interpreting the sentence upon it as a literal statement of fact, has been so prevalent, as to have affected some of the zoological treatises of the last century. Thus, in a Natural History of Serpents,' by Charles Owen, D.D., published in 1742, the author, treating of the food of these reptiles, writes, That dust was not the original food of the serpent, seems evident from the Paradisaic serpent, but the necessary consequence of the change made in the manner of its motion, i. e., the prone posture of its body, by which it is doomed to live upon food intermixed with earth.' Adam Clark, commenting more recently upon the record in its literal sense, seeks to elude the difficulties which thence arise, by contending that the Hebrew, But we find him reduced to the necessity of glossing the text by such expositions, as that to go on the belly means on all fours;' and by affirming, of the arboreal frugiverous four-handed monkeys, that they are obliged to gather their food from the ground,' we have a lively instance of the straits to which the commentator is reduced who attempts to penetrate deeper than the Word warrants into the nature of that mysterious beginning of crime and punishment, by the dim light of an imperfect and secondhand knowledge of the Divine works. If, indeed, the laws of animated nature formed part of the preliminary studies of the theologist, the futility of such attempts to expound the third chapter of Genesis, viewed as a simple narration of facts, would be better appreciated by him; and, if he should still be prompted to append his thoughts, as so many lamps by the side of the sacred text, he would most probably restrict himself to the attempt to elucidate its symbolical signification. whom were a class of usurers, acting under the license and favour of the pope, and therefore likely to obtain, in their lending transactions, more support than the detested Jews. With such rivals, the case of the Jews was hopeless; and, as if for the purpose of adding insult to their misery, we soon after find the king assigning them to the Caturcensian merchants in security for certain advances which they had made to his son Edward. In summing up his description of the exactions which were imposed on them during this reign, one historian pathetically asks, 'Did the forefathers of this unhappy people, think you, meet with more rigorous task-masters in Egypt? They were only called upon to make brick, but nothing less than gold seems to have been expected from the Jews in Eng-‘nachash,' may be translated 'ape' as well as 'serpent.' land.' The last evidence we shall give of the degradation of the position into which they had sunk in the latter part of the reign of Henry III., is to be found in the terms of the following decree:-The king provides and decrees that no Jew can remain in England unless he becomes the servant of the king, and that so soon as any Jew, whether male or female, is born, he becomes his servant that no Jewish synagogue is permitted in England, except in those places in which such synagogues were in the time of our father, King John-that all Jews celebrate the rites of their synagogue in a subdued voice, so that Christians may not hear them-that every Jew must account to the rector of the parish in which he lives for all the tithes attached to the house in which he lives-that no Christian woman may suckle or nurse the child of a Jew-that no Christian may be the servant of a Jew-that he may not eat in the company of Jews, nor dwell in the same house-that no Jew may speak disparagingly of the Christian faith, nor publicly dispute concerning it-that every Jew wear a distinguishing badge that no Jew may enter into any church or chapel nisi transeundo, or remain in it in vituperium Christi-that no Jew offer any obstacle to a Jew willing to turn to the Christian faith, and that no Jew shall be received in any town without the king's special license, except in those towns in which Jews are accustomed to dwell.' All these laws they were compelled to observe, under the penalty of forfeiting all their possessions. The remaining history of the Jews, previously to their banishment, affords no points of interest. Deprived, by the famous statute de Judaismo, of the power of entering into usurious transactions, we are told that they took to clipping the coin and forging-charges which, true or false, formed the alleged ground of their banishment from England by King Edward. From the effects of this decree of banishment the Jews were not relieved till the reign of Charles II., when the convenience of an extravagant court required the sacrifice of its bigoted principles. Since that date, they have continued to take a considerable share in the commercial enterprise of the kingdom. THE SERPENT OF THE BIBLE. PROFESSOR OWEN, the distinguished English naturalist, in his work on British reptiles, makes the