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of all ranks and ages; soldiers in fatigue dress-the merchant, the mechanic, and the professional man, with the town garb variously disguised--the Preston, Lawrence Town, and Cole Harbour farmers, in their homespun suits--the Chizetcook Frenchman in his mocassins-the coloured man in his motley garb-and, apart from the rest, a group of Indians, sharing the common feelings and sentiments of our nature, but calm and unruffled amidst the general excitement of the scene.

Water, however, which is one of the great necessaries of
life, may in general be gratuitously procured; but it has
been well observed that if bread, the other great neces-
sary of human life, could be procured on terms equally
cheap and easy, there would be much more reason to fear
that men would become brutes for the want of something
to do, rather than philosophers from the possession of
leisure. And the facts seem to bear out the theory. In
all countries where nature does the most, man does the
least; and where she does but little, there we shall find
the utmost acme of human exertion. Thus, Spain pro-
duces the worst farmers, and Scotland the best gardeners;
the former are the spoilt children of indulgence, the latter
the hardy offspring of endeavour. The copper, coal, and
iron of England, inasmuch as they cost much labour to
dig, and insure a still farther accumulation of it when
dug, have turned out to be richer mines to us than those
of Potosi and Peru. The possessors of the latter have
been impoverished by their treasures, while we have been
constantly enriched by our exertion. Our merchants,
without being aware of it, have been the sole possessors
of the philosopher's stone, for they have anticipated most
of the wealth of Mexico before it arrived in Europe, by
transmuting their iron and their copper into gold.-Lacon.

WAR.

The hill on which the children were found was the last place anybody would have thought of looking for them; and yet when upon it, the reason of their being there seemed sufficiently clear. A smooth platform of rock, clear of underbrush, and looking like a road, approaches the base of the hill, from the direction in which the children probably came. They doubtless ascended in order that they might ascertain where they were; and it is more than likely that when they saw nothing but forest, bog, and wild barren, stretching for miles around them, without a house or clearing in sight, their little hearts sunk within them, and they laid themselves down to refresh for farther efforts, or, it may have been, in utter despair, to cling to each other's bosoms and die. There was one thing which brightened the scene, sad as it was, and seemed to give pleasure even to those who were most affected by it-"in death they were not divided." It was clear that there had been no desertion Voltaire thus expresses himself on the subject of war:-"A hundred thousand mad animals, whose heads -no shrinking, on the part of the elder girl, from the claims of a being even more helpless than herself. If she are covered with hats, advance to kill or to be killed had drawn her sister into the forest, as a companion in by the like number of their fellow mortals covered with the sports of childhood, she had continued by her in turbans. By this strange procedure they want, at best, scenes of trial and adversity that might have appalled to decide whether a tract of land to which none of them the stoutest nature, and broken the bonds of the best-lays any claim shall belong to a certain man whom they cemented friendship. Men, and women too, have been call sultan, or to another whom they call czar, neither of selfish in extremities, but this little girl clung to her whom ever saw or will see the spot so furiously consister with a constancy and fidelity worthy of all praise. tended for; and very few of those creatures who thus From the tracks, it was evident that she had led her by mutually butcher each other ever beheld the animal for the hand, changing sides occasionally as the little one's whom they cut each other's throats! From time imThe bodies have been buried in a rural memorial this has been the way of mankind almost over all the earth. What an excess of madness is this! and and quiet little grave-yard, about two miles from Dartmouth. how deservedly might a Superior Being crush to atoms this earthly ball, the bloody nest of such ridiculous murderers !"

arm was weary.

SCHOOLS IN ATHENS.

It is very gratifying to learn that the educational labours of the worthy Americans, Mr and Mrs Hill, whose schools in Athens have been already alluded to in this Journal, are still carried on in that restored city with undiminished zeal and success. Mr Garston, a late tourist, thus speaks of them. "In company with one or two other Englishmen, I have been admitted into the schools which are under the direction of the Rev. Mr Hill and his lady. The public establishment, in which children are educated without charge, is supported by funds supplied by the American Missionary Society, augmented by the voluntary contributions of European Philhellenes. It affords the means of gratuitous instruction to about five hundred children of the poorer classes. The private establishment is devoted to the education of the children of persons in the higher walks of life who can pay for their instruction, and to that of children who are brought up at the charge of the government. Of these classes there are about one hundred and twenty, nearly two-thirds of whom are resident in the house, under the immediate care of the amiable directress of the institution. The school-rooms of the private establishment exhibited a series of gratifying and beautiful pictures of infantine life. The pupils are for the most part very young girls, distinguished, with few exceptions, by an air of extreme intelligence and vivacity, and in many instances by countenances of singular delicacy and beauty. When we were admitted into the rooms, they were pursuing their studies in classes, and it was evident that their occupations were regarded by them rather as an enjoyment than as a task-a pledge, I should think, of future proficiency on the part of the students. Having observed that several very young damsels had produced drawings of considerable merit, as also that the musical pupils were less numerous, and apparently less advanced in their studies, although under the guidance of an accomplished musician, I was tempted to inquire whether this difference arose from a preference accorded to the former study by the parents, or from a peculiar taste for it on the part of the pupils, and was informed in reply that, among the latter, a decided talent for design is of frequent occurrence, whilst a taste or talent for music is comparatively rare. Mrs Hill numbers among her pupils the daughters of many of the first Greek families of Constantinople, as well as of the most distinguished of Greece Proper. The names of Kriezis, Mavrocordato, Grivas, &c., fall oddly but pleasingly on the ear in this scene of youthful loveliness and simplicity. The impression which remains with the visiter who has the gratification of seeing Mrs Hill in the midst of her flock is, that she possesses that 'jewel beyond all price' to the instructress of youth-the talent of winning the heart, while she forms the mind. Madame Tricoupi, who is well acquainted with such part of the establishment as does not admit of the inspection of a male visiter, speaks of it as perfect throughout, and of its inmates as a happy family, of which Mrs Hill is the centre. The Rev. Mr Hill and his lady have since supplied the schools in Hydra with teachers, and thus may be said to be pouring the blessings of education into Greece through a variety of channels. It is gratifying to know that the youth of Greece, both male and female, display as much ardour as capacity for the acquisition of knowledge."

LABOUR A BLESSING.

AN INSOLVENT'S PLEA.

In the Insolvent Debtor's Court, a few months ago, a person named William Charles Empson came up to be heard on his petition. His schedule contained a statement that appeared to astonish the court. It was-" I attribute my insolvency to an error of judgment of the late Lord Chancellor Eldon." In answer to the inquiries of the court respecting this extraordinary statement, the insolvent entered into a long detail of the particulars of a claim he had on the estate of a bankrupt, which had been the subject of a chancery suit; and Lord Eldon, after much consideration, having still some doubts, directed an issue to the Court of King's Bench, where he obtained a verdict; but the estate being entirely exhausted, he never received any benefit, and having his costs to pay, was utterly ruined by the cause he had gained. The insolvent was declared entitled to his discharge, but was ordered to amend his schedule, that the imputation it contained against Lord Eldon's judgment might not remain on record.-Flowers of Anecdote.

THE QUACK-A HINT FOR JOHN BULL.
A STORY is told of a travelling quack or mountebank, who
exhibited on a stage at Hammersmith, in the reign of
King George I. Having collected an audience, he ad-
dressed them in the following words:-

"Being originally a native of this place, I have, for a
long time, been considering in what manner I can best
show my regard for my brother townsmen; and after
maturely weighing the subject, I am come to a resolu-
tion of making a present of five shillings to every inhabi-
tant of the parish. It will, I own, be a heavy expense,
and I hope no one will attempt to profit from my libe-
rality who is not really and truly a parishioner."

