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moved by the tender passion. However, it was not always thus; she at length did fall in love, and with an object worthy of it-the Cacique Yandubaya.

IN 1574, in one of the most picturesque parts of the province of Buenos Though the youngest of the chiefs who Ayres, there lived a young Indian woman, ruled the tribes on the banks of the Rio named Liropeya, famed alike for the de la Plata, he was by far the most disbeauty of her person and the goodness of tinguished. In hunting the nutria, or her disposition. As was to be expected, in following the trail of the white man, she had many suitors, amongst whom he was equally expert. If his face was were several Caciques; but none took not handsome his arm was very strong. her fancy, and at the age of seventeen (an In several skirmishes with the Spaniards age at which most South American he had shown valour which astonished females are not only married, but have them. In one of them he saved the life two or three children!) she was still un-of Liropeya's father; and, by doing so,

gained her affections. Ardent was the away his life-she now wished to save passion which, from that day, she enter- it! "Release this man," she said, "and tained for him. Nor was the fondness let him return to his companions; he (as is often the case) all on one side-it will tell them that we are less sanguinary was mutual. They were to be married than they!" six months afterwards.

Three of those months had elapsed, when hostilities between the Spaniards and Indians were resumed; the commander of the former (the Adelantado Zarate) being worsted, he called to his aid a better general than himself, the Senor Garay. The two, uniting their forces, invaded the Indian territory. It appeared as though deserted; but, all at once, they encountered a large body of Indians, and a sanguinary battle ensued. Amongst the combatants was Yandubaya, who fought with his wonted courage. He was wherever the danger was greatest. Dart after dart he hurled; and in variably with effect. With one blow of his sword he severed the arm of Garay's lieutenant-with another he cut down a bulky Biscayan, the Hercules of the Spanish army, but less active than strong. Unfortunately, at this moment, a ball from an arquebuse struck his right arm, and rendered it powerless. Then, for the first time in his life, he turned his back to the enemy-he fled towards a wood, which he gained, followed, however, by some Spaniards, one of whom overtook him. But, though overtaken, he was not overcome. Turning round sharply, and avoiding a lance thrust, he grasped with his uninjured arm the Spaniard. In a trice they were on the ground, the Indian uppermost ! hand was on his throat-he was about to kill him-when a woman appeared!

his succour.

Her lover obeyed: the Spaniard rose to his feet, uttering exclamations of gratitude.

But he had seen Liropeya! And the sight of her transcendent beauty inspired him with a passion which he determined to gratify at whatever cost. Feigning to retire, he picked up his lance, and transfixed the Indian in the back.

Transfixed, too, was Liropeya, with horror! She stood, motionless as a statue. Soon, however, the Spaniard aroused her from her stupor Falling at her feet, he declared his passion, and besought her to return it. She heard him with loathing, but, dissembling, said,-"Yes, when you have buried, on this very spot, the body of him you so treacherously murdered."

The Spaniard joyfully consented. Drawing his sword, (a broad Toledo), with it he digged a grave, and quickly, for the ground was soft, and his arm was strong. He afterwards put into it the body of Yandubaya. But previously, and as Liropeya had anticipated, he placed his sword upon the ground. She seized it, and, before he had time to stay her hand, plunged it in her bosom! She fell upon the body of her lover!

The historian who relates the incident on which the above is founded, always alludes to Yandubaya as the "Barbaro" His-the "Barbarian." But to us it appears, and doubtless to our readers, that the true "Barbarian" was the European, not the Indian.

It was Liropeya! Anxiety for the safety of her lover had brought her to the field of battle: from the wood she had been a spectator of his prowess. And when she saw him wounded, and pursued by the enemy, she hastened to She arrived (as we have already intimated) when he wanted none: when, on the contrary, his antagonist lay, half strangled, beneath him. Then it was, that, by a strange fatality, she experienced a feeling of compassion for the Spaniard; she had wished to take

DISTILLATION IN AMERICA.-It is esti

mated that the present number of distilleries in the United States is 10,500; the number of gallons of liquors distilled annually, is 41,502,707, which, if sold at 20 cents per gallon, would produce 80,000,000,000,000 of quarrels, half-a-million of assaults and eight hundred suicides, and about one hunbatteries, one hundred thousand thefts, dred murders, and it would be impossible to estimate how many impoverished families, paupers, and madmen.

