Ehrenberg ascertained the wonderful fact, that a cu- 
 bic inch of chalk may contain upwards of a million of the fossil 
 remains of perfect shells and corals. Little does the thoughtless 
 wanderer on the shore think to what small animals he is indebted 
 for the portion of earth on which he is walking. That chalk too 
 will, if burned, make as good lime as the hardest marble. Many 
 buildings have been made of chalk. Thus the abbey of Hurley, in 
 Berkshire, England, and its parish church, anciently a chapel, are 
 said to be made of chalk, and the remains of these are as fresh 
 and unimpaired as if the builders had been men of the last century. 
 Many other deposits besides the chalk consist largely of marine re- 
 mains, and sometimes stand far away from the present boundaries 
 of the ocean, containing still traditions of the sea. But the ex- 
 tensive and magnificent range of chalk cliff's along the southern coasts 
 of England are among the most remarkable to be found in the world. 
 Among those patriarchal cliffs some of the commonest fossils 
 may be found at any time, but we may chance too to find some 
 of the rarest ; for however carefully any portions of cliffs may be 
 
FOSSIL SHELLS. 
 
 275 
 
 examined, the frequent fracture, and constant wearing of tlie sur- 
 face, leave fresh parts yet unstudied. The shells contained in the 
 chalk are often similar to those which are now washed up by the 
 waves, and are at once recognized as resembling familiar things ; 
 but they are found to be different species from those now in our 
 seas. Oysters, scallops, and various other common genera abound 
 there ; while there are also many which, even at a glance, we 
 know to be different from the shells of the present times. The 
 shells found in the chalk are chiefly two-valved species. But 
 perhaps the shells most easily described to a reader unacquaint- 
 ed with these objects, are those of the nautilus and ammon- 
 ite. The ammonite is altogether ex- 
 tinct in our seas, yet it must once have 
 abounded there, for in some limestone 
 districts the marble is almost wholly com- 
 posed of its shells. The ammonite ( Cornu 
 Ammonis) was so named from its fan- 
 cied resemblance to the horn of Jupiter 
 Ammon, and it varies in size from a 
 most minute shell to one of twelve, or 
 even fourteen feet m circumference. This 
 coiled shell is well known in geological 
 collections by the name of snake-stone. 
 There is an old Popish story, which has section of ax ammontte. 
 come down to us through a great many priestly hands, but whicn 
 you will find it very difficult to believe, which runs thus : 
 
 "Of a thousand snakes eaca one 
 Was turn'd into a coil of stons 
 When holy Hilda pray'd." 
 
 And some similar traditions yet linger among the ignorant, where 
 these shells abound. The species of the nautilus found in chalk 
 \vill be easily distinguished froiw other shells, because although the 
 exact forms are extinct, yet the nautilus still spreads its gau/,y sail 
 to the zephyrs of tropical seas, and its clear and beautifully foriiicl 
 shell is so commonly used as an ornament, that we are all familiar 
 with it. The nautilus and similar shells are among the earli.-st 
 
276 THE LARGEST FLOWER. 
 
 traces of the animal kingdom, and must once have been very nu- 
 merous. Mrs. Ho wilt's lines to this fossil shell are very appro- 
 priate : 
 
 ♦'Thou didst laugh, at sun and "breeze, 
 In the new-created seas ; 
 Thou wast -with the reptile hroods 
 In the old sea solitudes ; 
 Sailing in the new-made light 
 With the curl'd-up ammonite. 
 Thou survivd'st the awful shock 
 Which turn'd the ocean-hed to rock, 
 And changed the myriad living 8warm.3 
 To the marhle's veined forms." 
 
 THE LARGEST FLOWER 
 
 IT is said that the largest and perhaps the most remarkable pro- 
 duction of the floral kingdom, is the flower called Rafflesia 
 Arnoldii — discovered in Sumatra by Sir Stamford Raffles and his 
 friend, Dr. Arnold. This plant possesses neither stem nor leaves, 
 but is mere flower, which grows parasitically from the stem of a 
 species of vine. Its roots, which penetrate the vine, are very mi- 
 nute. The first appearance of this flower is that of a small knob, 
 or tubercle, on the bark of the vine. This knob gradually increases 
 until it attains the size of a large cabbage, at length bursts forth 
 into a gigantic flower. It is said that the diameter of the flower 
 is three and a half feet, its weight fifteen pounds, and the hollow 
 of its centre of the capacity of fifteen pints. The petals are an 
 inch and a half thick near the base. The color is a brick red, 
 inclining to orange, marked occasionally with blotches of white and 
 of a deeper red. The plant is diaecious — the stamens forming a 
 bearded circle around a large, flesh excrescence in the centre, whiqh 
 is beset with thorny projections, shaped like cows' horns. The 
 flower is endowed with a powerful, although disagreeable odor. 
 Its period of existence is brief. 
 
EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 281 
 
 ■|H I ,i,|'||„h ijftril .ill niiiillill', lllii.' 
 
 EDITOEIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 Savannah, Ga. May 3, 1854. 
 
 PRESUMING that among my numerous readers, I have none wiio 
 are troubled with short memories, I think I may take it for 
 granted that you all recollect the place where our last table was 
 spread. '* In the old town of St. Augustine," says one. That's 
 correct. The position of the table has changed a little, as you see, 
 and we will now sit down at Savannah. About St. Augustine, and 
 other places in Florida, I have told you something in the present 
 number of the Cabinet^ so that, just now, perhaps wo will chat 
 about something else. 
 
 Shall I tell you how I amused a group of children, the other 
 day, here in Georgia ? There wero four of these children, as 
 
282 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 bright as our Northern boys and girls, and quite as fond of hear- 
 ing stories. And by the way, I have found these little folks, wher- 
 ever I have been, in America and Europe, pretty .wide awake when 
 a story was to be told. " Come here, Fanny," said I ; " would you 
 like to hear about some little birds, that got caught in a snow 
 storm ?" Fanny said, nothmg could please her better. So she 
 came and seated herself in my lap, and the other children stood 
 around my chair, while I told them about the birds. Suppose, my 
 young friend, I tell you the story, as I told it to the Southern children ? 
 
 I had a letter from home the other day — from ray own dear 
 home on the banks of the lovely Hudson river. The letter was 
 written partly by my brother and partly by my'sister. You do 
 not need to be told, that, in the spring of the year, it is much 
 warmer in Georgia than it is in New York. Well, this letter de- 
 scribed a scene that took place at " Woodside," our country home, 
 on the 15th day of April. I had senl^home from Savannah some 
 green peas, strawberries, and a great variety of roses and other 
 flowers ; and while I, here in Savannah, with my summer clothing 
 on, was sitting at my open window, endeavoring to catch every 
 breath of air that passed that way, my friends at home were dis- 
 cussing these green peas and strawberries in a room heated by a 
 stove, while the snow lay on the ground to a depth of more than a 
 foot. 
 
 " But what has that to do with the birds ?" So asked my 
 Southern friends, and so, perhaps, you ask. 
 
 Well, you'll see in a moment. You know that many of the dear 
 little birds, which gladden us with their music in the summer, leave 
 us in the autumn, and seek a milder climate, where they pass the 
 winter. The next spring, as the weather grows warm at the South, 
 they begin to think of emigrating again to our part of the coun- 
 try. Many of them are with us as early as the middle of April. 
 It seems, that, this season, numerous blue birds, robins, wrens, and 
 sparrows had made their appearance at " Woodside," even earlier 
 than the middle of the month. The weather, at first, was tolerably 
 mild, and they sang and flitted merrily about from tree to tree, 
 dehberating, no doubt, where they would build their nests. 
 
 But suddenly this severe snow storm came on, and the whole 
 
EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 283 
 
 scene was changed. The songs of the poor birds ceased. They 
 thought no more about their nests. Each one had as much as he 
 could do to keep from freezing. They were in danger, too, of 
 starvation, as the ground was entirely covered, and they knew not 
 where to seek for food. In this sad plight, they flew wildly about 
 the house, as if they were distracted. 
 
 " Poor things ! and what did become of them ?" 
 I am coming to that part of the story, and shall reach it very 
 soon, if you'll be patient. Just as soon as there were paths opened 
 to the barn and wash-house, these little birds, whole flocks of them, 
 invited by the sight of the bare ground, alighted in these paths, 
 and Maggy, the good, kind-hearted girl, who always takes so much 
 pains to feed us, this time took equal pains to feed the poor birds. 
 She threw out crumbs of bread, in generous quantities, until all the 
 birds had as much as they wanted to eat. After this, little Mary 
 and other members of the family would feed them, several times a 
 day, just in the same way as they fed the chickens. These little 
 fellows became singularly tame. One of them, while the door of 
 the house stood open, flew in, and amused the children with his 
 bird gambols, for a day or two ; and when the window was opened, 
 and he was invited to take his leave, he seemed rather unwilling to 
 quit his nice, warm retreat. 
 