following remarks on the serpent of the Bible:-The discovery of serpents of different genera and species, all manifesting the peculiar and characteristic vertebral organisation of true Ophidia, at a period incalculably remote from that at which we have any evidence of the existence of man, viz., the eocene tertiary, forcibly recalls our early ideas of the nature and origin of serpents derived from annotations of Scripture, which represented them as the progeny of a transmuted species, degraded from its originally created form as the consequence and punishment of its instrumentality in the temptation of Eve. The curse upon the serpent,' say the learned Drs D'Oily and Mant, consisted, 1st, in bringing down his stature, which was probably in a great measure erect before this time- Upon thy belly shalt thou go;' 2dly, in the meanness of his provision, and dust shalt thou eat,' insomuch as, creeping upon the ground, it cannot but lick up much dust with its food.' The idea of the special degradation of the serpent to its actual form, derived from What geology and anatomy have unfolded of the nature of serpents, in regard to their present condition, amounts to this: that their parts are as exquisitely adjusted to the form of the whole, and to their habits and sphere of life, as is the organisation of any animal which we call superior to them. It is true the serpent has no limbs, yet it can outclimb the monkey, outswim the fish, outleap the jerboa, and, suddenly loosing the close coils of its crouching spiral, it can spring into the air and seize the bird upon the wing: thus all these creatures fall its prey. The serpent has neither hands nor talons, yet it can outwrestle the athlete, and crush the tiger in its folds. Far from licking up its food as it glides along, the serpent lifts up its crushed prey, and presents it, grasped in the death-coil as in the hand, to the gaping, slime-dropping mouth. It is truly wonderful to see the work of hands, feet, fins, performed by a simple modification of the vertebral column in a multiplication of its joints, with mobility of its ribs. As serpents move chiefly on the surface of the earth, their danger is greatest from pressure or blows from above; all the joints are accordingly fashioned to resist yielding, and to sustain pressure in a vertical direction; there is no natural undulation of the body upwards and downwards, it is permitted only from side to side. So closely and compactly do the ten pairs of joints between each side of the two or three hundred vertebræ fit together, that even in a relaxed and dead state the body cannot be twisted, except in a series of side coils. Of this the reader may assure himself by an experiment on a dead and supple snake. Let him lay it straight along a level surface; seize the end of the tail, and, by a movement of rotation between the thunb and finger, endeavour to screw the snake into spiral coils; before he can produce a single turn, the whole of the long and slender body will roll over as rigidly as if it were a stick. When we call to mind the anatomical structure of the skull, the singular density and structure of the bones of the cranium strike us as a special provision against fracture and injury to the head. When we contemplate the remarkable manner in which all the bones of the skull overlap one another, we cannot but discern a special adaptation in the structure of serpents to their commonly prone position, and a provision for the dangers to which they were subject from falling bodies, and the tread of heavy beasts. But the whole organisation of the serpent is replete with many other such beautiful instances of foresight and design. What, however, more particularly concerns us in the relation of the serpent to our history is the great and significant fact revealed by paleontology, viz., that all these peculiarities and complexities of organisation, in designed subserviency to a prone posture and a gliding progress upon the belly, were given by a beneficent Creator to the serpents of that early tertiary period of our planet's history, when, in the slow and progressive preparation of the earth, the species which are now our contemporaries were just beginning to dawn; these, moreover, being species of the lowest classes of animals, called into existence long before any of the actual kinds of mammalia trod the earth, and long before the creation of man. WHITTLINGS FROM THE WEST. BY ABEL LOG. HEAP THE SEVENTY-NINTH. A DAY or two after Dr Trehearn's last visit to me, I was able to walk out, but so feeble and attenuated was I, that, like Coleridge's Ancient Mariner, I moved, and could not feel my limbs; I thought that I had died in sleep, Dr Trehearn, too, urged me not to delay my return to England, as he feared, if I remained in New York, the climate would eventually kill me. And, in fact, it is a rather fickle one. In the