THE GLORIES OF THE SEA BROUGHT | rocks, and with a hammer and chisel chip off

HOME.

SUMMER and the sea-side. To many thousand dwellers in the islands, summer and the sea-side are so inseparably associated, have so natural a combination, both in anticipation and in converse, that to think of one without the other would be a heresy. How could we possibly go on with out our annual trip to the coast? The year would come to a stop; we could not exist in any plight fit to be looked at, if defrauded of our natural rights to the sea. No, certainly not; could you, dear young lady Never! it is a thing not to be thought of twice with any degree of respectability, so we dismiss the heinous supposition at once. We must have our short summer at the

sea-side. But then, when escaped from the vast city, free from the breathless turmoil, the hard-working gaiety of the London season, the sea-side gained, and all the lazy hours our own to stroll on sand or beach, or ramble among rocks, feeling a freshening life upon our faces, a lightsome sense of leisure in our walks,-then, having gained the freedom coveted so eagerly, how long does our satisfaction last? But brief, we fear, for most of us; the hours of ennui gather day by day as novelty wears off, and weary us with the reiterated question, "what to do next?"

And to those who haply retain their early delight in nature,—

"Who love old Ocean with a child-like love, And joy in all her beauties, all her pride," they, too, have their private discontent, that the weeks pass on, and bring them nearer to the day when this glad pastime must end, and the glories of the sea be left behind.

a few pieces of stone, covered with growing sea-weed. Avoid the common and coarser kinds which cover the surface of the rocks, for they give out under water a slime, which delicate species which fringe the edges of will foul your vase; but choose the more every pool at low-water mark-the pink corralline, the dark purple ragged dulse, monest of all, the delicate green ulva, which the Carrageen moss, and, above all, the comyou will see growing everywhere in wrinkled fan-shaped sheets, as thin as the finest silver paper. The smallest bits of stone are sufflcient, provided the sea-weeds have hold of them, for they have no real roots, but adhere by a small disc, deriving no nourishment from the rock, but only from the water. Take care meanwhile that there be as little as

possible on the stone beside the weed itself. Especially scrape off any small sponges, and tubes of sand among the weed-stems; if they see that no worms have made their twining have, drag them out, for they will surely die, and as surely spoil all, by sulphuretted hydrogen, blackness, and evil smells.

them at the bottom; which last, some say, Put your weeds into your vase, and settle but let the beginner leave it as bare as posshould be covered with a layer of pebbles; sible, for the pebbles only tempt cross-grained annelids to crawl under them and die, and of the vase is bare, you can see a sickly or spoil all by decaying: whereas, if the bottom dead inhabitant at once, and take him out (which you must do) instantly Let your weeds stand quitely in the vase a day or two before you put in any live animals; and even then, do not put any in if the water does not appear perfectly clean; but lift out the weeds and renew the water ere you replace

them.

Yet not all, for we can tell them of a Now for the live stock. In the crannies flower-garden and fairy lake, with minia- of every rock you will find sea anemones, and ture subaqueous forests, gorgeous and fan- a dozen of these only will be enough to contastic, which they may take away to their vert your little vase into the most brilliant inland home, a treasured souvenir of the of living flower-gardens. There they hang wondrous water-world. And as for the ques-upon the other side of the ledges, apparently tioners of "What to do next?" they likewise may find here a fitting answer.

Buy at any glass-shop a cylindrical glass jar, some six inches in width, and ten in height, which will cost you from three to four shillings; wash it clean, and fill it with clear salt water, dipped out of any pool amongst the rocks, only looking first to see that there is no dead fish or other evil matter in the said pool, and that no stream from the land runs into it.

