Chapter III

_Voyage along the coast of Spain.--Prospect of
Sicily.--Account of an Island thrown up from the bottom
of the sea by a Volcano.--Arrival at Malta.--Quarantine
Regulations._

Though we had been quite alone on the Atlantic, yet as soon as we entered the Mediterranean we found ourselves in company with a large fleet of vessels. We had a fair wind up the strait, and kept along with our companions for two or three days; but as the strait grew wider, and at length expanded into the broad Mediterranean sea, these vessels dispersed towards their several ports of destination. We sailed along the Spanish coast for nearly a week, and found the landscape everywhere picturesque and striking. The shore is high and abrupt at first; farther onward it rises into lofty mountains. Here the scenery became truly grand and sublime. It was mid-winter, and the mountains of Granada were covered with snow. A lofty ridge, called the Sierra Nevada, runs parallel to the shore, and rises to the height of 11,000 feet. At this time it presented a most noble sight--an immense wall of snow, glistening in the bright sunshine and towering up to the clouds.

Winds are commonly regulated by the direction of the shores, especially where the coasts are mountainous. At Cape de Gatt, where the coast makes a sudden bend to the north, a change of wind is always expected by vessels sailing up the Mediterranean; and so it happened with us. The fair breeze from the west, which had hitherto driven us on our course, now shifted to a strong easterly breeze, directly in our teeth. We had also a short chopping sea, peculiar to the Mediterranean, which brings on sea-sickness to one coming from the Atlantic, although the waves of the Mediterranean never rise so high as the Atlantic billows. We beat against the wind some days, till at length it sprung up astern again, when we ran before it till we came in sight of the island of Sicily.

We found the mountains of Sicily, like those of Spain, covered with snow; and considering the bleak wintry prospect which the country offered at the distance from which we viewed it, we never should have guessed that the gardens were full of green trees, bending under the weight of ripe oranges. This however was the fact, as we afterwards discovered. In steering from this quarter towards Malta, we sailed over the spot where a volcanic island suddenly rose up from the bottom of the sea a few years ago; a surprising phenomenon, of which the reader may like to hear a short account.

This part of the Mediterranean is known to abound in subterranean fires. Ætna is always burning; the Lipari islands contain volcanoes, and Vesuvius, with its terrible eruptions, has long been familiar to every reader. This whole region, both land and sea, probably rests on an immense bed of fire. Wherever this fire can get vent, it breaks out; the Lipari islands all present the appearance of having been formed in this manner. On the south coast of Sicily, the inhabitants were surprised one day to behold tremendous flames of fire breaking out of the sea in a spot where the water was known to be very deep. This alarming eruption continued for several days, with dreadful explosions, like the discharges of artillery, and showers of ashes and thick columns of smoke that obscured the light of the sun. When the eruption had partially subsided, a considerably large island was found to have emerged from the bottom of the sea. It continued smoking for many days, and at length several persons had the courage to venture off in small vessels, and land upon it. They found it to consist of black scoriæ, cinders and ashes, the substances which are commonly ejected from volcanoes. Pools of hot water stood here and there in the cavities of the surface; great heaps of dead fishes were scattered about, and the smoke of sulphur was steaming up from the hollows and crevices that abounded in the island. Such was the singular appearance of a spot that rose up from the sea, as it were out of the bowels of the earth. It would have been hazardous for a man to take up his permanent abode on this newly-formed territory, and we do not find that any one had the inclination to make any long stay on the spot. After standing a few months, the new island sunk as suddenly as it rose, and the sea over it appears to be as deep as ever.

The little island of Gozo now came in sight ahead, warning us that we were approaching our port. At day-break we saw the island of Malta, and ran for the western extremity, after which we stood along the northern coast for the harbor of Valette. The island appeared of a moderate height, but I could hardly discern a tree or any marks of cultivation. Watch-towers at regular intervals along the shore, and some rude structures in the interior, were all that appeared to diversify the landscape. As we approached the harbor, we discovered a fleet of small boats putting off to meet us, and we were soon surrounded by them. The men were a wild-looking set, tawny and stout, wearing brown woollen caps that hung down over their shoulders. They rowed standing, instead of sitting, as our boatmen do. The boats were very neatly built, of olivewood, with high and ornamented prows. They were painted of a bright vermilion in the bows, and it is remarkable that Homer describes the ancient Grecian ships as painted in the same manner. A loud clamor and hubbub of voices now rose around us. All the boatmen had some service to offer. One offered a pilot, another offered to tow us into the harbor, which is highly necessary here, on account of the narrowness of the entrance. Others were ready to supply us with fresh provisions, fruit, &c., and others wanted our clothes to wash. Every vessel that arrives is beset in the same manner, and the number of persons who depend for a living upon what they get for these services must be quite large.

