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The Illustrated London Reading Book by Various

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198, STRAND.



* * * * *


* * * * *


[Illustration: INTRODUCTION.]

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 speakers in a sense,
How few can soar to heights of eloquence!
The sweet melodious singer trills her lays,
And listening crowds go frantic in her praise;
But he who reads or speaks with feeling true,
Charms and delights, instructs, and moves us too.


To deprive Instruction of the terrors with which the young but too often
regard it, and strew flowers upon the pathways that lead to Knowledge,
is to confer a benefit upon all who are interested in the cause of
Education, 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 verse, 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 Pictorial
Representations, in illustration of the subjects. It is hoped that this
design has not been altogether unsuccessful, and that the ILLUSTRATED
LONDON 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

Amongst the other works of which the series will be composed, may be
mentioned, profusely Illustrated Volumes upon Geographical,
Astronomical, Mathematical, and General Science, as well as works
essential to the proper training of the youthful mind.

_January_, 1850.



Abbey, Account of Strata Florida
Adam and Eve in Paradise (MILTON)
Alfred, Anecdote of King (BEAUTIES OF HISTORY)
Alfred, Character of King (HUME)
Angling, Lines on (DOUBLEDAY)
Antioch, The Siege of (POPULAR DELUSIONS)
Artillery Tactics
Athens, Present Appearance of
Attock, Description of the Fort of

Bacon, Remarks on Lord (D'ISRAELI)
Balloons, Account of
Baltic, Battle of the (CAMPBELL)
Beetle, The
Bell, The Founding of the (MACKAY)
Bible, Value of the (BUCK)
Birds, Appropriateness of the Songs of (DR. JENNER)
Bower-Birds, Description of the
Bridges, Account of Tubular Railway
Bunyan's Wife, Anecdote of (LORD CAMPBELL)
Bushmen, Account of the

Caesar, Character of Julius (MIDDLETON)
Canada, Intense Cold of (SIR F. HEAD)
Canary, Account of the
Charity (PRIOR)
Chatterton, Lines by
Cheerfulness, Description of (ADDISON)
China, Account of the Great Wall of
Christian Freedom (POLLOCK)
Clarendon, Account of Lord
Cobra di Capello, Description of the
Condors, Account of
Cruelty to Animals, Wickedness of (JENYNS)
Culloden Battle-field, Description of (HIGHLAND NOTE-BOOK)
Cyprus, Description of

Danish Encampment, Account of a
Deity, Omniscience of the (ADDISON)
Dogs, A Chapter on
Dove, Return of the (MACKAY)

Edward VI., Character of (BURNET)
Elegy in a Country Churchyard (GRAY)
Elizabeth (Queen), at Tilbury Fort (ENGLISH HISTORY)
Envy, Wickedness of (DR. JOHNSON)

Faith's Guiding Star (ELIZA COOK)
Farewell (BARTON)
Filial Love (DR. DODD)
Fortitude (BLAIR)
Fox, Description of the Long-eared
Frederick of Prussia and his Page (BEAUTIES OF HISTORY)

Gambier Islanders, Account of
Gelert (W. SPENCER)
Gentleness, Character of (BLAIR)
Goldsmith, Remarks on the Style of (CAMPBELL)
Goliah Aratoo, Description of the
Greece, Isles of (BYRON)
Greece, The Shores of (BYRON)
Gresham, Account of Sir Thomas
Grief, The First (MRS. HEMANS)
Grouse, Description of the

Hagar and Ishmael, Story of
Hampden, Account of John
Hercules, The Choice of (TATLER)
Holly Bough (MACKAY)

Iguana, Description of the
Industry, Value of (BLAIR)
Integrity (DR. DODD)
Ivy in the Dungeon (MACKAY)

"Jack The Giant Killer," Origin of (CARLYLE)
Jalapa, Description of
Jewels, Description of the Crown
Joppa, Account of
Jordan, Description of the River
Jordan's Banks (BYRON)
Juggernaut, Account of the Car of

Kaffir Chiefs, Account of
Kaffir Letter-carrier, Account of
Kangaroo, Description of the
Knowledge, on the Attainment of (DR. WATTS)

Leopard, Description of the Black
Lighthouse, Description of Hartlepool
Lilies (MRS. HEMANS)

