•$t ':}tt1 f |s f i^7a Sf m r '■^ Si ■MwneMRDKse George Washington Flowers Memorial Collection DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY ESTABLISHED BY THE FAMILY OF COLONEL FLOWERS t' Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive in 2011 witii funding from DuWe University Libraries Iittp://www.archive.org/details/parleyspanoramao01good PRESENTATION OF FLAGS TO THE NATIONAL O0ARDS. I ^ {k: Urn OIV CURIOSITIES OF NATURE AND ART, 'mfmi Km m&6Mmj, '^ ^clu (T-Mtion, tuitlj ,|iu|]i:ob(iiuuts la lljc htcst batr. r.DITKI) BY S. G. GOODRICH 801.1) ONLY IIV SIIIISCUIPTION. SOCrAL CfROLE, GA.: K. N K I! II I! r A- i; i: o t II RRS. r- k-V^^M^^'C CONTENTS. Introduction, . . .... .7 CJkological Wonders, .8 The Hanks of the Nile, 10 The Chinese Wall, 1- The Kagle, 13 The Grand Chartreuse, . . . . • . IT) The Condor, 10 IJats, 17 'I'he Flamingo, IH Skkpknts, 1!) The American Panther, -0 The \\'alriis, t21 The British Museum, "'2 The Iguanodon 2'.i Loitii Hacon, 21 Chivalry, -('< The Lion 2S Charlks 11. OF England .'JO The Pelican, 3S Strasrurg Cathedral, 30 The Patagonians, 37 The Spectre of the Brocken 38 Diogenes, 39 The Locust, 41 Great Britain, 42 Hauoun al Kaschid, 43 The Crane 41 The Giant's Causeway, 4.'> The Maelstrom 40 The Manna Tree 47 Leaning Tower, 48 Stonehenge, 49 India Rubber Tree, 50 Fenelon, 51 The Passion-flower, 52 The French in Egypt, 53 The Mule 56 Mahomet, , 57 The Flat-headed Indians, 58 Saladin, 59 The Areopagus, 60 John Wesley, ......... 61 .Iacoh's Well, 62 Lafayette 63 Otho, 63 The Crucifixion, 64 Bethesda, 65 Mi(;ration of Birds, 66 Peter Butte's Mountain .... 68 Taou Kwang, 69 M. Dl'CORNET 79 The Alligator, 71 Bells, 72 73 74 76 The Hialto, . . . The Tiger, . . . Fingal's Cave, . . President's House, Talleyrand, . The Tiivffle, 79 The White Ass, 80 Grotto of Antiparos, 81 The Crusades, 82 Magna Charta, 84 \oHLE Deeds of Women, 85 The Wild Turkey, 89 The Moose, 00 The Zebra, . . . . ■ 91 The Tapir, 92 The Mustard Plant, 93 Marie Antoinette, 94 The Druids, 96 The Opossum, 98 Benjamin Franklin, 99 The Steeple-chase, 100 Round Towers of Ireland, 101 The Great Crater in the Moon, . . . 102 The Humble-bee, 103 The Mamertink Prison 104 Robin Goodfellow, 105 Water, 106 Neptune, Iii7 Matthew Hopkins 108 IT CONTENTS. Gassfndi, 109 The Polygars, 110 ApoLLONius Tyan-eus Ill Gall Insects, 114 Ancient Castles, 115 The Press, 110 The Afghans, 118 Kosciusko, 119 The Maple-tree Temple, 120 The Elephant, 121 English Loyalty and Royalty, . . . 122 Jerusalem, 124 Moscow AND St. Petersburg, . . . 127 Chinese Emperor's Barge, .... 128 Elizabeth of England, 129 New Zealand 131 Valley of Jkhoshaphat, 132 Savages of Brazil, 133 JoppA, or Jaffa, 134 Shakspeare, 135 Monkey Orators, 130 Seeing, 137 Hearing, 138 Tasting 139 Touch, ,140 Smelling, 141 Mount Carmel, 142 Mocking-bird, 143 Oliver Goldsmith, 144 Isabella of Spain, 145 Bethlehem, 150 Mrs. Washington, 151 Joan of Arc, 155 Mount Vesuvius, 157 ASKELON, 158 Mehemet Ali, 159 Orang-outang, 160 Red Jacket, 161 , Frogs, 164 I The Zebu, 165 Varieties of Dogs, 166 The Date-tree 167 Logan, 168 Jericho, 171 Patient Grissel, 172 ychoalay, 174 The Meteor Monks, J~6 Constantinople, 1 '' The Zodiac, 178 The Indians of Nootka Sound, . . . 179 The Royal Oak, 180 The Mines of PoTOSi, 181 The Beaver, 182 Ingenious Contrivances of Nature, . 183 The Indian Voltaire, 185 The Palisadoes 189 Quetzalcoatl, ........ 190 The Star-fish, ' . . . 191 The Bheels 192 The Alps, 193 The Monkey Beggar, 195 Shops in London 196 Guy Fawkes, 197 Landseer's Dogs, 199 Pierre Ramus, 200 Punch and Judy, 202 Toad-stools and Mushrooms, .... 203 Comparative Size of Animals, . . . 204 ! Perils of the Wilderness, . . . 209 The Prophet Jeremiah, ... . 200 The Otter, 207 The Sugar-cane, . 209 Solon, 210 The Stag, , 211 The Pyramids OF Egypt, ... . 214 The Snail, . 215 Ale.xander Selkirk, 216 Sea-weed, 219 The Monkey Family, .... . 220 The Banana, . 227 Napoleon's last Funeral, 228 Gaza 230 City of Ancient Babylon, 231 Walled Cities, 233 The Bi'CCANEERS, 233 Skeleton of a Bird, 237 Martin Luther, . . 238 Frederick the Great, 246 Arnold's March to Quebec, .... 250 ToussAiNT L'Ouverture, . . . . 254 El Dorado, 258 Pope Julius II., 263 Tippoo Saib, 264 Migration of Wild Geese 265 Sources of History, .... . 266 Passage of Mountains in India, . . . 268 Eugene Aram, 269 Genghis Khan, 274 The Giraffe, 275 Heathen Mythology, 276 London, 279 Saint Rosalia, 280 Constantinople, 281 Wonders within a Plant, . . . 282 Bolivar 284 The Rock of Gibraltar, 289 Mineral Coal, 290 Brussels, • .... 291 The Nests of Birds, 292 Adventure with a Lion, • 293 Artesian Wells, 295 Francia, the Dictator, 296 An Indian Giant, 302 Tecumseh, 303 Abyssinia, 304 Falls of Niagara 305 The Sloth, 307 The Scorpion, 308 The Rhinoceros, 309 The Bamboo, 310 The Crocodile 311 The Spider, 312 Pocahontas, 313 The Juniper-tree, 315 Siamese Twins ; 316 Pascal, 317 Caspar Hauser, 319 Daniel Lambert, 321 The Leopard, 322 The Asp, Luminous Plants and Animals, . Deserts of Africa and Asia, The Prong-horned Antelope, Covent-Garden Flower-market, The Leming, . 323 . 324 327 . 328 . 329 . 330 The Indian Dandy 331 WV^/^>^^i^)|| CONTENTS. The Chinchilla 332 The Ocelot, 333 Charlotte (^orday, 334 Chinese Dandy, 330 Jdhn Howard, 337 The Desman, 338 Amusing Anecdotes, 339 The Conjusiitiiis Diitcliman, .... 33!) The Duke of Norfolk, 340 A Child's Answer, 340 Benevolent Singer 341 Too Late, 341 Ciiiiine Pride, 341 The Deaf Mother 341 Rcadinn-, 341 Witty Thief, 34 1 Cnrions Excise Entry, 341 Advertisement, 341 Tobacco, 342 A Simple Question, 342 A Pun, 342 Chester in an Uproar, 342 Patrick Henry, 343 Hirrhwayinan and Sailor, 343 Four Merry Fellows, 313 Lnuchter no Proof of a Merry Heart, . 313 Mosiinilocs 344 Superstition of Sailors, 3 I'l Georse IV., 3I.''> Georfje HI., 310 Marshal Tnrenne, 34(i Cyrus of Persia, 340 Gen. Wolfe 31G Forcible Argument, 340 Louis XVL, 347 Ronaparte, 347 Magnanimity of Frederick the Great, . 347 A French Minister 317 Henry IV 347 CHANnALAH.S, 348 Carrier Dove, 34!t Coral, 350 Camphor Tree, 3.')I The Nilo.meter, 3.12 H011ILLA.S, S.'iS The Dodo S.'il Fakirs OF HiNDOSTAN 3o5 The Seal, 3.50 Tree House in Caefraria, 357 The Dalmatian Dog, 358 Lady Hester Stanhope, 350 Indian Fishino in South America, . . 300 Sir Christopher Wren, ..... 301 Queen Margaret and the Robber, . . 302 January, 304 February, 365 March, 260 April, 367 May, 308 JlNE 300 July, . Au(;usT, 370 371 September, 372 October, 373 November, 374 December 375 William Tell, 370 Fairies, . . 377 The Chiefs of Scinde, . . . Paul, the Apostle The Coney, The Princess RosETTA, . . . Mount St. Bernard, . . . Barnacles, The ('hamois, The Owl, Hindoo Jugglers, Hawking in the Middle Ages, Boa Constrictor, .... Hippopotamus, The Great Bustard, . . . Christmas, Great Trees, Lord Byron, Papua, The Use of Telescopes, . . The Water-spout, .... Spectral Illusions, .... A Monster of the Deep, . . Robert Fulton, The Domestic Buffalo, . . The Llama, Tournaments, California The First French Revolution, Montezuma, .•\ttila, John Marshall, Aqueducts, A Swiss Girl, The Deluge, The Blue Jay, Mount Auburn, The Nautilus, The Horse, The Javanese Tiger-beetle, .... Daniel Webster J(HiN Caldwell Calhoun, The City of Bagdad, The Smithsonian Institute, .... Marco Bozzaris, The Kamtskadales, Comets, Railways, Ruins of Central America, .... Louis Philippe, The Hotel de Ville of Paris, . . . The French Revolution of 1848, . . The President of the French Republic, Snow Crystals, Knowledge of the Inferior Animals, . Mountains, Heidelberg, John Hampden, Faneuil Hall, The Musk-o.v, Greenwood Cemetery, .\dventures in India, Frankincense, The Colosseum at Rome, King Alfred's Seal The Balloon, Peter the Hermit, Ship-building, 1 The Mammoth Cave, Kentucky, . . I The American Revolutionary War, . 378 379 380 381 385 386 387 388 300 392 393 394 395 396 397 398 400 401 402 403 404 405 406 407 408 409 419 422 423 424 425 428 429 431 432 439 440 440 441 445 446 446 448 449 450 452 454 456 460 463 478 480 481 482 483 484 485 487 488 489 490 490 491 492 496 497 499 502 CONTENTS. The Northmen in America, .... POTOSI, Hunting Wild Animals, on the Pampas, The Dead Sea, George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, JiMEs Monroe, John Qi'iNCY Adams Andrew Jackson, Martin Van Buren, William Henrv Harrison, .... John Tyler, James Knox Polk, Zachary Taylor, Shipwrecks, War of 1812 with England, .... Wonders of the Honey-bee, .... Thl War with Mex.ico, Murder of Miss Macrea, Fernando Cortez, Chevy-Chase, St. Peter's Church, at Rome, . . . Henry Clay, The Esquimaux, Ruins ok Ancient Cities, The Eastern War, Ten Thousand Facts, of Memorabilia WoKDERS OF Half a Centuky, . . . 511 Dreams, 548 513 The Thames Tunnel, 549 514 The Nyl-ghau, 550 515 The Iron Mask, 551 51fi Walter Scott, 552 518 Mary, Queen OF Scots, 654 519 Alexander the Great, 556 520 Cromwell, 558 521 The Pearl Fishery, 559 521 Queen Victoria, 5fi0 522 Hotanical Wonders, 561 523 Lamartine, 602 523 Pitcairn's Island, . 563 524 Pompeii, 564 525 Miscellaneous Curiosities, .... 565 526 Curiosities ok Geology, 569 527 Manias, 671 529 Father Mathew, 572 534 Abd-el-Kader, 574 537 Thiers, 575 540 The Vulture 570 541 Cleopatra's Needle, 677 542 Whales, 578 543 The Ant-eater, 580 544 The Palace ok Fontaineeleau, . . . 581 545 Pope Pius IX., 582 546 The Colossus of Rhodes, 583 584 OE THE Nineteenth Century, 583 604 ^ i^» a v%%/w^'^^^K^^^^'v^^.'^ ^ CURIOSITIES OF NATURE AND ART, lEIirS^OiaY AHID BltDdiaAlPIEIY. INTRODUCTION. It lias been oftnn said that truth is more won(]crfnl than fiction. The force of this nhscrvation is manifest to tlioso who iiave a liheral acquaintanre with hoolis, or have otherwise stored their minds from the £jreat treasuries of human knowledge and expe- rience. To the iy species — the teal, the widgeon, the mallaid, and others — are seen passing with great rapidity, and following the course of the current ; but the eagle heeds them not ; they are at that time be- neath his attention. The next moment, however, the wild, trumpet-like sound of a yet distant but approaching swan is heard. A shriek from the female eagle comes across the stream ; for, she is fully as alert as her mate. The latter suddenly shakes the whole of his body, and with a few touches of his bill, aided by the action of his cuticular mus- iles, arranges his plumage in an instant. The snow-white bird is now in sight; he! long neck is stretched forward ; her eye is on the watch, vigilant as that of her enemy , her large wings seem with difficulty to sup- port the weight of her body, although they flap incessantly. So irksome do her exer- tions seem, that her very legs are spread beneath her tail to aid her flight. She ap- proaches. The eagle has marked her for his prey. As the swan is passing the dreaded pair, the male bird starts from his perch, in full preparation for the chase, with an awful scream, that to the swan's ear brings more terror than the report of the large duck-gun. " Now is the moment to witness the eagle's powers. He glides through the air like a falling star, and like a flash of lightning comes upon the timorous quarry, which now, in agony and despair, seeks by various ma- noeuvres to elude the grasp of his cruel tal- ons; it mounts, doubles, and would plunge into the stream, were it not prevented by the eagle, which, long possessed of the knowl- edge that by such a stratagem the swan might escape him, forces it to remain in the air, by attempting to strike it with his talons from beneath. The hope of escape is soon given up by the swan. It has already be- come much weakened, and its strength fails at the sight of the courage and swiftness of its antagonist. Its last gasp is about to escape, when the ferocious eagle strikes with his talons the under side of its wing, and with unresisted power forces the bird to fall ina slanting direction upon the nearestshore. '' It is then that you see the sjiirit of this dreaded enemy of the feathered race, whilst, exulting over his prey, he for the first time breathes at ease. He presses down his powerful feet, and drives his shai-p claws deeper than ever into the heart of the dying swan. He shrieks with delight as he feels the last convulsions of his prey, which has now sunk under his unceasing efforts." Fish, as we have said, forms no incon- siderable part of the diet of the White-headed Eagle ; not that he often procures it by his own honest exertions, though occasionally he manages to obtain a few in shallow creeks; but he lives by the " law of might," availing himself of the labors of others, and especially of the osprey, or fish-hawk — an assiduous and patient fisher. Wilson describes this act of marauding violence with a master's BATS. 17 his brood, and looks down upon the plains beneath, yet far away, for food. Like the rest of its family, it subsists on carrion, and gorges itself to disgusting repletion, so as to become incapable of flight. In this state it is often captured, and tlie Indians are ac- customed to e.