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face of his wife had disappeared; and then he went
apart, and throwing himself on the ground, spent
the night in despair, which no consolation came to
visit.
Shortly afterwards, the church was finished, and
all the country round came to shower praises on the
architect. But some say envy, and some say in-
jured affection, was on the watch. The most proba-
ble story is that the father of Uca, a master-work-
man, silently excited his comrades against Manoli.
One day he had ascended to the highest tower to
see that all was right, they drew away the ladder,
and called out to him tauntingly to come down if he
could. The unhappy man shrieked aloud, endeav-
oring to justify himself. He had obeyed the orders
of Heaven, given through the anchorite of the cell.
They replied that the anchorite had died the day
before his last visit, and that he had been deluded
by a fiend in human shape. His despair then be-
came overwhelming. But love of life is strong.
He was a great mechanician, and endeavored, they
say, to fabricate a pair of wings, by which he might
fly down from that immense height. He dared not
implore the succor of Heaven, and he leaped with
mad courage. Down he came. The wings, shat-
tered by the first shock, beat uselessly round him
during that terrible dive. He was seen to descend
like an arrow; and they say that the earth opened
like water to receive him, and closed again over
his head. The legend asserts that ever since, at the
hour of midnight, a plaintive woman's voice is
always heard murmuring through the church, im-
ploring Manoli to release her and her child.

The present inhabitant of the ruined Argis has never heard these words; for he has never been present at the hour when they are uttered. But he knows that he can do so when he will. Meanwhile, he never wakes at midnight without offering up a prayer for the soul of poor Uca, and even for that of the unfortunate Manoli.-Household Words.

SUPERSTITIONS CONNECTED WITH STORMS.
Swift ran the searching tempest overhead;
And ever and anon some bright white shaft
Burnt through the pine-tree roof-here burnt and
there,

screen

As if God's messenger through the close wood-
Plunged and replunged his weapon at a venture:
Then broke the thunder.-BROWNING.

It was a tremendous storm. Now, when I advance this as my deliberate opinion, I wish it to be distinctly understood that I know what storins are. I have been exposed to more than one storm at sea; I have lost my way in a snow-storm among the Alps of Dauphiné; and I have crossed the Jura between Lyons and Geneva to an accompaniment of thunder and lightning which few tourists would care to encounter. Still, I say, that it was a tremendous storm, perhaps the most sudden and severe I have ever witnessed.

It happened while I was staying in Burgundy, not many weeks past. My kind host, M. de Longueville, had gone to Dijon upon business, and was not expected home till the morrow. Madame and the servants had been in bed since eight o'clock, and I was left with the library to myself, the only waking member of the household. It was a delicious evening the trees in the garden and the granitic mountain beyond were steeped in that magical gloom, so deep and yet so clear, that follows the sunset of the south; the cigales were silent, after having kept up their noisy chorus throughout all the hot day; one large and lonely star glowed out of the dark sky; and every now and then the lowing of some distant cattle, or the chanted ballad of a vine-dresser going homewards after his daily labor, came softly along the scented air, and chimed in with the gentle stillness of the hour.

It was so hot, that I sat with doors and windows opened wide; and so calm, that not a breath stirred the delicate tongue of flame within the globe of the spirit lamp at my side. Thus the hours glided. I was reading Browning's passionate and powerful dramas for the first time, and midnight drew near before I was aware of it. Suddenly, and without the slightest warning, like the swift tornado of the tropics, a gush of wind poured through the windows, blowing the curtains inwards, and fiercely fluttering the leaves of the volume in my hand. Another moment, and a blaze of livid light burst over the landscape-seemed to fill the room-lit up for one brief moment every tree and shrub, and stripped the darkness from the rugged hillside-was overtaken by a deafening explosion of thunder just above the house, and succeeded by a strange calm without a sound or an echo. Thoroughly startled | from my self-possession, I threw my book aside, and

