Secondly, from fifty to seventy, thou shalt live like a dog, barking at one, snarling at another; grumbling at this, growling at that; vexing thyself and offending others. And lastly, from seventy to ninety, thou must play the ape, counterfeiting those thy defects of nature, using tricks and toys, and all kinds of foolish and fantastical devices."

Hence it is, that we often see those who come to this age tricking themselves up so sprucely and so neatly, jetting it like young gallants, up and down the streets in gay clothes; visiting this lady, and making love to that; and undertaking I know not what impossibilities, that they may be accounted stout and jolly gentlemen. It is a terrible thing, and not to be endured, that men will, in despite, as it were, of time, which discovers all deceits, and ought to put them out of this their error, apply themselves to run a course contrary to propriety and truth, and with a thousand disgusting antics and trickeries attempt to cozen others, and succeed only in discrediting themselves.

11.

A TALE OF A GENTLEMAN THAT HAD TWO HORSES PAINTED.

THERE was a stranger in Madrid who was particu larly partial to Spanish horses, and being unable to carry to his own country two that he possessed, of the fairest stature and feature that could be found, he entreated two celebrated painters that they would employ their talents upon those noble subjects, each according to his choice; promising, besides the remuneration agreed upon, a certain reward to him that should surpass the other in workmanship. The first painted a pyed horse, so perfectly, that he only failed in that which it was impossible to effect, namely, in giving him life and soul. For, in the rest, (deceiving the sight, because it did little, if at all, differ from the original,) it would on a sudden have blinded any careless eye, and at the first blush, amazed the understanding, there was so little difference between it and a living horse.

The other drew a dapple-gray, (that heaven-resembling colour,) and though it was tolerably drawn, yet did it fall far short of the first production; in some things, however, the ingenious painter went far beyond his rival. Having finished the horse, in the upper ground of the picture he placed admirable landscapes, and other representations of things afar offclouds in the air, streaks in the sky, and fiery colours in the heavens, occasioned by the reflex of the sun-setting beams, &c. &c. In the lower part he graced his work with many fine groves, dainty flowers, green meadows, and craggy rocks; and on one side he placed all the furniture belonging to the horse on a tree, at the foot of which lay a saddle, so costly and curiously wrought, that it were bootless to attempt to describe it.

When our first artist carried the portrait to his employer, that gentleman expressed himself wonderfully well pleased; and having paid the stipulated sum, took a rich ring from his finger, and bestowed it upon the painter, who went away well satisfied.

The other was so fondly conceited, and so vainly transported with the hope of a liberal and frank reward, that he required a price excessive beyond all reason. The gentleman, surprised at the greatness of his demand, addressed him thus: "How is it, my friend, that you require a sum so much greater than I have paid for this, which is a work far superior to yours?"

For the horse, indeed, sir, you speak reasonably," answered the painter, "but the very trees and ruins that are in mine, are worth as much as all the other's work." "It is neither fitting nor necessary,” replied the gentleman, " for me to carry home such a volume of trees; such a bulk of ill-combined buildings, and such a deal of lumber and baggage as is here. Sir, I have many fair and goodly houses in my own country. Besides I have not the same affection for those toys as I have for horses. That which I cannot enjoy except by representation, and that alone, do I desire to carry along with me.'

The painter again ventured to reply. "In so large a piece, a single horse would not shew so well; if for nothing else, at least for the delight of the eye, and the

gracing of the square, it often importeth a painter to add something to the principal subject, that it may be the better qualified, and possess the more delicate lustre. So that this seeming fairer to the sight, you will grant me this, I hope, that it is fit a horse should have his bridle and saddle, together with his trappings, and other things belonging to a complete furniture; especially being so curiously wrought, with so dexterous a hand, and such exquisite art, that if you would give me other such as these, though they were all of gold, I would not take them in exchange for those that you see here drawn.”

The gentleman having now found a string whereupon to play, and having caught hold of that which he most desired, which was the picture he had already paid for, (the other esteeming impertinent, though in its kind very good, and much to be commended ;) and not finding himself so overstocked with money as to part with so much as he required, discreetly said unto him, "I only bargained with you for the horse, and, (for that the work is good and well wrought,) I will, if you be pleased to sell it me, pay you accordingly. As for the furniture, you may keep it to yourself, or bestow it upon those who have a liking to it, I have no need for it." The painter went away discontented and unpaid, in consequence of the excessive rate he had placed upon his picture; and upbraiding himself for having wilfully overlashed his discretion, in deeming that, because he had laboured more upon the work, he should receive the greater reward.