\pose the dead body of a cow or horse, so as to attract the notice of these birds as they are seen sailing in the sky. Down they sweep, and glut themselves with the luxurious banquet, when lo ! the Indians appear with their lassos, throw them with unerring certainty, and gallop away, drag- ging after them the ensnared victims. These gigantic birds, contrary to what has been asserted, are far from being formidable ; they are not ferocious, and their talons are too feeble to lacerate ; neither can they carry away, from this cause, weights which prove no impediment to the eagle. The natives do not fear tliem, and are accustomed, with their clildren, to sleep near their resort, exposed to attack, were such ever to be apprehended. Of the strength of the Condor, and its tenacity of life, we have many authentic accounts. Captain Head gives the narrative of a struggle between one of his Cornish miners and a Condor, gorged too heavily for flight, and therefore not in the best state for the fray. The miner began by grasping the neck of the bird, which he tried to break ; but the bird, roused by the unceremonious attack, struggled so violently as to render that no easy matter; nor after an hour's wrestling, though the miner brought away several of the wing feathers in token of victory, does it appear that the bird was despatched. M. Humboldt relates, "that, during his stay at Kiobamba, he was present at some experiments which were made on one by the Indians, who had taken it alive. They first strangled it with a lasso, and hanged it on a tree, pulling it forcibly by the feet for several minutes ; but scarcely was the lasso removed, when the bird arose and walked about, as though nothing had happened to it. It was then shot with three balls, discharged from a pistol at less than four paces, all of which entered its body, and wounded it in the neck, chest, and abdomen ; it still, however, kept its legs; another ball struck its thigh, and it fell to the ground, but it did not die of its wounds until after an interval of half an hour." BATS. \ These creatures, partaking both of the nature of quadrupeds and birds, have excited the wonder of mankind in all ages. There is a great variety of species, from the com- mon bat of our climate to the vampyre of I South America, whose wings stretch to the extent of two feet. These animals live in caves and crevices during the day, and sally forth at evening to catch their prey. For this reason, there is a popular disgust of the whole tribe ; yet the species among us are a harmless race. We cannot say as 18 THE FLAMINGO. much of the larger kinds, which sometimes darken the air, by their abundance, in hot climates. One species, already mentioned, is a formidable animal. Captain Stedman, in his " Narrative of a Five Years' Expedition against the revolted Negroes of Surinam," relates that, on awak- ing about four o'clock one morning in his hammock, he was extremely alarmed at finding himself weltering in congealed blood, and without feeling any pain whatever. " The mystery was," says Captain Sted- man, " that I had been bitten by the vam- pyre, or spectre of Guiana, which is also called the Flying-Dog of New Spain; and by the Spaniards, perrovolador. This is no other than a bat of monstrous size, that sucks the blood from men and cattle, while they are fast asleep, even, sometimes, till they die ; and, as the manner in which they proceed is truly wonderful, I shall endeavor to give a distinct account of it. " Knowing, by instinct, that the person they intend to attack is in a sound slumber, they generally alight near the feet, where, while the creature continues fanning with his enormous wings, which keeps one cool, he bites a piece out of the tip of the great toe, so very small, indeed, that the head of a pin could scarcely be received into the wound, which is, consequently, not painful; yet, through this orifice, he continues to suck the blood, until he is obliged to dis- gorge. He then begins again, and thus continues sucking and disgorging until he is scarcely able to fly, and the sufferer has often been known to pass from time to eter- nity. Cattle they generally bite in the ea.-, but always in places where the blood flows spontaneously. Having applied tobacco ashes as the best remedy, and washed the gore from myself and hammock, I observed several small heaps of congealed blood, all round the place where I had lain, upon the ground ; on examining which, the surgeon judged that I had lost at least twelve or fourteen ounces of blood." " Some years ago," says Mr. Waterton, in his " Wanderings in South America," "I went to the river Paumaron, with a Scotch gentleman, by the name of Tarbet. We hung our hammocks in the thatched loft of a planter's house. Next morning, I heard thi.'! gentleman muttering in his hammock, and now and then letting fall an impreca- tion or two, just about the time he ought to have been saying his morning prayers. ' What is the matter, sir ? ' said I, softly ; ' is anything amiss ? ' ' What 's the matter ? ' answered he, surlily ; ' why, the vampyres have been sucking me to death.' As soon as there was light enough, I went to his hammock, and saw it much stained with blood. ' Tiiere,' said he, thrusting his foot out of the hammock, ' see how these infernal imps have been drawing my life's blood.' On examining his foot, I fo'irid the vampj're had tapped his great toe. There was a wound somewhat less than that made by a leech. The blood was still oozing from it. I conjectured he might have lost from ten to twelve ounces of blood. Whilst examin- ing it, I think I put him into a worse humor, by remarking that a European surgeon would not have been so generous as to have blooded him without making any charge. He looked up in my face, but did not say a word. I saw he was of opinion that I had better have spared this piece of ill-timed levity." THE FLAMINGO. This bird resembles the family of cranes in its long neck and legs ; but in many other respects it is quite diflcrent. It is taller and larger, and being of a bright scarlet color, is more gaudy. Its body is about the size of a swan, but such is the enormous length of its neck and legs, that when it stands upright, it is six feet and a half high. This strange bird was formerly '.bund in Europe, but its beauty, size, ant' delicate flesh, caused it to be hunted so riuch, that it has nearly disappeared there. Alor.g the southern waters of the United StaU.s, and around the Gulf of Mexico, it is common. It has, however, become very ^atc'iful, and is not easily killed. SERPENTS. Serpents are not favorites ; they appear, HI all countries and all ap-es, to be hatcil by man. This arises, donbtless, from the .'iteaJthy, gliding character of the race, and from the venomous qualities which belong to a large part of the species. Perhaps, too, wo owe these creatures a grndge, from the trick which was played olT upon our mother Eve, by a certain personage, who took the guise of a serpent. At all events, no expression of detestation can be stronger than that conveyed by the proverb, — "A \ snake in the grass ! " / Nevertheless, an amusing chapter might < be made upon serpents. For the present, > however, we content ourselves with a few I extracts, remarking, by the way, that no 5 department of nature seems more varied 5 than this, as we have serpents of all colors, { and all sizes, from an inch to fifty feet in length. It is probable, in early times, when the arts were little known, and mankind were but thinly scattered over the earth, that serpents — continuing undisturbed possess- ors of the forest — grew to an amazing mag- nitude, so that every other tribe of animals fell before them. We have many histories ';' of antiquity, presenting us such u picture ; '■ and exhibitinrr a wliole nation sinking under the ravages of a single serpent. We are told, that while Rpgulus led his army along the banks of the river Bagmda, in Africa, an enormous serpent disputed his passage over ! We are assured by Pliny, wiio says that he himself saw the skin, that it wfis a i hundred and twenty feet long, and that it < had destroyed many of the army. At last, > however, the battering engines were brought | r-ut against it, and these assailing it from a t distance, it was soon destroyed. { Leguat assures us that he saw a serpent i in Java that was fifty feet long and Carli > mentions their growing to above forty feet. 5 Mr. Wentworth, who had large concerns in | Guiana, assures us that in that country 5 they grow to an enormous length. He one j day sent out a soldier with an (ndian to kill a wild fowl, for the table ; and they accord- ingly went some miles from the fort. In pursuing their game, the Indian, who gen- erally marched before, beginning to tire, went to rest himself upon the f.illen trunk of a tree, as he supposed it to be ; but when he was just going to sit down, the enormous monster began to move, and the poor sav- age, perceiving that he had approached a Liboya, the greatest of all the serpent kind, dropped down in an agony of fear. 20 THE AMERICAN PANTHER. The soldier, who perceived at some dis- tance what had happened, levelled at the serpent's head, and, by a lucky aim, shot it dead. However, he continued his fire until he was assured that the animal was killed ; and then, going up to rescue his i companion, who was fallen motionless by 5 its side, he, to his astonishment, found him I dead likewise, being killed by the fright ! J Upon his return to the fort, and telling what had happened, Mr. Wentworth or- dered the animal to be brought up, when it was measured, and found to be thirty-si.x feet long. In the East Indies serpents grow also to an enormous size ; particularly in the island of Java, where we are assured that one of them will destroy and devour a buflalo. In a letter printed in the German Epheme- rides, we have an account of a combat be- tween an enormous serpent and a buffiilo, by a person who assures us that he was himself a spectator. The serpent had for some time been waiting near the brink of a pool, in expectation of its prey, when a buffalo was the first that ofTered. Havnig darted upon the affrighted animal, it in- stantly began to wrap it round with its voluminous twistings ; and at every twist the bones of the buffalo were heard to crack almost as loud as the report of a cannon. It was in vain that the poor animal strug- gled and bellowed ; its enormous enemy entwined it too closely to get free ; till at length all its bones being mashed to pieces, like those of a malefactor on the wheel, and the whole body reduced to one uniform mass, the serpent untwined its folds to swallow its prey at leisure. To prepare for this, and in order to make the body slip down the throat more readily, it was seen to lick the whole body over, and thus cover it with its mucus. It then began to swallow it at that end that offered least resistance, while its length of body was dilated to re- ceive its prey, and thus it took in at once a morsel that was three times its own thick- ness ! { THE AMERICAN PANTHER. This animal goes under the various names of the American lion, the Ameri- can panther, the puma, the cougar, the catamount, and the painter. He is peculiar to this continent, roaming over the woods of both North and South America. He ha.