So much for your vase; now to stock it. Go down at low tide to the nearest ledge of

mere rounded lumps of jelly: one is of a dark purple, dotted with green; another, of a rich chocolate; another, of a delicate olive; another, sienna yellow; another, all but white. Take them from their rock; you can do it easily by slipping under them your finger-nail or an ivory paper-knife. Take care to tear the sucking base as little as possible (though a small rent they will darn for themselves in a few days easily enough), and drop them into a basket of wet sea-weed; when you get home drop them into a dish full of water, and leave them for the night, and go to

look at them to-morrow. What a change The dull lumps of jelly have taken root and flowered during the night, and your dish is filled from side to side with a bouquet of chrysanthemums; each has expanded into a hundred-petalled flower-crimson, pink, purple, or orange; touch one, and it shrinks together like a sensitive plant, displaying at the root of the petals a ring of brilliant turquoise beads. That is the commonest of all the sea anemones; you may have him when and where you will; but if you will search those rocks somewhat closer, you will find even more gorgeous species than him. See in that pool some dozen noble ones in full bloom, and quite six inches acrosssome of them. If their cousins, whom we found just now, were like chysanthemums, these are like quilled dahlias. Their arms are stouter and shorter in proportion than those of the last species, but the ir colour is equally brilliant. One is a brilliant bloodred, another, a delicate sea-blue, striped with pink; but most have the disc and the innumerable arms, striped and ringed with various shade of grey and brown. Shall we get them? By all means, if we can. Touch one. Where is he now? Gone! Vanished into air or stone! Not quite. You see that knot of sand and broken sheli lying on the rock where your dahlia was one moment ago. Touch it, and you will find it leathery and elastic. That is all which remains of the live dahlia. Never mind; get your finger into the crack under him, work him gently but firmly out, and take him home, and he will be as happy and as gorgeous as ever to-morrow. Let your actinia stand for a day or two in the dish, and then, picking out the liveliest and handsomest, detach them once more from their hold, drop them into your vase; right them with a bit of stick, so that the sucking base is downwards, and leave them to themselves henceforth.

These two species (Mesembryanthemum and Crassicornis) are quite beautiful enough to give a beginner amusement; but there are two others which are not uncommon, and of such exceeding loveliness, that it is worth while to take a little trouble to get them. The one is Bellis, the sea daisy, of which there is an excellent description and plates in Mr. Gosse's "Rambles in Devon." It is common at Ilfracombe and at Torquay; and indeed everywhere where there are cracks and small holes in limestone or slate rock. In these holes it fixes its base, and expands its delicate brown grey starlike flowers on the surface; but it must be chipped out with hammer and chisel, at the expense of much

dirt and patience; for the moment it is touched, it contracts deep into the rock, and all that is left of the daisy-flower, some two or three inches across, is a blue knot of half the size of a marble. But it will expand again after a day or two of captivity, and well repay all the trouble which it has cost. The other is Dianthus, which you may find adhering to fresh oysters, in any dredger or trawler's skiff, a lengthened mass of olive, pale rose, or snow-white jelly. The rose and the white are the more beautiful; the very maiden-queens of all the beautiful tribe. If you find one, clean the shell on which it grows of everything else (you may leave the oyster inside if you will), and watch it expand under water into a furbelowed flower, furred with innumerable delicate tentacula; and in the centre a mouth of the most brilliant orange; altogether one of the loveliest gems with which it has pleased God to bedeck his lower world.

But you will want more than these anemones, both for your own amusement and for the health of your vase. Microscopic animals will breed, and will also die, and you need for them some such scavengers as our poor friend Squinando. Turn, then, a few stones which lie piled on each other at extreme low-water mark, and five minutes' search will give you the very animal you want, a little crab, of a dingy russet above, and on the underside like smooth porcelain. His back is quite flat, and so are his large angular fringed claws, which, when he folds them up, lie in the same plane with his shell, and fit neatly into its edges. Compact little rogue that he is, made especially for sidling in and out of cracks and crannies, he carries with him such an apparatus of combs and brushes as Isidor or Floris never dreamed of; with which he sweeps out of the sea-water at every moment shoals of minute animalcules, and sucks them into his tiny mouth. Mr. Gosse will tell you more of this marvel in his Aquarium.

Next, your sea-weeds, if they thrive as they ought to do, will sow their minute spores in millions around them; and there, as they vegetate, will form a green film on the inside of the glass, spoiling your pros pect; you may rub it off for yourself, if you will, with a rag fastened to a stick; but if you wish at once to save yourself trouble, and to see how all emergencies in nature are provided for, you will set three or four live shells to do it for you, and to keep your subaqueous lawn close mown.

