struck by the extraordinary appearance of these great sand-curtains overhanging the beach. He found, along the line of sounds towards Hammerfest, a portion of the rocky coast marked with two lines of erosion or cut terraces at certain heights above the sea, and evidently the work of that element at some remote period when the sea and land stood at different relative levels. Strange to say, it appeared from his barometric measurements that these two lines underwent a gradual rise from Hammerfest southward, until they disappeared at Komagfiord, after an uninterrupted course of twenty-five miles. He nevertheless connected them, after almost as great an interval, with the sandy terraces now described, which are of still higher level, and thus arrived at a hypothesis that the land between Hammerfest and Kaafiord, in rising from the sea, had made a pause, during which the upper line was made; then an angular movement had taken place, causing the southern district to rise farther than the north; then a second pause, during which the lower line was made; after which there had been another unequal soulèvement. I now proposed to review this investigation carefully, and with superior means of ascertaining levels-not, I must confess, without a strong suspicion that there was some fallacy in the case, since all similar marks which I had seen in other countries observed an exact level, as do apparently the two terraces extending so great a way on the coast of Norway to the southward.

Mr Paddison, a young English civil engineer and student of geology, had come in the Prinds Gustaf in search of sport; but hearing of my purpose, he offered to accompany me, and give his professional assistance in taking the levels. He was now, therefore, like myself, a guest of Mr Thomas. We quickly addressed ourselves to the measurement of the Kaafiord terrace, which we found to be at the front about 220 feet high; but the plain at top rose a little towards the hills, and we had ultimately to set down the entire elevation at 239 feet above high water in the bay. Two terraces on the face were 52 and 123 feet, and there was a faint intermediate one at between 80 and 90. We spent a whole day in examining the neighbouring grounds. In many parts free of alluvial facing, or elevated above it, we found the rocks admirably dressed and polished by the ice of ancient times, the line of the dressing being from south to north, or coincident with the direction of the valley. At one place, upwards of 250 feet above the sea, there was a ridge of native rock extending a considerable way, much like the inverted hull of a ship. It had been all nicely smoothed like some artificial object, as had also been the longitudinal hollow space between it and the hills. Still higher, there rested on the mountain-face a horizontal range of blocks and detritus, evidently the remains of an ancient lateral moraine. Of course these dressings must have taken place in an age anterior to that in which the alluvial terraces had been formed, for otherwise the material of the terraces must have been swept away by the descending ice.

A second day was spent in these investigations. What alone lessened our enjoyment of them was the weather becoming now exceedingly warm, and the consequent and excessive annoyance we sustained from mosquitoes. One of our ladies was kind enough to furnish us with veils of green gauze, wherewith we enshrouded our heads as we went about. Still, the pestilent insects got in about our necks and ears, and made us smart so sorely as greatly to discompose our levelling operations. I could scarcely have believed beforehand that so small and weak a fly had the power of penetrating through a thick woollen stocking in order to exercise its suctorial powers; yet we had ample demonstration that it can do

80.

still glowing, though dimly, when a gallant war vessel, with all its sails set to catch the indolent breeze, moved into the confined space, and proceeded to cast anchor. So startling an apparition of artificial life in the midst of such a scene, and at such an hour, might have been at an ordinary time of difficult explanation; but Mr and Mrs Thomas had heard of a French corvette having been at Hammerfest a week or two ago, and of a ball which the officers had given the ladies of that hyperborean town-for what clime is too ungenial for French gallantry ?-so it was quickly understood that this was the same vessel. On this conclusion, it became certain that we should presently have some fresh additions to the social circle at Kaafiord.