-> great strength, being able to carry off" a slieep or deer at a gallop ; but he prefers rather to live ty his wit than his povifer. He always creeps upon his victim with a sly and noiseless step, and when at a proper distance, rushes upon it with a bound, and grapples it with his formidable claws and teeth. The panther was once common in New England ; but he has now emigrated westward. A great many adventures have taken place with this creature in the woods. We can give but one of the stories told of it. " Two hunters, accompanied by two dogs, went out in quest of game, near the Catskill Mountains. At the foot of a large hill, they THE WALRUS. 21 i agreed to go round it in opposite directions, and when either discharged his rifle, the other was to hasten towards him, to aid in securing the game. Soon after parting, the report of a rifle was heard by one of them, who, hastening towards the spot, after some search, found nothing but the dog, dreadfully lacerated and dead. He now be;ame much alarmed for the fate of his companion, and while anxiously look- ing around, was horror-struck by the harsh growl of a cougar, which he perceived on a large limb of a tree, crouching upon the body of his friend, and apparently medi- tating an attack on himself. Instantly he levelled his rifle at the beast, and was so fortunate as to wound it mortally, when it fell to the ground, along with the body of his slaughtered companion. His dog then rushed upon the wounded cougar, which with one blow of its paw laid the poor animal dead by its side. The surviving hunter now left the spot, and quickly re- turned with several other persons, when they found the lifeless cougar extended near the dead bodies of the hunter and the faithful dog." ■^A THE WALRUS. There is only one species of this re- ;: niarkabie animal, yet the singularity of its appearance has procured for it a variety of names, as the morse, the sea-cow, the sea-horse, &c. The only animal which it resembles is the seal. It has two large tusks growing out of the upper jaw, directed down- wards. From the high latitudes to which the walrus is chiefly couiincd, there has been but little ascertained respecting it. It is not even known with certainty upon what it feeds. Some suppose its food to be en- tirely animal ; whilst others have represented it as feeding upon sea-weed. It is probable, however, that it may turn over the sea-weed with its long tusks, to dislodge the animals upon which it feeds from the rocks. The walrus is sometimes found eighteen feet long, with tusks about two feet in length. Its general color is brown. It is a social animal, and resorts in gTe?.t number* to favorite places on the far northern coast, where it lies on rocks and icebergs, till hunger compels it to resort to the water for food. It is not active on land, but it> tusks enable it to climb up high banks with facility. The walrus is esteemed for the oil which it afl!l)rds. Their tusks also are very valu- able. They are hunted for these articles, the ivory being harder and whiter than that of the clepliant. When one of these animals is encountered on the ice, or in the water, the h\mtcr strikes him with a strong harpoon made expressly for this purpose. The animal is then drawn to the nearest flat iceberg. They then flay him, separate the two tusks from the head, cut out the fat, and' carry it to the vessel. A walrus will furnish half a ton of oil. ^~»« THE BRITISH MUSEUM. This vast establishment is situated in Great Russell street, Bloomsbury, London. It consists of an immense collection of specimens in natural history, ancient coins and medals, ancient manuscripts, paintintjs, sculptures, and antiquities, Grecian, Roman, | Egyptian, &c. This institution originated, many years since, in individual and private collections ; these were purchased by gov- ernment, and the establishment, having become a national one, has been liberally endowed, and is now the most splendid assemblage of curiosities in the world. It consists of a sufficient number of rooms almost to make a village, and in these the specimens are arranged in the manner deemed most convenient for public exhibi- tion and the use of persons who wish to avail themselves of the collection for study. It is open to the public, and is, in fact, a great resort, not only for the learned, but for the people at large, from the nobleman i to the mechanic. ' Another institution of great interest, and | THE IGUANODON. 23 01 similar design, is the Sloanean Museum, devoted to architecture. The engraving at the head of this article presents one of the rooms in this edifice, which in fact is the former residence of Sir John Sloan, the originator of the institution. It is situated in Lincoln's Inn fields, and is fitted np with great skill and spendor for its present object. The apartment represented in the en- graving is called the sarcopha^is room, on account of its being the place of deposit for the celebrated alabaster colhn, brought from is covered inside and out with hieroglyhic paintings. This curiosity was brought from the caves of Gournon, on the banks of the Nile, and no doubt, from the vast labor bestowed upon its construction, was the sepulchre of some rich and famous person. When dis- covered, however, it was vacant — the re- mains which it once enclosed having been, doubtless, carried away. The price paid for this specimen of art was ten thousand dollars ! It has been called Alexander's, Egypt by the renowned traveller and ex- lonrb, but there are no grounds for such a plorer, Belzoni. It is finely chiselled, and designation. THE IGUANODON. We have already mentioned this mon- ster, of which the race is now extinct. His bones were discovered in the south of Eng- land, by Dr. Rlantel, a celebrated geologist. From an examination of tlie teeth, the iguanodon must have lived upon vegetables. He was in fact an immense lizard, 70 feet in length, and 14 in circumference. Though his legs were short, the thigii-bone was 22 inches round, at the smallest part. On the nose the animal had a horn, something like that of a rhinoceros. Along his back was a row of spines, like those of the iguana, found in South America and the West Indies. We can conceive of nothing more terrible than the appearance of this creature, when alive. A crocodile or alligator is a frightful object, especially when roused to action ; but how much more so must have been tho iguanodon, with his enormous teeth, his bristling spines, and his horned snout, con- sidering also that he was five times larger than the largest crocodile ever known. Although few specimens of the bones of the iguanodon liave been found, we know that at a former age of the world there must have been many of these creatures; and at the same time there were other wonderful animals, fit to be neighbors and companions of such monsters. Indeed, ages ago, the world seems to have been filled with strange, uncouth creatures. Jlost of these disap- peared before the creation of man, (hough some remained to a later period. Of the latter, we may mention the Mastodon, re sembling the elphant. LORD BACON. This celebrated man was bom at York- j, House, in the Strand, London, January 22, 1561. His father, Nicholas Bacon, was an eminent lau'yer, and lord-keeper of the great seal, during the first twenty years of Elizabeth's reign. In boyhood, Francis Bacon was remark- able for sprightliness, and the smartness of his observations. The queen, who was much taken with him, used to try him with questions on various subjects. Upon one occasion, she asked him how old he was ; his reply conveyed an ingenious compli- ment. " I am just two years younger than your majesty's happy reign," said he. This occurred when he was about six years old. We know little of Bacon's early educa- tion ; but as his father was a distinguished .statesman, and his mother a woman of superior mind, as well as of learning and piety, there is little doubt that he had every advantage. In his thirteenth year, he was sent to Trinity College, Cambridge, where he studied with diligence and success. On leaving Cambridge, Bacon entered Gray's-Inn, as a student at law. He soon after went to Paris, in the suite of the British ambassador, and travelled in several countries on the continent. His father died in 1579 ; he then returned to London, and found that he was the only one of the family unprovided for. This compelled him to rely upon his ovni efforts. He de- voted himself earnestly to the study of the law ; but yet the love of philosophy was m him, and at this early period he planned his great work, the Orgaium, and which, LOED BACON. 25 in the exultation of his youthful fancy, he proposed to call The greatest Birth of Time. In 1592, Bacon was returned to parlia- ment for tlie county of Middlesex, and dis- tinguished himself in the debates by taking the popular side. In 1596, he published his " Essays, or Counsels, Civil and Jloral," a work full of profound thought and useful observation. He was now in very embar- rassed circumstances, and sought to mend them by a rich marriage. In this he failed, and was twice arrested for debt. ; Upon the accession of James I., in 1603, ; his fortunes brightened. He had taken un- wearied pains, by writing to various indu- ential persons in Scotland, to have himself recommended to the king ; and in this he was successful. His majesty came to Lon- don prepossessed in his favor, and soon be- stowed upon him the honor of knighthood. He now rose rapidly, as well in his profession as in preferment. He was made solicitor- general, and held other offices. About 1607, he married Alice Barnum, daughter of a rich alderman of London. Determined to lose no opportunity to pay his court to the king, and now being attor- ney-general, he took measures for the con- viction of an aged minister of the gospel, by tlic name of Peacham, whicii has stamped his memory with indelible shame. This clergyman was apprehended for having in his possession a written sermon, in which it was alleged there were some treasonable passages. It was desired by the court that he should be punished, but the proof was inadequate. The practice of torture, for the purpose of obtaining evidence, had been common in the civil courts of England, though it was not theoretically avowed by the law. Bacon, however, gave his opinion in favor of torture in the present case, and the old minister was put to the rack. He, however, would confess nothing, and Bacon complained to the king that he had a "dumb devil." The proof being insuflicient, the attorney-general did not now hesitate to tamper with the judges, and attempt to persuade them to convict the prisoner. In this he failed, and accordingly the brave old man, not being ex-ocuted, was permitted the grace of drawing out his miserable existence in gaol. What tales of horror linger in the prisons of pious kings and holy judges ! Though involved in politics, and a sedu- lous courtier, as well as an active lawyer, Bacon still found time to cultivate philoso- phy, and at dilferent periods published sev- eral works, all displaying wonderful powers of mind, and seeming to show habits of thought, and a current of feeling, utterly at variance with the life he led. He passed through various stages of preferment, and in 1617 was made lord-chancellor, and in 1619 received the title of Viscount St. Al- bans. He had now reached the pinnacle of his wishes and the acme of his fame. In the beginning of the year 1620, he kept his birth-day with great state, at York-House, the place of his birth. Bacon's literary reputation was not less brilliant than his political and professional fame. He was aware that his great work, the Orga/ion, in which he set forth prin- ciples of philosophy which were to guide future ages, was one which would startle the world by the novelty of its doctrines, and perhaps subject him to temporary re- proach. He elaborated it with the utmost care, and copied and revised it throughout no less than twelve times. Taking advan- tage of his present elevated position, he ventured upon its publication. This