round spot of full buff at the tip. Primaries slightly tipped with white. All the tail-feathers with buffy white terminations. Under parts grayish white. Flank-feathers zig-zagged, with faint transverse light brown lines. Bill and feet dusky brown. At the corner of the mouth, the bare, thick, fleshy, prominent skin, is of a pinky flesh color, and the irides are dark brown. "The rosy frill adorns the adults of both sexes; but the young male and female of the year have it not. "Another species, the great bower-bird, was probably the architect of the bowers found by Captain Gray during his Australian rambles, and which interested him greatly, in consequence of the doubts entertained by him whether they were the works of a bird or of a quadruped-the inclination of his mind being, that their construction was due to the four-footed animal. They were formed of dead grass and parts of bushes, sunk a slight depth into two parallel furrows, in sandy soil, and were nicely arched above; they were always full of broken sea-shells, large heaps of which also protruded from the extremity of the bower. In one of these bowers, the most remote from the sea of those discovered by Captain Gray, was a heap of the stones of some fruit that had evidently been rolled therein. He never saw any animal in or near these bowers; but the abundant droppings of a small species of kangaroo close to them, induced him to suppose them to be the work of some quadruped. Here, then, we have a race of birds, whose ingenuity is not merely directed to the usual ends of existence-self-preservation, and the continuation of the species-but to the elegancies and amusements of life. Their bowers are their ball and assembly rooms; and we are very much mistaken if they are not like those places of meeting, For whispering lovers made. "The male satin bower-bird, in the garden at the Regent's Park, is indefatigable in his assiduity towards the female; and his winning ways to coax her into the bower, conjure up the notion that the soul of some Damon, in the course of its transmigration, has found its way into his elegant form. He picks up a brilliant feather, flits about with it before her, and when he has caught her eye, adds it to the decorations. "No enchanted prince could act the deferential lover with more delicate or graceful attention. Poor fellow; the pert, intruding sparrows plague VOL. XX. 13 him abominably; and really it becomes almost an affair of police, that some measures should be adopted for their exclusion. He is subject to fits, too, and suddenly, without the least apparent warning, falls senseless, like an epileptic patient; but presently recovers, and busies himself about the bower. When he has induced the female to enter it, he seems greatly pleased; alters the disposition of a feather or a shell, as if hoping that the change may meet her approbation; and looks at her as she sits coyly under the over-arching twigs, and then at the little arrangement which he has made, and then at her again, till one could almost fancy that one hears him breathe a sigh. He is still in his transition dress, and has not yet donned his full Venetian suit of black." POETIC DICTION. THE following is from an Appendix to the Preface to the second edition of Wordsworth's 'Lyrical Ballads," published in 1800; the subject under discussion is Poetic Diction. 66 The earliest poets of all nations generally wrote from passion excited by real events; they wrote naturally and as men; feeling powerfully as they did, their language was daring and figurative. In succeeding time, poets, and men ambitious of the fame of poets, perceiving the influence of such language, and desirous of producing the same effect without being animated with the same passion, set themselves to a mechanical adoption of these figures of speech, and made use of them, sometimes with propriety, but much more frequently applied them to feelings and thoughts with which they had no natural connection whatsoever. A language was thus insensibly produced, differing materially from the real language of men in any situation. The reader or hearer of this distorted language found himself in a perturbed and unusual state of mind; when affected by the genuine language of passion, he had been in a perturbed and unusual state of mind also; in both cases he was willing that his common judgment and understanding should be laid asleep, and he had no instinctive and infallible perception of the true to make him reject the false; the one served as a passport for the other. The emotion was in both cases delightful, and no wonder if he confounded the one with the other, and believed them both to be produced by the same, or simi lar means. Besides, the poet spake to him in the character of a man to be looked up to, a man of genius and authority. Thus, and from a variety of other causes, this distorted language was received with admiration; and poets, it is probable, who had before contented themselves for the most part with misapplying only expressions which at first had been dictated by real passion, carried the abuse still further, and introduced phrases composed apparently in the spirit of the original figurative language of passion, yet altogether of their own invention, and characterized by various degrees of wanton deviation from good sense and nature.