This last word is no figure of speech. Look among the beds of sea-weed for a few of the bright yellow or green sea-snails, or

conical tops-especially that beautiful pink one spotted with brown, which you are sure to find about shaded rocky ledges at dead low tide, and put them into your aquarium. For the present they will only nibble the green ulvæ, but when the film of young weed begins to form, you will see it mown off every morning, as fast as it grows, in little semicircular sweeps, just as if a fairy's scythe had been at work during the night. And a scythe has been at work-none other than the tongue of the little shell-fish. A description of its extraordinary mechanism (too long to quote here, but which is well worth reading) may be found in "Gosse's Aquarium."

A prawn or two, and a few minute starfish, will make your aquarium complete; though you may add to it endlessly, as one glance at the salt-water tanks of the Zoological Gardens, and the strange and beautiful forms which they contain, will prove to you sufficiently.

You have two more enemies to guard against dust and heat. If the surface of the water becomes clogged with dust, the communication between it and the lifegiving oxygen of the air is cut off; and then your animals are liable to die, for the very same reason that fish die in a pond which is long frozen over, unless a hole be broken in the ice to admit air. You must guard against this by continually stirring the surface (it should be done once a day if possible), and by keeping on a cover. A piece of muslin tied over will do; but a better defence is a plate of glass, raised on wire some half-inch above the edge, so as to admit the air. I am not sure that a sheet of brown paper laid over the vase is not the best of all, because that, by its shade, guards also against the next evil, which is heat. Against that you must guard by putting a curtain of muslin or oiled paper between the vase and the sun, if it be very fierce, or simply (for simple expedients are best) by laying a handkerchief over it till the heat is past. But if you leave your vase in a sunny window long enough to let the water get tepid, all is over with your pets. Half-an-hour's boiling may frustrate the care of weeks. And yet, on the other hand, light you must have, and you can hardly have too much. Some animals certainly prefer shade, and hide in the darkest crannies; and for them, if your aquarium is large enough, you must provide shade, by arranging the bits of stone into piles and caverns. But without light, your sea-weeds will neither thrive nor keep the water sweet. With plenty of light, you will see,

to quote Mr. Gosse once more, "thousands of tiny globules forming on every plant, and even all over the stones where the infant vegetation is beginning to grow; and these globules presently rise in rapid succession to the surface all over the vessel, and this process goes an uninterruptedly as long as the rays of the sun are uninterrupted. Now these globules consist of pure oxygen given out by the plants under the stimulus of light; and to this oxygen the animals in the tank owe their life. The difference between the profusion of oxygen bubbles produced on a sunny day and the paucity of those seen on a dark cloudy day is very marked." Choose, therefore, a south or east window, but draw down the blind, or throw a handkerchief over all, if the heat become fierce. The water should always feel cold to your hand, let the outside temperature be what it may.

Next, you must make up for evaporation by fresh water. A very little will suffice, as often as in summer you find the water in your vase sink below its original level, and prevent the water from getting too salt; for the salts, remember, do not evaporate with the water; and if you left the vase in the sun for a few weeks, it would become a mere brine-pan.

But how will you move your treasures up to town? The simplest plan is an earthen jar. You may buy them with a cover which screws on, with two iron clasps. If you do not find such, a piece of oilskin tied over the mouth is enough. But you do not fill the pan full of water; leave about a quarter of the contents in empty air, which the water may absorb, and so keep itself fresh; and any pieces of stone or oysters which you send up, hang by a string from the mouth, that they may not hurt tender animals by rolling about the bottom. With these simple precautions, anything which you are likely to find will well endure forty-eight hours' travel.

What, if the water fail, after all?

Then Mr. Gosse's artificial sea-water will form a perfect substitute. You may buy the requisite salts (for there are more salts than "salt" in sea-water) from any chemist to whom Mr. Gosse has intrusted his discovery, and, according to his directions, make sea-water for yourself. Mr. Bolton, chemist, of 146, Holborn-bars, London, will furnish the materials.

One more hint before we part. If, after all, you are not going down to the sea-side this year, and have no opportunities of testing the wonders of the shore, you may still study Natural History in your own drawing.

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