work has now taken its rank among the highest productions of the human mind ; but it was at first received with mingled sneers and admiration. Wits and geniuses turned it into ridicule. Dr. Andrews, a wag of the time, wrote some doggerel lines, in which he spoke of St. Albans, which fur- nished Bacon his title, as on the high road to Duncctablc, — that is, Dunstable! The pedantic king, who was sadly bothered with the book, said it was " like the peace of God — that passeth all understanding ! " Sir Edmund Coke wrote, in the title-page, under the device of a ship, " It dcscrveth not to he read in schools, Hut to lie freighted in the ship of fools." Bacon was, however, iniderstood by some. Ben Jonson, soon after his lordship's death, spoke of the work in exalted terms ; and Sir Henry Walton, who had received a copy from tlie author, wrote to him as fol- lows : " Your lordship hath done a great and everlasting benefit to all the children of nature and to nature herself — who never before had so noble and so true an interpre- ter." On the continent the work was still more favorably received tiian at home. But from this point the sun of Bacon declined, and soon set forever. While he was seeking with anxious care and patient toil to establish his literary reputation, he was laying the train which would ere long explode, and blacken his name with ever- lasting infamy. He had run into a course of lavish expenditures, and though his in- 26 CHIVALRY. come was enormous, it was still insufficient to supply his wants. He became unscrupu- lous as to tlie means in which he obtained money ; his principles were undermined ; and at last he did not scruple to use his official power to replenish his purse. Inquiry into these practices was set on foot, and Lord Bacon was found guilty. He was stripped of his offices, and impris- oned for a time in the Tower. He now returned to private life, and devoted him- self to study, till his death, in 1626. He was one of the greatest of English philoso- phers, and his works have had a prodigious effect on mankind. He was the first writer, in modern times, to point out clearl)' and distinctly the true principles of philosophy, or the rule for the discovery of truth. His malversations in office were great, but it is perfectly well known that they were of a kind common in his day, and we may, therefore, plead this as some alleviation of the heavy sentence which has been passed upon him. CHIVALRY. The institution and spirit of chivalry form a prominent and important feature of history, and have been regarded by writers and men of erudition in various points of view ; while some have condemned it as altogether injurious and absurd, others have dignified it with the title of sublime ! There have been found men of modern days, and those the fortunate possessors of more than common abilities, who could sigh over the degeneracy of the times, and lament that the age of chivalry is gone. But if the material and least worthy part of it has passed away, its spirit still re- mains, still invites men to high and honor- able deeds, and is indeed imperishable and immortal. The vows of knighthood, the ceremonials of installations, the pomp and ceremony of knightly feats, have gone; but the devotion of the patriot, the ardor of the warrior, the warmth of the lover, the fidelity of the friend, the loyalty and truth of the man of honor, do not sleep in the graves of Charlemagne, Roland, and Bayard. In seeking for the origin of chivahy, we are led back to the feudal ages, and the con- sideration of the condition of the Geomanic tribes, when its peculiar spirit first bea-an to display itself. The tribes were composed, not of superiors and inferiors, but of masters and slaves ; of men whose birthright was ease and honor, and of others who inherited ;| 27 the bond of ceaseless toil. By the noble- bom, labor of any kind was considered dc- gradmg, and the profession of arms alone worthy of being followed ; so that the lords of the soil were a race of independent war- riors, whose thirst for fame was a continual excitement. The different feudal sovereigns were nominally subject to a legitimate prince, and were bound to follow his banner into battle, at the head of their vassals, and to respond to his call, by bringing, at a moment's warning, an armed force to his support. Still, when removed from the presence of his sovereign, the feudal lord was a petty despot, whose vassals felt that he possessed absolute power of life and death over them. Unlimited authority gave rise to various abuses, and it was well that chivalry, with its high tone of honor and morality, sprang up in ages of general darl;noss, fraud, and oppression. Great enterprises contributed to bind numbers of knights together, and led to the formation of various societies and orders; and when these military adventurers were not leagued together in any of the Holy Wars, a reciprocity of principle, and an identity of religion, held them in a com- mon chain. Animated by a love of justice, a veneration for the fair sex, a high-minded regard for truth, a thirst for military glory, and a contempt for danger, the knights went forth, to brave peril, to rescue the unfortunate, and to crush the oppressor. Numerous in- dividuals set forth with no fixed purpose but that of discovering some wrong f.nd right- ing It, and these wandering champions were called Knights Errant, and their exploits sang in camp and court by the minstrels, whose lays immortalized the sons of chival- ry. Chivalry degenerated, but not rapidly. After the lapse of many years from its foundation, the number of its ceremonials increased, its pageantry was disgraced by frippery and folly, its vows were unobserved ; a devotion to the sex was succeeded by boundless licentiousness, and the wandering spirit of knight-errantry was displaced by an affectation of eccentricity. In the fourteenth century, the honors of knighthood were restricted to the nobilit}', and then arose the various forms and cere- monies, which at length concealed the original design of chivalry, and brought on a premature decline. The knightly educa- t'on of a yo\ith generally commenced with his twelfth year, when he was sent to the court of some noble pattern of chivalry, to learn dancing, riding, the use of his weapon, &c., and where his chief dutj- was assiduous attention to the ladies in the quality of page. According to his progress in years and accomplishments, he became squire to some knight, and when he fairly merited the distinction, he was himself knighted. This honor was not conferred upon a youth before his twenty-first year, unless high birth, or extraordinary valor and address, seemed to warrant the setting aside of the usual regulation. Sometimes the honor was won by many a field of bloody toil, with many drops of sweat and gore, and not unfrcquently, one daring achievement, artfully planned, and gallantly carried into execution, procured the wished-for spurs, and the anticijiated accolade. The ceremony of conferring knighthood was often performed on the field of battle, where the honor had been earned ; often it required and received the most imposing preparations and ceremonies. The young candidate guarded his arms for a night, and this was called the vigil of arms. In the morning, he bathed in water, which was the emblem of the truth and purity which he swore to preserve sacred. Clad in spot- less garments, he kneeled before the altar of the nearest church, and, having presented his sword to the olliciating priest, received it again with the benediction of the reverend man. After taking the oaths of allegiance, he knelt before his sovereign, who gave him the accolade, or blow upon the neck' with the flat of his sword, saluted the young warrior, and said: "In the name of God and St. Michael, (or, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,) I dub thee a knight. Be loyal, brave, and fortunate." It was customary for two knights of the same age and congenial tempers to form a friendship, and this brotherhood in arms lasted generally until one of the two was laid in the grave. The courtesy of chivalry softened the asperity of war, gave charms to victory, and assuaged to the vanquished the pain of a defeat. All that ingenuity could plan, and wealth produce, to give siilondor to knighthood, was displayed in the age of chivalry. Magnificent tourna- ments were held, where even kings entered the lists, and contended for the prize of valor, before the eyes of thousands of spec- tators, among whom beautiful ladies ap- peared the most deeply interested. In fact, the kniglits often contended about the charms of tlieir lady-loves, and wore their favors in their helmets. If the ladies of Kome at- tended gladiatorial shows in throngs, we cannot wonder that the beauties of the age of chivalry looked forward to a tournament 28 with great impatience, and eagerly strove for the honor of filling the post of temporary queen and distributer of the prizes. Chivalry exerted a powerful influence on poetry, and formed the subjects of the poems of the trouhadoiirs, of the south of France, as weL as supplied themes for the poetical controversies of the knights, which were de- cided at the cours d'amour, (courts of love,) first established in Provence. Even after chivalry had died away, its influence was not unfelt by poetry, which retained the tone it had imparted for many centuries. The songs of the troubadours were divided into amatory songs, duets, pastorals, sere- nades, ballads, poetical colloquies, &c. In the romances of chivalry we behold paladins and peers, sorcerers, fairies, winged and intelligent horses, invisible or invulner- able men, magicians, who are interested in the birth and education of knights, enchant- ed palaces ; in a word, the creation of a new world, which leaves our vulgar planet far beneath it. Paladins, never without arms, in a country bristling with fortresses, find their delight and honor in punishing injus- tice and defending weakness. The chiv- alric romances may be divided into three classes ; — those of the Round Table, those of Charlemagne, and, lastly, those of Ama- dis, which belong to a later century. It will suffice to speak of the former. The ro- mances of the Round Table recount tales of the cup from which Jesus Christ drank with Joseph, of A-rimathea ! This cup had per- formed such prodigies, that we are not as- tonished that those valorous knights of the Round Table, Lancelot, Perceval, and Perce- forest, are united with the determination to recover it. These pmix chevaliers are the perpetual heroes of these romances. Lancelot is attached to Genicore, the wife of King Arthur, and his marvellous exploits excited the admiration of contemporaries. Three centuries after, lords and ladies were still delighted at the recital of " the very elegant, delicious, mellifluous, and very pleasant historie of the very noble and very victorious Perceforest." Amidst many pages of wearisome insipidity, we find some happy descriptions and situations detailed, and graphic portraits of feudal men and manners. The absurdities of chivalry afforded scope for the satirical and comic powers of Cer- vantes, and the adventures of the unfortu- nate Don Quixote are read with an interest which few works of similar character in- spire. Every feature of chivalry is happily burlesqued, and the Don goes through all the ceremonials with a ludicrous gravity which is perfectly irresistible. The perti- nacity with which the knights maintained the preeminence of the ladies of their affec- tions, is finely satirized in the election which Don Qui.xote makes of a hideous countrj'- wench, whose charms he celebrates after the most approved fashion, and with un- ceasing devotion. Few ladies of chivalric romance have attained a degree of repu- tation comparable to that of the immortal Dulcinea del Toboso. THE LION. This animal stands at the head of the numerous family of cats, and has often been ranked by naturalists as the lord of the brute creation, and holding the same rela- tion to quadrupeds as the eagle does to birds. Like all the rest of his genus, the lion < steals