Mangouste, Description of the
Mariana (TENNYSON)
Mariners of England (CAMPBELL)
Martello Towers, Account of
Mary's (Queen) Bower, at Chatsworth
Microscope, Revelations of the (DR. MANTELL)
Midnight Thoughts (YOUNG)
Mill-stream, Lines on a (MARY HOWITT)
Music, Remarks on (USHER)

Napoleon, Character of (GENERAL FOY)
Nature and its Lord
Nature, The Order of (POPE)
Naval Tactics
Nests of Birds, Construction of (STURM)
Niagara, Account of the Falls of (SIR JAMES ALEXANDER)
Nightingale and Glowworm (COWPER)

Olive, Description of the
Othello's History (SHAKESPEARE)
Owls, Account of
Owls, (Two) and the Sparrow (GAY)

Palm-Tree, Account of the
Palm-Tree, Lines on a (MRS. HEMANS)
Parrot, Lines on a (CAMPBELL)
Patmos, Description of the Isle of
Paul and Virginia, Supposed Tombs of
Pekin, Description of
Peter the Hermit Preaching the First Crusade (POPULAR DELUSIONS)
Poetry, Rise of, among the Romans (SPENCE)
Polar Regions, Description of the
Pompeii, Account of
Poor, The Afflicted (CRABBE)
Pyramid Lake, Account of the

Railway Tunnels, Difficulties of
Rainbow, Account of a Lunar
Rattlesnake, Account of the (F.T. BUCKLAND)
Rome, Lines on (ROGERS)
Rookery, Dialogue about a (EVENINGS AT HOME)

Sardis, Description of
Schoolboy's Pilgrimage (JANE TAYLOR)
Seasons (THOMSON)
Shakspeare, Remarks on
Sheep, Description of Thibetan
Sierra Nevada, Description of the (FREMONT'S TRAVEL)
Siloam, Account of the Pool of
Sleep, Henry IV.'s Soliloquy on (SHAKSPEARE)
Sloth, Description of the
Smyrna, Description of
Staffa, Description of (HIGHLAND NOTE-BOOK)
Stag, The hunted (SIR W. SCOTT)
Starling, Story of a (STERNE)
St. Bernard, Account of the Dogs of (THE MENAGERIES)
St. Cecilia, Ode to (DRYDEN)
Stepping-stones, The (WORDSWORTH)
Stony Cross, Description of
Stream, the Nameless (MACKAY)
Study, Remarks on (LORD BACON)
Sun Fish, Capture of a (CAPTAIN BEDFORD, R.N.)
Sydney, Generosity of Sir Philip (BEAUTIES of HISTORY)

Tabor, Description of Mount
Tapir, Description of the
Telegraph, Account of the Electric (SIR F. HEAD)
Time, What is it? (REV. J. MARSDEN)
Turkish Customs
Tyre, the Siege of (LANGHORNE'S PLUTARCH)

Una and the Lion (SPENSER)
Universe, Grandeur of the (ADDISON)


Waterloo, Description of the Field of
Winter Thoughts (THOMSON)
Writing, On Simplicity in (HUME)

* * * * *


* * * * *


[Illustration: Letter N.]

Nothing could be more easy and agreeable than my condition when I was
first summoned to set out on the road to learning, and it was not
without letting fall a few ominous tears that I took the first step.
Several companions of my own age accompanied me in the outset, and we
travelled pleasantly together a good part of the way.

We had no sooner entered upon our path, than we were accosted by three
diminutive 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 grotesque: some were
striding across the path, others standing with their arms a-kimbo; some
hanging down their heads, others quite erect; some standing on one leg,
others on 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 diversity
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 encounter 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 descried 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 accoutred 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 succeeded 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 formidable.

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 defaced by them. Probably, we were now on the borders of
the Black Sea. These plains we travelled across and across for many a

Upon quitting this district, the country became far more dreary: it
appeared nothing but a dry and sterile region, the soil being remarkably
hard and slatey. 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 not 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 perplexing. However, it must be confessed
that every step we set in this country was less fatiguing and more
interesting. Our course at first lay all 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. Suffice it to say, that
the journey, though always arduous, has become more and more pleasant
every stage; and though, after years of travel and labour, 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 first
set us on the path, and to induce us to go forward courageously and
rejoicingly to the end of the journey.