The multitude pressed forward, with open eyes as well as mouths, casting earnest looks on a green velvet bag, of ample dimensions, which hung on the arm of this gene

rous man.

"I know you are not so sordid and so mercenary," continued the orator, "as to value my bounty merely because it would put a few shillings into your pockets; the pleasure I see sparkling in your eyes cannot be produced at the thought of dirty pelf, which to-day is in your hands, and to-morrow may be in the gripe of a miser, a highwayman, or a pawnbroker.

I perceive what it is that delights you: the discovering in one whom you considered as a stranger, the warmest and most disinterested friend you ever had in your lives. Money, my good people, too often tempts the young and the indiscreet to indulge in liquor and other excesses, to the destruction of their health and morals. In order, therefore, to prevent what I meant for benefit being converted into an injury, I freely present to every brother townsman (dipping his hand into the velvet bag) this inestimable packet, which contains a box of pills, a paper of powders, and a plaster which has not its fellow in Europe for violent bruises and green wounds, whether by knife, sword, or pistol; if applied on the patient's going to bed, I pledge my reputation that the ball, if there is one, shall be extracted, and the flesh be as sound as the palm of my hand before morning.

But for those who dislike the pain and smart of such things as plasters and ointment, and who are not fond of trouble, let me recommend the powder: it acts, ladies and gentlemen, by sympathy, and was the joint invenA certain degree of labour and exertion seems to have tion of three of the greatest medical men that ever lived been allotted us by providence as the condition of hu--Galen, Hippocrates, and Paracelsus. If you have a few manity. "In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat thy grains only of this powder in your possession, you may bread." This is a curse which has proved a blessing in without fear rush into the thickest of the battle, and disguise. And those favoured few who, by their rank or defy broad-sword, pike, or bayonet. All I say is, get their riches, are exempted from all exertion, have no wounded, get crippled, get mangled and hacked like a reason to be thankful for the privilege. It was the ob- crimped cod; the longer, the deeper, the more numeservation of this necessity that led the ancients to say rous the cuts are, the better shall I be pleased, the more that the gods sold us every thing, but gave us nothing. decisive is the proof it will afford of the merits of my

powder. Give yourself no sort of uneasiness, only wrap the part affected in a clean white handkerchief, then get to bed and to sleep as soon as you can, desiring, in the meantime, the weapon which did the injury to be well rubbed, nine times, with a small quantity of the powder, and, take my word for it, you may follow your usual occupations the next day.

Of the pills I need say nothing; they have long pronounced their own panegyric, and there are full direc tions sealed up with them; but as you live rather out of the way of the great world, it is but fair to tell you that they procure husbands for single women, and children for those who are married; they are great sweeteners of the blood, and wonderful improvers of the complexion. The selling price for these matchless remedies," said the doctor, has been six shillings for time immemorial; but as I am resolved to stand to my word, and as I do not practise physic for the love of dirty lucre, if you will throw up your handkerchiefs, with the small sum of one shilling tied in each, merely to pay travelling charges and servants' wages, I freely make you a present of the rest of the money, according to my original promise."

66

A small number of the crowd, who were so absurd as to doubt any thing the doctor said, marched off in silence, but the mass were not formed of materials capable of resisting so complicated an attack on their feelings and understandings; the present of a crown to each man at first so confidently promised, had dissipated all fear of imposition, for how could one who acted so much like a gentleman be supposed to want to take them in? His ostentatious harangue had diffused a magic ray over his powder of paste, his rosin, and his jalap; for the passive infatuation of being cheated is not without its plea

sures.

He was proceeding in his address, but a shower of shillings interrupted his harangue, and two hours were fully occupied in easing his brother townsmen of their shillings, and emptying the green velvet bag of the sixshilling packets; while his assistants diverted the anxieties and allayed the impatience of the people by music and tumbling.

Handkerchiefs from all quarters dropped round the cunning knave; inhabitants of Brentford or Kensington, Chelsea, Turnham, or any other green, were permitted to contribute their shillings without any ill-natured questions being asked concerning the place of their residence; the business of the day concluded with general satisfaction; and the artist owned, at an inn in the evening, over a duck and green peas, that the neat profit of his afternoon was five-and-twenty guineas.-Lounger's Commonplace Book.

PRACTICAL MATHEMATICS.

AWARE of the great importance of a study of Mathematics, both Theoretical and Practical, in a regular course of Education, MESSRS CHAMBERS have endeavoured to procure the composition of the best possible treatises on the subject for their EDUCATIONAL COURSE. Aided by Mr A. BELL, formerly mathematical master in Dollar Institution, and one of the most profound mathematicians in Scotland, they have already issued-1st, Euclid's Elements of Plane Geometry (improved), which may be taken as the basis of the science; 2d, Solid and Spherical Geometry;

3d, Algebra, in its Various Branches; and have now published,

4th, A Treatise of Practical Mathematics. This latter work,
which is indispensable to Mechanics, Civil Engineers, Mariners,
and various other professional persons, is in Two Parts, embracing
-Practical Geometry; Trigonometry; Mensuration of Heights,
Distances, Surfaces, and Solids; Barometric Measurement of
Heights; Land Surveying; Gauging; Projectiles; Fortification;
Astronomy; Navigation; and other subjects. Being anxious that
the works should fall within the reach of persons in the humbler
ranks of society, MESSRS CHAMBERS have issued them, like
other books in the series, at an exceedingly small price, consi-
dering their size and the expense incurred in their production.
The following is the list of works now issued in the series of
CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE, all being designed for use
in schools, and neatly and strongly bound in coloured cloth :-
Infant Treatment Under Two Years of Age,
ls. 3d.
Infant Education From Two to Six Years of Age, 28. Od.
First Book of Reading,

Second Book of Reading,
Simple Lessons in Reading,
Rudiments of Knowledge,

Introduction to the Sciences,

The Moral Class-Book,

A Geographical Primer,

Animal Physiology,

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Text-Book of Geography for England,
Introduction to English Composition,

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English Grammar, Part I.,

1s. 6d.

First Book of Drawing,
Second Book of Drawing,

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Rudiments of Zoology,

4s. Od.

28. 3d.

Os. 10d.

Os. 10d.

08. 10d.

28. 6d.

28. 6d.

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Rudiments of Chemistry, by Dr D. B. Reid—a new
and greatly improved edition,
Natural Philosophy, First Book,
Natural Philosophy, Second Book,
Natural Philosophy, Third Book,
Elements of Plane Geometry,
Solid and Spherical Geometry,

Exemplary and Instructive Biography,

28. 9d.

To the foregoing is added a Series of SCHOOL-ROOM MAPS of a very large size-Maps of England, Ireland, Scotland, Europe, Asia, Palestine, North America, South America, Africa, and the Hemispheres, designed by JAMES FAIRBAIRN, Esq., Rector of Bathgate Academy. Each Map measures 5 feet 8 inches in length by 4 feet 10 inches in breadth. Price, coloured on cloth, with rollers, 14s. each; the Hemispheres (including Astronomical Diagrams), 21s.

Published by W. and R. CHAMBERS, 339 High Street, Edinburgh. Agents-W. S. ORR and Co., Amen Corner, London; and

W. CURRY Jun. and Co., Dublin; JOHN MACLEOD, Glasgow ; and sold by all Booksellers. In cases where Teachers find a difficulty in getting supplies from Booksellers, they may apply direct to MESSRS CHAMBERS or their chief Agents, as above.

LONDON: Published, with permission of the proprietors, by W. S. ORR, Paternoster Row.

Printed by Bradbury and Evans, Whitefriars.

DINBURGA

OURNA

CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF “CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE,”

“CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE," &c.

NUMBER 548.

LANGUAGES.