upon his prey, and, when at a proper \ 29 distance, rushes upon it with a bound, se- curing- it with his sharp claws. In general he is cowardly ; but, in pursuit of his prey, he is, to tlie last degree, fearless and fero- cious. His strength is so great that he can break a man 3 skull with the stroke of his paw, and can drag the body of a cow over the ground at a gallop. His roar is terrific, and when heard, the animals around seem agitated with the wildest terror. The lion is common in the hot parts of Africa, and is occasionally found in India. It is probable that the lion does not usual- ly venture upon any one who puts himself in a posture of defence. The following anecdote would seem to show that this is the case. A young man was walking, one day, on his lands in the southern parts of Africa, when he unexpectedly met a large lion. Being an excellent shot, he thought himself sure of killing him, and therefore fired. But, unfortunately, the charge had been in the piece for some time, and the ball fell before it reached the animal. The young man, seized with panic, now took to his heels ; but being soon out of breath, and closely pursued by the lion, he jumped upon a little heap of stones, and there made a stand, presenting the butt-end of his gun to his adversary, fully resolved to defend his life as well as he could. This movement had such an effect upon the lion, that he likewise came to a stand ; and, what was still more singular, laid himself down at some paces' distance from the stones, seem- ingly quite unconcerned. The sportsman, in the mean while, did not dare to stir a step from the spot ; besides, in his flight, he iiad lost his powder-horn. At length, after waiting a good half hour, the lion rose up, and retreated slowly, step by step, as if it had a mind to steal otf ; but as soon as it got to a greater distance, it began to bound away with great rapidity. To the traveller in Africa, the lion is for- midable not at night only ; he li(^s in his path, and is with difficulty disturbed, to allow a passage for his wagons and cattle, even when the sun is shining with its utmost brilliancy ; or he is roused from some bushy place on the road-side by the indefatigable dogs, which always accompany a caravan. Mr. Burch:ll has described, with great spiiit, an eu-ounter of this nature : — " The day was exceedingly pleasant, and not a cloud was to be seen. For a mile or two we travelled along the banks of the river, which in this part abounded in tall mat-rushes. The dogs seemed much to <-njoy prowling about, and examining every bushy place, and at last met with some ob- ject among the rushes which caused them to set up a most vehement and determined barking. We explored the spot with cau- tion, as we suspected, from the peculiar tone of their bark, that it was, what it proved to be, lions. Having encouraged tlie dogs to drive them out, a task which they pcrfonned with great willingness, we had a full view of an enormous black-maned lion and lioness. The latter was seen only for a minute, as she made her escape up the river, under concealment of the rushes ; but the lion came steadily forward, and stood still to look at ns. At this moment we felt our situation not free from danger, as the ani- mal seemed prepared to spring upon us, and we were standing on the bank at the distance of only a few yards from him, most of us being on foot and unarmed, without any visible possibility of escaping. I had given up my horse to the hunters, and was on foot myself; but there was no time for fear, and it was useless to attempt avoiding him. I stood well upon my guard, holding my pistols in my hand, with my finger upon the trigger; and those who had muskets kept themselves prepared in the same manner. But at this instant tlie dogs boldly flew in between us and the lion, and surrounding him, kept him at bay by their violent and resolute balking. The courage of these faithful animals was most admirable; they advanced up to the side of the huge beast, and stood making the greatest clamor in his face, without the least appearance of fear. The lion, conscious of his strength, remained unmoved at their noisy attempts, and kept his head turned towards ^t one moment, the dogs, perceiving his eyes thus engaged, had advanced close to his feet, and seemed as if they would actually seize hold of him ; but they paid dearly for their imprudence ; for, without discompos- ing the majestic and steady attitude in which he stood fixed, he merely moved his paw, and at the next instant I beheld two lying dead. In doing this, he made so little exertion, that it was scarcely percep- tible by what means they had been killed. Of the time which we had gained by the interference of the dogs, not a moment was lost. We fired upon him ; one of the balls went through his side, just between the short ribs, and the blood immediately began to flow ; but tlie animal still remained stand- ing in the same position. We had now no doubt that he would spring upon us ; every gun was instantly reloaded ; but, happily, we were mistaken, and were not sorry to %%^.'%^(%/V'W^ X 30 CHARLES 11., OF ENGLAND. see him move quietly away ; thoug-h I had hoped in a few minutes to have been ena- bled to take hold of his paw without danger. " This was considered by our party to be a lion of the largest size, and seemed, as I measured him by comparison with the dogs, to be, though less bulky, as heavy as an ox. He was certainly as long in body, though lower in stature; and his copious mane! gave him a truly formidable appearance. He was of that varietj' which the Hottentots and boirs distinguish by the name of the' black lion, on account of the blacker color of the mane, and which is said to be alwaj's larger and more dangerous than the other, which they call the yale lion. Of the cour- age of a lion I have no very high opinion ; but of his majestic air and movements, as exhibited by this animal, while at liberty in his native plains, I can bear testimony, Notwithstanding the pain of a wound, of which he must soon afterwards have died, he moved slowly away, with a stately and measured step." 111 Iff I ^ f> ' ^^ Charles reluming to England, in 1660, as king. CHARLES II., OF ENGLAND. This individual was born in 1630, and was at the Hague when his father, Charles I., was executed. He lived upon the conti- nent, going from one country to another, de- vising schemes for succeeding to the throne of England. The Scots, who had betrayed the father, invited the son to come there, which he did, and was crowned king in 16-51. He marched with an army into England, but was defeated, and obliged to fly for his life. After many perilous adven- tures, he escaped to France. In 1660, Cromwell being dead, and his son Richard having resigned the office of Protector, Charles was invited to return by General Monk, who was at the head of the army. This he did, and was received with demonstrations of joy and rejoicing by the people at large. With him, licentiousness, , infidelity, and frivolity, returned to the court, : and infected the upper classes in England. [He lived in the unbridled indulgence of his appetites and passions, taking little interest in public affairs, except to sell the interests of his country for money. He was, hov/- ever, affable and witty; and by going abroad without ostentation, and mixing with the lowest of his subjects, Charles obtained a certain degree of popularity, and the name of the merry monarch distinguished him during his life. His wit was ready and pleasant, as Rochester, whose disposition much resembled the monarch's, happily ex- pressed in the epigram in which he .speaks of Charles as one " Who never said a foolish thing, And never did a wise one." Charles and his courtiers being one day present at the exhibition of a man who daringly climbed to the spire of Salisbury cathedral, and planted a flag there — the king said to his favorite, "Faith, Rochester, this --« CHARLES II., OF ENGLAND. 31 man shall have a patent, that no one may di> this but him?elf !" There never was a more corrupt, selfish, and unprincipled ruler than Charles II.; yet at his death, the people seemed to mourn for him, as if he had been a benefactor, — such is the seductive and alluring power of monarchy over an ignorant and besotted nation. The closing scene of Charles' ca- reer is tluis described by Macauley. " The death of King Charles II. took the nation by surprise. His frame was natu- rally strong, and he did not appear to have suffered from excess. He had always been mindful of his health, even in his pleasures ; and his habits were such as promise a long life and a robust old age. Indolent as he was on all occasions which required ten- sion of the mind, he was active and perse- vering in bodily exercise. He had, when young, been renowned as a tennis-player, and was, even in the decline of life, an indefatigable walker. His ordinary pace was such, that those who were admitted to the honor of his society found it dillicult to keep up with him. He rose early, and generally passed three or four hours a day in the open air. He might be seen, before the dew was ofT the grass, in St. James' Park, striding among the trees, playing with his spaniels, and flinging corn to his ducks ; and these exhibitions endeared him to the common people, who always love to see the great unbend. "At length, towards the close of the year 1681, he was prevented, b}' a slight attack of what was supposed to be gout, from rambling as usual. He now spent his mornings in his laboratory, where he amused himself with experiments on the properties of mercury. His temper seemed to have suflered from confinement. He had no apparent cause for disquiet. His king- dom was tranquil ; he was not in pressing want of money ; his power was greater than it had ever been ; the party which had long thwarted him had been beaten down ; but the cheerfulness which had supported him against adverse fortune had vanished in this season of prosperity. A trifle now suf- ficed to depress those elastic spirits, which had borne up against defeat, exile, ar>d penury. His irritation frequently shovyed itself by looks and words, such as could hardly have been expected from a man so eminently distinguished by good humor and good breeding. It was not supposed, however, that his constitution was seriously impaired. " His palace had seldom presented a CTiyer or a more scandalous appearance than on the evening of Sunday, the first of February, 16S5. Some grave persons, who had gone thither, after the fashion of that age, to pay their duty to their sove- reign, and who had expected that, on such a day, his court would wear a decent aspect, were struck with astonishment and horror. The great gallery of Whitehall, an admira- ble relic of the magnificence of the Tudors, was crowded with revellers and gamblers. The king sat there, chatting and toying with three women, whose charms were the boast, and whose vices were the disgrace, of three nations. Barbara Palmer, Duchess of Cleveland, was there, no longer )'oung, but still retaining some traces of that superb and voluptuous loveliness, which, twenty years before, overcame the hearts of all men. There, too, was the Duchess of Ports- mouth, whose soft and infantine features were lighted up with the vivacity of France. Hortensia IMancini, Duchess of Mazarin, and niece of the great Cardinal, completed the group. She had been early removed from her native Italy, to the court where her uncle was supreme. His power, and her own attractions, had drawn a crowd of illustrious suitors around her. Charles, himself, during his exile, had sought her hand in vain. No gift of nature or of for- tune seemed to be wanting to her. Her face was beautiful with the rich beauty of the South, her understanding quick, her manners graceful, her rank exalted, her possessions immense ; but her ungovernable passions had turned all these blessings into curses. She had found the misery of an ill-assorted marriage intolerable, had fled from her husband, had abandoned her vast wealth, and after having astonished Rome and Piedmont by her adventures, had fixed her abode