* * * * *


Pekin, or Peking, a word which in Chinese means "Northern Capital," has
been the chief city 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 very 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 are of the most beautiful description, and,
surrounded by their own wall, form what is called the "Prohibited City."


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 suffering. 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

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 impossible to deny them
the praise they deserve for so great an exercise of perseverance and

* * * * *


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 various species 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.

[Illustration: GOLIAH ARATOO.]

From the general conformation of the parrots, as well as the arrangement
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. From the hooked shape of their bills, they find
it more convenient to turn their food in an outward direction, instead
of, like monkeys and other animals, turning it towards 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 spreading their
beautiful wings to dry in the sun.

* * * * *



[Illustration: Letter T.]

The deep affections of the breast,
That Heaven to living things imparts,
Are not exclusively possess'd
By human hearts.

A parrot, from the Spanish Main,
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.

For these he changed the smoke of turf,
A heathery land and misty sky;
And turn'd 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 and gold
His wings grew grey.

At last, when blind and seeming dumb,
He scolded, laugh'd, and spoke no more,
A Spanish stranger chanced to come
To Mulla's shore.

He hail'd the bird in Spanish speech,
The bird in Spanish speech replied:
Flapt round his cage with joyous screech--
Dropt down and died.


* * * * *


[Illustration: Letter T.]

'Tis true, said I, 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 vanishes, 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 repeated twice over; and looking up, I saw it was a
starling, hung in a little 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.

[Illustration: STARLING.]

I vow, I never had my affections more tenderly awakened; nor do I
remember 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 reasonings upon the
Bastile, and I heavily walked up-stairs unsaying every word I had said
in going down them.


* * * * *


[Illustration: Letter J.]

Juggernaut is the principal idol worshipped by the Hindoos, and to his
temple, which is at Pooree, are attached no less than 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, preaching in every
town and village the advantages of a pilgrimage to Juggernaut, after
which they conduct to Pooree large bodies of pilgrims for the Rath
Justra, or Car Festival, which takes place in May or June. This is the
principal festival, and the number of devotees 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 undergoes 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 image 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; the idols are then taken out by the
priests, Juggernaut having golden arms and diamond eyes for that one
day, 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 themselves under the wheels of the cars, appears to
have been an European conjecture, arising from the numerous deaths that
occur from accidents at the time the immense cars are in progress."

[Illustration: CAR OF JUGGERNAUT.]

These cars have an imposing air, from their great size and loftiness:
the wheels are six feet in diameter; but every part of the ornament is
of the meanest and most paltry description, save only the covering of
striped and spangled broad-cloth, the splendid and gorgeous effect of
which makes up in a great measure for other deficiencies.

During the period the pilgrims remain at Pooree they are not allowed to
eat anything but what has been offered to the idol, and that they have
to buy at a high price from the priests.

* * * * *


[Illustration: Letter C.]

Cyprus, an island in the Levant, is said to have taken its name from the
number of shrubs of that name with which it once abounded. From this
tall shrub, the cypress, its ancient inhabitants made an oil of a very
delicious flavour, which was an article of great importance 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 been erected for the purpose of preserving
the oil which the olive yielded.

Near the centre of the island stands Nicotia, the capital, and the
residence of the governor, who now occupies one of the palaces of its
ancient sovereigns. The palaces are remarkable for the beauty of their
architecture, but are abandoned by their Turkish masters to the
destructive hand of time. The church of St. Sophia, in this place, is
built in the Gothic style, and is said to have been erected by the
Emperor Justinian. Here the Christian Kings of Cyprus were formerly
crowned; but it is now converted into a mosque.

The island was formerly divided into nine kingdoms, and was 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
excessive, that persons going out without an umbrella are liable to
suffer from _coup de soleil_, or sun-stroke; and the inhabitants,
especially of the lower class, in order to guard against it, wrap up
their heads in a large turban, over which in their journeys they plait a
thick shawl many times folded. They seldom, however, venture out of
their houses during mid-day, and all journeys, even those of caravans,
are performed in the night. Rains are also rare in the summer season,
and long droughts banish vegetation, and attract numberless columns of
locusts, which destroy the plants and fruits.

[Illustration: CYPRUS.]

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 bread-tree, 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 and 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 Levant.