As we approached the entrance of the harbor, we came suddenly in sight of the city of Valette, with its castle and fortifications. They stand close to the sea, and burst upon the spectator before he is aware. We were much struck with their noble and commanding appearance--and the bells of the city chiming merrily at the time, the agreeable sensations they inspired were still further heightened. It was a great mortification to us, however, to find that we were to be subjected to a quarantine of more than a week. For this purpose our vessel was taken into that part of the harbor adjoining the lazaretto, where we were brought to anchor, and treated with a prospect of the shore close at hand without the privilege of setting foot upon it for a week to come.

The quarantine regulations are very troublesome in almost all parts of the Mediterranean. The people in this quarter are always afraid of contagious diseases, particularly the plague, which in former days committed terrible ravages. The quarantine on vessels from the Levant, or the eastern part of the Mediterranean, sometimes lasts for forty days. This restriction, when applied to ships from the United States, is very useless and absurd; yet it is rigidly enforced, for these people have heard that a contagious disease, called the yellow fever, sometimes prevails in America, and as they have little knowledge of geography, they make hardly any distinction between one portion of the western continent and another. The quarantine therefore is laid upon all vessels from America.

We found ourselves in company with fifteen or twenty other vessels performing quarantine, English, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Austrian and Greek. There was an Austrian brig, loaded with beans from Alexandria in Egypt. She had forty days quarantine, and as the weather was rainy and the vessel’s deck leaked, the captain was afraid his cargo would sprout and shoot up into a forest of bean-stalks before he could get it on shore.

It was now the first of February, a season when, by our recollection, the country at home must be covered with snow; yet here we found the fields green, the air soft, and the trees in full foliage. The oranges were just ripening, and the Maltese boatman brought them to us on board for four cents a dozen. The Malta oranges are famed for being the finest in the world, and I must admit that they are worthy of their reputation. The oranges we get in Boston are gathered before they are quite ripe, that they may keep the better; but an orange in full ripeness, fresh plucked from the tree, as far surpasses the imported fruit, as a ripe apple does a green one. We had, besides, dried figs strung upon reeds, somewhat in the manner in which we prepare dried apples. Here I saw for the first time the pomegranate, a fruit larger than an orange, full of little sweet kernels. So we contented ourselves with eating fresh fruit and wishing the quarantine at an end.

(_To be continued._)

The New Custom-House, Boston.

Between Long and Central wharves, in Boston, a large edifice is now in progress, called the New Custom-House. A picture of it as it will be when finished, engraved by Mr. Devereux, whose office you will find at No. 47 Court street, is given on the opposite page. The building is of granite, and already it may be seen that it is to be one of the finest structures in the city. The lofty fluted columns have already an imposing effect. They are thirty-two feet in length, and weighed forty-three tons each--they were obtained in one of the quarries at Quincy. It required forty or fifty yoke of oxen to bring one of these enormous pillars to the city.

This Custom-House is constructed by the government of the United States. I suppose most of my readers know the use of a custom-house; but for the benefit of those who do not, I will explain its object. It is a place where the customs, or duties, laid on goods brought into port by ships from foreign countries, are paid and received.

The course of the business is this. When a vessel from England, or France, or any other place, comes into port, a person from the custom-house, called a boarding officer, goes into her, and receives from the captain the ship’s papers. These consist of--1. The _Manifest_, which is a paper setting forth the cargo, and signed by the master of the vessel. 2. The _Register_, which is a paper signed by an officer of the treasury at Washington, and countersigned by the collector of the port where she belongs--giving a description of the vessel, with her name, her size, who her owners are, and where she was built. 3. The _Roll of Equipage_, which contains the names of the ship’s company, that is, the captain, mate, and hands; and, 4. _A list of the passengers._

These papers are taken by the boarding officer to the collector of the port, and the captain is required to enter his ship at the custom-house within twenty-four hours after his arrival. Then, if all the papers are right, the goods brought in the vessel may be entered at the custom-house by the several persons to whom they belong. These persons must make oath that the invoices are correct, pay the duty or tax on the goods, and then take them away.

