Cobe.-(After surveying the regiment of law- CAIRNGORM STONES.-For some years past very yers for some time.) Judge, I told you you did few of those precious stones for which the Cairnnot understand my case; it's a particular sort of a gorm mountains are celebrated have been found. case, and I don't see anybody here that does under-Last week, however, a shepherd from Strathspey stand it; it's a very particular case, judge. Plaintiff. If your honor pleases, I demand judgment against Mr. Jacob Straws. Cobe.-Judgment! Judge, that man knows nothing about my case, you can see from the way he talks. Judgment! What case does he think we're talking about, I wonder? Clerk.-(Reads from the docket.) Henry Mullins versus Jacob Straws. Cobe. (To the clerk.) Versus? who asked for your opinion? Do you speak when you 're spoken to. Judge.-Mr. Straws, I am afraid I will have to enter a judgment against you. Plaintiff's Attorney.-I demand judgment; write it down, clerk. Cobe.-Judge, I'm very dry. Sheriff-Judge, Mr. Straws came right straight from the grocery when I called him. Cobe. Will you swear it? Sheriff.-Yes, I will swear it. Plaintiff's Attorney.-Swear the sheriff, clerk. Cobe.-Judge, you will not allow that man to swear what he pleases against me, will you, when he sees my witness is not here? Judge.-Have you any witness, Mr. Straws? Clerk. No summons has issued from my office. Cobe.-Never mind, Mr. Clerk, I reckon I ain't bound to tell you when I summon my witness. You don't understand my case. You'd better pay the boss for patching your breeches. Billy will be in after dinner. Plaintiff's Attorney.-What will he swear when he comes? Cobe.-Judge, I ain't bound to tell that man what Billy Archer tells me, am I? Judge.-Yes, if he insists on it. Cobe.-Judge, I'm insane; anybody can tell that from the way I'm acting now. It's the way I always act. You won't give judgment against an insane man at the first court, will you? I've tried to make my will and can't. Plaintiff's Attorney.-Judge, can't you see this man has no proof, and no defence to make? Cobe.-Wait till you hear Billy Archer swear, will you? Judge. What will he swear, Mr. Straws? Cobe. He will swear that I'm insane. He has known it a good while. I don't know that that will make it any plainer than it is now. Judge.-Mr. Straws, I must give judgment against you. Cobe.-Judge, let's go and licker. Judge. Sheriff, adjourn the court till 3 o'clock, may be Mr. Straws' witness will be in by that time. The sheriff proclaimed the adjournment. Cobe and the judge were seen to go off arm in arm to the grocery, and his honor was not heard of again till 10 o'clock next day. A TITLE OF ROYALTY.-The Washington Republic calls the King of Musquito-who has made such great pretensions by the help of Great Britain -"Gallinipper the First." produced eight or nine stones found by him during the last three months. The most extraordinary thing about the stones is their large size-some of them being six or eight inches in length, and one of them not less in circumference. They are of unusual purity, and the hues vary from pale gold to dark brown. It is conjectured that the stones were laid bare by the heavy rains of January last. The stones are six-sided, and those which are not broken are shaped to a point, as if cut artificially MY LOVE. BY J. RUSSELL LOWELL. Great feelings hath she of her own, Yet in herself she dwelleth not, Life hath no dim and lowly spot She doeth little kindnesses, Is low esteemed in her eyes. She hath no scorn of common things, Fall from her noiseless as the snow, She is most fair, and thereunto She is a woman: one in whom I love her with a love as still As a broad river's peaceful might, And on its full, deep breast serene, It flows around them and between, And makes them fresh and fair and green, Sweet homes wherein to live and die. From Fraser's Magazine. LEAVES FROM A NATURALIST'S NOTE-BOOK. A BEAVER* arrived in this country in the winter of 1825, very young, being small and woolly, and without the covering of long hair that marks the adult animal. It was the sole survivor of five or six which were shipped at the same time, and it was in a very pitiable condition, lean, and with the coat all clogged with pitch and tar. Good treatment quickly restored it to health; it grew apace, plumped out, and the fur became clean and in good condition. Kindness soon made it familiar. When called by its name "Binny," it generally answered with a little, low, plaintive cry, and came to its owner. The hearth-rug was its favorite haunt in a winter evening, and thereon it would lie stretched out at its length, sometimes on its back, sometimes on its side, and sometimes on its belly, expanding its webbed toes to secure the full action of a comfortable