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Thus a Texan once went to a theatre especially to witness the last combat and glorious death of a popular naval hero. Unfortunately, the Texan fell asleep, and did not -wake until the curtain had fallen on the final tableau. He begged a neighbor to' describe to him the spirit-stirring scene. | "Wall," was the answer, "he fired off three pistols, wrapped himself in the American flag, and diod like a son of a" mother of puppies, j Another roving Texan was once prevailed! upon to go to meeting, and was asked by a! comrad what he thought of the spiritual ex- | crciscs of the minister. "Wall," said he, j "he worn't so great in preachin', but he ( prayed like a son of a " lady dog. It is a . conjecture of our own that this gift may have! been developed by the company of a panther j in a pig-pen. We shall not describe how th'e

Earson blundered into danger, nor how the unter extricated him. Those who are induced by this notice to read the book will thank us for exciting their curiosity.

But in our amusement at particular scenes we had almost forgotten to notice that the book we have been praising contains a story with love-making, and tragic incidents, and a happy ending. Indeed, we should prefer, if possible, to forget this portion of the book altogether. It is something like a personal injury that we feel on seeing Ingun Mike made to fall in love. The Long Rifle did service in many ways to the novelist who created him, but he was never condemned to make so very poor a figure before a lady as does this modern reproduction of the sagacious and dreaded Hawk-eye. The Achilles of Homer does not shock us more in the j pages of Racine than would the white comrad of the Mohican chiefs making humble and hopeless suit to a young lady fresh from a genteel school. However, in the days of which Cooper wrote, young ladies did not

often go from school in the Old States to homes on the border land of civilization, and therefore the hearts of frontiersmen may have been safer, and their views of existence more philosophical, than they can now be. If an Ingun Mike chances to exist in the nineteenth century, he must accept the conditions of existence, of which liability to the tender passion appears to bo one everywhere. The young lady who does the mischief is the daughter of a frontier-settler, named Jackson. The only overt act of courtship committed by Mike is to shoot a tiger-cat, of which animal Miss Jackson wishes to possess a skin. The attempt at explanation which accompanies the gift is severely snubbed. Then Jackson's farm is attacked by Indians, and the family, under Mike's guidance, make for the nearest military post. But Jackson is killed as they descend the river, and Mike conducts the orphan daughter to a place of safety. Thence she goes to dwell with her father's brother, who is light-. house keeper on a sand-hank on the coast, and there the uncle and niece are besieged by Tiger Tail and a band of eight warriors. The old man is killed, and the girl is blockaded in the light-tower, when, of course, Mike comes to her relief. Need we say that the crack of his single rifle is the knell of fate to the bloodthirsty foe? Need we tell how, in three years, Miss Jackson finds out that she loves her preserver, and how she returns to affluence and civilized society, and then hints to the respectful and devoted Mike that the passion he has striven to subdue is reciprocated, and that she is prepared for the usual consequences? We close the book with a mournful apprehension that, if there be a miserable dog on earth, it must be Injun Mike after six months' experience of civilization and connubial felicity.

Bee Superstition.—A strange mode of nlluring bees, when the usual way of dressing cottagers' hives fulls, was related to me lately by an old furmor, who says lie saw it practised fifty years ngo at Churcham, near Gloucester:—

When a swarm was to be liivcd, the Churchom bee-masters, it appears, did not moisten the inside of tho hivo with honey or sugar and water, etc., bat threw into the inverted hire about a

pint of beans, which they then caused a sow to devour from tho hire; nnd deponent stated that after such a process the swarm nt onco took to tho hive. Now, when wo consider how delicately fastidious are bees as to strong or unseemly odors, tho puzzling point is, docs this custom, if fact, rest upon any natural or recognizable principle, or a it, like many other bee customs, the relic of an effete superstitious usage? —Notes and Queries.

