habit of thinking that every thing in the world goes so that when I say Paradise, or quite happy, or so on, it is always in a certain sense -a comparative sense."

"upon her fine features." Nay, her romantic imagination traveled still farther-gentlemen sometimes come up with ladies to show-rooms, -who could tell? Love at first sight was not I am glad to see you so reasonable-that is altogether a dream. Such things had happened. one sure way to be happy; but you will find.... Myra had read plenty of old, rubbishy novyour crosses at the Hazels. The general is not els when she was a girl. very sweet-tempered; and even dear mild Mrs. Melwyn is not perfect."

"Why, madam, what am I to expect? If I can not bear a few disagreeable things, what do I go there for? Not to be fed, and housed, and paid at other people's expense, just that I may please my own humors all the time. That would be rather an unfair bargain, I think. No: I own there are some things I could not and would not bear for any consideration; but there are a great many others that I can, and I shall, and I will-and do my best, too, to make happy, and be happy; and, in short, I don't feel the least afraid."

"No more you need—you right-spirited creature," said Mrs. Danvers, cordially.

Such were the comfortable thoughts she kept to herself; but it was, as I said, one endless complaining externally.

Catherine insisted upon being allowed to advance the money for the necessary clothes, which, to satisfy the delicacy of the one and the pride of the other, she agreed should be repaid by installments as their salaries became due. The sale of their few possessions put a sovereign or so into the pocket of each, and thus the sisters parted; the lovely Myra to Mrs. Fisher's, and Lettice, by railway, to the Hazels. (To be continued.)

ERUPTION OF MOUNT ETNA IN 1669.

overcast, and the weather, notwithstanding

Many were the difficulties, endless the objec-"TOR many days previous the sky had been tions raised by Myra against the proposed plan of going to Mrs. Fisher. Such people's objec- the season, oppressively hot. The thunder and tions and difficulties are indeed endless. In their lightning were incessant, and the eruption was weakness and their selfishness, they like to be at length ushered in by a violent shock of an objects of pity-they take a comfort in bother-earthquake, which leveled most of the houses ing and wearying people with their interminable complaints. Theirs is not the sacred outbreak of the overloaded heart-casting itself upon another heart for support and consolation under suffering that is too strong and too bitter to be endured alone. Sacred call for sympathy and consolation, and rarely made in vain! It is the wearying and futile attempt to cast the burden of sorrow and suffering upon others, instead of seeking their assistance in enduring it one's self. Vain and useless endeavor, and which often bears hard upon the sympathy even of the kindest and truest hearts!

|

The

at Nicolosi. Two great chasms then opened
near that village, from whence ashes were
thrown out in such quantities, that, in a few
weeks, a double hill, called Monte Rosso, 450
feet high, was formed, and the surrounding
country covered to such a depth, that nothing
but the tops of the trees could be seen.
lava ran in a stream fifty feet deep, and four
miles wide, overwhelming in its course fourteen
towns and villages; and had it not separated
before reaching Catania, that city would have
been virtually annihilated as were Herculaneum
and Pompeii. The walls had been purposely
raised to a height of sixty feet, to repel the
danger if possible, but the torrent accumulated
behind them, and poured down in a cascade of
fire upon the town. It still continued to ad-
vance, and, after a course of fifteen miles, ran
into the sea, where it formed a mole 600 yards
long. The walls were neither thrown down
nor fused by contact with the ignited matter,
and have since been discovered by Prince Bis-
cari, when excavating in search of a well known
to have existed in a certain spot, and from the
steps of which the lava may now be seen curling
over like a monstrous billow in the very act of
falling.

Ineffectually did Lettice endeavor to represent matters under a cheerful aspect. Nothing was of any avail. Myra would persist in lamenting, and grieving, and tormenting herself and her sister; bewailing the cruel fate of both-would persist in recapitulating every objection which could be made to the plan, and every evil consequence which could possibly ensue. Not that she had the slightest intention in the world of refusing her share in it, if she would have suffered herself to say so. She rather liked the idea of going to that fashionable modiste, Mrs. Fisher: she had the "ame de dentelle" with which Napoleon reproached poor Josephine. There was something positively delightful to her "The great crater fell in during this erupimagination in the idea of dwelling among rich tion, and a fissure, six feet wide and twelve silks, Brussels laces, ribbons, and feathers; it was miles long, opened in the plain of S. Leo. In to her what woods, and birds, and trees were to the space of six weeks, the habitations of 27,000 ber sister. She fancied herself elegantly dressed, persons were destroyed, a vast extent of the walking about a show-room, filled with all sorts most fertile land rendered desolate for ages, the of beautiful things; herself, perhaps, the most course of rivers changed, and the whole face of beautiful thing in it, and the object of a sort of the district transformed."-Marquis of Orflattering interest, through the melancholy cloud | monde's Autumn in Sicily.

