Front Cover
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Illustrated London reading...
 Vocabulary of words used in this...
 Back Cover

Title: The Illustrated London reading book
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00001847/00001
 Material Information
Title: The Illustrated London reading book
Physical Description: viii, 264 p. : ill. ; 22 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Heaviside, T ( Engraver )
Pearson, G ( George ) ( Engraver )
Sly, Stephen ( Engraver )
Vizetelly, Henry, 1820-1894 ( Engraver )
Illustrated London News (Firm) ( Publisher )
Publisher: Printed and published at the office of The Illustrated London News
Place of Publication: London
Publication Date: 1851
Edition: 3rd ed., with additions and corr.
Subject: Readers   ( lcsh )
Recitations   ( lcsh )
English language -- Vocabularies, glossaries, etc   ( lcsh )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1851   ( rbbin )
Readers -- 1851   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1851
Genre: Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding)   ( rbbin )
Readers   ( rbgenr )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
General Note: Illustrated with engravings by various engravers, including T. Heaviside, G. Pearson, H. Vizetelly, S. Sly and others.
General Note: "Vocabulary of words used in The Illustrated London reading book": p. <249>-264.
Funding: Brittle Books Program
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00001847
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002232001
oclc - 45635221
notis - ALH2389
 Related Items
Other version: Alternate version (PALMM)
PALMM Version

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page i
        Page ii
    Title Page
        Page iii
        Page iv
        Page v
        Page vi
    Table of Contents
        Page vii
        Page viii
    Illustrated London reading book
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
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    Vocabulary of words used in this book
        Page 249
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        Page 251
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    Back Cover
        Page 265
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Full Text




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1a2a3s ALrUr In Is HI2o03s rs caxcan.LO dri Thu UTnaEIrr or 0 CAaIDUn
'mot 14

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198, STRAND.

1851. [Pr w o SM w ,xg.




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;8UP 61(


Pe fltyv-aWAa Thowed. PriceO. S Wa W; -or Pest-free, I.6sd.,
This work is rendered peculiarly. imetlvebythl Eas Ama AXUURWM of the S8PLLING, which
smoothes all diffulties experiase ~ am; and by the PLEASING and ORIGINAL READING
LESSONS, which entice the Learner .adame of his own accord; while the whole is illustrated by
of Objects and Scenes described, oanaing by far the most alluring introduatlot tolearning ever pub-
lished. (144 Pages )
A few copies are Coloused, ~~ledaalttra.

Price 2s., containing 120 beaut(fl Engravings,
Designed for a more advanced class of Students, and consisting of Extracts t ra English Classical au-
thors, from the earliest periods of English literature to the present day# with a copious Introductory
Chapter upon the arts of Elocution and Composition. The latter includes examples of style chosen
from the beauties of the best authors, and points out by similar examples thefaults to be avoided by all
who desire to become, not simply good readers and speakers, bat elegant writrao their nativelanguage

Price Five Shi ngs, a New Editie of

Beautifully bound in cloth, embossed. and tlt eldes < edges. "The BIlutration e from drawings
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route of the Israelites from Egypt to the Land4f Canaan; presenting atoe view the principal cities and
places mentioned in the Old and New 'etament, assisted by one hundredmd iad ightyF s t references.
The Nonpareil Edition, in paper cove, price 2s. 6d.
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of which due notice will be given.
Published at the Office of the ILLeTArao LeMWe NEws, 198, Strand, London. 'TheTrade and Schools
supplied on liberal terms, for Cashebly. Remttances to bema1de.ts Office.

New Edition, with wnamerou Additfons, by JOHNIALRNETT-; dwesyMe 4 aly bound in cloth, with
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Comprising an easy Rudimental Introduction to the Study of that Instrument, and Music in general,
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&c., in all the major and minor keys; and interspersed by relations from study, consisting of Popular
Melodies and Romances, and Selections from the Pianoforte Compositions of the most celebrated Masters;
also a short and easy Introduction to Harmony, or Counterpoint, and a New Vocabulary of Terms. By
J. AUGUSTINE WADE, author of the Dwellings of Fancy," "Songs of the Flowers," "The Two
Houses of Grenada," an Opera; '"The Prophecy," an Oratorio, kc.
London: WalrTrAa and Co., Ave Maria-lane.

To read and speak with elegance and ease,
Are arts polite that never fail to please;
Yet in those arts how very few excel *
Ten thousand men may read-not one read well
Though all mankind are speaks in a sense,
How few can soar to heights of eloquence I
The sweet melodious singer trills her lays,
And listening crowds go, antie in her praise;
But he who reads or. speaks with feeling- tru,
Charms and delights, instructs, and moves us too.-BBowmE.

0 deprive Instruation of the'errors
p.- with which theyoung but too oftm
regard it, and sbrewlowewr pen the
j Ipathways that leads t :; Mledge,
ll tis to confer a benefit -pon all who
are interested in the ease of Ed
cation, either as Teachers or Pupils.
The design of the following pages is not merely
to present to the youthful reader some of the
masterpieces of English literature in prose and
Sverse, arranged and selected in such a manner
as to please as well as instruct, but to render
them more agreeable to the eye and the imagination by Pic-
torial Representations, in illusration of :he subjects. It is hoped
that this design has not been altogether a.m successful, and that
the ILLUSTRATED LOeDON READING BooK will recommend itself
both to old and young ,by the.appropriateness of the selections,
their progressive arrangement, the fidelity of their Illustrations,
and the very moderate price at which it is offered to the public.
It has not been thought necessary to prefix to the present


Volume any instructions in the art of Elocution, or to direct the
accent or intonation of the student by the abundant use of italics
or of large capitals. The principal, if not the only secrets of
good reading are, to speak slowly, to articulate distinctly, to pause
judiciously, and to feel the subject so as, if possible, "to make all
that passed in the mind of the Author to be felt by the Auditor."
Good oral example upon these points is far better for the young
Student than the most elaborate written system,
A series of Educational Works, in other departments of study,
similarly illustrated, and at a price equally small, is in preparation.
Among the earliest to be issued, may be enumerated a Sequel and
Companion to the ILLUSTRATED LONDON READING BOOK, designed
for a more advanced class of Students, and consisting of extracts
from English Classical Authors, from the earliest periods of
English Literature to the present day, with a copious Introductory
Chapter upon the arts of Elocution and Composition. The latter
will include examples of Style chosen from the beauties of the best
Authors, and will also point out by similar examples the Faults to
be avoided by all who desire to become, not simply good Readers
and Speakers, but elegant Writers of their native language.
Amongst the other works of which the series will be composed,
may be mentioned, profusely Illustrated Volumes upon Geogra-
phical, Astronomical, Mathematical, and General Science, as well
as works essential to the proper training of the youthful mind.
January, 1850.



ABnsr, Account of Strata Florida ..
Adam and Eve in Paradise .. ..
Alfred, Anecdote of King .. ..
-- Character o King ..
Angling, Lines on ..
Antioch, The Siege of ..
Artillery Tactics .. ..
Athens, Present Appearance of
Attock, Description of the Fort of .
BACON, Remarks on Lord .
Balloons, Account of ..
Baltic, Battle of the
Beetle, The .. ..
Bell. The Founding of the
Bible, Value of the
Birds, Appropriateness of the Songs of
Bower-Birds, Description of the
Bridges, Account of Tubular Railway
Bunyan's Wife, Anecdote of ..
Bushmen, Account of the ..
CarSAE, Character of Julius
Canada, Intense Cold of
Canary, Account of the ..
Charity ....
Chatterton, Lines by .
Cheerfulness, Description of ..
China, Account of the Great Wall of
Christian Freedom .. .. .
Clarendon, Account of Lord
Cobra di Capello, Description of the
Condors, Account of.
Cruelty to Animals, Wickedness of
Culloden Battle-field, Description of
Cyprus, Description of ..
DAMISH Encampment, Account of a
Deity, Omniscience of the ..
Dons, A Chapter on ..
Dove, Return of the .. ..
EDWARD VI., Character of ..
Elegy in a Country Churchyard
Elizabeth (Queen), at Tilbury Fort
Envy, Wickedness of ..
FAITH'S Guiding Star .. ..
Farewell .. ..
Filial Love ....
Fortitude ....
Fox, Description of the Long-eared ..
Frederick of Prussia and his Page ..
GAMnIza Islanders, Account of .
Gelert .. .. ..
Gentleness, Character of .
Goldsmith, Remarks on the Style of ..
GoHah Aratoo, Description of the .
Greece, Isles of .. ..
- The Shores of .. ..
Gresham, Account of Sir Thomas .
Grief, The First ..
Grouse, Description of the .. ..
HAGAR and Ishmael, Story of ..
Hampden, Account of John .. .
Hercules, The Choice of ..
Holly Bough ..
Hope .. .. .. ..
IGUANA, Description of the .. ..
Industry, Value of .. .. .
Integrity .. .. .. ..
Ivy in the Dungeon .. .. ..
" JACK the Giant Killer," Origin of ..
Jalapa, Description of .. ..
Jewels, Description of the Crown ..
Jopp Account of .. ..

.. .. .. 164
.. .. (MILTo) 138
.. (BAUaTU or HITsror) 18
.. .. .. (H ) 8
.(POPuLAr DELusIOmS) 110
.. 173
.. .. .. .. 106
.. .. .. 188
.. (D'IsRALI) 42
*.... *.. 152
(CAMxEnLL) 171
.. .. .. 27
.. (MAcurY) 28
.. (B K) 16
.. (DR. JENNHR) 76
.. .. 146
.. .. .. .. 32
... .. .. 66
.. (SI F. HD) 150
..... .. 49
.... (PRIOR) 178
... .. .. 195
.. (ADDISON) 92
........ 98
.. .. (PoLLocK) 214
.. .. 191
.. .. .. .. 134
.. (JENYNs) 60
.. ** 10
.. .. .. 86
.. (ADDUoN) 69
.. 39
.... (MACKAY) 133
.. (BouNaT) 77
.. .. .. (GAY) 201
.. (DR. JOHNSOn) 73
.(ELIZA CooK) 64
(BAxTON) 248
.(D. DODD) 229
.... (BLAIR) 52
.... 81
.. 213
.(W. SPENCER) 96
(BLAIR) 197
.. ** ** ** 4
(BYRoN) 108
(BYRON) 187
.. 154
.. .. (M HEMANS) 58
.. 127
.. .. .. 140
.. .. .. .. 226
..(TATLER) 162
(MACKAY) 142
.. (CAMPBELL) 209
.. .. 199
(BLAIR) 50
(DR.DODD) 212
S (CAzLY L) 14
.. 66
.. 218
.. 21



Jordan, Description of the River ..
Jordan's Banks .. ..
Juggernaut, Account of the Car of ..
KAFFIr Chiefs, Account of .. ..
Letter-carrier, Account of ..
Kangaroo, Description of the .. ..
Knowledge, on the Attainment of
LEOPARD, Description of the Black ..
Lighthouse, Description of Hartlepool .. .
Lilies .. .. ..
MANGooU~ s, Description of the ..
Marian .. .. .. ..
Mariners of England .. ..
Martello Towers, Account of .. ..
Mary's (Queen) Bower, at Chatsworth ..
Microscope, Revelations of the ..
Midnight Thoughts .. .. .
Mill-stream, Lines on a ....
Music, Remarks on .. .. .. .
NAPOLDMo, Character of .. ..
Nature and its Lord .
,The Order of .. ..
Naval W- .. ... .
Nests et~tB s, Construction of .
Migara, Account of the Falls of .. ..
ightingale and Glowworm .. ..
OIrvE, Description of the .
Othello's History .. .. ..
Owls, Account of .. ..
-- (Two) and the Spairow .. .. ..
PA L-TEEG Account of the ..
,, Lines on a ..
Parrot, Lines on a .. .. .
Patmos, Description of the Isle of
Paul and Virginia, Supposed Tombs of ..
Pekin, Description of ..
Peter the Hermit Preaching the First Crusade .
Poetry, Rise of, among the Romans .. ..
Polar 3egionsDescription of the
Pmpfi, Aeunt of
Poor, The Afflicted ..
Pyramid Lake, Account of the .
RAILWAY Tunnels, Difficulties of ..
Rainbow. AM d at of a Lanar .
Rattlemakti Aeonunt ofthe .. .. .
Rome, LineS on 0. .. ..
Rookery, Dilogue about a .. .
SAm M, Description of .. ..
Schoolboy's Pilgrimage .
Seasons .. .. .. ..
Shakspere, Remarks on .. ..
SheepDesefption of Thibetan .. ..
Sierra Nevada Description of the ..
Siloam, Account of the Pool of .. ..
Sleep, Henry IV.'s Soliloquy on .. ..
Sloth, Description of the ..
Smyrna, Description of .. .. ..
Stafsa, Description of .. .. .. ..
Stag, The hunted .. .. .. ..
Starling, Story of a .. .. .. ..
St. Bernard, Account of the Dogs of ..
St. Ceaells, Ode to .. .. .. .
Stepping-ons, The .. .. ..
Stony Cross, Description of .. .. .
Stream, the Nameless .. .. .
Study, Remarks on .. ..
Sun Fish, Capture of a .. ..
Sydney, Generosity of Sir Philip .
TAio,J)escription of Mount .
Tapir, Description of the ....
Teegrph, Account of the Electric .
Time, What is it ? .. .. ..
Turkish Customs .. .
Tyre, the Siege of .. .
UNA and the Lion .. .. .. ..
Universe, Grandeur of the .. .. ..
VocAWLARY 0 .. "
WAr..oo, Description of the Field of
Winter Thoughts .. *....
S Writing, On Simplicity in .. .. ..

.. 61
(BYRON) 52

.... 165
(DB. WATTs) 155
h.. s. HzExAs) 44
.. 102
(CAMPs LL) 234
.(Di. MANTELL) 47
(YOUNG) 246
(UsnEB) 244
.. (GRaRAL FoI) 30
.. .. 16
(PoPE) 190
.. 158
(STunB) 54
(COWPEn) 46
S. 74
.. 193
(GAY) 26
.. 100
(SPENCE) 115
(CBAMBE) 245
.. 136
.. 168
(RoOEBR) 33
(EvxENNGS AT lMa) 34
.. 180
.. 148
(SHAxSPEArn) 200
(DRYDRN) 145

(SIRB F. HEAD) 206
(SPBlSmR) 84
(ADDION) 142
.. 24
(THaoMsO) 149
(HouM) 224





S OTHING could be more easy and
agreeable than my condition when I
was first summoned to set out on the
S road to learning, and it was not with-
out letting fall a few ominous tears
that I took the first step. Several
companions of my own age accom-
panied me in the outset, and we
travelled pleasantly together a good
part of the way.
-- i-. We had no sooner entered upon our path,
... than we were accosted by three diminutive
S strangers. These we presently discovered to
be the advance-guard of a Lilliputian army,
which was seen advancing towards us in battle
array. Their forms were singularly gro-
tesque : some were striding across the ith,
others standing with their arms a-kinibo;
some hanging down their heads, others quite
erect; some standing on one leg, others on
Oil two; and one, strange to say, on three;
another had his arms crossed, and one was
remarkably crooked; some were very slender,
and others as broad as they were long. But, notwithstanding this diver-
sity of figure, when they were all marshalled in line of battle, they had a very
orderly and regular appearance. Feeling disconcerted by their numbers, we
were presently for sounding a retreat; but, being urged forward by our guide,
we soon mastered the three who led the van, and this gave us spirit to en-
counter the main army, who were conquered to a man before we left the
field. We had scarcely taken breath after this victory, when, to our no
small dismay, we described a strong reinforcement of the enemy, stationed
on the opposite side. These were exactly equal in number to the former
army, but vastly superior in size and stature ; they were, in fact, a race of
giants, though of the same species with the others, and were capitally ac-
coutred for the onset. Their appearance discouraged us greatly at first,
but we found their strength was not proportioned to their size ; and, having

acquired much skill and courage by the late engagement, we soon suc-
ceeded in subduing them, and passed off the field in triumph. After this
we were perpetually engaged with small bands of the enemy, no longer
extended in line of battle, but in small detachments of two, three, and
four in company. We had some tough work here, and now and then
they were too many for us. Having annoyed us thus for a time, they
began to form themselves into close columns, six or eight abreast; but
we had now attained so much address, that we no longer found them
After continuing this route for a considerable way, the face of the country
suddenly changed, and we began to enter upon a vast succession of snowy
plains, where we were each furnished with a certain light weapon, peculiar
to the country, which we flourished continually, and with which we made
many light strokes, and some desperate ones. The waters hereabouts
were dark and brackish, and the snowy surface of the plain was often de-
faced by them. Probably, we were now on the borders of the Black Sea.
These plains we travelled across and across for many a day.
Upon quitting this district, the country became far more dreary : it ap-
peared nothing but a dry and sterile region, the soil being remarkably hard
and alatey. Here we saw many curious figures, and we soon found that the
inhabitants of this desert were mere ciphers. Sometimes they appeared in
vast numbers, but only to be again suddenly diminished.
Our road, after this, wound through a rugged and hilly country, which
was divided into nine principal parts or districts, each under a different
governor; and these again were reduced into endless subdivisions. Some of
them we were obliged to decline. It was stt a little puzzling to perceive
the intricate ramifications of the paths in these parts. Here the natives
spoke several dialects, which rendered our intercourse with them very per-
plexing. However, it must be confessed that every step we set in this
country was less fatiguing and more interesting. Our course t first layall
up hill; but when we had proceeded to a certain height, the distant country,
which is most richly variegated, opened freely to our view.
I do not mean at present to describe that country, or the different stages
by which we advance through its scenery. SuSee it to say, that the
journey, though always arduous, has become more amndmore pleasant every
:stage; and though, after years of travel and tabour, we are still very far
from the Temple of Learning, yet we have found .on the way more than
.enough to make us thankful to the kindness of the friends who:;rst set us
on the path, and to induce us to go forward courageoury and *rejoicingly
to the end of the journey. JANE TAYLOR.

PEKIN, or Peking, a word which in Chinese means, "Northern Capital,"
has been the chief ity of China ever since the Tartars were expelled, and
is the residence of the Emperor. 'The tract of country on which it stands
is sandy and barren ; but the Grand Canal is well adapted for the purpose
of feeding its vast population with the produce of more fertile provinces
and districts. A ver large portion of the centre of the part of Pekin
called the Northern City is occupied by the Emperor with his palaces and


gardens, which areof the most bautifal description, sad, auds by
their own wal, form what is ~ acdthe "Prohibited .City."

\ ', \

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The Grand Canal, which runs about five hundred miles, without allowing
for windings, across the kingdom of China, is not only the means by which



subsistence is brought to the inhabitants of the imperial city, but is of great
value in conveying the tribute, a large portion of the revenue being paid in
kind. Dr. Davis mentions having observed on it a large junk decorated with
a yellow umbrella, and found on enquiry that it had the honour of bearing
the "Dragon robes," as the Emperor's garments are called. These are
forwarded annually, and are the peculiar tribute of the silk districts. The
banks of the Grand Canal are, in many parts through which it flows,
strongly faced with stone, a precaution very necessary to prevent the danger
of inundations, from which some parts of this country are constantly suf-
fering. The Yellow River so very frequently overflows its banks, and
brings so much peril and calamity to the people, that it has been called
"China's Sorrow;" and the European trade at Canton has been very
heavily taxed for the damage occasioned by it.
The Grand Canal and the Yellow River, in one part of the country, run
within four or five miles of each other, for about fifty miles; and at length
they join or cross each other, and then run in a contrary direction. A great
deal of ceremony is used by the crews of the vessels when they reach this
point, and, amongst other customs, they stock themselves abundantly with
live cocks, destined to be sacrificed on crossing the river. These birds
annoy and trouble the passengers so much by their incessant crowing
on the top of the boats, that they are not much pitied when the time for
their death arrives. The boatmen collect money for their purchase from
the passengers, by sending red paper petitions called pin, begging for aid
to provide them with these and other needful supplies. The difficulties
which the Chinese must have struggled against, with their defective science,
in this junction of the canal and the river, are incalculable; and it is im-
possible to deny them the praise they deserve for so great an exercise of
perseverance and industry.