THE least learned are aware that there are many languages in the world, but the actual number is probably far beyond the dreams of ordinary people. The geographer Balbi enumerates eight hundred and sixty which are entitled to be considered as distinct languages, and five thousand which may be regarded as dialects. Adelung, another modern writer on this subject, reckons up 3064 languages and dialects, existing and which have existed. Even after we have allowed either of these as the number of languages, we must acknowledge the existence of almost infinite minor diversities; for, in our own country, we see that every province has a tongue more or less peculiar, and this we may well believe to be the case throughout the world at large. It is said there are little islands lying close together in the South Sea, the inhabitants of which do not understand each other. Of the 860 dis

tinct languages enumerated by Balbi, 53 belong to Europe, 114 to Africa, 153 to Asia, 423 to America, and 117 to Oceania, by which term he distinguishes the vast number of islands stretching between Hindostan and South America.

Looking for the cause of this immense diversity of languages no farther than immediate natural conditions, it is not difficult to come to satisfactory conclusions. Man is invested with the power of speech by means of certain organs; but the organisation of no two individuals is precisely alike. Every single human being has something peculiar to himself, and in the organs of speech as well as in every thing else. Hence, the sound of every voice is palpably different in tone, and every body pronounces some particular words in a particular manner. There are family likenesses in voices and in pronunciation, or general resemblances peculiar to all the children of one pair ; and there are resemblances of a more general kind in the people of one town, or district, or country. These peculiarities spring from peculiarities of organisation precisely analogous to those peculiarities of physiognomy, figure, colour of hair, and so forth, which characterise families, and the inhabitants of districts and countries. Their direct tendency is to give rise to peculiarities of language—that is, to different words and forms of phrase for representing the same ideas; but there is also something to check this tendency. The check is found in the disposition to imitate, which causes a number of persons living in one community to follow more or less one tone of voice, one kind of pronunciation, and one form of phrase. The operation of both the tendency and the check may be studied very well in any family of young children. Each babe will be found to have some peculiarity, causing a certain tone and manner of speech, and leading it to pronounce certain words in a peculiar way; which peculiarities almost entirely give way before the influence which the conversation of its seniors in time exercises upon it. For example, in a large family which happens to be under my observation, I have found various infants at first pronounce the word fly in a particular way, the varieties extending to no fewer than six. With one it was fy, with another ly, with another eye, with another my, with another ty, and with a sixth ky. The pronunciation was, in each case, persisted in for a considerable time, but of course was at length obliged to give way before the influence of correct pronunciation in others. To a minute and assiduous observer of nature, there can be no doubt that such peculiarities originate in peculiarities of organisation, which make each wrong pronunciation in each case the most convenient and agreeable, if not the only one possible at that period of life. Now, it will be

SATURDAY, JULY 30, 1842.

observed that the tendency is a thing inherent, and therefore of constant operation, while the check depends on accidental social conditions. Where these are weak, the tendency will get so much the freer scope, and the diversities will become wider and more numerous. When a society becomes close and intimate, the uniformity will be, on the contrary, great and permanent. Hence we see few changes take place in such civilised densely-peopled countries as those of Western Europe; where, also, a written literature is constantly operating to maintain a standard, at least in phraseology. But where people are few and sparse, or where single families are constantly parting off into new grounds of settlement, the principle of diversity must be comparatively powerful, and new varieties will be constantly arising. We see something of this in the progress of American colonisation.

PRICE 1d.

and Latin-and constituting the present German, and Dutch, and partly the French and English. Next came the Sclavonic, occupying Russia, Poland, Hungary, and northern Turkey. The leading features of the Indo-European class of languages are the compounding of words to make new meanings, and the inflection or changing of beginnings and terminations to form cases, tenses, and other variations.

The second great class of languages, occupying China and other countries of Eastern Asia, is usually called the Monosyllabic class, because every word in them consists of only one syllable. These words may be combined, as in the English words welcome and welfare; but every syllable is significant, and therefore is itself a word. One writer says, that the syllables of the Chinese language are under three hundred in number; another, that they are above four hundred; but the number may be considered as greatly increased by differences in the tone in which they are pronounced, these differences being either four or five in number. There are none of what we would call grammatical forms in the Chinese. Tenses, moods, cases, and the like, are left to be understood by the context, or by the order in which the words are placed. In their pronunciation, they have some of those peculiarities which could only have arisen from organic peculiarities in the originators of the language: they want the consonants b, d, r, v, and z, and when required to sound one of our double consonants, they always put a u between them; thus, Christus is with them Kul-iss-ut-oo-suh.

It is well known that, although so many languages are enumerated, there are many resemblances to be observed amongst them, both as to words having nearly the same signification and as to grammatical forms. These are justly regarded as evidences that the languages in which they are found have something like a common origin, and that the people now speaking them, albeit remote from each other in country, are more or less nearly related-sprung, in short, from one root. Of late years, indeed, a new and most interesting light has been shed upon human history by the inquiries which have been made into languages. Nations far separated from each other, and between which no affinity was suspected to exist, have been shown to The Chinese, though they have been longer a rebe connected, in consequence of the discovery of words fined people than any other known to exist, may be common to both their languages. The grand fact of said to have a simple language. In some respects, it the original colonisation of Europe from Asia, and is such a speech as we should expect to find amongst even some of the leading particulars of that colonisa-a primitive savage tribe. What completes this wontion, are inferred from the investigations of the philologist. But the most curious of all modern discoveries of this nature are certainly those relative to the structure of languages. Many of my readers have, no doubt, heard of universal grammar, that is, grammar applicable to all tongues. This was an idea very natural, when it was observed that there were nouns and verbs, voices, tenses, and so forth, in the Greek and Hebrew, in the French and German, as well as in the English. But when we became acquainted with the languages of remoter parts of the earth, we found that some of them had no such forms, and that the grammar which we have called universal is bounded by a certain geographical line, beyond which all is as different as if the people belonged to a different planet. There are at least three other forms of language-structure, all of them of a perfectly original and distinct character.

Our own form covers nearly the same parts of the earth which have been assigned to the white or Caucasian variety of mankind. It extends from India along Western Asia and into Europe, which it entirely fills; thence it pursues the line of European colonisation in America and elsewhere. The lines along which its origin is traced all point to the Sanscrit, a dead language of Upper India, containing a valuable literature. The class of languages formed upon it is therefore called the Indo-European. Of this family of tongues the Celtic may be presumed to be one of the oldest cadets: it was the language of the first occupants of Europe of whom we have any record. Then, another and superior race, the Gothic, speaking another variety, appear to have advanced in the same direction, gradually overpowering the Celts, and driving them into the corners of Spain, France, and Britain; sending off the Scandinavian variety of speech into the north-perhaps sending off other offshoots to the south, which became component parts of Greek

der is, that the Indians of North America, who have made no advance in arts, literature, or institutions, possess a language remarkable for its richness in words and for its profoundly complicated grammatical forms. One character pervades all the original languages of America, from Greenland to Cape Horn. As a class, they have been called the Polysynthetic, from their combining many ideas in the form of words. They present inflections, but their most remarkable means of adding and varying sense is in a process which, for want of a better term, has been called agglutination. Fragments of words are taken, and, as it were, patched to each other, so as to make up a kind of short-hand sentence. For example, a Delaware woman, playing with a little dog or cat, will be heard saying to it, Kuligatschis, meaning "Give me your pretty little paw :" the word is made up in this manner-K the second personal pronoun, uli part of the word wulit, signifying pretty, gat part of wichgat, signifying a leg or paw, schis conveying the idea of littleness. In the same tongue we find a youth called pilape, compounded from the first part of pilsit, innocent, and the last part of lenape, a man. We cannot enter farther into this subject; but it seems fully ascertained that an extraordinary degree of order, method, and regularity, prevails in the language of the Red man, and that it is entirely different from the tongues of the eastern continent.

