CHAPTER V.

_About spiders.――How they make their webs, set their nets, and other things._

There are a great many people who imagine that such little things as bees, bugs, butterflies, spiders and other insects, are unworthy of their notice; but this is a great mistake.

All these creatures have eyes, legs, feet, and other organs. They are all curiously contrived, like little machines, to creep, crawl or fly. They have all wonderful faculties; by which they are able to get a living, and to make themselves happy. They are, therefore, very interesting to all persons who will inquire into their structure and their habits.

These creatures are so common that we are apt to overlook them as unworthy of our notice; but Inquisitive Jack, the hero of our story, did not fall into this error. He had an inquiring mind, and nothing was beneath his observation.

He had already discovered that there were many curious and wonderful things, even in insects, flowers, and other common objects; and in the study of these, he found never-ceasing amusement.

These things were like a pleasing book, full of pretty stories and curious pictures, and every day he found some new and interesting page.

One morning, very soon after the sun had risen, he was walking along among some bushes; it was early summer, and a heavy dew had fallen. As he was going along, the thread of a spider, strung from one bush to another, came across his nose, and he broke it as he passed along.

Pretty soon, he met with other instances, in which the spiders’ threads were extended from one shrub to another. Now, Jack was always asking himself how such and such a thing is done; and he therefore began to inquire how these spiders could stretch a line across from one tree to another; for he observed that these threads were sometimes ten, or even fifteen feet from the ground, and that they extended often to as great a distance from the branch of one tree to that of another.

Jack’s habit of investigation had made him very ingenious in explaining things; but here was something quite beyond his reach. He could in no way explain what he saw.

“Strange!” said Jack to himself, “that these little insignificant spiders should know more than I do. I like to find out things myself, but I can’t explain this; so I must go and ask aunt Piper about it.”

As Jack turned on his heel to fulfil his resolution, he noticed another spider’s web, covered with dew. His attention now being excited to the subject, he turned round, and saw as many as fifty others, set like nets among the bushes and the tall grass.

Jack had seen these things before, but his attention had not been excited, and therefore he had not investigated them. He now set about the inquiry, with all the ardor of youthful curiosity.

He spent some time in observing the different kinds of webs, and then proceeded to his aunt to ask her about them. She accordingly sat down, took her knitting-work, and while she worked briskly at her needles, she gave Jack the information he desired. The best way to tell the story, is to put it in the form of a dialogue.

_Jack._ Oh! aunt Betsey, I’ve found something so curious! Do you know I’ve been looking at the spiders, and I want to have you tell me about them. Pray, where do they get their threads? and how do they weave their nets so curiously? and how do they fasten their thread to the leaves? and how do they stretch their threads from one tree to another? and what do they do it all for――for fun, or for business?

_Aunt P._ One question at a time, if you please, Jack.

_Jack._ Why, I want you to tell me all about the spiders.

_Aunt P._ But where shall I begin?

_Jack._ Oh! I don’t care where you begin――I want to have you tell me everything.

_Aunt P._ Well, Jack, I’ll tell you what I know, and I shall answer your last question first. The spiders, I suppose, make their nets both for fun and business, for pleasure and profit. These creatures are made to live chiefly upon flies, but they are themselves destitute of wings. They are, therefore, provided with the means of making nets, by which they can catch as many flies as they want.

Thus you see that God, who made the spiders, has provided them with a good trade, by which they can get a living. So it is, dear Jack, that Providence provides for everything――the wants of even the insects are supplied; nothing is overlooked, and we shall see, on investigation, what wonderful ingenuity and contrivance the Creator has resorted to, in order to take care even of such insignificant creatures as spiders.

_Jack._ I thank you, aunt Betsey, for that idea――it makes the spider much more interesting, when we consider it as the work of God.

_Aunt P._ Yes, that is true, my boy. Now, as the spiders spread their nets in order to get a living, or for business, as you express it, they do it also for pleasure――for business and pleasure usually go together.

It may be very agreeable to children to scamper about, just for the sake of a frolic, but, generally speaking, the path of pleasure is the path of utility――in other words, there is more real satisfaction in doing something that is useful, than in mere idle sport. It is so with human beings, and, no doubt, it is so with spiders.

_Jack._ Well, aunt Betsey, you have answered one of my questions; but pray tell me where the spiders get their threads. They must have an immense manufactory of it somewhere. Are any of them rope-makers?

_Aunt P._ Yes, Jack, every one of them. Each one spins his own thread, and this is the most wonderful part of the whole story. You observe that the lower part of a spider’s body consists of a round ball.

In this, nature provides the insect with a gummy substance, which is spun into thread. It somewhat resembles melted glass, for a coarse thread of it is brittle, when it becomes dry; while a fine thread is as flexible as the fibres of cotton or silk.

The manner in which this gum or paste, is twisted into threads, has occupied the attention of many philosophers. By looking at the process through magnifying glasses, it has been discovered that even the finest thread in the web of the spider consists of many hundred strands.

These are drawn out from the body of the insect, being then in a soft state, like paste, but they immediately unite, and form one compact cord. In some instances, it is said that a single thread consists of four thousand strands.

_Jack._ Whew! that sounds like a whapper.

_Aunt P._ Still, it is no doubt true. There are many things invisible to the naked eye, which are revealed to us by the aid of magnifying glasses.

With the naked eye, we cannot see more than a thousand stars in the sky; with a telescope, we can see millions of stars. To the naked eye, a glass of pure water is perfectly transparent; yet a microscope will show that it is full of little animals.

With the naked eye, we can see nothing but fibres in the stalk of a flower, but by the aid of a microscope, we can see there myriads of creeping things. So, by the aid of a microscope, we can easily discover the thousand strands of which the spider’s thread is composed.

_Jack._ Well, aunt Betsey, I am not going to dispute you, for I know that you have always a good reason for what you say. But, pray tell me, how do the spiders tie their lines to the leaves and grass?

_Aunt P._ They stick them on with a kind of glue, with which nature has provided them.

_Jack._ Well, how do they stretch their lines across from one tree to another?

_Aunt P._ When a spider wishes to build a bridge from one shrub to another, he climbs up to a certain height, and draws out a long, loose line, taking care to have it in such a situation that the wind will carry it across to some other tree.

The end of the floating line is provided with a gummy substance, and fastens itself at once to whatever it touches. When the spider finds that his line has caught, he pulls it, to see if it is fast. If it is loose, he draws it up till it is straight, and then fastens it with gum.