THE splendid family of parrots includes about one hundred and sixty
species, and, though peculiar to the warmer regions of the world, they are
better known in England than any other foreign bird. From the beauty
of their plumage, the great docility of their manners, and the singular
faculty they possess of imitating the human voice, they are general
favourites, both in the drawingroom of the wealthy and the cottage of
humble life.
The variouespecies differ in size, as well as in appearance and colour.
Some (as the macaws) are larger than the domestic fowl, and some of
the parakeets are not larger than a blackbird or even a sparrow.
The interesting bird of which our Engraving gives a representation was
recently brought alive to this country by the captain of a South-seaman
(the Alert), who obtained it from a Chinese vessel from the Island of
Papua, to whom the captain of the Alert rendered valuable assistance when
in a state of distress. In size this bird is one of the largest of the parrot
tribe, being superior to the great red Mexican Macaw. The whole plumage
is black, glossed with a greenish grey; the head is ornamented with a
large crest of long pendulous feathers, which it erects at pleasure, when
the bird has a most noble appearance; the orbits of the eyes and cheeks
are of a deep rose-colour ; the bill is of great size, and will crack the


hardest fruit stones; but when the kernel is detached, the bird does not
crush and swallow it in large fragments, but scrapes it with the
lower mandible to the finest pulp, thus differing from other parrots in the
mode of taking food. In the form of its tongue it differs also from other
birds of the kind. A French naturalist read a memoir on this organ before
the Academy of Sciences at Paris, in which he aptly compared it, in its


uses, to the trunk of an elephant. In its manners it is gentle and familiar,
and when approached raises a cry which may be compared to a hoarse
croaking. In its gait it resembles the rook, and walks much better than
most of the climbing family.
From the general conformation of the parrots, as well as the arrange-
ment and strength of their toes, they climb very easily, assisting themselves
greatly with their hooked bill, but walk rather awkwardly on the ground,



from the shortness and wide separation of their legs. The bill of the
parrot is moveable in both mandibles, the upper being joined to the skull
by'a membrane which acts like a hinge; while in other birds the upper
beak forms part of the skull. By this curious contrivance they can open
their bills widely, which the hooked form of the beak would not otherwise
allow them to do. The structure of the wings varies greatly in the different'
species: in general they are short, and as their bodies are bulky, they
cannot consequently rise to any great height without difficulty; but when
once they gain a certain distance they fly easily, and some of them with
rapidity. The number of feathers in the tail is always twelve, and these,
both in length and form, are very varied in the different species, some
being arrow or spear-shaped, others straight and square.
In eating, parrots make great use of the feet, which they employ like
hands, holding the food firmly with the claws of one, while they support
themselves on the other: F.rom the hooked shape of their bills, they find
it more convenient to ttum their food in an outward direction, instead of,
like monkeys and other auima s, turninyit"owards their mouths.
The whole tribe are fond of water, washing and bathing themselves
many times during the day in streams and marshy places; and having
shaken the water from their plumage, seem greatly to enjoy spending their
beautiful wings to dry imt4e somn

HE deep affections of the breast,
That Heaven to living things imparts,
SAre not exclusively possessed
By human hearts.

A parrot; fromthe Spanish FMain,
Full young, and early-caged, came o'er,
With bright wings, to the bleak domain
Of Mulla's shore.

To spicy groves, where he had won
His plumage of resplendent hue-
His native fruits, and skies, and sun-
He bade adieu.

j For these he changed the smoke of turf,
A heather land and misty sky;
And turned on rocks and raging surf
His golden eye.

But, petted, in our climate cold,
He lived and chatter'd many a day;
Until, with age, from green abd gold
His wings grew grey.


At lat; when blinA=d-~seemig daumb
He solded, lighu andapokeno more,
A Spanish stranger chanced to come
To Mullds sheuse

He haild the bird inm anish.speech,
The bird in Spanish speech replied:
Flapt round his cagewith joyous screech-
Dropt down and died. CAMPBELL,

8 IB true, saMi Ii correcting the proposition-
the Bastile is not an evil to be despised; but
Strip it of its towers, fill the fosse, unbarricade
the doors, call it simply a confinement, and
suppose it is some tyrant of a distemper, and
not a man which holds you in it, the evil
Svanishes, and you bear the other half without
complaint. I was interrupted in the heyday
of this soliloquy, with a voice which I took
to be of a child, which complained It could
not get out." I looked up and down the
passage, and seeing neither man, woman, or
child, I went out without further attention. In my return back
through the passage, I heard the same words repeateei twice over; and
looking up, I saw it was a starling, hung in a littlkb cage; "I can't get


out, I can't get out," said the starling. I stood looking at the bird;
and to every person who came through the passage, it ran fluttering to


the side towards which they approached it with the same lamentation
of its captivity. I can't get out," said the starling. "Then I will let
you out," said I, "cost what it will;" so I turned about the cage
to get at the door-it was twisted and double twisted so fast with wire there
was no getting it open without pulling the cage to pieces ; I took both hands
to it. The bird flew to the place where I was attempting his deliverance,
and thrusting his head through the trellis, pressed his breast against it,
as if impatient. I fear, poor creature," said I, I cannot set thee at
liberty." No," said the starling; I can't get out, I can't get out," said
the starling.
I vow, I never had my affections more tenderly awakened; nor do I re-
member an incident in my life, where the dissipated spirits to which my
reason had been a bubble were so suddenly called home. Mechanical
as the notes were, yet so true in tune to nature were they chaunted, that
in one moment they overthrew all my systematic reasoning upon the Bas-
tile, and I heavily walked up-stairs unsaying every word I had said in going
down them. STERNE.

-.. UGGERNAUT is the principal
idol worshipped by the Hindoos,
Sand to his temple, which is at
SPooree, are attached no less than
c; four thousand priests and servants;
of these one set are called Pundahs.
In the autumn of the year they
start on a journey through India,
"A preaching in every town and village
the advantages of a pilgrimage to
i Juggernaut, after which they con-
-f duct to Pooree large bodies of
S-.- 'a pilgrims for the Rath Justra, or
SCar Festival, which takes place in
------- May or June. This is the principal
festival, and the number of devo-
tees varies from about 80,000 to
150,000. No European, Mussulman, or low cast Hindoo is admitted into
the temple; we can therefore only speak from report of what goes on
inside. Mr. Acland, in his manners and customs of India, gives us the
following amusing account of this celebrated idol:-
Juggernaut represents the ninth incarnation of Vishnoo, a Hindoo deity,
and consists of a mere block of sacred wood, in the centre of which is said
to be concealed a fragment of the original idol, which was fashioned by
Vishnoo himself. The features and all the external parts are formed of a
mixture of mud and cow-dung, painted. Every morning the idol under-
goes his ablutions; but, as the paint would not stand the washing, the
priests adopt a very ingenious plan-they hold a mirror in front of the
iage and wash his reflection. Every evening he is put to bed; but, as
the idol is very unwieldy, they place the bedstead in front of him, and on


that they lay a small image. Offerings are made to him by pilgrims and
others, of rice, money, jewels, elephants, &c., the Rajah of Knoudah and

the priests being his joint treasurers. On the day of the festival, three
cars, between fifty and sixty feet in height, are brought to the gate of the



temple; thi idols are then taken out by the priests, Juggernaut having
golden arms and diamond eyes for that one days and by means of pulleys
are hauled up and placed in their respective carriages : to these enormous
ropes are attached, and the assembled thousands with loud shouts proceed
to drag the idols to Juggernaut's country-house, a small temple about a
mile distant. This occupies several days, and the idols are then brought
back to their regular stations. The Hindoos believe that every person
who aids in dragging the cars receives pardon for all his past sins; but
the fact that people throw themushveS under the wheels of the cars,
appears to have been an European conjectause arising from the numerous
deaths that occur from accidents at the timt the immense cars are in
These cars have an impObI aKi;. fti tlEir; great size and loftiness :
the wheels are six feet in diameter; but every s ti of the ornament is of
the meanest and most paltry des~ripti, save ouiirthe covering of striped
and spangled broadeoth, the 1 sple dfr mB gog9e aetel of which makes
up in a great measure for other de ienie.1
During the period the pilgrims remain at Poe at r am not allowed
to eatraything butwhat has been offered to the idol~~wtlitrthey have to
buy at a high price from the priests;.

YPRUS, an islsad in tH-r evant, is said
to hves take its name from the number of
Ssift of that name with which it once
aani&ed.. From this tall shrub, the cypress,
itaminst inhabitants made an oil of a very
S diiioes flavour, which wma an article of
g~vntimportance in their commerce, and is
still in great repute among Eastern nations.
It once, too, abounded-with forests of olive
trees; and immense cisterns are still to be
seen, which have beea ereted for the pur-
paso of preser" the oil which the
olive yielded
Near the centre-of the idsand stands Ni-
the mi a and tlt residence of the
er r ., w o Iw oeosies one of the
pdieKe of its ancient seregs. The
1 palaces ame remaaWbe fbr the beauty of
their architects, but ae mdsmed by their Tkiish makes to the
destructive hand of time. Tie churnief St. ia in this place, is built
in the Gothic style, and is said to have lee erected by the Emperor
Justinian. Hiw the Christtia King- of jryprs were formerly crowned;
but it is now cranvterted into a mosque.
The island we formerly divided ito nine kingdoms, andwas famous for
its superb edifices, its elegant temples, and its riches, but can now boast of
nothing but its ruins, which will tell to distant times the greatness from
which it has fallen


The southern coast of this island is exposed to the hot winds from all
directions. During a squall from the north-east, the temperature has been
described as so scorching, that the skin instantly peeled from the lips, a
tendency to sneeze was excited, accompanied with great pain in the eyes,
and chapping of the hands and face. The heats are sometimes so emes-
sive, that persons going out without an umldMkaseria-siam .NtoMr on
coup de soleil, or sun-stroke; and the inhabita~ s e~saSi f the 14er
class, in order to guard against it, wrap up .tieir hemkb i'ararg temkn,
over which in their journies they plait a thick shaMli manytimmef fold.
They seldom, however, venture out of their houms durinfmid-day, and
all journies, even those of caravans, are performed i tlh iht. RiMns
are also rare in the summer season, and long droaglWiive getatiun

and attract numberless columns of locusts, which destroy the plants and
The soil, though very fertile, is rarely cultivated, the Greeks being so
oppressed by their Turkish masters that they dare not cultivate the rich
plains which surround them, as the produce would be taken from them;
and their whole object is to collect together during the year as much grain
as is barely sufficient to pay their tax to the Governor, the omission of
which is often punished by torture or even by death.
The carob, or St. John's breadtree, is plentiful; and the long thick pods
which it produces are exported in considerable quantities to Syria and Egypt.
The succulent pulp which the pod contains is sometimes employed in those
countries instead of sugar ad honey, and is often used in preserving other
fruits. The vine grows here perhaps in greater perfection than in any other
part of the world, and the wine of the island is celebrated all over the



IIIS terrible reptile is found in great
abundance on the continentof America;
and if its instinct induced it to make
use of the dreadful means of destruc-
tion and self-defence which it pos-
sesses, it would become so great a
scourge as to render the parts in
5. which it is found almost uninhabita-
ble: but, except when violently irri-
tated, or for the purpose of self-preser-
v nation, it seldom employs the fatal
Power bestowed upon it. The rattle-
snake inserts its poison in the body
of its victim by means of two long
Si f sharp-pointed teeth or fangs, which
S grow one on each side of the fore-
S part of the upper jaw. The construc-
tion of these teeth is very singular; they are
Shallow for a portion of their length, and in each
tooth is found a narrow silt communicating with
Ithe central hollow; the root of the fang rests
on a kind of bag, containing a certain quantity
of a liquid poison, and when the animal buries
)' Qhis teeth in his prey, a portion of this fluid is
S forced through these openings and lodged at the
-bottom of the wound. Another peculiarity of
these poison teeth is, that when not in use they
turn back, as it were, upon a hinge, and lie flat in the roof of the animal's
The name of rattlesnake is given to it on account of the singular
apparatus with which the extremity of its tail is furnished. This consists
of a series of hollow horn-like substances, placed loosely one behind the
other in such a manner as to produce a kind of rattling noise when the
tail is shaken; and as the animal, whenever it is enraged, always carries its
tail raised up, and produces at the same time a tremulous motion in it,
this provision of nature gives timely notice of its dangerous approach. The
number of pieces of which this rattle is formed points out the age
of the snake, which acquires a fresh piece every year. Some specimens
have been found with as many as from forty to fifty, thus indicating a
great age.
The poison of the Viper consists of a yellowish liquid, secreted in a
glandular structure (situated immediately below the skin on either side of
the head), which is believed to represent the parotid gland of the higher ani-
mals. If a viper be made to bite something solid, so as to avoid its poison,
the following are the appearances under the microscope :-At first nothing
is seen but a parcel of salts nimbly floating in the liquor, but in a very
short time these saline particles shoot out into crystals of incredible tenuity
and sharpness, with something like knots here and there, from which these



crystals seem to proceed, so that the whole texture in a manner represents
a spider's web, though infinitely finer and more minute. These spiculae,

I} I \



I 7 ',I.


or darts, will remain unaltered on the glass for some months. Five or six
grains of this viperine poison, mixed with half an ounce of human blood,



revived in a warm glass, produce no visible effects, either in color or
consistence, nor do portions of this poisoned blood, mixed with acids or
alkalies, exhibit any alterations. When placed on the tongue, the taste is
sharp and acrid, as if the tongue had been struck with aemthing scaling
or burning; but this sensation goes off in two or'threeh M. Ilu s are
only five cases on record of death following the biteof fhed'-iprj :ad it
has been observed that the effeats ae most virualnt ie ni e pupn has
been received on the extremities, particaelyr the fimgC~a~ses, e.which
parts the animal, when irritted (as it were,, y a innate instiaet),always
takes its aim. B.T I UJ D.

PTER various adventures, Thor, accompanied
by Thialfi and Loke, his servants, entered upon
,Giantland, and wandered over plains-wild un-
cultivated places-among stones and trees. At
nightfall they noticed a house; mad.as the door,
which lideed formed one whole Aside of the
hoswe, ows open, they entered. It was a sim-
pehabi tion- e lage hall, altogether empty.
stey atedtIere. Suddenly, in the dead of
: the ia t, iled voiees alarmed them. Thor
grasped his hammer, andttaod tinthe doorway, prepared for 1ght. His
eosrpro ins wir n ran higher amd hrither, in their terror, seeking some
aWrtat in that rude hall: t toniad a: little closet at last, and took
wamge there. N.tier asd orany lIhttle; for lo! in the morning
t turned out that tIe uMae Ahad ide i*ly rthe snoring of a certain
Srmaons, but peaeaBle, o t- iant Bl ymnr, who lay peaceably
near by; uad htis, that 4ULtey k ~or.a house, was merely his
glove wn aside ithee: the doones be glove-wrist; the little closet
they had ded into was the thusbt~ sh! a gS ve! I remark, too, that
it had not fingers, e rs lhmae, but i; 'thatb and the rest undivided
-a moasteientet rustic
Skrygmari fearred c,~raaii.at.mwr, who had
his suspicious, didMnot :ke eas 4f .-_f :Ltermined at night
to put an and to him askieiIpt. iM g' tihamer, abe struck down
into the giant.ie ea~ a ',11tier nd-acks. The
mant merely .awde, Vltkil ?eli, l Again
Thor struck, as so but the giant only murunmd, LW ttni. iu aiof smut" Thor's third
stroke was with both .i4rs adti 4he "iHaulta rhite," I appose), and
it seemed to cut deep iatoUkr~irs n;avg.; uat he mostly hiecked his
snore, and remarked, "Sauh WDast 'Je sjms xsmstuixn Jthis tree, I
At the gate of Utgard--a place sohigh, that yuallU.tto strain your
neck bending back to see the top of it-Skrymir went his way. Thor
and his companions were admitted, and invited to take a share in the
games going on. To Thor, for his part, they handed a drinking-
horn; it was a common feat, they told him, to drink this dry at



one draught. Long and fiercely, three times over, Thor drank, but made
hardly any impression. He was a weak child, they told him; could he lift
that cat he saw there? Small as the feat seemed, Thor, with his whole
godlike strength, could not: he bent up the creature's hak, couldnotaise
its feet off the ground-could at the utmost raise one foot. Why, you are
no WSan," said the Utgard people; "there is an old wommanthat will wrestle
you." Thor, heartily ashamed, seized this haggard old woman, but could
not threw her.
And now, on their quitting Utgard-the chief Joten, escorting them
pditty a little way, said to Thor--"You are beaten, then; yt, be not so
amuch ashamed: there was deception ofappearance in it. Thathor you


tried to drink was the sea; you did make it ebb: but- who uedBltarink
that, the bottomless ? The eat you would have lifted-why, thbt is the
Midgard Snake, the Great World Serpent-which, tail in mouth, girds
and keeps up -the whole created -world. Had you torn that up, the
world must have rushed to iuin. As for the old woman, she was Time,
Old Age, Duration: with her what can wrestle? No man, nor no god,
with her. Gods or men, she prevails over all! And then, those three
strokes you struck-look at these valleys--your three strokes made these."
Thor looked at his attendant Jotun-it was Skrymir. It was, say old
critics, the old chaotic rocky earth in person, and that glove house was
some earth cavern! But Skrymir had vanished. Utgard, with its sky-
high gates, when Thor raised 'his hammer to smite them, had gone to air
--only the giant's voice was heard mocking ; Better come no more to
Jotunheim!" CARLYLE.




WHAT an invaluable blessing it is to have the Bible in our own tongue.
It is not only the oldest, but the best book in the world. Our forefathers
rejoiced when they were first favoured with the opportunity of reading it
for themselves. Infidels may reject, and the licentious may sneer; but no
one who ever wished to take away this foundation-stone, could produce any
other equal to it, on which the structure of a pious mind, a solid hope, a
comfortable state, or wise conduct, could be raised. We are told, that
when Archbishop Cranmer's edition of the Bible was printed in 1538, and
fixed to a desk in all parochial churches, the ardour with which men flocked
to read it was incredible. They who could, procured it; and they who could
not, crowded to read it, or to hear it read in churches. It was common to
see little assemblies of mechanics meeting together for that purpose after
the labour of the day. Many even learned to read in their old age,
that they might have the pleasure of instructing themselves from the
It is recorded of Edward VI., that upon a certain occasion, a paper which
was called for in the council-chamber happened to be out of reach; the
person concerned to produce it took a Bible that lay near, and, standing
upon it, reached down the paper. The King, observing what was done,
ran to the place, and taking the Bible in his hands kissed it, and laid it up
again. This circumstance, though trifling in itself, showed his Majesty's
great reverence for that best of all books; and his example is a striking
reproof to those who suffer their Bibles to lie covered with dust for months
together, or who throw them about as if they were only a piece of useless
lumber. BUCK'S Anecdotes.


HERE'S not a leaf within the bower,
There's not a bird upon the tree,
There's not a dew-drop on the flower,
But bears the impress, Lord, of Thee!

Thy hand the varied leaf designed,
And gave the bird its thrilling tone;
Thy power the dew-drops' tints combined,
,--_' Till like a diamond's blaze they shone!

j_ ; Yes, dew-drops, leaves, and buds, and all-
yThe smallest, like the greatest things-
The sea's vast space, the earth's wide ball,
Alike proclaim thee King of Kings.

