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thee ("in my mind's eye, Horatio") already arrived at full perfection. I see thee led on to the cleared course, thy golden skin glistening in the sunshine. Thou walkest, for thy years, gravely and sedately down, not fleering and jerking about, as many of our skittish fillies do, but full of calm, conscious power. I see that anomalous piece of humanity" in art a man, in weight and bone a boy"yclept a jockey, bestride thy back. Now thou art getting into a line with thy two competitors (horses well known to fame), and the betting is tremendous. "Offoff-they are off!" cry a thousand voices at once. They take the lead-thou art last but never mind that. They lead thee down the hill-no matter. Ha! thou passest them on the flat-thy friends are in ecstasies, and thy groom-boy's eyes are suffused with tears of joy. done, chestnut-gallant chestnut-there's a pace for you!" Speed thee-speed thee deserve those encomiums, for the eyes of many are upon thee! Here stands thy owner, who has staked his money and judgment on thee;-here thy trembling backers;-here thy devoted groom;—here,

"Well

"Here is the trainer that watch'd o'er thy colthood,

And here is the stable-boy, dearer than all." Thou would'st not bring disgrace and ruin on those who love thee? Speed, horse, speed! Ha! by Jove! but the black horse gains upon thee-so does the gray! Perhaps it is that thy jockey finds thou hast the speed of them, and is only manoeuvring to make a better race; -perhaps thou art short of wind!-perhaps (horrible surmise!) thou art already dead beat. This next important turn will try. They gain upon thee yet. Thy backers look in each other's faces for comfort, but find none;" cold drops of sweat hang on their trembling flesh, their blood grows chilly"-now the turn! the turn! thou art last! and they "freeze with horror." The struggle now becomes tremendous between thy two rivals. Neck and neck they come thundering along, amid the suppressed breathing of the multitude; every muscle, every nerve, every fibre of their splendid frames exerted to the utmost. Neck and neck, and thou lying close at their quarters! Heaven and earth! why does thy jockey hold thee in;- is this a time for cold delay ? A few seconds more, and thou art but a lost, dishonoured horse! Whip and spur are doing their work upon the black and gray-a few strides more, and all is over-when lo! thy rider slackens

thy rein-he curbs thy impetuous spirit no longer-and, like the arrow from the bow-like the bullet from the rifle-like the sheeted lightning from the overcharged cloud, thou dartest past them, and, untouched by the spur, unscathed by the whip, thou art crowned the victor of that "hard-run field," amid the silent blessings of thy backers, and the more obstreperous admiration of the less concerned spectators.

"Pooh!" exclaims some direct descendant of the governor of Tilbury Fort,

"All this thou canst not see, Because 'tis not in sight!" whilst some other unsympathizing spirit impertinently inquires,

"What has all this to do with Spring?" As much, sir, as

"The lovely young Lavinia once had friends," has to do with Autumn. Both are graceful episodes. Surely if there is reaping in August, there is racing in April.

You

There is something especially exhilarating in the first unequivocal spring-day. Your mind feels buoyant as a billow, and clear and serene as its crystal depths. All your thoughts are delightfully anticipative-the antipodes of the dark, sombre reflections of closing Autumn, or the semi-suicidal gloom's of foggy November. There is a general revivification going on around, and you feel ten years younger than at the close of the preceding year. You are sportive and speculative. chalk out futurity with plans and projects, and then say unto yourself, " This will I do." You could almost as soon persuade yourself to take a dose of arsenic as read "Blair's Grave," or Hervey's Reflections among the Tombs." A few months ago you thought of making your will, for fear you should be "suddenly cut off." How preposterous-how extremely ridiculous! What could have put such a thing into your head? There is time enough for that. In the meanwhile you will go and plant young trees, beneath whose umbrageous shade you will seek shelter from the heats of coming summers! and sit and repeat the legends of other years to your great grandchildren. In short, you have a decided feeling that you will be a patriarch!