Next morning we were to have proceeded at an early hour with Mr Thomas on an excursion to Raipas, a subordinate establishment of the Copper Company on the Alten River, where I expected to see some remarkable objects. We were delayed, however, by the arrival of the Prinds Gustaf on her return voyage from Ham. merfest, with a few ladies of that town on a visit to Mrs Thomas, and also a number of gentlemen, who were permitted to land and spend an hour before the steamer should proceed southward. Sauntering about the shore during this interval, I was introduced by one of the English gentlemen to a person whom he was pleased to entitle the Minister of the North Cape. I beheld a tall, fair-complexioned, somewhat pensive-looking man, of about forty-five, dressed in clothes only partially black, as is the custom of clergymen in Norway. On inquiring strictly who it was I had the honour now to know for the first time, I learned that it was Mr Zetlitz, the pastor of the extreme north parish of Norway, in which the North Cape of course is situated. Being a votary of the Waltonian art, he had come to have a few days' fishing at Kaafiord. I looked with interest on the man whose lot in life it is to keep up the light of Christianity in a region so remote from civilisation, and from all that educated man usually sighs after. Finding him well acquainted with English, I entered into conversation with him regarding his cure. His parish, named Kistrand and Kautokeino, extends over a tract of ground measuring as great a distance from the North Cape southward as there is from Newcastle to Brighton, or from John o' Groat's House to Edinburgh- namely, forty-five Norwegian miles. It contains only 2000 in- | habitants, mostly Laplanders; but the Laplanders, as I afterwards learned, are in great part Christianised, and even in many instances excel the Norwegians in their respect for the services of religion. Mr Zetlitz has two stations for residence-a Lap town called Karajok for winter, and one near the sea, at the other end of the parish, for summer. He has to travel much about at all times. I asked if he used horses for this purpose; he said no-there was but one horse in the whole parish. He travelled by reindeer, which the people, under certain regulations, were bound to furnish to him gratuitously. Meeting with such a man was at first attended with a curious feeling; but this was soon effaced by his gentle and amiable manners: and when I discovered that the North-Cape parson is a lover of the poetry of Byron, which he reads in the original, I ceased to think of him but as one of the people I am accustomed to meet daily. He inherits the poetical temperament, it would appear, from his father, who, likewise a clergyman, was a distinguished writer of verse about the era of the French Revolution, being particularly successful in convivial songs, many of which are still popular in Norway, though this is a style on the decay in that country, as it is with ourselves.

After the steamer had taken its departure, we once more prepared to set out; but presently another impediIn such overgood weather the calm and coolness ment appeared. A boat was seen gracefully moving up of the long evening are much enjoyed. I shall not soon the calm fiord, rowed by ten men, who lifted their oars forget the impression produced upon me, as we sat in a peculiar manner high above the water, while one quietly in the parlour between ten and eleven o'clock gentleman sat in the stern. It was quickly understood to of the second evening, looking along the calm fiord to-be the long-boat of the French corvette, probably bringwards the insular mountains, behind which the sun was ing the captain ashore to call for Mr Thomas. A group

thing certain was known on the subject till lately, when Count Suminski* brought forward observations demonstrating the process of fructification, and its entire harmony with that of other plants.

of us went down to the quay to wait his landing. The boat approached, and a handsomely-dressed naval officer stepped ashore. I felt the striking contrast between his perfect toilet and our mountain garbs. We went back with him to the house, where he was intro- Let us take a spore, or seed, as it is popularly termed, duced to Mrs Thomas, and renewed his acquaintance from the back of the leaf of a fern, where they are found with her Hammerfest visitors. It appeared that his in such profusion, place it in the soil, follow its progress, vessel was the Pourvoyante, of sixteen guns, engaged on and, with the count as our guide, we shall soon arrive at a cruise for the protection of the French fisheries. She a just conception of its development and mode of reprohad been four months from home, and was now return- duction. The spore having germinated, first produces a ing from Iceland to the south. I should have little ex-leaf-like expansion, clinging close to the soil, and derivpected beforehand that there was any common ground ing nourishment from rootlets emerging from its under of social life on which I could have met this foreign surface. This first leaf, or primary frond,' bears no renaval officer; but the contrary soon appeared, for I resemblance to the true leaf of the fern, is very much alike collected the name of his vessel as one which had been in all species of the tribe, and is usually temporary. It in the Firth of Forth two or three years ago, when she is a most important part of the plant, however, for it is had unfortunately run down a smaller French vessel, and on this that anthers and pistils are produced, and ferthus came in a painful manner under public attention tilisation effected through their union. In order to be in Edinburgh. The captain told me that he had been satisfied of this, let the primary froud be examined assiso unfortunate as to be concerned in the affair, hav- duously with a microscope of 300 or 400 lineal powers, ing been commander of the lost vessel. Do not such and there will be found to arise amongst the common recognisances in extraordinary circumstances seem to cells others of a peculiar character: instead of colouring happen rather more frequently than we would naturally matter, these contain granules, which speedily also beexpect? Another curious circumstance was, that he come cells, packed up and pressing against each other had come to this lonely bay at the command of the within the parent cell, like the seeds of a pomegranate French Admiralty, to take up some bulky instruments within the rind. These compound cells have been termed left ten years ago by the Scientific Expedition, landing antheridia, and are analogues of the anthers of flowering for this purpose the day after I had come to test for plants, as we shall speedily see. the first time some of the scientific observations made by a member of that expedition. Moreover, he was now to sail to the Firth of Forth; and the next city in which he would set his foot was that in which I spend my life. We indulged in a penny-a-lining mood of mind regarding these curious coincidences' for a few minutes; and then, finding the Frenchman ignorant of the history of his country for the past two months, I informed him of the destruction of the party of the Mountain, and the flight of M. Ledru Rollin, in conse