-Perhaps in no way, by positive example, could be more easily given a notion of what I mean by the phrase poetic diction, than by referring to a comparison between the metrical paraphrases which we have of passages in the Old and New Testament, with those passages as they exist in our common translation. By way of immediate example, take the following of Dr. Johnson : Turn on the prudent ant thy heedless eyes, From this hubbub of words pass to the original. 'Go to the ant, thou sluggard, consider her ways and be wise; which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, provideth her meat in the Summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest. How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard? when wilt thou arise out of thy sleep? Yet a little sleep, yet a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep. So shall thy poverty come as one that traveleth, and thy want as an armed man.'" "We are heart-sick of scholastic theology, and sigh for the coming of a day when Christians will take the facts of the Gospel as they take the facts of nature. We yearn for a genuine biblical realism." BRAIN MODIFIED BY HABIT. WE gave, a while since, an extract from an excellent lecture on the Education of the Brain by Dr. Ray of Rhode Island, and in addition would commend the following thoughts from another superintendent of the Insane-Dr. Fornerden of Maryland. "The right growth of the brain in childhood is promoted or hindered by the habits which are formed in the nursery. Happy is that infant whose mother is its nurse; thrice happy, if the mother has faith in useful knowledge and applies it diligently to the gentle training of the bodily functions. The infant is an animal, born with the faculty of becoming rational. He may be so ignorantly managed that this glorious faculty will be almost extinguished; or he may have the blessed advantage of an infantile education which will lay the foundation of goodness, intelligence, usefulness and every virtue, the active exercise of which is necessary to make a human being more and more rational in his progressive pilgrimage on earth. "It is not so necessary that a mother should know what others have to say of rules for the proper discipline of her little pupil, as it is that she should well understand the end which is ever to be kept in her mind as a ray of light from heaven to guide her, namely, so to take care of and prepare the corporeal habits of the child as to qualify the body to be a good instrument for the use of the mind. Nor is the mother to be left unaided in the nursery. The father's duties are as important, if not as uninterrupted as the mother's. Besides contributing his best thoughts to the service of the young being, to whom he has transmitted a share of his own mental and bodily qualities, he ought by his habits of affection and attention to aim to bend the instinctive and capricious habits of his offspring into harmony and order. "When both parents unite their endeavors to learn how to fulfill so noble an end, the way of improvement, in their knowledge of the details of what is to be done, is revealed to them as circumstances arise, by the Source of all Wis dom. "Every habit which a child acquires, has its own natural effect on the brain, and modifies it for good or for ill. This is true from the earliest age of infancy. If the habits are allowed to be of spontaneous development, and to remain not directed, or not bent into order by the rational mind of an adult, then it must happen that these habits, being merely of an instinctive or animal nature, their influence on the germ-mind and brain will be to keep them in the state of animal mind and brain, and the faculty of becoming rational will be as it were covered in a grave. "Any thoughtful observer of what transpires in the conduct of young children may see a thousand illustrations of the principle that a habit affects a child's mind favorably or unfavorably. Notice a child's face-expression in any instance when the child is in the act of indulging a bad habit, however simple and harmless that habit may appear to be; as for example, sucking a thumb, biting the nails, or twirling the hair with the fingers, and you will see a clear indication of a state of mind and brain very far from being as intellectual and beautiful as that always noticeable when the child is in an act proceeding from a good habit. If single acts are thus demonstrably attended with visible modifications of the influence flowing from the brain into the face, how plain is it that a succession of acts pertaining to a good habit, will give to the brain a permanent habit of order in its progressive formation, and in its functions, precisely in the ratio in which there is an absence of all wrong habits. "The principal portion of the decalogue is a warning to men not to practice sinful habits. For they debase the mind-debase the brainand then the brain being thus debased, the mind becomes still more so, until the rational faculty falls into the insane and deadly embrace of the untamed animal propensities. "How to bend the habits of children into order is a science and art, to be thoroughly learned in the steady and rational experience only of a mind that is bending its own habits aright in obedience to the Divine Will. SPEAK TO THEM OF GOD. O! EARLY teach the young to know Impress upon their youthful minds How much of love they owe To Him who guides their infant ways, In every sphere of human life important changes and revolutions have been effected in consequence of the use of small means. A single