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makes his way across the stream to where ! empty as a drum, and has in him but one you stand, and some twisted roots at your solitary caddis. The third trout must have feet. Reel up your line with all speed, and feasted for days like an alderman. He is checkmate him by a counter-move down the positively full of young fish,* and among stream. He is furious, of course, at being them unmistakeably one or two that are not foiled, and tries hard to win; but, if you are minnows, but clearly of his own “flesh and sure of the strength of your collar, bring blood," born him steadily away down to shallower water, below. He is now out in the swift mid-cur

mid-eur/" To sail and glitter through the silvery flood;" rent, and your winch discourses right good but snatched away into untimely death, permusic. If you cannot check him, and he chance by their own progenitor. For. will go over that little fall into the pool be- however charming or well-authenticated may low, let him go. You will alarm all the fish | be the stories of affection displayed by the there, but that matters nothing now at the whale for her young ones, no such parental close of your work; and you will have an

affection is to be found here. The trout easier landing place, a smooth bit of gravel,

will feast on spawn before it is a week old, ending in a shallow of a couple of inches.

and young troutlings by the dozen not two But there you must finish the battle. Di

| inches long. Here, in this shallow, on a rectly down the stream his instinct tells him

summer evening, you may see the back-fin he cannot further go, as between him and

of a big fish dash suddenly across the pool, the next run is a bank of chalky sand with and his terrified kindred flying before him hardly water enough to float a gudgeon. like Hop'o'-my-thumb and his brothers beHis only chance of escape is up stream now, fore the giant. Once out in the stream they through the fall into the deep water; and escape his ravenous jaws, by hiding among this you must prevent. He fights hard, but the stones, the colour of which is their own: the struggle is over at last, and you have

a chance of escape not open to the hapless him safe in the net. Let him lie there on minnow

minnow, whose coat of silver and dark grey the grass, until dead.*

exposes him to immediate detection, wherThe last gleam of a fiery sunset is now

ever he may be. falling here and there brightly on the wind-And now, our pleasant day by the Clear ing river; and the alder bushes on the op- Water is ended. “Fish are feeding gaily in posite slope, as we walk across the dewy all directions, † and will feed on for another meadow down to the hatch, are all aflame.no

le hour or more yet, at the surface. But, with High above us is sailing a long broken string such a basket-full, there is no need for more: of rooks, heavily winging their way home though the generous squire is never so well to a far-off belt of lofty elms; the swallows pleased as when his friends go home reare still busy over the stream ; and the lonely joicing under a heavy creel. And we hope cry of the corn-crake dies away on the hill- that our readers will count the day not illside, where a party of swarthy reapers are

spent. Your true fly-fisher does more than binding their last sheaves. Come down to

o learn to kill trout, or even to watch the the edge of this pebbly beach, and while shining

hile shining waters. “By the side of a pleasyour rod is being packed up, we will have a ant river," says cheerful Mr. Cotton, “thou look at the contents of the basket. Seven

art otherwise pursuing thy recreation. For goodly fish, weighing not far short of eleven

the gliding of waters, the song of birds, the pounds, and all, but that half-starved curi- lowing of cattle, and the view of delightful osity from the mill-tail, in prime condition.

prospects, and the various occupations of A brace of the best of the fish we will open

rural life, shall dispose thee to quiet reflecand clean in the shallow, as they are to

tion. While the beauties of Nature, the travel to London by the early train to-mor

power, wisdom, and goodness of the Alrow morning. The first shall be the twopounder out of this very pool. He is as red| • Cotton, in his “ Angler," tells us of a trout, out

of which he took near one hundred minnows."