There are public stores attached to the custom-house, to which goods may be sent, if the master applies for the privilege, or if they are not called for in five days. During the unlading of a vessel, an officer of the custom-house, called a tidewaiter, remains on board, and takes an account of the cargo, so as to see that it corresponds with the manifest and the entries made by the owners.

The great object of all this is to get money to support the government with. The tax on some goods is twenty-five per cent., and on some it is thirty per cent., and on some there is no tax. The amount of goods received at the Boston custom-house is immense. You may judge of this by considering that several millions of dollars are taken there every year. About eighty persons are employed at the custom-house in Boston. The superintendent of the whole business is called the Collector. The old custom-house of Boston, now used, is inconvenient; the new one will be much larger and better.

There is a new custom-house at New York, which is a very different edifice from this at Boston; it is also much larger, for the business done there is more than four times as great as that done at the Boston custom-house. There are many other custom-houses in this country, as at Philadelphia, Baltimore, and other places where ships come. From all these, the government of the United States receives about twenty millions of dollars every year. With this money, and what they get from the sale of public lands and other sources, they pay the expenses of the government, which are very great. The army costs a great deal of money, and so does the navy. I suppose one ship of war will cost half a million of dollars a year while in active service! Then the President receives 25,000 dollars a year, and each of the foreign ministers has 9,000 a year, and the officers of the custom-houses, members of Congress, and ten thousand postmasters, and a great many other persons, in the service of the government, must all be paid. So you will see that if the government receives a great deal of money, it has need of a great deal. The average expense of our government is 25,000,000 of dollars, which is about six hundred and fifty tons of silver, and would be as much as four hundred horses could draw!

The New Patent Office, Washington

The building of which we here give a representation, is a depository for the models of such inventions as are patented in the United States. The old patent office was burnt down a few years ago, and this has just been erected. It is a handsome and extensive edifice, and well adapted to the purpose for which it is designed.

The contents of this building display in an eminent degree the inventive and ingenious character of our countrymen, and especially of the New England people, for a large proportion of the models here collected are furnished by New England men. There are machines here for almost every purpose under the sun. There are ploughs, and harrows, and coffee-mills, and saws, and water-wheels, and rakes, and corn-shellers, and stump-removers, and a multitude of other things, all arranged according to their kinds. In one part are agricultural implements; in another, are machines for the manufacture of cotton; in another, those for the manufacture of wool, &c. The number of these inventions amounts to many hundreds, and some of them display admirable skill and contrivance on the part of the inventors.

Perhaps some of my readers hardly know why these things are collected in a great building at Washington. I will endeavor to make them understand it. If a man contrives a plough, which is on a new principle, he may send a model of it to the superintendent of the patent office, and he will grant him LETTERS PATENT, which set forth that such a model has been so deposited, according to an act of Congress. This being done, the inventor has the sole right to make and sell said ploughs, and have the profit arising from the same. Thus he has what is called a “_Patent Right_” for the plough he has invented.

The reason why the government grants such patents is this: if a man who invents good and useful things can have the advantage of their sale, he will be encouraged to invent more useful things, and thus society will be benefited.

The utility of some inventions to mankind, is immense. Robert Fulton, of New York, about thirty years ago, invented a steam engine that would propel a steamboat through the water. This led to steam navigation, which is the greatest improvement of modern times. A man in England contrived an engine that would drive a car upon a rail-road track, and thus rail-roads came into use. Eli Whitney, of Connecticut, about forty years ago, contrived a cotton gin, for separating the seed from the cotton, which saved a vast deal of labor, and reduced the price of cotton one half. Thus it is that ingenious inventions improve the condition of mankind. But many of these inventions cost vast labor and expense to perfect them. Fulton spent several years and thousands of dollars before he completed his steamboat. Therefore it is that, in most cases, men could not and would not produce these useful contrivances, if the result of their toil and expense could not be secured to them. Therefore we see that there is good reason for giving them encouragement by granting patents. By means of these patents, good clothes, good food, good houses, good roads, good means of travelling, become cheaper and easier to be got, and, therefore, it benefits everybody to have government promote useful inventions by granting patents.