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Beautiful Spring! delicate divinity! capricious loveliness! hide not thyself behind that mass of murky clouds from my enraptured sight. I am no remorseless limner, intent upon pourtraying thee, after a fashion, and then sticking thee up, arrayed in a green gown, straw hat, and white stockings, in every village ale-house

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through the country! Much wrong has been done thee in this particular. The brothers of the brush and graver have much to answer for. Even in the ancient edition of Thomson, thine own peculiar bard, now lying before me, what do I look upon as thy representative? dowdy country wench, one hundred and fifty pounds avoirdupois, at the least, with a rough, coarse complexion, and indescribable features, dressed in a tightmade, long-waisted gown, frilled at the breast, walking, or rather straddling over the fields, with a substantial basket of flowers, which she is tossing about with a gawky-like affectation of ease and sprightliness. At her foot trots a large, stupid-looking lump of lamb or mutton; and underneath the whole, in order to cut off every chance of escape, is inscribed, in remorselessly legible capitals, "SPRING." But the evil does not stop here. It is susceptible of one aggravation, and the bookbinder has hit upon it; by placing this delicate impersonation in shameless juxtaposition-in most irreverent proximity to-in fact, impudently facing the bard's beautiful invocation"Come, gentle Spring! ethereal mildness, come! And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud, While music wakes around, veil'd in a shower Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend!" But lo! even while I write, thy charms, oh lovely Spring, increase in intensity; the air becomes too calorific for comfort; and thy ardent bridegroom, fierce and fervid Summer, impatiently rushes on. Sweet Spring, farewell!

GAINING BY A LOSS.

WHEN the Russian army of invasion passed through Champagne, they took away six hundred thousand bottles from the cellars of M. Moet, of Epernay; but he considers himself a gainer by the loss, his orders from the north having more than doubled since then. This ad

mirably illustrates the proverb, "a good wine needs no bush.'

ARABIA never was conquered by any foreign nation. Its sands have been its security, and the poverty of the scattered people offered no temptation. It was always the native country of romance and superstition. In it Sabeanism, or star worship, prevailed for indefinite ages, till overturned by Mahomed, in 569.

ONE of the severest penalties to which criminals in Holland were, in ancient times, condemned, was to be deprived of the use of salt.

ORIGIN OF THE POLAR EXPEDITIONS.

THE expeditions, which of late years have been so numerous, to the Northern Seas, for the purpose of establishing the fact of a north-west passage by sea, were suggested partly by the circumstance that a whale was once caught in the sea of Tartary with a Dutch harpoon sticking in its back. The weapon proved, on inquiry, to have been plunged into the animal in the Spitsbergen sea, so that there must have been a communication from one sea to the other, by which the whale passed.

JUDICIAL WIT.

TAKE off your hat, man," cried Lord Abinger to an Amazon in a riding-dress, who appeared as a witness in the Nisi Prius Court of a certain county town, during the present assizes. "I'm not a man," replied the indignant lady. "Then," said his lordship, I'm no judge."

FECUNDITY OF FISH.

Ir is only a common thing with the codfish to lay about nine millions of eggs in the season; there is an insect, however (mutilis), not a thousandth part the size of the cod, which lays about 80,000 eggs in the twenty-four hours! So much for the oviparous animals; but what is the average of their produce, compared with the number of the medusa, a genus of Zoophytes which inhabit the Greenland seas? Mr. Scoresby tells us that the number of these animals which are found upon two square miles of the surface of the sea, in the arctic regions, is so great, that it would occupy 80,000 dexterous persons for the 6000 years since the creation, merely to count them!

REMEDY FOR GRIEF.

MARSHAL de Monchy maintained that the flesh of pigeons possessed a consoling virtue. Whenever this nobleman lost a friend or relation, he said to his cook,"Let me have roast pigeons for dinner to-day. I have always remarked," he added, "that after having eaten two pigeons, I rose from the table much less mournful."

DR. GRAHAM being on his stage at Chelmsford, in order to promote the sale of his medicines, told the country people that he came there for the good of the public, not for want. Then, addressing his Merry Andrew-" Andrew," said he, do we come here for want?" "No, faith, sir," replied Andrew, "we have enough of that at home."

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OF FICTION, POETRY, HISTORY, AND GENERAL LITERATURE. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 10, 1835. Price Two-Pence.

No. 67.

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• THE stoicism and contempt for death evinced by the Indian of North America, are the theme of many a tale in that country, and a subject of astonishment with Europeans. We have many extraordinary narratives of the aborigines of North America, in which these savages" often appear to advantage when placed in juxta position with the "white man." These narratives generally illustrate the feeling, or as some would have it, want of feeling, to which we have alluded- -a resolution and courage truly spartan.