SBut man alone to bounteous heaven
Thanksgiving's conscious strains can raise;
To favour'd man alone 'tis given,
To join the angelic choir in praise




THE struggling rill insensibly is grown
Into a brook of loud and stately march,
Cross'd ever and anon by plank or arch;
And for like use, lo! what might seem a zone
Chosen for ornament-stone matched with stone
In studied symmetry, with interspace

For the clear waters to pursue their race
Without restraint. How swiftly have they flown-
Succeeding, still succeeding! Here the child
Puts, when the high-swoll'n flood runs fierce and wild,
His budding courage to the proof; and here
Declining manhood learns to note the sly
And sure encroachments of infirmity-
Thinking how fast time runs-life's end how near.



DURING the retreat of the famous King Alfred at Athelney, in Somerset-
shire, after the defeat of his forces by the Danes, the following circumstance
happened, which shows the extremities to which that great man was
reduced, and gives a striking proof of his pious and benevolent disposition :
-A beggar came to his little castle, and requested alms. His Queen
informed him that they had only one small loaf remaining, which was
insufficient for themselves and their friends, who were gone abroad in quest
of food, though with little hopes of success. But the King replied, Give
the poor Christian the one half of the loaf. He that could feed five
thousand with five loaves and two fishes, can certainly make that half
of the loaf suffice for more than our necessities." Accordingly the
poor man was relieved; and this noble act of charity was soon
recompensed by a providential store of fresh provisions, with which his
people returned.
Sir Philip Sydney, at the battle near Zutphok displayed the most
undaunted courage. He had two horses killed uder him; and, whilst
mounting a third, was wounded by a musket-shot out of the trenches,
which broke the bone of his thigh. He returned abt a mile and a half
on horseback to the camp; and being faint with the lss of blood, and
parched with thirst from the hest of the weather, he caled for drink.
It was presently brought him; but, as he was pattin~ the vessel to his
mouth, a poor wounded soldier, who happened to he cared along at that
instant, looked up to it with wistful eyes. The plant and generous
Sydney took the flagon from his lips, just whe he was going to drink,
and delivered it to the soldier, saying "Thy maaity is greater than
Frederick, King of Prussia, one day rang hs hbe md nobody answered;
on which he opened the door and found his pae fast aeep in an elbow-
chair. He advanced toward him, and was going to awakenhim, when he
perceived a letter hanging out of his pocket. His eariosity prompting
him to know what it was, he took it out and read it. It was a letter faom
the young man's mother, in which she thanked him for having sent her
part of his wages to relieve her in her misery, and finished with teBimnghi
that God would reward him for his dutiful affection. The KI water
having read it, went back softly into his chamber, took a bag full ofcat,
and slipped it with the letter into the page's pocket. Returning to his
chamber, he rang the bell so violently that he awakened the ge, who
instantly made his appearance. "You have had a sowu rleep," sid the
King. The page was at a loss how to excuse hiM ad, putting his
hand into his pocket by chance, to his utter astonishment he there found
a purse of ducats. He took it out, turned pale, and looking at the bag,
burst into tears without being able to utter a single word. "What is
that?" said the King; "what is the matter ?" "Ah, sire!" said
the young man, throwing himself on his knees, somebody seeks my
ruin! I know nothing of this money which I have just found in my
pocket !" "My young friend," replied Frederick, "God often does
great things for us even in "our sleep. Send that to your mother, salute
her on my part, and assure her that I will take eare of both her and
you." Bearies of History.


THE convent of the Great St. Bernard is situated near the top of the
mountain known by that name, near one of the most dangerous passes
of the Alps, between Switzerland and Savoy. In these regions the traveller
is often overtaken by the most severe weather, even after days of cloudless
beauty, when the glaciers glitter in the sunshine, and the pink flowers of
the rhododendron appear as if they were never to be sullied by the tempest.

The hospitable monks., though ter-wenue is scanty, open their doors
to every stranger that parents hnnde To be cold, to be weary, to be

Bult a storm suddenly an es on; the roads are rendered impassable by
drifts of snow; the aXma, bne, which are hqge loosened masses of snow
or ice, are swept into the wdleya, camras trees and crags of rock before
The hospitable mon]4 Gan& thm r ffenue is scanty, open their doors
to every stranger that Its -Kmel To be cold, to be weary, to be
benighted, constitutes the title to their comfortable shelter, their cheer-
Ing meal, and their agreeable converse. But their attention to the dis-



tressed does not end here. They devote themselves to the dangerous task
of searching for those unhappy persons who may have been overtaken by
the sudden storm, and would perish but for their charitable succour. Most
remarkably are they assisted in these truly Christian offices. They have a
breed of noble dogs in their establishment, whose extraordinary sagacity
often enables them to rescue the traveller from destruction. Benumbed
with cold, weary in the search of a lost track, his senses yielding to the
stupefying influence of frost, the unhappy man sinks upon the ground,
and the snow-drift covers him from human sight. It is then that the keen
scent and the exquisite docility of these admirable dogs are called into
action. Though the perishing man lie ten or even twenty feet beneath the
snow, the delicacy of smell with which they can trace him offers a chance
of escape. They scratch away the snow with their feet; they set up a
continued hoarse and solemn bark, which brings the monks and labourers
of the convent to their assistance.
To provide for the chance that the dogs, without human help, may suc-
ceed in discovering the unfortunate traveller, one of them has a flask of
spirits round his neck, to which the fainting man may apply for support;
and another has a cloak to cover him. Their wonderful exertions are often
successful; and even where they fail of restoring him who has perished,
the dogs discover the body, so that it may be secured for the recognition
of friends; and such is the effect of the cold, that the dead features gene-
rally preserve their firmness for the space of two years. One of these
noble creatures was decorated with a medal, in commemoration of his
having saved the lives of twenty-two persons, who, but for his sagacity,
must have perished. Many travellers, who have crossed the pass of St.
Bernard, have seen this dog, and have heard, around the blazing fire of
the monks, the story of his extraordinary career. He perished about the
year 1816, in an attempt to convey a poor traveller to his anxious family.

The Menageries.





JOPPA is the principal sea-port town of Palestine and it is very often men-
tioned in Scripture.
Hiram, King of Tyre, is said to have sent cedars of Lebanon by sea to
Joppa, for the building of Solomon's Temple; and from Joppa the diso-
bedient Jonah embarked, when ordered by God to go and preach to the
people of Nineveh.
It was at Joppa that the apostle Peter lived, for some time, with one
Simon, a tanner, whose house was by the sea-shore; and it was on the flat
roof of this dwelling that he saw the wonderful vision, which taught him
not to call any man common or unclean.

Tabitha or Dorcas, the pious woman who spent all her life in working
for the poor, and in giving alms to those who needed relief, lived in
Joppa; and here it pleased God that she should be taken ill and die,
and her body was laid out in the usual manner before burial, in an upper
chamber of the house where she lived. The apostle Peter, to whom this
pious woman had been well known, was then at Lydda, not far from Joppa,
and the disciples sent to tell him of the heavy loss the Church had met
with in the death of Dorcas, and begged that he would come and comfort
them. The apostle directly left Lydda and went over to Joppa. He was,
by his own desire, taken to the room where the corpse lay, and was much



moved when he saw the tears of the poor women who had been fed and
clothed by the charity of Dorcas, and who were telling each other how
much good she had been the means of doing them.
Peter desired to be left alone with the body, and then he knelt down
and prayed, and, receiving strength from God, he turned to the body and
cried, Tabitha, arise!" She then, like one awaking from sleep, opened
her eyes, and when she saw Peter she sat up. He then took her by the
hand, and she arose and was presented alive to those who, thinking she was
dead, had so lately been mourning for her loss. This was the first miracle
performed by the apostles, and it greatly surprised the people of Joppa,
who began one and all to believe that Peter was really a preacher sent
by God.
The name of Joppa signified beautiful. It was built upon the side of a
rocky mountain, which rises from the sea-shore, and all around it were
lovely gardens, full of vines, figs, and other fruits.

THERE are but three known species of the Tapir, two of which-the Pec-
cary and the Tapir-are natives of South America, the other of Sumatra and
Malacca. Its anatomy is much like that of the rhinoceros, while in general
form the tapir reminds us of the hog. It is a massive and powerful
animal, and its fondness for the water is almost as strong as that displayed
by the hippopotamus. It swims and dives admirably, and will remain sub-
merged for many minutes, rising to the surface for breath, and then again
plunging in. When hunted or wounded, it always, if possible, makes for
the water; and in its nightly wanderings will traverse rivers and lakes in
search of food, or for pleasure. The female is very attentive to her young
one, leading it about on the land, and accustoming it at an early period to
enter the water, where it plunges and plays before its parent, who seems to
act as its instructress, the male taking no share in the work.
The tapir is very common in the warm regions of South America, where
it inhabits the forests, leading a solitary life, and seldom stirring from its
retreat during the day, which it passes in a state of tranquil slumber.
During the night, its season of activity, it wanders forth in search of food,
which consists of water-melons, gourds, young shoots of brushwood, &c.;
but, like the hog, it is not very particular in its diet. Its senses of smell
and hearing are extremely acute, and serve to give timely notice of the
approach of enemies. Defended by its tough thick hide, it is capable
of forcing its way through the thick underwood in any direction it pleases :
when thus driving onwards, it carries its head low, and, as it were, ploughs
its course.
The most formidable enemy of this animal, if we except man, is the
jaguar; and it is asserted that when that tiger of the American forest
throws itself upon the tapir, the latter rushes through the most dense and
tangled underwood, bruising its enemy, and generally succeeds in dislodg-
ing him.
The snout of the tapir greatly reminds one of the trunk of the elephant;
for although it is not so long, it is very flexible, and the animal makes
excellent use of it as a crook to draw down twigs to the mouth, or grasp



fruit or bunches of herbage: it has nostrils at the extremity, but there
is no finger-like appendage.
In its disposition the tapir is peaceful and quiet, and, unless hard passed,
never attempts to attack either man or beast; when, however, the hunter's
dogs surround it, it defends itself very vigorously with its teeth, i.nting
terrible wounds, and uttering a cry like a shrill kind of whistle, which is i
strange contrast with the massive bulk of the animal.

The Indian tapir greatly resembles its American relative; it feeds on
vegetables, and is very partial to the sugar-cane. It is larger than the
American, and the snout is longer and more like the trunk of the elephant.
The most striking difference, however, between the eastern and western
animal is in colour. Instead of being the uniform dusky-by Uint of the
American, the Indian is strangely particoloured. The head, neck, forelimba,
and fore-quarters are quite black; the body then becomes suddenly white
or greyish-white, and so continues to about half-way over.the hind-quarters,
when the black again commences abruptly, spreading over the legs. The



animal, in fact, looks just as if it were covered round the body with a white
Though the flesh of both the Indian and American tapir is dry and dis-
agreeable as an article of food, still the animal might be domesticated with
advantage, and employed as a beast of burthen, its docility and great strength
being strong recommendations.

WATERLOO is a considerable village of Belgium, containing about 1600
inhabitants; and the Field of Waterloo, so celebrated as the scene of the
battle between two of the greatest generals who ever lived, is about two
miles from it. It was very far from a strong position to be chosen for this
purpose, but, no doubt, was the best the country afforded. A gently
rising ground, not steep enough in any part to prevent a rush of infantry
at double-quick time, except in the dell on the left of the road, near the
farm of La Haye Sainte; and along the crest of the hill a scrubby hedge
and low bank fencing a narrow country road. This was all, except La
Haye Sainte and Hougoumont. This chdteau, or country-seat, one of
those continental residences which unite in them something of the nature
of a castle and a farm-house, was the residence of a Belgic gentleman. It
stands on a little eminence near the main road leading from Brussels to
Nivelles. The buildings consisted of an old tower and a chapel, and a
number of offices, partly surrounded by a farm-yard. The garden was
enclosed by a high and strong wall; round the garden was a wood
or orchard, which was enclosed by a thick hedge, concealing the wall.
The position of the place was deemed so important by the Duke of
Wellington, that he took possession of the Chateau of Goumont, as
it was called, on the 17th of June, and the troops were soon busily pre-
paring for the approaching contest, by perforating the walls, making
loop-holes for the fire of the musketry, and erecting scaffolding for the
purpose of firing from the top.
The importance of this place was also so well appreciated by Bonaparte,
that the battle of the 18th began by his attacking Hougoumont. This
name, which was bestowed upon it by the mistake of our great commander,
has quite superseded the real one of Ch&teau Goumont. The ruins are
among the most interesting of all the points connected with this memorable
place, for the struggle there was perhaps the fiercest. The battered walls,
the dismantled and fire-stained chapel, which remained standing through
all the attack, still may be seen among the wreck of its once beautiful
gaden; while huge blackened beams, which have fallen upon the crumb-
ng heaps of stone and plaster, are lying in all directions.
On the field of battle are two interesting monuments: one, to the
memory of the Hon. Sir Alexander Gordon, brother to the Earl of Aber-
deen, who there terminated a short but glorious career, at the age of
twenty-nine, and "fell in the blaze of his fame;" the other, to some
brave officers of the German Legion, who likewise died under circumstances
of peculiar distinction. There is also, on an enormous mound, a colossal
lion of bronze, erected by the Belgians to the honour of the Prince of
Orange, who was wounded at, or near, to the spot.
Against the walls of the church of the village of Waterloo are many


beautiful marble tablets, with the most affecting inscriptions, records of
men of various countries, who expired on that solemn and memorable

occasion in supporting a common cause. Many of these brave men were
buried in a cemetery at a short distance from the village.




S WO formal Owls together sat,
Conferring thus in solemn chat:
How is the modern taste de-
Where's the respect to wisdom paid?
Our worth the Grecian sages knew;
i They gave our sires the honour due:
They weigh'd the dignity of fowls,
SAnd pry'd into the depth of Owls.
%u- Athens, the seat ofleaned fame,
--si With gen'ral vie aevered our name;
On merit title was conferr'd,
And all adored th' Athenian bird."
"Brother, you reason well," replies
The solemn mate, with half-shut eyes:
"Right: Athens was the seat of learning,
And truly wisdom is discerning.
Besides, on Pallas' helm we sit,
The type and ornament of wit:
But now, alas! we're quite neglected,
And a pert Sparrow's more respected."
A Sparrow, who was lodged beside,
O'erhears them sooth each other's pride,

And thus he nimbly vents his heat:
Who meets a fool must find conceit.
I grant you were at Athens graced,
And on Minerva's helm were placed;
But ev'ry bird that wings the sky,
Except an Owl, can tel you why.
From hence they taught their schools to know
How false we judge by outward show;
That we should never looks esteem,
Since fools as wise as you might seem.
Would you contempt and scorn avoid,
Let your vain-glory be destroyed :
Humble your arrogance of thought,
Pursue the ways by Nature taught:
So shall you find delicious fare,
And grateful farmers praise your care;
So shall sleek mice your chase reward,
And no keen cat find more regard." GAY.

SEE the beetle that crawls in your way,
And runs to escape from your feet;
His house is a hole in the clay,
And the bright morning dew is his meat.

But if you more closely behold
This insect you think is so mean,
You will find him all spangled with gold,
And shining with crimson and green.

Tho' the peacock's bright plumage we prize,
As he spreads out his tail to the sun,
The beetle we should not despise,
Nor over him carelessly run.

They both the same Maker declare--
They both the same wisdom display,
The same beauties in common they share--
Both are equally happy and gay.

And remember that while you would fear
The beautiful peacock to kill,
You would tread on the poor beetle here,
And think you were doing no ill.

But though 'tis so humble, be sure,
As mangled and bleeding it lies,
A pain as severe 'twill endure,
. As if 'twere a giant that dies.



ARK I how the furnace pants and roars,
Hark how the molten metal pours,
As, bursting from its iron doors,
It glitters in the sun.
Now through the ready mould it flows,
Seething and hissing as it goes,
And filling every crevice up,
As the red vintage fills the cup-
Hurra the work is done !

Unswathe him now. Take off each stay
That binds him to his couch of clay,
And let him struggle into day!
Let chain and pulley run,
With yielding crank and steady rope,
Until he rise from rim to cope,
In rounded beauty, ribb'd in strength,
Without a flaw in all his length-
Hurra the work is done !

The clapper on his giant side
Shall ring no peal for blushing bride,
For birth, or death, or new-year tide,
Or festival begun!
A nation's joy alone shall be
The signal for his revelry;
And for a nation's woes alone
His melancholy tongue shall moan-
Hurra the work is done !

Borne on the gale, deep-toned and clear,
His long, loud summons shall we hear,
When statesmen to their country dear
Their mortal race have run;
When mighty Monarchs yield their breath,
And patriots sleep the sleep of death,
Then shall he raise his voice of gloom,
And peal a requiem o'er their tomb-
Hurra the work is done !

Should foemen lift their haughty hand,
And dare invade us where we stand,
Fast by the altars of our land
We'll gather every one;
And he shall ring the loud alarm,
To call the multitudes to arm,
From distant field and forest brown,
And teeming alleys of the town-
Hurra the work is done !



And as the solemn boom they hear,
Old men shall grasp the idle spear,
Laid by to rust for many a year,
And to the struggle run:
Young men shall leave their toils or books,
Or turn to swords their pruning-hooks;
And maids have sweetest smiles for those
Who battle with their country's foes-
Hurra the work is done !

And when the cannon's iron throat
Shall bear the news to dells remote,
And trumpet blast resound the note-
That victory is won;


When down the wind the banner drops,
And bonfires blaze on mountain tops,
Iis sides shall glow with fierce delight,
And ring glad peals from morn to night-
Hurra the work is done !

But of such themes forbear to tell-
May never War awake this bell
To sound the tocsin or the knell-
Hush'd be the alarum gun.
Sheath'd be the sword and may his voice



But call the nations to rejoice
That War his tatter'd flag has furl'd,
And vanished from a wiser world--
Hurra the work is done !

Still may he ring when struggles cease-
Still may he ring for joy's increase,
For progress in the arts of peace,
And friendly trophies won;
When rival nations join their hands,
When plenty crowns the happy lands,
When Knowledge gives new blessings birth,
And Freedom reigns o'er all the earth-
Hurra! the work is done MACKAY.

WITH his passions, and in spite of his errors, Napoleon was, taking him
all in all, the greatest warrior of modern times. He carried into battle a
stoical courage, a profoundly calculated tenacity, a mind fertile in sudden
inspirations, which, by unlooked-for resources, disconcerted the plans of
his enemy. Let us beware of attributing a long series of success to the
organic power of the masses which he set in motion. The most experienced
eye could scarcely discover in them any thing but elements of disorder.
Still less, let it be said, that he was a successful captain because he was a
mighty Monarch. Of all his campaigns, the most memorable are the
campaign of the Adige, where the general of yesterday, commanding an
army by no means numerous, and at first badly appointed, placed himself
at once above Turenne, and on a level with Frederick; and the campaign
in France in 1814, when, reduced to a handful of harassed troops, he
combated a force of ten times their number. The last flashes of Imperial
ligtning still damled the eyes of our enemies; and it was a fine sight to
se tha bouds of the old lion, tracked, hunted down, beset-presenting a
Kely ictre of the days of his youth, when his powers developed them-
. selvei the field ofcarnage.
SNapoleon possessed, in an eminent degree, the faculties requisite for the
profession of arms; temperate and robust; watching and sleeping at
pleasure; appearing unawares where he was least expected: he did not
disregard details, to which important results are sometimes attached. The
hand which had just traced rules for the government of many millions of
men, would frequently rectify an incorrect statement of the situation of a
regiment, or write down whence two hundred conscripts were to be ob-
tained, and from what magazine their shoes were to be taken. A patient,
and an easy interlocutor, he was a home questioner, and he could listen-
a rare talent in the grandees of the earth. He carried with him into battle
a cool and impassable courage. Never was mind so deeply meditative,
more fertile in rapid and sudden illuminations. On becoming Emperor he
ceased not to be the soldier. If his activity decreased with the progress of
age, that was owing to the decrease of his physical powers. In games of
mingled calculation and hazard, the greater the advantages which a man



seeks to obtain the greater risks he must run. It is presely this that
renders the deceitful science of conquerors so calamitus to nation.

