Beside the northern whale the proportions of the rhinoceros and elephant dwindle into contempt. He lashes the ocean with his tail and convulses it as with the madness of the tempest. He sometimes strikes the whale-boat and dashes it high into the air. Brave whaler, beware! If the enraged beast reach thy craft, short will be thy shrift, brief thy closing prayer. The harpoon flies! Back those oars! Let out that line! Back the oars for life-dear life itself! The puny arm can let out that mighty life; but if one moment his skill fail him; if he lose his self- | possession; if his boat become unmanageable; if his keen eye detect not in due time the coming of the maddened brute, terrible will be his revenge. Another sad page will be written in the chapter of accidents. Be wary, O whaleman! There are bright eyes at New Bedford which are suffused with tears when the northern tempest goes moaning by. Be wary! There are loved ones at home who eagerly long for news of thy coming. Be wary! thy foe is upon thee! Have we a sea-serpent? This is a mooted question, which has been positively proven in the affirmative by many credible witnesses, who most unequivocally testify they have seen him have been chased by him, or, at all events, ran from him. This would settle the question, but we have the proof which carried the day in the Hibernian court; there are a great many more who testify as positively that they never saw him. This must, then, remain an open question, involved in the mystery enshrouding the origin of evil and the success of the caloric engine. But, sea-serpent or not, there is a sea-elephant, one of the "first families" of seals, sometimes thirty feet long and eighteen feet in circumference; the sea-fox, a species of shark with long and curved tail, creeping with malignant cunning upon his victim; the sea-lion, and leopard, and wolf, and tiger, which grow to enormous size. It has also otters, pheasants, gulls, and mews. Also the ponderous walrus, the agile sword-fish, the nautilus, moving with spread sail, add to its numbers. The urchin and the unicorn are also among the denizens of the deep. The mackerel, the cod, the gar, the ruff, the star-fish move in shoals or dart singly in search of food. eries engaging three thousand American vessels, and some five thousand of Dutch, French, and English sail; nor of turtles, weighing twelve hundred pounds; nor of snails, creeping among the branches of sea-weed; nor of sportive mollusks, chasing each other in mimic fray; nor of the coral-tree, reared by the "infinitesmal train" which, obedient to the utilitarian advice of Mrs. Hemans, has continued to toil on. I am inspired by still another theme. Reader, dear reader, there are oysters in the sea; ay, oysters, large, luscious, lazy oysters, lying in comfortable beds, extracting, through their delicate gills, the air lurking in each drop of passing water-there removed from the conflicts of politics, the agitation of reformers, the zeal of comeouters, they contemplate and fatten. Let no one ask of what use is the sea? The philosopher answers that it is a highway, uniting different nations and bearing their commerce. Softly, sir, it separates nations. I would have visited England long since, had it not been in the way. As to being a highway for commerce, but for it we would have a turnpike to Sicily, a plank road to Alexandria, and go to Thebes, Karnak, and Memphis on a rail. We would have a water-station at Philæ, and "wood" among the palms of Capri. At Posylippo we would have a market depot and a warehouse for the packing season at Luxor. No, sage sir, your answer won't do. Will you turn catechist and ask, "What use is the sea?" Divers and sundry are its uses, and it raises oysters! “And what are oysters?" Poor man, dost thou not know? Didst thou never sit by the bowl of steaming oyster soup? Never ate the well-roasted turkey dressed with oyster sauce? Never partook of oysters fried? Did pickled oysters never regale thy palate? Didst thou never receive them fresh and living from the cart of the oyster-man, and, penknife in hand, open the glad bivalves and permit the resident to leap down thy throat? Never? Unfortunate man! Thou art an object of sympathy. But, dismissing this persiflage, the coral demands a more satisfactory notice than it has received, and I give it in the language of a writer in a cotemporary magazine. "Here germinates, But, gentle reader, the half has not been told out of the stone, a living, sensitive animal, clad thee. Ocean hath somewhat beside these. I in the gay form and bright colors of flowers, and speak not of salmon, although gladly would I adorned with phosphorescent brilliancy. As if speak of them and over them; nor of herrings, in a dream, the animal polypus awakens in the sailing in schools, ranging from a few furlongs to stone for a moment, and like a dream it