morning (toward the fall of the year), if you go abroad, you will sometimes require your greatcoat. After breakfast, you can dispense with your greatcoat, and would be glad to part with your other also. About mid-day, the heat grows oppressive-it ceases to be heat, it is vapour-and you are compelled to attire your self in a straw hat, and the thinnest possible linen jacket and nankeen trousers. In the afternoon, the temperature alters again, and at night you must wrap up as you did in the early part of the day. These sudden changes from heat to cold are very trying to a delicate constitution, and in some cases prove fatal. At all other seasons of the year, however, I believe the climate of New York to be an exceedingly healthy one; indeed, Americans have told me that it is one of the most delightful in the world. It was accordingly arranged that I should take my passage by the first ship that left for England. At an earlier period of my pilgrimage I should have ridiculed Dr Trehearn's dismal prophecy, and followed the bent of my roving propensities; but I had been absent nearly eighteen months, and for the present had my fill of sight-seeing and adventure. The C- a fine vessel, of about 1500 tons, being advertised to sail in a few days, therefore, and my old friend, Mr Carrol of Montreal, happening to be bound for England also, we agreed to make the voyage together. I had but few acquaintances in the city, and these were most of them of so recent a date, that my farewells were soon taken, my portmanteau (I never allowed myself to be encumbered with much luggage) packed, and the next morning was to find me once more at sea. I have been absent about a year and a half,' thought I, as I lay on my bed, beating off the mosquitoes, and during that year and a half, what a variety of droll incidents have occurred, and how many odd characters have I met with! But what is the meaning of all this?' As I spoke, the walls of the room began to recede; the ceiling was lifted high into the air; the deafening thunder of tumbling waters smote upon my ear; and I found myself at the foot of a tremendous cataract, and hemmed in on every side by lofty precipices of slippery rock, which were clothed with every favourite plant, and overhung by beautiful trees, whose green foliage was wet with the spray of the torrent, and glittering as though it had been sprinkled with diamond dust. A great rattlesnake was wriggling himself into a hole close by, and a majestic bear sat on a crag above, looking down upon me with the demurest air imaginable. It occurred to me that I had seen this wild spot before. I could not be mistaken-these were the falls of Shawinne gamme, upon the black St Maurice! As I was gazing upward, a canoe suddenly appeared upon the edge of the steep, and the next moment it had shot safely down. Two figures leaped from it, and began to dash the dew from their curls. Baptiste !' cried I; Baptiste and Jacques! are you mad? What can have induced you to brave the horrors of a shute like that? What is the height, pray?' O, something between two and three hundred feet, monsieur; but what matter? did you not expect us? were we not invited? Jacques and I left Trois Rivieres before daybreak this morning, to kill a buck for you; come, the sooner the fire is lighted the better.' 'But While I was yet talking to Baptiste, two more figures appeared on the height above, shot nimbly down the milkwhite torrent, and rolled to my feet. One of them, putting his hand suddenly upon his back, began to use some rather exceptionable language. I recognised the voice in a moment: it was Captain Tophamper, of the Golightly. Baptiste and Jacques ran to help him upon his legs, while I assisted the other. The second was no less a personage than Mr Tongs. They apologised for being late. where's Major?' cried Captain Tophamper; 'I left him lighting his pipe at the fork of the river. O, here he comes!' and down slid Mr Major at the word. He alighted gracefully upon his feet, paused a moment to resuscitate his pipe, and then, catching my eye, wiped a horny hand upon his tarry trousers, and gave me joyous greeting. He had yet hold of me, when the sound of voices were again heard above, and down came the jolly-boat, with Mr Chin and all the Golightly's crew in it. They set up a prodigious cheer as soon as they had landed, and, pulling each his forelock, made a scrape at the same time with one foot, in the most approved nautical manner. They then went to assist Baptiste and Jacques in kindling the fire. I now saw the drift of the whole thing. It was evident that I had invited all my old friends and travelling companions to a last carouse before I quitted the shores of America for those of England. I wondered at my previous stupidity, and began to perform the duties of host with proper spirit. There was an interval of a few minutes, and then Monsieur