Having secured the line, the spider makes a bridge of it, and crosses over in perfect safety. He now goes backwards and forward, each time adding a thread, for the purpose of giving it strength.

This line is like the rope to a fisherman’s net, and the spider immediately begins to weave his net upon it. He proceeds to set several strings round somewhat like the spokes of a wheel, and these he binds together by a series of circular threads.

When the whole is done, he weaves a hole in some sly corner, into which he retreats; but the moment that a fly gets entangled in his net, he darts forth, binds him round and round like a prisoner, and carries him off to his den.

Such was the main part of the dialogue that passed between Jack and his aunt. The boy expressed great satisfaction for what she had told him, and then went away to take another walk in the fields.

[Illustration]

The Hoop; or Look ere you Leap.

See this boy with his hoop! How the hoop flies, and how the little fellow enjoys the fun! But take care, George! take care――there is a ditch before you!

But, alas, George is like other boys, so eager in his sport that he thinks of nothing else. On goes the hoop, and on goes George after it.

By-and-by, he comes to the ditch. The hoop bounds across, and poor George tumbles in! What a sight he is when he comes out――all over mud! Next time, George, look before you leap――or, in other words, be not so absorbed in your sport, as to forget everything else. Look a little before you, and see that you run into no danger.

This looking before, is what we call _prudence_. This heedless running on, without seeing where one is going, we call imprudence. A prudent person will seldom get into trouble; an imprudent person is very likely to get into a great deal.

George was an imprudent boy, and tumbled into the ditch. Let my young friends take warning by his mishap; let them cultivate prudence; in other words, let them look ere they leap.

[Illustration]

Hay-Making.

It is very pleasant to see the men at work making the hay and getting it into the barn. Do you not love to hear the mower whetting his scythe? Do you not love to see him swing his blade through the grass, and see it fall before him?

And how sweet is the fragrance of the new-mown hay! When it is dry, do you not love to see the men rake it into heaps; then toss it on to the cart and carry it away?

Hay-making is, indeed, a pleasant business, and it is very useful also. What would the poor cows and horses do in winter if they had no hay?

In winter, the grass is dead, the leaves have fallen from trees and shrubs, and the earth is covered with snow. If there were no hay in the barn, the horses, the cows, and the sheep would all perish.

We should then have no horse to draw us along in the sleigh; no cow to give us milk; no sheep to supply us with wool for clothing. Hay-making is therefore very important business.

What do you think the people do in very cold countries, where no grass grows? They are obliged to use reindeer, who feed on moss, and do not need hay. These creatures give milk, like cows; they draw sledges, like horses; and their flesh is as good as the beef of the ox.

[Illustration]

The Moth.

The moth looks like a butterfly, but it is not so beautiful. The moth usually flies by night, and the butterfly by day.

There are many kinds of moth; some are large and some are small. You often see moths flying into the lamp or candle, of a summer evening.

Persons who are so fond of pleasure as to injure themselves in the pursuit of it, are compared to the silly moth, which is dazzled with the light, flies into it, and perishes.

Pleasure is a good thing, and I love to see children pursue it――but some kinds of pleasure are dangerous, and are as fatal to young persons as the blaze of the lamp or candle to the heedless fly or moth.

Chapter on Spices.

_Q._ What are nutmegs?

_A._ The nutmeg is the kernel of a large, handsome tree, like a walnut. It is enclosed in the same sort of spongy coat as the walnut; the husk opens at one end, when the fruit is ripe.

_Q._ What is mace?

_A._ That which is found between the outer coat of the nutmeg and the kernel.

_Q._ What is cinnamon?

_A._ The dried bark of a tree which grows in the East Indies and the island of Ceylon.

_Q._ What is pepper?

_A._ The produce of a creeping plant which grows in Java, Sumatra and Malacca.

_Q._ What is ginger?

_A._ The root of a plant which grows in the East Indies.

_Q._ What are cloves?

_A._ The flower buds of a tree which grows in Malacca.

_Q._ What are carraway seeds?

_A._ The seeds of a plant growing wild in many countries.

* * * * *

IDLE MARY.

Oh, Mary, this will never do! This work is sadly done, my dear; And then so little of it too! You have not taken pains, I fear.

Oh no, your work has been forgotten, Indeed, you’ve hardly thought of that; I saw you roll your ball of cotton About the floor to please the cat.

See, here are stitches straggling wide And others reaching down so far; I’m very sure you have not tried In this, at least, to please mama.

The little girl who will not sew, Must neither be allowed to play; And then I hope, my love, that you Will take more pains another day.

[Illustration]

The Balloon.

Here is a picture of a balloon! It is a great silk bag, with a net around it. Fastened at the bottom of the net, is a little car, in which a man sits.

The balloon rises into the air, and the man in the car goes up with it. He sails along like a cloud; at first the balloon looks large, but it seems to grow less and less, and by-and-by it looks no larger than a fly. Then it disappears and is seen no more.

Now, what do you think it is that makes the balloon rise up into the air? It is a kind of gas, which is very light. The balloon is filled with this gas. You know that smoke is so light as to rise up in the air; but this gas is still lighter than smoke.

Perhaps you desire to know how the man gets his balloon down, when he has risen in it up to the clouds. I will tell you; he lets out a little of the gas, and down he comes. He must be careful to let out only a little at a time, so as to come down gradually; if he lets out too much, he will come down with a terrible thump.

* * * * *

SLEEPY HARRY.

“I do not like to go to bed,” Sleepy little Harry said; “Go, naughty Betty, go away, I will not come at all, I say!”

The little birds are better taught, They go to roosting when they ought; And all the ducks and fowls, you know They went to bed an hour ago.

The little beggar in the street, Who wanders with his naked feet, And has not where to lay his head, Oh, he’d be glad to go to bed.

MAMA AND BABY.

What a little thing am I! Hardly higher than the table; I can eat, and play, and cry, But to work I am not able.

Nothing in the world, I know, But mama will try and show me: Sweet mama, I love her so, She’s so very kind to me.

And she sets me on her knee, Very often, for some kisses: Oh! how good I’ll try to be, For such a dear mama as this is.

[Illustration]

The Harrow.

This is a picture of a man with a harrow. A harrow consists of several iron spikes fixed in a frame. When this is dragged over the ground, the spikes break the earth in pieces, and thus fit it to receive the seed.