What sort of Heart have you got?

Most people seem to think only of their external appearance--of their personal beauty, or their dress. If they have a handsome face, or a good figure, or a fine attire, they are perfectly satisfied; nay, more--we often see persons showing vanity and pride merely because they have beautiful garments on, or because they are called pretty or handsome.

Now I am not such a sour old fellow as to despise these things--it is certainly desirable to appear well; but I have remarked that those persons who are vain of outside show, forget that the real character of a person is within the breast, and that it is of vastly greater importance to have a good heart than a handsome person.

The heart within the body is of flesh, but it is the seat of life. Upon its beatings our life depends. Let the heart stop, and death immediately follows. Beside this, the heart is influenced by our feelings. If one is suddenly frightened, it beats more rapidly. Any strong emotion, or passion, or sensation, quickens the action of the heart. It is for these reasons,--because the heart is the seat of life, and because it seems to be the centre or source of our passions and feelings,--that we often call the soul itself, the heart. Thus the heart of flesh is a sort of emblem or image of the soul. When I ask, therefore, what sort of heart you have got? I mean to ask what sort of soul you have got? We often hear it said that such a person has a hard heart, and such a one has a kind or tender heart. In these cases we do not speak of the heart of flesh within, but of the soul. A hard heart, in this sense, is a soul that is severe, harsh, and cruel; a kind and tender heart, is a soul that is regardful of the feelings of others, and desirous of promoting the peace and happiness of others.

You will see, therefore, that it is very important for every individual to assure himself that he has a good heart. The reasons why it is important, I will endeavor to place before you.

In the first place, “God looketh on the heart.” He does not regard our dress, or our complexion, or our features. These do not form our character; they have nothing to do with making us good or bad. If God looks into the breast and finds a good heart there, a tender, kind soul, full of love toward Him and all mankind--a heart that is constantly exercised by feelings of piety and benevolence, he approves of it, and he loves it. God does not care what sort of garment covers such a heart, or what complexion or features a person with such a heart has got. He looketh on the heart, and finding that good, he bestows his blessing, which is worth more than all the wealth of this wide world. Personal appearance is of no value in the sight of God. It is only because _men_ value it, that it is to be regarded. But upon the character of the heart, the favor or displeasure of God depends. It is of the greatest importance, therefore, for each person to see what kind of heart he has got. If he loves to do mischief; if he loves to say or do harsh and unkind things; if he loves to wound the feelings of others; if he loves to see another suffer; if he wishes, in any way, to injure another in his mind, body, or estate, then he has a bad heart; and God looks on that bad heart as we look upon a malignant and wicked countenance. Before God, every heart has a character. We cannot see into the bosom, but God can. All things are transparent to Him, and he looketh on the heart as we do upon one another’s faces. And to Him, every heart is as distinctly marked as men’s countenances are to us. A wolf has a severe, harsh, and cruel expression in his countenance. A bad heart has as distinct an expression in the sight of God, as the wolf’s face to human eyes. God cannot love, and he will not bless such a heart. He only bestows his love and his blessing on a good heart.

The second reason for having a good heart is, that it not only wins the favor of God, but of men. However we may fancy that mankind think only of outside appearance, they do in fact think more of internal goodness. Mankind, in all ages and countries, love, respect, and revere the person who has a good heart; the person whose soul is habitually exercised by piety toward God and love toward mankind, is always esteemed and loved in return. Such a person is almost sure to be happy; even if he is destitute of money, he has that which in this world is of more value--the good will, the sympathy, the kind wishes and kind offers of his fellow-men. If a person wishes success in life, therefore, there is no turnpike road to it like a good heart. A man who seeks to _extort_, to _require_, to _command_ the good will of the world, will miss his object. A proud person, who would force men to admire him, is resisted; he is looked upon as a kind of robber, who demands what is not his own, and he is usually as much hated as the person who meets you on a by-road at night, and, holding a pistol in your face, demands your purse. The proud person--the person who demands your respect, and tries to force you into good will toward him--turns your feelings against him; but the gentle, the humble, and the kind-hearted, appeal to the breast with a power we cannot resist. The person, therefore, of real power, is the person with a good heart. He wields a sceptre which men would not resist if they could, and could not if they would.