crystalseveral miles in breadth, and from ten to thirty lizes into a stone again. They build large, powin length, so closely packed that the deep sea- erful castles, and high, lofty steeples, resting lead can not pass through them; nor of the fish-upon the very bottom of the sea, rising stone upon stone, and cemented like no other on this globe. The minute polypi work quietly and silently, and with modest industry, in their neverceasing struggle with the mighty waves. Thus they build year after year, century after century, till at last their atolls inclose vast lakes in the midst of the ocean, where eternal peace reigns undisturbed by the stormy waves and the raging tempest. But when their marvelous structure reaches the surface it rises no farther, for the polypi are true children of the sea, and as soon as sun and air touch them they die. They erect barriers which preserve human habitations from destruction. Man can not defend himself against the roll and rush of angry floods. wall was falling more and more rapidly. There we stood, perhaps fifty men; among them were wealth, and science, and mechanical skill, and brave hearts, but all were powerless with such a foe. We went to the house, removed the family and goods to a place of safety, and came back to watch the flood. The stone-work was gone, and, like a gigantic plow, the river was cutting away the bank in huge slices. Nearer it came-un dermined the dear old shade-trees and they fellthe ornamental fence and shrubbery followed. About four o'clock it struck one corner of the dwelling, swept out the foundation-it stood a moment, reeled for a moment, and toppled into The mills which manufacture the clean, white the stream below-a moment more and it was calendered paper upon which the Repository is broken to pieces! Daylight revealed a very picprinted, are located on a small river in a beautiful | ture of disaster. All was ruin―the lovely home Indiana village. The stream, in summer, be-gone-all gone save a few foundation stones. comes so diminutive that a lady can cross on the We realized that when "the voice of God was loose stones and not injure her thin slippers. on the waters" vain was the skill of man. But when swollen by angry winter floods, the tiny thread of silver becomes a chainless devastator. Two years ago came such a flood of rain | and melting snow. Above the mill and dam the bank was protected by heavy stone work, which had heretofore successfully stood against the severest freshets. Near midnight I reached the spot, and found the shore lined with anxious citi-But what man can not do, the minute coral inzens desirous to render assistance to the esteemed proprietors. The stream now looked the very picture of uncaged fury. The occasional flashes of lightning gave us fair view; it rolled madly, its waves overtopping each other and mingling the turbid waters. O how angry was the roar! We first watched for the safety of the dam, erected at great expense, and on the stability of which depended, in part, the safety of the costly works. By and by the large blocks of hewn stone began to fall, tossed by the river as mere playthings. Faster and faster still they fell, till the whole gave way. The head-gate soon followed, and the torrent ran through the race directly into the mill. But a more startling danger was upon us. The junior partner had a beautiful cottage upon the bluff bank of the river, and hitherto had dreaded no danger. Even in the storm and wreck the lights gleamed cheerfully and home-like. The children were sleeping quietly-the wife could not sleep; but as yet the imminent peril of her house had not alarmed her. A new splashing was heard. The senior listened a moment and then suddenly said, "The protection is giving away; if it fails the house must go." We list ened the danger was confirmed-the trusted What, then, must be the might of enraged ocean when the storm-spirit makes its depths to boil, rolls up its mountain waves, and dashes the mad surf against the shore? What shall abide that fearful rush? Man has vainly essayed to defend himself-old ocean laughs at his bulwarks and tosses his defenses like mere playthings. sect has done. Fast it anchors its foundation on the bed of the sea, and builds up and still up amidst its wildest storms and most violent dashings. Come when calm has succeeded storm. Lo the works of the infinitesimal polypi abide the fleet is sunk, the pier is shattered, but the coral bulwark stands! And in pitying kindness it becomes the protector of man-surrounds his home in the deep with storm-defying and century-abiding bulwarks. Ay, it is true that old ocean teems with manyformed life. And so worthily sang a noble poet many centuries ago. "O Lord! how manifold are thy works! There go the ships: These all wait upon thee, that thou Mayest give them meat in due season." Ocean is a great battle-field. War