quence of the insurrection of the 13th of June. After some further conversation, he politely took his leave of the ladies, and we all proceeded along the flord together, he to his vessel, and we on our way to Raipas.

R. C.

REPRODUCTION OF FERNS. FERNS constitute a numerous and highly-interesting family of plants, found in all parts of the world where there is sufficient moisture and not too rigorous a climate; and although every one must be familiar with their appearance, from the example furnished by our common braken, yet he would form a very imperfect idea of the tribe from such a specimen. Instead of creeping along with an underground stem, pushing up and unfolding its curiously-wrapped-up leaves as it goes, in St Helena, the Philippines, and other places, it arises with a majestic trunk from ten to fifty or sixty feet high, surmounted with an immense tuft of graceful foliage, and even emulates the palm in grandeur and beauty. Several of the order thus command attention by their lofty stature and imposing appearance; some astonish by their curious forms, as the hares'-foot of the Canary Islands; while all please by the delicacy and grace of their lively green leaves.

It is not our intention, however, to make a tour through the family, and take a glance individually at its most remarkable members, but to lay before the reader the recent discoveries in their fructification, hitherto so much a mystery.

Every tyro in botany knows that fertilisation is effected in flowering plants by the shedding of the pollen over the stigma; but in ferns the so-called seed appears on the back of their leaves, without being preceded by pollen or anthers, or any of the usual fertilising apparatus; hence they are ranged under the class Cryptogamia, or hidden fructification. Many attempts were indeed made to detect, and Hedwig, as well as others, imagined they had discovered, anthers, or bodies analogous to them, intermingled with the seed, or adjacent thereto; but no

Besides these antheridia, which are usually pretty numerous, a few other bodies become apparent, consisting each of a cell with a tubular neck, somewhat resembling a Florence flask; at its bottom it contains a single germ-cell or embryo. These bodies have received the appellation of pistillidia, and represent the germs or rudimentary fruit of the more perfect orders of plants.

Having thus made out the parts necessary for fructification, let us pursue the process to its completion, and we have no doubt the contemplation of it will yield both the antheridia, these are found to burst and liberate the instruction and astonishment. Following the progress of secondary cells: each of these is seen to include a longish body, folded up on itself, which is set at liberty by the rupture of its prison walls, and is then shown to be in shape somewhat like a tadpole, with a slight enlargement at the tip of the tail. These have been designated spiral filaments,' and had been noticed by Nageli and others on the primary frond several years ere Suminski demonstrated their nature and use. As soon as the spiral filaments have been let forth by the bursting of the antheridia and secondary cells, they move about with a lively and independent motion through the mucilaginous fluid on the surface of the frond; and entering the open mouths of the bottle-like pistillidia, come in contact with the embryo at its bottom, and effect its fertilisation. Usually several spiral filaments enter one pistillidium, and the dilated extremities of their tails are applied to the embryo or germ-cell, just as we find many particles of pollen shed over the stigma of the higher order of plants in order to insure the setting of the fruit.'

The germ-cell or embryo being thus fertilised, instead of passing into the state of perfect seed, as in flowering plants, commences forthwith to grow; and by the ordinary process of cell-growth, pushing forth roots and leaves, gets gradually developed into the full-grown plant.

In flowering plants it is well known that the cotyledon furnishes the embryo with nourishment in the early stages of its growth, till, by the development of the necessary organs, it is able to support itself. In the fern, the primary frond acts the part of a cotyledon, by supplying nourishment to the fertilised embryo, until, having put forth leaves and roots, it is able to exist on its

own resources.

From what has been here stated of this wonderful process, it is evident that the germ-cells of the pistillidia are the true seeds of the fern; but it is also plain that one of the purposes which seeds serve-namely, the multiplica

* On the History of the Development of Ferns. By Count L. Suminski.

tion of the species-cannot well be effected by them; hence the production of gemmæ or spores on the back of the leaf.