If the seed be sown, then the harrow is used to cover it up in the earth. Perhaps my little readers do not care to hear about the harrow, but how can they have bread and butter without it?

We cannot have bread without wheat to make it of; and we cannot have wheat, unless the ground be duly ploughed and harrowed. So my young readers will see that the harrow is a good friend of theirs, however little they care about it.

Handsome is that handsome does.

_John._ Mama, I want something to look at; what can I have?

_Mother._ Why, my dear, cannot you find something in the room to look at――some pretty story-book, or amusing puzzle?

_J._ No, mama, I don’t want to read, or be puzzled either; and I have looked at the shells and fossils on the mantelpiece, and the gold fishes in the globe, and counted the window-panes and the flowers on the carpet twenty times, and I’ve been looking into the looking-glass for the last half hour.

_M._ Into the looking-glass, John! for what purpose?

_J._ That I might know how handsome I am, mama.

_M._ Why, do you really think that you are handsome?

_J._ Yes, mama; do not you?

_M._ Only sometimes.

_J._ Why――only sometimes, mama?

_M._ Because, John, you are only handsome when you are good; when you are naughty, you are a very ugly little fellow!

_J._ Why, mama, my hair is always curled, and my hands always white, and I am sure that my clothes are always very pretty.

_M._ Yes, my dear, that may be; but does any one love you more on this account?

_J._ I should think they do, mama.

_M._ Then let me tell you, my dear, that if a child be ever so pretty, and dressed ever so fine, he cannot be loved unless he is good. No person is pleasing to look at, who is naughty. A person who is naughty has a bad heart, and a bad heart usually spoils the face.

ROBERT MERRY’S

MUSEUM.

EDITED BY

S. G. GOODRICH,

AUTHOR OF PETER PARLEY’S TALES.

VOLUME VI.

BOSTON:

BRADBURY, SODEN, & CO.,

NO. 10, SCHOOL STREET.

1843.

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

CONTENTS OF VOLUME VI.

JULY TO DECEMBER, 1843.

A Midsummer Morning, 1 Listening, 2 Eugene Aram, 3 Bald Eagle, 10 Gallantry in a Dog, 11 Charon, 12 A Civilized Bear, 13 The Palisadoes, 14 A Real Hero, ” A Revolutionary Story, 15, 100, 133, 162 Having a Good Time, 16 Examination at Bow-street, 18 Honest Tar, ” July, 19 Jumping Rabbit’s Story, 20, 54, 65, 118, 140, 179 Passage of Mountains in India, 23 Whistling Tom, 24 Little Leaves, 25, 90, 121 The Giraffe, 25 The Arbor, 26 Fire-works at Rome, 28 Careless Nancy, ” Charity, 39 Inquisitive Jack, 30, 60, 94, 126, 152, 183 The 4th of July, 31 To Correspondents, 32 Hindostan, 33 Peter Somebody, &c., 34 George Washington, 35 London, Past and Present, 36 Whale Stories, 36, 78 The Life of Columbus, 41, 80, 114, 148, 171 Ancient Castles, 46 Æronautics, ” Eccentric Characters, 51, 71, 111 A Lost Elephant Found, 53 Anna Maria Schurman, ” An Indian Youth, ” Shenstone and the Robber, 56 George IV. and Lord Roden, ” The Old Oaken Bucket, 57 France, 58 The Moose, 59 The Race, 62 The Swing, 63 A Strange Bird, ” Letter, 64 September, 65 The Smuggler, 68 The Poet’s Dog, ” A Shark Story, 69 Mirage, 70 Punch and Judy, 73 Attakullakulla, 74 A Droll Mimic, 77 Turn the Carpet, 82 A Monkey Trick, 83 The Light of all Nations, 84 Varieties, ” Precocity of Frenchmen, 86 September Thoughts, 87 Politeness, 88 Chinese Filial Piety, ” To our Correspondents, 89 A True Story, ” Christ Healing the Sick, 90 Going to School, 92 The First Sailor, 93 A Child’s Philosophy, 96 October, 97 The Island of Hong Kong, 99 Tippoo Saib, ” The Blue Bird, 104 Keicher, 105 Green, 106 What is it to be Polite, ” Early Rising, 107 Pope Julius II., 108 Questions, 123 Old Age, ” The Sun, Moon and Stars, 124 What is Habit, 128 The Chickadee, ” A Long Chapter upon November, 129 Pierre Ramus, 131 The Musical Snuff-Box, 138 John Hancock, 139 The New London Exchange, 143 The Imperial Joss, 145 A Salt Water Scene, 147 The Shoulder of Mutton, ” Stomach of the Horse, 154 Patriotism, 155 The Wooden Horse, 156 Hannibal Crossing the Alps, 157 The Home of our Childhood, 158 Blessing on a Child, ” Varieties, 159 Our Correspondence, 160, 188 December, 161 Christmas, 168 Tasso’s Wish, 170 The Cat and the Mouse, 173 Fable of the Humming Bird and Butterfly, 177 Washington Irving’s Cottage, 179 The Close of the Year, 187

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1843, by S. G. GOODRICH, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.

MERRY’S MUSEUM.

Vol. VI. JULY, 1843. No. 1.

[Illustration]

A Midsummer Morning.

Who can tell the pleasures of a midsummer morning! In order fully to enjoy these, you must be up before the sun: you must hear the robin, when it timidly begins its song; and the sparrows, when, with a gentle _peep, peep_, they say good morning to one another,――and hop from bush to bush to see if all is well; and the boblink, when he clucks in the grass, just before he enters upon his song of “Tom Denny, Tom Denny;” and you must see the first red light which the sun throws upon the clouds and hill tops; you must hear all the joyous sounds that rise upward to heaven, as if in thanksgiving, from the birds, the insects, the cattle upon a thousand hills, and the voices of glad human beings, far and near; and you must have a heart to appreciate all this, as a sweet anthem of praise to God.

And you must have an eye that takes in the beauty of flowers and dew-drops around you, as well as of far-off landscapes, embracing hills and vales, cloud, sky and sea; your soul must be a pure canvass for the Almighty’s pencil; your ear a justly tuned instrument, for the touch of a Divine musician. Who can go forth of a midsummer morning, and not deeply feel the loveliness of nature, and the benignity of that Being, who in goodness has made it all?

