misbehaviour in not attacking the enemy as he had been directed, and in making an unnecessary, disorderly, and shameful retreat. To which Lee replied that he could not afford him greater pleasure than in giving him such an opportunity. He added something about the temporary power of office, and the tinsel dignity attending it not being able to obfuscate the bright rays of truth, and called for a court-martial, which was granted him. It is not necessary to go into any detail of the court-martial, which was formed on the 4th of July, at Brunswick, and lasted, following the various movements of the army, till the 12th of August. The general tenor of the investigation was favorable to Lee, much more so than at first seemed possible. Some of the officers who at first accused him, among others Mad Anthony Wayne, were found not to have understood all the circumstances of the case.

It was shown that the division

of Sir Henry Clinton had been largely reinforced by troops from General Knyphausen, and had turned upon Lee's forces, obliging them to call to their assistance the flanking parties under Morgan and Dickinson, so that, instead of the mere covering party which he had expected to cut off, Lee found himself front to front with the whole rear division of the British army, and on very unfavorable ground. He endeavored to form his troops for action, but mistakes occurred, orders were misunderstood, and one corps after another fell back, until the whole retreated. denied that he had uttered the word retreat through the whole course of the day, although he maintained that one was necessary under the circumstances, and if anything could deduct from his credit on that occasion it was that he did not order

one.

He

He was found guilty of the charges preferred against him, with the exception of the second charge, that of making" an unnecessary, disorderly, and shameful retreat," which was softened by the omission of the word "shameful." He was sentenced to be suspended from his command for one year, the sentence to be approved or rejected by Congress. Congress was three or four months in coming to a decision, but when it did come to one it was unfavorable to Lee.

He was unmeasured in his abuse of Washington, and "the court of inquisition,' as he called it. He took to his old pro

fession of letter-writing, and published a long article in the newspapers relative to the trial and the battle; but happily he was unable to injure Washington in the estimation of the judicious. He seemed to have forgotten that the court-martial of which he complained was one of his own seeking, and would probably never have been convened but for his insolent and arrogant temper after the battle. No man in the army stood higher in Washington's estimation up to that time, and certainly no one had been more honored by his friendship. Washington never mentioned his name afterward when he could avoid it; and when he could not, he spoke of him without bitterness or disrespect. His magnanimous silence deserved a world of praise. Not so Lee; he indulged in sarcasm and vituperation, until he involved himself in a quarrel with Colonel Laurens, one of Washington's aides, who felt bound to vindicate the honor of his chief. The result was a duel, in which Lee was wounded in the side.

He retired to his estate in Berkeley County in the spring of 1779. His house is said to have been a primitive sort of affair, destitute of comforts and conveniences. Instead of partitions, there were lines chalked on the floor; kitchen, parlor, and library were imaginary apartments. In one corner stood his bed; his books were in another, his saddles and harness in another. The fourth corner was the He praised the house in his sarcastic way, as the most convenient and economical establishment in the world. "I can sit in any corner," he said, “and give orders, and overlook the whole without moving from my chair."

kitchen.

When the term of his suspension expired, a rumor reached him that Congress intended to take away his commission. He wrote a hasty and intemperate letter to them, which occasioned his prompt dismissal from the service. He apologized for his note when his good sense returned to him, declaring, however, that he should have resigned even if they had not dismissed him.

He finally grew tired of his Sabine farm, which seems to have been sadly mismanaged, and entered into negotiations to sell it. This took him to Philadelphia in the fall of 1782. While there, he was seized with a fever and ague, which terminated in his death. He died in a delirium, fight

ing over his battles. "Stand by me, my brave grenadiers!" were his last words. By his will he divided his estate into three parts, two of which were to go to two of his former aides-de-camp; the third, to two gentlemen of his acquaintance. He gave his horses and weapons to friends, and made ample provisions for his domestics, one of whom he styles his "old and faithful servant, or rather, humble friend." He was eccentric, however, in the matter of his burial: "I desire most earnestly," he said, in one clause of his will," that I may not be buried in any church or church-yard, or within a mile of any Presbyterian or Anabaptist meet ing-house; for since I have resided in this country I have kept so much bad company while living, that I do not choose to continue it when dead." His last wish, however, was not complied with, for he was buried with military honors in the cemetery of Christ Church, Philadelphia.

THE SEAL AND THE WALRUS.

THE seal is distinguished from all other

THE

carnivorous mammifers by its extremely short flat feet. These organs are entirely enveloped in skin, and palmated in the form of fins. As feet, they only serve to drag the animal laboriously along the ground; but they are well adapted for swimming. Seals are true amphibia; and by this we must not understand merely animals which can live both upon the earth and in the water, but those which literally inhabit both elements and breathe atmospheric air alone.