Bonbon of Quebec, with his wig tied to a button-hole, to prevent it from blowing away, was seen making the descent. Next came the Reverend Mr Tiber of Connecticut, and after him Pierre, the calash-driver, astride his vicious horse Bonaparte; he was followed by the Huron chief Tsoohahissen, in a red blanket, and the brothers Bullfrog in white ones, and by Monsieur Philippe (of the log-hut below) in no blanket at all. He had his three dogs with him, but apologised for not having brought his wife and daughter, by observing, that, as they were rather susceptible of the cold, he had objected to their shooting the fall so late in the season. All hands down on their knees and blow the fire,' cried Captain Tophamper, through his brazen speaking-trumpet, 'we shall have it out, if we don't mind.' There was so quick a succession of parties shooting the fall now, that I grew bewildered, and got quite weary of shaking hands with them; my arm ached, and I retired slily behind a tree, that I might see without being seen. In the midst of the arrivals, I saw Major Tommicod lying upon his face among the foam. Mr Dudge (of the Hotel du C▬▬▬▬▬▬), with the heavy barrel-organ depending from his neck, had fallen upon the top of him, and the major was being raised to his feet by the humane Mr Date. When I discovered my friend Colonel Banjo, however, in the press, I could no longer restrain myself, and dashing from my concealment, I welcomed the noble veteran cordially. Luke Squiff was wiping the spray from his master's military surtout with a silk pocket-handkerchief, while the colonel stood gazing upon the motley group of guests, with an expression of countenance that would have formed an admirable subject for the pencil of a Hogarth or Cruikshank. Nor was his gravity in any way restored by the arrival of mine host Ali Baba, mounted upon his black steed the Caliph, who cared nothing for a simple snafflebit, and had come all the journey at his own pace. The It was Abraham Thorn; he had no invitation; I am glad you got rid of him. Shall we see Captain Ramsay to night, think you?' 'I fear not; he dislikes company, and Two-bears, I know, is up at Round Island. Look yonder-bravely done; what a splash!? I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turning round, saw Harry Tiber, mounted on Brigand. Brigand had the bit between his teeth, and his eye glistened like a live coal. As I patted his arched neck, he gave his tail a crack by way of acknowledgment, and threw a shower of the spray it had gathered in descending the cataract over Mr Tongs and the black steward of the Golightly, who were passing with some logs for the fire. Baptiste now came forward to say that the deer was cooked, and the company might take their seats. But there were no seats for them to take; so Captain Tophamper gave the word to his crew to unship an immense piece of rock that towered near, and break it up into blocks suitable for the purpose. Mr Tiber afterwards said grace, and the smoking venison, under the superintendence of Baptiste and Jacques, was cut up and circulated among the guests. We were at first a little at a loss for wine, but it was soon discovered that Colonel Banjo had been so thoughtful as to bring about four dozen bottles of the choicest sherry in either pocket of his military surtout; so many healths, inclusive of those of the absent, were drunk, and we contrived to pass an extremely sociable even ing. It would have been objected by some, perhaps, that the meeting was a rather noisy one, but with Shawinne gamme, swollen by recent rains, thundering his deepest bass in our ears, how was it to be otherwise? It was toward midnight that Mr Dudge, who had come as proxy for his particular friend Benjamin Chaffers (that gentleman having got into trouble for assaulting two of the Montreal watchmen), arose with the view of responding to one of the toasts that had been given, but, finding himself at a loss for words, he suddenly seized the handle of the barrel-organ, which hung from his neck, and whirled it round with an energy that caused the whole of the company to spring to their feet, and clap their hands upon their ears. By no means daunted, however, Mr Dudge, instead of taking the hint to spare himself further exertion, began to play quicker and louder, until at length, wound up to a pitch of frenzy, Captain Tophamper, seizing the rock on which he sat, launched it at the head of the indefatigable musician; but Mr Dudge had already taken the alarm, and, making a dash at the perpendicular crag, began to clamber it successfully, grinding as he went, and followed by all the company, pitching rock after rock at him, till the air was absolutely darkened with the formidable missiles, and the scene resembled the furious eruption of some volcanic mountain. Still, in spite of all our activity and address, Mr Dudge, leaving the most hideous