* * * * *


[Illustration: Letter T.]

This terrible reptile is found in great abundance on the continent of
America; and if its instinct induced it to make use of the dreadful
means of destruction and self-defence which it possesses, it would
become so great a scourge as to render the parts in which it is found
almost uninhabitable: but, except when violently irritated, or for the
purpose of self-preservation, it seldom employs the fatal power bestowed
upon it. The rattlesnake inserts its poison in the body of its victim by
means of two long sharp-pointed teeth or fangs, which grow one on each
side of the forepart of the upper jaw. The construction of these teeth
is very singular; they are hollow for a portion of their length, and in
each tooth is found a narrow slit communicating with the 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 his teeth in his
prey, a portion of this fluid is 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 mouth.

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 animals. 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, 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,
received in a warm glass, produce no visible effects, either in colour
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
something scalding or burning; but this sensation goes off in two or
three hours. There are only five cases on record of death following the
bite of the viper; and it has been observed that the effects are most
virulent when the poison has been received on the extremities,
particularly the fingers and toes, at which parts the animal, when
irritated (as it were, by an innate instinct), always takes its aim.


* * * * *


[Illustration: Letter A.]

After various adventures, Thor, accompanied by Thialfi and Loke, his
servants, entered upon Giantland, and wandered over plains--wild
uncultivated places--among stones and trees. At nightfall they noticed a
house; and as the door, which indeed formed one whole side of the house,
was open, they entered. It was a simple habitation--one large hall,
altogether empty. They stayed there. Suddenly, in the dead of the night,
loud voices alarmed them. Thor grasped his hammer, and stood in the
doorway, prepared for fight. His companions within ran hither and
thither, in their terror, seeking some outlet in that rude hall: they
found a little closet at last, and took refuge there. Neither had Thor
any battle; for lo! in the morning it turned out that the noise had been
only the snoring of a certain enormous, but peaceable, giant--the giant
Skrymir, who lay peaceably sleeping near by; and this, that they took
for a house, was merely his glove thrown aside there: the door was the
glove-wrist; the little closet they had fled into was the thumb! Such a
glove! I remark, too, that it had not fingers, as ours have, but only a
thumb, and the rest undivided--a most ancient rustic glove!

Skrymir now carried their portmanteau all day; Thor, however, who had
his suspicions, did not like the ways of Skrymir, and determined at
night to put an end to him as he slept. Raising his hammer, he struck
down into the giant's face a right thunderbolt blow, of force to rend
rocks. The giant merely awoke, rubbed his cheek, and said, "Did a leaf
fall?" Again Thor struck, as soon as Skrymir again slept, a better blow
than before; but the giant only murmured, "Was that a grain of sand!"
Thor's third stroke was with both his hands (the "knuckles white," I
suppose), and it seemed to cut deep into Skrymir's visage; but he merely
checked his snore, and remarked, "There must be sparrows roosting in
this tree, I think."

At the gate of Utgard--a place so high, that you had to 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 back, could not raise its feet off the
ground--could at the utmost raise one foot. "Why, you are no man," said
the Utgard people; "there is an old woman that will wrestle you." Thor,
heartily ashamed, seized this haggard old woman, but could not throw

[Illustration: THE GIANT SKRYMIR.]

And now, on their quitting Utgard--the chief Jotun, escorting them
politely a little way, said to Thor--"You are beaten, then; yet, be not
so much ashamed: there was deception of appearance in it. That horn you
tried to drink was the sea; you did make it ebb: but who could drink
that, the bottomless? The cat you would have lifted--why, that 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 ruin. 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!"


* * * * *


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 Crammer'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 Scriptures.

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_.

* * * * *


[Illustration: Letter T.]

There'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 design'd,
And gave the bird its thrilling tone;
Thy power the dew-drops' tints combined,
Till like a diamond's blaze they shone!