Balbi assigns 117 languages to Oceania, and these are all found to be connected with each other in such a way as to show one common origin. I am not aware that this class of languages is distinguished by any peculiar structure, so much as by identity of words; but they are considered as standing, in one way or another, quite apart from the other great classes. They pervade an immense extent of the world's surface, namely, from Madagascar to Easter Island, half

way across the Pacific, a distance not much less than ten thousand miles.

Philologists usually reckon as a distinct class the languages spoken from early ages in the south-western parts of Asia, of which the Hebrew and Arabic are the most conspicuous tongues; but though there is much to distinguish these languages, they do not seem to be sufficiently peculiar in grammatical structure to be entitled to rank as a distinct class. It appears more likely that they are an early offshoot of the Indo-European class. The African languages are understood to be sufficiently well marked to form a dis

tinct class.

Assuming that the distinctions are here correctly stated, we arrive at the important fact, that the fundamental varieties of human speech are comparatively few-probably less than six; that is to say, while there are so many varieties in the words employed by various nations to represent thought, there are less than six great idiomatic formula, or fashions of wordand-sentence-structure. In many of the languages comprehended under each of these forms, there are words in common, besides the general grammatical resemblance; but there is no community of words between the various classes-at least it is now acknowledged that the few terms which have been traced with great effort between the Asiatic and American languages are only the result of accident. We are now called upon to remark the curious fact, that the classes of languages correspond pretty nearly with those great natural divisions of the human race which physiologists have for some time concluded upon. The Indo-European class, if we include in it the languages of South-western Asia, comprehends the whole of the Caucasian race. The Yellow people, or Mongolians, have to themselves the Monosyllabic class of tongues; the Red race have the Polysynthetic. The Oceanic class of languages is the inheritance of what has been called the Malay variety of mankind, and the African class belongs to the Negro or Ethiopic race. Thus, all are parcelled out amongst as many families of human kind, all of which are considered as marked by many essential distinctions in stature, colour, character of the hair, physiognomy, and mental endowments.

all countries where that bird exists. But this class of words is, after all, less numerous than might be expected. Nor is it necessary that it should have been numerous, if there be, as above suggested, a gift in some persons for enunciating chance-formed terms, which become applied to things. But the application of a sound or a term to a thing, quality, or act, is but a first step. Many subsequent processes are needed before a language can be made up. It is at this stage that the great diversities commence; now arise those great accidents of instinctive mental working which result in making one language monosyllabic, with every single syllable significant, and another polysynthetic, with not one single syllable significant, as already shown. To borrow some explanation on this subject-" What are called ideas, are rapid perceptions continually flitting before the mental eye. Like objects viewed through a kaleidoscope, they pass before us in ever-changing shapes, and, in endeavouring to fix them on the memory by articulate sounds, the appearance of the moment will decide the form to be given to those representative signs. The man of quick perceptions will try to retain the idea of a whole physical or moral object, or perhaps a whole group of objects, in his memory, by means of one single word: another of slower comprehension, seeing or perceiving a part only, will appropriate a word or a syllable to the expression of that part, and another and another to each of the other parts that he will successively perceive. In this manner syntactic and atactic idioms have been respectively formed; the impulse first given has been followed, and thus languages have received various organic or grammatical characters and forms. Let us give an example: At the first formation of a language, one man, by signs or otherwise, asks another to do something; the other, anxious to express his consent at once, and conceiving the whole idea, answers, Volo. Another man, whose mind is slower in its operations, divides the idea, and answers in two words, Ego volo, or, I will. Another demand is made to which the first man does not agree; he anwers, Nolo; the other says, Ego non colo, or, I will not. Applying this hypothesis to all languages, and their different forms, it will be perceived how in the beginning they were framed, and how their various structures have been more or less regular, and more or less elegant in their grammatical analogies, according to the temper and capacities of the nations that first formed them, and of the men that took the lead in that promotion, who may not always have been the most sensible of the whole band; for it is to be presumed that, in those early times, as in our own day, the affairs of men were not always directed by the ablest, but oftener perhaps by the most forward and presuming individual."+

From this, some very curious and interesting deductions may be made. In the first place, language is placed amongst the organic distinctions of mankind. Hair is different, visage is different, colour is different, general mental character is different; different, also, are speech, and the forms in which thoughts are arranged for enunciation. To find this last and most remarkable distinction in connexion with others, forms no small addition to the considerations which have led to the classification of mankind into five races. It gives and takes proof to and from that hypothesis. But the researches of Prichard have settled that the The reader will probably have anticipated the five races are only varieties of mankind, or at least particular fact in the early history of our race to be that there is a sufficient variety-producing power in inferred from all this-namely, that the five great nature to have raised up these different tribes from varieties or families had been originated or thrown off, one original stock. Are we to suppose that the fun- dispersed and far separated, before language had prodamental distinctions of languages are irreconcilable ceeded beyond probably some of its simplest elements, with this doctrine? By no means. They only make and certainly before the rise of any of its various idiogood a particular fact in the early history of our race, matic forms. The physiologist could never suppose to which we must now advert; but before doing so, it that the production of the varieties, nor could the phiis necessary to touch slightly on the process of lan-lologist ever with any show of reason suppose that the guage-formation. formation of language, would be effected otherwise than in a considerable space of time. Thus, inquiries in these two different lines come to the same point, that the commencement of all the great leading races took place while as yet language, if it existed at all, must have been in a condition of simplicity so great that it left no trace of itself in the various tongues and idiomatic systems afterwards constructed. It has always been remarked with surprise of the civilised nations found in Mexico and Peru, that they had not the use of iron, from which it was presumed that they had parted off from the original stock in the eastern continent before that metal had been adapted to use; but here, in their language, we have evidence of their having descended from that stock while it was as yet literally in infancy. They probably had devised rude means of navigation, before they had formed any thing entitled to the appellation of a language; for it only could be by drifting over the intermediate seas that they reached America. The law as to diversity and uniformity, spoken of in the early part of this essay, at the same time indicates pretty clearly that, during the early ages of the world, mankind were few in numbers and widely scattered. It has been shown that, where population is dense, language inclines to uniformity; where sparse, to diversity. Now, not only are the five classes altogether various, but amongst each class there is a very great difference both as to words and grammatical forms. For example, the foundations of the Celtic, Gothic, and Sclavonic, the three great genera of the IndoEuropean class, could only have been laid amongst families placed widely apart, and which had brought away from the stock only a few common terms and a general tendency to one set of idiomatic forms. The varieties of these genera must also have been formed amongst a small and widely separated set of people. The colonisation of the earth may, therefore, be presumed to have generally been effected by extremely small parties, perhaps in many instances by single families. In arriving at this point, it may be re

Man has from nature a set of organs expressly and most admirably calculated for the production of speech. His mind has also-though this is a fact not capable of the same lively demonstration-a faculty for the expression of thought by outward signs, of which speech is the principal. A being so endowed, placed upon the world, would have within him the inclination to speak, and also the power of uttering sounds; but there would at first be no social agreement as to what sounds were to be held to represent various ideas. It would be for time to bring about such an agree ment, when there was a sufficient number of people at once to occasion a decided need for language, and to form this said agreement. For a long time the numbers of mankind were probably few, and their faculties ill developed. The process of forming language would accordingly be slow. Out of the gabble in which their faculties would indulge, through the ordinary instinct which leads all faculties to delight in exercise, only a sound now and then would come to be recognised as appropriate to some certain object, quality, or act. The forming of words in this way, and their recognition by other parties, are things which we see almost every day. Children are constantly forming new words, which become recognised in a little circle as representatives of ideas. The vicious classes of civilised communities create cant languages for themselves. There must be a constant new-making of terms for things in the mechanical arts. A peculiar readiness of tongue in some individual creates the sound: the bystanders make it a word. A friend states that one of his children has from infancy shown a turn for making new words, which the rest constantly adopt. The inclination in this instance seems almost unconscious, and none of the rest of the family has ever exhibited a similar tendency. Such a person would probably have taken a lead in language-making in a primitive society. There is a class of words which has evidently been suggested by sounds connected with the objects they stand for. The word for calf in Gaelic, for instance, is an exact fac-simile of the cry of the animal. It was almost unavoidable that nearly the same word should be applied to the cuckoo in the languages of

destitute of such forms, which last is the case of the Chinese. *Syntactic, presenting complicated grammatical forms; alactic, † American Cyclopædia, article Languages.