word when spoken may result in the happiness or misery of some child of humanity for life. A word once spoken, or an act once committed, can never be recalled; and the influence of that word or act may be felt long years after we have been forgotten. If we were to enter the darkest dens of infamy and vice, we might trace the present misery and wretchedness of its occupants to some slight first cause: "A word, a look, has dashed to earth A simple whisper derogatory to the character of an individual, may prove sufficient to strip off from him the adorning beauties of innocence and virtue. Multitudes are now suffering from neglect, ill treatment and abuse, brought about by imaginary suspicions, coined into one word of slinder. Numerous evils that now afflict the race of man, may be traced to some trifling cause. On the part of the intemperate, it is but a little thing to place the intoxicating cup to their lips. When this step is taken, it is looked upon as a trifling matter; but by constant indulgence an appetite is created which must be gratified at all hazards. The confirmed inebriate will deny himself of food, raiment, health, and the blessings of a happy and virtuous life,— simply to gratify this unnatural appetite. Thus some of the most brilliant minds and generous hearts have fallen and bound themselves in the most abject slavery, from the indulgence of what they termed little things. The statesman, and the good and distinguished of every class, have fallen from their high eminence to rise no more, by placing the intoxicating poison to their lips. If we would escape the misery and wretchedness that afflicts so many of our race, we must avoid the practice of trifling wiles and sins. One profane word, one fraudulent deed, or one fit of intoxication, may pave the way to ruin and disgrace. The practice of trifling virtues and acts of kindness are equally wonderful in their results. But how little is this consideration realized by the great mass of humanity! With some, an act of benevolence is of no importance, unless it is as compared with some grand display, that gives the alarm, " See what I can do." When we turn to the examples of our Savior, we learn quite a different lesson. He gives us the assurance that whoever may give a cup of cold water only, in his name, shall in no wise lose his reward. It was a little thing for Jesus to moisten the clay, and apply the same to the eyes of a man that was blind; but the result of this act restored his sight, and introduced him to the beauties of creation. It was a little thing for him to take the cold hand of the only son of the widow of Nain in his own, and say "Arise!" yet this was sufficient to restore him to life and fill the heart of the mourning mother with thanksgiving and praise. Thus the deeds of love, performed by the Savior of the world, appear to us like little things of themselves, but the result shows that they were unparalleled in their influence for good. From the brief illustrations given of the importance of trifling acts of kindness and love, it should encourage every heart to add their mite to the great sum of human happiness. A kind word gently spoken to the child of destitution, want and despondency, may prove valuable in giving new life to slumbering energies, and thereby light up the soul with the radiance of heavenly love and purity. Multitudes can this day testify to the astonishing results of trifling deeds of sympathy and love upon the human heart. They fall like the gentle dews of heaven upon the drooping flowers, and revive a new life within. Under the gentle breath of sympathy and kindness the barren and desolate heart grows in heavenly beauty and love. Go where we may, and we shall never find a soul so degraded but what it may be reached by the influence of fraternal sympathy. The first trifling act performed may prove insufficient to penetrate through the crust of sin; but by a repetition of this, the dormant sensibilities are quickened into life and purified. Such has been the result of little acts of love; therefore, AT an early period in the history of Holland, a boy was born in Haarlem, a town remarkable for its variety of fortune in war, but happily still more so for its manufactories and inventions in peace. His father was a sluicer-that is, one whose employment it was to open and shut the sluices, or large oak-gates which placed at certain regular distances, close the entrance of the canals, and secure Holland from the danger to which it seems exposed, of finding itself under water, rather than above it. When water is wanted, the sluicer raises the sluices more or less, as required, as the cook turns the cock of a fountain, and closes them again carefully at night; otherwise the water would flow into the canale, then overflow them, and inundate the whole country; so that even the little children in Holland are fully aware of the importance of a punctual discharge of the sluicer's duties. The boy was about eight years old when, one day, he asked permission to take some cakes to a poor blind man, who lived at the other side of the dyke. His father gave him leave, but charged him not to stay too late. The child promised, and set off on his little journey. The blind man thankfully partook of his young friend's cakes, and the boy, mindful of his father's orders, did not wait, as usual, to hear one of the old man's stories, but as soon as he had seen him eat one muffin, took leave of him to