† Some idea of the number of fish in this beautiful stream may be formed from the following facts. The May-fly season lasts for about fourteen days,

and is at its height from about May 28th to June 7th. is full of stony, gritty caddis-worms, and in

During that time, in 1866, the following was the rehis gullet is a good-sized lump of what looks sult:like half-digested water-flies and midges. No. of fish taken, 72. No. of rods, 3. The long scarecrow of a fish is almost as . Total weight of fish, 147 lbs. 4 oz. Average weight,

2 lbs. . The habit of striking fish on the back of the

Two largest fish, 4 lbs. 12 oz., 3 lbs. 8 oz. head after being captured is a bad one. It kills

Greatest number in one day, fourteen fish, weigh

ing 25 lbs. them. no doubt, by injuring the spine, but when dressed, they look black and bruised all round the After the May-fly season the river is not much neck and throat.

fished.

mighty, in caring for all His creatures; the passing reapers, and take one more glance order and course of His providence; the at the “ pleasant river." The ruddy glow rewards of a good life, and the certainty of sunset has faded out of the sky, and a of thine end, be thy subjects of meditation.” soft mist is creeping over the meadows, as “Atte the least," says Dame Juliana Ber- we make our way stoutly up the valley. ners, (some two centuries before honest After ten hours thus healthily spent in the Walton's time), “ the angler hath his hol- fresh air, the prospect of supper at the vilsom walke, and is mery at his ease; he lage inn is not an unpleasant one. And, bath a swete ayre of the swete savoure of if " optimum condimentum fames" be true, the meede flowers that makyth him hungry; we shall not need a three mile walk to give he hereth the melodious armory of fowles, a relish to our repast. Hark! as we gain swannes, duckes, and cotes. And if he take the brow of the hill, the lonely village spire fyshe, surely thenne no man is merrier in says nine o' the clock, and as the sounds die his spryte than he."*

away, far-off may be heard the faint music Say Good-night, therefore, cheerily to the of rushing waters as they hurry on to join * Treatise on Fyshing, by Dame Juliana Berners.

the silver Test, on its way down to the disPrinted by Caxton, 1486.

tant sea.

SAMUEL LOVER, the Irish poet, novelist, and rather travel by diligence than face the imaginartist, died at Dublin on Wednesday last, at the ary perils of Mr. Fell's zig-zag over the mounadvanced age of seventy-one years. His father tain. Add to these prejudices the alarms raised was a stock-broker in Dublin, and educated his by interested prophets on each side of the mounson for commercial pursuits; but Lover soon tain, who predict some dreadful accident as inquitted business and devoted himself to litera- evitable, and it is as much as can be hoped at ture and painting. A series of “ Legends and present if the number of passengers can just be Stories of Ireland," published in the city of his said to increase. People who allow themselves birth, attracted considerable notice, but he was amenable to reason know that the mountain soon called to London in the hope of obtaining railway is not only as safe as the level line, bat employment as a miniature painter - one of his very much safer, The Savoy Journal, speaking miniatures exhibited in the Royal Academy hav- of the rapid descent of a train over an incline ing been received with great favor. His expec- whose gradient is 1 in 12, says that," thanks to tations do not appear to have been realized, and the supplementary brakes, which supply an ad be again turned to letters, writing some very libitum pressure on the central rail, the pace attractive songs, — “ The Angel's Whisper," may be slackened, and the train stopped almost “ Rory O'More,” the “ Four-Leared Sham- instantaneously, even when going at full speed rock,” among them. He next published a novel, on the steepest inclines;” and it adds that " ! naming it after his successful song, “Rory horse is less docile to guidance than this mounO'More," and that the theme might be thorough tain locomotive.” That the line is a success is ly exhausted he dramatized the story and it was shown by the fact that people in Italy are already produced on the stage under the same title. beginning to talk about forming new lines of the To Treasure Trove” and “Handy Andy” are same description. One, amongst many others, two of his later and best known novels. In the seems likely, before long, to connect Italy with year 1844 the versatile author tried a new the centre of Switzerland. method of pleasing the public, appearing in an

London Review, 27 June. entertainment consisting of recitations from his own works and the singing of his own songs. These entertainments were repeated in this coun- A Boston rhymester tells why people go to try a few years later, and on his return to Ire- Saratoga :land he delivered a few lectures, and retired to private life. In 1856 he received a pension of

“Some come to partake of the waters one hundred pounds a year from the British

(The sensible old-fashioned elves), government. Mr. Lover's works, both in prose

And some to dispose of their daughters, and verse, are written in a graceful and pleas

And some to dispose of themselves, ing style, and are not wanting in the pathos and

And some to squander their treasure, genial humor characteristic of the author's race.