ran to the window. The sky, low, black, and star-plosions like the opening of a battery, came the dis-
less, hung like a pall overhead, and seemed as if it charges of thunder.
Now and then, during the
rested on the tree-tops around; the wind, for an in- brief and momentary lulls, we could hear the snort-
stant so violent, had utterly subsided; the atmos- ing of the horses in the stables, the pitiful whining
phere was hot and stagnant; a silence, as it were of of a frightened hound, the fall of some tree torn up-
death, had fallen upon everything-not a leaf stirred, wards by the hurricane, the rushing of the water-
not a bat flitted by, not a sound or sign of life was courses along the steep and stony road.
heard. Almost involuntarily, I took up the lamp,
and, previously removing the globe, stepped out
with it upon the terrace. As I had anticipated!
Steadily and brightly burned the pale flame, casting
a radiant circle ou the gravel round about my feet,
and not betraying by the lightest waver the pre-
sence of that gale which but just now had well-nigh
torn the volume from my grasp.
There was something dread-almost supernatural
in this menacing pause. I seemed to be standing
alone and defenceless beneath a gigantic black dome.
I breathed with difficulty, expecting the storm to
burst round me as before; and yet I could not resist
the fascination that chained me to the spot.

The lull continued unbroken. I could hear the
very ticking of the watch by my side. I took it
out, and found that it wanted four minutes to twelve.
Then, measured, distinct, and solemn, vibrating
keenly through the silence, came the slow pealing of
a bell. I scarcely believed my ears, yet it was no
error of the senses. I recognized the very timbre of
the chapel-bell down in the village; I could almost
hear it swing from side to side in the old Roman-
esque belfry. A mass at midnight! Curiosity out-
weighed fear: I must witness this service. The dis-
tance was not half a mile; I might reach the church
before the tempest recommenced. I made my way
hastily back through the library to my own cham-
ber, wrapped myself in a large hooded travelling-
cloak, stole softly down the staircase, and had my
hand on the bolts of the great door, when a light
touch and a friendly voice arrested me.

66

My dear lady, you must be mad to think of venturing out on such a night as this! We shall have the tempest break over us in less than two minutes; and it is past midnight!"

"How! returned already, Monsieur de Longueville?"

"Yes, returned twelve hours sooner than I had hoped, and fortunately in time to prevent you from doing a very foolish thing. What can have induced you to attempt such an excursion?"

"Simply this; I heard the chapel-bell tolling, and I wished to ascertain the cause. It would not have taken five minutes by the short paths, and I should like to have seen a midnight mass for once-especially in a storm."

I believe my countenance betrayed some little vexation, for M. de Longueville threw open the door of the salle à manger, and, offering me his arm, said with an apologetic smile: "I assure you, then, that your journey would have been but ill repaid, and that you will find a comfortable supper and a glass of my old Romanée much more deserving your attention. And, by the way, here comes the tempest."

As he spoke, a tremendous sheet of lightning seemed to open the whole sky into one broad field of fire; the rapid thunder shook the house to its foundations; a torrent of rain descended from the heavy clouds, and the storm began in earnest.

Madame and the servants were all up by this time, anxious to welcome the return of the master of the house. Some of the faces looked rather pale. Madame could eat no supper; monsieur alone was gay and unembarrassed as ever.

"Comment!" said he, looking merrily round, "has the thunder frightened every one to silence? Here, Pierre, take this bottle of wine, and divide the contents among you there; it will give you courage, mes enfans. What! Jeannette upon her knees in the corner! Remember me to thy patron saint, Jeannette. Mademoiselle, as my guest, I engage you to eat some supper. Madame de Longueville, as my wife, I insist that you partake of the creature-comforts before us. Holy Saint Christophe, what a flash was that!"

Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder, Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never Remember to have heard. "And mademoiselle is too much alarmed now, to inquire why our chapel-bells are ringing to-night," said M. de Longueville, with a sly smile. Shall I have the pleasure of escorting mademoiselle down to church, or does she prefer remaining in ignoble safety at the chateau?"

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"Decidedly remaining where she is," I replied, laughing. "But pray, do tell me all about the bells, monsieur; it will serve to distract my attention, for I really cannot sup while this scene continues." Eh bien, mademoiselle; you will, then, be surprised, perhaps, when I tell you that these bells are chiefly rung for my benefit.'

66

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"For your benefit, Monsieur de Longueville?" Precisely; or, I should say more correctly, for the benefit of my vines. It has been, from time immemorial, the custom of my family to engage the services of our village-priest upon the occasion of any violent hail or thunder-storm. He intercedes with Saint Christophe (our patron saint), for the preservation of the vines. The poor curé! his stipend is little enough, and every hundred francs is of importance in his modest household. You smile, mademoiselle."