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marked that we are upon the same ground to which we came in the inquiry as to the rise of nations in a late paper. was there shown to be probable, from the law as to the production of varieties, that the origins of nations strongly distinguished in colour and feature were from single migrators of strongly marked character. The unity of these results is certainly a support to both views.

It is scarcely possible to survey this wonderful history without emotions partaking of the sublime. We are accustomed to look back to the tongues of Achaia and Latium as of great antiquity, because they really are by comparison old, and partly because they have been so long with the things that live no longer. But these languages were but small offshoots of others which had probably existed for ages before them, and still partly exist; for the Teutonic is thought to be one element of the Latin. Those tongues came into existence, were the vehicles of the finest and profoundest thoughts of uninspired man, and then, as beautiful things are doing every day, they died. And it has been the fate of many other languages which at one time flourished, thus to fade and perish, crushed down, perhaps, by some rude conquest, or overpowered by the contact of a superior people. On the other hand, some languages have had the fortune to last for thousands of years without any material change; for instance, those of China and India. It is also strange to reflect that, till comparatively a recent time, western learning knew only of a few languages, and these all of one general character as to form, and partly also as to the constituent sounds; while there were not only thousands of other languages totally unknown, but variations as to form such as no European could have ever dreamed of, as if there had been something like four other human natures upon earth besides our own. Finally, we see new chapters in the early, and as yet obscure, history of mankind, arising from the investigations of a class of inquirers altogether apart from the historical-chapters undated, or whose dates do not admit of being fixed within a thousand years, but which are yet, from their basis being in fact and science, more probable and more true than many of the chronicles of recent and familiar events.

MISS PARDOE'S "HUNGARIAN CASTLE.”* MANY readers will remember that Miss Pardoe, the authoress of "The City of the Sultan," and other works of merit, gave to the public some time since the fruits of her observations during a visit to Hungary, and added largely thereby to her previous literary reputation. She has now thrown together a number of the legendary tales of the Magyars, such as could not very fittingly have been introduced into her reflective and useful account of the manners, customs, and present condition of that remarkable people. The plan which Miss Pardoe has adopted for uniting her series of traditions is not a very novel one, but it answers the purpose sufficiently well. She supposes a large party to have assembled at the castle of a Magyar noble, and, on the occurrence of weather so severe as to debar the gentlemen from hunting, to have resorted to story-telling as a mode of passing the time agreeably. Each individual is called upon to choose a theme from the history of his or her ancestors; and many thrilling narratives, largely (too largely, though almost unavoidably) mingled with the supernatural and superstitious, are the consequence of this arrangement.

One of these stories refers to the age of the early crusades, when Hungary was invaded by a powerful tribe of Mongol-Tartars from the far east, who, under their chief Cadan, and others, spread ruin through the land. The Hungarian king called on his nobles and vassals to take the field against the foe. "Amongst other chieftains, this order extended to that of Loewenstein, upon which the good knight Emmerick instantly prepared to obey the summons of his sovereign; and so efficiently and zealously was he seconded by his retainers, that, ere the lapse of many days, nothing remained for the brave soldier to do but to take a fond and affectionate farewell of his family, and sally forth to dare the issue of the coming struggle.

Until the hour of his departure came, the knight had not found time to bestow a thought upon this parting; nor was it until he saw his gallant Arab fretting in the court-yard, and flinging large flakes of foam in the air as it tossed its graceful neck, and strove to escape from the hands of the groom, that he became aware of a sinking of the heart and a sadness of the spirit, which he would willingly have shaken off, but could not.

Next to his country and his honour, the gallant Sir Emmerick loved the lady Agnes. She had been so young, so beautiful, and so innocent, when he made her his bride; she had become so excellent a wife, and so staid and queenly a matron; and she had reared his brave boys and his fair and gentle girls in such sweet peace and beautiful obedience, that the household of Loewenstein had grown into a proverb in the province. Sad indeed was the parting; for the lady Agnes well knew the half-savage and barbarous nature of the enemies against whom her lord was about to contend, and the most gloomy forebodings pressed upon her spirit.

*"The Hungarian Castle." By Miss Pardoe, author of "The City of the Sultan," &c. 3 vols. London: T. and W. Boone.

Had one of our dear boys been only old enough to have fought beside thee, my Emmerick,' she said fondly, as she stood with her arm about his neck, and her head pillowed upon his shoulder, methinks I should not have grieved so much at thy departure; for the saints would have loved so fair a sight, and have protected thee for thy child's sake and for mine. But thou goest forth alone against these barbarians, and I am loath to let thee quit me.'

Nay, madam, and my good mistress,' interposed a hoarse voice at her elbow; and turning suddenly towards it, the lady Agnes beheld at her side the stalwart and lofty form of Andrew Budiak, the castellan of Loewenstein, one of the most tried and faithful of her husband's followers, a man who, although past his prime, was still as bold in the battle-field as he was true in the castle-hall, and who had won his present post by long years of fidelity and service. Budiak was looked upon with reverence by all the household, and with trust and favour by the knight and his fair wife; while to the happy boys who grew up in beauty beneath his eye, he was at once a playmate, a protector, and a friend. Nay, madam, and my good mistress,' said the deep voice of the castellan, that may still be as it pleases my lord; for there is no need that one like lie should go forth without a trusty heart at his stirrup.'" The offer of Budiak was promptly refused, but being persisted in, it was at length accepted of; and thus increased, the party set off to join the army of the Magyars. Few chieftains, as it appeared, had armed with the promptitude of Sir Emmerick; and the consequence was, that a very inefficient force of Magyars was compelled to make the attempt to check the Tartars by meeting them in the field. The issue was but what might have been anticipated, considering the hardiness and wild daring of the hostile forces.

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"Never was a battle more fatal than that which made the river-tide of the Lago run red with the blood of both Hungarian and Tartar. The Tartarian troops suffered severely, and their slain cumbered the green sward; but Hungary had to weep not only her bravest but her noblest. High heads were bowed that day, and high hearts stilled for ever; there was scarcely a hearth throughout the land beside which one seat was not made vacant. Death had a rich harvest. But, alas! the evil ended not here; for they who fell were comparatively blessed; their cares were over; and when the broad sun went down after the fight, it gilded with its goodliest beams the graves of those who slept beneath them. The pale dawn rose, and the mountain vapours unwound their clammy wreaths from peak and pinnacle, as the radiant beam came on; but with the light and warmth of day came also the wild victors among the dying and the dead, to plunder those whose task was ended, and to secure the wounded, who might hereafter be ransomed.

Of the latter number were the knight of Loewenstein and his faithful Budiak, who had fought and fallen together; and who, having partially recovered consciousness, and given unequivocal signs of life, were lifted from the earth, conveyed into the Tartar camp, and assigned by lot to the chief Cadan.