fire on them, but always near its master. hay, cotton-wool, &c., and to make a nest. When he had done this to his satisfaction, he would sit up under the drawers, and comb himself with the nails of his hind feet. In this operation, that which appeared at first to be a malformation was shown to be a beautiful adaptation to the necessities of the animal. The huge webbed hind-feet of the beaver turn in so as to give the appearance of deformity; but if the toes were straight, instead of being incurved, the animal could not use them so readily for the purpose of keeping its fur in order, and cleansing it from dirt and moisture. that the song of birds depends on that which they It has been asserted, and in some degree proved, first hear; but their nest-making seems to be the result of innate instinct. Binny must have been captured too young to have seen any of the buildbut his instinct impelled him to go to work under ing operations of his parents or their co-mates, the most unfavorable circumstances; and he busied between his right fore-leg and his chin, walking Binny generally carried small and light articles on the other three legs; and huge masses, which he could not grasp readily with his teeth, he right fore-paw and his chin. pushed forwards, leaning against them with his He never carried anything on his tail, which he liked to dip in water, but he was not fond of plunging in the whole of his body. If his tail was kept moist he never cared to drink; but if it was kept dry it The building instinct showed itself early. Be- became hot, and the animal appeared distressed, fore it had been a week in its new quarters, as and would drink a great deal. It is not impossisoon as it was let out of its cage, and materials ble that the tail may have the power of absorbing were placed in its way, it immediately went to work. water, like the skin of frogs, though it must be Its strength, even before it was half-owned that the scaly integument which invests grown, was great. It would drag along a large that member has not much of the character which sweeping-brush, or a warming-pan, grasping the generally belongs to absorbing surfaces. handle with its teeth, so that it came over its shoulder, and advancing with the load in an oblique direction, till it arrived at the point where it wished to place it. The long and large materials were always taken first, and two of the longest were generally laid crosswise, with one of the ends of each touching the wall, and the other ends projecting out into the room. The area formed by the crossed brushes and the wall he would fill up with hand-brushes, rush-baskets, books, boots, sticks, clothes, dried turf, or anything portable. As the work grew high he supported himself on his tail, which propped him up admirably; and he would often, after laying on one of his building materials, sit up over against it, appearing to consider his work, or, as the country-people say, "judge it." This pause was sometimes followed by changing the position of the material "judged," and sometimes it was left in its place. After he had piled up his materials in one part of the room, (for he generally chose the same place,) he proceeded to wall up the space between the feet of a chest of drawers which stood at a little distance from it, high enough on its legs to make the bottom a roof for him; using for this purpose dried turf and sticks, which he laid very even, and filling up the interstices with bits of coal, hay, cloth, or any thing he could pick up. This last place he seemed to appropriate for his dwelling; the former work seemed to be intended for a dam. When he had walled up the space between the feet of the chest of drawers, he proceeded to carry in sticks, clothes, *Part of this narrative appeared, by the permission of the author, in The Gardens and Menagerie of the Zoological Society Delineated, 1830. A highly interesting and instructive work. himself as earnestly in constructing a dam, in a room up three pair of stairs in London, as if he had been laying his foundation in a stream or lake in Upper Canada. Bread, and bread and milk and sugar, formed the principal part of Binny's food; but he was very fond of succulent fruits and roots. Tender twigs, especially of the willow, were greatly to his taste, and he would handle them very adroitly, closed on them much as a basket-maker would drawing them through his fore-paws, which he do when trying a twig, though less perfectly of course. An animal so sociable in his habits ought to be affectionate; and very affectionate the beaver is said to be. which were taken alive and brought to a neighDrage mentions two young ones, boring factory in Hudson's Bay, where they throve very fast until one of them was killed accidentally. The