36

VOLCANIC ERUPTION-MOUNT ETNA
IN 1849.

"THE

the heat of the mass, and, in a few minutes after
it had been reached by the lava, bursting intc
flames at the base, and soon prostrate and de-
stroyed. It being Sunday, all the population
had turned out to see what progress the enemy
was making, and prayers and invocations to a
variety of saints were every where heard around.
'Chiamate Sant' Antonio, Signor,' said one
woman eagerly to me, 'per l'amor di Dio, chia-
mate la Santa Maria.' Many females knelt
around, absorbed in their anxiety and devotion,
while the men generally stood in silence gazing
in dismay at the scene before them. Our guide
was a poor fiddler thrown out of employment
by the strict penance enjoined with a view to
avert the impending calamity, dancing and music
being especially forbidden, even had any one
under such circumstances been inclined to in-
dulge in them."

The Marquis of Ormonde was adventurous enough, despite the fate of Empedocles and of Pliny, to ascend in the evening to see the Bocca di Fuoco, which is at an elevation of about 6000 feet.

The sight which met his eyes was, he tells us, and we may well believe it, one of the grandest and most awful it had ever been his fortune to witness:

HE mass extended for a breadth of about 1000 paces, advancing gradually, more or less rapidly according to the nature of the ground over which it moved, but making steady progress. It had formed two branches, one going in a northerly, and the other in a westerly direction. No danger beyond loss of trees or crops was apprehended from the former, but the second was moving in a direct line for the town of Bronte, and to it we confined our attention. The townspeople, on their part, had not been idle. I have before mentioned the clearance which they made of their goods, but precautions had also been taken outside the town, with a view, if possible, to arrest the progress of the lava; and a very massive wall of coarse loose work was in the course of erection across a valley down which the stream must flow. We heard afterward, that the impelling power was spent before the strength of this work was put to the test, but had it failed, Bronte had been lost. It is not easy to convey by words any very accurate idea. The lava appeared to be from thirty to forty feet in depth, and some notion of its aspect and progress may be formed by imagining a hill of loose stones of all sizes, "The evening had completely closed in, and the summit or brow of which is continually falling to the base, and as constantly renewed by it was perfectly dark, so that there was nothing unseen pressure from behind. Down it came in which could in any way injure or weaken the large masses, each leaving behind it a fiery effect. The only thing to which I can compare track, as the red-hot interior was for a moment it is, as far as can be judged from representaor two exposed. The impression most strongly tions of such scenes, the blowing up of some left on my mind was that of its irresistible force. enormous vessel of war, the effect being permaIt did not advance rapidly; there was no diffi- nent instead of momentary only. Directly facing culty in approaching it, as I did, closely, and us was the chasm in the mountain's side from taking out pieces of red-hot stone; the rattling which the lava flowed in a broad stream of of the blocks overhead gave ample notice of liquid fire; masses of it had been forced up on their descent down the inclined face of the each side, forming, as it got comparatively cool, stream, and a few paces to the rear, or aside, black, uneven banks, the whole realizing the The flames ascended to a conwere quite enough to take me quite clear of poetic description of Phlegethon in the most them; but still onward, onward it came, foot by vivid manner. foot it encroached on the ground at its base, siderable height from the abyss, and high above changing the whole face of the country, leaving them the air was constantly filled with large hills where formerly valleys had been, over- fiery masses, projected to a great height, and whelming every work of man that it encountered meeting on their descent a fresh supply, the in its progress, and leaving all behind one black, roar of the flames and crash of the falling blocks rough, and monotonous mass of hard and barren being incessant. Advancing across a valley lava. It had advanced considerably during the which intervened, we ascended another hill, and night. On the previous evening I had measured here commanded a view of the ground on which the distance from the base of the moving hill to many of the ejected stones fell, and, though well the walls of a deserted house which stood, sur-to windward, the small ashes fell thickly around rounded by trees, at about fifty yards off, and, though separated from it by a road, evidently Not exposed to the full power of the stream. a trace of it was now left, and it was difficult to make a guess at where it had been. The owners of the adjacent lands were busied in all directions felling the timber that stood in the line of the advancing fire, but they could not in many instances do it fast enough to save their property from destruction; and it was not a little interesting to watch the effect produced on many a goodly tree, first thoroughly dried by

us.

The light was sufficient, even at the disThe thertance we stood, to enable us to read small print, and to write with the greatest ease. mometer stood at about 40°, but, cold though it was, it was some time before we could resolve to take our last look at this extraordinary sight, and our progress, after we had done so, was retarded by the constant stoppages made by us to watch the beautiful effect of the light, as seen through the Bosco, which we had entered on our return."-Marquis of Ormonde's Autumn in Sicily.