A few days of rest were reluctantly ceded to them, for their wounds were numerous and severe; but their savage master had no sooner ascertained that no actual risk of their dying by the way still existed, than they were chained together, and with a score of other unfortunates, also linked two and two, and attached by the centre of their fetters to the stirrup of a Tartar horseman, bearing a long and pliant lance in his hand, a bow slung at his saddle-bow, and a quiver of arrows at his back, they were dragged or driven onward, and not unfrequently impelled by blows, towards the home of their captor."

After weary months of hope deferred, making the heart sick, the lady Agnes of Loewenstein not only heard of her misfortune, but received it in an exaggerated form. It was told to her that her husband was dead! "It were vain to attempt to depict the agony of the widowed mother, as she listened to the fatal tale. Dead!' she exclaimed wildly. "What! the father of my boys? The lord of Loewenstein, who hath ever made his foemen lick the dust, and scattered terror before him as he went? It cannot be You would mock me, because I am here alone, and that he is not by to comfort me'- And then she wept, and none sought to control her tears, for they knew that without this kindly dew such grief might craze her brain; but they brought her children to her, and placed her last-born on her knee; and then they left her in her sorrow, for they felt that it was too sacred to look upon at such a moment."

Emmerick, meanwhile, was wasting his days in toil, suffering, and tears, nor could even his faithful Budiak talk to him of hope. But a gleam of light at length glanced on their gloomy state. "It chanced that one evening, overcome by exertion under a burning sun, the lord of Loewenstein and his companion sank down side by side upon their bed of leaves, within the den which had been assigned to them, when Budiak, in the act of turning away his head from his master, that he might not seem to be watching his misery, caught sight of an axe which had been accidentally left in their cell by one of the hired labourers employed in erecting sheds for the newly-arrived captives, who were so numerous as to require additional places of shelter; and without even asking himself a question as to its probable utility, or forming any plan in which it might avail, he hastily concealed it within his gar

ments. As he did so, a new hope, strong and resistless, sprang up within him; although he could shape it into no tangible form or likeness, nor torture his invention into any scheme of deliverance which was not only too vague but even too impossible for accomplishment.

The night wore on; the watch had been set; each prisoner had answered as his name had been challenged by the captain of the guard; and the deep slumber of over-wrought strength-that sleep which is without rest, and almost without blessing-had fallen upon the miserable band, when Budiak revealed to the knight the secret of his newly-acquired treasure. Their first impulse was spontaneous; chained as they were together, all escape was impossible; but this strong instrument would sever those galling fetters, and set them free. Accordingly, with great caution, and muffling the sound of the iron links with the folds of their coarse garments, the two captives commenced their attempt; but every effort proved fruitless; the ponderous chain was too substantial to be so severed; and after they had alternately exhausted their feeble remains of strength in the vain endeavour, they desisted in despair, and as they did so, each turned aside

to weep.

It avails not, at length exclaimed the knight; 'we are fated to die like felons, and we must submit there is no hope-would that there were also no memory. What a curse has the past become to me! I grow old as I call it back. Budiak, I love you-I mourn for you-I cannot forget that it is for me that you are here, when you might have been free, and honoured, and happy. And what are you now?' "Your own poor servant, my good lord,' was the reply, as the faithful follower turned painfully upon his rugged bed, and raised the hand of his chieftain to his lips, which were moistened by the blood-drops that his late struggle to rend the chain had collected on his maimed and smarting fingers: Your own poor servant, suffering for you and with you, and thus far happier than if he were himself the lord of Loewenstein! Would you think of me when the chain is rusting into your own flesh?'

"There is no hope!' ejaculated the knight.

'My honoured lord,' continued Budiak, 'despair not; nature sometimes shrinks for a time, but she redeems herself at last; I can support my own misery, for I am alone in the world; glory has been my mistress, and I have known no other; I am the child and the votary of fortune; and though the chances have now turned against me, I have no right to rebuke my fate; for, thanks to you, my brave and honoured master, I have in my time dealt far heavier blows than I have yet received. With you it is otherwise; you were born to greatness, and you have lost your birthright;

but it must be redeemed.'

'Alas! there is no hope,' murmured the knight, as he buried his face in his hands.

He was aroused by the sound of a heavy blow. Not one which had fallen upon a hard and resisting substance, but which produced a crashing and smothered sound, that although he knew not why, thrilled to the very core of his heart.

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What have you done, Budiak?' he asked hurriedly. My lord! my benefactor!' gasped out the voice of his follower; there was but the accursed Tartar chain between you and freedom, and we could not burst it. It holds you here no longer; go, rejoin your wife, and be happy. Tell her'

As he paused in agony, and raised his hand to dash the sweat-drops from his brow, the knight bent towards him to discover the secret of his terrible emotion; when with a groan of misery he sank back in his turn, exclaiming-Tell me that I dream-I dare not -will not believe that you have done this.'

"Calm yourself, my lord, and think of flight,' replied the heroic vassal; and as he spoke, he raised himself with a violent effort, and wrenched away, from the fetter by which it had been so long encircled, the leg which he had hewn from his body in order to accomplish the escape of his master; let me fling off this useless limb which never served me so well as it has done this day. And now be wary, my good lord, and you are free; for our infidel captors have trusted largely to the chain, and speed and silence will almost insure success.'

'Never!' said Emmerick, as he threw his arms about the devoted man; I will never leave you here alone maimed for my sake-a prey to the lash; or perhaps to die without one friendly voice to murmur peace in your last moments.'

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Will you then condemn me to feel that I have made this sacrifice in vain ?' asked Budiak. Will you compel me to see my own sufferings aggravated by your participation in them, without having the power to alleviate a single pang? Have you forgotten that if you are found here at dawn we shall both be the victims of an act for which I alone should be responsible? You will not-cannot bid me suffer this? Come, come, my lord, arouse yourself and depart, and let my bodily sufferings be forgotten in the intense yearning with which I shall follow you in thought upon your homeward path.'

I will not leave you thus,' persisted the knight. 'Nay, then, hear the truth'-and once more the gallant castellan raised himself upon his arm, and struggled against the faintness which was rapidly overcoming his strength-even now I feel that I am dying. My heart flutters a while like a newly-caged bird, and then stands still; and the blood that is

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draining my veins drops cold and thick, as though little more remained to shed. Farewell.'

The last words were scarcely gasped out when the sufferer fell heavily back upon the earth, cold, rigid, and unconscious; nor did the knight for an instant doubt that the spirit of the stout soldier had fled for ever."

For a time the knight could only weep over the body of Budiak, who had proved his devotion to his master at such a price; but thoughts of home gradually grew thick and fast upon him. Budiak, too, must not have died in vain; and Emmerick roused himself to attempt his escape. He succeeded, and after a time got rid of his affecting burden. At length, "wearied and wayworn, he reached a spot whence he could look upon his home; but even as he stood gazing upward on its tall towers bathed in light, and its dark frowning battlements that formed a warlike and threatening coronal to the steep rock which they surmounted, a solemn strain of music swept downward to the valley, like a requiem for the dead; and a cold chill gathered about the heart of the wanderer, as he asked of a peasant who stood beside him, and who had been his guide through the difficult passes of the mountain, why that mournful strain was pealing out.

'Stranger,' was the reply, had you been an inhabitant of our province, you would have known that two years since this very day the brave lord of Loewenstein, on whose castle you are now looking, fell in fight against the Tartars; and his lady, who has never yet cast aside her mourning weeds, is celebrating his annual requiem, surrounded by all his vassals and retainers. Well may they weep for him, for few have ever mourned a better master.'

'Why are you not among them if you mourn his fate?' asked the knight.

It was this errand which brought me into your path,' replied the serf; 'I am bound for the castle even now, and trust I shall not arrive too late.'

'I will be your companion,' said Emmerick; the prayers of the soldier and the wayfarer will be welcome.'