is always raging among its tribes. There is no booming artillery-no clashing swords-no shouting of captains or neighing of steeds. The work goes on silently, but still that world below is like this world above-the strong pursue the weak, the weak in turn prey upon those less powerful, and they seek others still more feeble. Thus murder, and robbery, and violence are going on in the depths as well as on the surface. The genius of discord presides among them. Ishmaelites are they, those dwellers in the sea. Man is the common destroyer of all, from the whale and the shark to the gentle and minute shell-fish. Remember that each ocean wave is instinct with life; that its flash is the phosphorescent gleam of its animalcula: and now tell me whence they derive their sustenance? Can we tell? Verily we can not, unless we answer with the Psalmist quoted above, "these all wait upon thee, that thou mayest give them meat in due season." And what lessons of divine wisdom and be neficence do these manifold creatures teach us! Perfect skill is manifested in the organism of the most delicate vadioti, medusæ, and polypi. And they are all perfectly adapted to the element in which they are placed. There are beings prepared to make their home in the tall algæ, to shelter beside the slow-wrought coral masonry, to dwell beneath the iceberg, and shine and glitter amid the tropic seas. HOW TO MAKE HOME INTOLERABLE. BY ELIZA COOK. HERE are various methods of making home out the aid of a recipe. But if any one wishes to know the secret, we venture to give a few hints, which may be useful-not by way of helping our readers to reduce them to practice, but rather with a view to their avoidance. A common proverb makes a smoky chimney and a scolding wife the worst of domestic plagues. But there are worse than these. A smoky chimney shows there is a fireside at all events, and if the chimney smokes, it is the builder's and not the housewife's fault; and as for a scolding wife, why she may possibly teach her husband philosophy, as Xantippe did Socrates. A dirty wife is far worse. A wife may scold, and yet be clean and thrifty. But a scolding slattern is a terrible nuisance at home, and very soon will succeed in making a home thoroughly intolerable for even the most pacific and contented dispositions. If with dirt there be waste, the acme of discomfort will be reached. Money spent recklessly, and without any useful product of comAy, in wisdom he made it all-in wisdom fort-what is the end of this but poverty and infinite and beneficent. But there is human life upon the sea. Thousands go down in ships. They brave ocean's fiercest waves, and sometimes brave them once too often. Do we remember there is redeemed life upon the wide waste of the sea? Do we ever reflect that each sloop and smack, as well as each proud ship and gallant schooner, bears a load of humanity deathless as the being of God, immortal as the ages of eternity? What have we done to save the sailor? To lead him to Jesus and make him an heir of heaven? As he stands by the forecastle, goes aloft among the rigging, or watches with eager eye the far-off beacon, has he not reason sadly to say, "No man careth for my soul!" ON BRIDLING THE TONGUE. RESOLVED, by the grace of God, never to speak much, lest I often speak too much; and not to speak at all, rather than to no purpose; always to make my tongue and heart go together, so as never to speak with the one what I do not think in the other; always to speak of other men's sins only before their faces, and of their virtues only behind their backs.-Bishop Beveridge. vice? And drink, the great cause of waste in poor men's houses-expenditure on that which not only wastes a man's substance, but ruins his moral and physical capacities, and we have reached a point of discomfort beyond which we can not go. Drink is the demon and the curse of tens of thousands of homes, which but for it might be happy. But there are many minor sources of discomfort, which worry and fret impatient minds, and render homes thoroughly uncomfortable. Ill-trained children, unaccustomed because untaught by early discipline to curb their little tempers, are a source of discomfort to many homes. The neglect, perhaps the ignorance, of mothers, themselves ill-disciplined in youth, is mainly to be blamed for this. Ill-cooked meals-here is another source of discomfort perhaps a small one. But not so small either. Bad cooking is waste; waste of money and loss of comfort. Whom God has joined in matrimony, ill-cooked joints of meat and ill-boiled potatoes have very often put asunder. There is, indeed, a sound economy which may be exercised by women in the culinary department, very much to the saving of their husband's purses as well as tempers. Among the "common things" which educators would teach the working people, certainly this ought not to be