Napoleon, though naturally adventurous, was net client in con-
Sistecy or method; aad he wasted neither his sldier nor his treasures
where the authority of his name sufced. What he could obtain by
negotiations or by artifice, he required not by force of arm The sword,
although drawn from the scabbard, was not stained with blood unless it



was impossible to attain the end in view by a manoeuvre. Always ready
to fight, he chose habitually the occasion and the ground: out of fifty
battles which he fought, he was the assailant in at least forty. Other
generals have equalled him in the art of disposing troops on the ground;
some have given battle as well as he did-we could mention several who
have received it better; but in the manner of directing an offensive cam-
paign he has surpassed all. The wars in Spain and Russia prove nothing
in disparagement of his genius. It is not by the rules of Montecuculi and
Turenne, manoeuvring on the Renchen, that we ought to judge of such
enterprises: the first warred to such or such winter quarters; the other to
subdue the world. It frequently behoved him not merely to gain a battle,
but to gain it in such a manner as to astound Europe and to produce
gigantic results. Thus political views were incessantly interfering
with the strategic genius; and to appreciate him properly, we must not
confine ourselves within the limits of the art of war. This art is not
composed exclusively of technical details; it has also its philosophy.
To find in this elevated region a rival of Napoleon, we must go back to
the times when the feudal institutions had not yet broken the unity of the
ancient nations. The founders of religion alone have exercised over their
disciples an authority comparable with that which made him the absolute
master of his army. This moral power became fatal to him, because he
strove to avail himself of it even against the ascendancy of material force,
and because it led him to despise positive rules, the long violation of which
will not remain unpunished. When pride was bringing Napoleon towards
his fall, he happened to say, France has more need of me than I have of
France." He spoke the truth: but why had he become necessary?
Because he had committed the destiny of France to the chances of an
interminable war: because, in spite of the resources of his genius,
that war, rendered daily more hazardous by his staking the whole of
his force and by the boldness of his movements, risked, in every cam-
paign, in every battle, the fruits of twenty years of triumph: because his
government was so modelled that with him every thing must be swept
away, and that a reaction, proportioned to the violence of the action, must
burst forth at once both within and without. But Napoleon saw, without
illusion, to the bottom of things. The nation, wholly occupied in prose-
cuting the designs of its chief, had previously not had time to form any
plans for itself. The day on which it should have ceased to be stunned by
the din of arms, it would have called itself to account for its servile
obedience. It is better, thought he, for an absolute prince to fight foreign
armies than to have to struggle against the energy of the citizens.
Despotism had been organized for making war; war was continued to
uphold despotism. The die was cast-France must either conquer Europe,
or Europe subdue France. Napoleon fell-he fell, because with the men
of the mneteenth century he attempted the work of an Attila and a Genghis
Khan; because he gave the reins to an imagination directly contrary to
the spirit of his age; with which, nevertheless, his reason was perfectly
acquainted; because he would not pause on the day when he felt con-
scious of his inability to succeed. Nature has fixed a boundary, beyond
which extravagant enterprises cannot be carried with prudence. This
boundary the Emperor reached in Spain, and overleaped in Russia. Had he
then escaped destruction, his inflexible presumption would have caused him
to find elsewhere a Bayleu and a Moscow. GENERAL FOY.






I AM in Rome! Oft as the morning ray
Visits these eyes, waking at once, I cry,
Whence this excess of joy? What has befallen me?
And from within a thrilling voice replies-
Thou art in Rome A thousand busy thoughts
Rush on my mind-a thousand images;
And I spring up as'girt to run a race!

Thou art in Rome the city that so long
Reign'd absolute-the mistress of the world!
The mighty vision that the Prophet saw
And trembled; that from nothing, from the least,
The lowliest village (what, but here and there
A reed-roof'd cabin by a river side ?)
Grew into everything; and, year by year,
Patiently, fearlessly working her way
O'er brook and field, o'er continent and sea;
Not like the merchant with his merchandise,
Or traveller with staff and scrip exploring;
But hand to hand and foot to foot, through hosts,
Through nations numberless in battle array,


Each behind each; each, when the other fell,
Up, and in arms-at length subdued them all.
Thou art in Rome the city where the Gauls,
Entering at sun-rise through her open gates,
And through her streets silent and desolate
Marching to slay, thought they saw gods, not men;
The city, that by temperance, fortitude,
And love of glory tower'd above the clouds,
Then fell-but, falling, kept the highest seat,
And in her loveliness, her pomp of woe,
Where now she dwells, withdrawn into the wild,
Still o'er the mind maintains, from age to age,
Its empire undiminish'd. There, as though
Grandeur attracted grandeur, are beheld
All things that strike, ennoble; from the depths
Of Egypt, from the classic fields of Greece-
Her groves, her temples-all things that inspire
Wonder, delight! Who would not say the fors,
Most perfect meost divine, ihd by consent
Plck"d thi& to abide eternally
Wiahu dwme dit chambers whee they wdhw
Ix i afy eaeourse t OmSX&


S that a rookery, papa?
Mr. S. It is. Do you hear what a cawing the birds
make ?
F. Yes; and I see them hopping about among the
boughs. Pray, are not rooks the same with crows?
Mr. S. They are a species of crow. But they differ from the carrion
crow and raven, in not feeding upon dead flesh, but upon corn and other
seeds and grass, though, indeed, they pick up beetles and other insects
and worms. See what a number of them have alighted on yonder ploughed
field, almost blackening it over. They are searching for grubs and worms.
The men in the field do not molest them, for they do a great deal of



-irw de1 t sying grabs, which, if afed to gsew to winged inects,
woui md j the trees and plants.
Do a i mrks live inrookeries ?
Mr. S. It is their matre to amciate together, and they build i
mmbens ea the mae, or adjoiiag trees. They hve no objectim to the
ighbourood o matn, but readily take to a plantation ta tree, though
it be eoe to a hose; and this a commonly called a roery. They will
even fi their habitations on trees in the midst of towns.
F. I thiek a rookery is a sort of town itself.
Mr. &. It is--a village in the air, peopled with ammouw inhabitants;
and thingg can be more
amusing than to view them all
in motion, flying to and fro,
and buted in their several oc-
cupations. The spring is their
busiest time. Early in the
year they begin to repair their
nests, or build new ones.
P. Do they all work to-
gether, or every one for itself?
Mr. S. Each pair, after they
have coupled, builds its own
nest; and, instead of helping,
they are very apt to steal the
materials from one another. If CROW.
both birds go out at once in search of sticks, they often find at their
return the work all destroyed, and te meterials carried off. However, I
have met with a story which shows th~t aty re not without some sense
of the criminality of thieving. There was n a rookery a lazy pair of
rooks, who never went out to get sticks for themselves, but made a prac-
tice of watching when their neighbours were abroad, and helping them-
selves from their nests. They had served most of the community in this
manner, and by these means had just finished their own nest; when all
the other rooks, in a rage, fell upon them at once, pulled -their nest in
pieces, beat them soundly, and drove them from their society.
F. But why do they live together, if they do mot help one another ?
Mr. S. They probably receive pleasure from the company of their own
kind, as men and various other creatures do. Then, though they do not
assist one another in building, they are mutually serviceable in many ways.
If a large bird of prey hovers about a rookery for the purpose of carrying
away the young ones, they all unite to drive him away. And hen they
are feeding in a flock, several are placed as sentinels upon the trees all round,
to give the alarm if any danger approaches.
F. Do rooks always keep to the same trees ?
Mr. S. Yes; they are much attiehed to them, and when the trees
happen to be cut down, they seem greatly distressed, and keep hovering
about them as they are fim, and will scarcely desert them when they
lie on the ground.
F. I suppose they feel s we sho ld if our town was burned down, or
overthrown by an earthquake.
Mr. S. No doubt. The societies of animals greatly resemble those of



men; and that of rooks is like those of men in the savage state, such as
the communities of the North American Indians. It is a sort of league
for mutual aid and defence, but in which every one is left to do as he
pleases, without any obligation to employ himself for the whole body.
Others unite in a manner resembling more civilised societies of men. This
is the case with the beavers. They perform great public works by the
united efforts of the whole community-such as damming up streams and
constructing mounds for their habitations. As these are works of great
art and labour, some of them probably act under the direction of others,
and are compelled to work, whether they will or not. Many curious stories
are told to this purpose by those who have observed them in their remotest
haunts, where they exercise their full sagacity.
F. But are they all true ?
Mr. S. That is more than I can answer for; yet what we certainly know
of the economy of bees may justify us in believing extraordinary things of
the sagacity of animals. The society of bees goes further than that of
beavers, and in some respects beyond most among men themselves. They
not only inhabit a common dwelling, and perform great works in common,
but they lay up a store of provision, which is the property of the whole
community, and is not used except at certain seasons and under certain re-
gulations. A bee-hive is a true image of a commonwealth, where no
member acts for himself alone, but for the whole body.
Evenings at Home.




THESE beautiful trees may be ranked among the noblest specimens of
vegetation; and their tall, slender, unbranched stems, crowned by elegant
feathery foliage, composed of a cluster of gigantic leaves, render them,
although of several varieties, different in appearance from all other trees.
In some kinds of palm the stem is irregularly thick; in others, slender as
a reed. It is scaly in one species, and prickly in another. In the Palma
real, in Cuba, the stem swells out like a spindle in the middle. At the
summit of these stems, which in some cases attain an altitude of upwards
of 180 feet, a crown of leaves, either feathery or fan-shaped (for there is
not a great variety in their general form), spreads out on all sides, the
leaves being frequently from twelve to fifteen feet in length. In some
species the foliage is of a dark green and shining surface, like that of a

7_. ___ _.-7

laurel or holly; in others, silvery on the under-side, as in the willow; and
there is one species of palm with a fan-shaped leaf, adorned with concen-
tric blue and yellow rings, like the "eyes" of a peacock's tail.
The flowers of most of the palms are as beautiful as the trees. Those
of the Palma real are of a brilliant white, rendering them visible from a
great distance; but, generally, the blossoms are of a pale yellow. To
these succeed very different forms of fruit: in one species it consists of a
cluster of egg-shaped berries, sometimes seventy or eighty in number, of
a brilliant purple and gold colour, which form a wholesome food.
South America contains the finest specimens, as well as the most
numerous varieties of palm: in Asia the-tree is not very common; and of
the African palms but little is yet known, with the exception of the date
palm, the most important to man of the whole tribe, though far less beau-
tiful than the other species.



T waved not through an Eastern sky,
Beside a fount of Araby;
It was not fann'd by Southern breeze
In some green isle of Indian seas;
Nor did its graceful shadow sleep
O'er stream of Afric, lone and deep.
But fair the exiled Palm-tree grew,
Through the laburnum's dropping gold
Rose the light shaft of Orient mould;
And Europe's violets, faintly sweet,
Purpled the moss-beds at its feet.
Strange looked it there!-the willow
Where silv'ry waters near it gleam'd;
The lime-bough lured the honey-bee
To murmur by the Desert's tree,
And showers of snowy roses made
A lustre in its fan-like shade.

STlhere came an eve of festal hours-
Rich music fil'd that garden's bowers;
SLamps, that from flow'ring branches hung,
On sparks of dew soft colours flung;
And bright forms glanced-a fairy show,
Under the blossoms to and fro.
But one, a lone one, 'midst the throng,
Seem'd reekis all of dance or song:
He wa a y ouh of dusky mien,
Whenra the aIdian sun had been;
Of emated brow, and long blck hair-
Atanger, like the Pal-tvee, thexe.
And dsowly, dly, mored his plumes,
CSiAteri -edrt the leafy glooms:
Ie pow1 the gpe N ohves by,
Nor won the & u st flowers his eye;
But whi to that ale Palm he came,
Then shot a aptare through his frame.
To him, to him its rustling spoke ;
The silence of his soul it broke.
It whispered of his own bright isle,
That lit the ocean with a smile.
Aye to his ear that native tone
Had something of the sea-wave's moan.
His mother's cabin-home, that lay
Where feathery cocoos fringe the bay;
The dashing of his brethren's oar,
The conch-noteheard along the shore-
All through his wak'ning bosom swept:
He clasp'd his country's tree, and wept.
Oh! scorn himnot. The strength whereby
The patriot girds himself to die;
The unconquerable power which fls
The bemsan battlig on his hills:
These have oe fountain deep and dlear,
The same whence gush'd that childlike tear --Mas. Haxis.,


ployse in draw~ sleges laden with
Y t mood, and r ar ticles, and
m tir strength and docility are
eof ~ omicerable importance. The
Courage, devotion, and skill of this
noble animal in the rescue of persons
fiam dwming is well known; and on
-te b"na, of the S e, at Paris,
tlbae 4u1lities have beea to a
inguahr purpose. Ten i
S akd dogs are there trained o at as
7 mata to the Humane Society; and
the rapidity with which they cross
and re-cross the river, and come and
Sgo, at the voice of their trainer, is
described as being most interesting to witness.
Handsome kennels have been erected for their
i dwiigs on the bridges.

TamMa is a )Weed at very hand d ogs caBid by this name, of a white
eq thicklyspt-
teiwith black:'itis
dasFed among the
boMds. This pe-
dies is Mid to have
Mbeen l ght from
India, and is not re-
markable for either
fine scent or intel-
ligence. The Dal-
matian Dog is gene-
rally kept in our
country as an ap-
pendage to the car-
riage, and is bred
up in the stable
with the horses; it
consequently sel-
dom receives that
kind -of training a
which is calculatedto call forth any good quamlies it may p .

TH Terrier is a valuable dog in the houseand farm, keeping both domains


free from intruders, either
in the shape of thieves
or vermin. The mischief
effected by rats is almost
incredible; it has been
said that, in some cases,
in the article of corn,
these little animals con-
sume a quantity in food
equal in value to the rent
of the farm. Here the
terrier is a most valuable
assistant, in helping the
farmer to rid himself of
his enemies. The Scotch
Terrier is very common in

the greater part of
the Western Islands
of Scotland, and
some of the species
are greatly admired.
Her Majesty Queen
Victoria possesses
one from Islay-a
faithful, affectionate
creature, yet with all
the spirit and deter-
mination that belong to his breed.


THE modern smooth-haired
Greyhound of England is a
very elegant dog, not surpassed
in speed and endurance by
that of any other country.
SHunting the deer with a kind
of greyhound of a larger size
was formerly a favourite di-
version; and Queen Elizabeth
was gratified by seeing, on
one occasion, from a turret,
sixteen deer pulled down by
greyhounds upon the lawn at
EAuD oF TUE BULL-DOq Cowdry Park, in Sussex.


THE dog we now
call the Stag-
hound appears to
answer better than
any other to the
description given
to us of the old
English Hound,
which was so much
valued when the
country was less
enclosed, and the
numerous and ex-
tensive forests
were the harbours
of the wild deer.
This hound, with
the harrier, were
for many centuries

INSTINCT and education combine to fit this dog for our service: the pointer
will act without any great degree of instruction, and the setter will crouch;
but the Sheep Dog, especially if he has the example of an older one, will,
almost without the teach-
ing of his master, become
everything he could wish,
and be obedient to every
order, even to the slightest
motion of the hand. If the
shepherd's dog be but with
his master, he appears to
be perfectly content, rarely
mingling with his kind,
and generally shunning .
the advances of strangers ;
but the moment duty calls,
his eye brightens, he
springs up with eager-
ness, and exhibits a saga-
city, fidelity, and devotion
rarely equalled even by

OF all dogs, none surpass in obstinacy and ferocity the Bull-dog. The
head is broad and thick, the lower jaw generally projects so that the under

teeth advance beyond the upper, the eyes are scowling, and the whole ex-
pression calculated to inspire terror. It is remarkable for the pertinacity
with which it maintains its hold of any animal it may have seized, and is,
therefore, much used in the hrbarbas practice of bull-baiting, so common
in some countries, and Ibut aely abolilsed in England.

N those prescient views by which the genius of Lord
Bacon has often anticipated the institutions and the
discoveries of succeeding times, there was one import-
ant object which even his foresight does not appear to
have contemplated. Lord Bacon did not foresee that
the E4inish language would one day be capable of
embalming al that philosophy can discover, or poetry
Scan invent; tiat his country would at length possess
a national literature of its own, and that it would
exult in icl compositions, which might be appreciated with the finest
models of stiqity. His taste was far unequal to his invention. So
little di be esm the language of his country, that his favourite works
were t Enga in Latin; and he was anxious to have what he had written
in VM_- pmerved in that universall language which may last as long
as booel t."
It wmd hve surprised Bacon to have been told that the most learned
men in he hve studied English authors to learn to think and to write.
Our philosoer was surely somewhat mortified, when, in his dedication of
the Essays, he observed, that, "Of all my other works, my Essays have
been most current; for that, as it seems, they come home to men's busi-
ness and bosoms." It is too much to hope to find in a vast and profound
inventor, a writer also who bestows immortality on his language. The
English is the only object, in his great survey of art and of nature,
whih owe nothing of its ex ece to the genins of Bacon.


He had reason, indeed, to be mortified at the reception of his philoso-
phical works; and Dr. Rowley, even, some years after the death of his
illustrious master, had occasion to observe, "His fame is greater, and
sounds louder in foreign parts abroad than at home in his own nation ;
thereby verifying that Divine sentence, 'A Prophet is not without honour,
save in his own country and in
his own house,'" Even the
men of genius, who ought to
have comprehended this new
source of knowledge thus
opened to them, reluctantly
entered into it: so repugnant
are we to give up ancient
errors, which time and habit
have made a part of our-
selves. D'IsRAELI. / N









FLOWERS! when the Saviour's calm,
benignant eye
Fell on your gentle beauty; when from
That heavenly lesson for all hearts he
Eternal, universal as the sky;
Then in the bosom of your purity
A voice He set, as in a temple shrine,
That Life's quick travellers ne'er might
pass you by
Unwarn'd of that sweet oracle divine.
And though too oft its low, celestial sound
By the harsh notes of work-day care is
And the loud steps of vain, unlist'ning
Yet the great lesson hath no tone of power,
Mightier to reach the soul in thought's
hush'd hour,
Than yours, meek lilies, chosen thus,


SHE earliest and one
of the most fatal
eruptions of Mount
Vesuvius that is men-
tioned in history took
place in the year 79,
during the reign of
the Emperor Titus.
All Campagna was
filled with consterna-
tion, and the country
was overwhelmedwith
devastation in every
direction; towns, villages, palaces, and their in-
S habitants were consumed by molten lava, and
hidden from the sight by showers of volcanic
) stones, cinders, and ashes.
Pompeii had suffered severely from an earthquake six-
teen years before, but had been rebuilt and adorned with
N many a stately building, particularly a magnificent theatre,
where thousands were assembled to see the gladiators when
this tremendous visitation burst upon the devoted city, and


buried it to a considerable depth with the fiery materials thrown from
the crater. "Day was turned to night," says a classic author, "and
night into darkness; an inexpressible quantity of dust and ashes was
poured out, deluging land, sea, and air, and burying two entire cities,
Pompeii and Herculaneum, whilst the people were sitting in the theatre."