'As you will,' was the reply, and in another moment they were breasting the steep ascent to Loewenstein, each too much absorbed in his own reflections to weary his comrade with words; nor did the knight resent the blunt fellowship of his guide, for two years of famine and wretchedness had so altered him that he was as one disguised, whom none might recognise; and thus he approached his own halls, in hopefulness of spirit, but the mere shadow of his former self, clad in rags, and wasted by famine.

When they reached the chapel, they found it hung with sable drapery, and lighted by torches; and even as she had stood before the altar in the first days of her imaginary widowhood, so stood the lady Agnes now, covered from head to foot in a thick black veil, and surrounded by her children; her meek eyes raised to heaven, and her cheek pale from vigils and regret.

As he looked upon her, the knight could scarcely refrain from clasping her to his heart, and kissing away the tears which were falling fast into her bosom; but the solemn service had commenced, and he felt that he was once more kneeling before the altar of his faith, and that his first emotions of gratitude and love were due to Heaven; but so strongly was he moved as the rites proceeded, that many about him looked anxiously and curiously on the strange man who had come among them at such a moment, no one knew whence, to weep as they wept, and to mingle his grief with theirs.

When the service terminated, the lady Agnes proceeded from the chapel to the great gate of the castle, to distribute alms to all such as might be there to receive them; and no hands save her own and those of her fair children were suffered to aid in the distribution of the food, which, as each received it, was repaid by a prayer for the dead.

In his turn, Emmerick approached the sad and gentle lady; but ere he did so, he drew from his bosom and displayed above his tattered vest a smail picture of the Virgin, suspended about his neck by a chain of her own hair, which she had hung there years before, on one of his departures for battle, and which, from its utter want of intrinsic value, his captors had suffered him to retain.

The ornament caught the eye of Geysa, his elder and favourite son, and the boy drew to it the attention of his mother by exclaiming Serve this poor pilgrim, I beseech you, mother, for he seems faint from toil and want; and he must surely be a good man, for see, even amid his rags, he has preserved a picture of Our Lady, which he might have sold for food.'

Thus urged, the lady Agnes drew near the mendicant, and as her eyes fell upon the relic, she at once recognised her own gift; but for a while she stood speechlessly gazing upon the gaunt and squalid figure before her, and then, throwing back her veil, she bent down with parted lips and distended eye-balls, like one paralysed by a hideous dream, and gasped out'Speak! Whence are you? Speak!'

Agnes!' murmured a well-known voice, and in the next instant Emmerick once more held his beloved wife in his arms."

The story now returns to Budiak, who recovered from his faint, and whose condition at once told the Tartars in the morning what had taken place. ""Thou shalt die the death of a dog, vile slave!' exclaimed the chief; 'without help and without pity.'

master.'

'And he has left thee here to perish,' sneered the Tartar general.

He thought me dead,' said Budiak firmly; and he is now free, and will be ere long in his own halls.' "Only tell me that thou hast repented the rash deed, and that were it yet to do thou wouldst refuse,' urged the astonished Cadan.

I may not pass away with a lie upon my lips,' said the castellan; I would lop every limb save that which did the holy work, could I by the sacrifice insure to him the happiness of a life of freedom and success. And now let me die; I have nothing to regret or to excuse; and I would fain pray for my chief and for my country while I have yet breath to do it.'

The Tartar general turned aside in deep emotion. In the half-savage devotion and self-sacrifice of the Hungarian vassal there was a haughty carelessness of suffering, and even of life, which he could at once appreciate and admire.

He must not perish thus,' he said to his astonished attendants; and then stooping towards the castellan, he added gently, 'Christian, thou hast conquered. The sun rests to-day upon my weapon, but its beam may glance off in some hour of peril, when such love as thine may be beyond all price. Strive against thy weakness, and live. Care and rest may yet restore thee; and I swear that for the sake of the noble lesson thou hast taught to my own followers, thou shalt no sooner be able to keep the saddle than I shall give thee gold, and arms, and such a steed as it shall become a Tartar chieftain himself to cross, and send thee under a safe escort to thine own people and thine own land, that the proud Hungarians may learn that Cadan can also respect the virtue of fidelity.'

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it upon its back,

ration, suffice it to say that, when the insect is placed has the power, by its means, of leaping suddenly into the air to a considerable height. The force producing this bound does not take effect exactly in the centre of gravity, but rather towards the anterior part of the body; the consequence of which is, that the animal turns upon itself, or makes a summerset in the air, and falls upon its feet. It can leap much higher than is necessary for this pur pose we have frequently seen it spring out of a box upwards of six inches deep; but nature often works out several purposes by one instrument, and it uses this faculty both as a means of escape from enemies and of rapidly changing its place as it may be inclined.

'I care not,' was the reply; 'I have saved my and strengthening them, dilating the last section into a pretty broad plate, ciliated or fringed with hairs, so as to present a considerable surface to the water. Four such implements, plied with the utmost vigour, sufficiently account for the rapid motion of this curious little creature. Its gyratory movements are no doubt performed by its working the paddles only on one side of its body at once, just as the rowers of a boat turn it by ceasing to ply the oars on one side. There is another part of its structure manifesting such a careful forethought for its safety and accommodation, that it must not be passed unnoticed. Moving on the surface of the water, as it habitually does, it requires to see objects in the air, and, at the same time, it is desirable that it should have the power of looking When we observe the different situations in which downwards, as it has enemies both above and below. insects occur, and the kind of substances among which The eyes are placed on the side of the head in such a they often live, we might very naturally conclude manner that one-half of them looks upwards and the that a supply of atmospheric air is not always necesother downwards; and, having a process from the an- sary to maintain them in life. Nothing, however, terior part of the head running across the centre, they could be more erroneous than such an inference; in present all the appearance and perform all the offices all their different stages of metamorphosis, and in of four eyes-a pair for the air and another for the every possible mode of existence, air is as indispensable to them as to animals possessed of lungs. But Let us now take an example of what may more the situations and substances in which they must strictly be called the analogues of oars. The water- often live in order to fulfil the functions devolved beetles formerly alluded to (the Dytiscida) possess upon them in the economy of nature, are of such a them in great perfection. The hinder legs are long kind as to render it a matter of extreme difficulty to and thick, and the joints of the tarsi are broad, flat-convey to them the requisite supply of this essential tened, and fringed on the inner side with a strong element. We accordingly find that the means emseries of hairs. This may be called the blade of the ployed to effect this object are very diversified and oar. When the leg is drawn forward, the sharp edge curious, affording some of the most remarkable and cuts the water, and the cilia, or hairs, fall into its interesting specimens of design and provident care to wake without offering any resistance; but the mo- be found in this class of animals, fruitful as it is, in ment the pressure backwards is applied, the flattened all its departments, in examples of this description. side of the joints and the expanded cilia meet the In digging into substances of considerable density water, affording a sufficient point d'appui to propel and adhesiveness, such as putrescent vegetable and the insect forward with great speed. This instru- animal matter, the head has of course to force the ment admirably answers the intended object; but a passage, and is consequently most deeply imbedded in similar one, still more fully developed, occurs in what the mass; as a matter of general convenience, thereis called, par excellence, the boat-fly (Notonecta). In fore, insects never breathe by the head, but most comthis case the oars are of such length, viewed in rela- monly by the tail. To leave a free opening into that tion to the size of the animal, that they may not im- for the access of the air, it is very frequently, in properly be called sweeps. They are constructed on larvæ, surrounded by a series of flexible rays, which the same principle as those last mentioned, but the are closed over the aperture when there is any risk of tarsi are more densely ciliated. They are placed it being filled up, and, when the tail is at the surface, almost exactly amid-ships, so to speak, so that the are expanded like the widened mouth of the compropelling power is exerted just at the place corre- mon funnel used for pouring liquids into narrowsponding to that where the engineer finds it most ex-necked bottles. The most beautiful and elaborate pedient to fix the paddles of a steamboat. The insect example of this kind of apparatus is found in the aids their action by a singular instinctive habit, the larva of the chameleon-fly, which lives in water. The design of which can neither be mistaken nor fail to hinder extremity of the body is surrounded with a be admired. The under side of its body is nearly flat, circle of about thirty diverging rays. These rays are and covered with those fine hairs which are designed beautifully feathered, capable of repelling water, and to repel the water in aquatic insects; the back rises, the aperture they surround communicates with two with slightly bulging sides, into a dorsal ridge, not large air-vessels, which ultimately ramify into every inaptly representing a keel; and the whole surface is part of the body. When the insect desires a supply of very smooth and glossy, admirably fitted for gliding fresh air, the tail is raised to the surface, and the rays through the water. An accurate notion may be expanded on all sides; thus a free communication is formed of the little animal's appearance when swim- opened between the atmosphere and the aperture in ming in the ordinary way, by supposing it to resemble the tail, even though the latter be a little beneath the a decked boat moving on the surface of the water level of the surface. The expanded rays serve, at the with the keel uppermost, which, though not so awk- same time, to suspend the body in its vertical position. ward in the insect as in the case supposed, is still an When about to descend, the points of the rays are incommodious and inefficient mode of ploughing drawn together, and a globule of air enclosed, which through a resisting medium; and as the centre of shines in its passage through the water like a drop gravity is towards the back, it has a tendency to fall of quicksilver. The use of this air-bubble seems to over. The reader, we feel assured, anticipates what be both to afford a continued supply of air, and to is to follow; the insect, at all events, has no difficulty render the body more buoyant when it becomes necesin determining what is best in such circumstances, sary to rcascend. To facilitate the same object, when and, whenever it requires to move rapidly, it turns the air happens to be exhausted while beneath the itself on its back. surface, the animal has the power of again replenishing its little reservoir by forcing air into it from the air-vessels; thus making it serve the same purpose as the air-bladder in fishes. The design of the whole apparatus is most obvious, its operation most efficient, and its structure most beautiful.