overlooked. It is the commonest and yet most neglected of the branches of female education. Perhaps it is even thought beneath the dignity of being called "a branch" of education at all. But cooking, which really is the art, when properly cultivated, of making a little go a great way, is infinitely more valuable and important to the comfort of homes than tambourwork, crotchet, netting, or backstitch-not to speak of music and drawing. The art of cooking eclipses them all in point of value. An unwholesome house is always uncomfortable. The atmosphere is depressing to the spirits, and it debilitates the frame. Its influence may not be felt or perceptible-excepting by our sense- —that of smell—and yet it is most powerful. Even the temper becomes peevish and irritable; and the depression leads to a craving for stimulants, which in its turn leads to an aggravation of the evil. Children become querulous, sickly, and complaining; how can they be cheerful, breathing poisoned air, as they often do? The children cry, poor things, finding vent in tears and sobs; they are beaten, when they should be sent out in the open air, or, later in the evening, put to bed. And thus the home is made very uncomfortable.. These unfortunate children-how our heart pities them! Brought into the world helpless, they are left amidst the gloomy associations of depravity, dirt, and disease; and they hang about the sordid dwelling an infant brood, imparting no joy to the home-only so many gaping mouths to be fed-increasing its squalor and discomfort. Often they are cuffed and scolded for no fault of their own; the ill-temper engendered by dirt and drink is visited severely upon them. Tolerable tempers are made bad, and bad tempers are rendered cruel; and thus they grow up to mature years with the stamp of savage life upon them, without any idea of the comforts of home; familiar with the spectacle of habitual brutality and daily recurring vice. woes-grumbling at the maids-finding cause of alarm in every thing-such people rarely fail in making homes intolerable, and driving forth those who had hoped for, and who were entitled to find, peace and repose therein. TH MASCULINE AND FEMININE. HERE are certain nouns with which notions of strength, vigor, and the like qualities, are more particularly connected; and these are the neuter substantives which are figuratively rendered masculine. On the other hand, beauty, amiability, and so forth, are held to invest words with a feminine character. Thus, the sun is said to be masculine, and the moon feminine. But for our own part-and our view is confirmed by the discoveries of astronomy-we believe that the sun is called masculine, from his supporting and sustaining the moon, and finding her the wherewithal to shine away as she does at night, when all quiet people are in bed; and from his being obliged to keep such a family of stars besides. The moon, we think, is accounted feminine because she is thus maintained and kept up in her splendor, like a fine lady, by her husband, the sun. Furthermore, the moon is continually changing, on which account alone she might be referred to the feminine gender. The earth is feminine, tricked out as she is with gems and flowers. Cities and towns are likewise feminine, because there are as many windings, turnings, and little odd corners in them, as there are in the female mind. A ship is feminine, inasmuch as she is blown about by every wind. Virtue is feminine by courtesy. Fortune and misfortune, like mother and daughter, are both feminine. The Church is feminine, because she is married to the state, or married to the state because she is feminine-we do not know which. Time is masculine, because he is so trifled with by the ladies. RELIGIOUS COAST TRADE. In better circles homes may be made intoleraIT has been said that men carry on a kind of ble in other ways. Peevish and querulous tem- coasting trade with religion. In the voyage of pers spoil the repose of many households. "Bet-life they profess to be in search of heaven, but ter is a dinner of herbs where peace is than a stalled ox with contention." There are people who are always making a fuss, and will not let you be quiet; these have the knack of making even dining and drawing-rooms intolerable. They are as unwholesome as even a room full of bad air could be. Moping and whining-discovering all manner of frets, and aches, and imaginary VOL. XV.