Hitherto we have found the objects of our zoological studies on the steppes of Asia, or the burning sands of Africa; in Australian wilds, or the bosom of American forests. But now we follow them to the rocks and reefs that border all seas, and even to the eternal ices of the poles. We shall see them playing with the tempest and coquetting with the angry waves, or hunting their prey of fish and crustacea with wondrous dexterity, never approaching the earth except to suckle their young or to bask in the sunshine.

The elongated cylindrical body of the seal, gradually diminishing in size from the stomach to the tail, their flexible back bone, their powerful muscles, narrow basin, short, close-pressed hair, in short, their whole organization points them out the

best swimmers among the mammalia, if we except the cetacea.

Nature has given them a peculiar conformation, by which they remain a long time under water. Their nostrils are provided with a sort of little valve, which they open and close at will, and prevents the water from entering their nose. Another singular but well-attested fact is, that these animals have a habit of taking in ballast of small stones, which they swallow on going into the water and throw up again when they return to the shore. Some species frequent the sandy and sheltered beach, others the sea-washed rocks, and others again the thick, tufted herbage of the shore. They do not feed exclusively on fish. When they are able to seize an aquatic fowl, as an albatross or a sea-gull, they do not neglect the opportunity. They seldom eat on land. Even in captivity they plunge the food that is given them into water before eating it, and only consent to eat it dry when taught to do so very young, or when compelled by extreme hunger.

When seals wish to leave the sea, they choose a flat rock which juts out into the water with a gentle declivity and terminates abruptly. From this they cast themselves into the waves on the slightest appearance of danger. In crawling they seize upon the asperities of the surface with hands and teeth, and drawing their body forward they curve it and give a leap, repeating the process at every step. In spite of this laborious method they make considerably rapid progress even in mounting steep acclivities.

The rock upon which a seal is in the habit of reposing with his family he considers his own peculiar property. It is true that seals live in large troops in the sea, where they mutually love, protect, and defend each other; yet once upon the land, they consider themselves in a sacred domicile where no comrade has any right to approach and disturb their domestic tranquillity. If one of them does approach to visit the household gods of his neighbors there ensues a terrible combat, which ends only by the death of the proprietor of the rock or the forced retreat of the venturesome intruder. Ordinarily these combats are occasioned by jealousy, but they doubtless also have a sort of feeling of right in property. They do not seem to engross any more space than is strictly necessary, and allow neighboring families to establish

themselves at the distance of fifty paces. When necessity demands they share the same cavern, rock, or piece of ice: but each one lives in the place that falls to his lot without ever mingling with the members of another family.

Seals are polygamous, and each male generally has three or four females. He is very affectionate toward them, and when attacked he defends them with much courage.

After the birth of her young the female does not go into the water for several days, so that she need not desert her little one for a single instant. She usually remains some fifty paces from the shore, in a convenient place carpeted with aquatic mosses. It is not known that she eats anything during this interval, and she usually becomes quite thin. But by the end of the abovementioned time the young one is ready for its aquatic education, and the mother conducts it to the water. She first teaches it to swim, and then permits it to mingle with the other seals in their sports, though she still watches over it. When she wishes to go on shore to suckle it she utters a cry that has, in the ordinary seal, a close resemblance to the barking of a dog. The mother's voice is instantly recognized by the little one. It is weaned after five or six months, though maternal care is often extended through a much longer period. As soon as it is able to supply its own wants the male chases it away, and obliges it to establish itself elsewhere.

It is during a storm, when the thunders roar and the lightnings glitter in the dark heavens, that the seals delight to take their sports in the agitated waters. But when the sky is clear, and the sun floods the earth with his warm rays, it seems to be the highest object of their existence to stretch themselves out on the shore and sleep. And when surprised in this state their sleep is so profound that it is a very easy matter to kill them with poles or lances. At every wound the blood jets out freely. But these wounds, that appear so dangerous, rarely touch the life of the animal unless they are very deep. To be sure of his prey the hunter should pierce one of its principal viscera, or strike it a heavy blow on the head. Still it is not easy to approach them, for when a family sleep one of their number acts as sentinel, to waken the others on the first suspicion of danger.

Those who hunt them are obliged to come to a personal combat with them, for a gun-shot wound will rarely prevent their regaining the water. When assailed they defend themselves with much courage; but in spite of their frightful jaws and teeth this struggle is nearly devoid of danger, for their movements are quite tardy.

Between the muscles and the skin the seal has a thick layer of blubber, yielding a large quantity of oil. This is used for the same purposes as whale oil, but it has the advantage of being inodorous. Some species have fur of a greater or less thickness, and the skins are much used by the Esquimaux for garments. The northern Indians also employ their skins for a very singular purpose. They make them air tight, inflate them, and uniting several of them together they put on a platform of planks or reeds, thus forming a light raft, with which they take long voyages upon inland waters. To the Kamtschadales it is as valuable as the reindeer to the Laplander. Its skin forms their clothing, and the covering to their tents and boats. Its oil gives them light, and is used in their cookery. Its flesh, though tough, and of a strong, disagreeable odor, is their ordinary food, and when dried and smoked is laid by as provision against a time of need.

