not been touched. They came to me-they kissed me, and cried, 'Oh, mamma! ain't you glad papa came?' and then I sank away again. I was ill many days, but I recovered at length, and became strong once more. "I cherish the memory of Fido's kindness and faithfulness, and when I think of him as he once was, I sometimes feel how pleasant it might be to witness the pranks and receive the caresses of another like him. But I cannot forget the terrible drama which ended his life, and while that memory lasts I want not another dog in my household." HOW TO TAKE CARE OF PETS. CANARIES. IN choosing a canary, recollect that the yellow or white-bodied birds are considered the handsomest. The wings, tail, and head should be yellowish-dun. As relates to song, those birds are the most valuable that have not only their own notes, but some of those of the nightingale and the woodlark. Supposing you purchase a canary for its song, do not be entrapped into buying a female instead of a male. The females hardly sing at all. As a general rule, you may know the male bird by his being rather larger and higher in the shanks than the female. Besides all this, the male canary is of a brighter colour than the female, especially round the eye. A really well-trained male canary is not only capable of imitating the notes of other birds, but some have been known actually to pronounce words. Some years ago, talking canaries were exhibited in London. Canaries have young four or five times a year, and they lay from three to five eggs at a time. The birds should be paired about the middle of April, and they should then be put into a very large cage. In the cage you should have two little boxes for the birds to build in; and remember to place in the cage some fine hay, horsehair, cow's hair, and hog's bristles. All this is to form the materials for the nest. The hen sits about thirteen days, and during this time young folks should leave her as quiet as possible, lest she forsake her eggs. There is great danger of her doing so if they are often looked at, or, still worse, touched. A When the birds are hatched, put beside the feedingtrough a little jar, containing some hard-boiled egg, chopped very fine, and a small piece of white bread, steeped in water, and afterwards squeezed nearly dry. At the end of twelve days, the young birds will be fledged. On the thirteenth or fourteenth, they usually begin to pick up food for themselves. paste, made of white bread, bruised rape-seed, and a little yolk of egg and water, is excellent food for the young birds. When they have attained size and strength, they may be fed with the usual fare, which should consist of canary-seed, bruised hemp-seed, chickweed, lettuce, or water-cresses. Never forget to furnish canaries with a daily supply of fresh water for drinking and for bathing. birds are about six weeks old, they should be put into separate cages, and that the bottoms of these cages should be strewed either with well-dried hay or fine moss. And now one last word of advice :Mind the cage or cages containing your canaries is put quite out of the reach of puss. She only follows her instinct in catching and killing birds, but it is your paramount duty to put your pet birds quite out of her reach. The usual length of the canary should be about five inches, of which the tail may measure two and a quarter. The bill should be about five lines in length, strong, sharply-pointed, and inclining to white. The feet, or shanks, as they are technically called, should be eight lines long, and of flesh colour. THE LAWYER OUTDONE. SIGNOR DANDINI was a foreign refugee, living neighbourhood of Leicester Square. We cannot any more precise account of his whereabouts, as the signor's address had always been kept a most profound secret-several of his creditors, in fact, being most anxious to penetrate the mystery. The signor picked up a living by translating documents from foreign languages for different houses in the City. One day a letter arrived, addressed to the signor, at one 1 houses, stating that if he would call on the next ii. ..sday, at two o'clock, at the offices of Messrs. Skinnum and Eatum, solicitors, of Street, they would be happy to arrange with him about a translation which would probably bring him in a pretty considerable sum. The signor was in a dilemma. The pretty considerable sum would be most acceptable, of course; but then he had strong objections to throwing himself in the way of unknown solicitors. However, at the time appointed, a foreign-looking individual presented himself at the office of Messrs. S. and E., and handed in the letter addressed by that highly respectable firm to Signor Dandini. "I have received this letter," said he, with a strong German accent. "Ah, to be sure," said Skinnum, the principal partner, who happened to be present, Signor Dandini ?" The foreign-looking individual bowed, without speaking. "Ah, my dear sir," continued Skinnum, smiling, "the