-43 take care not to venture so far in their approximations to it as entirely to lose sight of the earth; and should their frail vessel be in danger of shipwreck, they will gladly throw their darling views overboard, as other mariners their treasures, only to fish them up again when the storm is over. Humiliating acknowledgment is this, but its truth is too obvious to admit of denial or controversy. A CHAPTER ON FLORAL SUPERSTITIONS BY MRS. C. A. WHITE. charms and spells against almost all sorts of imaginary evils. The spring and summer festivals and proces T is difficult, at a first glance, to comprehend sions, which made almost a continual holiday in its shadows with these fair ornaments of earth— | these sun-loving surface-dwellers on heaths and hill-sides-these playthings and insignia of childhood and festivity! We can only surmise, in the instance of flowers, as in that of precious | stones, that the belief in their magical properties must have originated in the polytheism of the ancients, which, subsequent to the dying out of the pure theism of the pre-Arkites, appears to have permeated more or less the religion of all races of men, and to have gradually extended the idea of divinity from the two great luminaries to every object in nature that they shone upon, till woods, and streams, and mountains became imbued with celestial attributes; and the climax of this idealization of nature was reached, when the ancient Romans gave to every faculty of mind and body, every object in the material, every suppositious propriety of the imaginary world, a presiding deity, and good or evil influ ences. The peculiar consecration of flowers in all the religious rites of the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans-the dedication of certain kinds of them to individual divinities-of the red rose to Venus; of the white to Cybele; of the lily to Juno; of corn-flowers and poppies to Ceres, and nodding daffodils to Proserpine; of the bay-tree to Apollo; of the olive to Minerva; of the oak to Jupiter-whom the Gauls are said to have worshiped under this form-of the vine and ivy to Baschus; of the sacred vervain to every altar, whether raised in honor of the celestial or infernal deities are so many proofs of the antiquity of the veneration in which the floral and sylvan offspring of the earth were held. And to this semi-religious feeling, conjoined to the knowledge of their medical virtues, we may doubtless refer the occult powers ascribed to many species even in comparatively modern times. The classic poets, from Homer down to Virgil and Horace, abound with allusions to the use of plants in magic spells and incantations; and reference is constantly made to the same attributes by the early writers on natural history and herb alism. The introduction of many of the Roman rites and ceremonies into the Christian Church, continued the religious use of flowers, and conserved, to the dark and ignorant multitude, the idea of their sacred properties and potency as medical season, had their reflections in every town and village of Great Britain at the same period of the year. The Lent lilies that garlanded the shrine of the Virgin at Candlemas, had shone, of old, at the Anthesphora of the Greeks, and on Roman altars in honor of Ceres' search for Proserpine, whose flying footsteps she had tracked upon Mount Etna by these scattered blossoms; the Ambervalia had its type in the processions of Rogation week; the Floralia lived again upon Mayday; and though St. Winefred might claim the well-dressings in the lake country, the Naiades of old had worn her chaplets. Far from repudiating the ceremonies and superstitions connected with flowers, Catholicism nursed them for her own, and each particular plant, sacred in Pagan times to the presiding auspices of one or other of the Olympian powers, was passed over, with all its antique attributes, to the credit of some canonized name upon the Romish calendar. The monks transcribed to their manuscripts the fables of the ancients, which their credulity, in the absence of practical knowledge, made them accept as truths, and thus-becoming mingled with the traditions of the people—the marvels of Pliny, though sometimes shrewdly queried by old Gerarde, were not all discredited even at a later date. Perhaps a higher degree of antiquity appertains to the use of vervain-verbena officinales— in religious ceremonies, than to any other plant we know of. In Pagan times, not only were its solitary stems, with their deep-cut leaves and slender spikes of grayish flowers, gathered for the use of the "sprinklers," who commenced the sacred rites of the Romans by sprinkling the altar and sacrifice with consecrated water, but wreaths of it were made for the priests, and brooms and garlands for the altar; it also chapleted the necks of the victims, and crowned the sacred fecials who proclaimed war or peace. In all likelihood, it was equally venerated by the Egyptians, in whose temples the Druids are said to have studied theology and medicine; for we find the vervain consecrated to the same purposes in Britain, at a period antecedent to its invasion by the Romans. So sacred was it held by these priests of the plains and forests, that an oblation was poured out on the earth before depriving her of it; and it was dug in the center of a sword |