in England. Her house was the favorite resort of men of wit and pleasure, who, for the sake of her smiles and her table, endured her frequent fits of insolence and ill-humor. Rochester and Godolphin sometimes forgot the cares of state in her company. Barillon and Saint Evremond found in her drawing-room consolation for their long banishment from Paris. The learning of Vossius, the wit of Wallei, were daily employed to flatter and amuse her. But her diseased mind required stronger stimulants, and sought them in gallantry, in basset, and in usquebaugh. While Charles flirted with his three sultanas, Hortensia's French page, a handsome boy, whose vocal performances were the delight of Whitehall, and were rewarded by nu- 32 CHARLES U., OF ENGLAND. merous presents of rich clothes, ponies, and guineas, warbled some amorous verses. A party of twenty courtiers were seated at cards around a large table on which gold was heaped in mountains. Even then the king had complained that he did not feel quite well. He had no appetite for his supper; his rest that night was broken ; but on the following morning he rose, as usual, early. To that morning the contending factions in his country had, during some days, looked forward with anxiety. The struggle between Halifax and Kochester seemed to be approaching a decisive crisis. Halifax, not content with having already driven his rival from the board of treasury, had undertaken to prove him guilty of such dishonesty or neglect in the conduct of the finances as ought to be punished by dismis- sion from the public service. It was even whispered that the lord-president would probably be sent to the Tower before night. The king had promised to inquire into the matter. The second of February had been fixed for the investigation, and several ofli- cers of the revenue had been ordered to attend with their books on that day. But a great turn of fortune was at hand. " Scarcely had Charles risen from his bed when his attendants perceived that his utterance was indistinct, and that his thoughts seemed to be wandering. Several men of rank had, as usual, assembled to see their sovereign shaved and dressed. He made an effort to converse with them in his usual gay style ; but his ghastly look surprised and alarmed them. Soon his face grew black ; his eyes turned in his head ; he uttered a cry, staggered, and fell into the arms of Thomas, Lord Bruce, eldest son of the Earl of Ailesbury. A physician who had charge of the royal retorts and crucibles happened to be present. He had no lancet, but he opened a vein with a pen- knife. The blood flowed freely, but the king was still insensible. " He was laid on his bed, where, during a short time, the Duchess of Portsmouth hung over him with the familiarity of a wife. But'the alarm had been given. The queen and the Duchess of York were has- tening to the room. The favorite concubine was forced to retire to her own apartments. Those apartments had been thrice pulled down and thrice rebuilt by her lover, to gratify her caprice. The very furniture of the chimney was massy silver. Several fine paintings, which properly belonged to the queen, had been transferred to the dwelling of the mistress. The sideboards were loaded with richly wrought plate. In the niches stood cabinets, the masterpieces of Japanese art. On the hangings, fresh from the looms of Paris, were depicted, in tints which no English tapestry could rival, birds of gorgeous plumage, land- scapes, hunting-matches, the lordly terrace of St. Germain's, the statues and fonntains of Versailles. In the midst of this splendor, purchased by guilt and shame, the unhappy woman gave herself up to an agony of grief, which, to do her justice, was not wholly selfish. " And now the gates of Whitehall, which ordinarily stood open to all comers, were closed. But persons whose faces were known were still permitted to enter. The antechambers and galleries were soon filled to overflowing; and even the sick room was crowded with peers, privy councillors, and foreign ministers. All the medical men of note m London were summoned. So high did political animosities run, that the pres- ence of some Whig physicians was regarded as an extraordinary circumstance. One Roman Catholic, whose skill was then widely renowned, Dr. Thomas Short, was in attendance. Several of the prescriptions have been preserved. One of them is signed by fourteen doctors ! The patient was bled largely. A loathsome volatile salt, extracted from human skulls, was forced into his mouth. He recovered his senses ; but he was evidently in a situation of extreme danger. " The queen was for a time assiduous in her attendance. The Duke of Vork scarce- ly left his brother's bedside. The primal^ and four other bishops were then in Lon- don. They remained at Whitehall all day, and took it by turns to sit up all night in the king's room. The news of his illness filled the capital with sorrow and dismay ; for his easy temper and aflable manners had won the affection of a large part of the nation ; and those who most disliked him preferred his unprincipled levity to the stern and earnest bigotry of his brother. " On the morning of Thursday, the fifth of February, the London Gazette announced that his majesty was going on well, and was thought by the physicians to be out of danger. The bells of the churches rang merrily ; and preparations for bonfires were made in the street. But in the evening it was known that a relapse had taken place, and that the medical attendants had given up all hope. The public mind was greatly disturbed ; but there was no disposition to tumult. The Duke of York, who had al- ^11 CHAKLES U., OF ENGLAND. 33 ready taken on himself to give orders, as- certained that the city was perfectly quiet, ind that he might, without difficulty, be proclaimed as soon as his brother should expire. " The king was in great pain, and com- plained that he felt as if a fire was burning within him. Yet he bore up against his sufferings with a fortitude which did not seem to belong to his soft and luxurious nature. The sight of his misery affected his wife so much that she fainted, and was carried senseless to her chamber. The pre- lates, who were in waiting, had, from the first, e.xhorted him to prepare for his end. They now thought it their duty to address him in a still more urgent manner. Wm. Sancroft, Archbishop of Canterburj-, an honest and pious, though narrow-minded man, used great freedom. ' It is time,' he said, ' to speak out ; for, sir, you are about to appear before a Judge who is no respecter of persons.' The king answered not a word. " Thomas Ken, Bishop of Bath and Wells, then tried his powers of persuasion. He was a man of parts and learning, of quick jensibility and stainless virtue. His elab- orate works have, long been forgotten , but his morning and evening hymns are still repeated daily in thousands of dwellings. Though, like most of his order, zealous for monarchy, he was no sycophant. Before he became a bishop, he had maintained the lienor of his gown by refusing, when the court was at Winciiestcr, to let Eleanor Gwynn lodge in the house which he occu- pied there as a prebendary. The king had sense enough to respect so manly a spirit. Of all the prelates he liked Ken the best. It was to no purpose, however, that the good bishop now put forth all his eloquence. His solemn and pathetic exhortation awed and melted the bystanders to such a degree, that some among them believed him to be filled with the same spirit which, in the old time, had by ihe mouths of Nathan and 5 Elias called sinful princes to repentance. Charles, however, was unmoved. He made no objection, indeed, when the service for the Visitation of the Sick was read. In reply to the pressing questions of the divines, he said that he was sorry for what he had done amiss ; and he suffered the absolution lo be pronounced over him according to the forms of the Church of England ; but when he was urged to declare that he died in the communion of that church, he seemed not to l>ear what was said ; and nothing could induce him to lake the Eucharist froin the ; hands of the bishops. A table with bread and wine was brought to his bedside, but in vain. Sometimes he said that there was no hurry, and sometimes that he was too weak. " Many attributed this apathy to contempt for divine things, and many to the stupor which often precedes death. But (hcie were in the palace a few persons who knew better. Charles had never been a sincere member of the Established Church. His mind had long oscillated between Hobbism and poperj'. When his health was good and his spirits high, he was a scoffer. In his few serious moments he was a Roman Catholic. The Duke of York was aware of this, but he was entirely occupied with the care of his own interests. He had or- dered the outposts to be closed. He had posted detachments of the guards in different parts of the city. He had also procured the feeble signature of the dying king to an in- strument, by which, some duties, granted only till the demise of the crown, were let to farm-for a term of years. These things occupied the attention of James to such a degree, that, though, on ordinary occasions he was indiscreetly and unseasonably eager to bring over proselytes to his church, he never reflected that his brother was in dan- ger of dying without the last sacraments. This neglect was the more extraordinary, because tlie Duchess of York had, at the request of the queen, suggested, on the morning on which the king was taken ill, the propriety of procuring spiritual assist- ance. For such assistance Charles was at last indebted to an agency very diflerent from that of his pious wife and sister-in-law. A life of frivolity and vice had iwt extin- guished in the Duchess of Portsmouth all sentiments of religion, or a^l that kindness which is the glory of her sex. The French ambassador, Barillon, who had come to the palace to inquire after tlie king, paid her a visit. He found her in an agony of sorrow. She took him into a secret room, and poured out her whole heart to him. 'I have,' she said, 'a thing of great moment to tell you. If it were known, my liead would be in dan- ger. The king is really and trtily a Catho- lic ! but he will die without being reconciled to the church. His bedchamber is full of Protestant clergi,'nien. I cannot enter with- out giving scandal. The duke is thinking only of himself. Speak to hitn. Kemiml him that there is a soul at stake. He is master now. He can clear the room. Go, this instant, or it will he too late.' " Barillon hastened to the bedchamber, took the duke aside, and delivered the 34 CHARLES II., OF ENGLAND. i message of the mistress. The conscience of James smote him. He started as if roused from sleep, and declared that noth- ing should prevent him from discharging the sacred duty which had been too long de- layed. Several schemes were discussed and rejected. At last, the duke commanded the crowd to stand aloof, went to the bed, stooped down, and whispered something which none of the spectators could hear, but which they supposed to be some ques- tion connected with affairs of state. Charles answered in an audible voice, ' Yes, yes, i with all my heart.' None of the bystanders, except the French ambassador, guessed that the king was declaring his wish to be admit- ted into the bosom of the Church of Rome. ' Shall I bring you a priest ?' said the duke. ' Do, brother,' replied the sick man. ' But, no ; you will get into trouble.' ' If it costs me my life,' said the duke, ' I will fetch a priest.' " To find a priest, however, for such a purpose, at a moment's notice, was not easy. P'or, as the law then stood, the person who admitted a proselyte into the Roman Cath- olic CI urch was guilty of a capital crime. The Gaunt of Castel Melhor, a Portuguese nobleman, who, driven by political troubles from his native land, had been hospitably received at the English court, undertook to prtt7,re a confessor. He had recourse to his countrymen who belonged to the queen's household, but he found that none of her chaplains knew English or French enough to shrive the king. The