fact is, I am sorry we have been compelled to have recourse to a little stratagem, but not knowing your address, we had no other means of getting at you-I have to serve you with this writ!" The foreign-looking individual did not seem in the least surprised. He answered "Hah, yes, mein dear sir. But we have had recourse to one little stratagem, too. I am not Dandini. I am one friend of his. He was afraid of this-so asked me to come to see about your letter. Good morning, mein dear sir.' The foreign-looking_individual left the office, and Messrs. Skinnum and Eatum confessed they had been "done." THE most difficult department of learning is learning to unlearn. Drawing a mistake or prejudice out of the head is as painful as drawing a tooth, and the patient never thanks the operator. No man likes to admit that his favourite opinion, perhaps the only child of his mind, is an illegitimate one. Sluggish intellects are ever the most obstinate, for that which it has cost us much to acquire, it costs us much to give up; and the older we get the more closely we cling to orrors. in the new galleries of the Louvre. It is placed in the Museum of Sculptures of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, at the south-east angle of the court. The richness and variety of this extraordinary work must be seen to be properly appreciated; our engraving, however, is so faithful a copy, as to convey the most exact idea of the original of which a woodcut is capable. The Palace of Justice at Bruges was built in 1722, on the ruins of the Palace of the Counts of Flanders. The magnificent chimney-piece passed from the ancient to the modern structure. It still ornaments the principal apartment of the palace. Its superficial area exceeds one hundred square yards. Statues of lifesize, some of colossal proportions, caryatides, figurines, medallions, columns, ornaments, cornices, armorial bearings, are all oarved in oak, except the four basreliefs in the frieze, which represent in white marble the story of "Susanna." The chimney-piece was erected in 1529, in honour of Charles V. The figure of this monarch occupies the centre, holding in his hands the globe and sword of state; to the left are Charles, Duke of Burgundy, and Margaret of York. his wife; to the right, Maximilian I., Emperor of Germany, and Mary of Burgundy, Archduchess of Austria. The armorial bearings are those of Spain, Burgundy, Brabant, and Flanders. The artist of this chef-d'œuvre is unknown by any official inscription, but, following ancient authorities, we learn that the name of the artist was André, and that the history of his work abounded with dramatic interest. In 1527, André, a widower, and father of a beautiful little girl, resided at Bruges with an octogenarian aunt, paralysed in body and almost blind. This aunt enjoyed a pension, and was possessed of a considerable fortune; but her nephew was not so well off in this world's goods. André was an artist, and he was a poor man-the terms were almost synonymous then, if not now; but, nevertheless, he was a universal favourite-everybody liked him, and spoke well of him, except a rival artist, Jacques Vander Pitte, who hated him with the bitterest hatred, on account of the superior excellence of André's work. André had to bear the penalty of reputation-to bear the avowed enmity of Jacques Vander Pitte, for had he not committed the unpardonable sin of being cleverer than his rival? Every year contributed to swell the fame of André every year increased the bitter jealousy of Jacques Vander Pitte. One night, when Audré had gone forth to some business, and Marie, his child, and Margaret, his aunt, were waiting for him-for it was Marie's birthday, and there was to be a little feast at home in honour of the event-a knock was heard at the door, and a stranger presented himself. He was flushed with wine, but assumed an air of courtesy, and, when told that André would soon return, said he would wait his coming. How was André-how did the world use him? The old woman, well pleased to relate the success of her nephew, dwelt upon the wonderful works he had achieved, and the praises which had been bestowed upon him- this great man had asked him to his table, that other great man had embraced him before an immense concourse, the Chancellor of Flanders had given him his right hand, the Provost of St Donat had become his patron. Every word she uttered sank like a poisoned barb into the heart of the stranger, who, at last, springing from his seat, cried out, Accept my thanks, good mother, for the news-and this!" He raised a dagger as he spoke, and struck her in the throat, and as, with a half-stifled shriek, she fell, he fled away. This man was Vander Pitte, the sculptor. Almost immediately, André returned: he found his aunt bathed in blood, and his child in vain attempting to bind up the wound. The cries of the poor girl had already alarmed the neighbours, and the little room, fitted out for a