 The doors and windows of the barn were left open all the time, 
 for the benefit of these unfortunate birds ; and for several days, 
 while the snow lasted, they made themselves at home there. It 
 will gratify you to learn, that, though they must have suff'ered a 
 great deal, and been half frightened out of their wits, none ot 
 them, so far as I have heard, died in consequence of the severity 
 of the storm. I have no doubt, that, by this time, more than one 
 robin has nearly completed her nest on the high trees in our glen, 
 while the little, busy, twittering wren has cosily refitted her old 
 abode in the box hanging on the gable of the barn, half covered 
 over with the grape vine. I hope so. I should feel sad, if I were 
 to find, on my return home, that my cherished pets, the birds, had 
 taken a lease of some other place, and had forgotten their old 
 friends. I can't aftbrd to part with such tenants, for they pay very 
 high rents, and very promptly too. 
 
284 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 My readers will expect to hear something about ray health. It 
 is better, much better. The Lord has been very kind to me ever 
 since I left home, and I have not for a moment wanted the sym- 
 pathy and care of warm-hearted friends. My brief sojourn in this 
 sunny clime has been an exceedingly pleasant one; and though I 
 have necessarily led a somewhat indolent life, owing to the state 
 of my health, I trust it has not been an unprofitable one. If I con- 
 tinue to advance in health, as I hope I may, I shall probably be at 
 my post again before this number of the Cabinet reaches you. 
 
 HOME AGAIN. 
 
 I am again at my post, dear friends, two weeks having elapsed 
 since the above was written, and I am now driving my pen almost 
 as rapidly as ever. I left the city of Savannah, in the steamer 
 Augusta, on the 13th, and arrived on the 16th of May. A great 
 many letters, mostly relating, in some way, to the " Puzzler's 
 Drawer," were piled up on my table at " Woodside." I was glad 
 to see them all, though it will take a few weeks, I think, to get 
 quite through this budget. 
 
 To Mrs. Newbould, my ingenious and unwearied assistant, is due 
 much of the interest and raciness which this and the preceding 
 number possesses. Everybo'dy, but herself, will acknowledge that 
 we are all deeply in her debt. 
 
 THE invalid's SALAD. 
 
 " Pray, sir," said I, the other day, to an invalid who was seated 
 next me at dinner on board a steamer, " do you eat this salad with 
 impunity ?" " By no means," was the reply ; " I eat it with mus- 
 tard and vinegar." 
 
 Uncle Frank, — At the earnest request of my daughter Fannie, 
 who takes a deep interest in your Cabinet^ I send you a budget of 
 anagrams. And as their history may suggest a new source of 
 profit and pleasure to some of your readers, I give you that also. 
 Some time ago my two children took a fancy to cut out the capi- 
 tal letters from all the waste paper that fell in their way. These, 
 when pasted upon pasteboard by Aunt H. furnished them with 
 
EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 285 
 
 quite an assortment of all the letters of the alphabet, in the pro- 
 portions necessary for word-making. Having exhausted the amuse- 
 ment of preparing them, the children set their wits at work to find 
 pleasure in using them. They soon began to give each other the 
 commingled letters forming words, from which to discover the 
 words. In this game the whole family soon became much inter- 
 ested ; for we are all childish enough to join with our children in 
 their plays. It was soon found to be very convenient to use the 
 separate letters in forming anagrams, and we have wondered to 
 find how many words a few letters will make, and into what curious 
 sentences some long wordo can be resolved. A few of the best 
 anagrams thus discovered constitute the enclosed budget. We think 
 this amusement very profitable to our children, in increasing their 
 skill in spelling and their knowledge of words. We know it to 
 be very attractive, for it has been the regular after-tea entertain- 
 ment for a long time, and does not begin to grow old yet. Per- 
 haps some of your little readeis who are apt to say " Pa, what 
 sIulU I do ?" " Ma, what shall I play ?" may find in this letter a 
 hint worth acting upon. If so, no one will be better pleased than 
 myself. 
 