It is well to hold communion with nature in her gentler moods; and I always esteem those persons happy who are brought up in the country, among green fields and shady woods, especially if they have friends around them, who can lift their thoughts, step by step, from nature up to nature’s God. This world, without a God, without a Creator, a Governor, a Preserver――would be indeed a mystery; but when we can connect all the wonders we behold with a great and good Being, who is at once our Father in heaven, and the Architect of the earth and the skies――these things acquire a new and touching interest.

Look at the children in the picture. The dew hangs on the stems of flowers and the leaves of shrubs, like myriads of trembling diamonds; the sun-light is gushing through the trees――a glorious flood of silver; the birds are pouring out their songs of merriment and affection. All around is beautiful. Happy children――lovely midsummer morning!

Listening.

Much has been said of the art of speaking, and comparatively little on the art of listening. Not to listen is an offence against the laws of politeness. Conversation is a species of commerce, where every one has a right to bring and to dispose of his commodities, and to supply others with what he supposes they stand in need of: therefore it ought to be an exchange――a barter.

If to listen is a duty towards others, it is also of the greatest utility and importance to ourselves. Complaisance in listening marks a wish to learn; he who does not like to listen, does not wish to learn the truth. _He who speaks, sows; he who listens, reaps._

Nothing is more acceptable and pleasing than the art of listening. We often see men of superior abilities prefer the society of those who are inferior, because they listen with respect. This does not originate in pride or vanity, but the mind is raised and inflamed by awakening attention and curiosity.

No one, on the contrary, is so displeasing and offensive, as he who refuses his attention, or who listens with a total want of respect and politeness. Some persons, as soon as you open your mouth, pretend to know what you would say, and appear impatient till you have done. Some take the words out of your mouth and contradict you sharply. Others will begin to talk to another person, call the servants, scold the children, or perhaps turn their backs and leave you.

An eastern sage was once relating his misfortunes to a statue. “Fool,” said a traveller, “do you suppose that cold marble hears you?” The sage replied, “I know the marble hears me not; but, at least, it does not interrupt me.”

There is a proper way of listening; not that of the stupid and ignorant, who, at every trifling word, open their eyes and cry out, a miracle; nor that of those who smile and applaud as soon as you begin to speak. These resemble some persons who would applaud at a theatre as soon as the candles are lighted. We must esteem those who listen to us, in order to aspire to their praises, and to acquire in their company the fire of eloquence, and the desire to please.

Listening properly is appearing to observe, to approve, and to be pleased; a sensible remark, a delicate compliment, a few words apparently suggested by those of others, a single word introduced with propriety, and even an intelligent and animated look, a smile of approbation; in short, that air of attention, of interest, of esteem, when a person is talking to us, is the greatest compliment we can pay.

[Illustration]

Eugene Aram.

The life of this man is fraught with deep interest, and affords a striking moral. Though born in humble circumstances, and therefore only provided with the means of a narrow education, by the force of talent and industry he improved his mind and made himself master of a wide field of knowledge.

His station was now respectable in the eyes of the world, and he had all the requisite means to ensure happiness. One thing, only, did he lack; yet, that thing which is necessary to the preservation of every earthly good――virtue. In an evil hour he was tempted to the commission of a horrid crime. Though this was shielded by darkness; though years rolled away without suspicion or detection; though a fair outside was carefully preserved; though he left the scene of his depravity, and doubtless believed he had forever buried his guilt in oblivion――still the All-seeing Eye was upon him, and He who rules over events, as if to show how vain is human ingenuity in attempting to shelter the murderer, at last brought him to justice. On his trial he displayed wonderful powers of reasoning, but even these, now, only served to heighten his guilt in the eyes of mankind. How short-sighted is the man who attempts to attain happiness by unlawful means; which, even if successful, must make every cup of life bitter as gall; and, if unsuccessful, must bring judgment, and agony, and shame.

During the confinement of this remarkable person on the charge of murder, he wrote an account of his own life, from which we learn that one of his ancestors had been high sheriff of Yorkshire, in the reign of king Edward the third; but the family, having been gradually reduced, his father occupied a humble station in life. The son, however, was sent to a school near Ripon, where he perfected himself in writing and arithmetic, and then went to London to officiate as clerk to a merchant.

After a residence of two years in town, he was seized with the small-pox, which left him in so weak a condition, that he went back to Yorkshire for the recovery of his health. On his recovery, he found it necessary to do something for immediate subsistence; and, accordingly engaged himself as usher to a boarding-school; but, not having been taught the learned languages in his youth, he was obliged to supply by industry what he had failed to obtain from neglect. Thus, while teaching writing and arithmetic, by employing all his leisure hours in the most intense study, he at length became an excellent Greek and Latin scholar. In the year 1734, he engaged to officiate as steward of an estate belonging to Mr. Norton, of Knaresborough; and while in this station he acquired a competent knowledge of the Hebrew. At this period he married, but was far from being happy in his matrimonial connection.

We shall now relate the circumstances which led to the commission of the crime which cost Aram his life. Daniel Clarke, a shoemaker at Knaresborough, after being married a few days, circulated a report that his wife was entitled to a considerable fortune, which he should soon receive. Hereupon, Aram and Richard Houseman, conceiving hopes of making advantage of this circumstance, persuaded Clarke to make an ostentatious show of his own riches, to induce his wife’s relations to give him that fortune of which he had boasted.

Clarke was easily induced to comply with a hint so agreeable to his own desires; on which he borrowed and bought on credit, a large quantity of silver plate, with jewels, watches, rings, &c. He told the persons of whom he purchased, that a merchant in London had sent him an order to buy such plate for exportation; and no doubt was entertained of his credit till his sudden disappearance in February, 1745, when it was imagined that he had gone abroad or to London, to dispose of his ill-acquired property.

When Clarke was possessed of these goods, Aram and Houseman determined to murder him, in order to share the booty; and on the night of the 8th of February, 1745, they persuaded Clarke to walk with them in the fields, in order to consult with them on the proper method to dispose of the effects.

On this plan they walked into a field, at a small distance from the town, by the name of St. Robert’s Cave. When they came into this field, Aram and Clarke went over a hedge towards the cave, and when they had got within six or seven yards of it, Houseman (by the light of the moon) saw Aram strike Clarke several times, and at length beheld him fall, but never saw him afterwards. This was the state of the affair, if Houseman’s testimony on the trial is to be credited.