Beauty consents to marry the Beast, and when he changes all at once into a handsome young prince, is the most beautiful thing she ever saw. Oh, may I go?'

Mrs Grant thought for a little, and then said, ' You know I have not been quite pleased with you lately, Phoebe. You have been very idle indeed for two or three days. That piece of work in your hands ought to have been finished long ago, yet here it is not nearly done. You allowed the least thing to distract your attention.' 'Oh, mamma, I will finish this horrid frill to-day, and be so good that you wont know me.'

Her mother smiled, and replied, That is not very

In many plants do we find the production of detachable buds or bulbels, by which propagation or increase may take place: the familiar turncap lily carries a bulbel in every axil of its stem; the begonia and achimenes frequently produce nothing else instead of flowers; yet although the parent plants may be reproduced and increased by these, one never thinks of calling them seeds; no more are the gemmæ of ferns entitled to be ranked as such. The inflorescence of the fern, in fact, seems to stop short in the middle of its course; and instead of 'show-flattering to yourself, my dear child; however, as a little ing flower,' unfolding the parts of fructification, and perfecting its seeds, as other plants usually do, it contents itself with forming flower-buds merely, which, separating from the parent, furnish the means of increase and dissemination. One of these finding a suitable restingplace, expands into the primary frond, bearing anthers and germs, and in this respect is quite analogous to the flower of flowering plants.

The supporters of the alternate-generation theory of Sars and Steenstrup,* would put forth the fern as an instance of this in vegetable life. Starting with the gemma from the back of the leaf, we have the phase A; arising from this we have the primary frond, or phase B; succeeding this are the antheridia and pistillidia, or phase C; the union of these originates the young fern, which, arrived at maturity, is phase D, giving birth to A again, and completing the circle. All these changes, however, are instances of morphological development merely, since true reproduction occurs only once in the series; and the same remark holds good in the pseudo-alternate-generation theory of animal life, as has been recently brought out by the discoveries of Sir J. G. Dalyell, Professor Owen, and others.

The interest of Suminski's discovery of the fructification of ferns, here briefly detailed, is not confined to the elucidation of a curious process in nature: it is a great step gained in the consolidation of our ideas respecting the reproductive process generally, and so far a confirmation of the great physiological axiom-Omnia ex ovo

idleness has been your only fault lately, you shall go and see "Beauty and the Beast," and this very night too; but upon three conditions.' Phoebe gave a little scream of delight, and her mother continued -Your aunt and cousins are going this evening, and I will join them, and take you too, if you do as I wish.'

'Yes, yes, dear, kind, good mamma: tell me what it is I must do?'

It is now twelve o'clock, Phoebe: well, one of my conditions is, that by two this frill shall be finished, and neatly too.'

'Oh, mamma, there is so much of it to do!'

'Not more than you can easily manage if you are busy, Phoebe. Another is, that during these two hours you do not go into the garden, but stay in this room: I know if you leave it, the frill will never be done. The third is, that you do not have a word to say to Luna during that time. Do not interrupt me. I know she will come and scratch at the window, and wag her tail, and intreat you to come and play with her; but keep your eyes upon your work, and she will soon go away. After two o'clock you may play or do what you choose. I am now going to i town upon some business which will occupy me till three o'clock; but remember the frill must be finished by two.'

Phoebe joyfully promised; and a short time after, in mamma left her, and went out. At first all went a brilliantly: Phoebe worked busily-so busily, that she became very warm, and accordingly opened the wind and placed her stool beside it. The air was pleasant ani refreshing, and the mignionette and sweet-peas whic were under the window smelt deliciously, and coole Phoebe's hot brow. Her work fell from her hands, and she began to think how charming it would be to see her favourite fairy tale acted. One thought leads to another. Thinking of Beauty suggested the rose which had s her father so much pain to procure. How much I should like a rose just now! My own little garden, where the best roses grow, is not very far from this; 1 might run to it, and come back again in an instant. But mamma said I was not to play in the garden. True -but then she said it was because she knew I should not work if I were there. Now I am so hot here, and it looks so cool in my honeysuckle-bower, that I am sure! should work a great deal better there. I am quite cer tain if mamma had known I could work better in the garden, she would have told me to go. I can tell her when she returns that I was very hot, and if I had stayed in the house, could not have finished my frill. I know she will not be displeased.'