strain of barrel-music behind him, was distancing us fast, when, with one last prodigious effort, I grasped an enormous fragment of cliff, and standing on tiptoe 6 Heyday! what is all this?' cried Dr Trehearn, seizing me suddenly by the wrist; is this the way you treat your friends? You were not satisfied with hurling three pillows at my head, but now you must knock me down with a chair and table! Come, the wind is fair, and your ship will sail in half an hour. I am going to accompany you on board, so lose no time in despatching your toilet.' A few hours afterwards, the balmy gales of the blue Atlantic fanned my cheek, and the hospitable shores of America were but a dim speck upon the horizon. And here end the 'Whittlings.' TRANSUBSTANTIATION. Peter of Blois, who was born in the year 1120, was the first who, in his works, used the word transubstantiation, From him the term was adopted by the Church of Rome. HABITS OF BIRDS. He was The result of some curious investigations in relation to certain habits of birds, undertaken by M. Dureau de la Malle, of Paris, has recently been published. anxious to ascertain at what hour different birds began their morning song; he, therefore, from the 1st of May to the 6th of July, made observations, which he regularly published. It appears that for thirty years this vigilant naturalist went to bed at seven o'clock in the evening, and rose at midnight, during spring and summer, and that this habit was for scientific purposes. It seems that the concert is opened about one o'clock by the chaffinch, and that the sparrow is the laziest bird, not leaving his rest until five o'clock. In the intermediate hours, at marked intervals, which M. de la Malle has carefully noted down, other birds commence their natural melody. He has shown, on more than one occasion, that the different birds have mistaken artificial light for the dawning of day, and that a solar lamp has awakened the little choristers. THE SOAP PLANT. The soap-plant, so called, grows all over California, cn high hills as well as in the valleys. The leaves make their appearance about the middle of November, or about six weeks after the rainy season has fairly set in; the plants never grow more than one foot high, and the leaves and stalk drop entirely off in May, though the bulbs remain in the ground all summer without decaying. It is used to wash with in all parts of the country, and by those who know its virtues it is preferred to the best of soap. The method of using it is merely to strip off the husk, dip the clothes in water, and rub the bulb on them; it makes a thick lather, and smells not unlike new brown soap. The botanical name of the plant is Phalangium pomaridianum. Besides this plant, the bark of a tree, Chelaria saponaria, is also used in South America for the purposes of washing. Several other plants have been used in various countries as a substitute for soap. All of these contain considerable quantities of oleaginous and alkaline principles in their composition, on which their value depends. THE RIVAL MADONNAS. At the corner of every street, you stumble over a chair set out with a white cloth, a little picture of the Madonna, and a place for collections to beautify her chapel. You are assailed on all sides with little begging boxes for the Madonna's beautification; and even the interests of the holy souls in purgatory are forgotten, in the pious zeal to make her fine enough. To see the luck of some Madonnas! Thus, one Madonna, who opened her mouth to an old washer-woman, has come to great honours and credit; while another, who opened her eyes to hundreds, has fallen into great disgrace. One Madonna is born, I suppose, according to the proverb, with a silver spoon in her mouth, and another with a pewter one. But this is by no means the whole of our miracles; for, as if one Madonna scorned to be outdone by another, there is an old dirty cobwebby Virgin in the Pantheon, which has lately begun to work miracles, and has drawn such crowds to her shrine, that an unhappy stranger can scarcely get in to see the building itself. It is probably by no means the only miracle which its walls have witnessed. Italy seems always to have been the land of superstition; and the Pagan miracles that are upon record at least equal the Roman Catholic both in number and absurdity. Every page of Livy and Plutarch abounds with them. Not a year ever passed without two or three oxen speaking, though we never hear any of their sayings. Now, even a Madonna but rarely makes use of her tongue, and oxen have entirely given up talking. However, it is a different thing bearing nonsense that was credited ages ago, and seeing it before one's eyes; and when I behold crowds flocking to kneel before these talking and winking Madonnas, I cannot help asking myself. if this is really the nineteenth century?