The murderers, going home, shared Clarke’s ill-gotten treasure, the half of which Houseman concealed in his garden for a twelvemonth, and then took it to Scotland, where he sold it. In the mean time Aram carried his share to London, where he sold it to a Jew, and then engaged himself as an usher at an academy in Piccadilly; where, in the intervals of his duty in attending to scholars, he made himself master of the French language, and acquired some knowledge of Arabic and other eastern tongues.

After this he was usher at other schools in different parts of the kingdom; but as he did not correspond with his friends in Yorkshire, it was presumed that he was dead. The sudden disappearance of Clarke had long been forgotten; but, in the year 1758, as a man was digging for limestone near St. Robert’s Cave, he found the bones of a human body, and a conjecture hereupon arose that they were the remains of Clarke, who, it was now presumed, might have been murdered.

Houseman, having been seen in company with Clarke a short time before his disappearance, was apprehended on suspicion; and, on his examination, giving but too evident signs of his guilt, he was committed to York castle. The bones of the deceased being shown to him, he denied that they were those of Clarke, but directed to the precise spot where he said they were deposited, and where they were accordingly found. The skull, being fractured, was preserved, to be produced in evidence on the trial.

Soon after Houseman was committed to the castle of York, it was discovered that Aram lived at Lynn, in Norfolk; on which, a warrant was granted for taking him into custody; and, being apprehended while instructing some young gentlemen at a school, he was conveyed to York, and likewise committed to the castle. At the Lent assizes following, the prosecutors were not ready with their evidence; on which he was remanded till the summer assizes, when he was brought to trial.

When Houseman had given his evidence respecting this extraordinary affair, and all such collateral testimony had been taken as could be adduced on such an occasion, Aram was called on for his defence; but, having foreseen that the perturbation of his spirits would incapacitate him to make such a defence without previous preparation, he had written the following, which, by permission, he read in court:――

“My Lord:――I know not whether it is of right, or through some indulgence of your lordship, that I am allowed the liberty at this bar to attempt a defence, incapable and uninstructed as I am, to speak. Since, while I see so many eyes upon me, so numerous and awful a concourse, fixed with attention, and filled with――I know not what expectancy, I labor not with guilt, my lord, but with perplexity. For having never seen a court but this――being wholly unacquainted with law――the customs of the bar, and all judiciary proceedings, I fear I shall be so little capable of speaking with propriety in this place, that it exceeds my hope if I shall be able to speak at all.

“I have heard, my lord, the indictment read, wherein I find myself charged with the highest crime――with an enormity which I am altogether incapable of――to the commission of which, there goes far more insensibility of heart, more profligacy of morals, than ever fell to my lot. And nothing possibly could have admitted a presumption of this nature, but a depravity not inferior to that imputed to me. However, as I stand indicted at your lordship’s bar, and have heard what is called evidence adduced in support of such a charge, I very humbly solicit your lordship’s patience, and beg the hearing of this respectable audience, while I, single and unskilful――destitute of friends, and unassisted by counsel, say something perhaps like argument in my defence. I shall consume but little of your lordship’s time. What I have to say, will be short, and this brevity, probably, will be the best part of it; however, it is offered with all possible regard, and the greatest submission to your lordship’s consideration, and that of this honorable court.

“First, my lord, the whole tenor of my conduct in life contradicts every particular of this indictment. Yet, I had never said this, did not my present circumstances extort it from me, and seem to make it necessary. Permit me here, my lord, to call upon malignity itself, so long and cruelly busied in this prosecution, to charge upon me any immorality of which prejudice was not the author. No, my lord, I concerted no scheme of fraud; projected no violence, injured no man’s person or private property; my days were honestly laborious, my nights intensely studious. And I humbly conceive my notice of this, especially at this time, will not be thought impertinent or unseasonable, but at least deserving some attention; because, my Lord, that any person, after a temperate use of life, a series of thinking and acting regularly, without one single deviation from sobriety, should plunge into the very depth of profligacy, precipitately, and at once, is altogether improbable and unprecedented, and absolutely inconsistent with the course of things. Mankind is never corrupted at once; villany is always progressive, and declines from right, step after step, till every regard of probity is lost, and every sense of all moral obligation totally perishes.

“Again, my lord, a suspicion of this kind, which nothing but malevolence could entertain and ignorance propagate, is violently opposed by my very situation at that time, with respect to health; for, but a little space before, I was confined to my bed, and suffered under a very long and severe disorder, and was not able, for half a year together, so much as to walk. The distemper left me, indeed, yet slowly and in part; but so macerated, so enfeebled, that I was reduced to crutches; and so far from being well about the time I am charged with the fact, that I never, to this day, have perfectly recovered. Could then a person in this condition, take anything into his head so extravagant? I, past the vigor of my age, feeble and valetudinary, with no inducement to engage, with no ability to accomplish, no weapon wherewith to perpetrate such a feat; without interest, without power, without motive, without means.

“Besides, it must need occur to every one, that an action of this atrocious nature is never heard of, but, when its springs are laid open, it appears that it was to support some indolence, or supply some luxury; to satisfy some avarice, or oblige some malice; to prevent some real or some imaginary want: yet I lay not under the influence of any of these. Surely, my lord, I may, consistently with both truth and modesty, affirm this much; and none who have any veracity, and know me, will ever question it.

“In the second place, the disappearance of Clarke is suggested as an argument of his being dead; but the uncertainty of such an inference from that, and the fallibility of all conclusions of such a sort, from such a circumstance, are too obvious and too notorious, to require instances; yet, superseding many, permit me to procure a very recent one, and that afforded by this castle.

“In June, 1757, William Thompson, for all the vigilance of this place, in open day-light, and double-ironed, made his escape; and, notwithstanding an immediate inquiry set on foot, the strictest search and all advertisement, was never seen or heard of since. If, then, Thompson got off unseen through all these difficulties, how very easy was it for Clarke, when none of them opposed him? But what would be thought of a prosecution commenced against any one seen last with Thompson?

“Permit me next, my lord, to observe a little upon the bones which have been discovered. It is said, which perhaps is saying very far, that these are the skeleton of a man. It is possible, indeed, they may; but is there any certain criterion, which incontestably distinguishes the sex in human bones? Let it be considered, my lord, whether the ascertaining this point ought not to precede any attempt to identify them.