All these thoughts passed through Phoebe's brain very rapidly; and acting upon the impulse of the memen”, she ran down the steps which led from the windss upon the lawn. She first plucked the rose she covetei, and then proceeded to the bower of honeysuckles, which was her favourite retreat when she was tirel of everything else. How pleasant it is here!' ste thought. How much nicer than being in the hous The sun is so bright, and seems to kiss the little flowers, that nod and say how glad they are to see him. He happy the bees are to feed upon this delicious honeysuckle: I should almost like to be a bee !' and thinking of this, the work fell from Phoebe's idle hands. what a beautiful butterfly!' she exclaimed, as one of a delicate blue colour settled upon a carnation which was near the bower. It is just the kind that Robert wished

so much, and how delighted he would be if I were to get it for him.' With noiseless steps Phoebe went on tiptoe to the carnation: her apron raised in both hands, she stooped to entrap the beautiful creature which was fluttering on the flower. Her heart beating, her eyes glistening, she was just going to encircle it, when something behind pulled her dress. The movement startled the butterfly, which flew off immediately, and Phoebe, disappointed of her prey, turned round to see what had touched her. To her dismay she saw Luna scampering off with the frill, which she had left lying in the bower. Oh Luna, Luna! give me my frill. Oh you naughty dog, lay it down instantly!' But Luna evidently thought his mistress was playing with him as usual, and ran round and round the beds with the frill in his mouth, enjoying the fun of being chased amusingly. Oh naughty, naughty dog, you shall be beaten if you do not give me my frill. But off flew Luna, regardless of the threatening words, which doubtless he knew well would never be fulfilled.

spring which she knew of, and to her great joy saw a quantity of cotton-wool, which her mamma generally kept there. She pulled out a large piece, but in doing so did not perceive that she also pulled with it an earring which was lying there, and which fell unheard on the floor. Phoebe locked the box, put the key back again in the drawer, wrapt her hand in the wool, which she found soothed the pain very much, and carefully took the iron into the garden, where it soon got cold. She had just placed it in the closet, when the carriage drew up to the door, and her mamma stepped out.

Phoebe flew up stairs, and was met in the hall by her mamma, who kissed her affectionately, and asked if the frill was done.

Yes, mamma, quite done,' said Phoebe.

"I am glad of that, darling,' said her kind mamma. 'And did you finish it in two hours?'

In two hours and five minutes exactly.'

Ah, well, five minutes don't matter,' said her mother smiling: it will make no difference. Jane and Laura are quite delighted at the prospect of having you with them to-night. They are to be here at five o'clock precisely; and see here, Phoebe: I have been to your favourite Piver's in Regent Street, and brought you two pairs of gloves, one of which you must wear this evening. I have also got some of that "Rose-thé" scent for you, which you like so much.'

'Oh, thank you, dear mamma,' said Phoebe in a low voice, stretching out her left hand to take the gloves and scent. The right hand was employed in searching for a refractory handkerchief, which was supposed to be at the bottom of her pocket, but somehow never made its appearance. Her mamma's kindness quite staggered Phoebe, and as she followed her up stairs, her eyes were full of tears. The frill, the sight of which made her quite sick, was lying upon the dressing-room table. Mrs Grant took it up, and admired the work.

The gate leading to the road at the end of the garden was open, and the dog darted out, followed by the distracted Phoebe. When she got upon the road, she saw Luna at a little distance rolling over and over with the frill in the mud, and barking with all his might. Phoebe rushed up, and this time succeeded in seizing it. Alas! it was scarcely fit to be touched, being covered with mud. What shall I do?-what shall I do?' thought Phoebe. Oh this comes of going into the garden when I was forbidden ! How disobedient I have been! Oh what shall I do?' Phoebe walked slowly into the house, resolving in her mind what she could do to mend matters. The frill is not torn. Ah, I know what will make it all right,' she cried joyfully, as a happy thought struck her mind: 'I will wash it-not very clean though, for it was dirty before-and iron it, and then no one will be any the wiser. There is always a fire in mamma's dressing - room, where I can heat the iron It is very nicely done indeed, my dear child,' she said: nicely. Phoebe flew into the bedroom, where she care-you see what can be done if you set your mind to it. fully washed the frill, although it took longer than she You have worked this very well indeed. Did you fulfil had expected: she then rushed down to the closet in the my other conditions?' laundry, where she knew the irons were kept, and succeeded in finding a small one. The fire in the dressingroom was excellent, so that the iron did not take very long to heat, although it seemed hours to the impatient Phoebe, who trembled lest any of the servants should come in. The clock struck two as she finished ironing the frill. Phoebe was in despair. How unfortunate I am,' she said; there is two o'clock, and the frill not nearly done! Then she began again to reason within herself, forgetting into how much trouble her reasoning powers had brought her before. Mamma said I was to finish the frill in two hours; now I have only worked at it one hour: since one o'clock I have not put a stitch in. Mamma does not come in till three; if I am busy, I shall be able to finish it by that time, and perhaps she will not ask me when it was done. Thus it will be only two hours after all.'