 BUDGET OF ANAGRAMS, NO. V. 
 L Lo! I EEIGN. 4. I RUN TO TiTUS BaYS. 
 
 2. All irt hot, sir. 6. I cannot RmE so. 
 
 3. No stern action. 6. In a bay or port. 
 
 7. Ariel got a burn. uncle john. 
 
 ENIGMA NO. VII. 
 
 I am composed of 7 letters. 
 
 My 1, 2, 4, is an animal. ^, 
 
 My 4, 2, 1, a powerful ruler. 
 
 My 4, 2, 6, 1, is sought for its value. 
 
 My 7 6, 4, means settling down. 
 
 My whole was a Scotchman of renown. william d. 
 
 puzzle. 
 TakiB five from five, and in its place put twice five hundred and fifty 
 "What musical instrument will it name ? katie. 
 
 Katie challenges the boys and girls to make a sentence or couplet, 
 
286 EDITOKIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 triplet or quatrain, containing every letter in the alphabet but e, and 
 which shall make good sense. 
 
 SCRIPTURE ANAGRAMS. 
 
 1. Paee him. 2. As MULE. 3. In dale. 4. Lupa. 
 
 ^ KATIE. 
 
 BUDGET OF ANAGRAMS, NO. VI. 
 
 1. Dandy ewes. 3. Red nuts and gin. 
 
 2. Fished urn. 4. Ran to except. 
 
 5. Mat nod. john r. 
 
 NAMES OF PLACES IN ILLINOIS, ENIGMATICALLY EXPRESSED. 
 
 1. A tree, and a tract of land. 
 
 2. One of the points of the compass, and a preposition. 
 
 3. A drink, and a game of cards. 
 
 4» A solitary person, and a portion of time. 
 
 5. A rural occupation, and a weight. j. a. davis. 
 
 MORE CUTTINGS FOR PLANTING. 
 
 1. If a miser be planted, what will grow ? 
 
 2. If the Bible be planted, what will grow? 
 
 3. If a brave dandy be planted, what will grow 1 jennie. 
 
 answer to budget of anagrams, no. iv. 
 
 1. Red nag. Garden. 
 
 2. He gets our sins. Righteousness. 
 
 3. The war. Wreath. 
 
 4. Go, LOST RAY. Astrology. 
 
 5. Stray moon. Astronomy. 
 
 6. A sun's height. Haughtiness. 
 
 7. Hot drug. Drought. 
 
 8. Care pent me in. Intemperance. 
 Answered by Freddy D. Allen, H. D. Foster, L. H. W., Gertrude E. 
 
 and Ella S. Cooke, and Helen Norton. 
 
 ANSWER TO jerry S PUZZLE. 
 
 A pilot met a mendicant, and asked him if he would go to sea. He 
 replied that he would rather die on shore encircled by the arms of his 
 kindred. 
 
 Answered by Freddy D. Allen, all except the second word, which he 
 could not possibly make out. You have done very well, my little fel- 
 
EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 287 
 
 low, to complete the solution, with this exception. The puzzle was a 
 hard one — so they all say who have tried it. 
 
 ANSWER TO JOHN R.'s QUESTION. 
 
 Enoch lived as many years as there are days in a year. 
 
 Answered by Freddy D. Allen, Mary W. R., Henry A. Danker, Jane 
 O. De Forrest, A. J. Wheeler, B. L. H. W., Gertrude E. and Ella S. 
 Cooke, Anna M. and Cornelia IM. Parmele, and Bessie. 
 
 answer to cuttings for planting. 
 
 1. Wall-flower. 2. Love lies bleeding. 3. Sun-dial. 
 
 Answered by Henry A. Danker, ^sop, Mary M'Cormick, Freddv D. 
 Allen, C. A. Stillwell, Mary W. R., Lucy S. and Horace Abbot, Jane 
 O. De Forest, B. L. Mudge, L. H. "W., (one incorrect) Fannie C. Ford, 
 and Gertrude E. and Ella S. Cooke. 
 
 answer to enig^ia no. v. 
 Necessity is the mother of invention. 
 Answers were sent by Mary W. R., " Patapsco Boy," A J. Wheeler, 
 B. L. Mudge, L. H. W. and Charles Bennett. 
 
 answers to names of places in maine, enigmatically 
 expressed. 
 