“The place of their depositum, too, claims much more attention than is commonly bestowed upon it; for of all places in the world none could have mentioned any one, wherein there was greater certainty of finding human bones than a hermitage, except he should point out a church-yard; hermitages, in times past, being not only places of religious retirement, but of burial too. And it has scarce or never been heard of, but that every cell now known, contains or contained these relics of humanity, some mutilated and some entire. I do not inform, but give me leave to remind your lordship, that here sat solitary sanctity, and here the hermit or the anchoress, who hoped for that repose to their bones, when dead, which they here enjoyed when living.

“All the while, my lord, I am sensible this is known to your lordship and many in this court, better than to me. But it seems necessary to my case, that others who have not at all, perhaps, adverted to things of this nature, and may take an interest in my trial, should be made acquainted with it. Suffer me, then, my lord, to produce a few of many evidences, that these cells were used as repositories of the dead, and to enumerate a few in which human bones have been found, as it happened in this question; lest to some that accident might seem extraordinary, and, consequently, occasion prejudice.

“1st. The bones, as was supposed of the Saxon, St. Dubritius, were discovered buried in his cell, at Guy’s Cliff, near Warwick, as appears from the authority of Sir William Dugdale.

“2d. The bones, thought to be those of the anchoress Rosia, were but lately discovered in a cell at Royston, entire, fair, and undecayed, though they must have lain interred for several centuries, as is proved by Dr. Stukeley.

“3d. But my own country, nay, almost this neighborhood, supplies another instance, for, in January, 1747, were found, by Mr. Stovin, accompanied by a reverend gentleman, the bones in part of some recluse, in the cell at Lindholm, near Hatfield. They were supposed to be those of William of Lindholm, a hermit, who had long made this cave his habitation.

“4th. In February, 1744, part of Woburn abbey being pulled down, a large portion of a corpse appeared, even with the flesh on, which bore cutting with a knife; though it is certain this had lain above two hundred years, and how much longer is doubtful; for the abbey was founded in 1145, and dissolved in 1538 or 39.

“What would have been said, what believed, if this had been an accident to the bones in question?

“Farther, my lord, it is not yet out of living memory, that a little distance from Knaresborough, in a field, part of the manor of the worthy and patriotic baronet who does that borough the honor to represent it in parliament, were found, in digging for gravel, not one human skeleton only, but five or six, deposited side by side, with each an urn placed at its head, as your lordship knows was usual in ancient interments.

“About the same time, and in another field, almost close to this borough, was discovered also, in searching for gravel, another human skeleton; but the piety of the same worthy gentleman ordered both pits to be filled up again, commendably unwilling to disturb the dead.

“Is the invention of these bones forgotten, then, or industriously concealed, that the discovery of those in question may appear the more singular and extraordinary? whereas, in fact, there is nothing extraordinary in it. My lord, almost every place conceals such remains. In fields, in hills, in highway sides, in commons, lie frequent and unsuspected bones. And our present allotments for rest for the departed, are but of some centuries.

“Another particular seems not to claim a little of your lordship’s notice, and that of the gentlemen of the jury; which is, that perhaps no example occurs of more than one skeleton being found in one cell; and in the cell in question was found but one; agreeable, in this, to the peculiarity of every other known cell in Britain. Not the invention of one skeleton, but of two, would have appeared suspicious and uncommon.

“But it seems another skeleton has been discovered by some laborer, which was full as confidently averred to be Clarke’s as this. My lord, must some of the living, if it promotes some interest, be made answerable for all the bones that earth has concealed, and chance exposed? and might not a place where bones lay, be mentioned by a person by chance, as well as found by a laborer by chance? or is it more criminal accidentally to name where bones lie, than accidentally to find where they lie?

“Here, too, is a human skull produced, which is fractured; but was this the cause, or was it the consequence of death? was it owing to violence, or was it the effect of natural decay? If it was violence, was it before or after death? My lord, in May, 1732, the remains of William, lord archbishop of this province, were taken up, by permission, in this cathedral, and the bones of the skull were found broken; yet certainly he died by no violence offered to him alive, that could occasion that fracture there.

“Let it be considered, my lord, that upon the dissolution of religious houses, and the commencement of the reformation, the ravages of those times affected both the living and the dead. In search after imaginary treasures, coffins were broken up, graves and vaults dug open, monuments ransacked, and shrines demolished; and it ceased about the beginning of the reign of queen Elizabeth. I entreat your lordship, suffer not the violences, the depredations, and iniquities of those times to be imputed to this.

“Moreover, what gentleman is ignorant that Knaresborough had a castle; which, though now a ruin, was once considerable, both for its strength and garrison? All know it was vigorously besieged by the arms of parliament; at which siege, in sallies, conflicts, flights, pursuits, many fell in the places round it, and where they fell, were buried; for every place, my lord, is burial earth in war; and many, questionless, of these, rest yet unknown, whose bones futurity shall yet discover.

“I hope, with all imaginable submission, that what has been said will not be thought impertinent to this indictment; and that it will be far from the wisdom, the learning, and the integrity of this place, to impute to the living, what zeal in its fury may have done; what nature may have done; what nature may have taken off, and piety interred; or what war alone may have destroyed, alone deposited.

“As to the circumstances that have been raked together, I have nothing to observe, but that all circumstances whatever, are precarious, and have too frequently been found lamentably fallible; even the strongest have failed. They may rise to the utmost degree of probability, yet they are but probability still. Why need I name to your lordship the two Harrisons, recorded by Dr. Howel, who both suffered upon circumstances, because of the sudden disappearance of their lodger, who was in credit, had contracted debts, borrowed money, and went off unseen, and returned a great many years after their execution? Why name the intricate affair of Jacques de Moulin, under king Charles II., related by a gentleman who was counsel for the crown? and why the unhappy Coleman, who suffered innocent, though convicted upon positive evidence, and whose children perished for want, because the world uncharitably believed the father guilty? Why mention the perjury of Smith, incautiously admitted king’s evidence, who, to screen himself, equally accused Faircloth and Loveday of the murder of Dunn; the first of whom, in 1749, was executed at Winchester; and Loveday was about to suffer at Reading, had not Smith been proved to be perjured, to the satisfaction of the court, by the surgeon of the Gosport hospital?

“Now, my lord, having endeavored to show that the whole of this process is altogether repugnant to every part of my life; that it is inconsistent with my condition of health about that time; that no rational inference can be drawn that a person is dead who suddenly disappears; that hermitages were the constant repositories of the bones of the recluse; that the revolutions in religion, or the fortunes of war, have mangled or buried the dead; the conclusion remains, perhaps no less reasonably than impatiently wished for. I, at last, after a year’s confinement, equal to either fortune, put myself upon the candor, the justice, and the humanity of your lordship, and upon yours, my countrymen, gentlemen of the jury.”