"When we have existed," said that gentleman, "so long as the Greeks did before they produced Homer, the Romans Virgil, the French a Racine and a Voltaire, the from what unfriendly causes it has proceeded that the other countries of Europe, and quarters of the earth, shall not have inscribed any poet of ours on the roll of fame."

English a Shakspeare and a Milton, we shall inquire

The ingenuity of this defense is more apparent than its truth; for although the existence of America, as a separate nation, is comparatively recent, it must not be forgotten that the origin of her people is identical with that of our own. Their language is the same; they have always had advantages in regard of literature precisely similar to those which we now enjoy; they have free trade, and a little more, in all our best standard authors. There is, therefore, no analogy whatever between their condition and that of the other nations with whom the attempt has been made to contrast them. With a literature ready-made, as it were, to their hand, America had never to contend against any difficulties such as they encountered. Beyond the ballads of the Troubadours and Trouveres, France had no stock either of literature or of traditions to begin upon; the language of Rome was foreign to its people; Greece had but the sixteen letters of Cadmus, the literature of England struggled through the rude chaos of Anglo-Saxon, Norman, French, and monkish Latin. If these difficulties in pursuit of knowledge be compared with the advantages of America, we think it must be admitted that the president had the worst of the argument.

iant lights have shone in dark and uncongenial times. Amid the clouds of bigotry and oppression, in the darkest days of tyranny and demoralization, their lustre has been the most brilliant. Under the luxurious tyranny of the empire, Virgil and Horace sang their immortal strains; the profligacy of Louis the Fourteenth produced a Voltaire and a Rosseau; amid the oppression of his country grew and flourished the gigantic intellect of Milton; Ireland, in the darkest times of her gloomy history, gave birth to the imperishable genius of Swift; it was less the liberty of Athens than the tyranny of Philip, which made Demosthenes an orator; and of the times which produced our great dramatists it is scarcely necessary to speak. The proofs, in short, are numberless. Be this, however, as it may, the character of American literature which has fallen under our notice must demonstrate to every intelligent mind, what immense advantages she has derived from those sources which the advocates of her claims would endeavor to repudiate. There is scarcely a page which does not contain evidence how largely she has availed herself of the learning and labors of others.

We do not blame her for this; far from it. We only say that, having reaped the benefit, it is unjust to deny the obligation; and that in discussing her literary pretensions, the plea which has been put forward in her behalf is untenable.-Dublin University Magazine.

MILKING IN AUSTRALIA.

THIS is a very serious operation. First, say

at four velock in the morning, you drive the cows into the stock-yard, where the calves have been penned up all the previous night in a hutch in one corner. Then you have to commence a chase after the first cow, who, with a perversity common to Australian females, expects to be pursued two or three times round But although America enjoys all these advant- the yard, ankle deep in dust or mud, according ages, it can not be denied that her social con- to the season, with loud halloas and a thick stick. dition presents impediments of a formidable This done, she generally proceeds up to the fail, character toward the cultivation of the higher a kind of pillory, and permits her neck to be and more refined branches of literature. Liberty, made fast. The cow safe in the fail, her near equality, and fraternity are not quite so favorable hind leg is stretched out to its full length, and to the cultivation of elegant tastes as might be tied to a convenient post with the universal imagined; where every kind of social rank is cordage of Australia, a piece of green hide. At obliterated, the field of observation, which is the this stage, in ordinary cases, the milking comprovince of fiction, becomes proportionately nar-mences; but it was one of the hobbies of Mr. row; and although human nature must be the Jumsorew, a practice I have never seen followed same under every form of government, the lib- in any other part of the colony, that the cow's erty of a thorough democracy by no means compensates for its vulgarity. It might be supposed that the very obliteration of all grades of rank, and the consequent impossibility of acquiring social distinction, would have a direct tendency to turn the efforts of genius in directions where the acquisition of fame might be supposed to compensate for more substantial rewards; and when men could no longer win their way to a coronet, they would redouble their exertions to obtain the wreath. The history of literature, however, teaches us the reverse: its most brill-(Unpublished.)

tail should be held tight during the operation. This arduous duty I conscientiously performed for some weeks, until it happened one day that a young heifer slipped her head out of an illfastened fail, upset milkman and milkpail, charged the head-stockman, who was unloosing the calves, to the serious damage of a new pair of fustians, and ended, in spite of all my efforts, in clearing the top rail of the stock-yard, leaving me flat and flabbergasted at the foot of the fence. -From "Scenes in the Life of a Bushman.”

38

[From Household Words.]

LIZZIE LEIGH.

IN FOUR CHAPTERS.-CHAPTER I.
HEN Death is present in a household on a

and wistfully, over the dark, gray moors.
did not hear her son's voice, as he spoke to her
from the door, nor his footstep, as he drew
She started when he touched her.
"Mother! come down to us.

nearer.