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Short Articles.—Coverdale's Bible, 603. Proverbial Sayings, 603. The Maronites and the Druses, 609. Queen Victoria and President Buchanan, 614. Mind and Matter, 614. Poisoned Harpoons, 614, 625. Yankees, 618. Swimming, 618. Original Letter of George Fox, 622. Hot-Air Bath, 625. Bide or Drive, 628. Dr. Wright of Norwich, 628. Temples: Churches, why so called, 630. Thomas Fuller, M.D., 630. The word "ventilate," 634. Four-bladed Clover, 634. Baptismal Names, 640. Urchin, 640. Henpecked, 640.

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ODE ON THE DEPARTURE OF THE

PRINCE OK WALES.
(If the Laureate wont do his work, Punch must.)

Auspicious blow, ye gales,
And swell the royal sails
That waft the Prince of Wales
In a vessel of the line,

Away to Canada
Across the ocean brine;

As the son of his mamma,
His weather should be tiue.

What transports the Canadians will evince
When they behold our youthful prince!

Not ours alone, but also theirs,

Each colony with England shares

In Protestant Sophia's heirs.
How all the bells will ring, the cannons roar!
And they who never saw n prince before,

Oh, wont they feast him and caress him!

Waylay him, and address him,

His royal highness—bless him !—
Their demonstrations possibly may bore.

They'll make, no doubt, a greater fuss,
Than what is usually made by us
In some of our remoter parts,
Where country corporation see,
For the first time, her majesty,—

(May she be destined long to reign !)
When by her parliament set free,

She travels by a stopping train,

Britannia's trump, the queen of hearts.
But still more pressing ceremony waits
The prince in the United States;

What mohs will his hotel beset,

A sight of him in hopes to get 1

What multitudes demand
To shake him by the hand!

Hosts of reporters will his footsteps dog,

(As Baron Renfrew though he goes incoy.), Take down his every word,

Describe his mouth and nose,

And eyes, and hair, tmd clothes,
With a minuteness quite absurd.

Ye free and easy citizens, be not rude,
Disturb not our young prince's rest;

Upon his morning toilet don't intrude:
Wait till he's drest.
Oh! will that Yankee not be blest

To whom the son of England's queen shall say "Out of the way?"

And, oh—to touch a tender theme-
How will the fair around him throng,

And try, forgetting all their shyness,

To salute his royal highness,

The realization of a happy dream!
The force of loveliness is strong.

A spark's n spark, and tiridcr tinder,
And certain things in heaven are written;

And is there any cause to hinder

The Prince of Wales from being smitten?

Transcendent charms drive even monarchs frantic,

A German princess must he marry t
And who can say he may not carry

One of Columbia's fascinating daughters

O'er the Atlantic?
Truth many a one might force to own,

Hopes that to her the kerchief may be Hung,

To the ultimate exaltation of a young
American lady to the British throne.

Punch.

EPITAPH ON A SOLITARY LIFE.

Rest, gentle traveller! on life's toilsome way,
Pause hero awhile, yet o'er this lifeless clay
No weeping, but a joyful tribute pay.

For this green nook, by sun and showers made

warm,

Gives welcome rest to an o'erwearicd form,
Whose mortal life knew many a wintry storm.

Yet, are the spirit pained a full release
From earth, she had attained that land of peace,
Where seldom clouds obscure, and tempests
cease.

No chosen spot of ground she called her own,
She reaped no harvest in her spring-time sown,
Yet alway in her path some flowers were strown.

No dear ones were her own peculiar care,
So was her bounty free as Heaven's air;
For every claim she had enough to spare.

And loving more the heart to give than lend.
Though oft deceived in many a trusted friend,
She hoped, believed, and trusted to the end.

She had her joys,—'twas joy to Ijve, to love,
To labor in the world with God above,
And tender hearts that ever near did move.

