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6 We love thy rude and rocky shore,
And here we stand-
And storm our land-
Helps to Read.-Byrom. 1 A CERTAIN artist, I've forgot his name,
Had got for making spectacles a fame,
Contrive to please you, if you want a pair.
To place a youngish pair upon his nose ;
Now, sir ?-Why now -I'm not a bit the better3 No! here, take these that magnify still more ;
How do they fit ?—Like all the rest before.
What sort of eyes can you have got ? said he.
Pray, let me ask you—Can you read at all?
Of paying you for any “Helps to Read ?”
Dr. Fowler, bishop of Gloucester, in the early part of the eighteenth century, was a believer in apparitions. The following conversation of the bishop with Judge Powell is recorded :
“Since I saw you,” said the lawyer, “ I have had ocular demonstration of the existence of nocturnal apparitions."
“I am glad you are become a convert to truth ; but do you say actual ocular demonstration ? Let me know the particulars of the story."
My lord, I will. It was, let me see, last Thursday night, between the hours of eleven and twelve, but nearer the latter than the former, as I lay sleeping in my bed, I was suddenly awakened by an uncommon noise, and heard something coming up stairs, and stalking directly towards my room : the door flying open, I drew back my curtain, and saw a faint glimmering light enter my chamber.”
“ Of a blue color, no doubt.”
“ The light was of a pale blue, my lord, and followed by a tall meagre personage, his locks hoary with age, and clothed in a long loose gown, a leathern girdle was about his loins, his beard thick and grizzly, a large fur cap on his head, and a long staff in his hand. Struck with astonishment, I remained for some time motionless and silent; the figure advanced, staring me full in the face : I then said, Whence, and what art thou ?"
“What was the answer-tell me what was the answer ?"
“ The following was the answer I received :— I am watchman of the night, an't please your honor, and made bold to come up stairs to inform the family of their street door being open, and that if it were not soon shut, they would probably be robbed before morning."
LESSON XC. Diedrich Knickerbocker's New-England Farmer.-IRVING.
The first thought of a Yankee farmer, on coming to the years of manhood, is to settle himself in the world—which means nothing more than to begin his rambles. To this end, he takes to himself for a wife some buxom country heiress, passing rich in red ribands, glass beads, and mock tortoise-shell combs, with a white gown and morocco shoes for Sunday, and deeply skilled in the mystery of making apple-sweetmeats, long sauce, and pumpkin pie. Having thus provided himself, like a pedler, with a heavy knap
sack, wherewith to regale his shoulders through the journey 2 of life, he literally sets out on his peregrinations.
His whole family, household furniture, and farming utensils, are hoisted into a covered cart; his own and wife's wardrobe packed up in a firkin—which done, he shoulders his axe, takes staff in his hand, whistles “ Yankee doodle,” and trudges off to the woods, as confident of the protection of Providence, and relying as cheerfully on his own resources, as ever did a patriarch of yore, when he journeyed into a strange country of the Gentiles. Having buried
himself in the wilderness, he builds himself a log-hut, clears 3 away a corn-field and potato-patch, and, Providence smi
ling upon his labors, he is soon surrounded by a snug farm, and some half a score of flaxen-headed urchins, who, by their size, seem to have sprung all at once out of the earth, like a crop of toadstools.
But it is not the nature of this most indefatigable of speculators to rest contented with any state of sublunary enjoyment: improvement is his darling passion; and, having thus improved his lands, the next step is to provide a man
sion worthy the residence of a landholder. A huge palace 4 of pine-boards immediately springs up in the midst of the
wilderness, large enough for a parish church, and furnished with windows of all dimensions; but so rickety and flimsy withal, that every blast gives it a fit of the ague. By the time the outside of this mighty air-castle is completed, either the funds, or the zeal of our adventurer are exhausted, so that he barely manages to half finish one room within, where the whole family burrow together, while the rest of the house is devoted to the curing of pumpkins, or sto5 ring of carrots and potatoes, and is decorated with fanciful festoons of dried apples and peaches.
The outside remaining unpainted, grows venerably black with time : the family wardrobe is laid under contribution for old hats, petticoats, and breeches to stuff into the broken windows; while the four winds of heaven keep up a whistling and howling about the aerial palace, and play as many. unruly gambols as they did of yore in the cave of Æolus. The humble log-hut, which whilom nestled this improving
family snugly within its narrow but comfortable walls, 6 stands hard by,-ignominious contrast!-degraded into acow
house or pig-sty; and the whole scene reminds one forcibly of a fable, which I am surprised has never been recorded, of an aspiring snail, who abandoned his humble habitation, which he had long filled with great respectability, to crawl into the empty shell of a lobster, where he could no doubt have resided with great style and splendor, the envy and hate of all the pains-taking snails in his neighborhood, had“ he not accidentally perished with cold, in one corner of his
stupendous mansion. 7 Being thus completely settled, and, to nise his own words,
to rights, one would imagine that he would begin to enjoy the comforts of his situation ; to read newspapers ; to talk politics, neglect his own business, and attend to the affairs of the nation, like a useful or patriotic citizen ; but, now it is that his wayward disposition again begins to operate. He soon grows tired of a spot where there is no longer any room for improvement; sells his farm-his aircastle, petticoat-windows and all, reloads his cart, shoulders his axe, puts himself at the head of his family, and wanders away in search of new lands, again to fell trees, again to clear corn-fields, again to build a shingle-palace, and again to sell off and wander.
The White-headed Eagle.—AUDUBON. 1 To give you some idea of the nature of this bird, permit
me to place you on the Mississippi, on which you may float gently along, while approaching winter brings millions
of waici-fw. on whistling wings, from the countries of the north, to seek a milder climate in which to sojourn for
The eagle is seen perched, in an erect attitude, on the highest summit of the tallest tree by the margin of the broad stream. His glistening but stern eye looks over the vast expanse.
He listens attentively to every sound that comes to his quick ear from afar, glancing now and *% then on the earth beneath, lest even the light tread of the
fawn may pass unheard. His mate is perched on the opposite side, and should all be tranquil and silent, warns him by a cry to continue patient. At this well-known call the male party opens his broad wings, inclines his body a little downwards, and answers to her voice in tones not unlike the laugh of a maniac. The next moment, he resumes his erect attitude, and again all around is silent. Ducks of many species, the teal, the wigeon, the mallard,
and others, are seen passing with great rapidity, and fol3 lowing the course of the current; but the eagle heeds them
not; they are at that time beneath his attention. The next moment, however, the wild trumpet-like sound of a yet distant but approaching swan is heard. A shriek from the female eagle comes across the stream,—for she is as fully on the alert as her mate. The latter suddenly shakes the whole of his body, and with a few touches of his bill, aided by the action of his cuticular muscles, arranges his plumage in an instant. The snow-white bird is now in
sight; her long neck is stretched forward, her eye is on 4 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 very legs are spread beneath her tail, to aid her in her flight. She approaches, however. The eagle has marked her for his prey. As the swan is passing the dreaded pair, the male bird, in full preparation for the chase, starts from his perch with an awful scream, that to the swan's ear brings more terror than the report of the large
duck-gun. 5 Now is the moment to witness the display of 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 man @uvres, to elude the grasp of his cruel talons. It mounts