-I -

Many parts of Pompeii have, at various times, been excavated, so as
to allow visitors to examine the houses and streets; and in February, 1846,
the house of the Hunter was finally cleared, as it appears in the Engraving.



This is an interesting dwelling, and was very likely the residence of a man
of wealth, fond of the chase. A painting on the right occupies one side
of the large room, and here are represented wild animals, the lion chasing
a hull, &c. The upper part of the house is raised, where stands a gaily-
painted column
-red and yellow
in festoons; be-
hind which, and
e er a doorway,
iM a Ases paint-

Ii pasips a

samear commajer
side are irdag-
horns. T emost
beautiful pist-
7.J-o ing in thissom
S represents* Val-
--- -sv"I-- can at h is mge,
o rorZ.s nKITCeN, OUwn AT ran "s. assisted by~ tee
dusky, tsked
figures. In the s Ie of the outward reem a small statue was fod, in
terra cotta (bt b &he ey). The a hadiwete of this house is singsaey
rich in deeniatie and the pim i, Ptie wly those of the birds and
vases, very bright ad vivid.
At this time,. as some very perfect skeletons we d covered in a
house near the t~a antd ear the hand of one of thRweuessend thirty-
seven pwer of sirer and two gold coins; some of the former were
attached to the ham e of a key. The mapy being~ w inhe perished
may have been the inmates of the dwelling. We know, i m the account
written by Ptiny, that the young and active had plenty of tie fr escape,
and this is the reason why so few skeletde I ae been found in Pbmpeii.
In a place excveated at the expense of the a press of Russis was found
a portable kitchen (represented above), ,iade of iron, with two round
holes for boiling pots The tabularop received the fire for placing
other utensils upon, and by a handle in the front it could be moved when

A m w acan s that all day long
hBad eeb d the villagee with his song,
Nor yet at eve his note suspended,
Nor yet when even-tide was ended-
Began to feel, as well he might,
The keen demands of appetite:
When, looking eagerly around,
He spied, far off upon the ground,



A something shiing in the dark,
And knew the glowworm by his spark:
So stooping down from hawthorn top,
He thought to put him in his crop.
The worm, aware of his intent,
Harangued him thus, right eloquent:-
"Did you admire my lamp," quoth he,
"As much as I your minstrelsy,
You would abhor to do me wrong,
As much as I to spoil your song;
For 'twas the self-same power Divine
Taught you to sing and me to shine,
That you with music, I with light,
Might beautify and cheer the night."
The songster heard his short oration,
And, warbling out his approbation,
Released him, as my story tells,
And found a supper somewhere else. CowIna.

A PACT not less startling than would be the realisation of the imagin-
ings of Shakespeare and of Milton, or of the speculations of Locke and of
Bacon, admits of easy demonstration, namely, that the air, the earth, and
the waters teem with numberless myriads of creatures, which are as una
known and as unapproachable to the great mass of mankind, as are the in-
habitants of another planet.
It may, indeed, be questioned,
whether, if the telescope could
bring within the reach of our
observation the living things
that dwell in the worlds around
us, life would be there displayed
in forms more diversified, in
organisms more marvellous,
under conditions more unlike
those in which animal existence
appears to our unassisted senses,
than may be discovered in the
leaves of every forest, in the
flowers of every garden, and
in the waters of every rivulet,
by that noblest instrument of
natural philosophy, the Microphy,
To an intelligent person, who LAIVA.r TH COMMON GNAr.
has previously obtained general A The body and head of the larva (magnified). a The re-
idea of the nature of the objects spiratory apparatus, situated In the tail. o Nataral as.



about to be submitted to his inspection, a group of living animalcules, seen
under a powerful microscope for the first time, presents a scene of extra-
ordinary interest, and never fails to call forth an expression of amazement
and admiration. This statement admits of an easy illustration: for example,
from some water containing aquatic plants, collected from a pond on Clap-
ham Common, I select a small twig, to which are attached a few delicate
flakes, apparently of slime or jelly; some minute fibres, standing erect
here and there on the twig, are also dimly visible to the naked eye. This
twig, with a drop or two of the water, we will put between two thin plates
of glass, and place under the field of view of a microscope, having lenses
that magnify the image of an object 200 times in linear dimensions.
Upon looking through the instrument, we find the fluid swarming with
animals of various shapes and magnitudes. Some are darting through
the water with great rapidity, while others are pursuing and devouring
creatures more infinitesimal than themselves. Many are attached to the
twig by long delicate threads, several have their bodies inclosed in a trans-
parent tube, from one end of which the animal partly protrudes and then
recedes, while others are covered by an elegant shell or case. The mi-
nutest kinds, many of which are so small that millions might be contained in
a single drop of water, appear like mere animated globules, free, single, and
of various colours, sporting about in every direction. Numerous species
resemble pearly or opaline cups or vases, fringed round the margin with deli-
cate fibres, that are in constant oscillation. Some of these are attached by
spiral tendrils; others are united by a slender stem to one common trunk,
appearing like a bunch of hare-bells; others are of a globular form, and
grouped together in a definite pattern, on a tabular or spherical membra-
nous case, for a certain period of their existence, and ultimately become
detached and locomotive, while many are permanently clustered together,
and die if separated from the parent mass. They have no organs of progres-
sive motion, similar to those of beasts, birds, or
fishes; and though many species are desti-
tute of eyes, yet all possess an accurate per-
ception of the presence of other bodies, and
pursue and capture their prey with unerring
Mantell's Thoughts on Animalcules.


A Hair of the Bat. Of theMole. c Of the Mouse.



THis bird, which is now kept and reared throughout the whole of Europe,
and even in Russia and Siberia, on account of its pretty form, docility, and
sweet song, is a native of the Canary Isles. On the banks of small
streams, in the pleasant valleys of those lovely islands, it builds its nest in
the branches of the orange-trees, of which it is so fond, that even in this
country the bird has been known to find its way into the greenhouse, and
select the fork of one of the branches of an orange-tree on which to build
its nest, seeming to be pleased with the sweet perfume of the blossoms.

The bird has been known in Europe since the beginning of the sixteenth
century, when a ship, having a large number of canaries on board destined
for Leghorn, was wrecked on the coast of Italy. The birds having re-
gained their liberty, flew to the nearest land, which happened to be the
island of Elba, where they found so mild a climate that they built their
nests there and became very numerous. But the desire to possess such
beautiful songsters led to their being hunted after, until the whole wild



race was quite destroyed. In Italy, therefore, we find the first tame
canaries, and here they are still reared in great numbers. Their natural
colour is grey, which merges into green beneath, almost resembling the
colours of the linnet; but by means of domestication, climate, and being
bred with other birds, canaries may now be met with of a great variety of
colours. But perhaps there is none more beautiful than the golden-yellow,
with blackish-grey head and tail. The hen canary lays her eggs four or
five times a year, and thus a great number of young are produced.
As they are naturally inhabitants of warm climates, and made still more
delicate by constant residence in rooms, great care should be taken in
winter that this favourite bird be not exposed to cold air, which, however
refreshing to it in the heat of summer, is so injurious in this season that
it causes sickness and even death. To keep canaries in a healthy and
happy state, it is desirable that the cage should be frequently hung in
brilliant daylight, and, if possible, placed in the warm sunshine, which,
especially when bathing, is very agreeable to them. The more simple and
true to-nature the food is, the better does it agree with them; and a little
summer rapeseed mixed with their usual allowance of the seed to which
they have given their name, will be found to be the best kind of diet. As
a treat, a little crushed hempseed or summer cabbage-seed may be mixed
with the canary-seed. The beautiful grass from which the latter is
obtained is a pretty ornament for the garden; it now grows very
abundantly in Kent.
The song of the canary is not in this country at all like that of the bird
in a state of nature, for it is a kind of compound of notes learned from
other birds. It may be taught to imitate the notes of the nightingale, by
being placed while young with that bird. Care must be taken that the
male parent of the young canary be removed from the nest before the
young ones are hatched, or it will be sure to acquire the note of its parent.
The male birds of all the feathered creation are the only ones who sing;
the females merely utter a sweet chirrup or chirp, so that from the hen
canary the bird will run no risk of learning its natural note.

DILIGENCE, industry, and proper improvement of time are material duties
of the young. To no purpose are they endowed with the best abilities, if
they want activity for exerting them. Unavailing, in this case, will be
every direction that can be given them, either for their temporal or spiritual
welfare. In youth the habits of industry are most easily acquired; in
youth the incentives to it are strong, from ambition and from duty, from
emulation and hope, from all the prospects which the beginning of life
affords. If, dead to these calls, you already languish in slothful inaction,
what will be able to quicken the more sluggish current of advancing years?
Industry is not only the instrument of improvement, but the foundation of
pleasure. Nothing is so opposite to the true enjoyment of life as the relaxed
and feeble state of an indolent mind. He who is a stranger to industry,
may possess, but he cannot enjoy. For it is labour only which gives the
relish to pleasure. It is the appointed vehicle of every good man. It is
the indispensable condition of our possessing a sound mind in a sound



body. Sloth is so inconsistent with both, that it is hard to determine
whether it be a greater foe to virtue or to health and happiness. Inactive
as it is in itself, its effects are fatally powerful. Though it appear a slowly-
flowing stream, yet it undermines all that is stable and flourishing. It not
only saps the foundation of every virtue, but pours upon you a deluge of
crimes and evils.
It is like water which first putrefies by stagnation, and then sends up
noxious vapours and fills the atmosphere with death. Fly, therefore, from
idleness, as the certain parent both of guilt and of ruin. And under idle-
ness I include, not mere inaction only, but all that circle of trifling occu-
pations in which too many saunter away their youth; perpetually engaged
in frivolous society or public amusements, in the labours of dress or the
ostentation of their persons. Is this the foundation which you lay for
future usefulness and esteem? By such accomplishments do you hope
to recommend yourselves to the thinking part of the world, and to answer
the expectations of your friends and your country? Amusements youth
requires: it were vain, it were cruel, to prohibit them. But, though allow-
able as the relaxation, they are most culpable as the business, of the young,
for they then become the gulf of time and the poison of the mind; they
weaken the manly powers; they sink the native vigour of youth into con-
temptible effeminacy. BLAIR.


THE river Jordan rises in the mountains of Lebanon, and falls into the
little Lake Merom, on the banks of which Joshua describes the hostile
Kings as pitching to fight against Israel. After passing through this lake,
it runs down a rocky valley with great noise and rapidity to the Lake of


Tiberias. In this part of its course the stream is almost hidden by shady
trees, which grow on each side. As the river approaches the Lake of
Tiberias it widens, and passes through it with a current that may be clearly
seen during a great part of its course. It then reaches a valley, which is
the lowest ground in the whole of Syria, many hundred feet below the
level of the Mediterranean Sea. It is so well sheltered by the high land
on both sides, that the heat thus produced and the moisture of the river
make the spot very rich and fertile. This lovely plain is five or six miles
across in parts, but widens as it nears the Dead Sea, whose waters cover
the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, destroyed for the wickedness of their

N Jordan's banks the Arab camels stray,
On Sion's hill the False One's votaries pray--
The Baal-adorer bows on Sinai's steep;
Yet there-even there-O God thy thunders
sleep :

There, where thy finger scorched the tablet
stone ;
There, where thy shadow to thy people shone-
Thy glory shrouded in its garb of fire
(Thyself none living see and not expire).

Oh! in the lightning let thy glance appear-
Sweep from his shivered hand the oppressor's spear!
How long by tyrants shall thy land be trod ?
How long thy temple worshipless, 0 God! BYRON.

WammeTr me degree of fortitude there em tesw happis, because,
a t ie thousand uncertainti of life, tie Am be no enjoyment of
"t_ -". The man of feeble and timonm spirit ines ouder prpetmal
sees every distant danger and tMeea ; he explores the
raiss of possibility t discover the dangers that may mime: often he
ofte imaginary ones; always magniies those that ea real. Hence,
like pemon haunted by spectra, he loses the free i e et even of a
safur d p "sperous state, and on the fArt shock of adver ty he desponds.
Imntd of exertig himself to hy hbd on the samosnes that remain, he
givm Up all for lost, and resigns hi elf to abjeatad broken spirits. On
the other hand, firmness of mind is the peent of treaqality. It enables
one to enjoy the present without disturbance, and I look calmly on dangers
that approach or evils that threaten in future. Look into the heart of
this man, and you will find composure, cheerfulness, and magnanimity;
look into the heart of the other, and you will see nothing but confusion,
anxiety, and trepidation. The one is a castle built on a rock, which defies
the attacks of surrounding waters; the other is a hutplaced on the shore,
which every wind shakes and every wave overflows. BLAIR.


IvY in a dungeon grew
Unfed by rain, uncheer'd by dew;
Its pallid leaflets only drank
Cave-moistures foul, and odours dank.

U But through the dungeon-grating high
p There fell a sunbeam from the sky:
t It slept upon the grateful floor
In silent gladness evermore.

The ivy felt a tremor shoot
Through all its fibres to the root;
It felt the light, it saw the ray,
It strove to issue into day.

SIt grew, it crept, it pushed, it clomb-
Long had the darkness been its home;
But well it knew, though veil'd in night,
The goodness and the joy of light.
Its clingmgroots grew deep and strong;
Its stem expanded firm and long;
And in the currents of the air
Its tender branches flourish'd fair.

It reached the beam-it thrilled, it curl'd,
It bless'd the warmth that cheers the world;
It rose towards the dungeon bars-
It look'd upon the sun and stars.

It felt the life of bursting spring,
It heard the happy sky-lark sing.
It caught the breath of morns and eves,
And woo'd the swallow to its leaves.

By rains, and dews, and sunshine fed
Over the outer wall it spread;
And in the daybeam waving free,
It grew into a steadfast tree.

Upon that solitary place
Its verdure threw adornig grace.
The mating birds became its guests,
And sang its praises from their nests.

Wouldst know the moral of the rhyme?
Behold the heavenly light, and climb I
Look up, O tenant of the cell,
Where man, the prisoner, muat dwell.



To every dungeon comes a
Of God's interminable day.
On every heart a sunbeam
To cheer its lonely prison

The ray is TRUTH. Oh, soul,
To bask in its celestial fire;
So shalt thou quit the glooms
of clay,
So shalt thou flourish into

So shalt thou reach the dun-
geon grate,
No longer dark and desolate;
And look around thee, and
Upon a world of light and


OW curious is the structure of the nest
of the goldfinch or chaffinch! The inside
of it is lined with cotton and fine silken
threads; and the outside cannot be suffi-
ciently admired, though it is composed
only of various species of fine moss. The
colour of these mosses, resembling that of
the bark of the tree on which the nest is
built, proves that the bird intended it
should not be easily discovered. In some
nests, hair, wool, and rushes are dex-
-'-.-.. ~-~ terously interwoven. In some, all the
parts are firmly fastened by a thread,
which the bird makes of hemp, wool, hair, or more commonly of
spiders' webs. Other birds, as for instance the blackbird and the lapwing,
after they have constructed their nest, plaster the inside with mortar, which
cements and binds the whole together; they then stick upon it, while
quite wet, some wool or moss, to give it the necessary degree of warmth.
The nests of swallows are of a very different construction from those of
other birds. They require neither wood, nor hay, nor cords; they make



a kind of mortar, with
which they form a
neat, secure, and com-
fortable habitation for
themselves and their
family. To moisten
the dust, of which they
build their nest, they
dip their breasts in
water and shake the
drops from their wet
feathers upon it. But
the nests most worthy
of admiration are those
of certain Indian birds,
which suspend them
with great art from the
branches of trees, to
secure them from the
depredations of various
animals and insects. In
general, every species
of bird has a peculiar
mode of building; but
it may be remarked of
all alike, that they
always construct their
nests in the way that
is best adapted to their
security, and to the
preservation and wel-
fare of their species.
.WO rz

Such is the wonderful in-
stinct of birds with respect
to the structure of their nests.
What skill and sagacity!
what industryand patience do
They display! And is it not
apparent that all their labours
! tend towards certain ends?
-b They construct their nests
hollow and nearly round, that
^ they may retain the heat so
much the better. They line
Them with the most delicate
J substances, that the young
' may lie soft and warm.
What is it that teaches the
bird to place her nest in a
Situation sheltered from the
rain, and secure against the
attacks of other animals?





How did she learn that she should lay eggs-that eggs would require a
nest to prevent them from falling to the ground and to keep them warm ?
Whence does she kow that the heat would not be maintained around the
eggs if the nest were too large; and that, on the other hand, the young
would not have _mi ient room if it were smaller ? By what rules does
she determine the due proportions between the nest and the young which
are not yet in exisrace ? Who has taught her to calculate the time with
such accuracy that she never commits a mistake, in producing her eggs
before the nest is eady to receive them? Admire in all these things the
power, the wisdom, and the goodness of the Creator! STURM.

HE Bosjesmans, or Bushmen, appear to be
the remains of Hottentot hordes, who have
been driven, by the gradual encroachments of
the European colonists, to seek for refuge
Among the inaccessible rocks and sterile deserts
of the interior of Africa. Most of the hordes
known in the colony by the name of Bush-
men are now entirely destitute of flocks or
herds, and subsist partly by the chase,
partly on the wild roots of the wilderness,
and in times of scarcity on reptiles, grass-
hoppers, and the larvae of ants, or by plunder-
ing their hereditary foes and oppressors, the
frontier Boers. In seasons when every green herb is devoured by swarms
of locusts, and when the wild game in consequence desert the pastures of
the wilderness, the Bushman finds a resource in the very calamity which
would overwhelm an agricultural or civilized community. He lives by
devouring the devourers; he subsists for weeks and months on locusts
alone, and also preserves a stock of this food dried, as we do herrings or
pilchards, for future consumption.
The Bushman retains the ancient arms of the Hottentot race, namely, a
javelin or assagai, similar to that of the Caffres, and a bow and arrows.
The latter, which are his principal weapons both for war and the chase,
are small in size and formed of slight materials; but, owing to the deadly
poison with which the arrows are imbued, and the dexterity with which
they are launched, they are missiles truly formidable. One of these arrows,
formed merely of a piece of slender reed tipped with bone or iron, is
sufficient to destroy the most powerful animal. But, although the colonists
very much dread the effects of the Bushman's arrow, they know how to
elude its range; and it is after all but a very unequal match for the fire-
lock, as the persecuted natives by sad experience have found. The arrows
are usually kept in a quiver, formed of the hollow stalk of a species of
aloe, and slung over the shoulder ; but a few, for immediate use, are often
stuck in a band round the head.
A group of Bosjesmans, comprising two men, two women, and a child,
were recently brought to this country and exhibited at the Egyptian Hall,
in Piccadilly. The women wore mantles and conical caps of hide, and gold



ornaments in their ears. The men also wore a sort of skin cloak, which
hung down to their knees, over a close tunic: the legs and feet were bare
in both. Their sheep-skin mantles, sewed together with threads of sinew,
and rendered soft and pliable by friction, sufficed for a garment by day

and a blanket by night. These Bosjesmans exhibited a variety of the
customs of their native country. Their whoops were sometimes so loud
as to be startling, and they occasionally seemed to consider the attention
of the spectators aq an affront.