The third reason for having a good heart is, that while the exercise of a bad heart is painful, the exercise of a good heart is blissful. A heart that indulges in envy, malice, anger, revenge, jealousy, covetousness, becomes unhappy and miserable; a heart that exercises piety, love, charity, candor, peace, kindness, gentleness, becomes happy. The exercise of piety and good feelings brings pleasure and enjoyment to the soul, as cool, fresh water does to a thirsty lip; bad feelings bring pain and misery to the soul, as bitter and poisoned water does to the palate and the stomach. A person, therefore, who indulges in bad feelings, is as unwise as one who refuses pure water and drinks poison.

The fourth reason for having a good heart is, that it is the surest way to be handsome! A person with a good heart is almost always good-looking; and for this reason, that the soul shines through the countenance. If the heart is angry, the face is a tell-tale, and shows it. If the heart is exercised with piety, the countenance declares it. Thus the habits of the soul become written on the countenance; what we call the expression of the face is only the story which the face tells about the feelings of the heart. If the heart is habitually exercised by malice, then a malicious expression becomes habitually stamped upon the face. The expression of the countenance is a record which sets forth to the world, the habits, the character of the heart.

I know very well that some persons learn to put a false expression upon their faces: Shakspeare speaks of one who can smile and smile and be a villain still. This false veil, designed to hide a bad heart, is, however, generally too thin to answer its purpose. Mankind usually detect the veil of hypocrisy, and as flies see and shun a spider’s web, so mankind generally remark and avoid the hypocrite’s veil. They know that the spider--the dastardly betrayer--is behind it, ready to make dupes and victims of those whom he can deceive. The only true way, therefore, to have a good face, a truly and permanently handsome face, is to have a good heart, and thus have a good expression. There can be no genuine and abiding beauty without it. Complexion and features are of little consequence. Those whom the world call handsome, have frequently neither regularity of features nor fineness of complexion. It is that indescribable thing called expression--the pleasant story which the countenance tells of the good heart within, that wins favor.

There are many other good reasons for having a good heart; but I have not room to tell them here. I must say a word, however, as to the means of curing a bad heart and getting a good one.

The first thing is, to find out what a good heart is, and what a bad heart is; and the best way to do this, is carefully to read the account given of Jesus Christ in the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. There are no pages like these, so full of instruction, and that so readily impart their meaning to the soul of the reader. They give us a portrait of our Savior,--and what a portrait! How humble, yet how majestic! how mild, yet how dignified! how simple, yet how beautiful! He is represented as full of love toward God, and toward mankind; as going about doing good; as having a tender and kind feeling for every human being; as healing the sick, giving sight to the blind, and pouring the music of sound upon the deaf ear. Love to God, which teaches us to love all mankind, evidently fills the heart of Jesus Christ; and his great desire seems to be, that all mankind shall have hearts filled with the same feeling that governs his. A good heart, then, is one like Christ’s; a bad heart is one that is unlike Christ’s. A good heart is one that is habitually exercised by love to God and charity to man; a bad heart is one that is exercised by selfishness, covetousness, anger, revenge, greediness, envy, suspicion, or malice.

Having learned what is meant by a good and bad heart, the next thing is to look into our own breasts and see what kind of a heart we have got. This is of first-rate importance, and therefore it is that I ask the question at the head of this article--“_What sort of heart have you got, Reader?_”

Having, by careful examination, found out what sort of a heart you have got, then you are prepared to act with good effect. If you find that you have a good heart, a heart like Christ’s, filled with love of God and feelings of obedience to God, and with love and charity to all mankind, evinced by a desire to promote the peace and happiness of all; then be thankful for this best of gifts, and pray Heaven that it may continue to be yours. An immortal spirit, with the principle of goodness in it, is yours--and how great a benediction is that!