She Had her griefs,—but why recount them here?
The heart-sick loncncss, the on-looking fear,
The days of desolation dark and drear,—

Since every agony left peace behind,
And healing came on every stormy wind,
And with pure brightness every cloud was lined,

And every loss sublimed some low desire,
And every sorrow helped her to aspire.
Till waiting angels, bade her " Go up higher!"
Englishwoman's Journal. K. S.

From The Quarterly Review.

Joseph Justus Scaliger. Von Jacob Bcrnays. Berlin, Herz, 1855.

From the space which Joseph Scaliger once filled in the world—at least in the world of books—it might have been, thought that he would have found many biographers. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries every writer of any figure had his Boswcll. Joseph Scaliger wrote the Life of his father Julius CiBsar. But Joseph himself is an exception. Professor Bernays, at the distance of two hundred and fifty years, is the first person who has undertaken to give any complete account of perhaps the most extraordinary man who has ever devoted his life to letters.

This remarkable silence is itself not without a cause. Scaliger's great works in historical criticism had outstripped any power of appreciation which the succeeding age possessed. It was not thatjiis name was forgotten at his death; on the contrary, his fame maintained itself at least during all the first period of splendor of the Ley den school, by whom reverence for Scaliger was exalted into a culte. But this veneration was inspired by Scaliger's secondary labors—by his gift of emendatory criticism, and his skill in the Greek language. His merit came to consist, with these worthy commentators, in fus having given good editions of two or three Greek authors, and, with the schoolmasters, in his facility in writing verses. But when it was found that the Variorum Classics were vastly better edited, and that his Greek Iambics contained metrical errors, his credit was shaken. In the philosophical eighteenth century, when the tables were turned upon classical learning, when, from having engrossed all the honors of the republic of letters, the classics were voted obsolete, or only endurable in a "modern dress," Scaligerjbccame a synonyme for a pedant. When Churchill, foaming at the mouth, would make his teeth meet in Warburton's flesh, he can do no worse than compare him to " the Scaligers, the learned pedants of the sixteenth century." Only a scholar of comprehensive knowledge, here and there one, such as Wesseling or Ruhnken, was capable of measuring the stride of Scaliger. Gradually, and recently, the revival of the study of the ancient world in Gennanv has drawn attention

to the founder of historical criticism, and men have become aware of the gulf which divides the emendatory critics, the " syllabarum aucupes," the herd of grammarians and antiquaries, from the master-mind of Joseph Scaliger. "What, when compared with him," cries Niebuhr, "is the book-learned Salmasius? Scaliger stood on the summit of universal solid philological learning, in a degree that none have reached since j so high in every branch of knowledge, that from the resources of his own mind ho could1 comprehend, apply, and decide on, whatever came in his way."'

Professor Bernays, himself a rare umon of comprehensive intellect with intimate familiarity with the details of the literary history of the time, has at last restored the younger Scaliger to his rightful throne. The powerful delineation of his philological labors presented by Dr. Bernays, throws quite a new light on the origin of historical science in modern Europe. In laying before our readers some notices of the personal life of the archcritic, we must beg to refer them to ths volume of the Breslau professor for a strictly i scientific survey of his philological and critical performances.

Joseph Juste de L'Escale was born at Agcn, then in the province of Guiennc, 4-5 August, 1540. Joseph was the tenth of fifteen cliil; dren, whom his father had by his marriage, at the age of 46, with Andiette de Roques Lobesac, oct. 16. De L'Escale is only the French form of Delia Scala, the title of the princely house of Verona, who were dispossessed by the Venetians. From a cadetbranch of this family Jules-Cesar, the father of Joseph, believed himself descended. When the Jesuits afterwards got the ear of literary Europe, they spent a vast amount of lying and forgery in disproving this descent, and at last succeeded in persuading the world of their story. The world was bored enough with Joseph in his capacity of" Princeps literarum:" it could not put up with having to acknowledge him a prince by blood besides. The Jesuit onslaught on Scaliger —for we shall use henceforth the Latinized form of the name—is an important feature in his life, and will have to be explained presently.