THE merit of this Prince, both in private and public life, may with advan-
tage be set in opposition to that of any Monarch or citizen which the
annals of any age or any nation can present to us. He seems, indeed, to
be the realisation of that perfect character, which, under the denomination
of a sage or wise man, the philosophers have been fond of delineating,
rather as a fiction of their imagination than in hopes of ever seeing it
reduced to practice; so happily were all his virtues tempered together,
so justly were they blended, and so powerfully did each prevent the other
from exceeding its proper bounds. He knew how to conciliate the most
enterprising spirit with the coolest moderation; the most obstinate per-
severance with the easiest flexibility; the most severe justice with the
greatest lenity; the greatest rigour in command with the greatest affability
of deportment; the highest capacity and inclination for science, with the
most shining talents for action. His civil and his military virtues are
almost equally the objects of our admiration, excepting only, that the
former, being more rare among princes, as well as more useful, seem chiefly
to challenge our applause. Nature also, as if desirous that so bright a
production of her skill should be set in the fairest light, had bestowed
on him all bodily accomplishments, vigour of limbs, dignity of shape and
air, and a pleasant, engaging, and open countenance. Fortune alone, by
throwing him into that barbarous age, deprived him of historians worthy
to transmit his fame to posterity; and we wish to see him delineated in
more lively colours, and with more particular strokes, that we may at least
perceive some of those small specks and blemishes, from which, as a man,
it is impossible he could be entirely exempted. HUME.

H.f call my brother back to me,
I cannot play alone;
The summer comes with flower and bee-
Where is my brother gone ?

The butterfly is glancing bright
Across the sunbeam's track;
S I care not now to chase its flight-
Oh! call my brother back.

The flowers run wild-the flowers we sow'd
Around our garden-tree;
Our vine is drooping with its load-
SOh! call him back to me.

He would not hear my voice, fair child-
He may not come to thee;
The face that once like spring-time smiled,
On earth no more thou'lt see


"A rose's brief bright life of joy,
Such unto him was given;
Go, thou must play alone, my boy-
Thy brother is in heaven !"
And has he left the birds and flowers,
And must I call in vain,
And through the long, long summer hours,
Will he not come again?
And by the brook, and in the glade,
Are all our wand'rings o'er?
Oh while my brother with me played,
Would I had loved him more!-MRS. HEMANS.



AN is that link of the chain of universal
existence by which spiritual and corporeal
beings are united: as the numbers and
variety of the latter his inferiors are almost
infinite, so probably are those of the
former his superiors; and as we see that
the lives and happiness of those below us
are dependant on our wills, we may rea-
sonably conclude that our lives and happi-
ness are equally dependent on the wills of
those above us; accountable, like ourselves,
for the use of this power to the supreme
Creator ad governor of all things. Should
this analogy be well founded, how criminal will our account appear when
laid before that just and impartial judge! How will man, that sanguinary
tyrant, be able to excuse himself from the charge of those innumerable
cruelties inflicted on his unoffending subjects committed to his care,
formed for his benefit, and placed under his authority by their common
Father? whose mercy is over all his work, and who expects that his
authority should be exercised, not only wik tenderness and mecy, but
in conformity to the laws of justice and gmaitde.
But to what horrid deviations from these benevolent intentions are we
daily witnesses! no small part of mankind deive their chief amusements
from the deaths and sufferings of inferior animals; a much greater, con-
ider them only as engines of wood or iron, useful in their several occupa
tium. The carman drives his rse, and the arpenter his nail, by
repeed blows; and so long a tLhe produce the desired effect, ad they
ath g they nether reflect or eam whether either of them haveany seam
of Th*e ~buht r a mrs down the stately ox, with now maM
psaai than the blackmith hammers a horseshoe; and plungs his
knife inta th tthrea of the innocent lamb, with as little reluctance as the
tailor sticks his needed into the eolar of a coat.
If there are s few who, formed in a softer mould, view with pity the
sufferings of these defenceless creatures, there is scarce one who entertains
the least idea that justice or gratitude can be due to their merits or their
services. The social and friendly dog is hanged without remorse, if, by
barking in defence of his master's person and property, he happens un-
knowingly to disturb his rest; the generous horse, who has carried his
ungrateful master for many years with ease and safety, worn out with age
and infirmities, contracted in his service, is by him condemned to end his
miserable days in a dust-cart, where the more he exerts his little remains
of spirit, the more he is whipped to save his stupid driver the trouble of
whipping some other less obedient to the lash. Sometimes, having been
taught the practice of many unnatural and useless feats in a riding-house,
he is at last turned out and consigned to the dominion of a hackney-
coachman, by whom he is every day corrected for performing those tricks,
which he has learned under so long and severe a discipline. The sluggish
bear, in contradiction to his nature, is taught to dance for the diversion of
a malignant mob, by placing red-hot irons under his feet; and the majestic
bull is tortured by every mode which malice can invent, for no offence but



that he is gentle and unwilling to assail his diabolical tormentors. These,
with innumerable other acts of cruelty, injustice, and ingratitude, are every
day committed, not only with impunity, but without censure and even
without observation; but we may be assured that they cannot finally pass
away unnoticed and unretaliated.
The laws of self-defence undoubtedly justify us in destroying those
animals who would destroy us, who injure our properties, or annoy our
persons; but not even these, whenever their situation incapacitate
them from hurting us. I know of no right which we have to shoot a bear
on an inaccessible island of ice, or an eagle on the mountain's top; whose
lives cannot injure us, nor deaths procure us any benefit. We are unable
to give life, and therefore ought not wantonly to take it away from the
meanest insect, without sufficient reason; they all receive it from the
same benevolent hand as ourselves, and have therefore an equal right to
enjoy it.
God has been pleased to create numberless animals intended for our
sustenance; and that they are so intended, the agreeable flavour of their
flesh to our palates, and the wholesome nutriment which it administers to
our stomachs, are sufficient proofs : these, as they are formed for our use,
propagated by our culture, and fed by our care, we have certainly a right
to deprive of life, because it is given and preserved to them on that con-
dition; but this should always be performed with all the tenderness and
compassion which so disagreeable an office will permit; and no circum-
stances ought to be omitted, which can render their executions as quick and
easy as possible. For this Providence has wisely and benevolently provided,
by forming them in such a manner that their flesh becomes rancid and un-
palateable by a painful and lingering death; and has thus compelled us to
be merciful without compassion, and cautious of their sufferings, for the
sake of ourselves: but, if there are any whose tastes are so vitiated, and
whose hearts are so hardened, as to delight in such inhuman sacrifices, and
to partake of them without remorse, they should be looked upon as demons
in human shape, and expect a retaliation of those tortures which they have
inflicted on the innocent, for the gratification of their own depraved and
unnatural appetites.
So violent are the passions of anger and revenge in the human breast,
that it is not wonderful that men should persecute their real or imaginary
enemies with cruelty and malevolence; but that there should exist in
nature a being who can receive pleasure from giving pain, would be totally
incredible, if we were not convinced, by melancholy experience, that there are
not only many, but that this unaccountable disposition is in some manner
inherent in the nature of man; for, as he cannot be taught by example,
nor led to it by temptation, or prompted to it by interest, it must be de-
rived from his native constitution; and it is a remarkable confirmation of
what revelation so frequently inculcates-that he brings into the world with
him an original depravity, the effects of a fallen and degenerate state; in
proof of which we need only to observe, that the nearer he approaches to
a state of nature, the more predominant this disposition appears, and the
more violently it operates. We see children laughing at the miseries which
they inflict on every unfortunate animal which comes within their power;
all savages are ingenious in contriving, and happy in executing, the most
exquisite tortures; and the common people of all countries are delighted
with nothing so much as bull-baitings, prize-fightings, executions, and all


spectacles of cruelty and horror. Though civilization may in some de-
gree abate this native ferocity, it can never quite extirpate it ; the most
polished are not ashamed to be pleased with scenes of little less barbarity,
and, to the disgrace of human nature, to dignify them with the name of
sports. They arm cocks with artificial weapons, which nature had kindly
denied to their malevolence, and with shouts of applause and triumph see
them plunge them into each other's hearts; they view with delight the
trembling deer and defenceless hare, flying for hours in the utmost agonies of
terror and despair, and, at last, sinking under fatigue, devoured by their
merciless pursuers; they see with joy the beautiful pheasant and harm-
less partridge drop from their flight, weltering in their blood, or, perhaps,
perishing with wounds and hunger, under the cover of some friendly
thicket to which they have in vain retreated for safety; they triumph
over the unsuspecting fish whom they have decoyed by an insidious pre-
tence of feeding, and drag him from his native element by a hook fixed
to and tearing out his entrails; and, to add to all this, they spare neither
labour nor expense to preserve and propagate these innocent animals, for
no other end but to multiply the objects of their persecution.
What name would we bestow on a superior being, whose whole endeavours
were employed, and whose whole pleasure consisted in terrifying, ensnaring,
tormenting, and destroying mankind ? whose superior faculties were exerted
in fomenting animosities amongst them, in contriving engines of destruction,
and inciting them to use them in maiming and murdering each other?
whose power over them was employed in assisting the rapacious, deceiving
the simple, and oppressing the innocent? who, without provocation or
advantage, should continue from day to day, void of all pity and remorse,
thus to torment mankind for diversion, and at the same time endeavour
with his utmost care to preserve their lives and to propagate their species,
in order to increase the number of victims devoted to his malevolence, and
be delighted in proportion to the miseries he occasioned. I say, what
name detestable enough could we find for such a being? yet, if we im-
partially consider the case, and our intermediate situation, we must ac-
knowledge that, with regard to inferior animals, just such a being is
a sportsman. JENYNS.


IT was in Palestine itself that Peter the Hermit first conceived the grand
idea of rousing the powers of Christendom to rescue the Christians of the
East from the thraldom of the Mussulman, and the Sepulchre of Jesus
from the rude hands of the Infidel. The subject engrossed his whole
mind. Even in the visions of the night he was full of it. One dream
made such an impression upon him, that he devoutly believed the Saviour
of the world Himself appeared before him, and promised him aid and pro-
tection in his holy undertaking. If his zeal had ever wavered before, this
was sufficient to fix it for ever.
Peter, after he had performed all the penances and duties of his pil-
grimage, demanded an interview with Simeon, the Patriarch of the Greek
Church at Jerusalem. Though the latter was a heretic in Peter's eyes,
yet he was still a Christian, and felt as acutely as himself for the persecu-


tions heaped by the Turks upon the followers of Jesus. The good prelate
entered fully into his views, and, at his suggestion, wrote letters to the
Pope, and to the most influential Monarchs of Christendom, detailing the
sorrows of the faithful, and urging them to take up arms in their defence.
Peter was not a laggard in the work. Taking an affectionate farewell of the
Patriarch, he returned in all haste to Italy, Pope Urban II. occupied the
apostolic chair. It was at that time far from being an easy seat. His
predecessor, Gregory, had bequeathed him a host of disputes with the
Emperor Henry IV., of Germany; and he had made Philip I., of France,
his enemy. So many dangers encompassed him about that the Vatican
was no secure abode, and he had taken refuge in Apulia, under the protec-
tion of the renowned Robert Guiscard. Thither Peter appears to have
followed him, though the spot in which their meeting took place is not
stated with any precision by ancient chroniclers or modern historians.

Urban received him most kindly, read with tears in his eyes the epistle
from the Patriarch Simeon, and listened to the eloquent story of the
Hermit with an attention which showed how deeply he sympathised with
the woes of the Christian Church.
Enthusiasm is contagious, and the Pope appears to have caught it in-
stantly from one whose zeal was so unbounded. Giving the Hermit full
powers, he sent him abroad to preach the Holy War to all the nations and
potentates of Christendom. The Hermit preached, and countless thousands
answered to his call. France, Germany, and Italy started at his voice, and
prepared for the deliverance of Zion. One of the early historians of the
Crusade, who was himself an eye-witness of the rapture of Europe, de-
scribes the personal appearance of the Hermit at this time. He says that


there appeared to be something of divine in everything which he said or
did. The people so highly reverenced him, that they plucked hairs from
the mane of his mule, that they might keep them as relics. While preach-
ing, he wore, in general, a woollen tunic, with a dark-coloured mantle which
fell down to his heels. His arms and feet were bare, and he ate neither
flesh nor bread, supporting himself chiefly upon fish and wine. "He set out,"
said the chronicler, "from whence I know not; but we saw him passing
through towns and villages, preaching everywhere, and the people surround-
ing him in crowds, loading him with offerings, and celebrating his sanctity
with such great praises, that I never remember to have seen such honours
bestowed upon any one." Thus he went on, untired, inflexible, and full of
devotion, communicating his own madness to his hearers, until Europe was
stirred from its very depths. Popular Delusions,

E find a glory in the flowers
When snowdrops peep and hawthorn blooms;
We see fresh light in spring-time hours,
And bless the radiance that illumes.
i The song of promise cheers with hope,
That sin or sorrowcamnot mar;
God's beauty fills the disyed Aope,
And keeps udimm'd fith's guiding star.

We find a glory in the am~
That lives in *hild~'a happy face,
l Ere fearful doubt or gw i U le
Has swept away aaae d trmce.
The ry of promise shineth thee,
To tell of better lands afar;
God sends his image, pure and fair,
To keep undimm'd Faith's guiding str.

We find a glory in the zeal
Of dating breast and toiling bmina;
Affection's martyrs still will kneel,
And song, though famish'd, pour its strain.
They lure us by a quenchless light,
And point where joy is holier far;
They shed God's spirit, warm and bright,
And keep undimm'd Faith's guiding star.

We muse beside the rolling waves;
We ponder on the grassy hill;
We linger by the new-piled graves,
And find that star is shining still.
God in his great design hath spread,
Unnumber'd rays to lead afar;
They beam the brightest o'er the dead,
And keep undimm'd Faith's guiding st---ELIZA Coox.


MY loving people! we have been persuaded by some that are careful of
our safety, to take heed how we commit ourself to armed multitudes, for
fear of treachery; but, I assure you, I do not desire to live to distrust my
faithful and loving people. Let tyrants fear: I have always so behaved
myself, that, under God, I have placed my chief strength and safeguard in
the loyal hearts and good-will of my subjects. And, therefore, I am come

among you at this time, not for my recreation or sport, but being resolved,
in the midst and heat of the battle, to live or die among you all, and to lay
down for my God, and for my kingdom, and for my people, my honour
and my blood-even in the dust. I know I have the body of a weak and
feeble woman; but I have the heart of a King, and the heart of a King



of England, too! and think foul scorn, that Parma, or Spain, or any
Prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realms; to
which, rather than dishonour should grow by me, I myself will take up
arms-I myself will be your general, your judge, and the rewarder of every
one of your virtues in the field. I know already, by your forwardness,
that you have deserved rewards and crowns; and we do assure you, on the
word of a Prince, they shall be duly paid you. In the meantime, my
Lieutenant-General shall be in my stead, than whom never Prince com-
.manded more noble and worthy subject; nor do I doubt, by your obe-
dience to my General, by your concord in the camp, and your valour in the
field, we shall shortly have a famous victory over the enemies of my God,
my kingdom, and my people. English History.


HE city of Jalapa, in Mexico, is very
Beautifully situated at the foot of Ma-
l cultepec, at an elevation of 4335 feet
above the level of the sea ; but as this
is about the height which the strata
of clouds reach, when suspended over
S the ocean, they come in contact with
the ridge of the Cordillera Mountains;
this renders the atmosphere exceed-
ingly humid and disagreeable, parti-
cularly in north-easterly winds. In summer,
however, the mists disappear; the climate is
,, perfectly delightful, as the extremes of heat and
Scold are never experienced.
On a bright sunny day, the scenery round
Jalapa is not to be surpassed. Mountains bound
the horizon, except on one side, where a distant
view of the sea adds to the beauty of the scene.
S| Orizaba, with its snow-capped peak, appears so
Close, that one imagines that it is within a few
( 'hours' reach, and rich evergreen forests clothe
Sthe surrounding hills. In the foreground are
Beautiful gardens, with fruits of every clime-the
banana and fig, the orange, cherry, and apple. The town is irregularly built,
but very picturesque; the houses are in the style of the old houses of
Spain, with windows down to the ground, and barred, in which sit the
Jalapenas ladies, with their fair complexions and black eyes.
Near Jalapa are two or three cotton factories, under the management of
English and Americans: the girls employed are all Indians, healthy and
good-looking; they are very apt in learning their work, and soon com-
prehend the various uses of the machinery. In the town there is but little to
interest the stranger, but the church is said to have been founded by Cortez,
and there is also a Franciscan convent. The vicinity of Jalapa, although
poorly cultivated, produces maize, wheat, grapes, and jalap, from which
plant the well-known medicine is prepared, and the town takes its name.



A little lower down the Cordillera grows the vanilla, the bean of which
is so highly esteemed for its aromatic flavour.

The road from Jalapa to tEe city oF Mexico constantly ascends, and the
scenery is mountainous and grand; the villages are but few, and fifteen or



twenty miles apart, with a very scanty population. No signs of cultivation
are to be seen, except little patches of maize and chile, in the midst of which
is sometimes to be seen an Indian hut formed of reeds and flags. The mode
of travelling in this country is by diligences, but these are continually
attacked and robbed; and so much is this a matter of course, that the
Mexicans invariably calculate a certain sum for the expenses of the road,
including the usual fee for the banditti. Baggage is sent by the muleteers,
by which means it is ensured from all danger, although a long time on the
road. The Mexicans never think of resisting these robbers, and a coach-
load of eight or nine is often stopped and plundered by one man. The
foreigners do not take matters so quietly, and there is scarcely an English
or American traveller in the country who has not come to blows in a per-
sonal encounter with the banditti at some period or other of his adventures.

ONDORS are found throughout the whole range of
the Cordilleras, along the south-west coast of South
H America, from the Straits of Magellan to the Rio
Negro. Their habitations are almost invariably on
overhanging ledges of high and perpendicular cliffs,
where they both sleep and breed, sometimes in pairs,
but frequently in colonies of twenty or thirty together.
They make no nest, but lay two large white eggs on
the bare rock. The young ones cannot use their wings for flight
until many months after they are hatched, being covered, during that
time, with only a blackish down, like that of a gosling. They remain
on the cliff where they were hatched long after having acquired the full
power of flight, roosting and hunting in company with the parent birds.
Their food consists of the carcases of guanacoes, deer, cattle, and other
The condors may oftentimes be seen at a great height, soaring over a
certain spot in the most graceful spires and circles. Besides feeding on
carrion, the condors will frequently attack young goats and lambs. Hence,
the shepherd dogs are trained, the moment the enemy passes over, to run
out, and, looking upwards, to bark violently. The people of Chili de-
stroy and catch great numbers. Two methods are used: one is to place
a carcase within an inclosure of sticks on a level piece of ground; and
when the condors are gorged, to gallop up on horseback to the entrance,
and thus inclose them; for when this bird has not space to run, it cannot
give its body sufficient momentum to rise from the ground. The second
method is to mark the trees in which, frequently to the number of five or
six together, they roost, and then at night to climb up and noose them.
They are such heavy sleepers that this is by no means a difficult task.
The condor, like all the vulture tribe, discovers his food from a great
distance; the body of an animal is frequently surrounded by a dozen or
more of them, almost as soon as it has dropped dead, although five minutes
before there was not a single bird in view. Whether this power is to be
attributed to the keenness of his olfactory or his visual organs, is a matter
still in dispute; although it is believed, from a minute observation of its
habits in confinement, to be rather owing to its quickness of sight.