And some their funds to improve,
Daily Advertiser, 10 July.

And some for mere love of pleasure,

And some for the pleasure of love,

And some to escape from the old, THE Mont Cénis Railway is slowly conquer

And some to see what is new, ing the prejudices of those old-fashioned travel But most - it is plain to be told lers who prefer the level line, and who would Come here because other folks do!"

No. 1263.- August 15, 1868.

CONTENTS. 1. SALEM WITCHCRAFT, . . . . .

Edinburgh Review,
.

. 887 2. St. SERF AND THE ROBIN, . . . . . . Bentley's Miscellany, . 411 3. CELEBRATED SANCTUARIES OF THE MADONNA, . . Christian Remembrancer, 413 4. THE OYSTER TRADE OF THE CHESAPEAKE,

Baltimore Sun, . . 420 5. PAINEAS FINN. Part X., . . . . . . . St. Paul's, . . . 421 6. BRIDE OF THE EMPEROR OF China, . . . . London Review, . . 435 7. HABAKKUK ; A STUDY FOR THE TIMES,

Christian Observer, 436 8. NITRO-GLYCERINE: THE NEW EXPLOSIVE, .

Westminster Review, 438 9. SAMUEL LOVER, . . . . . . . London Review, . . 444 10. CONQUERING ADVENTURERS, . . . . . . Spectator,

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Not a whit fo And you care

From Good Words. Yet, alas ! Love's light you deign
AVICE.

But to wear “On serait tenté de lui dire, Bonjour, Mademoi

As the dew upon your plumes, belle la Bergeronnette." - V. Hugo.

Not'a whit for rest or hush ;
Though the voice of modern schools

But the leaves — the lyric gush,
Has demurred,

And the wing-power, and the rush
By the dreamy Asian creed

Of the air. 'Tis averred, That the souls of men, released

So I dare not woo you, Sweet, From their bodies when deceased,

For a day,
Sometimes enter in a beast, -

Lest I lose you in a flash,
Or a bird.

As I may ;

Did I tell you tender things,
I have watched you long, Avice,
Watched you so,

You would shake your sudden wings;

You would start from him who sings, I have found your secret out ; And I know

And away.

A. D. That the restless ribboned things, Where your slope of shoulder springs, Are but undeveloped wings That will grow.

.. From St. Paul's. When you enter in a room,

AMONG THE CORN.
It is stirred
With the wayward, flashing flight

The girl sat down ’mid the rustling corn,
Of a bird ;

And startled a nested bird, And you speak — and bring with you

And up it sprang with a burst of song ; Leaf and sun-ray, bud and blue,

But I do not think she heard.
And the wind-breath and the dew
At a word.

She sat her down on the low stone wall,

And gazed at the sunset sky :
When you called to me my name,

I cannot think that she saw its glow,
Then again

For why should it make her sigh?
When I heard your single cry
In the lane,

What does she think about, sitting there? All the sound was as the “ sweet”

What does her spirit see? Which the birds to birds repeat

Is she thanking God for His golden sky, In their thank-song to the heat

And for river and hill and tree?
After rain.

No : for her heart's in the city streets, When you sang the “ Schwalbenlied,”

Where the working-day is done : 'Twas absurd,

The crowds are hurrying home, she knows, But it seemed no human note

But she only thinks of one !
That I heard ;
For your strain had all the trills,
All the little shakes and stills,

She sees a room in an old brown house, Of the over-song that rills

With a window long and low,
From a bird.

Where above the hum and the dusty moil

Some country geraniums grow. You have just their eager, quick “Airs de tête,”

She dreams of the life the women have All their flush and fever-heat

Who live in such homely place : . When elate;

Is it the light of the setting sun
Every bird-like nod and beck,

That is glowing on her face?
And a bird's own curve of neck
When she gives a little peck

What of the meadows that smile below,
To her mate.

Or the ruddy clouds above?