"Not at the piety or poverty of your poor curé, monsieur. I was thinking of an amusing instance of superstition that happened while I was at Malta, in 1852. The resident bishop actually commanded that all the church-bells on the island should be rung, for the purpose of calming a violent gale."

"I am not surprised at it, mademoiselle," said my host, as he filled his glass with the old Romanée, and leaned back in his chair with an air of easy contentment. "The superstitions connected with storms have often engaged my attention. They are many and curious; and it will give me much pleasure to read aloud some few extracts entered from time to time in the pages of my common place book, and relating to this subject, if you think the storm is still too violent to admit of your retiring to rest."

So saying, monsieur took down a heavy volume from the shelves behind his chair, and read the following observations-only pausing now and then, when an unusually vivid flash or startling peal broke the thread of his discourse.

"There can be little question, that many of the brilliant scientific, æsthetic, and mechanical inventions, which are deservedly considered as the glory of later civilization, were by no means so unknown to the philosophers of antiquity, as our modern vanity sometimes leads us to imagine. Be this as it may, we have, at least, no unreasonable grounds for believing that some of the properties of that mighty agent, the electric fluid, were familiar, in bygone ages, to those remote and forgotten students whose costly dyes and spiced sepulchral secrets are lost to us for ever. It is stated by Pliny, that the Etruscans had power to call down the lightning from heaven, and direct it according to their pleasure. Numa may have possessed the same secret; and Tullus Hostilius, who is said to have been killed by lightning, while performing magical ceremonies in his house, fell a victim, in all probability, to his own imprudence or want of skill in conducting the dangerous fluid-thus anticipating, by nearly 1,400 years, those daring experiments which, in 1737, crowned the labors of the Abbé Chappe, by bringing the fire from heaven into his chamber at Tobolsk, and in 1753 fatally terminated the career of Professor Richmann, in his own dwelling, at St. Petersburg.

Valuable as such a record would have been, it is to be lamented that the literature of Greece should touch so casually upon this subject, and upon the precautions employed by the ancients against lightIt was an elemental strife indeed. In the furthest ning and tempest. Herodotus, in the ninety-fourth corner of the salon shrank the little trembling group chapter of his Fourth Book, states that the Thracians of servants; madame hid her face in the sofa-cush- menaced the thunder-cloud with arrows, and comions; I strove to assist at the supper-table; but, 1 bated the dread artillery of heaven. We also know fear, with no signal success. Without, the scene that the Greeks, as well as the Romans, regarded the was fearful; the lightning-flashes succeeded each subtile fluid as the sacred minister of the gods; but other at intervals of about twenty or thirty seconds; here our information terminates. With regard to sometimes running in long quivering lines round and the Romans, we are more fortunate, and both Pliny round the horizon; sometimes bursting forth in all and Suetonius have much to tell us. Persons killed directions, as if from a fiery ball high in the hea- by lightning were supposed to have called down vens; sometimes springing upwards from the earth, upon themselves the special indignation of heaven, and bounding along the valley and up the mountain- and were buried in unfrequented places, lest the sides with a terrible living energy, such as I have ashes of others should be polluted by their presence. never even heard described before. Simultaneously | Indeed, we learn that in some instances they were with every flash, crackling in sharp and sudden ex-suffered to lie where they fell, without receiving any

interment whatever, so great and so profound was the horror in which they were held. Even a spot of ground struck by lightning was hedged in and avoided, under the belief that Jupiter had either set upon it the mark of his displeasure, or appropriated it as sacred to himself. Such enclosures were called bidental, and it was unlawful for any man to approach them. Caverns were supposed by the Romans to be secure places of refuge during thunder-storms, and they believed that lightning never penetrated lower than two yards into the earth. Acting upon this supposition, the Emperor Augustus used to withdraw into some deep vault of his palace, whenever a tempest was feared; and it is recorded by Suetonius, that he always wore the skin of a seal round his body, as a protection against lightning. That both precautions were equally unavailing, needs scarcely to be mentioned. Lightning has been known to strike ten feet deep into the earth; but not even the marvellous accuracy of modern science can determine at what distance from the surface a safe retreat may be found from the descending fluid; and even were this ascertained, the danger from ascending electrical eurrents remains the same. With regard to sealskins, we find that the Romans attached so much faith to them, as non-conductors, that tents were made of them, beneath which the timid used to take refuge. It is a somewhat curious fact, that in the neighborhood of the Mount Cevennes, in Languedoc, where anciently some Roman colonies are known to have existed, the shepherds cherish a similar superstition respecting the skins of serpents. These they carefully collect, and, having covered their hats withal, believe themselves secure against the dangers of the storm. M. Laboissière is disposed to see a link of interesting analogy between the legend which yet lingers in the mind of the peasant of Cevennes, and the more costly superstition held in reverence by his Latin ancestors.