W contrast between one but Will com

the time as it now is, and the day as it has often
been, gives a poignancy to sorrow-a more ut-
James Leigh
ter blankness to the desolation.
died just as the far-away bells of Rochdale
church were ringing for morning service on
A few minutes before
Christmas Day, 1836.
his death, he opened his already glazing eyes,
and made a sign to his wife, by the faint motion
of his lips, that he had yet something to say.
She stooped close down, and caught the broken
whisper, "I forgive her, Anne! May God for-
give me."

"Oh my love, my dear! only get well, and I will never cease showing my thanks for those words. May God in heaven bless thee for saying them. Thou'rt not so restless, my lad! may be-Oh God!"

For even while she spoke, he died.

They had been two-and-twenty years man and wife; for nineteen of those years their life had been as calm and happy, as the most perfect uprightness on the one side, and the most complete confidence and loving submission on the other, could make it. Milton's famous line might have been framed and hung up as the rule of their married life, for he was truly the interpreter, who stood between God and her; she would have considered herself wicked if she had ever dared even to think him austere, though as certainly as he was an upright man, so surely was he hard, stern, and inflexible. But for three years the moan and the murmur had never been out of her heart; she had rebelled against her husband as against a tyrant, with a hidden, sullen rebellion, which tore up the old landmarks of wifely duty and affection, and poisoned the fountains whence gentlest love and reverence had once been forever springing. But those last blessed words replaced him on his throne in her heart, and called out penitent anguish for all the bitter estrangement of later years. It was this which made her refuse all the entreaties of her sons, that she would see the kind-hearted neighbors, who called on their way from church, to sympathize and condole. No! she would stay with the dead husband that had spoken tenderly at last, if for three years he had kept silence; who knew but what, if she had only been more gentle and less angrily reserved he might have relented earlier-and in time!

She sat rocking herself to and fro by the side of the bed, while the footsteps below went in and out; she had been in sorrow too long to have any violent burst of deep grief now; the furrows were well worn in her cheeks, and the tears flowed quietly, if incessantly, all the day long. But when the winter's night drew on, and the neighbors had gone away to their homes, she stole to the window, and gazed out, long

There's no
Dearest mother, we do

It appeared to require
so want you." The poor lad's voice trembled,
and he began to cry.
an effort on Mrs. Leigh's part to tear herself
away from the window, but with a sigh she
complied with his request.

She her

The two boys (for though Will was nearly twenty-one, she still thought of him as a lad) had done every thing in their power to make the house-place comfortable for her. self, in the old days before her sorrow, had never made a brighter fire or a cleaner hearth, ready for her husband's return home, than now awaited her. The tea-things were all put out, and the kettle was boiling; and the boys had calmed their grief down into a kind of sober cheerfulness. They paid her every attention they could think of, but received little notice on her part; she did not resist-she rather submitted to all their arrangements; but they did not seem to touch her heart.

When tea was ended-it was merely the form of tea that had been gone through-Will moved the things away to the dresser. His mother leant back languidly in her chair.

"Mother, shall Tom read you a chapter? He's a better scholar than I."

"Ay, lad!" said she, almost eagerly. "That's Read me the Prodigal Son. Ay, ay, lad. Thank thee."

it.

Tom found the chapter, and read it in the His mother bent forward, her high-pitched voice which is customary in village-schools. lips parted, her eyes dilated; her whole body instinct with eager attention. Will sat with his head depressed, and hung down. He knew why that chapter had been chosen; and to him it recalled the family's disgrace. When the readBut her face was brighter ing was ended, he still hung down his head in gloomy silence. than it had been before for the day. Her eyes looked dreamy, as if she saw a vision; and by and by she pulled the Bible toward her, and putting her finger underneath each word, began to read them aloud in a low voice to herself; she read again the words of bitter sorrow and deep humiliation; but most of all she paused and brightened over the father's tender reception of the repentant prodigal.

So passed the Christmas evening in the Upclose Farm.

The snow had fallen heavily over the dark waving moorland, before the day of the funeral. The black, storm-laden dome of heaven lay very still and close upon the white earth, as they carried the body forth out of the house which had known his presence so long as its ruling power. Two and two the mourners followed, making a black procession in their winding march over the unbeaten snow, to Milnerow church-now lost in some hollow of the

bleak moors, now slowly climbing the heaving |

"Ay, ay, he'll take it fast enough, I've a ascents. There was no long tarrying after the notion. But I'll not drive a bargain with thee funeral, for many of the neighbors who accom- just now; it would not be right; we'll wait a panied the body to the grave had far to go, and the great white flakes which came slowly down, were the boding forerunners of a heavy storm. One old friend alone accompanied the widow and her sons to their home.