Aram was tried by Judge Noel, who, having remarked that this defence was one of the most ingenious pieces of reasoning that had ever fallen under his notice, summed up the evidence to the jury, who gave a verdict of guilty; in consequence of which he received sentence of death.

After conviction, a clergyman was appointed to attend him, and to exhort him to an ample confession. Aram appeared to pay proper attention to what was said, but after the minister had retired, he formed the resolution of destroying himself; and when the morning appointed for his execution arrived, the keeper, on proceeding to take him out of his cell, was surprised to find him almost expiring through loss of blood, having cut his left arm, above the elbow and near the wrist, with a razor. A surgeon being sent for, stopped the bleeding; but when he was taken to the place of execution, he was so very weak as to be unable to join in devotion with the clergyman who attended him.

On the table in his cell was found the following paper, containing his reasons for attempting to commit suicide:――“What am I better than my fathers? To die is natural and necessary. Perfectly sensible of this, I fear no more to die than I did to be born. But the manner of it is something which should, in my opinion, be decent and manly. I think I have regarded both these points. Certainly nobody has a better right to dispose of man’s life than himself; and he, not others, should determine how. As for any indignities offered to my body, or silly reflections on my faith and morals, they are, as they always were, things indifferent to me. I think, though contrary to the common way of thinking, I wrong no man by this, and hope it is not offensive to the eternal Being that formed me and the world: and as by this, I injure no man, no man can reasonably be offended. I solicitously recommend myself to the eternal and almighty Being, the God of nature, if I have done amiss. But perhaps I have not; and I hope this thing will never be imputed to me. Though I am now stained by malevolence, and suffer by prejudice, I hope to rise fair and unblemished. My life was not polluted, my morals were irreproachable, and my opinions orthodox. I slept sound till three o’clock, awaked, and wrote these lines:――

“Come, pleasing rest, eternal slumber, fall, Seal mine, that once must seal the eyes of all; Calm and composed my soul her journey takes, No guilt that troubles, and no heart that aches; Adieu! thou sun, all bright like her arise; Adieu! fair friends, and all that’s good and wise.”

In some of the accounts published of Aram’s trial, a letter is quoted, as written to one of his friends, confessing his guilt; but this document is understood to have been forged for the purpose of pleasing the illiterate jurymen who condemned him, and who were incapable of appreciating the admirable reasoning contained in his defence. He was executed near York, on the 6th of August, 1759, and afterwards hung in chains in Knaresborough forest.

* * * * *

“A little word in kindness spoken, A motion or a tear, Has often healed the heart that’s broken, And made a friend sincere.

A word, a look, has crushed to earth Full many a budding flower, Which, had a smile but owned its birth, Would bless life’s darkest hour.

Then deem it not an idle thing, A pleasant word to speak; The face you wear, the thoughts you bring, A heart may heal, or break.”

[Illustration]

Bald Eagle.

The White-headed or Bald Eagle is spread over nearly the whole northern part of America, but abounds particularly near the falls of Niagara, where it subsists on fish and on such animals as are accidentally floated down the stream. It also feeds upon pigs, lambs, fawns, and other small animals that it can overpower. It builds its nest on the top of a tall tree, of sticks, weeds, and moss. The young are usually three in number, and do not, like many other birds, leave the nest till they are fully fledged. The parent birds are very fierce in their defence, and feed them with the greatest assiduity.

This splendid bird is about three feet long, and seven feet from the tip of one wing to the other. The head, neck and tail are pure white, the rest of the plumage is nearly black. The representation of the Bald Eagle forms the national emblem of the United States. The mode in which this bird obtains his prey is thus graphically described by Audubon. The scene is in Mississippi, and the eagle is perched on the top of the tallest tree, on the margin of the stream.

“The wild, trumpet-like sound of a yet distant but approaching swan is heard. The eagle shakes the whole of his body, and with a few touches of his bill, he arranges his plumage in an instant. The snow-white bird is now in sight; her long neck is stretched forward; her eye is on the watch, vigilant as that of her enemy; her large wings seem with difficulty to support the weight of her body, although they flap incessantly. So irksome do her exertions seem, that her legs are spread beneath her tail to aid her flight. She approaches, however. The eagle has marked her for his prey. As the swan is passing, he 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 manœuvres, to elude the grasp of his cruel talons; it mounts, doubles, and willingly would plunge into the stream, were it not prevented by the eagle, which, long possessed of the knowledge that by such a stratagem the swan might escape him, forces it to remain in the air by attempting to strike it with its talons from beneath.

“The hope of escape is soon given up by the swan. It has already become much weakened, and its strength fails at the sight of the courage and strength 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 in a slanting direction upon the nearest shore. He presses down his powerful feet, and drives his sharp claws deep into the heart of the dying swan. He then, with his mate, gorges himself with the blood of the luckless victim.”

Gallantry in a Dog.

The following anecdote, told by Mr. B. S. Johnson, is very curious, as evincing another proof of the sagacity of the dog.

“When twelve years old, my dog had attained a greater size and strength than ordinary, and, prior to this period, had shown many indications of astonishing sagacity. He had become exceedingly attached to the female part of my family, and particularly to the children. A little daughter, a child about six years old, attended a school at the distance of quarter of a mile, to which the dog uniformly accompanied her every morning, as well as at noon; and as soon as he had conducted his charge safely into the house, he returned home.

“Pursuing this system for a short time, he was soon not content with guarding the child to school, but began to escort her home. Twelve o’clock was the hour at which the children left the school, for the purpose of returning home to dinner; a few minutes before which, Frank,――for that was the name by which the animal was distinguished,――trotted away, with elevated tail, and placing himself in front of the school, waited patiently till the little throng came out, when he eagerly selected his charge, and guarded her home with all the pride imaginable.

“At five o’clock in the afternoon, a similar scene took place. It was amusing, indeed it was highly interesting, to witness the performance of these operations, by this sagacious and affectionate creature. I have many times watched it with unspeakable pleasure. About ten minutes before twelve and five o’clock, (how the creature contrived to calculate the time so accurately, I am not able to say,) Frank left my premises, and in a minute or two appeared before the door of the school, where, squat on his haunches, he attentively waited the opening of the door.

