jaguar, the rarest and most terrible of the forest kings. Of one? But of which? Was it Ayacanora? And sword in hand, Amyas rushed madly forward: before he reached the spot those tortured limbs were still.

It was not Ayacanora; for with a shriek which rang through the woods, the wretched dreamer, wakened thus at last, sprang up and felt for his sword. Fool! he had left it in his hammock! Screaming the name of his dead bride, he rushed on the jaguar, as it crouched above its prey, and seizing its head with teeth and nails, worried it, in the ferocity of his madness, like a mastiff dog.

The brute wrenched its head from his grasp, and raised its dreadful paw. Another moment, and the husband's corpse would have lain by the wife's. But high in air gleamed Amyas's blade ; down, with all the weight of his huge body and strong arm, fell that most trusty steel; the head of the jaguar dropped grinning on its victim's corpse :

And all stood still, who saw him fall,

While men might count a score.

148. THE BULL-FIGHT.

In costly sheen, and gaudy cloak array'd,
But all afoot, the light-limbed Matadore
Stands in the centre, eager to invade

The lord of lowing herds; but not before

Charles Kingsley.

The ground, with cautious tread, is travers'd o'er,
Lest aught unseen should lurk to thwart his speed:
His arms a dart, he fights aloof, nor more
Can man achieve without the friendly steed—
Alas! too oft condemn'd for him to bear and bleed.
Thrice sounds the clarion; lo! the signal falls,
The den expands, and expectation mute
Gapes round the silent circle's peopled walls.
Bounds with one lashing spring the mighty brute,
And, wildly staring, spurns, with sounding foot,
The sand, nor blindly rushes on his foe :
Here, there, he points his threatening front, to suit
His first attack, wide waving to and fro

His angry tail; red rolls his eye's dilated glow.

Sudden he stops; his eye is fix'd: away,
Away, thou heedless boy! prepare the spear:
Now is thy time to perish or display

The skill that yet may check his mad career.
With well-timed croup the nimble coursers veer;
On foams the bull, but not unscathed he goes;
Streams from his flank the crimson torrent clear:
He flies, he wheels, distracted with his throes;

Dart follows dart; lance, lance; loud bellowings speak his wocs.

Again he comes: nor dart nor lance avail,
Nor the wild plunging of the tortured horse;
Though man and man's avenging arms assail,
Vain are his weapons, vainer is his force.
One gallant steed is stretch'd a mangled corse;
Another, hideous sight! unseam'd appears,
His gory chest unveils life's panting source.

Though death-struck, still his feeble frame he rears;
Stagg'ring, but stemming all, his lord unharm'd he bears.

Foil'd, bleeding, breathless, furious to the last,
Full in the centre stands the bull at bay,

'Mid wounds, and clinging darts and lances brast,
And foes disabled in the brutal fray :

And now the Matadores around him play,
Shake the red cloak, and poise the ready brand :
Once more thro' all he bursts his thundering way—
Vain rage! the mantle quits the cunning hand,
Wraps his fierce eye-'tis past-he sinks upon the sand!
Where his vast neck just mingles with the spine,
Sheathed in his form the deadly weapon lies.
He stops he starts-disdaining to recline:
Slowly he falls, amidst triumphant cries,
Without a groan, without a struggle dies.
The decorated car appears-on high

The corse is pil'd-sweet sight for vulgar eyes.—
Four steeds that spurn the rein, as swift as shy,

Hurl the dark bulk along, scarce seen in dashing by.—Byron.

Q

149. GEOLOGY AND HISTORY.

We often discover with surprise, on looking back into the chronicles of nations, how the fortune of some battle has influenced the fate of millions of our contemporaries, when it has long been forgotten by the mass of the population. With this remote event we may find inseparably connected the geographical boundaries of a great state, the language now spoken by the inhabitants, their peculiar manners, laws, and religious opinions. But far more astonishing and unexpected are the connections brought to light when we carry back our researches into the history of nature. The form of a coast, the configuration of the interior of a country, the existence and extent of lakes, valleys, and mountains can often be traced to the former prevalence of earthquakes and volcanoes in regions which have long been undisturbed. To these remote convulsions the present fertility of some districts, the sterile character of others, the elevation of land above the sea, the climate, and various peculiarities, may be distinctly referred. On the other hand, many distinguishing features of the surface may often be ascribed to the operation, at a remote era, of slow and tranquil causes-to the gradual deposition of sediment in a lake or in the ocean, or to the prolific increase of testacea and corals.