I WAS yesterday, about sun-set, walking in the open fields, till the night
insensibly fell upon me. I at first amused myself with all the richness and
variety of colours which appeared in the western parts of heaven; in pro-
portion as they faded away and went out, several stars and planets appeared
one after another, till the whole firmament was in a glow. The blueness of
the ether was exceedingly heightened and enlivened by the season of tha


year, and the rays of all those luminaries that passed through it. The
Galaxy appeared in its most beautiful white. To complete the scene, the
full moon rose at length in that clouded majesty which Milton takes notice
of, and opened to the eye a new picture of nature, which was more finely
shaded, and disposed among softer lights, than that which the sun had
before discovered to us.
As I was surveying the moon walking in her brightness, and taking her
progress among the constellations, a thought arose in me, which I believe
very often perplexes and disturbs men of serious and contemplative natures.
David himself fell into it in that reflection, When I consider the heavens
the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast or-
dained, what is man that though art mindful of him, and the son of man
that thou regardest him!" In the same manner, when I consider that in-
finite host of stars, or, to speak.more philosophically, of suns, which were
then shining upon me, with those innumerable sets of planets or worlds,
which were moving round their respective suns; when I still enlarged the
idea, and suppose another heaven of suns and worlds rising still above
this which we discovered, and these still enlightened by a superior firma-
ment of luminaries, which are planted at so great a distance, that they
may appearto the inhabitants of the former as the stars do to us; in short,
while I pursued this thought, I could not but reflect on that little insignifi-
cant figure which I myself bore amidst the immensity of God's works.
Were the sun, which enlightens this part of the creation, with all the
host of planetary worlds that move about him, utterly extinguished and
annihilated, they would not be missed more than a grain of sand upon the
sea-shore. The space they possess is so exceedingly little in comparison of
the whole, it would scarce make a blank in creation. The chasm would be
imperceptible to an eye that could take in the whole compass of nature,
ad pass from one end of creationto the other; as it is possible there may be
such a sense in ourselves hereafter, or in creatures which are at present more
exalted than ourselves. We see many stars by the help of glasses, which
we do not discover with our naked eyes; and the finer our telescopes are,
the more still are our discoveries. Huygenius carries this thought so far,
that he does not think it impossible there may be stars whose light is not
yet travelled down to us since their first creation. There is no question
but the universe has certain bounds set to it; but when we consider that it
is the work of infinite power, prompted by infinite goodness, with an infinite
space to exert itself in, how can our imagination set any bounds to it ?
To return, therefore, to my first thought, I could not but look upon
myself with secret horror, as a being that was not worth the smallest regard
of one who had so great a work under his care and superintendency. I
was afraid of being overlooked amidst the immensity of nature, and lost
among that infinite variety of creatures, which in all probability swarm
through all these immeasurable regions of matter.
In order to recover myself from this mortifying thought, I considered
that it took its rise from those narrow conceptions which we are apt to
entertain of the Divine nature. We ourselves cannot attend to many
different objects at the same time. If we are careful to inspect some
things, we must of course neglect others. This imperfection which we
observe in ourselves is an imperfection that cleaves in some degree to
creatures of the highest capacities, as they are creatures, that is, beings of
finite and limited natures. The presence of every created being is confined


to a certain measure of space, and consequently his observation is stinted
to a certain number of objects. The sphere in which we move, and act,
and understand, is of a wider circumference to one creature than another,
according as we rise one above another in the scale of existence. But the
widest of these our spheres has its circumference. When therefore we
reflect on the Divine nature, we are so used and accustomed to this imper-
fection in ourselves, that we cannot forbear in some measure ascribing it to
Him in whom there is no shadow of imperfection. Our reason indeed as-
sures us that his attributes are infinite; but the poorness of our conceptions
is such, that it cannot forbear setting bounds to every thing it contemplates,
till our reason comes again to our succour and throws down all those little
prejudices which rise in us unawares, and are natural to the mind of man.
We shall, therefore, utterly extinguish this melancholy thought of our
being overlooked by our Maker in the multiplicity of his works, and the
infinity of those objects among which He seems to be incessantly employed,
if we consider, in the first place, that He is omnipresent; and in the
second, that He is omniscient.
If we consider Him in his omnipresence; his being passes through,
actuates, and supports the whole frame of nature. His creation, and
every part of it, is full of Him. There is nothing He has made that is either
so distant, so little, or so inconsiderable, which He does not essentially
inhabit. His substance is within the substance of every being, whether
material or immaterial, and as intimately present to it as that being is to
itself. It would be an imperfection in Him, were He able to move out of
one place into another, or to draw himself from any thing He has created,
or from any part of that space which He diffused and spread abroad to
infinity. In short, to speak of Him in the language of the old philosophers,
He is a being whose centre is everywhere and his circumference nowhere.
In the second place, He is omniscient as well as omnipresent. His
omniscience indeed necessarily and naturally flows from his omnipresence.
He cannot but be conscious of every motion that arises in the whole
material world which He thus essentially pervades; and of every thought
that is stirring in the intellectual world, to every part of which He is thus
intimately united. Several moralists have considered the creation as the
temple of God, which He has built with his own hands, and which is filled
with his presence. Others have considered infinite space as the receptacle,
or rather the habitation of the Almighty; but the noblest and most-exalted
owy of considering this infinite space, is that of Sir Isaac Newton, who
alls it the asorinm of the Godhead. Brutes and men have their seworila
or little nseaoin by which they apprehend the presence and perceive the
actions of a few objects that lie contiguous to them. Their knowledge and
observation turn within a very narrow circle. But, as God Almighty can-
not but perceive and know everything in which He resides, infinite space
gives room to infinite knowledge, and is, as it were, an organ to omniscience.
Were the soul separate from the body, and with one glance of thought
should start beyond the bounds of the creation, should it millions of years
continue its progress through infinite space with the same activity, it would
still find itself within the embrace of its Creator, and encompassed round
with the immensity of the Godhead. While we are in the body, He is not
less present with us, because He is concealed from us. "Oh, that I knew
where I might find Him ?' says Job. Behold I go forward, but He is
,not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive Him; on the left hand,



where He does work, but I cannot behold Him; He hideth himself on
the right hand, that I cannot see Him." In short, reason as well as revela-
tion assures us that He cannot be absent from us, notwithstanding He is
undiscovered by us.
In this consideration of God Almighty's omnipresence and omniscience,
every uncomfortable thought vanishes. He cannot but regard everything
that has being, especially such of his creatures who fear they are not re-
garded by Him. He is privy to all their thoughts, and to that anxiety of
heart in particular, which is apt to trouble them on this occasion; for, as
it is impossible He should overlook any of his creatures, so we may be
confident that He regards, with an eye of mercy, those who endeavour to
recommend themselves to his notice, and in unfeigned humility of heart
think themselves unworthy that He should be mindful of them.


LONG trails of cistus flowers
Creep on the rocky hill,
And beds of strong spearmint
Grow round about the mill;
And from a mountain tarn above,
As peaceful as a dream,
Like to a child unruly,
Though school'd and counsell'd ti uly,
Roams down the wild mill str am!


The wild mill stream it dasheth
In merriment away,
And keeps the miller and his son
So busy all the day.

Into the mad mill stream
The mountain roses fall;
And fern and adder's-tongue
Grow on the old mill wall.
The tarn is on the upland moor,
Where not a leaf doth grow;
And through the mountain gashes,
The merry mill stream dashes
Down to the sea below.
But in the quiet hollows
The red trout growth prime,
For the miller and the miller's son
To angle when they've time.


Then fair befall the stream
That turns the mountain mill;
And fair befall the narrow road
That windeth up the hill!
And good luck to the countryman,
And to his old grey mare,
That upward toileth steadily,
With meal sacks laden heavily,
In storm as well as fair!
And good luck to the miller,
And to the miller's son;
And ever may the mill-wheel turn
While mountain waters run! MARY HOWITT.

NVY is almost the only vice which is
practicable at all times, and in every place
S -the only passion which can never lie
quiet for want of irritation; its effects,
therefore, are everywhere discoverable, and
its attempts always to be dreaded.
It is impossible to mention a name,
which any advantageous distinction has
made eminent, but some latent animosity
will burst out. The wealthy trader, how-
SBever he may abstract himself from public
affairs, will never want those who hint
with Shylock, that ships are but boards,
and that no man can properly be termed
rich whose fortune is at the mercy of the winds. The beauty adorned
only with the unambitious graces of innocence and modesty, provokes,


whenever she appears, a thousand murmurs of detraction and whispers of
suspicion. The genius, even when he endeavours only to entertain with
pleasing images of nature, or instruct by uncontested principles of science,
yet suffers persecution from innumerable critics, whose acrimony is
excited merely by the pain of seeing others pleased-of hearing applause
which another enjoys.
The frequency of envy makes it so familiar that it escapes our notice;
nor do we often reflect upon its turpitude or malignity, till we happen to
feel.its influence. When he that has given no provocation to malice, but
by attempting to excel in some useful art, finds himself pursued by multi-
tudes whom he never saw with implacability of personal resentment; when
he perceives clamour and malice let loose upon him as a public enemy, and
incited by every stratagem of defamation; when he hears the misfortunes
of his family or the follies of his youth exposed to the world; and every
failure of conduct, or defect of nature, aggravated and ridiculed; he then
learns to abhor those artifices at which he only laughed before, and dis-
covers how much the happiness of life would be advanced by the eradica-
tion of envy from the human heart.
Envy is, indeed, a stubborn weed of the mind, and seldom yields to the
culture of philosophy. There are, however, considerations which, if care-
fully implanted, and diligently propagated, might in time overpower and
repress it, since no one can nurse it for the sake of pleasure, as its effects
are only shame, anguish, and perturbation. It is, above all other vices,
inconsistent with the character of a social being, because it sacrifices truth
and kindness to very weak temptations. He that plunders a wealthy
neighbour, gains as much as he takes away, and improves his own condi-
tion in the same proportion as he impairs another's; but he that blasts a
flourishing reputation, must be content with a small dividend of additional
fame, so small as can afford very little consolation to balance the guilt by
which it is obtained.
I have hitherto avoided mentioning that dangerous and empirical
morality, which cures one vice by means of another. But envy is so base
and detestable, so vile in its original, and so pernicious in its effects, that
the predominance of almost any other quality is to be desired. It is one
of those lawless enemies of society, against which poisoned arrows may
honestly be used. Let it therefore be constantly remembered, that who-
ever envies another, confesses his superiority; and let those be reform
by their pride, who have lost their virtue.
Almost every other crime is practised by the help of some quality whi
might have produced esteem or love, if it had been well employed; b t
envy is a more unmixed and genuine evil; it pursues a hateful end y
despicable means, and desires not so much its own happiness as anot r's
misery. To avoid depravity like this, it is not necessary that an one
should aspire to heroism or sanctity; but only that he should resoLe not
to quit the rank which nature assigns, and wish to maintain the dignity
of a human being. DR. JOHn ON.

No tree is more frequently mentioned by ancient authors, nor was any
more highly honoured by ancient nations, than the olive. By the Greeks
it was dedicated to the goddess of wisdom, and formed the crown of



honour given to their Emperors and great men, as with the Romans.
It is a tree of slow growth, but remarkable for the great age it attains;
never, however, becoming a very large tree, though sometimes two or three
stems rise from the same root, and reach the height of from twenty to thirty
feet. The leaves grow in pairs, lanceolate in shape, of a dull green on the
upper, and hoary on the under side. Hence, in countries where the olive is
extensively cultivated, the scenery is of a dull character, from this colour of
the foliage. The fruit is oval in shape, with a hard strong kernel, and
remarkable from the outer fleshy part being that in which much oil is
lodged, and not, as is usual, in the seed. It ripens from August to
Of the olive-tree two varieties are particularly distinguished: the long-
leafed, which is cultivated in the south of France and in Italy; and the
broad-leafed in Spain, which has its fruit much longer than that of the
former kind.
That the olive grows to a great age, has long been known. Pliny men-
tions one which the Athenians of his time considered to be coeval with
their city, and therefore 1600 years old; and near Terni, in the vale of

_5 ...... ... .. .._ .

the cascade of Marmora, there is a plantation of very old trees, supposed to
consist of the same plants that were growing there in the time of Pliny.
Lady Calcott states that on the mountain road between Tivoli and Pales-
trina, there is an ancient olive-tree of large dimensions, which, unless the
documents are purposely falsified, stood as a boundary between two posses-
sions even before the Christian era. Those in the garden of Olivet or
Gethsemane are at least of the time of the Eastern Empire, as is proved
by the following circumstance :-In Turkey every olive-tree found stand-
ing by the Mussulmans, when they conquered Asia, pays one medina to
the treasury, while each of those planted since the conquest is taxed half
its produce. The eight olives of which we are speaking are charged only
eight medinas. By some it is supposed that these olive-trees may have
been in existence even in the time of our Saviour; the largest is about
thirty feet in girth above the roots, and twenty-seven feet high.



HERE is a beautiful
t r propriety in the order
in which Nature seems
S to have directed the
singing-birds to fill up
~, the day with their pleasing
S < harmony. The accordance
5s- wit between their songs and the
external aspect of nature, at
the successive periods of the
-- day at which they sing, is
quite remarkable. And it is impossible to visit the forest or the seques-
tered dell, where the notes of the feathered tribes are heard to the
greatest advantage, without being im-
pressed with the conviction that there is
design in the arrangement of this sylvan
First the robin (and not the lark, as
has been generally imagined), as soon as
twilight has drawn its imperceptible line
between night and day, begins his lovely -
song. How sweetly does this harmonise
with the soft dawning of the day! He
goes on till the twinkling sun-beams begin
to tell him that his notes no longer accord
with the rising scene. Up starts the lark, THIE ROBIN.
and N ith him a variety of sprightly songsters, whose lively notes are in perfect
correspondence with the gaiety of the morning. The general warbling con-
tinues, with now and then an interruption by the transient croak of the
raven, the scream of the jay, or the pert chattering of the daw. The
nightingale, unwearied by the vocal exertions of the night, joins his in-
feriors in sound in the general harmony. The thrush is wisely placed on

the summit of some lofty tree, that its loud and piercing notes may be
softened by distance before they reach the ear; while the mellow blackbird
seeks the inferior branches.



Should the sun, having been eclipsed by a cloud, shine forth with
fresh effulgence, how frequently we see the goldfinch perch on some blos-
somed bough, and hear its song poured forth in a strain peculiarly ener-
getic; while the sun, full shining on his beautiful plumes, displays his
golden wings and crimson crest to charming advantage. The notes of the
cuckoo blend with this cheering concert in a pleasing manner, and for a
short time are highly grateful to the ear. But sweet as this singular song is,
it would tire by its uniformity, were it not given in so transient a manner.
At length evening advances, the performers gradually retire, and the
concert softly dies away. The sun is seen no more. The robin again sends up
his twilight song, till the more serene hour of night sets him to the bower
to rest. And now to close the scene in full and perfect harmony; no
sooner is the voice of the robin hushed, and night again spreads in gloom
over the horizon, than the owl sends forth his slow and solemn tones. They
are more than plaintive and less than melancholy, and tend to inspire the
imagination with a train of contemplations well adapted to the serious hour.
Thus we see that birds bear no inconsiderable share in harmonizing some
of the most beautiful and interesting scenes in nature. DR. JENNER.

THUS died Edward VI., in the sixteenth year of his age. He was counted
the wonder of his time; he was not only learned in the tongues and the
liberal sciences, but he knew well the state of his kingdom. He kept a
table-book, in which he had written the characters of all the eminent men
of the nation: he studied fortification, and understood the mint well. He
knew the harbours in all his dominions, with the depth of the water, and
way of coming into them. He understood foreign affairs so well, that the
ambassadors who were sent into England, published very extraordinary
things of him in all the courts of Europe. He had great quickness of
apprehension, but being distrustful of his memory, he took notes of every-
thing he heard that was considerable, in Greek characters, that those about
him might not understand what he writ, which he afterwards copied out
fair in the journal that he kept. His virtues were wonderful; when he
was made to believe that his uncle was guilty of conspiring the death of
the other councillors, he upon that abandoned him.
Barnaby Fitzpatrick was his favourite; and when he sent him to travel,
he writ oft to him to keep good company, to avoid excess and luxury, and
to improve himself in those things that might render him capable of em-
ployment at his return. He was afterwards made Lord of Upper Ossory, in
Ireland, by Queen Elizabeth, and did answer the hopes this excellent King
had of him. He was very merciful in his nature, which appeared in his
unwillingness to sign the warrant for burning the Maid of Kent. He took
great care to have his debts well paid, reckoning that a Prince who breaks
his faith and loses his credit, has thrown'up that which he can never re-
cover, and made himself liable to perpetual distrust and extreme contempt.
He took special care of the petitions that were given him by poor and
opprest people. But his great zeal for religion crowned all the rest-it
was a true tenderness of conscience, founded on the love of God and his
neighbour. These extraordinary qualities, set off with great sweetness and
affability, made him universally beloved by his people. BURNET.



`- HAT sounds are on the mountain blast,
Like bullet from the arbalast ?
Was it the hunted quarry past
Right up Ben-ledi's side?
So near, so rapidly, he dash'd,
Yon lichen'd bough has scarcely plash'd
Into the torrent's tide.
Ay! the good hound may bay beneath,
The hunter wind his horn
He dared ye through the flooded Teith,
As a warrior in his scorn
Dash the red rowel in the steed!
Spur, laggards, while ye may!
St. Hubert's staff to a stripling reed,
He dies no death to-day!
"Forward!" nay, waste not idle breath,
Gallants, ye win no greenwood wreath;
His antlers dance above the heath,
Like chieftain's plumed helm;
Right onward for the western peak,
Where breaks the sky in one white streak,
See, Isabel, in bold relief,
To Fancy's eye, Glenartney's chief,
Guarding his ancient realm.
So motionless, so noiseless there,
His foot on rock, his head in air,
Like sculptor's breathing stone :
Then, snorting from the rapid race,
Snuffs the free air a moment's space,
Glares grimly on the baffled chase,
And seeks the covert lone.
Hunting has been a favourite sport in Britain for many centuries.
Dyonisius (B.c. 50) tells us that the North Britons lived, in great part,
upon the food they procured by hunting. Strabo states that the dogs bred
in Britain were highly esteemed on the Continent, on account of their ex-
cellent qualities for hunting; and Caesar tells us that venison constituted
a great portion of the food of the Britons, who did not eat hares. Hunting
was also in ancient times a Royal and noble sport : Alfred the Great hunted
Sat twelve years of age; Athelstan, Edward the Confessor, Harold, William
the Conqueror, William Rufus, and John were all good huntsmen; Ed-
ward II. reduced hunting to a science, and established rules for its prac-
tice; Henry IV. appointed a master of the game; Edward III. hunted
with sixty couples of stag-hounds; Elizabeth was a famous huntswoman;
and James I. preferred hunting to hawking or shooting. The Bishops
and Abbots of the middle ages hunted with greatstate. Ladies also joined
in the chase from the earliest times; and a ladys hunting-reu in the fi
teeth century scarcely differed from the riding-habit of the present day.




e LIZABETH his wife, actuated by his undaunted
spirit, applied to the House of Lords for his release;
and, according to her relation, she was told, "they
could do nothing; but that his releasement was
committed to the Judges at the next assizes." The
Judges were Sir Matthew Hale and Mr. Justice
Twisden; and a remarkable contrast appeared be-
tween thewell-known meekness of the one, and fury of
the other. Elizabeth came before them, and, stating
her husband's case, prayed for justice: "Judge
Twisden," says John Bunyan, snapt her up, and angrily told her that I was
a convicted person, and could not be released unless I would promise to preach
no more. Elizabeth: The Lords told me that releasement was committed
to you, and you give me neither releasement nor relief. My husband is
unlawfully in prison, and you are bound to discharge him.' Twisden : 'He
has been lawfully convicted.' Elizabeth: It is false, for when they said
" Do you confess the indictment ?" he answered, At the meetings where he
preached, they had God's presence among them."' Twisden: Will your
husband leave preaching ? if he will do so, then send for him.' Elizabeth :
' My Lord, he dares not leave off preaching as long as he can speak. But,
good my Lords, consider that we have four small children, one of them
blind, and that they have nothing to live upon while their father is in prison,
but the charity of Christian people.' Sir Matthew Hale: 'Alas! poor
woman.' Twisden : Poverty is your cloak, for I hear your husband is
better maintained by running up and down a-preaching than by following
his calling?' Sir Matthew Hale: 'What is his calling?' Elizabeth:
'A tinker, please you my Lord; and because he is a tinker, and a poor
man, therefore he is despised and cannot have justice.' Sir Mattheo
Hale : 'I am truly sorry we can do you no good. Sitting here we can
only act as the law gives us warrant; and we have no power to reverse the
sentence, although it may be erroneous. What your husband said was
taken for a confession, and he stands convicted. There is, therefore, no
course for you but to apply to the King for a pardon, or to sue out a writ
of error; and, the indictment, or subsequent proceedings, being shown to
be contrary to law, the sentence shall be reversed, and your husband shall
be set at liberty. I am truly sorry for your pitiable case. I wish I could
serve you, but I fear I can do you no good.'"
Little do we know what is for our permanent good. Had Bunyan then
been discharged and allowed to enjoy liberty, he no doubt would have re-
turned to his trade, filling up his intervals of leisure with field-preaching;
his name would not have survived his own generation, and he could have
done little for the religious improvement of mankind. The prison doors
were shut upon him for twelve years. Being cut off from the external
world, he communed with his own soul; and, inspired by Him who touched
Isaiah's hallowed lips with fire, he composed the noblest of allegories, the
merit of which was first discovered by the lowly, but which is now lauded
by the most refined critics, and which has done more to awaken piety, and
to enforce the precepts of Christian morality, than all the sermons that
have been published by all the prelates of the Anglican Church.
LORD CAMPBELL'S Lives of the Judges.