 1. Rumford. 3. Orangefield. 5. Frankfort. 
 
 2. Greenville. 4. Anson. 6. Marysville. 
 Solved by Henry A. Danker, Anna Quackenbush, Mary ^I'Cormiek, 
 
 Freddy D. Allen, Mary W. R., " Patapsco Boy," Jane O. De Forest, 
 A. J. Wheeler, A. B. Foster, G. H. H., L. Mudge, L. H. W., Gertrude 
 E. and Ella S. Cooke, T. M. Carter, Anna M. and Cornelia M. Parmele, 
 Helen Norton, and " Scotchy." 
 
 answer to charade no. VI. 
 
 Cabinet. 
 Solved by Henry A. Danker, Anna Quackenbush, " /Esop," Freddy 
 D. Allen, Mary W. R., A. J. Wheeler, B., L. H. W., T. M. Carter, 
 Anna M. and Cornelia M. Parmele, Helen Norton, and " Scotchy." 
 
 ANSWER TO ENIGMA NO. VI. 
 
 And WHERE does your LORrsHir enter ? 
 Solved by Henry A. Danker, /Esop, '-PaUipsco Boy," G. H. H. 
 L. Mudge, L. H. W and Helen Norton. 
 
288 EDITORIAL TABLE TALK. 
 
 THE HIGHLAND NURSERIES. 
 
 Those of our friends -who are in want of trees or shrubbery of any kind, 
 can hardly do better than to purchase of Messrs. A. Saul & Co. proprie- 
 tors of the " Highland Nurseries," at Newburgh, in this State. They 
 keep a very large assortment on hand. Indeed, we have found that al- 
 most everything which will flourish in the Northern States can be had 
 at their establishment ; and we have found, too, that everything from 
 them always comes in the best possible order. Oh, what a splendid va- 
 riety of roses came down from Newburgh, the other day, for " "Woodside." 
 It would have done your eyes good to look at them. And then the ver- 
 benas ! " too numerous to mention," as the dry goods merchant phrases 
 it in his advertisements, to say nothing about the " Fastoffs," the " Red 
 Antwerps," and 1 know not what besides. "Well, would you believe it ? 
 every one of these plants lived, and now promises to do well. 
 
 TEMPERANCE DINING SALOON. 
 
 Mr. Savery, who, for several years, has kept a dining saloon in our 
 city, and has given very general satisfaction, has just opened a mammoth 
 establishment on Beekman Street, near Nassau. It is one of the largest 
 in the city, and bids fair to be one of the most popular. One element in 
 it will especially commend it to the patronage of those who like to give 
 a wide berth to all kind* of intoxicating liquors. It is kept strictly on 
 temperance principles. Mr. Savery is now able to accommodate stran- 
 gers visiting the city with all the accommodations of a hotel on the 
 European plan. His premises embrace five storeys, and he has a large 
 number of sleeping apartments, provided with neat and comfortable beds. 
 "We can cheerfully recommend his house to our friends from abroad, as 
 well as those at home. 
 
 carpet ESTABLISHMENT. 
 
 Those who patronize Hiram Anderson, whose mammoth store is at 99 
 Bowery, will be sure to get a good article, at a fair price, and to be 
 handsomely waited on into the bargain. Every variety of carpeting and 
 floor cloths can be found at his establishment, and " they say" that his 
 prices are somewhat more reasonable than those of his Broadway rivals. 
 At all events, he boldly challenges a comparison. 
 
 THE PLANTER S HOTEL, 
 
 At Augusta, Ga. is one of the very best houses of entertainment in the 
 Southern States. It is kept by Mr. Simpson, a gentleman of much expe- 
 rience as an innkeeper, and who devotes himself industriously and ac- 
 ceptably to the accommodation of his guests. 
 
Jllglrabetiral |nire^. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Abbey of Fowre 116 
 
 A Dollar for Good News 169 
 
 Adventures with Ghosts 226 
 
 Alphonso, the Runaway 15 
 
 Ancient Sandals 271 
 
 Anecdote of "Wesley 258 
 
 Anecdotes about Rats 27Y 
 
 Antelope 218 
 
 Arabian Conquest of Persia. . . 121 
 
 Atheist 183 
 
 Arnold's Escape 176 
 
 Avezzana, General 83 
 
 A Wonderful Clock 248 
 
 Bedouin's Deceit 90 
 
 Bell Ringer, a Swiss 125 
 
 Birds, Ingenuity of. 191 
 
 Blessing of the "Waters 73 
 
 Book Titles, Curious 184 
 
 Books in Old Times 121 
 
 California Indians 89 
 
 Canary Bird's Love 137 
 
 Chameleon and his Judges 65 
 
 Clergyman and his Horse 36 
 
 Clerk and the Grammarian.. . . 115 
 
 Clock, a wonderful 248 
 
 Cocoa Tree 213 j 
 
 Conquest of Persia 121 I 
 
 Counsels for the Young 264 ' 
 