duke and Barillon were about to send to the Venetian minister, for a clergyman, when they heard that a Benedictine monk, named John Huddleston, happened to be at Whitehall. This man had, with great risk to himself, saved the king's life after the battle of Worcester, and had, on that account, been, ever since the ref toration, a privileged person. In the shi rpest proclamations put forth against po] dsh priests, when false witnesses had inf amed the nation to fury, Huddleston hail been excepted by name. He, however, obi lined some hints, through the interven- tion of Castel Melhor, from a Portuguese ec- clesiastic ; and thus instructed, was brought up the back stairs, by Chiffinch, a confiden- tial servant, who, if the satires of that age are to credited, had often introduced visitors of a very difTerent description by the same entrance. The duke then, in the king's name, commanded all who were present to quit the room, except Lewis Duras, Earl of Feversham, and John Granville, Earl of Bath. Both these lords professed the Protestant religion ; but James conceived that he could count on their fidelity. Feversham, a Frenchman, of noble birth, and nephew of the great Turenne, held high rank in the English army, and was chamberlain to the queen. Bath was groom of the stole. " The duke's orders were obeyed ; and even the physician withdrew. Tlie back door was then opened, and Father Huddles- ton then entered. A cloak had been thrown over his sacred vestments, and his shaven crown was concealed by a flowing wig. ' Sir,' said the duke, ' this good man once saved your life ; he now comes to save your soul.' Charles faintly answered, 'He ii welcome.' Huddleston went through his part better than had been expected. He knelt by the bed, listened to the confession, pronounced the absolu'ion, and adminis- tered extreme unction. He asked if the king wished to receive the Lord's Supper. ' Surely,' Laid Charles, ' if I am not un- worthy.' The host was brought in ; and Charles feebly strove to rise and kneel be- fore it. The priest bade him lie still, and assured him that God would accept the hu- miliation of the soul, and would not require the humiliation of the body. The king found so much difficulty in swallowing the bread, that it was necessary to open the door, and to procure a glass of water. This rite ended, the monk held up a crucifix before the penitent, charged him to fix his last thoughts upon the sufferings of the Re- deemer, and withdrew. The whole cere- mony had occupied about three quarters of an hour ; and, during that time, the cour- tiers, who filled the outer room, had com- municated their suspicions to each other by whispers and significant glances. The door was at length thrown open, and the crowd again filled the chamber of death. " It was now late in the evening. The king seemed much relieved by what had passed. His natural children were brought to his bedside, the Dukes of Grafton, Southampton, and Northumberland, sons of the Duchess of Cleveland, the Duke of St. Albans, son of Eleanor Gwynn, and the Duke of Richmond, son of the Duchess of Portsmouth. Charles blessed them all, but spoke with peculiar tenderness to Rich- mond. One face, that should have been there, was wanting. The eldest and best beloved child was an exile and a wanderer. His name was not once mentioned by his father. " During the night, Charles earnestly recommended the Duchess of Portsmouth THE PELICAN. 35 and her boy to the care of James ; ' And do not,' he good-naturedly added, ' let poor Nelly starve.' The queen sent excuses for her absence by Halifax. She said she was too much disordered to resume her post by the couch, and implored pardon for any oflence which she might unwittingly have given. ' Ask my pardon ! poor woman,' cried Charles ; ' I ask hers, with all my heart.' " The I morning light began to peep through the windows of Wliitehall ; and Charles desired the attendants to pull aside the curtains, that he inii^ht have one more look at the day. He remarked that it was time to wind up a clock which stood near his bed. These little circumstances were long remembered, because they proved be- yond dispute that, when he declared him- self a Roman Catholic, he was in the full possession of his faculties. He apologized to those who had stood aroudd him all night for the trouble which he had caused, i He had been, he said, a most unconscionable j time dying ; but he hojied that tlicy would J excuse it. This was the last glimpse of < that e.xquisite urbanity, so often found po- ] tent to charm away the resentment of a ; justly incensed nation. Soon after dawn S the speech of the dying man failed. Before j ten his senses were gone. Great numbers > had repaired to the churches at the hour of ( morning service. When the prayer for the S king was read, loud groans and sobs showed 5 how dee])ly his people felt for him. At ( noon, on Friday, the sixth of February, he passed away without a struggle." gfel THE PELICAN. The common pelican is of a grayish- white. The bill is of great length, and hooked at the end, and has under it a loose, flexible membrane, reaching to the throat, which Cbrms a bag, capable of holding a large quantity of food for feeding its yo^ng. Like the duck or goose, its feet are webbed, all t'le toes being joined by the membrane, thus fitting it for swimming. The bones of this bird are solid, and not hollow like the bones of other birds ; and arc also pel- lucid, or clear. It is said that the bag under their throat is capable of enlarge- ment, sutficient to hold two iiuman heads ! The pelican is nearly twice the size of a swan. Pelicans haunt desert places, where there are rivers or pools, and marshy spots. Hence, the Psalmist compares himself to a pelican of the wilderness. The voice of this bird is harsh and disagreeable, resem- bling the sounds uttered by a man in great sufTering and distress. On this account, David compares his groaning to the voice of the pelican. In attection to their young, pelicans furnish an example even to human parents. If the nest containing their young is set on fire, they will flap their wings over the kindled nest, even at the hazard of their own lives. These birds are common m America, as well as the Eastern Continent. Our western rivers and lakes, and the south- ern shores of the sea, swarm with them. STRASBURG CATHEDRAL. SiRASBiTRG, a Strongly fortified town of France, near the Ehine, has about 75,000 inhabitants. It is in the department of Bas Khin. It has the appearance of a German town, and German is spoken by the mass, though French is taught in the schools. The principal and most interesting build- ing in the town is the Cathedral or Munster, one of the noblest Gothic edifices in Europe, remarkable for its spire, the highest in the world, — rising 474 feet above the pavement. It is nearly equal to the great pyramid of Eg^'pt, and 140 feet higher than St. Paul's. The artist who designed this admirable masterpiece of airy openwork was Encin of Steinbach: his plans are still preserved in the town. He died in 1318, when the work was only half finished : it was con- tinued by his son, and afterwards by his daughter Sabina. The tower, begun 1277, was not completed till 1439, long after their deaths, and 424 years after the church was ^-* THE PATAGONIANS. 37 commenced, by John Hiiltz, of Cologne, who was summonod to Strasburg for this end. Had the original design been carried into execution, both the towers would have been raised to the same height. A doorway, in the south side of the truncated tower, leads to the summit of the spire. On the platform, about two thirds of the way up, is a telegraph, and a station for tlie watchmen, who are set to look out for fires. One of them will accompany those who wish to mount the upper spire, and will unlock the iron gate which closes the passage. There is no ditBculty or danger in the ascent to a person of ordinary nerve or steadiness of head ; but the stone-work of the steeple is so completely open, and the pillars which support it are .so wide apart, and cut so thin, that they more nearly resemble a collection of bars of iron or wood ; so that at such a height one might almost fancy one's self suspended in a cage over the city; and, if the foot were to slip, the body might possi- bly drop through the open fret-work. At tlie same time, the elaborateness of the tracery, and the sharpness of the angles and ornaments, are proofs of the skill of the architect, and the excellent materials he had chosen ; and it is only by a close inspection that the delicacy of the workmanship can be truly appreciated. Within a few feet of the top, the winding stairs tenninate, under a species of carved rosette. Several in- stances are recorded of persons who have either fallen, or have thrown themselves, off the top. The upper part of the spire, within and without, is covered with neatly carved names, chiefly of freemasons, who have visited it ; among them may be read Stolberg, Giithe, Schlosser, Herder. The view of the multitude of rusty-col- ored tiled roofs of the town is not very pleasing; nor is it the birds-eye panorama of the rich district around, of the Khiiie and Black Forest in Gemiany, and cf the Vos- ges Mountains on the side of France, that will reward the adventurous climber ; but rather the e.xploit, the great elevation, and the near view which it alfordsof the steeple. The interior of this wonderful building is curious and interesting, but we have not space to give a detailed description of it. THE PATAGONIANS. Pat.^gonta is the most southern country in South America. It has never been much explored ; so that we can say but little more about it, than that the northern parts have a milder climate and a more produ«tive soil than the southern parts, which are intensely cold. It is as cold there as at Cape Horn, or in the northern part of Canada. Of the inhabitants, also, wo can give no very particular account. Some Europeans, how- ever, have visited them, during 'heir voyages of trade or discovery. 38 THE SPECTRE OF THE BROCKEN. j In 1764, Commodore Byron landed in { Patagonia, and had an interview with the i natives. They had always been said to be I giants, and he found them to be so. They I seemed to him to be generally six feet and ; a half high, and some of them quite seven I feet. The tallest Americans are seldom 5 over six feet, generally not more than five ^ feet and seven and ten inches. ; He found them not only thus tall, but very > robust. Their hands and feet, however, are ! small. They are a warlike tribe, yet cour- ) teous and humane. In their complexion J they are copper-colored. They have straight, J black, and coarse hair, usually tied behind \ with a string. They paint themselves with t circles round the eyes, and with various j colors. Their teeth are exceedingly white, and remarkably even and well set. Their dress is made of the skin of the guanaco, sewed together into pieces about six feet long and five broad, which are wrapped as a cloak round their body. The upper part, however, falls back, and thus ex- poses the neck and shoulders to the weatlicr, and makes them look almost naked. They appear to eat raw flesh of animals. They are excellent horsemen, and will pursue their game on horseback, in places of dan- ger, where a European would be afraid to go. In 1766, Captain Welles visited Patago- nia, and while there, he took several of the people on board his ship; but he was sur- prised to find that they had no curiosity about anything, excepting a looking-glass, before which they danced and played a thousand tricks. THE SPECTRE OF THE BROCKEN. Ti:e Bvocken is a mountain of the Hartz range, in Hanover, Germany. Its top is only 3400 feet above the level of the sea, yet it is celebrated on account of the spec- tral phenomena which are sometimes wit- nessed there. The whole region around has been, indeed, converted into a land of enchantment, by the fanciful people of the country. Every hill, and glen, and wood, in the vicinity, has been made the theatre of some supernatural legend. The traveller who visits this spot may be puzzled to find these creations of imagi- nation, but the SpectTe of the Bracken is a reality, and may still be seen if one will have the patience to wait till the ghost con- descends to make its appearance. One of the visitors to this spot thus describes what he saw : Having ascended the Brocken for the thirtieth time, I was at length so fortunate as to have the pleasure of seeing this phe- DIOGENES. 