The emperors of Japan retire into a deep grotto during the tempests which rage with such severity in their latitude; but, not satisfied with the profundity of the excavation, or the strength of the stones with which it is built, they complete their precautions by having a reservoir of water sunk in the centre of their retreat. The water is intended to extinguish the lightning-a measure equally futile, since many instances have been preserved, in which the fluid has fallen upon water with the same destructive effect as upon land. Thus we learn from Weichard Valvasor (Philosophical Transactions, vol. xvi.), that in the year 1760 the Lake of Zirknitz was struck by lightning, and that so large a quantity of fish rose instantly to the surface, as supplied the inhabitants of the neighborhood with eight tuns full. And on the 14th of September, 1772, the lightning descended into the Doubs, near Besançon, leaving shoals of stunned and dead fish floating with the current.

Certain stuffs-as silk and wool-and certain trees -as the mulberry and peach-were supposed to repel lightning. These opinions are not, perhaps, wholly without foundation; since numerous cases might be cited in which persons appear to have been struck, and others to have escaped, according as they wore clothing of this or that material. Scarcely a year has elapsed since the catastrophe of Châteauneuf-les-Moutiers, when the lightning entered the church, played round the altar, struck down two out of the three officiating priests, and spared the third, apparently because his garments alone were made of silk.

The Tartars have an extreme terror of the phenomena of storms. As soon as the first warning thunder is heard, they expel all strangers from their dwellings, wrap themselves in long black woollen cloaks, and sit, silent and immovable, till all danger is past. The Chinese pin their faith upon the preserving qualities of the mulberry and peach; and Suetonius informs us, that the Emperor Tiberius never failed to wear a chaplet of laurel, under the belief that lightning would not strike this kind of leaf.

It has been very generally supposed, that a feather-bed or mattress offers a secure retreat during storms of thunder and lightning; but it has of late years been proved that these simple means are deserving of little reliance. Birds, despite their feathers, are frequently killed by the destructive meteor; and on the 5th of September, 1838, at the barracks of Saint Maurice, in the city of Lille, a flash of lightning, entering one of the dormitories, rent two mattresses completely in fragments, without injuring the two soldiers who were sleeping upon them at the time.

Such are a few of the superstitions, and founded now and then upon the doubtful deductions drawn from accident and observation, which, originating with the nations of antiquity, have descended in many instances to the present day. Thanks to sci

ence, and to the many inexpensive channels through which its beneficent and beautiful results are conveyed in a popular form, to the poorest as well as to the wealthiest, these childish, and sometimes dangerous errors, are fast disappearing from the minds of even the least educated amongst us. By means of a slight metallic-rod, carried up a chimney or a tower, the electricity of the charged thunder-cloud may be turned aside as easily as a blow from the hand of a wilful child; and this very fluid, of which the world has stood in dread since all time-this electric current, which has been regarded, even in our own day, as the special expression of divine anger, and that by persons with some pretensions to education-this swift and terrible agent of the storm becomes in the grasp of the natural philosopher the very slave of man-the silversmith to whom he intrusts the decoration of his most graceful ornaments, by the process of voltaic electricity-the messenger by whom he transmits his thoughts from land to land, in the electric telegraph--the indicator of his every hour and minute, when adapted to the measurement of time in the electric clock. Thus far has it been subdued, and it is impossible for any amongst us to conjecture how much farther our triumphs may yet be carried. Sufficient, as regards the subject of the present inquiry, that we can secure life and property without the aid of the grotto, the seal-skin, or the laurel-wreath, and, with a few yards of wire and an iron rod, direct the lightning as we please, and, like Ajax, defy the storm."