 Cow Tree 187 
 
 Cunning Horse 133 
 
 Curiosities of Sleep 178 
 
 Curious Book Titles 184 , 
 
 Date Polm Tree 265 
 
 Deaf and Dumb Boy 189 
 
 Dean Swift and his Printer. . . 72 
 
 Debt and Credit 74 
 
 Deceit of the Bedouin 90 
 
 Discontented Horse 163 
 
 Discontented "Weathercock 86 
 
 Drolleries of Santa Claus 7 
 
 Escape of Arnold 176 
 
 Excursion through Etruria. . . . 203 
 
 Fable of the Chameleon 65 
 
 Fable of the Discontented 
 
 Horse 163 
 
 Fable of the Discontented "Wea- 
 thercock 86 
 
 Fable of the Herons 114 
 
 Fable of tlie Philosophical Cow . 247 
 
 Father's Love 278 
 
 Fearless Boy 80 
 
 Filial Tenderness 281 
 
 First Impressions of Florida. . . 249 
 
 First Saw-Mill 84 
 
 Floridii, First Impressions of.. . 249 
 
 Follies of Great Men 188 
 
 Forgive and Forget 162 
 
 Fossil Shells. 274 
 
 Frogs and Frog Mines 86 
 
 Garibaldi, Giuseppe I'Jfi 
 
 Gazelle 218 
 
 General Avezzana 88 
 
 Ghosts, Adventures with- 226 
 
IV 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Great and Small Minds 225 
 
 Grumble Family 165 
 
 Happiness, Secret of. 210 
 
 Hen Story ". 69 
 
 Herons and the Herrings 114 
 
 Home of Shakspeare 14 
 
 Hoodwinking the Pigeons 22 
 
 Horse, A Cunning 133 
 
 Hour in the Reptile Room 103 
 
 Indians' Bones 6*7 
 
 Ingenuity of Birds 191 
 
 Irving, Washington 39 
 
 Isaac Newton 173 
 
 Island of Malta 71 
 
 Italian Lakes 154 
 
 " It's only in Fun" 63 
 
 " I wait for Thee" 64 
 
 Johnson, Dr. on Liars 13 
 
 Keen Rebuke 190 
 
 King-Hill 26 
 
 Lakes of Italy 154 
 
 Last Musquito 77 
 
 Ledger 32 
 
 Limb, Putting out a 202 
 
 Little Feet, Sounds of. 83 
 
 Little Mary's Vision 267 
 
 Little Scotch Wit 63 
 
 Living without Design 220 
 
 Loiterings about Verona 58 
 
 Love of a Canary Bird 137 
 
 Malta, Island of 71 
 
 Musical Owl 233 
 
 Music from Shore 209 
 
 Narrow Escape 280 
 
 Nature's Words to her Pupil. . 225 
 
 Newton, Sir Isaac ". . . 172 
 
 Novel Animal 12 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Ocean, Wonders of the 23 
 
 Old Abbey of Fowre 116 
 
 Old Man's Welcome 210 
 
 Ostrich Family 180 
 
 Owl, A Musical 233 
 
 Palm Tree, The Date 263 
 
 Perseverance, Scottish 221 
 
 Pet Rabbits 199 
 
 Philosophical Cow— A Fable. . 247 
 
 Pigeons, Hoodwinking of 22 
 
 Pilgrimage to St. Bernard's. . . 107 
 
 Pleading on Both Sides 67 
 
 Pompey's Pillar 151 
 
 Pun, Stammering out a 177 
 
 Puns, A String of 273 
 
 Putting out a Limb 202 
 
 Rabbit^i, The Pet 199 
 
 Ralph Rattleliead 63 
 
 Remarkable Telescope 217 
 
 Reptile Room, An Hour in. . . . 103 
 
 Rich Man and Beggar 41 
 
 Robin Waltz 42 
 
 Runaway 75 
 
 St. Bernard's, a Pilgrimage to.. 107 
 
 Sandals, Ancient 271 
 
 Santa Claus, Drolleries of 7 
 
 Scottish Perseverance 221 
 
 Secret of Happiness 210 
 
 Shakspeare, Home of 14 
 
 Shark and the Turtle 132 
 
 Shells, Fossil 274 
 
 Sir Isaac Newton 172 
 
 Sleep, Curiosities of 178 
 
 Snail and his Shell 270 
 
 Song of Winter 13 
 
 Sounds of Little Feet 33 
 
 Sponge 268 
 
 Stammering out a Pun 177' 
 