In deep gratitude and amazement the overjoyed Budiak endeavoured, maimed and tortured as he was, to cast himself at the feet of his generous captor; but as he ceased speaking, the Tartar left the cell.

The thought of home and freedom, combined with the care of those around him, who fulfilled to the letter the instructions of their chief, soon restored the castellan to some degree of strength; and he no sooner believed himself able to encounter the fatigue of the undertaking, than he obtained permission to set forth upon his journey.

At length the blessed moment came, and joyful was the welcome with which for the second time the inhabitants of Loewenstein received, as if from the grave, one whom they had long mourned as lost to them for ever. He came to them crippled and wasted, it is true, but he was again among those who were to him dearer than limbs or life; and he felt himself pressed to the heart of his grateful master, and greeted by the name of 'brother; and the happy tears of the lady Agnes were on his hand, and the kisses of her children upon his lips, and all around him was care and congratulation."

This beautifully told tale of vassal devotion will satisfy our readers that the name of Miss Pardoe is still, as formerly, a secure guarantee for the interest of any work to which it is prefixed.

SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY. EVIDENCES OF DESIGN IN THE STRUCTURE OF INSECTS.

(CONCLUDED.)

No one can look upon a tranquil sheet of water, during the spring and summer months, without at once perceiving that it is almost as fully replenished with insect life as the air itself. Multitudes are seen disporting on the surface with an infinite variety of movement; others are resting with the body in an oblique direction, having only the hinder extremity in contact with the air, as if in a state of indolent repose, but in reality executing an indispensable function in their economy; while not a few are darting through the clear element or moving about the bottom. It is impossible to watch their varied movements without at once concluding that they are endowed with many different modes of progression, suited to the medium they inhabit. Aquatic insects are in no case provided with true fins; various other ingenious contrivances are resorted to in order to supply the means of motion. What more likely to answer the purpose than paddles and oars? With these, accordingly, many species are provided, and their motions are performed, by means of them, with admirable ease and velocity. The little black beetle, whose polished coat sparkles in the sunshine like a piece of burnished metal, and which must have attracted the attention even of those most indifferent to such subjects by its sprightly movements on the surface of every sheltered pool, describing a series of circles in endless succession, and occasionally darting to the bottom with a bright silvery globule of air at its extremity-this active and sportive little creature is a paddler. We have seen that, in digging insects, it is the fore-legs that are made to do the office of a pick and spade; it is obvious that none of the others, from their position, could answer the purpose. The propelling power in the water is most effectually applied at or behind the middle; the fore-legs of the water-beetle in question (Gyrinus natator) are therefore allowed to remain nearly in the ordinary shape, and the middle and hinder pair are converted into paddles. This is done by shortening

In the examples formerly noticed of leaping insects, that power was seen to reside in the hinder legs; another tribe have the same property conferred on them by a very different kind of mechanism. In this case we distinctly see why there is a deviation from the ordinary means employed for leaping, and we likeThe pneumatic mechanism employed in the aquatic wise witness the introduction of a peculiar structure or larvæ of gnats is essentially analogous to the above, apparatus for the purpose of accomplishing it. The but differs greatly in the details, affording a striking insects in question are the Elaterida or spring-beetles, evidence of what so many things concur to prove which are pretty numerous in this country, and well that variety, for its own sake, independently of every known in their larva state under the name of wire- other consideration, was an object kept in view even worms, as proving very injurious to many kinds of ag- in the organisation, as it most unquestionably is in the ricultural produce. Their bodies are long, and the back adornment, of animals. These larvæ have been often generally rather flat; the legs comparatively short and described, and we shall not therefore notice them furslender. The consequence of these peculiarities is, ther. Such, likewise, may be said to be the case with that when the insect falls upon its back, which it very the larva of a common fly (Heliophilus pendulus) often does when creeping upon plants, as its legs are which is usually called the rat-tailed maggot; but not fitted for taking a firm hold of them, it is gene- this affords such an admirable instance of the fact rally unable to replace itself on its feet. It is well now attempted to be illustrated from the structure of known that the larger kinds of tortoises are incapable insects, that it must not be entirely omitted. This of regaining their feet when once laid on their back; larva must seek its appropriate food among ooze and they have no provision for the purpose, just because, mud, formed of decomposed vegetable and animal when in their natural haunts, there is very little matter, always in a very soft state, and frequently chance of their being overturned. With the insects covered with water; at the same time, it must have a in question, however, the accident so often occurs in communication with the air for breathing. How are the fulfilment of their ordinary instincts, that it be- these two necessities, in ordinary cases irreconcilable, came necessary for the well-being of the species that provided for? The insect terminates in a long flexible the consequences should be guarded against. A pair tail, capable of being pushed out to twelve times the of thickened saltatorial legs would obviously not do: length of its body, which encloses a breathing tube when once the insect is on its back, these cannot act; through which the supply of air is conveyed. This they are powerful levers, but the most powerful levers tube can be lengthened and shortened to answer the are useless without a fulcrum. A special contrivance occasion; and as the creature is sometimes on the is resorted to to meet the difficulty. From the under surface when its services are not required, and where side of what may be called the breast-bone, a long such a long appendage would be an incumbrance, it spine or process projects in a backward direction, and can be contracted to very small dimensions, the airthis is received into a groove in the anterior of the abdo- pipes, in that case, being coiled up. To describe this men. Without entering into a full detail of this appa-instrument is to demonstrate the design for which it ratus, which is somewhat complex, being accompanied has been constructed. with several subordinate parts intended to aid its ope- Other aquatic insects, which require to take in air

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