MANY of our old subscribers will remember the sketch entitled

Taming Wild Maggie," which was published in THE STUDENT a little more than a year ago, giving an account of the origin of the day-school of the House of Industry, at the Five Points in New York. They will also remember the name of Mr. Pease as the person who was chiefly instrumental in the taming of that ragged, saucy girl, and teaching her to become the bright, intelligent, and gentle young lady that she now is. It is to the indefatigable labors of that noble-hearted, self-sacrificing man that New York is indebted for one of the most remarkable and successful efforts at reform, among the outcast and forsaken, that ever blessed any city or land under heaven.

Our readers are doubtless acquainted with the results of the efforts of Mr. Pease, and we will now give them a brief sketch of his personal history, accompanied with a portrait, which, though a good likeness, yet fails to convey a faithful idea of him as he is seen almost constantly engaged in those missionary labors which have enlisted his whole soul and energies.

Lewis M. Pease was born in Lisle, Broome County, New York,

August 25, 1818, in one of the rough log-cabins of the pioneer settlers of that region. His ancestors were from Canaan, Columbia County, in this State. There was no school near his home, and when Lewis was six years old, he was sent to one at the "Caldwell Settlement," some four or five miles distant. At fifteen, he manifested a strong desire for reading. He used to gather pine knots to serve him for a light, when candles were scarce, and as the light of them fell upon the pages before him, he improved both the evening hours and those of early morning.

When about eighteen he united with the Methodist Church, and soon afterward began to think of becoming a preacher. His father died when he was eighteen, and he went out to work on a farm, at ten dollars a month, to earn something to aid in supporting the family, and assist himself in gaining an education. After a hard summer's work he started for Cazenovia, N. Y., with twenty dollars in the pockets of his coarse suit of homespun, determined to get an education that would fit him for the new phase of life opening upon him.

When his money was gone he went to work and earned twenty dollars more, and then returned to his studies. The next winter he taught school. In this manner, alternating between work, teaching, and study, he qualified himself for his labors before he was twentyfive years of age.

As usual with the Methodist preachers, he was stationed at several places, from 1842 to 1848 chiefly within a few hours' ride from New York city. During these years he made frequent visits here, and spent much time in looking into the abodes of misery among the poor and vicious. He grew more and more interested in their behalf, and talked much about plans for rescuing these poor outcasts from society.

In May, 1850, he realized the dawn of his hope in this direction, by receiving an appointment from the bishop, to the destitute poor in New York city; and the ladies of the Home Missionary Society undertook the responsibility of providing him with a salary of nine hundred dollars a year. His plan of reformation was to provide those who had no means of support but begging and stealing with some employment, as a means by which they could earn bread without being driven to crime to obtain it. "The children must be fed," said he," before they can be taught any thing useful in this life, or beneficial to them for the next." These views Mr. Pease has labored incessantly to carry out, and his labors have been attended with a remarkable success.

Believing he could do more good in an independent capacity, he disconnected himself from the Ladies Home Missionary Society, but continued his labors among the lowly, depending chiefly upon aid from contributions by the benevolent. He opened a work-shop, where he gave out sewing and shoe-making; also a day-school and Sunday-school, and a place of religious worship. For four years he has labored, and still continues, amid the squalid wretchedness of the Five Points of New-York; and the fruits of these years of toil are abundant, in the children saved from a life of degradation, misery, and crime, and of the fallen lifted up, and helped to earn a comfortable and honest livelihood.

SWALLOWS.

WALLOWS! Who does not love them? To us they have ever been favorite birds. Often have we watched them in their busy labors, while gathering materials with which to build their nests, in early summer; and have followed them with our eyes, as they darted past, to and fro, skimming near the ground at the approach of a storm, now and then dipping their wings in the smooth water of the gentle stream; and they appeared so happy. We love their harmless presence; thoir merry twitterings; their clean and shining plumage. The world seems one of happiness to them, and it might be more truly such, were it not for the cruelty of some human beings.

On the Boulevards in Paris, a fashionable resort for promenading, where may be found seats for those who would rest or lounge, and convenience for refreshments, one often meets persons bearing long wooden cages, containing half a dozen or more swallows, usually young ones, which have been cruelly captured from their nests. These innocent birds are thus borne about, exposed to the view of those who may chance to be seeking pleasure or recreation, and frequent appeals are made to the passers-by to purchase the freedom of a bird. "Two cents for the liberty of one, only two cents; take, ladies and gentlemen, it will bring good luck." Thus is carried on

a speculation with the sympathies and pity of the public. And many young swallows are bought free, and the poor trembling captives set at liberty, to sport at will through the free air. It is pleasant to observe the apparent joy of these birds as they fly off from the benevolent hands of their liberators.

"Do no harm to the swallow; he is the bird of God," has been often repeated to the young. Would that they might remember this humane injunction when arrived at manhood's years; and would, too, that they might never do harm to any of God's creatures.

Speaking of swallows in Paris, we are reminded of an incident which occurred in that city, and was related by an eye-witness. A swallow alighted on one of the colleges, and accidentally slipped its foot into a noose of a string attached to a water-spout. By endeavoring to escape, this string became drawn tightly around its leg. Its strength became exhausted in vain attempts to fly, and at length it uttered piercing cries, which soon assembled a vast multitude of swallows.

They seemed to consult together for a little while, and then one of them darted at the string, and struck it with its beak as it flew past; others followed in quick succession and did the same, each striking at the same place. After continuing this combined operation for half an hour, the cord was severed, and the captive set free to join the flights of its companions. What an instinct must those birds

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possess, which could direct them to act under such circumstances as if guided by reason!

Summer has now closed, and the swallows, young and old, have held their meetings of preparation, on the roofs of the barns, for their journey south. Each parent-bird has instructed its young that, before the cold winter cramps the insects, they must escape to some distant, warmer clime. The course of the journey has been pointed out to the inexperienced traveler, by short excursions. As the chilly nights come on, and a frost, they improve a bright morning, and rising in flocks high above the trees commence their journey.

They often rest for a short time on their way, when some suitable spot is found; but they hasten forward to Florida and the southern coast of the Gulf of Mexico, ere they tarry long. Most of them, on the approach of cool weather there, go still farther south, to pass the winter in a warmer clime.

Happy, charming bird, adieu! But when the genial rays of spring shall again revisit earth, come thou, as a harbinger of milder weather; cheer us with thy presence; and receive a hearty welcome in our midst !

ANECDOTES OF GEOLOGISTS.

THE geologist, while making his researches, usually dresses for the occasion, with little regard to personal appearance; hence his standing in society is often misjudged. On one occasion Professor Sedgwick, after becoming fatigued in his labor among the rocks, stopped at a country inn for a lunch. On asking what he had to pay, he was told "fourpence." He remarked on the smallness of the charge. "Ah, sir," said the landlady, "I should ask eightpence to any one else, but I only ask fourpence from you, for I see you have seen better days." At another time a lady stopped by the roadside where he was working, and, after making a few inquiries, gave him a shilling, because his answers were so intelligent for his station. He met the same lady at dinner next day, to her great astonishment.

A well-known English geologist on one occasion, with his pockets full of the day's treasures, took passage in a stage-coach, and, being tired, fell asleep. Waking at his journey's end he was horrified to find his pockets empty. An old woman who sat beside him feeling his pockets full of stones, took him for a madman, so she slyly picked out the fossils and tossed them on the road-side.