feast, was crowded with an anxious group that gathered round the dying woman, and looked suspiciously on the artist. Who had done the deed? The dagger was André's. No one had been seen to enter the house; it was known that the old woman had money, and had willed it all in André's favour. What if André had slain her with his own hand? The suspicion once awakened was strengthened by various circumstances, and by nothing more than by the story of the strange man who, for no apparent object, had committed the brutal act. Not to make a short story long, André was arrested on the charge of murder, he was found guilty, and condemned to death, but the sentence was respited for a year, in order that the sculptor might complete the chimney-piece in the Palace of Justice. The authorities promised him to become the protectors of his child, if the work entrusted to him was faithfully discharged; and every morning he was conducted to the scene of his labour, and permitted to remain there until a fixed hour in the evening. Under these extraordinary circumstances, the chimney-piece at Bruges was completed. The artist, who had only accustomed himself to wood-carving, determined on executing four marble bas-reliefs illustrative of the story of Susanna. In the delineation of that story of false accusation he saw some resemblance to his own; but what Daniel was there to come to judgment and vindicate his innocence ? The work was finished. The critics and connoisseurs assembled, and were not sparing of their praise. But though André heard them (for he sat in the room playing with the golden hair of his child), their praises fell on heedless ears. No; there was nothing but death before him now-nothing but the ebon door that must soon shut him out for ever alike from the praise and censure of man. That night a priest was hastily summoned to a dying man, and received from his lips a confession which he was desired to make known to the judicial authorities. The dying man was Jacques Vander Pitte, and he fully confessed the murder of Andre's THE first rays of the rising sun were gilding the marble palaces and temples of Crotona, when Heros and his dissipated companions, fresh from the winehouse, frightened the silence of the blushing morn by their loud jests and bacchanalian songs. The careful citizen, starting from his slumber, prayed Minerva that his sons might not resemble Heros; the maiden who had gazed upon him with enamoured eyes, vowed a wreath to Juno to incline the libertine to marriage; while the aged augur, employed at that early hour in decorating the temples for the morning sacrifice, scowled after him and prophesied of evil. Reckless alike of censure or esteem, the mad troop bounded on, appearing, in their flowing garments and flowercrowned brows, more like a band of spectres than children of the earth. At length they reached the building where Pythagoras-who, disgusted with the tyranny of Polycrates, had fled from his native Samos-taught that system of philosophy which has rendered his name immortal. Even at that early hour his school was thronged with pupils, who formed a circle round their inspired master, so wrapped in his discourse, so mute and breathless, that they more resembled a group of statuary from the chisel of the divine Praxiteles than an assembly of living men. The subject of his discourse was the then mysterious science of geometry, the knowledge of which he had acquired in his travels through Egypt and Judea, and which, veiled in allegory and symbols, he taught to his more favoured disciples. In the midst of his lecture, the propriety of the assembly was disturbed by the unceremonious entrance of Heros and his companions, who, reckless and eager for sport, thought to confound the philosopher, and turn his doctrines into mirth. Pythagoras received them with undismayed countenance, and, perceiving their design, resolved, by changing the subject of his lecture, to shame them, if possible, from the vice to which they were the slaves. "Drunkenness," he exclaimed, "ye men of Crotona, is alike the grave of manhood and of virtue; the homicide of reason-of that noble faculty which the gods have given to mankind to distinguish them from the creatures of the field; but, alas! how often is their benevolence wronged by its perversion! How often is society outraged by the folly and madness of the wine-cup, and man, the nearest to the gods in wisdom, strength, and beauty, by his own act, by the indulgence of the worst of vices, degraded to the level of the brute ! We see them in our streets, the scoff of childhood, the scorn of the wise, the inferior of the slave. While such men exist in Crotona the altars of Bacchus need no hecatomb; garlanded for the sacrifice, the herd of voluntary beasts are waiting at his temple." The clear voice and dignified manner of the sage gave strength to his words. Heros hung his head in shame, and silently removed the garland from his abashed youth