Phoebe accordingly set to work in right-down earnest, never looking up once till she had come to the end. As the last stitch was put in, the hands of the timepiece pointed to five minutes past three.

Good gracious!' said Phoebe to herself, mamma will be home immediately, and there is the iron still on the grate. I must take it into the garden to get cold before I put it away.' Hastily she seized the iron, forgetting that it must be very hot, although it had not been exactly on the fire. But she threw it down in a moment, and drew back with a scream. 'Oh my handmy poor hand, how it is burnt! Oh, oh, what shall I do? How dreadfully painful it is!'

Phoebe knew that cotton-wool was an excellent thing for a burn, but she did not remember where to get any. Looking round the room vaguely, as if she expected to see some of the wished-for article lying near, she espied her mamma's jewel-box upon the toilet-table. Ah, I know there will be some there, and the key is always in that little drawer.' To the little drawer she went, took out the key, opened the jewel-box, touched a

At this moment a knock was heard at the door, and one of the servants entered to speak to Mrs Grant on some household matters. Phoebe, rejoicing at the opportunity, was just going to leave the room, when her mother called out to her, Do not go away, dear; I wish to speak to you.'

Phoebe was obliged to remain, and wondered what her mamma could have to say. When young people's consciences are not very clear, there is always something indefinitely awful in being desired to speak with mamma upon anything not specified; and as Phoebe's conscience was far from being calm, she felt rather uneasy. She wandered about the room, sometimes ready to scream with the pain of her hand, which now became almost intolerable. 'How shall I get on my gloves to-night?' she thought: my hand is all in blisters! I cannot deceive mamma any more. I might say that my foot slipped, and that I fell forward with my hand on the ribs of the grate; but I could not say that-it is wrong even to think it. But how shall I tell mamma? Oh dear, oh dear, how wicked I have been!'

The servant at last left the room, and Phoebe stood with her eyes cast down, her lips compressed, waiting to hear what her mamma had to say. At this moment Mrs Grant, who was crossing the room, trampled upon something, and stooped to see what it was.

'How extraordinary!' she said aloud. Why, how can this be?-my earring on the ground, when I distinctly recollect putting it this morning in the secret drawer of my jewel-box! No one knows the spring-except indeed Phoebe. My dear child,' she said, looking round; but the dear child' had sunk upon a couch, exhausted with pain and shame. My darling!' she cried, rushing towards her, how pale you are- how ill you look! Tell your mother what is the matter?' Phoebe silently raised her poor hand, still enveloped in the cotton-wool.

Phoebe! how is this? Ah, I see my poor child has burnt her hand, and has concealed it from her mother

THE LIFE OF NAPOLEON IN A QUARTER OF AN HOUR.

[About ten years ago the following burlesque narrative was per formed as an interlude in a Parisian theatre, by a clever acter in the character of an old soldier of the Empire. It suffers of course by translation, and still more by being only read, while the briskness, abruptness, and slang style of the veteran are unexhibited. It is, nevertheless, worthy of appearing even under the disad vantage of an English dress:-] SILENCE! and you shall hear all about Napoleon—a famous individual, born in Corsica, a little tail of a country, not two doors from the sea, where the natives have a fatiguing habit of assassinating each other, from father to son. His with a little three-cornered hat, and his hands behind his parents put him to the military school-full of talentsthat his eyes were hollow, and his face-saving your preback-imitating already his portrait. He worked so hard sence the colour of nankeen breeches. When the masters of the school saw this, they said, 'There's a youth who has a real taste for the artillery.' Presently, having pushed his way to a very young age, behold him general!-very