sions must be one who cannot walk without a slave under each arm to support her, and a perfect beauty is a load for a camel. In consequence of this prevalent taste for unwieldiness, the Moorish ladies take great pains to acquire it early in life; and for this purpose many of the young girls are compelled by their mothers to devour a great quantity of boiled corn, and drink a large bowl of camel's milk every morning. It is of no importance whether the girl has an appetite or not the food and milk must be swallowed, and obedience is frequently enforced by blows. I have seen a poor girl sit crying with a bowl at her lips for more than an hour, and her mother with a stick in her hand watching her all the while, using the stick without mercy whenever she saw that her daughter was not swallowing. This singular practice, instead of producing indigestion and disease, soon covers the young lady with that degree of plumpness which, in the eye of a Moor, is perfection itself.

THE NORMAN BARON.

In his chamber, weak and dying,
Was the Norman Baron lying;
Loud without the tempest thundered,
And the castle turret shook.

In this fight was Death the gainer,
Spite of vassal and retainer,

And the lands his sire had plundered,
Written in the Domesday Book.

By his bed a Monk was seated,
Who in humble voice repeated
Many a prayer and paternoster,

From the missal on his knee;

And, amid the tempest pealing,

Sounds of bells came faintly stealingBells that from the neighbouring cloister Rang for the nativity.

In the hall, the serf and vassal

Held, that night, their Christmas wassail Many a carol, old and saintly,

Sang the minstrel and the waits.
And so loud these Saxon gleemen
Sang to slaves the songs of freemen,
That the storm was heard but faintly,
Knocking at the castle gates.

Till at length the lays they chanted,
Reached the chamber terror-haunted,
Where the Monk, with accents holy,
Whispered at the Baron's ear.
Tears upon his eyelids glistened,
As he paused awhile and listened,
And the dying Baron slowly

Turned his weary head to hear.

'Wassail for the kingly Stranger,
Born and cradled in a manger!
King, like David, priest, like Aaron,
Christ is born to set us free!"
And the lightning showed the sainted
Figures on the casement painted,
And exclaimed the shuddering baron,
'Miserere, Domine ! "

66

In the hour of deep contrition,
He beheld with clearer vision,
Through all outward show and fashion,
Justice, the avenger, rise.

;

All the pomp of earth had vanished,
Falsehood and deceit were banished,
Reason spake more loud than passion,
And the truth wore no disguise.

Every vassal of his banner,

Every serf born to his manor—

All those wronged and wretched creatures
By his hand were freed again;

And, as on the sacred missal,
He recorded their dismissal,
Death relaxed his iron features,
And the Monk replied,

"Amen!"

Many centuries have been numbered,
Since in death the Baron slumbered,
By the convent's sculptured portal,

Mingling with the common dust;
But the good deed, through the ages
Living in historic pages,

Brighter glows and gleams immortal,
Unconsumed by moth or rust.

H. W. Longfellow.

GOLDSMITH AS A TRAVELLER.

It is a well-known fact that Goldsmith travelled on foot through several countries of Europe. He left England with very little money, and being strong in body and courageous in mind, resolved to see the manners of different countries. He had some knowledge of the French language and of music, and played tolerably well on the German flute, which, from an amusement, became at times the means of obtaining food and clothing. His learning produced him an

hospitable reception at most of the religious houses, and his music made him welcome to the peasants of Flanders and other parts of Germany.

"Whenever I approached a peasant's house," he used to say, "towards nightfall, I played one of my merriest tunes, and that procured me, not only lodgings, but subsistence for the next day. I must own, however, whenever I attempted to entertain persons of a higher rank, they always thought my performance odious, and never made any return for my endeavours to please them."

On Goldsmith's arrival at Geneva, he was recommended as a proper person for a travelling tutor to a young gentleman, who had been left a considerable sum of money by his uncle, formerly an eminent pawnbroker near Holborn. This youth, who had been articled to an attorney, on coming to his fortune determined to see the world; but on his engaging with his tutor, made a condition that he should be permitted to govern himself; and Goldsmith soon found his pupil understood the art of managing his money concerns extremely well, as avarice was his prevailing passion. His questions were usually how money might be saved, and which was the least expensive course of travel; whether anything could be bought that would turn to account when disposed of again in London. Such curiosities as on the way could be seen for nothing he was ready enough to look at, but if the sight of them was to be paid for, he usually asserted that he had been told they were not worth seeing. He never paid a bill without asserting how very expensive travelling was, and all this, though he was not yet twenty-one years of age. During Goldsmith's stay in Switzerland, he care

fully cultivated his poetical talents, of which he had given some striking proofs while at the college of Edinburgh. It was here that he sent the first sketch of his delightful poem, "The Traveller," to his brother, a clergyman in Ireland, who giving up fame and fortune, had retired with an amiable wife to happiness and obscurity, on an income of only £40 a year.

It was doubtless from his knowledge of this, and similar livings in the Irish church, that Goldsmith derived his beautiful picture of the country parson in the Deserted Village.

"A man he was to all the country dear,

And passing rich with forty pounds a year.
Remote from towns he ran his godly race,

Nor e'er had changed, or wished to change, his place."

From Geneva, Goldsmith and his pupil visited the south of France, where the young man, upon some disagreement with his tutor, paid him the part of his salary which was due, and embarked at Marseilles for England. Goldsmith was left once more upon the world at large, and passed through a variety of diffi culties in traversing the greater part of France. At length, his curiosity being satisfied, he bent his course towards England, and arrived at Dover at the beginning of the winter of 1758, with scarcely a shilling in his pocket.

POTATOES.

The potato plant is a native of the mountainous districts of central America, where it has been found in a wild state. It had been cultivated in America, and its root used for food, long before Columbus