— Rome in the Nineteenth Century MIND-SEEING. THE old fable of the travellers and the chameleon, with which Jay's paraphrase has made most of us familiar from school-days, was a strong and early comment on the fact which every observer must have noted, how differently people see. We use the word in the sense implied when one says, 'I cannot see the truth of that argument.' Probably perceive would be more strictly proper, but see is of ancient and popular use in our English speech and literature, and a similar idiom exists in the language of every civilised people. Concerning the different seeings of mankind in matters purely mental-doctrines and dogmas of all sorts, whether belonging to metaphysics or theologythe world has heard more than was ever turned to profit, and it is not our present intention to increase the stock; but it is curious, and, as the Easterns say, 'admonishing,' to mark, that, in the kingdoms of art and of nature, in all the provinces of taste and trade, few see the same things in similar proportions. dered the jem of the collection--an ancient stone pot-the lady made no effort to cover her contempt, and, with more candour than compliment, wondered what the society could expect people to see in an old pot. In vain she was reminded of the difficulty of the manufacture, the vessel being, it seems, a masterpiece of its kind, of the light which that ancient pot cast on the domestic comforts of those unstoried times. Miss was decided that it was only a mere kitchen utensil, and quite beneath the dignity of the society. On all the bye or beaten ways of life, in our social ga therings together, in our trips by steamer and train, what varieties of seeing may be discovered? Some regard only prominent objects-the large features of a landscape, or the lion of a party, eclipsing to their view all minor details and less important persons. Moreover, mere prominence is generally sufficient. The great church and the tall chimney equally win their wonder. With them notoriety and fame are synonymous, and there is no distinction between bustle and importance. He belonged to this order of sight-seekers who informed his country friends that he Something in the powers of perception that work within had seen everything grand or worth looking at in London the veil, something in previous training, in the lights of - Westminster Abbey and the great Smithfield Market, fancy, in the shadows of memory, or in the yet unexplored besides the first poet and lawyer of the day.' There is, on mine of material affinities, if comprehensible by our know- the contrary, a class of minute observers, who may be ledge, might account for this strange difference which is termed great seers in a small way. No peculiarity of look often most evident where opportunities of observation are or dress can escape them. They know the colour of everyto all appearance equal, and the external avenues are alike body's gloves, can tell the exact value of all rings and open and clear. Age, pursuits, and position of life, seem brooches, and an appraiser might consult them with adto have something to do with it. The father of a large vantage concerning the furniture of any room in which family, and the youth who carries a daguerreotype minia- they had spent an hour. Dull minds have generally this ture in the left pocket of his waistcoat, a poet in search of gift in perfection. We have known some who were dull a scene for a romantic ballad, and an enterprising capitalist enough without it indeed. But let whosoever would learn thinking of ground whereon to build a factory, are apt to the extreme particulars of any assembly, public or private, have some sights rather inexplicable to each other; but how arrangements were conducted, and how the ladies this is not all. Poets, and capitalists, fathers of grown-up each and all were dressed, inquire at the most stupid of daughters, and youths equipped with miniatures, differ in the company, and rest assured that it must have been an their seeings even among themselves. Gentle reader, did unobtrusive ribbon and a swift motion the sight of which you ever accompany a couple of young or old friends on a he lost. Nevertheless, as no gold is coined without alloy, country excursion, on a hunt of city lions, or to a public neither is the ability of such minute observation usually assembly, and pay attention to their remarks? Tell us bestowed without a drawback. Small seers can rarely truly, was not the wonder of the one the mere wayside take cognisance of great things. Their range is always weed of the other, if not entirely overlooked? Did not the narrow, and in many cases so unaccountably confined to one rejoice in what the other utterly contemned? In the trifles, that, from a tour of Europe, they might learn a new very same landscape, stage, or company, did not A see method of tying shoestrings, or understand some improvesomething which