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

But 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 match'd 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
Somersetshire, 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 live 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 Zutphen, displayed the most
undaunted courage. He had two horses killed under 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 about mile and a half on
horseback to the camp; and being faint with the loss of blood, and
parched with thirst from the heat of the weather, he called for drink.
It was presently brought him; but, as he was putting the vessel to his
mouth, a poor wounded soldier, who happened to be carried along at that
instant, looked up to it with wistful eyes. The gallant and generous
Sydney took the flagon from his lips, just when he was going to drink,
and delivered it to the soldier, saying, "Thy necessity is greater than

Frederick, King of Prussia, one day rang his bell and nobody answered;
on which he opened the door and found his page fast asleep in an
elbow-chair. He advanced toward him, and was going to awaken, him, when
he perceived a letter hanging out of his pocket. His curiosity prompting
him to know what it was, he took it out and read it. It was a letter
from 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
telling; him that God would reward him for his dutiful affection. The
King, after having read it, went back softly into his chamber, took a
bag full of ducats, 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 page, who instantly made his appearance. "You have had a
sound sleep," said the King. The page was at a loss how to excuse
himself and, 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 care of both her
and you."

_Beauties 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. But a storm suddenly comes on; the roads are
rendered impassable by drifts of snow; the avalanches, which are huge
loosened masses of snow or ice, are swept into the valleys, carrying
trees and crags of rock before them.


The hospitable monks, though their revenue is scanty, open their doors
to every stranger that presents himself. To be cold, to be weary, to be
benighted, constitutes the title to their comfortable shelter, their
cheering meal, and their agreeable converse. But their attention to the
distressed 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 succeed
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 generally 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._

[Illustration: HEAD OF ST. BERNARD DOG.]

* * * * *


Joppa is the principal sea-port town of Palestine and it is very often
mentioned 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
disobedient 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.

[Illustration: JOPPA.]

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
Peccary 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 submerged 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
dislodging 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
pressed, never attempts to attack either man or beast; when, however,
the hunter's dogs surround it, it defends itself very vigorously with
its teeth, inflicting terrible wounds, and uttering a cry like a shrill
kind of whistle, which is in strange contrast with the massive bulk of
the animal.

[Illustration: AMERICAN TAPIR.]

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-bay tint
of the American, the Indian is strangely particoloured. The head, neck,
fore-limbs, 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 horse-cloth.

Though the flesh of both the Indian and American tapir is dry and
disagreeable 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 _chateau_, 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 preparing
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 Chateau 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 garden; while huge blackened beams, which have fallen
upon the crumbling heaps of stone and plaster, are lying in all

On the field of battle are two interesting monuments: one, to the memory
of the Hon. Sir Alexander Gordon, brother to the Earl of Aberdeen, 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.

[Illustration: FIELD OF WATERLOO]

* * * * *


[Illustration: Letter T.]

Two formal Owls together sat,
Conferring thus in solemn chat:
"How is the modern taste decay'd!
Where's the respect to wisdom paid?
Our worth the Grecian sages knew;
They gave our sires the honour due:
They weigh'd the dignity of fowls,
And pry'd into the depth of Owls.
Athens, the seat of earned fame,
With gen'ral voice revered 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 tell 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 destroy'd:
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."


* * * * *


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.


* * * * *


[Illustration: Letter H.]

Hark! 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,
His 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 vanish'd 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!_


[Illustration: FOUNDING OF THE BELL.]

* * * * *


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 harrassed troops, he combated a force of ten times their
number. The last flashes of Imperial lightning still dazzled the eyes of
our enemies; and it was a fine sight to see the bounds of the old lion,
tracked, hunted down, beset--presenting a lively picture of the days of
his youth, when his powers developed themselves in the fields of

Napoleon 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
obtained, 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 precisely this that renders the deceitful science of
conquerors so calamitous to nations.

[Illustration: NAPOLEON.]

Napoleon, though naturally adventurous, was not deficient in consistency
or method; and he wasted neither his soldiers nor his treasures where
the authority of his name sufficed. What he could obtain by negotiations
or by artifice, he required not by force of arms. 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
campaign 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 campaign, 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 prosecuting 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 nineteenth 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 conscious 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.


* * * * *



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 forms.
Most perfect most divine, had by consent
Flock'd thither to abide eternally
Within those silent chambers where they dwell
In happy intercourse?


* * * * *


[Illustration: Letter I.]

Is 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 service by destroying grubs, which, if suffered to grow to winged
insects, would injure the trees and plants.

_F_. Do all rooks live in rookeries?

_Mr. S._ It is their nature to associate together, and they build in
numbers of the same, or adjoining trees. They have no objection to the
neighbourhood of man, but readily take to a plantation of tall trees,
though it be close to a house; and this is commonly called a rookery.
They will even fix their habitations on trees in the midst of towns.