But if you discover that you have a bad heart, pray set about curing it as soon as possible. An immortal spirit with a principle of badness in it, is surely a thing to be dreaded; and yet this is your condition, if you have a bad heart. In such a case, repentance is the first step for you to take. Sorrow--sincere sorrow, is the easy condition upon which past errors are forgiven by God; yet this condition must be complied with. There is no forgiveness without repentance, because there is no amendment without it. Repentance implies aversion to sin, and it is because the penitent hates sin, that the record of his wrongs is blotted out. While he loves sin, all his crimes, all his transgressions must stand written down and remembered against him, because he says that he likes them; he vindicates, he approves of them. Oh take good care, kind and gentle reader--take good care to blot out the long account of your errors, before God, speedily! Do not, by still loving sin, say to God that you are willing to have those that you have committed, and those you may commit, brought up in judgment against you! Draw black lines around the record of your transgressions, by repentance!

And having thus begun right, continue to go on right. At first, the task may be difficult. To break in a bad heart to habits of goodness, is like breaking a wild colt to the saddle or harness: it resists; it rears up; it kicks; it spurns the bit; it seeks to run free and loose, as nature and impulse dictate, and as it has been wont to do before. But master it once, and teach it to go in the path, and it will soon be its habit, its pleasure, its easy and chosen way to continue in the path.

To aid you in this process of making a good heart out of a bad one, study the Bible, and especially that which records the life and paints the portrait of Christ. Imitate, humbly, but reverently and devoutly, his example. Drink at the fountain at which he drank, the overflowing river of love to God.

This is the way to keep the spark of goodness in the heart; and to cherish this, to keep it bright, exercise yourself as much as possible in good deeds, in good thoughts, in good feelings. If a bad thought comes into your heart, turn him out--he has now no business there! Turn him out as you would a rat from the larder. Keep your hearts pure before God, for God looketh on the heart!

It is my purpose to follow up this subject hereafter, and to tell you some tales which will show you more clearly how to make a good heart out of a bad one.

Professions and Trades.

People live by working for money in order to get food, clothes, houses, and all the other things which they need or would like to have. If they should not work, all the food that has already been produced would soon be eaten up, all the clothes would be worn out, and everything else would decay; so that the inhabitants of towns, and also those of the country, would be starved, and die very miserably.

The necessity for each person’s working at some kind of honest labor, is an obligation laid on us by the Creator; and it is a sin to live in idleness, without a desire to work. We are also far more happy when we are working than when we are idle; and this in itself ought to cause us to follow a course of active industry.

As children are not able to work, they are supported for a number of years by their parents; but when they grow up, they are expected to go and work for themselves. Some young persons are so ignorant, or have such bad dispositions, that they think it would be pleasant for them to live always by their parents’ or others’ working for them, and so remain idle all their days. They do not seem to care how much they take from their fathers or their mothers, who are sometimes so greatly distressed with the conduct of their children, that they die of grief. This is very cruel and sinful conduct on the part of these young persons, which no boy or girl should imitate. It is the duty of all who have health and strength to labor for their own support.

In this large world there is room for all persons to work at some kind of useful employment. Some are strong in body, and are fitted for working in toilsome professions; others are less strong in body, but have active minds, and they are suited for professions in which little bodily labor is required. Thus, every young person chooses the profession for which he is fitted, or which he can conveniently follow. Young persons cannot, in all cases, follow the business they would like; both boys and girls must often do just as their friends advise them, and then trust to their own industry.

As some choose to be of one profession, and some of another, every profession, no matter what it be, has some persons following it as a means of living, and all assisting each other. The tailor makes clothes, the shoemaker makes shoes, the mason builds houses, the cabinet-maker makes furniture, the printer prints books, the butcher kills animals for food, the farmer raises grain from the fields, the miller grinds the grain into flour, and the baker bakes the flour into bread. Although all these persons follow different trades, they still assist each other. The tailor makes clothes for all the others, and gets some of their things in return. The shoemaker makes shoes for all the others, and gets some of their things in return; and, in the same manner, all the rest exchange their articles with each other. The exchange is not made in the articles themselves, for that would not be convenient; it is made by means of money, which is to the same purpose.