To select another example; we find in certain localities subterranean deposits of coal, consisting of vegetable matter formerly drifted into seas and lakes. These seas and lakes have since been filled up; the lands whereon the forest grew have disappeared or changed their form; the rivers and currents which floated the vegetable masses can no longer be traced; and the plants belonged to species which for ages have passed away from the surface of our planet. Yet the commercial prosperity and numerical strength of a nation may now be mainly dependent on the local distribution of fuel determined by that ancient state of things.

Geology is intimately related to almost all the physical sciences, as history is to the moral. A historian should, if possible, be at once profoundly acquainted with ethics, politics, jurisprudence, the military art, theology, in a word, with all branches of knowledge by which any insight into human affairs,

or into the moral and intellectual nature of man, can be obtained. It would be no less desirable that a geologist should be well versed in chemistry, natural philosophy, mineralogy, zoology, comparative anatomy, botany, in short, in every science relating to organic and inorganic nature. With these accomplishments the historian and geologist would rarely fail to draw correct philosophical conclusions from the various monuments transmitted to them of former occurrences. They would know to what combination of causes analogous effects were referable, and they would often be enabled to supply, by inference, information concerning many events unrecorded in the defective archives of former ages. But as such extensive acquisitions are scarcely within the reach of any individual, it is necessary that men who have devoted their lives to different departments should unite their efforts; and, as the historian receives assistance from the antiquary, and from those who have cultivated different branches of moral and political science, so the geologist should avail himself of the aid of many naturalists, and particularly of those who have studied the fossil remains of lost species of animals and plants.—Sir Charles Lyell.

150. PARIS PENCILLINGS.

Bohemia-in-Paris.

Dear Sir,-According to your wish that I should keep my eye on the British tourist in Paris, I beg to state that I have had only too many opportunities of studying him. I am at present copying in the Louvre, where he most doth congregate. He comes in swarms, and settles round your easel-stands in your light-criticises your work—makes remarks on your attire, &c.—upsets your turpentine, and-vanishes! You will naturally ask, 'Do these people not see you are English, that they so coolly criticise you?' No; the beauty of it is, they don't recognise the elegant and refined Potts in the person of a brigand in a felt hat and Wellington boots! Again, you will ask, 'Why have you adopted this eccentric costume?' Sir, it is for the very reason of not wishing to appear eccentric, or to look peculiar, that I have adopted it. Living in the society of Parisian students it would never do to dress like a rational being. Were I to wear my hair a decent length, I should be

the laughing-stock of a whole atelier-did they but know I ever combed it, I should be scouted from all Beaux-Arts society.

My beard I have let grow wherever it will. (Do you laugh at our beard?) An immense Rubenesque sombrero hat is stuck jauntily in my mouth, and a clay pipe is thrown carelessly on the side of my head. (There is some mistake in the foregoing -please correct.) My coat is seedy on the outside, the lining is dying a natural death on the inside; it is torn in several places, for, unlike the old gentleman in Millais' picture, my time is not much taken up in 'sewing tears.' My boots I wear over my trousers. I have adopted a sort of slangy, shuffling gait. I carry a large wooden paint-box, and I sing popular melodies when walking in the street, which singing consists of a chronic 'yodel,' like a hobbledehoy's voice in a transition state.

I

Attired thus, I wend my way towards the Louvre. On arriving, the first thing to do is to look about for a good easel and carpet that have been carefully put away by somebody else. If you can't find one, lay hands on stool, easel, and carpet of some poor wretch who has gone to déjeûner, and bear them off bodily to your place. When, on his return, he finds the whole paraphernalia disappeared, he can't accuse you, as in all probability he procured them in the same manner. One plan is to paint your initials in large and conspicuous characters on both easel and stool, but, as nearly all the students practise this, some difficulty might arise as to who was the lawful owner. will just give you an idea of a quiet morning's work. Supposing I have just begun in charcoal. Enter to me English family-pa, ma, two daughters, and one son. cal, chokery, pompous, portly, and portwiney. strict, Sunday-schoolish, and soup-tickety. pink, proper, booky, and bread-and-buttery. The son, fourteen, fat and freckly, with a tall hat and short jacket. All crowd round. Pa clears his throat, and commences a long jobation on painting in general, from the early ages down to the present time. All listen attentively, except puffy son, who is staring hard at a stout lady with a fish's tail, in one of Rubens' pictures. He is reprimanded for not paying attention, and pa continues. He informs me that this person (meaning me, sir) is copying a Titian (it being a Rembrandt), 'a painter that was much thought of in his time,' though he (pa) must confess that his

The pa is cleriThe ma, sharp, The daughters,