into a permanent and solid roof, capable of resisting violent gusts of wind, of supporting snow-drifts, and of defying torrents of rain,-not during a single night, a single week, or a single month, but throughout a winter. We succeeded wonderfully. I cite my tent as a model. Two Russian gun-barrels, transversely placed from one stick to the other, consolidate the edifice, and hold up the roof firmly. A wall of clay without prevents the wind from getting under the canvas. Along the outer edge of this wall is a gutter, paved with tiles, which carries the water readily from the roof. We found these tiles and old bricks in the ruins of farms upon the plateau. So much for the exterior. Within, the ground is excavated to the depth of a third of a metre, with an earthen shelf all round, where our household utensils are arranged, as knapsacks, the gamelles, brushes, oil, provisions, the day's rations,-everything belonging to the campaigner. Here, also, we sit, when we are tired of lying down. Our fire is lit in a hollow of this shelf, paved with brick, surmounted with a stone, our chimney-piece. The smoke escapes by a zig-zag hole cut through the wall, and passes through a chimney-pot, or iron pipe, which Fritcher got one fine night from the roof of a house in the faubourg. It bears the indentations of three or four balls which the Russian sentinels fired at the prizeholder. To one of the sustaining poles is hooked the St.-Gobain,—that little glass in a round zinc box, where we look proudly every morning to see whether the powder is not yet blackening the faces of French warriors,-to the other pole is fastened a wire, which serves as a candlestick for the stearine candles, for which we pay two francs each at Balaklava, in honor of a comrade who comes to pass the evening with us. The ground of our home was floored with pebbles; and we preferred to sleep upon this hard bed, always clean, instead of hay or grass. But what joy on the day when we cut a square of carpet from a Russian house, and carpetted our tent! All the regiment was jealous of us. Our carpet was the subject of general conversation, and some rich officers My dear young lady," said M. de Longueville, offered us its weight in gold. I dreamt too happily rising from table, and deliberately lighting his bed-upon it to sell it. Such was my lodging, and that room candle, " as the storm is now over, and we may of my comrade Fritcher, from November till March. all retire to rest, with some prospect of a pleasant It was called in the camp the trumpeter's boudoir, sleep, I do not mind confiding to you that I have an and it was known far off by its proud chimney. immense amount of respect and admiration for the This boudoir is very narrow, very crowded for two, holy Saint Christophe-and for a lightning-conductor yet somehow we could always find room for a friend planted in the midst of every vineyard. If all vine- in it.-Souvenirs d'un Zouave devant Sebastopol. growers were of the same faith, we should have better wines, and more of them. I wish you a very good night."-Chambers's Journal.

"A very effective ending, indeed, Monsieur de Longueville," I said, with a smile, as my friend delivered the latter sentences, with somewhat of a parliamentary air, and closed his commonplace-book; "“and an interesting subject. Still, I hope we shall defy the storm' with better success than Ajax, who, if I remember rightly, was consumed by lightning after all. But tell me, how is it that, with all your love of science, and your researches into exploded superstitions, you yet intrust the safety of your récolte to Monsieur le Curé and the holy Saint Christophe?"

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RUTH.

When the sunlight kissed the hill-tops,
In the dew of early morn,
Ruth went out behind the reapers

Through the golden shocks of corn. Patience gleaned with her the pastures, Hope sobbed softly in her sighs, Love lit up her trembling features

With a glow of Paradise. Then said Boaz to the reapers,

"Hers be all that each man leaves, Trouble not the Jewish maiden

Let her glean among the sheaves." Long the master loved to linger

Looking backward o'er the plain, Seeing there a sweeter treasure

Than the summer-scented grain. Ruth no longer haunts the pastures, Sobs no more amid the corn, Follows not the other reapers

Through the dewy fields of morn. But the harvest songs from meadow,

Slumbrous hillside, billowy plain, Bear the tidings-She is mistress

Over all the rustling grain."

Thus when Love and Hope and Patience,
Glean the pastures God has sown,
Softly angel-songs shall welcome
Us the reapers as his own.

Portland, Me.

J. O. B.

BOARD AND LODGING IN THE CRIMEA.

I and Fritcher had pitched our tent between the companies' kitchens and the canteen. Being a Zouave myself, I don't wish to boast about Zouave industry and ingenuity; but I assure you that all that has been said about us on this score is below the truth. A tente-abri is a temporary affair that is spread at night and folded up in the morning; and if it do not protect altogether from the rigors of the night, at least it can be carried anywhere, and can be planted anywhere with ease. Before Sebastopol it became our business to turn this provisional shelter

NOTES AND QUERIES.

MR. EDITOR,-From a volume on the History of Printing I extract some remarks upon Italic letter which may be of sufficient interest for your columns. MARTEN.