Tars singular variety of the Fox was first made known to naturalist in
1820, after the return of De Laland from South Africa. It is an inha-
bitant of the mountains in the neighbourhood of the Cape of Good ope,
but it is so rare that little is known of its habits in a state of nature. e
Engraving was taken from a specimen which has been lately placed in the

Zoological Society's gardens in the Regent's Park. It is extremely quick of
hearing, and there is something in the general expression of the head which
suggests a resemblance to the long-eared bat. Its fur is very thick, and the
brush is larger than that of our common European fox. The skin of the
fox is in many species very valuable; that of another kind of fox at the
Cape of Good Hope is so much in request among the natives as a covering



for the cold season, that many of the Bechuanas are solely employed in
hunting the animal down with dogs, or laying snares in the places to which
it is known to resort.
In common with all other foxes, those of Africa are great enemies to
birds which lay their eggs upon the ground; and their movements are, in
particular, closely watched by the ostrich during the laying season. When
the fox has surmounted all obstacles in procuring eggs, he has to encounter
the difficulty of getting at their contents; but even for this task his cun-
ning finds an expedient, and it is that of pushing them forcibly along the
ground until they come in contact with some substance hard enough to
break them, when the contents are speedily disposed of.
The natives, from having observed the anxiety of the ostrich to keep this
animal from robbing her nest, avail themselves of this solicitude to lure
the bird to its destruction; for, seeing that it runs to the nest the instant
a fox appears, they fasten a dog near it, and conceal themselves close
by, and the ostrich, on approaching to drive away the supposed fox, is
frequently shot by the real hunter.
The fur of the red fox of America is much valued as an article of trade,
and about 8000 are annually imported into England from the fur countries,
where the animal is very abundant, especially in the wooded parts.
Foxes of various colours are also common in the fur countries of North
America, and a rare and valuable variety is the black or silver fox. Dr.
Richardson states that seldom more than four or five of this variety are
taken in a season at one post, though the hunters no sooner find out the
haunts of one, than they use every art to catch it, because its fur fetches
six times the price of any other fur produced in North America. This fox
is sometimes found of a rich deep glossy black, the tip of the brush alone
being white; in general, however, it is silvered over the end of each of the
long hairs of the fur, producing a beautiful appearance.
The Arctic fox resembles greatly the European species, but is considerably
smaller; and, owing to the great quantity of white woolly fur with which it is
covered, is somewhat like a little shock dog. The brush is very large and full,
affording an admirable covering for the nose and feet, to which it acts as a
muff when the animal sleeps. The fur is in the greatest perfection during
the months of winter, when the colour gradually becomes from an ashy
grey to a full and pure white, and is extremely thick, covering even the
soles of the feet. Captain Lyon has given very interesting accounts of
the habits of this animal, and describes it as being cleanly and free from
any unpleasant smell: it inhabits the most northern lands hitherto dis-




THE Plain of Esdraelon, in Palestine, is often mentioned in sacred history,
as the great battle-field of the Jewish and other nations, under the names
of the Valley of Mejiddo and the Valley of Jizreel, and by Josephus as
the Great Plain. The convenience of its extent and situation for military
action and display has, from the earliest periods of history down to our
own day, caused its surface at certain intervals to be moistened with the
blood, and covered with the bodies of conflicting warriors of almost every
nation under heaven. This extensive plain, exclusive of three great arms
which stretch eastward towards the Valley of the Jordan, may be said to bein
the form of an acute triangle, having the measure of 13 or 14 miles on
the north, about 18 on the east, and above 20 on the south-west. Before
the verdure of spring and early summer has been parched up by the heat
and drought of the late summer and autumn, the view of the Great Plain
.... .. : .:- ._-~ _- ._ -__--

--I ==c--I--

is, from its fertility and beauty, very delightful. In June, yellow fil of
grain, with green patches of millet and cotton, chequer the landscape 'ic-
a carpet. The plain itself is almost without villages, but there are several
on the slopes of the inclosing hills, especially on the side of Mount a"-
mel. On the borders of this plain Mount Tabor stands out alone in magnifi-
cent grandeur. Seen from the south-west its fine proportions present a seini-
globular appearance but from the north-west it more resembles a tr i
cated cone. By an tacient path, which winds considerably, one may d t
to the summit, where is a'imall oblong plain with the foundations of alcient
buildings. The view from the summit is declared by Lord Nugent to Ie
the most splendid he could recollect having ever seen from any nati I
height. The sides of the mountain are mostly covered with bushes ati



woods of oak trees, with occasionally pistachio trees, presenting a beautiful
appearance, and affording a welcome and agreeable shade. There are

various tracks up its sides, often crossing each other, and the ascent gene-
rally occupies about an hour. The crest of the mountain is table-land,
600 or 700 yards in height from north to south, and about half as much
across, and a flat field of about an acre occurs at a level of some 20 or 25
feet lower than the eastern brow. There are remains of several small ruined
tanks on the crest, which still catch the rain water dripping through the
crevices of the rock, and preserve it cool and clear, it is said, throughout
the year.
The tops of this range of mountains are barren, but the slopes and
values afford pasturage, and are capable of cultivation, from the numerous
springs which are met with in all directions. Cultivation is, however,
chiefly found on the seaward slopes; there many flourishing villages exist,
and every inch of ground is turned to account by the industrious natives.
Here, amidst the crags of the rocks, are to be seen the remains of the
renowned cedars with which Lebanon once abounded; but a much larger
proportion of firs, sycamores, mulberry trees, fig trees, and vines now exist.

HE, that most faithful
lady, all this while,
Forsaken, woful, solitary
Far from the people's
throng, as in exile,
In wilderness and waste-
ful deserts stray'd
To seek her knight; who,
subtlely betray'd
By that false vision which
th' enchanter wrought,
Had her abandoned. She,
of nought afraid.


Him through the woods and wide wastes daily sought,
Yet wish'd for tidings of him-none unto her brought.
One day, nigh weary of the irksome way,
From her unhasty beast she did alight;
And on the grass her dainty imbs did lay
In secret shadow, far from all men's sight:
From her fair head her fillet she undight,
And laid her stole aside; her angel face,
As the great eye that lights the earth, shone bight,
And made a sunshine in that shady place,
That never mortal eye beheld such heavenly grace.

It fortun'd that, from out the thicket wood
A ramping lion rushed suddenly,
And hunting greedy after savage blood,
The royal virgin helpless did espy;
At whom, with gaping mouth full greedily
To seize and to devour her tender coe,
When he did run, he stopped ere he drew nigh,
And loosing all his rage in quick remorse,
As with the sight amazed, forgot his furius force.

Then coming near, he kiss'd her weary feet,
And lick'd her ily hand with fawning tongue,
As he her wronged innocence did meet:
Oh! how can beauty master the moet strong,
And simple truth subdue intent of wrong!
His proud submission, and his yielded pride,
Though dreading death, when she had marlod long,
She felt compassion in her heart to fide,
And drizzling tears to gush that might not be denied

And with her tears she por'd a sad complaint,
That softly echoed from the neighboring wood;
While sad to see her sorrowful constrait,
The kingly beast upon her gazing stood:
With pity camh'd he lost all angry mood.
At length, in close breast shutting up her pan,
Arose the virgin born of heavenly brood,
And on her snowy pafrey rode again
To seek and find her knight, if him she might attain.

The lion would not leave her desolate,
But with her went along, a a strong guard
Of her chte person, and a faithful mate
Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard:
Still when she slept, he kept both watch and ward,
And when she waked, he waited diligent
With humble service to her will prepared.
From her fair eyes he took commandment,
And ever by her looks conceived her intent. Seuma .


EVEN miles from the sea-port of Boston, in
Lincolnshire, lies the rural town of Swines-
-head, once itself a port, the sea having flowed
Sup to the market-place, where there was a har-
bour. The name of Swineshead is familiar
to every reader of English history, from its
having been the resting-place of King John,
after he lost the whole of his baggage, and
4i\ narrowly escaped with his life, when crossing
the marshes from Lynn to Sleaford, the castle
of which latter place was then in his posses-
S sion. The King halted at the Abbey, close
to the town of Swineshead, which place he
left on horseback; but being taken ill, was
moved in a litter to Sleaford, and thence to his castle at Newark, where
he died on the following day, in the year 1216.
Apart from this traditional interest, Swineshead has other anti-
quarian and historical associations. The circular Danish encampment,
sixty yards in diameter, surrounded by a double fosse, was, doubtless,
a post of importance, when the Danes, or Northmen, carried their
ravages through England in the time of Ethelred 1., and the whole
country passed permanently into the Danish hands about A.D. 877.
The incessant inroads of the Danes, who made constant descents on various
parts of the coast, burning the towns and villages, and layingwaste the
country in all directions, led to that stain upon the English character, the
Danish massacre. The troops collected to oppose these marauders always
lost courage and fled, and their leaders, not seldom, set them the example.
In 1002, peace was purchased for a sum of 24,000 and a large supply
of provisions. Meantime, the King and his councillors resolved to have
recourse to a most atrocious expedient for their future security. It had
been the practice of the English Kings, from the time of Athelstane, to
have great numbers of Danes in their pay, as guards, or household troops;
and these, it is said, they quartered on their subjects, one on each house.
The household troops, like soldiers in general, paid great attention to their
dress and appearance, and thus became very popular with the generality of
people; but they also occasionally behaved with great insolence, and were
also strongly suspected of holding secret intelligence with their piratical coun-
trymen. It was therefore resolved to massacre the Hus-carles, as they were
called, and their families, throughout England. Secret orders to this effect
were sent to all parts, and on St. Brice's day, November 13th, 1002, the
Danes were everywhere fallen on and slain. The ties of affinity (for many
of them had married and settled in the country) were disregarded; even
Gunhilda, sister to Sweyn, King of Denmark, though a Christian, was not
spared, and with her last breath she declared that her death would bring the
greatest evils upon England. The words of Gunhilda proved prophetic.
Sweyn, burning for revenge and glad of a pretext for war, soon made his
appearance on the south coast, and during four years he spread devastation
through all parts of the country, until the King Ethelred agreed to give him
30,000 and provisions as before for peace, and the realm thus had rest for



two years. But this short peace was but a prelude to further disturbances ;
and indeed for two centuries, dating from the reign of Egbert, England was
destined to become a prey to these fierce and fearless invaders.

The old Abbey of Swineshead was demolished in 1610, and the present
structure, known as Swineshead Abbey, was built from the materials.




EAUTIFUL seatm By rock and dell
There's not an inc in all thy course
I have not tracked I know thee well:
I know where Jaiosoms iae yellow gorse;
SI know where waves the pole linebell,
And where the odrchis ai violts dwell.
I know where the fobxgoe ears its head,
And where the heather tafs are spread;
I know where the meadow.-weets exhale,
And the white valerians lead the gale.
I know the spot the bees love best,
And where the linnet has built her nest.
I know the bushes the grouse frequent,
And the nookswhere the shy deer browse the bent.
I know each tree to thy fountain head-
The lady birches, sim and fair;

4'f c'

The feathery larch, the rowans red,
The brambles trailing their tangled hair;
And each is link'd to my waking thought
By some remembrance fancy-fraught.


Yet, lovely stream, unknown to
Thou hast oozed, and flow'd,
and leap'd, and run,
Ever since Time its course
Without a record, without aname.
I ask'd the shepherd on the hill-
He knew thee but as a common
I ask'd the farmer's blue-eyed
She knew thee but as a running
I ask'd the boatman on the shore
(He was never ask'd to tell be-
fore)- -B
Thou'wert a brook, and nothing
Yet, stream, so dear to me alone,
I prize and cherish thee none the less
That thou lowest unseen, unpraised, unknown,
In the unfrequented wilderness.
Though none admire and lay to heart
How good and beautiful thou art,
Thy flow'rets bloom, thy waters run,
And the free birds chaunt thy beison.
Beauty is beauty, though unseen;
And those who love it all their days,
Find meet reward in their soul serene,
And the inner voice of prayer and praise.

AVING surveyed
the various ob-
jects in Iona, we
So r- r saedt for a spot
f s.no less int erefst-
ing. Thousands
have seen Stas,
and theenads
have decided it.
Few, however,
Shave een it by
&rch or candle
ghtr% and in this
respect we difer
from most tourists. AR description, however,
of this far-famed wonder must be vain and
i fruitless. The shades of night were fast

descending, and had settled on the still waves and the little group of islets,
called the Treshnish Isles, when our vessel approached the celebrated
Temple of the Sea. We had light enough to discern its symmetry and pro-
portions ; but the colour of the rock-a dark grey-and the minuter graces
of the columns, were undistinguishable in the evening gloom. The great
face of the rock is the most wonderful production of nature we ever beheld.
It reminded us of the west front of York or Lincoln cathedral-a resem-
blance, perhaps, fanciful in all but the feelings they both excite-espe-
cially when the English minster is seen by moonlight. The highest point
of Staffa at this view is about one hundred feet; in its centre is the great
cave, called Fingal's Cave, stretching up into the interior of the rock a
distance of more than 200 feet. After admiring in mute astonishment
the columnar proportions of the rock, regular as if chiselled by the hand
of art, the passengers entered a small boat, and sailed under the arch.
The boatmen had been brought from lona, and they instantly set them-
selves to light some lanterns, and form torches of old ropes and tar, with
which they completely illuminated the ocean hall, into which we were
The complete stillness of the scene, except the low plashing of the
waves; the fitful gleams of light thrown first on the walls and ceiling, as
the men moved to and fro along the side of the stupendous cave; the
appearance of the varied roof, where different stalactites or petrifactions
are visible; the vastness and perfect art or semblance of art of the whole,
altogether formed a scene the most sublime, grand, and impressive ever
The Cathedral of lona sank into insignificance before this great temple
of nature, reared, as if in mockery of the temples of man, by the Al-
mighty Power who laid the beams of his chambers on the waters, and who
walketh upon the wings of the wind. Macculloch says that it is with the
morning sun only that the great face of Staffa can be seen in perfection;
as the general surface is undulating and uneven, large masses of light or
shadow are thus produced. We can believe, also, that the interior of the
cave, with its broken pillars and variety of tints, and with the green sea
rolling over a dark red or violet-coloured rock, must be seen to more advan-
tage in the full light of day. Yet we question whether we could have been
more deeply sensible of the beauty and grandeur of the scene than we were
under the unusual circumstances we have described. The boatmen sang
a Gaelic joram or boat-song in the cave, striking their oars very violently
in time with the music, which resounded finely through the vault, and
was echoed back by roof and pillar. One of them, also, fired a gun, with
the view of producing a still stronger effect of the same kind. When we
had fairly satisfied ourselves with contemplating the cave, we all entered
the boat and sailed round by the Clamshell Cave (where the basaltic columns
are bent like the ribs of a ship), and the Rock of the Bouchaille, or the herds-
man, formed of small columns, as regular and as interesting as the larger
productions. We all clambered to the top of the rock, which affords graz-
ing for sheep and cattle, and is said to yield a rent of 20 per annum to the
proprietor. Nothing but the wide surface of the ocean was visible from our
mountain eminence, and after a few minutes' survey we descended, returned
to the boat, and after regaining the steam-vessel, took our farewell look of
Staff, and steered on for Tobermory. Highland Note-Book.

I bi

t~n? ILk




HAVE always preferred cheerfulness to mirth. The
latter I consider as an act, the former as a habit of the
Smind Mirth is short and transient, cheerfulness fixed
and pemanent. Those are often raised into the greatest
tea.Ppor.ts of mirth, who are subject to the greatest
depeeions of melancholy: on the contrary, cheerful-
ness, though it does not give the mind such an exquisite
S gladne prevent s ie from falling into any depths of
sorrow. irth is like a flash of lightning, that breaks
through a gloom of clouds, and glitters for a moment;
Scheerfumes keeps up a kind of daylight in&e mind,
and fills it ih a steady and perpetual seinc y
M an f tr Mm as am look upon mith as too
Swanton md diueale fw a state of pmikrti and as
filed with a certain taph eal imalem of heart that as iaonsistent
with a life which i e sry mment a'adim to the ga t dangers.
Writers of this psies m e dwerwl, tt the C mad Person who
a s de great paotera of~ jed am r sm to Iagh.
eerfulner m mid isat ~stMe myeof ese ; it is of a
seri ad aop d ; ait Ate A me t a3w e d J iAto a condition
imupIer for te pment atne of itmmaity, ad is my msmpicuous in the
cheers of taeswhbiarel~dA ~a as dm e t l hers among
the heathen, as wel as mang thMe who heae b e edly esteemed
a mints and holy mmen m-l1g li0.
If we consider cheeirfda in m the ligm s, wh regrd to ourselves, to
those we converse with, and the gpmt Anter of owr being, it will not a
fidle recommend itself on each of thee aceom at. T'he -m who in pas-
mned of this excellent frame of mid, as not only easy in his thoughts,
Ibt a perfect master of all the powers and facuaies af the soul; his ima-
gation is always clear, and hi jmugment F disi ; his temper is even
adl -aa .d whether i action or solitale. He romes with a reish to
all tle ga whch i lhas pvided for rim, tates a the pemures
of the aeedties wld -e ed s h t im, mad dlm at f the full
weight of those -i~ --id e wl& miey blC hibm.
If we consider Vi a b ti o e eauo whIm he converses with,
it naturally produces love ad good-will towanhs hm. A cheerful mind is
not only disposed to be affable and obliging, ibt sm te te am sod-hu-
mour in those who come within itsinfluence. A R mA a hims ~ eased,
he does not know why, with the cheerfulness f IU Maoanion: t islike
a sudden sunshine, that awakens a secret delight ia te mind, without her
attending to it. The heart rejoices of its own a dad usta y flows
out into friendship and benevolence towards the person who has so kindly
an effect upon it.
When I consider this cheerful state of mind in its third relation, I can-
not but look upon it as a constant, habitual gratitude to the great Author
of nature.
There are but two things which, in my opinion, can reasonably deprive
us of this cheerfulness of heart. The first of these is the sense of guilt. A
man who lives in a state of vice and impenitence, can have no title to that


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