It hath been, and still is, a general custom with men, when reciting what they know, or reporting what they have heard or seen, to colour, paint, or disguise it, so that you shall be totally deceived as to its real features. Every one gives shadowings after his own fancy; one while amplifying, another while moving passion; sometimes disanulling, and sometimes diverting, as the humour takes him. They set the worth upon things as they please to value them, not remembering that they may paint a horse well enough, though they leave him without his caparisons, and report a thing true to the life, and with effect, without commenting upon and distorting it.

NATURAL PHENOMENA.

-

No. 47. THE FOUNTAIN TREE.

OF these trees we have the following account in Glasse's History of the Canary Islands. "There are only three fountains of water in the whole island of Hierro, wherein the fountain tree grows. The great cattle are watered at those fountains, and at a place where the water distils from the leaves of a tree. Many writers have made mention of this famous tree, some in such a manner as to make it appear miraculous ; others again deny the existence of any such tree; among whom is Father Feyjoo, a modern Spanish author, in his Theatro Critico. But he, and those who agree with him in this matter, are as much mistaken as those who would make it appear to be miraculous. This is the only island of all the Canaries which I have not been in; but I have sailed with natives of Hierro, who, when questioned about the existence of this tree, answered in the affirmative. The author of the History of the Discovery and Conquest has given us a particular account of it, which I shall here relate at large.

The district in which this tree stands is called Tigulahe; near to which, and in the cliff or steep rocky ascent that surrounds the whole island, is a narrow gutter or valley, which commences at the sea, and continues to the summit of the cliff, where it joins with a valley, which is terminated by the steep front of a rock. On the top of this rock grows a tree, called in the language of the ancient inhabitants, Garse, the sacred or holy tree,' which for many years has been preserved sound, entire, and fresh. Its leaves constantly distil such a quantity of water as is sufficient to furnish drink to every living creature in Hierro; nature having provided this remedy for the drought of the island. It is situated about a league and a half from the sea. Nobody knows of what species it is, only that it is called Til. It is distinct from other trees, and stands by itself: the circumference of the trunk is about twelve spans, the diameter four, and in

height from the ground to the top of the highest branch forty spans; the circumference of all the branches together is a hundred and twenty feet. The branches are thick and extended; the lowest commence about an ell from the ground. Its fruit resembles the acorn, and tastes something like the kernel of a pine apple, but is softer and more aromatic. The leaves of this tree resemble those of the laurel, but are larger, wider, and more curved; they come forth in a perpetual succession, so that the tree always remaius green. Near to it grows a thorn, which fastens on many of its branches, and interweaves with them, and at a small distance from the garse are some beech trees, bresos, and thorns. On the north sids of the trunk are two large tanks or cisterns, of rough stone, or rather one cistern divided, each half being twenty feet square, and sixteen spans in depth. One of these contains water for the drinking of the inhabitants; and the other that which they use for their cattle, washing, and such like purposes. Every morning, near this part of the island, a cloud or mist rises from the sea, which the S. and E. winds force against the forementioned steep cliff; so that the cloud, having no vent but by the gutter, gradually ascends it, and from thence advances slowly to the extremity of the valley, where it is stopped and checked by the front of the rock which terminates the valley, and then rests upon the thick leaves and wide spreading branches of the tree, from whence it distils in drops during the remainder of the day, until it is at length exhausted, in the same manner that we see water drop from the leaves of trees after a heavy shower of rain. This distillation is not peculiar to the garse or til; for the bresos, which grow near it, likewise drop water; but their leaves being but few and narrow, the quantity is so trifling, that though the natives save some of it, yet they make little or no account of any but what distils from the til; which, together with the water of some fountains, and what is saved in the winter season, is sufficient to serve them and their flocks. This tree yields most water in those years when the Levant or easterly winds have prevailed for a continuance; for, by these winds only the clouds or mists are driven hither from the sea. A per