 String of Puns 273 
 
 Swift and his Printer 72 
 
 Swiss Bell Ringer 125 
 
INDEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Telescope, a Remarkable 217 
 
 The Date Palm Tree 263 
 
 The Pet Rabbits 199 
 
 Thoughtful Boy 27 
 
 Turtle and the Shark. 132 
 
 Two Flowers 263 
 
 Two Pictures 259 
 
 Unprofitable Customer 131 
 
 Vegetable Instinct 153 
 
 Verona, Loiterings About 68 
 
 Vision of Little Mary 267 
 
 Voice of Contentment 171 
 
 Washington in his Family 232 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Washington Irving 39 
 
 Water BuflFalo 179 
 
 Weathercock, Discontented. . . 85 
 
 Webster on his Farm 28 
 
 Welcome, 0!d Man's 210 
 
 Wellington and the Maniac. . . 130 
 
 Wesley, Anecdote of. 258 
 
 What are Trees made of ?. . . . 279 
 
 What Young Men have done. . 139 
 
 Why is the Sea Salt ? 87 
 
 Winter, Song of. 13 
 
 Wise Maxims 164 
 
 Wit, Little Scotch 63 
 
 Witty Dominican 272 
 
 Wonderful Clock 248 
 
 Wonders of the Ocean 23 
 
VI ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Illustratians u^ (BwMMimMs. 
 
 Portrait of Mrs. IN'irvv^ouLD — Frontispiece. p^ok 
 
 Vignette on Title Page 1 
 
 Pictorial Letter 7 
 
 Old Father Christmas 9 
 
 Monument of Shakspeare 19 
 
 Scene on the Sea Shore 23 
 
 The Sea Convolvulus 24 
 
 The Irish Moss 24 
 
 The Sea Lace 26 
 
 Portrait of Webstkr on his Farm 28 
 
 The Webster Tomb 32 
 
 Portrait of Washington Irving 38 
 
 " It's only in Fun" 54 
 
 An Expensive Joke 56 
 
 " I wait for Thee" 64 
 
 The Island of Malta 70 
 
 Alphonso, the Runaway 75 
 
 Portrait of General Avezzana 82' 
 
 A Fairy Scene 87 
 
 The Serpents in the Zoological Gardens 102 
 
 The Rattle Snake 105 
 
 The Herons and the Herrings 114 
 
 A Scene in Persia 121 
 
 Portrait of Garabaldi 1 27 
 
 The Disconsolate Canary Bird 136 
 
 Pompeys Pillar 1 50 
 
 The Italian Lakes 154 
 
 The Discontented Horse. 163 
 
 The Happy Meeting 1 69 
 
 Portrait of Sir Isaac Newton ^,^*-r5=m=?r**^s-. 172 
 
 The Ostrich .^^ .\.?.^.A.R.Vrr?^ 180 
 
 Thk Pet Rabbits jf..,.., Pf .T??. vrv-cr^ 198 
 
 The Old Man's Welcome J .TJ.N.I"5^^B^If.f . J 211 
 
 The Gazelle ^. ^_^Jt. 218 
 
 Contemplation /ri.^Q_^X.A L4 ^ O^^i^. 224 
 
 PoKTRAiT OF Washington rTTTr T. .. T^..- 232 
 
 The Cow and the Mouse 246 
 
 The Alligator 251 
 
 The Mocking-Bird 253 
 
 The Mocking-Bird's Nest 254 
 
 Flower of the Aloe 257 
 
 Boy at Play 260 
 
 Boy at Study 261 
 
 Thk Date-Palm Tree 265 
 
 Ancii.nt Sandals 271 
 
 Section of an Ammonite ■> 278 
 
 Unolk Frank and his Friends 281 
 

)m.