When captured young the seal domesticates readily, and shows an attachment for his master as lively as that of the dog. He recognizes his voice, obeys him, caresses him, and easily acquires the same education as the dog so far as his inferior organization permits. Some have been taught by sailors to perform various tasks, which they execute with much address and good-will. The seal unites great intelligence to extreme gentleness of character. It is remarkable that of all animals he has the best development of brain compared with the bulk of its body. He is affectionate, good, and patient; but he does not endure abuse, for then he falls into despair and becomes dangerous.

In order to keep him in good health for a length of time it is indispensable that he should be kept a great part of the day in water, especially while taking his food. At night he sleeps on straw. Thus treated, and fed on fish, he can be kept alive many years. But if he had already quitted his mother some time before he was captured, he becomes sad, sulky, refuses to eat, and soon dies.

Seals generally lack the external ear. Their body is entirely covered with short hair, which with some individuals is silky and lustrous, with others coarse, rough, and bristly. Their large membranous feet have five fingers, and their hind feet are fastened longitudinally to the tail, so that they have perfectly the sloped form of the fish. When swimming they raise their rounded heads above the water, showing their large, gentle, and lively eyes. Their shoulders also appear above the surface in such a manner that at a distance they might easily be mistaken for human figures. Hence, without doubt, have arisen the legends of the mermaid. Probability is given to this conjecture by a comparatively recent account. So late as the sixteenth century Rondelet, the best naturalist of that age, mistook a seal for a monk, or a sea-bishop, as he called it. He says that in Norway, at a certain time, a seamonster was taken after a great storm, and that all who saw it at once called it a monk; for it had the face of a man, the head close shaven, and something upon the shoulders like the hood of a monk. (?) It had two long fins in the place of arms, and the remainder of the body tapered into a long tail.

Pliny has mentioned a sea-man or mermaid as a reality, and Pausanias also mentions the mermaid. A late writer mentions having seen the likeness of another seamonster at Rome, whither it had been sent with letters affirming that in the year 1531 this monster was seen in a bishop's robe as painted; that he was captured in Poland and taken to the king of that country; that he made certain signs of wishing to return to the sea, and on being taken there he threw himself into the water immediately.

Our first cut represents the common seal, or sea-calf, (Phoca vitulina.) It is about three feet in length, of a yellowish gray, covered with irregular blackish spots. The colors of the skin vary much with its state of moisture. On coming out of the water the whole body is a slaty gray, the sides being covered with numerous little round spots on a paler ground. The lower parts are yellowish. When dry the gray appears only on the middle of the back, and the remainder of the body is yellowish. Its colors fade with age. It inhabits the coasts of the northern waters and of Europe.

The neitsoak and Ursuk (P. hispida and P. barbata) are species rendered familiar to many by the narratives of our late arctic explorers. The former is four or five feet in length, with short rounded head and small eyes. Its fur is thick, soft, and long; the color yellowish with white spots above, and white beneath. The old males exhale an insupportable odor, whence it is specified by one naturalist as P. fœtida.

The Ursuk is commonly about ten feet in length, its head long, nose large, and lips loose. It has very large black eyes. Its color varies much with age, from smoky gray to deep black. It lives in the deep waters near the North Pole. The Esquimaux value this species highly for its flesh, its oil, its intestines, (the latter they regard as great delicacies,) and for its skin, of which they make their clothing.

There are about forty species of seal, some of which are known familiarly by such names as sea-cow, sea-lion, sea-bear, etc. One, which is sometimes called the sea-elephant, (Macrorhinus proboscideus,) attains a length of from twenty-five to thirty feet, and a circumference of from sixteen to eighteen. Its fur is bluish gray, short, thick, and rough, its eyes very large and prominent, and its lower canine teeth are large and arched, and visible above the lip. It inhabits the coasts of desert islands in the Southern hemisphere, and lives in troops of from one to two hundred individuals. As these animals dislike excesses of both heat and cold, they migrate regularly to spend the summer in the colder and the winter in the warmer latitudes. During the first months of the year they scarcely ever quit the sea, where they feed on fish, crustacea, and mollusca. Then they become very fat, so that the blubber is frequently nine inches thick. Of course they yield enormous quantities of oil.

These animals are of a gentle, peaceful disposition, and very indolent. When asleep on the soft sea-weed along the shore they are easily approached, for even when they see the hunter coming with his long lance they will, through indolence, neither flee nor defend themselves. One stroke of the lance piercing their heart puts an end to their existence.

But in the pairing season they show a degree of fierceness and activity that renders all approach to them dangerous. The