return home. As he went along by the canals, then quite full, for it was in October, and the autumn rains had swelled the waters, the boy now stopped to pull the little blue flowers which his mother loved so well, and, now, in childish gaiety, hummed some merry song. The road gradually became more solitary, and soon neither the joyous shout of the villager, returning to his cottagehome, nor the rough voice of the carter, grumbling at his lazy horses, was any longer to be heard. The little fellow now perceived that the blue of the flowers in his hand was scarcely distinguishable from the green of the surrounding herbage, and he looked up in some dismay. The night was falling; not, however, a dark winter night, but one of those beautiful, clear, moonlight nights, in which every object is perceptible, though not as distinctly as by day. The child thought of his father, of his injunctions, and he was preparing to quit the ravine in which he was almost buried, and to regain the beach, when suddenly a slight noise, like the trickling of water upon pebbles, attracted his attention. He was near one of the large sluices, and he now carefully examined it, and soon discovered a hole in the wood, through which the water was flowing. With the instant perception which every child in Holland would have, the boy saw that the water must soon enlarge the hole through which it was now only dropping, and that utter and general ruin would be the consequence of the inundation of the country that must follow. To see, to throw away the flowers, to climb from stone to stone till he reached the hole, and to put his finger into it, was the work of a moment, and, to his delight, he finds that he has succeeded in stopping the flow of the water. This was all very well for a little while, and the child thought only of the success of his device. But the night was closing in, and with the night came the cold. The little boy looked around in vain. No one came. He shoutedhe called loudly-no one answered. He resolved to stay there all night, but alas! the cold was becoming every moment more biting, and the poor finger fixed in the hole began to feel benumbed, and the numbness soon extended to the hand, and thence throughout the whole arm. The pain became still greater, still harder to bear, but still the boy moved not. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought of his father, of his mother, of his little bed, where he might now be sleeping so soundly; but still the little fellow stirred not, for he knew that did he remove the small slender finger which he had opposed to the escape of the water, not only would he himself be drowned, but his father, his brothers, his neighbors-nay, the whole village. We know not what faltering of purpose, what momentary failures of courage there might have been during that long and terrible night; but certain it is, that at daybreak he was found in the same painful position by a clergyman returning from attendance on a death-bed, who, as he advanced, thought he heard groans, and bending over the dyke, discovered a child seated on a stone, writhing from pain, and with pale face and tearful eyes. "In the name of wonder, boy," he exclaimed, "what are you doing there?" "I am hindering the water from running out," was the answer, in perfect simplicity, of the child, who, during that whole night had been evincing such heroic fortitude and undaunted courage. The Muse of History, too often blind to true glory, has handed down to posterity many a warrior, the destroyer of thousands of his fellow-men -she has left us in ignorance of the name of this real little hero of Haarlem. [Sharp's Magazine-England.] THE SPIRIT SACRIFICE. A CHIPPEWAY LEGEND. It was midsummer,-and there was a terrible plague in the wilderness. Many a Chippeway village on the borders of Lake Superior had been depopulated. The only band of the great northern nation which had thus far escaped, was the one whose hunting grounds lay on the northern shore of the St. Mary's River, at the principal village of which, the chiefs and warriors of the tribe were assembled in council. Incantations had for many days been performed, and nightly tidings were received, showing that the disease was sweeping fearfully in its course. The signs in the sky also convinced the poor Indians that their days were numbered. They knew that the plague had been sent upon the earth by the Great Spirit, as a punishment for some crime, and they also knew that there was but one thing that could possibly appease his anger. What was it? The sacrifice of the most beautiful girl of her tribe. And such was the decree, that she should enter her canoe, and throwing away her paddle, cast herself upon the waters. Morning dawned, and loud and dismal was the wail of sorrow which broke upon the silent air. Another council was held, and the victim for the sacrifice was selected; an only child, her mother a widow. The maiden uttered not a repining word about her own fate. The girls and women of the village flocked around their loved companion, and decked her hair and neck with bright wampum and the most beautiful feathers and shells. The time appointed for the sacrifice was the sunset hour. The day had been one of uncommon splendor, and as the sun descended to the horizon, a retinue of gorgeous clouds gathered around him, and the great lake was covered with a deeper blue than had ever before been seen. All things were now ready, and the Indian |