At eleven years of age Joseph was sent to a Latin School at Bordeaux, a school where his elder brother Sylvius had been before him, and whither his two younger brothers accompanied him. A fondness for bringing celebrated names into contact has made biographers say that George Buchanan was one of his masters. But Buchanan had quitted Bordeaux, where he had been a master at the Gymnase.-or High School, in 1544; and at the time that Scaliger went to school there,—not to the High School, but one for younger boys, kept by Simon Beaupre, of Orleans,—Buchanan was a prisoner of the Inquisition in Portugal. A plague — or rather the plague of 1554—breaking out at Bordeaux, the boys were sent home. Joseph never returned to school; nor did he get any regular instruction at home. But he enjoyed what was more useful to him than any schooling could have been—daily intercourse with his father. Julius Scaliger, though advanced in the seventies, and broken by rheumatic gout, still retained much of the vigor of his very extraordinary mind. He soothed his declining years with writing Latin verses. Scarce a day passed but Joseph was called upon to write to his dictation eighty, or one hundred, on one occasion two hundred linos. The prosody and grammar of these effusions are far from exemplary, but there is a command of the resources of the Latin vocabulary which we may seek in vain in the thinner diction of the best modern Latinists. Besides thus acting as his amanuensis, he was required by his father to produce daily a short declamation in Latin prose, turning on any story or .matter of fact he chose to select. In other respects he was left to himself, and we do not hear of his yet attempting any course of classical reading. But the daily practice of speaking and writing a language, under the control of one who knows it throughly, is worth more to a boy than any amount of reading. We may fairly ascribe to this exercise the athletic Latin prose which appears already fully matured in Joseph's earliest production, the " Conjectanea in Varronem," and that firm grasp of the principles of versification which distinguished him from all the scholars of his time. Bentley's judgment, "nemo in arte metrica Scaligero peritior," holds good, without exception, of all scholars before and after Scaliger till Bentley himself. The praise is relative; for no one knew better than Bentley that Scaliger was not free from various erroneous opinions on scansion, which Bentley himself was

the first to correct. To his own keen taste we must attribute it, that Joseph while he imbibed the good, rejected the bad. He has escaped the faults of his father's style; the ambitious strain which in Julius' Latinity fatigues the attention. The last thing which a youthful taste learns is the might of simplicity. The more artificial the model, the more captivating the tyro. We should remember this if we would do justice to the originality and native idiom which distinguishes Joseph's style, equally free from the platitudes of Ciceronianism, and the hopeless involutions of contemporary French Latin.

More important, however, than the technical tuition, such as it was, was the domestic intercourse he enjoyed as his father's constant companion during the last four years of his life. To this we may trace bis disposition for real knowledge, and the observation of nature. His subsequent superiority over other scholars lay not merely in his being a bettor scholar, but in his being something more than a scholar. The knowledge of the other philologians, however acute or book-learned, is bounded by their books. They know what the ancients said on any matter, but have seldom any practical knowledge of their own. Scaliger, on the contrary, never loses sight of the actual world. This power in him is perhaps a natural gift; nothing more in short, than vigor of understanding. Its habitual direction and employment was an impulse communicated by the father. Intimately connected with this were the pains taken by Julius to impress upon all his children the habit of truthfulness. "We never went before him," says Joseph, "but he bid us ' Never tell a lie.'" In Joseph truth became less a moral habit and a rule of conduct than the very law of his intellect. Its manifestations explain his personal history as well as his books. He found his vocation in philology in the single-eyed endeavor to carry the real and the true into regions in which arbitrary caprice, fancy, tradition, and prejudice, had hitherto passed unquestioned. His straightforward.ness in speaking, both of men and things, brought upon him no little of that personal malignity of which he afterwards became, in such a peculiar way, the object. Here, again, the young man's simple nature assimilated the good, and threw off the unwholesome elements of the nourishment pre

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