“On such occasions, the children are crowded together, and Frank might now be observed among them busily employed in selecting his charge. Dogs never appear fully satisfied of the identity of any one, till they have exercised their olfactory organs, as well as their orbs of vision, on the subject of their solicitude; and therefore Frank always took a few grateful sniffs before he took his order of march, which was a few yards in advance, with elevated tail, and evidently in all the pride of satisfactory duty.

“On the appearance of any person or animal from which danger was to be apprehended, the dog came close to the child, and forbade near approach; he was particularly suspicious of the proximity of a beggar, or any mean or ruffianly person.”

[Illustration]

Charon.

In a former number, we have given some account of the heathen deities: we must now say a few words of old Charon, whom the ancients considered one of the gods of Hell. He was supposed to be the son of Erebus or Darkness, and Nox or Night,――and his duty was to conduct the souls of the dead in a boat over the river Styx, to the infernal regions. He was, therefore, a ferryman, and received a penny for each passenger. Such souls, however, as had not been honored with a funeral, were not permitted to enter Charon’s boat, without previously wandering on the shore for one hundred years. Accordingly, the ancients thought it a dreadful thing to have no burial.

If the soul of any person presented himself to cross the Stygian river, he could not be admitted before he showed Charon a golden bough, which he had received from the Sibyl. This law was so strict, that Charon was once imprisoned for a year, because he ferried over Hercules, without the passport. It did not matter that he was forced to do it by the hero.

Charon is represented in the ancient descriptions as an old robust man, with a hideous countenance, long white beard, and piercing eyes. His garment is ragged and filthy, and his forehead is covered with wrinkles. As all the dead were obliged to pay a small piece of money for their admission to the boat, it was always usual among the ancients to place under the tongue of the deceased a piece of money for Charon.

This fable of Charon and his boat, which became a part of the religious creed of the Greeks and Romans, was borrowed from the Egyptians, whose dead were carried across a lake, where sentence was passed upon them, and, according to their good or bad actions, they were honored with a splendid burial, or left unnoticed in the open air.

[Illustration]

A Civilized Bear.

In New Hampshire, a species of bear is found, black in color, small in size, and in general of a peaceable disposition. These animals live on wild honey and fruits, and never attack man or the lesser animals, except when pressed by hunger, in the very severe winters. On one occasion, some years ago, a boy found a very young bear pup near Lake Winnipeg, and carried it home with him. It was fed and brought up about the house of the boy’s father, and became as tame as a dog.

Every day its youthful captor had to go to school at some distance, and, by degrees, the bear became his daily companion. At first the other scholars were shy of the creature’s acquaintance, but ere long it became their regular playfellow, and they delighted in sharing with it the little store of provisions, which they brought for their day’s sustenance in small bags. After two years of civilization, however, the bear wandered to the woods, and did not return. Search was made for him, but in vain.

Four succeeding years passed away, and in the interval, changes had occurred in the school alluded to. An old dame had succeeded to the ancient master, and a new generation of pupils had taken the place of the former ones. One very cold winter day, while the schoolmistress was busy with her humble lessons, a boy chanced to leave the door half way open on his entrance, and suddenly a large bear walked in.

The consternation of the old lady and her boys and girls, was unspeakable. Both schoolmistress and pupils would fain have been “abroad,” but the bear was in the path, and all that could be done was to fly off as far as possible, behind the tables and benches. But the bear troubled nobody. He walked quietly up to the fireplace, and warmed himself, exhibiting much satisfaction in his countenance during the process.

He remained thus about a quarter of an hour, and then walked up to the wall where the provender bags and baskets of the pupils were suspended. Standing on his hind feet, he then took hold of these successively, put his paws into them, and made free with the bread, fruit, and other eatables therein contained. He next tried the schoolmistress’s desk, where some little provisions usually were; but finding it firmly shut, he went up again to the fire, and after a few minutes’ stay before it, he walked out by the way he came in.

As soon as the schoolmistress and her pupils had courage to move, the alarm was given to the neighbors. Several young men immediately started after the bear, and as its track was perfectly visible upon the snow, they soon came up with it and killed it. Then it was that, by certain marks upon its skin, some of its pursuers recognised in the poor bear no enemy, but an old friend of their own recent school days. Great regret was felt at the loss of the creature. It was like killing a human friend, rather than a wild animal.

[Illustration]

The Palisadoes.

Some of the finest scenery in this country is found on the banks of the Hudson river; but the _Palisadoes_, as they are called, are not only beautiful, they are indeed one of the curiosities of nature. They consist of steep rocks, formed like a vast wall, and constituting the western bank of the river, from twelve to twenty miles above the city of New York.

As you pass by in the steamboat, the Palisadoes cannot fail to excite your wonder. Though the rocks are so high as to seem almost like mountains, yet they are often so regular as to look like works of art. You can hardly persuade yourself, indeed, that they are not cut by the hand of man. If, however, you go upon these rocks, you will see that they are too vast a work for any other than an Almighty hand.

A real Hero.

A great inundation having taken place in the north of Italy, owing to an excessive fall of snow in the Alps, followed by a speedy thaw, the river Adige carried off a bridge near Verona, except the middle part, on which was the house of the toll-gatherer, or porter, I forget which, and who, with his whole family, thus remained imprisoned by the waves, and in momentary danger of destruction.

They were discovered, stretching forth their hands, screaming and imploring succor, while fragments of the remaining arch were continually falling into the water. In this extreme danger, a nobleman who was present, held out a purse of one hundred sequins, as a reward to any adventurer who would take a boat, and deliver this unhappy family. But the risk was so great of being borne down by the rapidity of the stream, or being dashed against the fragments of the bridge, or of being crushed by the falling stones, that not one, in the vast number of spectators, had courage enough to attempt such an exploit.

A peasant passing along was informed of the proposed reward. Immediately jumping into a boat, he, by strength of oars, gained the middle of the river, brought his boat under the pile, and the whole family safely descended by means of a rope. “Courage,” cried he; “now you are safe.” By a still more strenuous effort, and great strength of arm, he brought the family and boat to shore.

“Brave fellow!” exclaimed the count, handing the purse to him; “here is the promised recompense.” “I shall never expose my life for money,” said the peasant. “My labor is a sufficient livelihood for myself, my wife and my children. Give the purse to this poor family, who have lost all!”

A Revolutionary Story.