"As Roman characters owe their invention to the ancient Romans, so have Italic letters the learned Aldus Manutius for their author; who was a Roman by birth, and who in the year 1490 erected a Printing-house in Venice; where having abolished the Letter which resembled the writing of Monks, and introduced Roman types, of a much neater cut, invented that beautiful letter which we and several other nations call Italic; though the Germans, and those who join with them, show themselves as ungenerous in this instance, as they do with respect to Roman; for they give Italic letter the name of Curtiv; whereby the memory of its original descent is stifled. In the beginning it was called the Venetian Letter, by reason that Manutius was settled at Venice, when he brought his new-invented letter to perfection; which not long after was dedicated to the State of Italy, thereby to prevent the disputes which might arise if any other nation should venture to claim the priority of it; as was the case about the first Invention of Printing.

The Rev. R. C. Trench, in one of his lectures on the "Study of Words," has the following:

"Sometimes a slightly different spelling comes in aid of an enormous divergence of meaning, to disguise the fact of two words having originally rested on one and the same etymolo. gy, and really being so closely related to one another that we may say, in fact, they are one and the same word. I would instance as a notable example of this, 'canon,' with a single n, as the 'canon' of scripture, and cannon,' or heavy artillery. Can there, it may well be asked, be any point in common between them? Can they be resolved ultimately into the same word? I believe they can. The word canon,' with the single n, which is a Greek word, means, properly, 'rule;' first, the measuring rule or line of the carpenter; and then, figuratively, any measure or rule by which we try other things; and in its crowning use, the Holy Scriptures, as being regulative of life and doctrine in the church. But the carpenter's rule was commonly a reed (canna), that being selected on account of its straightness; you inay remember, in Scripture, mention once or twice being made of the measur ing reed,' and from this reed or canna' the rule or line (the

canon') had its name, or at any rate the words are most closely allied. A reed, however, as we all know, besides he ing straight is also hollow; and thus it came to pass when the hollow engines of war, our modern artillery, were invented, and were feeling about for their appropriate name, none was nearer at hand than this which the reed supplied, and they

were called cannon' too."

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This naming of the barrel of a gun on the idea of a tube is natural enough. The barrel of a gun-or the gun itself-is sometimes called a tube in English-as, Pope, "Windsor Forest: "

"He lifts the tube, and levels with his eye,

And straight a short thunder breaks the frozen sky." Yet I do not think that this must be taken in confirmation of Mr. Trench's etymology of cannon. To have named the cannon for its hollowness, which is not a peculiarity-which

is something that it has in common with a thousand other things would make it a singular exception to the principle upon which we find names universally to be given. I am of opinion that though Mr. T. has the right word, he has traced it by the wrong idea.

There was a game common among the Spanish Moors, and caught from them by the Castilians, called the tilt of reeds(cañas.) The lances (canes) used in this game were of great length, and by a very natural abstraction the idea that a Spaniard would have of this game, as distinguishing it from all other games, would be the distance from which the players hit each other-the remarkably "long taw," as the school boys would call it.

This same idea, greatly exaggerated, would be the very one that would arise in the minds of men in connection with the cannon when it first came into use. So taking the word caña, which would express the idea, and adding the termination by which the language expresses increase or greatness, and we have literally canon-(cannon). W.

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SECOND REGULAR TRADE SALE,

UNDER THE DIRECTION OF

THE NEW YORK BOOK PUBLISHERS' ASSOCIATION,

TO COMMENCE THURSDAY, MARCH 20th.

HE annexed List of Contributors to the coming Trade Sale, shows the result of the drawing by the

THE

SONGS AND BALLADS

OF THE

AMERICAN REVOLUTION.

LOYAL AND WHIG.

With Notes and Illustrations.

BY FRANK MOORE.

"More solid things do not show the complexion of the times as well as Ballads and Libels!"-Selden.

1 vol., 12mo., with two illustrations by Darley. Price, $1.

Committee, for places in the Catalogue. Invoices will be arranged accordingly, and sold in the THIS volume presents a selection from the

following order.

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numerous productions, in verse, which appeared during the war of the American Revolution. Many of them are taken from the newspapers and periodical issues of the time, others from original ballad, sheet, and broadsides; while some have been received from the recollections of a few surviving soldiers, who heard and sang them amid the trials of the camp and the field.