The American Indian sheds no tear, breathes no sigh of regret, and remains apparently unmoved, when he hears that his dearest relations have been captured and scalped by a hostile tribe; yet he grasps his gun and resolves on vengeance, a resolve upon which he acts with unrelenting severity; he ceases to retaliate only when the last of his enemies has

fallen, or his own career has been cut short by the more vigilant object of his revenge. Such are the characteristics of a race which is fast disappearing before the all-grasping ambition of the white man.

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About the year 1794, when the British army was in America, a party of the Chippawa Indians had captured a red man of another tribe, and according to custom, they forthwith prepared to torture him to death. The party assembled round a large fire, over which a huge camp-kettle filled with water was suspended, scalding being considered one of the most exquisite applications to which they could submit their wretched prisoner.

The captive, however, was an Indian like themselves, and was not to be daunted by the preparations for his cruel death. A boy stood by with a tomahawk, ready to give him the coupde-grace, when the band should consider that he had suffered enough; but the prisoner did not blench-he told them with exultation of his deeds; and walking round the circle with a bold air, ran

over a catalogue, doubtless an exaggerated one, of the wrongs he had inflicted upon those into whose hands he had now .fallen.

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"Manitonwin," cried he, "where are your wives, whom I seized in their canoe just before the river was frozen ?" Wabisay, I slew your son on the mountain.—I carried off the daughter of that old grey man who sits yonder! I did all that, and I do this!"

Suddenly he stopped, and bending down, tore from the arms of one of the squaws-a widow, who had come to see him suffer the infant which she held in her lap, and ere one of the tribe could interpose, he hurled the child into the boiling cauldron !

A loud shout was uttered by the Indians on witnessing this act of desperation, but it was not a shout of deprecation and vengeance, they applauded the bold deed he had in their opinion proved himself worthy of his race, and exhibited an unusual daring even for an Indian; to crown the whole, the widowed and now childless squaw rose from the circle, and claimed the destroyer of her offspring as her husband, as a means of saving his life, which was accordingly spared: the kettle which had been put in requisition for his torture, doubtless being employed in the preparation of the marriage feast.

G. L.

POVERTY AND WEALTH.

BY THEODORE S. FAY.

If wealth is full of pleasures, it is also full of danger. I should wish my son to possess riches, but not until after he had suffered poverty. A man can best examine the real naked features of human nature, from a low hovel, or be neath an humble dress. He will then make a thousand wonderful discoveries, which are secrets to one bred up in luxury. He will detect the worthless ness of much that is showy, and find greatness of soul and beautiful displays of virtue and talent where he least expected. The flatterer pulls off his mask when he comes into his presence. The virtues of the meek and the good shine out to his eyes with their true lustre. The deceits, the hollow show, and all the artificial appearances which are kept up before the powerful, are laid aside for the humble, who see them in their real shapes and colour. The former resembles a spectator in the boxes of the theatre during a representation; the

latter a wanderer behind the scenes, who beholds the performers in their actual characters. Wealth exercises several bad influences upon young men. It deprives them of the stimulus to severe application, and crowds their path with temptations to pleasure, How many strong intellects must have lain idle thus, like labourers in the sunshine, their work undone because their wants were supplied. How many more noble characters, who are now seen through past history, like beacon lights over a sea, would have gone down to obscurity undistinguished, but that want urged them onward to exertions, in the course of which their talents were developed, and their integrity brought to the test. Plutarch relates that when Mark Antony was in adversity, he voluntarily yielded to the severest toils and privations to which the meanest of his troops were subjected, and discovered so many noble qualities, that had we seen no more of his life, we might justly set him down as a great and virtuous hero; but when the tide of fortune again turned in his favour, he became again enervated, licentious, and cruel, so that he now appears one of the most degraded of men.

To the conclusion which we naturally draw from this occurrence, there are doubtless numerous exceptions. The rich are not necessarily bad, or the poor great, but we speak only of the influences of the two circumstances of being.