survivor instantly felt the loss, began to moan, and abstained from food till it died. Bullock mentioned to the narrator a similar instance Mr. which fell under his notice in North America. A male and female were kept together in a room, where they lived happily till the male was deprived of his partner by death. For a day or two he appeared to be hardly aware of his loss, and brought food and laid it before her; at last, finding that of which was lost. He was very fond of sparkling she did not stir, he covered her body with twigs and leaves, and was in a pining state when Mr. Bullock lost sight of him. With no slight regret the writer adds a third example in the death of his pet. The housekeeper was very fond of Binny, always consulting his comforts and appetite, making his bed warm, and treating him frequently to Sally Lunns and plumcake, till he became the most plump and sleek of beavers; and the attachment was reciprocal. At last, on the writer's departure from London for some time, he thought that Binny, who had grown excessively fat, would be the better for exercise and change of air, and would be more comfortable if sent to pay a visit to the Tower of London and expatiate there. Mr. Cops, the keeper of the lions, kindly undertook to take care of him. He was suffered to go at large, and had every accommodation, but soon began to fall off in his appetite. In vain did his kind host try every delicacy to tempt his guest. With the exception of a few raisins the dejected animal would eat nothing, and fell away visibly. Fearing the worst, and suspecting that it was pining for its home, Mr. Cops brought it back to the housekeeper. The poor beaver immediately recognized her, uttered his little cry, and crept under her chair. But the blow had been struck; he never rallied, but died, as the good old housekeeper declared, with tears in her eyes, of a broken heart. His skin is preserved in the museum of the Bristol Philosophical Society. Poor Binny! He was a most faithful and entertaining creature, and some highly comic scenes occurred between the worthy but slow beaver, and a light and airy macauco that was kept in the same apartment. champagne, and after such a treat, his friskings and playful tricks were beyond description funny. His game of romps with Binny was most ludicrous. Often, while Monsieur Mazurier was seated on his master's instep, the bell was rung for Binny, who entered as rapidly as his shuffling gait would permit him, immediately came close to his master's leg, uttered his little cry, and caressed the leg, after his fashion, by rubbing the side of his head and his nose against it. Presently he would perceive Macky, whom he would awake, and endeavor to seduce him to play by prancing and shuffling before him. Macky, nothing loath, would make a spring on Binny's tail and bound off in an instant. Upon which Binny would shuffle and prance, shake his head, and play wonderful antics. People may talk of the gambols of a rhinoceros, but the gambols of the rodent threw those of the pachyderm into the shade, beating them hollow in uncouthness and absurdity. Macky would bound on Binny's back, dance a kind of saraband upon him, and then leap before him, upon which Binny would charge the dancer with the most determined heavy alacrity. Macky was over his head and skipping on his great, flat, scaly tail in a second. Then Binny would shake his head, wheel round like a ponderous wagon, and by the time he had brought his head where his tail was, Macky had bounded from the tables and chairs on and off him twenty times. Binny at last would slap his tail again and again against the floor till he made all ring, whereupon Macky would dance round him and cut the most extravagant capers, touching Binny's tail with his finger and jumping away as quick as thought. self down thereon; and when the room was entered Macky and Binny were found fast asleep, the former with his head and shoulders pillowed upon Binny's comfortable neck. When Binny died, his master determined to have no more sorrowing for pets, and sent Macky to the Zoological Society's garden in the Regent's Park, where they got him a wife, with whom he lived long and happily. They had evidently a good understanding with The macauco was a white-fronted lemur,* and each other, and were on the best terms. One day was presented to the writer by the late Captain they were left at large in a room together, where Marryat, R. N. From the excessive agility of there was a linen press, the doors of which had this sprightly creature his master named him been left open. Macky climbed the doors, ran"Monsieur Mazurier," to which name, and also sacked the press, pulled out the sheets, tableto that of "Macky," he would answer by a satis-cloths, &c., and