completely escaped B? And had not B, ment in paper knives, but nothing of greater moment. when next you met, voted A stupid for not observing what There was a worthy woman of our acquaintance, whose struck him so forcibly? There are worthy people who residence was a quiet country town, and whose journeys would select a picture gallery as the fairest field for study- had been limited by the midland county wherein it stood, ing the different seeings of their acquaintances; but that till the summer of 1851, which doubtless will, or ought to should be classed among delusive phenomena. If the sub- be, noted among seasons as the travelling summer, when jects be more than ordinarily unsophisticated-the dwellers she became one of the thousands whom the excursion in some primitive village come to town for the first time in trains and steamers carried first to London, and then to their lives a Cambridge man, who has spent his time in Paris. On her return, friends and neighbours who had exertions to square the circle, or an Oxford fellow, much staid at home (and there were some such) wanted news of concerned about the practice of the sixth century-there all the wonders she had seen. The common inquiry reis a chance of hearing some original remarks; but every-garded London doings (our readers will remember it was body else knows by this time what ought to be admired, Exhibition time), more adventurous minds referred to the and how it should be done. Sales, and Conversationes, trips Louvre and the Palais Royale. The travelled dame adto Rome, and newspaper criticism, have made the public mitted that they were all grand, and she had seen them, familiar with the use of certain technicalities. Who can- that was a comfort;' but a certain description of crimped not now talk of 'tone,' breadth,' and 'finishing' with collar (we hope our fair readers will comprehend somewonderful readiness, at least, if not propriety? A museum thing of its mystery) had taken possession of her memory, is somewhat surer ground whereon to note the difference and she would discourse of nothing else. in seers. No 'good set form' will suit its variety of objects, and people can scarcely help speaking their real impressions. A learned member of the Archæological Society, now gone the way of all antiquity, was wont to amuse himself and friends with an anecdote of a clever, or rather blueish young lady, whom he had the pleasure of conducting for the first time through the society's museum. She admired the specimens of ancient armour, became lost at the sight of a jester's cap, and went into raptures over the inscribed collar of a feudal slave. But when at length, among some gathered relics of that ancient race who in Britain, as well as over all the earth, have left no record of themselves but the weapon or utensil moulded from primeval flint, her conductor pointed out what he consi A large, but by no means harmless, division of the same class are the fault-seers, worthies so largely endowed with the detective talents, that no small inconvenience or petty impropriety can escape their piercing ken. They know when the young widow begins to get over her mourning, and when the engaged young man is not paying Miss Mary sufficient attention; none can more quickly discover a flaw in fortune, a falling off in friendship, or see cause why their neighbours ought to be offended with each other; and they never hide their light under a bushel. One of the fraternity will always be found to make Jones sensible of how coldly Smith has treated him since his misfortune, or give old Mrs Green to understand how far her daughterin-law dissents from the domestic policy in which she believes; while another instructs Robinson in all the deficiencies of his new house, assures Brown that he paid too much for that little place of his, and convinces Clarke that his last speculation was not so profitable after all. What peace there would be in many a neighbourhood, were no attention paid to their revealings, most people may guess, for it is our enlightened conviction that they live and poke everywhere. Various, indeed, as individual minds and mediums are the seeings of mortality. Some dear souls are so near-sighted, as to be to all intents and purposes unconscious of any existence in the universe but their own. Others look so far, that though public grievances appear in the strongest light, enabling them to draw complete maps of reformation, those in the home circle remain wholly invisible. It is no less worthy of remark, what opposing peculiarities of the same person or character will catch the sight of different minds. Boswell saw in Johnson a colossus of wit and learning, Lord Chesterfield 'an awkward person, rather deformed, and extremely unpolished.' The most ordinary acquaintances of one's daily walks also take their views from opposite sides of men and things; hence