Nearly every company had its "smart one," a poet who be

The SALE OF BOOKS will commence THURSDAY, 20th March, instead of Tuesday, the 25th. The guiled the weariness of the march, or the encampment, by

STATIONERY will be sold after the Books.

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS.

1 J. W. LEONARD & CO.

2 MERRIAM, MOORE & CO.

3 L. P. CROWN & CO.

4 BURNHAM BROS.

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57 SAMUEL RAYNOR. 58 J. W. MOORE.

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his minstrelsy, grave or gay, and the imperfect fragments which survive to us, provoke our regret that so few of them have been preserved.—Extract from Editor's Preface.

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It is a curiosity of literature, a patriotic treasury of quaint, yet honest verse, an antiquarian gem, a native and primitive fruit-in short, a delectable book for the curious in literature, and the lovers of the native muse, in her rude infancy. The notes indicate patient research, and give historical value to the work. * The verses to the memory of Hale, are mournfully graphic; and, as we take up the book, fresh from Irving's page, it seems to transport us to hamlet and bivouac, and reproduce the life of the people, when the events of the Revolution were gradually unfolding.-Boston Evening Transcript.

The real life of a people may be found in its songs and ballads. The prosaic pen of the historian gives only an outline of the picture; the true color and complexion of the times are preserved in those traditionary legends and songs, which, conceived on the impulse of the moment, inspired by the time and the occasion, and the absorbing scenes of heroic action, are handed down from father to son, and cling to the very heart of the people. Mr. Moore's collection has been long needed, and is a valuable contribution to our national literature.-Albany Morning Express.

Mr. Moore has done a real service to the country, not only in a literary, but a historical point of view; and no library or private collection, of any pretension or value, can be without this volume of poetical history. Moore's collections of the BALLADS and SONGS of the REVOLUTION must fill the sam place in the literature of this country, that is filled in Great Britain by SCOTT'S MINSTRELSEY of the SCOTTISH BORDER. -Criterion.

The work fills a void in our national and historical literature; and also addresses itself especially to the tastes and comprehension of the masses of the people.-Transcript and Eclectic.

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I regard this volume as an exceedingly valuable contribution to our historic literature. * * With the rude effu sions here first collected, was born American liberty; and the harp of Homer or Milton could not have been tuned to a nobler resolve, than that which called them forth.-Cor. of Boston Post.

Mr. Moore has done for his country what Herder did for the Jewish nation-what Goethe and Schiller labored to perform for Germany, early in the last century-namely, to give to the land of his birth a ballad literature; not, indeed, created by his own genius, but collected from among those emanations which were called forth when the forefathers of our country were upon the battle-field, in defence of human rights, and with arms in their hands. The fruit of his labors will be received with enthusiastic delight. His work breathes of Bunker Hill, of Concord, and Lexington. Its poetic productions are associated with that struggle, which is among the most noble in history-American Independence. And every American will read it.-N. Y. Entr' Acte.

This is one of the most beautifully prepared volumes of the season, and is worthy of the reminiscences it brings to us, in living form, of the times that tried men's souls, and laid the foundation of this free Republic. It is a precious legacy, which every American should possess, and leave as a treasure to his children. Let no American home be without it. Let our children learn, and sing, too, the songs and ballads of seventy-six. They will teach them the price of liberty, and make them stronger and more firmly resolved to perpetuate its blessings.-American Spectator.

Published by D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 346 & 348 Broadway, New York

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1st. All Contributions announced in the Catalogue to be sold without reserve, unless withdrawn before the commencement of the Sale, Contributors being allowed the privilege of increasing the quantities at the time of Sale if they so desire. 2d. All books sold shall be charged to the purchaser (unless he is an agent for persons absent from the Sale, in which case they can be charged as he may direct); and after his wants are supplied, the remainder shall be open for further competition; and if any dispute shall arise between two or more bidders, the lot so disputed shall be immediately put up again and re-sold; and after the claimants at the first price are satisfied, the succeeding lots of the same work shall be doubled in quantity.

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They have the pleasure of announcing that the following Houses will be contributors to this Sale, in addition to others not yet ascertained, viz.:

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without delay.

WHEELER & CO., WM. A.
WASHBOURNE, H., & CO.

Contributors are requested to forward their Invoices immediately, as it is desired to issue the Catalogue

13 Park Row, Jan., 1856.

BANGS, BROTHER & CO.

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