They are but the gold God gave to set When you left me, only now,

Round His priceless gem of love.
In that furred,
Puffed, and feathered Polish dress,
I was spurred

Let her sit and dream 'mid the rustling corn Just to catch you, O my Sweet,

Till the golden sky grows grey : By the bodice trim and neat,

We scarcely notice God's earth is fair Just to feel your heart a-beat,

Till something is gone away.
Like a bird.

ISABELLA FYVIE.

From The Edinburgh Review. mer evenings the green surface surrounding Salem Witchcraft; with an Account of Sa- the amethyst islands, where white foam

lem Village, and a History of Opinions spouts out of the caves and crevices. On on Witchcraft and kindred subjects. By land, there are still the craggy hills, and CHARLES W. UPHAM. 2 vols. Boston the jutting promontories of granite, where (U.S.): 1867.

the barberry grows as the bramble does The name of the village of Salem is as with us, and room is found for the farmfamiliar to Americans as that of any pro- stead between the crags, and for the applevincial town in England or France is to trees and little slopes of grass, and patches Englishmen and Frenchmen; yet, when ut- of tillage, where all else looks barren. The tered in the hearing of Europeans, it car- boats are out, or ranged on shore, accordries us back two or three centuries, and ing to the weather, just as they were from suggests an image, however faint and tran- the beginning, only in larger numbers; and sient, of the life of the Pilgrim Fathers, far away on either hand the coasts and who gave that sacred name to the place of islands, the rocks and bills and rural their chosen habitation. If we were on the dwellings, are as of old, save for the shrinkspot to-day, we should see a modern Amer- ing of the forest, and the growth of the ican seaport, with an interest of its own, cities and villages, whose spires and schoolbut by no means a romantic one. At pres- houses are visible here or there. ent Salem is suffering its share of the ead- Yet there are changes, marked and memversity which has fallen upon the shipping orable, both in Salem and its neighbourtrade, while it is still mourning the loss of hood, since the date of thirty-seven years some of its noblest citizens in the late civil ago. There was then an exclusiveness war. No community in the Republic paid about the place as evident to strangers, and its tribute of patriotic sacrifice more gen- as dear to natives, as the rivalship between erously; and there were doubtless occasions Philadelphia and Baltimore, while far more when its citizens remembered the early days interesting and honourable in its character. of glory, when their fathers helped to chase In Salem society there was a singular comthe retreating British, on the first shedding bination of the precision and scrupulousof blood in the War of Independence. But ness of Puritan manners and habits of now they have enough to think of under the thought with the pride of a cultivated and pressure of the hour. Their trade is par- travelled community, boasting acquaintance alysed under the operation of the tariff; with people of all known faiths, and familtheir shipping is rotting in port, except so iarity with all known ways of living and much of it as is sold to foreigners; there is thinking, while adhering to the customs, much poverty in low places, and dread of and even the prejudices, of their fathers. further commercial adversity among the While relating theological conversations chief citizens; but there is the same vigo-held with liberal Buddhists or lax Mohamrous pursuit of intellectual interests and medans, your host would whip his horse, to pleasures, throughout the society of the get home at full speed by sunset on a Satplace, that there always is wherever any urday, that the groom's Sabbath might not number of New Englanders have made be encroached on for five minutes. The their homes beside the church, the library, houses were hung with odd Chinese copies and the school. Whatever other changes of English engravings, and furnished with may occur from one age or period to anoth- a variety of pretty and useful articles from er, the features of natural scenery are, for China, never seen elsewhere, because none the most part, unalterable. Massachusetts but American traders had then achieved any Bay is as it was when the Pilgrims cast their commerce with that country but in tea, first look over it. Its blue waters - as blue nankeen, and silk. The Salem Museum as the seas of Greece - rippling up upon was the glory of the town, and even of the the sheeted snow of the sands in winter, or State. Each speculative merchant who went beating against rocks glittering in ice; in forth, with or without a cargo (and the autumn the pearly waves flowing in under trade in ice was then only beginning) in his the thickets of gaudy foliage; and on sum- own ship, with his wife and her babes, was

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