arise differences of opinion and of estimates. Each soul sees, as it were, but its own part of all that surrounds its journey; thus, of two that disagree most widely, both may be in the right according to the sight given them, and the largest seers will always be most ready to allow for opposite views. There are deficiencies of mental vision still more difficult to explain-for instance, that most people should look through a perpetually magnifying glass on their own merits and misfortunes, while a diminishing medium is generally employed in contemplating those of others, and that as regards matters of conscience or conduct, the greater part should see so clearly in their neighbours' cases and so indistinctly in their own. It is also to be lamented, that we should see so much and yet so little of each other. Much of the outward man, and little of the all within. Were it otherwise, doubtless many a connection would never be formed, and many a false step never be taken-some would have no room to doubt nor friendship to fear. But the shadows of time thicken about us, the lights come late, another glass of truth said to be broken so long ago is lent to mankind only in fragments; were it not well, then, to employ at times the mirror of charity, which some maintain to be still entire, either because of its imperishable nature, or the limited service it has seen in our journey to the country of better promises and clearer mind-seeing. A DIAMOND NECKLACE. In these days, when the gigantic hungry monster Quantity threatens to swallow and annihilate the golden seed grains of Quality; when words, words, words, in thousand-fold vociferation, are proclaiming themselves things; when goblets are daily being presented for your acceptance, labelled "Purest Castalian,' which you have to translate into Purest Trash;' when you hear of inspiration, poetic rapture, and genius, and find they mean inflated sentimentalism, rhapsody, and vacuity, struggling to cover its nakedness in bombast;-it is surely something of a relief, to turn to the pages of a poet, who scorns not the calm, toilful effort of thought, who deigns to respect the delicacy of true elegance and taste, and who deems his readers deserving of what studied elaboration and careful polish his utmost effort can impart to his verses. Such a poet is Alfred Tennyson. And in no case, probably, does the calm elaboration, to which Tennyson submits the outpourings of his true and original genius, produce a finer effect than in those sweet little snatches of melody, with which his readers must be so well acquainted. They are to be found scattered over all his works; surpassingly beautiful little gems, like diamonds in gold fields, which the thankful perceiver takes up and sets joyfully in his bosom. It is our purpose, in the present paper, to do a thing which our readers, unless their hearts are snowballs, will thank us for, namely, to string together a selection of the choicest of these exquisite gems, and present them, in concentrated And she is grown so dear, so dear, That trembles at her ear; For, hid in ringlets day and night. And I should know if it beat right, With her laughter or her sighs, I scarce should be unclasp'd at night.' The idea of this is as old as Anacreon; so is the song of the lark: it is a pretty, melodious little snatch, and suits admirably in its place; we shall not question its originality. A Dream of Fair Women' is one of Tennyson's most elaborate poems; we are not sure that there is in the language any poetic picturing more perfect of its kind: the scenes seem as if painted with liquid gold and silver. Among other fair women introduced in the piece is Jephthah's daughter; and the beauty of the whole portraiture seems to us inexhaustible. We cannot give the whole picture, but present our readers with the first appearance, in the dream, of the daughter of the warrior Gileadite, and the stanzas which she advances singing; it seems as if she were in a trance, and dreamy tones of celestial music flowing from her lips. The poet had just before seen Cleopatra, and his whole sense had been overwhelmed by her gleaming loveli ness: 'Slowly my sense undazzled. Then I heard A noise of some one coming through the lawn, 'The torrent brooks of hallow'd Israel From craggy hollows pouring, late and soon, The balmy moon of blessed Israel Floods all the deep-blue gloom with beams divine; Those two last lines mark the hand of a master; Homer never was more truly graphic. Our next is a really great effort of Tennyson's; its colours are brilliant, its melody is thrilling, and every stroke is laid on as with a pencil of light. THE POET'S SONG. He pass'd by the town, and out of the street; And chanted a melody loud and sweet, The wild hawk stood with the down on his beak, And the nightingale thought, 'I have sung many songs, For he sings of what the world will be |