Many persons in society are usefully employed in instructing, amusing, or taking care of others. Schoolmasters instruct youth in schools, and tutors and governesses give instruction in private families. Clergymen instruct the people in their religious duties, and endeavor to persuade them to lead a good life. Authors of books, editors of newspapers, musicians, painters of pictures, and others, delight and amuse their fellow-creatures, and keep them from wearying in their hours of leisure.

Unfortunately, some people, both old and young, are lazy or idle, and will not work at regular employments, and others spend improperly the most of the money which they earn. All these fall into a state of wretchedness and poverty. They become poor, and are a burden on society. Other persons are unfortunate in their business, and lose all that they have made, so that they become poor also. Persons who suffer hardships of this kind should be pitied, and treated with kindness by those who are able to help them. Many persons, besides, become poor by old age and infirmity, and it is proper that they should be taken care of and supported. A beggar is a poor person, who does not feel ashamed to seek alms. Any one who is able to labor for a subsistence, should feel ashamed either to beg or to be classed among the poor.

God has taken care that the wants of all persons who labor, and lead a regular life, shall be satisfied. These wants are few in number, and consist chiefly of air, food, water, warmth, and clothing. Some of these we receive freely, but others we receive only by working for them. Some persons are contented if they can work for the bare necessaries of life. If they can get only as much plain food and coarse clothing as will keep them alive, they are contented. If a person cannot, by all his industry, earn more than the bare necessaries of life, it is right to be contented; but if he can easily earn money to buy comfortable food, comfortable clothing, and other means of comfort and rational enjoyment, it is wrong to be contented with the bare necessaries of life.

It is the duty of every one to try to better his condition by skill and industry in any kind of lawful employment. Let him only take care to abstain from indulgence in vicious luxuries. One of the most vicious of luxuries is _spirits_, or liquors, which some people drink to make themselves intoxicated, or drunk. When a person is in this debased condition, his senses and intellect are gone, and he does not know what he is doing. He cannot walk, but staggers or rolls on the ground, and is a horrid spectacle to all who see him. Drunkenness is an odious vice, which leads to great misery and poverty; and the best way to avoid falling into it, is to abstain from tasting or using any spirits or intoxicating liquors.

What is Poetry?

That is not a very easy question to answer, but I will tell you, reader, where you can find some poetry. There is a little book just published by Little & Brown, Boston, and written by J. B. Lowell, which is full of pure and pleasing poetry--full of beautiful thoughts, expressed in musical words, and so artfully managed as to excite deep emotions in the heart. Here is a brief passage which describes one that died in early childhood.

As the airy gossamere,
Floating in the sunlight clear,
Where’er it toucheth, clinging tightly,
Round glossy leaf or stump unsightly,
So from his spirit wandered out
Tendrils spreading all about,
Knitting all things to its thrall
With a perfect love of all.

* * * * *

He did but float a little way
Adown the stream of time,
With dreamy eyes watching the ripples play,
Or listening their fairy chime;
His slender sail
Ne’er felt the gale;
He did but float a little way,
And, putting to the shore
While yet ’twas early day,
Went calmly on his way,
To dwell with us no more!
No jarring did he feel,
No grating on his vessel’s keel;
A strip of silver sand
Mingled the waters with the land
Where he was seen no more.

* * * * *

Full short his journey was; no dust
Of earth unto his sandals clave;
The weary weight that old men must,
He bore not to the grave.
He seemed a cherub who had lost his way
And wandered hither, so his stay
With us was short, and ’twas most meet
That he should be no delver in earth’s clod,
Nor need to pause and cleanse his feet
To stand before his God.

THE RIVER, A SONG.

THE WORDS AND MUSIC COMPOSED FOR MERRY’S MUSEUM.

_Allegro._

1

Oh tell me pretty river,
Whence do thy waters flow?
And whither art thou roam-ing,
So pensive and so slow?

2

“My birthplace was the mountain,
My nurse the April showers;
My cradle was the fountain
O’er-curtained by wild flowers.

3

“One morn I ran away,
A madcap hoyden rill--
And many a prank that day
I played adown the hill.

4

“And then mid meadowy banks
I flirted with the flowers,
That stooped with glowing lips,
To woo me to their bowers.

5

“But these bright scenes are o’er,
And darkly flows my wave--
I hear the ocean’s roar,
And there must be my grave.”

Story of Philip Brusque.

(_Continued from page 79._)