threw them down to the beaver, factory grunting noise. His bounds were won- who, having made a most luxurious bed, laid himderful. From a table he would spring twenty or thirty feet to the upper angle of an open door, and then back again to the table or his master's shoulder, light as a fairy. In his leaps, his tail seemed to act as a kind of balancing pole, and the elastic cushions at the end of his fingers enabled him to pitch so lightly that his descent was hardly felt when he bounded on you. He would come round the back of his master's neck and rub his tiny head fondly against his master's face or ear, and, The two beavers which were in that garden after a succession of fondlings and little gruntings, when the writer gave the late lamented Mr. Bendescend to his master's instep, as he sat cross-nett permission to print the account of his domestilegged before the fire, when he would settle him-cated beaver, were sent to the society from Canada self down thereon, wrap his tail around him like by Lord Dalhousie. They were partially deprived a boa, and go to sleep. When in his cage he of sight before their arrival in this country; but generally slept on his perch, rolled up, with his head downwards and his tail comfortably wrapped over all. If a piece of orange was given to him he would lift the fruit to his mouth and throw back his head, so as to secure the juice, not a drop *Lemur albifrons. one of them had the use of one eye; and the other, although totally blind, dived most perseveringly for clay, and applied it to stop up every cranny in their common habitation that could admit "the winter's flaw." They lived some time together, apparently happy and contented. THE following spirit-stirring effusion, breathing the very soul of heroic patriotism, was written by the late Wm. B. O. Peabody, D. D., and appeared originally in the Rockingham Gazette, published at Exeter, N. H., twenty-five years ago.-Boston Journal. THE ALARM. Look there! the beacon's crimson light And sparkles in its towering height And now the warning trumpet peals! The bravest heart that moment feels A thousand windows flash with fires Far down the hollow street rebounds Then answers to the echoing drum With crowded ranks the warriors come, To perish ere the morning beams- The courier in his arrowy flight Gives out the battle cry! And now march on with stern delight; Already many a gallant name Your country's story bears: Go! rival all your fathers' fame, Or earn a death like theirs. From the Churchman THE MOANS OF THE OCEAN. πᾶσαν δ' ἐπλησας φωνᾶς ἅλα.-Moschus. STREAMS that sweep where thousands languish On the mountain, in the glen, Seaward bear each cry of anguish Uttered by the sons of menHence it is that ever ocean Hath so sad, so deep a moanCalm, or lashed in wild commotion Therefore is its dirge-like tone. Moaning for the dead and dying, With its ever voiceful waves, Earth the broken-hearted pillows, YONAH. O spirit mine! How many hearts have mingled, dust with dust, How many dwell in rapture or in woe And each hath felt in turn, as I to-night, Nor found the road of all who turned to pray But now, at last, The Future's radiant beams dispel the Past, And with the lid Of Heaven's mysterious eye is Error hid, While angel voices, I can hear them, hymn A requiem; Error may be the sin and shame of Time, But not the crime May cloud the soul with shadows, but may not Its glory blot May bar external light, to earth akin, But never that within. Hear and forgive, O Lord, the penitent, whose time is nearThe suppliant, who soon shall cease to live, Forgive and hear. My heart recalls its visions from the past, The brilliant hues that streaked the morning skies- The pause, the flight, the sudden ebb, the flow, Rejoicing that whate'er of wrong there be, The soul that passeth now all mortal care; The spirit here released from earth's caress; Thine eyes upon the voyager towards his end, And lift his heart From out the dust of which it bears no part; O Lord, the penitent whose time is near; New Orleans Delta. From the Churchman. SUNDAY EVENING. How calmly sinks the parting sun! And, beautiful as dreams of heaven, Earth sleeps, with all her glorious things, Round yonder rocks the forest trees In shadowy groups recline, Like saints at evening bowed in prayer Around their holy shrine; And through their leaves the night winds blow And yonder western throng of clouds, So calmly move, so softly glow, They seem, to Fancy's eye, The spirit of holy eve Comes through the silent air And the far depths of ether beam Each soul is filled with glorious dreams, And thought is soaring to the shrine And holy aspirations start Like blessed angels from the heart, And bind-for earth's dark ties are riven Our spirits to the gates of heaven. |