sat, with his face veiled in his robe, listening to the wisdom of Pythagoras with attentive care, and reflecting with bitterness upon the folly of his past life; his name stained with excess, his means impaired; the noble aim, the purpose of his being, defeated and destroyed. The instruction for the morning being ended, one by one the disciples bowed to their master, and left his presence in reverential silence. The sage was at last about to depart, when Heros, falling on his knee, caught him by the gar ment. "What wouldst thou ?" demanded the surprised philosopher. "This house is not a vintner's, nor are those who were its inmates thy companions. The residence of Lais is in the street where stands the hospital; if thou art incapable of reaching it, a porter will convey thee to her doors for hire." "Father," exclaimed the youth, wounded by the severity of his manner, "I adjure such pleasures! I would learn truth-teach me thy wisdom." "It is the wine-cup speaketh," sternly rejoined Pythagoras; "truth is an element too pure for thy vitiated taste. Wisdom to thee! wisdom to a drunkard! as well might you offer Pluto's sacrifice upon the altar of Olympian Jove, and deem the rites accepted! Farewell." "Stay yet one moment," replied the suppliant "Is the folly of youth to render of no effect the resolve of age? Even the gods relent if wooed with penitence: wilt thou be less pitiful? Father!-friend!-reject me not; lead me from ignorance to wisdom-from vice to virtue." The sage, attracted by the apparent sincerity of the youth, gazed upon him for a few moments, as if to read his very soul. "I remember," he at last exclaimed, "during the Trojan war, thou wert shieldbearer to the valiant and royal Agamemnon, and wert slain by an arrow from the walls. Evil and good were mingled in thee; thou art still the same, I find. Dost thou not remember me?-I then was Euphorbus." Heros listened in astonishment, never having heard before the sage's doctrine of the transmigration of the soul. "Thou art strangely surprised, I see," continued Pythagoras. "Alas! for the unrestrained indulgence of thy passions! were thy soul chastened by temperance, thy mind fortified by wisdom, that past, which now appears to thee a page blank and unlettered, would be clear as the bright sun; but now the earthly particles of thy nature prevail, and vice and intemperance obscure it." "Tell me," exclaimed the bewildered youth, "how may I hope to obtain such wondrous knowledge?" his By silence and patience," replied the philosopher. "No words," he continued, laying his finger upon lip; "obey me-await my hour, and depart.' Silent and thoughtful, Heros sought his home; a few hours had changed him. The intoxicating plea sures that hitherto had held his soul in chains, debasing its action, crushing its nobler energies, he determined should be cast off for ever. "The cup, the midnight revel," he exclaimed, "shall be exchanged for wisdom; like an unseemly garb, I cast aside the vices of my youth, and clothe myself anew." Months passed away, and Heros adhered to his resolution. Night found him at his studies, and morning stimulated him but to fresh exertion. Still the expected summons from the sage came not; and, with the impatience of youth, he deemed himself forgotten, or held unworthy of his instruction. The report of his altered mode of life soon spread through the city; but when they heard it, old men shook their heads, and exclaimed, "that he would break out again more furious than the untamed colt." The day of the city festival at last arrived, and Heros once more mingled with his fellow-citizens, it being an occasion on which he could not be absent without dishonour. Instead of the loose, festive garments he had hitherto worn, he appeared in a robe of unbleached wool, carefully girded round his person; while with an ivory staff he guided his steps with decent gravity. On his entrance into the assembly, the old men scoffed at him, and refused him his seat amongst them, exclaiming, "Who is this in the garb of a sage?-the drunkard, Heros !-back, your place is not here!" Instead of resenting this marked insult with the intemperance that had formerly characterised him, he meekly bowed his head, saying, that youth was honoured in the reproof of age. The young men of his own standing, emboldened by the example of their elders, refused to receive him, reviling him as a hypocrite; even the maidens, who had formerly courted his regards, thinking to gratify their parents by a display of modesty, drew their veils closely as he passed them. Heros looked around; no one smiled him; none moved for him. Ashamed, at length, with being the object of the public gaze, he quietly seated himself at the feet of the assembly, with the outcast, the beggar, and the slave. upon Pythagoras, who, with his disciples, had been honoured with a public seat, beheld the conduct of Heros with secret satisfaction, and, advancing in the centre of the