_F_. I think a rookery is a sort of town itself.

_Mr. S._ It is--a village in the air, peopled with numerous inhabitants;
and nothing can be more amusing than to view them all in motion, flying
to and fro, and busied in their several occupations. The spring is their
busiest time. Early in the year they begin to repair their nests, or
build new ones.

[Illustration: CROW.]

_F_. Do they all work together, 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 both birds go out at once in search of sticks, they often
find at their return the work all destroyed, and the materials carried
off. However, I have met with a story which shows that they are not
without some sense of the criminality of thieving. There was in a
rookery a lazy pair of rooks, who never went out to get sticks for
themselves, but made a practice of watching when their neighbours were
abroad, and helping themselves 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 not 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 when
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 attached to them, and when the trees happen
to be cut down, they seem greatly distressed, and keep hovering about
them as they are falling, and will scarcely desert them when they lie on
the ground.

_F_. I suppose they feel as we should 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 heavers. 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
regulations. 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._

[Illustration: A HERONRY.]

* * * * *


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 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 concentric blue and
yellow rings, like the "eyes" of a peacock's tail.

[Illustration: PALMS OF ARIMATHEA.]

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

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
beautiful than the other species.

* * * * *


[Illustration: Letter I.]

It 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,
'Midst foliage of no kindred hue:
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 look'd it there!--the willow stream'd
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.

There came an eve of festal hours--
Rich music fill'd that garden's bowers;
Lamps, 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 reckless all of dance or song:
He was a youth of dusky mien,
Whereon the Indian sun had been;
Of crested brow, and long black hair--
A stranger, like the Palm-tree, there.

And slowly, sadly, moved his plumes,
Glittering athwart the leafy glooms:
He pass'd the pale green olives by,
Nor won the chesnut flowers his eye;
But when to that sole Palm he came,
Then shot a rapture through his frame.

To him, to him its rustling spoke;
The silence of his soul it broke.
It whisper'd 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-note heard along the shore--
All through his wak'ning bosom swept:
He clasp'd his country's tree, and wept.

Oh! scorn him not. The strength whereby
The patriot girds himself to die;
The unconquerable power which fills
The foeman battling on his hills:
These have one fountain deep and clear,
The same whence gush'd that child-like tear!--


* * * * *


[Illustration: Letter N.]

Newfoundland Dogs are employed in drawing sledges laden with fish, wood,
and other articles, and from their strength and docility are of
considerable importance. The courage, devotion, and skill of this noble
animal in the rescue of persons from drowning is well known; and on the
banks of the Seine, at Paris, these qualities have been applied to a
singular purpose. Ten Newfoundland dogs are there trained to act as
servants to the Humane Society; and the rapidity with which they cross
and re-cross the river, and come and go, at the voice of their trainer,
is described as being most interesting to witness. Handsome kennels have
been erected for their dwellings on the bridges.

* * * * *


There is a breed of very handsome dogs called by this name, of a white
colour, thickly spotted with black: it is classed among the hounds. This
species is said to have been brought from India, and is not remarkable
for either fine scent or intelligence. The Dalmatian Dog is generally
kept in our country as an appendage to the carriage, and is bred up in
the stable with the horses; it consequently seldom receives that kind of
training which is calculated to call forth any good qualities it may

[Illustration: DALMATIAN DOG.]

* * * * *


The Terrier is a valuable dog in the house and 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
consume 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
determination 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. Hunting
the deer with a kind of greyhound of a larger size was formerly a
favourite diversion; and Queen Elizabeth was gratified by seeing, on one
occasion, from a turret, sixteen deer pulled down by greyhounds upon the
lawn at Cowdry Park, in Sussex.

[Illustration: HEAD OF THE GREYHOUND.]

* * * * *


The dog we now call the Staghound 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
extensive forests were the harbours of the wild deer. This hound, with
the harrier, were for many centuries the only hunting dogs.


* * * * *


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 teaching 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 eagerness, and
exhibits a sagacity, fidelity, and devotion rarely equalled even by man


* * * * *


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 expression 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 barbarous practice of
bull-baiting, so common in some countries, and but lately abolished in

[Illustration: HEAD OF THE BULL-DOG.]

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