39 nomenon. The sun rose about four o'clock, aiid the atmosphere being quite serene towards the east, its rays could pass without any obstruction over the Heinrichpoke moun- tain. About a quarter past four, I looked round to see whether the atmosphere would permit me to have a free prospect to the south-west, when I observed at a great dis- tan:e achtermannshoue, a human figure of a monstrous size ! A violent gust of wind having almost carried ofT my hat, I moved my hand toward my head, and the colossal figure did the same. The pleasure which I felt at this discovery can hardly bo described, for I had already walked many a weary step in the hope of seeing this shadowy image, without being able to gratify my cUriosit}'. I made im- mediately another movement, by bending my body, and the colossal figure before me repeated it. I was desirous of doing the same thing once more, but my coiossus had vanished. I remained in the same position, waiting to see if it would return, and in a few minutes it again made its appearance on the achtermannshoue. I then called the landlord of the neighboring inn, and having both taken the position which I had taken alone, we saw two colossal figures, which repeated their compliments by bend- ing their bodies as we did ; after which they vanished. I particularly noticed that this phenomenon was frequently very weak and faint, but sometimes strong and well defined. The time to ascend the Brocken is in the month of September, tiiat being the only month in the year when the fogs and steams of this northern clime will allow an uninter- rupted view. It is not advisable to attempt an ascent to the Hartz without a guide, as these mountains abound with dangerous marshes. DIOGENES. This person, whoso fame has come down \ voted himself, with the greatest diligence, to us from antiquity, was born at Pontus in Asia Minor, about 419 B. C. He went to Athens at an early period, and joined the rigid school of the Cynics. Here he de- fo the lessons of his master, whose doctrines he afterwards extended and enforced. He not only despised all philosophical specula- tions, anil opposed the corrupt morals of his 40 time, but also carried the application of his principles, in his own person, to the ex- treme. He exposed the follies of his co- temporaries with wit and humor, though he really accomplished little in the way of re- forming them. At the same time, he ap- plied, in its fullest extent, his principle of divesting himself of all superfluities. He taught tliat a wise man, in order to be hap- py, must endeavor to preserve himself inde- pendent of fortune, of men, and of himself ; and, in order to do this, he must despise riches, power, honor, arts and sciences, and all the enjoyments of life. He endeavored to exhibit, in his own person, a model of Cynic virtue. For this purpose, he subjected himself to the severest trials, and disregarded all the forms of polite society. He often struggled to overcome his appetite, or satisfied it with the coarsest food ; practised the most rigid temperance, even at feasts, in the midst of the greatest abundance, and did not consider it beneath his dignity to ask alms. By day, he walked through the streets of Athens barefoot, with a long beard, a stick in his hand, and a bag over his shoul- ders. He was clad in a coarse double robe, which served as a coat by day and a cover- let by night ; and he carried a wallet to receive alms. His abode was a cask in the temple of Cybele. It is said that he some- times carried a tub about on his head, which occasionally served as his dwelling. In summer he rolled himself in the burning sand, and in winter clung to the marble images covered with snow, that he might inure himself to the extremes of the climate. He bore the scoffs and insults of the people witli the greatest equanimity. Seeing a I boy draw water with his hand, he threw away his wooden goblet, as an unnecessary utensil. He never spared the follies of men, but openly and loudly inveighed against vice and corruption, attacking them with keen satire, and biting irony. The people, and even the higher classes, heard him with pleasure, and tried their wit upon him. When he made them feel his superiority, they often had recourse to abuse, by which, however, he was little moved. He rebuked them for expressions and actions which vio- lated decency and modesty, and therefore it is not credible that he was guilty of the excesses with which his enemies reproached him. His rudeness offended the laws of good breeding, rather than the principles of morality. On a voyage to the island of jEgina, he fell into the hands of pirates, who sold him as a slave to Xeniades, a Corinthian. He, however, emancipated him, and intrusted to him the education of his children. He attended to the duties of his new employ- ment \yith the greatest care, commonly liv- ing in summer at Corinth, and in the winter at Athens. It was at the former place that Alexander found him at the road-side, bask- ing in the sun ; and, astonished at the in- difference with which the ragged beggar regarded him, entered into conversation with him, and finally gave him permission to ask him a boon. " I ask nothing," an- swered the philosopher,' " but that thou wouldst get out of my sunshine." Sur- prised at th"ls proof of content, the king is said to have exclaimed, " Were I not Alex- ander, I would be Diogenes." The follow- ing dialogue, though not given as historical, is designed to represent this interview. Diogenes. Who calleth ? Alexatxder. Alexander. Howhappeneth it that you would not come out of your tub to my palace ? D. Because it was as far from my tub to your palace, as from your palace to my tub. A. What ! dost thou owe no reverence to kings ? D. No. A. Why so ? D. Because they are not gods. A. They are gods of the earth. D. Yes, gods of the earth ! A. Plato is not of thy mind. D. I am glad of it. A. Why? I). Because I would have none of Diog- enes' mind but Diogenes. A. If Alexander have anything that can pleasure Diogenes, let me know, and take it. D. Then take not from me that you can- not give me — the light of the sun ! A. What dost thou want ? D. Nothing that you have. A. I have the world at command. D. And I, in contempt. A. Thou shalt live no longer than I will. D. But I shall die, wheti^r you will or no. A. How should one learn to be content ? D. Unlearn to covet. A. {to HepfuBStion.) Hephtestion, were I not Alexander, I would wish to be Diog- enes. H. He is dogged, but shrewd ; he has a sharpness, mixed with a kind of sweetness ; he is full of wit, yet too wayward. A. Diogenes, when I come this way again, 1 will both see thee and confer with thee. D. Do. THE LOCUST. 4] We are told that the philosopher was seen, one day, carrying a lantern through the streets of Athens : on being asked what he was looking after, he answered, " I am seeking an honest man." Thinking he had found among the Spartans the greatest capacity for becoming such men as he wished, he said, " Men, I have found no- where ; but children, at least, I have seen in Laceda;mon." Being asked, " What is the most dangerous animal ?" his answer was, " Among wild animals, the slanderer ; among tame, the llattcrer." He expired .323 B. C, at a great age, and, it is said, on the same day that Alexander died. When he felt death approaching, he seated him- self on the road leading to Olympia, where he died with philosophical calmness, in the presence of a great number of people who were collected around him. THE LOCUST. This mcst remarkable insect is called in the Hebrew language arhch, a word which signifies to multiply. This name is given because of the immense and inconceivable swarms of these insects by which many eastern countries are infested. The common brown locust is about three inches in length ; its antenna; are two in number, and about an inch long, and it is provided with two pairs of wings. This is necessary, from its weight and the immense distance through the air which it is some- times destined to travel. The head and horns are brown, and also the upper side of the body and upper wings, — the former, in addition, spotted with black, and the latter with dusky spots. In general form and appearance tiiere is a considerable resem- blance to the grasshopper, so well known in this country. What is not the case with other insects, the males are much more nu- merous than tiio females. The males only make a noise, which is produced by a quick vibration of the wings against each other or against their legs. It is very singular that the 7i!/»ipha, or tror?}i of the locust, diflers very little from the locust in its perfect state. In the nymph state, it moves and eats; and there is only this dillerence, that the wings are not moved and expanded as in the per- fect state, but are beautifully folded up in small compass, and form the appearance of two small buttons on the shoulder. The number of the locusts is so extraor- dinary, that they will darken the whole sky for the extent sometimes of more than a hundred miles! A captain of a vessel, it is said, saw the sky darkened and covered by them for several days, when navigat- ing the ocean, to the east of the African continent. When they invade a country, if it is before them a garden of beauty, behind them it is a dreary desert ! They destroy every green thing ! They laj'^ their eggs, and then die. Each one lays from two to three hundred eggs, which are hatched by the heat of the sun in the fol- lowing spring. 42 ^^i'^'^i^^^>^^^^b^A/W%'WV%% Hf GREAT BRITAIN. Locusts have often proved a dreadful visitation of Providence. They were one of the ten plagues of Egypt ; (Exod. x. 14.) In the days of Joel, the prophet, they occa- sioned a famine; (Joel ii. 1 — 11.) The locusts, according to the Levitical law, were ceremonially clean. John the Bap- tist, in a great measure, lived upon them, and probably the Abyssinians at the pres- ent day do the same. In the book of Revelation, false teachers and persecutors are compared to locusts coming out of the bottomless pit ; (Kev. Lx. 1-11.) GREAT BRITAIN. The kingdom of Great Britain and Ire- land, all things considered, may be regarded as the most powerful the world has ever known. No ancient empire, — not even Rome itself, — possessed such elements of strength. The vastness of its wealth ; its navy, claiming the dominion of the seas ; its immense military capacity, with the gen- eral sagacity and energy of the government, render it the leading power in the world. To the eye of the traveller, the three kingdoms seem almost like a mighty gar- den, strown over with cities, palaces, villa- ges, and coimtry-seats. Here are the finest roads, and the best travelling-vehicles in the world ; railroads and canals cross the country in every direction ; arts and manufactures are carried to the highest degree of per- fection ; and commerce brings hither the luxuries of every clime. London, the me- 1 tropolis of Great Britain, serves to indicate the character of the nation. It has two millions six hundred thousand of people, and surpasses all other cities in wealth and popu- lation. The government of England exer- cises a commanding influence, not only in the countries of Europe, but upon the for- tunes of the world. Within our own day, China, which has more than one quarter of the inhabitants of the globe, has been com- pelled to bow to the will of this island empire. The colonies of Great Britain extend over the whole globe, and contain a population of one hundred and fifty millions. In allu- sion to the immense extent and power of the British empire, it has been said by a celebrated orator, that she has "dotted the surface of the globe with her possessions and military posts, whose morning drum- beat, following the sun, and keeping com- HAROUN