George and Thomas were friends at school. Both were young, clear-headed, and good-humoured, neither being remarkable for any quality of person or mind. They were just like other boys, having nothing in their bearing to indicate whether they were to turn out corsairs, poets, or orators. If there was observable in them any thing worthy of remark, it was the general similarity of their tastes, minds, and dispositions. They were both satisfied to beat the hoop, fly the kite, and spin the top without wearing out their school-books by any unnecessary application, for both would rather have their ears boxed than study a lesson.

I sometimes think what a strange sight it would be if we could actually behold, over the crowds of human beings for ever shifting around us, the influences by which their lives are, or are to be guided. How interesting this would be in a group of school-boys, who, while playing in their unconscious innocence and carelessness together, are each one already entangled inevitably, inextricably

in some viewless destiny which shall, in time, with irresistible power, draw on his young and feeble footsteps-perhaps to misery and perdition, perhaps to greatness and glory. To the eyes of one so gifted, how would Buonaparte have looked in his boyish shape? What gleaming light-what dark gloom would have by turns attended on his infant steps? But these are idle speculations.

The two boys at school were early handed over to the different influences which coloured their future career, and these were not long in becoming perceptible in their conduct and character. George and Thomas were placed at school by their parents at about the same period. Thomas was brought by his mother. The carriage door was opened by a livery footman, who helped the young master down the steps with particular care, paying him at the same time the most respectful deference.

"I have brought you my boy, Master Thomas, Mr. Robertson," said the fond parent to the conductor of the academy, while her eyes glistened with maternal affection. "I have brought you my boy, and I shall leave him in your care, I hope, for several years."

"We will do all we can to repay your confidence, Mrs. Green. What are your particular wishes respecting his studies? Will you have them selected with a view to any particular profession?"

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"Why, my dear sir, it has pleased Providence to endow us with an ample fortune, and he is our only hope; of course, we wish him to receive the education of a gentleman; but it is not probable he will ever have to work for his living."

"Then, I suppose, a thorough English course of lessons. Let him be well grounded in rhetoric, the mathematics, and-"

"Oh, my dear sir, no. There is no use in his straining his tender mind with such hard studies. Make a gentleman of him, but not a pedagogue, (I beg your pardon, sir)."

Mr. Robertson smiled and bowed. "If there was the slightest possibility of his ever having to earn his own bread, it would alter the case; but you know, my dear sir, there must be a difference between poor people and rich."

"He must learn music then, I suppose ?" said Mr. Robertson.

"Oh, music! certainly, divine music. I wish him to read it at sight. You will find a guitar among his things; and I wish you to see particularly that he

practises. You know that keeps him busy, and does not hurt his eyes. See," she added affectionately, placing her hand, glittering with jewels, beneath the youngster's chin, and pushing back the hair from his forehead, "dear little fellow, his eyes are already very, very weak."

"Do you wish him to study any of the classical languages, madam ?" "Who? what?" said Mrs. Green, looking up.

"Latin and Greek, madam. Or should you prefer Spanish and French?" "Should you like to study Latin and Greek, and Spanish and French, my dear Tom, or any of the other classical languages?"

The boy sulked a little, put his finger in his mouth, and looked down on the floor. The mother kissed him again.

"Dear little, sweet little fellow; do just what you like with him, Mr. Robertson; only never punish him, if you please; he is very tender dispositioned, and can't bear to be whipped; and of al! things don't let him study a nights, and make him attend to his music and dancing; and I wish very much to have him study Italian, it's so useful in singing. Pray, my dear, stand up strait, and be a good boy, and behave like a gentleman; and here's some money for you, my dear, and you shall often come home and see us."

So saying, although the tears were in her eyes (for mothers are still mothers, whether learned or unlearned), she smiled graciously on Mr. Robertson; kissed little Tom again and again; went away a few steps, came back exclaiming, "the dear, dear little dear ;" kissed him again, and disappeared. The boy was conducted among his companions, in due form, and soon began to be interested in their sports.

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A short time afterwards a man, dressed in a plain gray suit, with a cane, and feet dusty from an apparently long walk, stopped before the door of the academy. He held by the hand a little boy. new comers entered, and the elder addressed himself to Mr. Robertson, with whom he had been previously acquainted, with the brevity of a man of business.

"My son, Master George Steele, sir. I wish to place him at your school. His trunk will be here immediately from the neighbouring town, where the stage left

us.

The conversation usual on such occasions then ensued. Inquiries into the boy's age, tastes, capacities, &c. were

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