assembly, exclaimed aloud, Know, O ye men of Crotona, that humility is the first step to wisdom;" and, giving his hand to the overwhelmed but delighted youth, he led him to a seat amongst his pupils. The citizens loudly applauded the judgment of the sage, exclaiming,Hail to Pythagoras! honour to the thrice-crowned victor of the Olympic games!" The ceremonies of the day passed on, and Heros had the satisfaction of twice laying the prize of his skill at the feet of his distinguished master. Pythagoras demanded from his disciples a novitiate of five years before he admitted them to a participation of the higher mysteries of his science. The reformed Heros had for as long a period been one of the most zealous of his pupils; the first to await his instruction, the last to depart. As the favoured of the philosopher, the good no longer shunned him; men's tongues were loud in his praise; and he waited impatiently for the hour that was to admit him to a participation of that knowledge his soul thirsted to attain. Returning from the contemplation of the heavenly system, whose many worlds proclaim the existence of an eternal principle, he encountered a party of his former dissolute companions, with Theon at their head. The wine-cup had been drained, and the madness of its strength was manifest in their actions. "What!" exclaimed Theon, scornfully, "virtue and philosophy at this late hour! A convert, friends, a convert! Minerva is deserted, and Venus is now the ascendant star!" "Wilt thou drink?" exclaimed the chief of his tormentors, presenting a cup of wine. "One libation in honour of the insulted god, and thou mayest depart." Heros rejected the insidious offer. "This scorn is well," sneered the vindictive Greeks. "Since you reject the pledge of friendship, receive the effect of hate." And, falling upon him with their weapons, they left him bruised and bleeding upon the earth. The wounds Heros received bore honourable testimony of his virtue, and Pythagoras resolved no "What!" exclaimed Theon, who, with his friends, were assembled at the house of Lais, "Heros received into the order of philosophers!-public honours to him, the patron of debauchery, the promoter of every mischief! I will not do him reverence, nor give place to him in the assembly of the citizens-never. Lais," he continued, addressing the frail but gifted beauty by his side, "he was once thy slave; exert thy spells; out of thy woman's wit invent some plan to change his purpose-to cover him with shame instead of honour, and a hundred golden pieces shall requite the task." Lais accepted the glittering bait; and it was resolved that a last attempt should be made to shake the constancy of the neophyte. Lais was young, and to the beauty of her person added the dangerous fascination of wit and grace. Her pride had been piqued by the desertion of Heros, and she prepared for the attempt with strong desire of success, and confidence in her powers. Let him but gaze upon my form," she replied, "drink the lustre of my eyes, or listen to my passionbreathing lay, and he is my slave for ever." The confederates applauded her resolution, and, as they gazed upon the animated temptress, exulted in the assurance of success. Heros kept the vigil of his initiation in the temple of Minerva, robed in white, and crowned with the acanthus-flower; he knelt before the awful shrine of the goddess, whose statue frowned in stately majesty upon her suppliants. Half the night had passed in solitude and meditation, yet the neophyte still knelt, motionless as the statues around him; the dim light from the perfumed lamps faintly showing the slender marble columns, and gilding, with a silvery tint, their delicately-carved capitals. Before an arch, which led to the secret recesses of the temple, hung a richly-embroidered veil of the prismatic colours, having in its centre a golden triangle. The meditations of Heros were disturbed by the faint tone of a lute, struck by a masterhand so soft and sweet that nought could live between its sound and silence. "Do I dream ?" he exclaimed, "or have my senses indeed become refined to that which is not earthly? Nearer and nearer comes the sound-I am lost in melody!" As he spoke the strain increased in power, and a voice of sweetness accompanied the instrument to the following words : "Drink of my cup-the am'ranth flower, I pluck'd in that eternal bower, Where love ne'er fades and hope ne'er dies. "Drink of my cup-the gift I bring, As the strain concluded, a cloud of rich perfume filled the temple, and a female figure, bearing a golden cup, advanced towards the astonished Heros; a silver veil floated over her form; gems of value hung upon her naked arms and feet. With bewitching grace, she presented to the trembling youth her insidious gift. 66 Immortality!" he exclaimed. "Can it be? Am I deemed worthy the eternal boon? Spirit-goddess! whate'er thou art, in mercy to my bewildered senses, repeat the promise!-tell me!" |