THE ECCENTRIC NATURALIST. 66 the river, I observed a man landing from a boat, with what I thought a bundle of dried clover on his back. "How the boaten stare at him! Sure he must be an original." He ascended with a rapid step, and, approaching me, asked if I could point out the house in which Mr. Audubon resided. "Why, I am the man," said I, "and will gladly lead you to my dwelling." The traveler rubbed his hands together with delight, and, drawing a letter from his pocket, handed it to me without any remark. I broke the seal, and read as follows:-"My dear Audubon, I send you an odd fish, which you may prove to be undescribed, and hope you will do so in your next letter. Believe me always your friend, B." pearance; and, indeed, it was only as we WHAT an odd-looking fellow!" said With all the simplicity of a backwoodsman I asked the bearer where the odd fish was, when M. de T. (for, kind reader, the individual in my presence was none else than that renowned naturalist) smiled, rubbed his hands, and, with the greatest good humor, said: "I am that odd fish, I presume, Mr. Audubon." I felt confounded, and blushed, but contrived to stammer out an apology. We soon reached the house, when I presented my learned guest to my family, and was ordering a servant to go to the boat for M. de T.'s luggage, when he told me he had none but what he brought on his back. He then loosened the pack of weeds which had first drawn my attention. The ladies were a little surprised, but I checked their critical glances; for the moment the naturalist pulled off his shoes, and while engaged in drawing his stockings, not up, but down, in order to cover the holes about the heels, he told us, in the gayest mood imaginable, that he had walked a great distance, and had only taken a passage on board the ark to be put on this shore, and that he was sorry his apparel had suffered so much from his late journey. Clean clothes were offered, but he would not accept them; and it was with evident reluctance that he performed the lavations usual on such occasions, before he sat down to dinner. At table, however, his agreeable conversation made us all forget his singular apVOL. I, No. 3.-S He chanced to turn over the drawing of a plant quite new to him. After inspecting it closely he shook his head, and told me no such plant existed in nature; for, kind reader, M. de T., although a highly scientific man, was suspicious to a fault, and believed such plants only to exist as he had himself seen, or such as, having been discovered of old, had, according to Father Malebranche's expression, acquired a "venerable beard." I told my guest that the plant was common in the immediate neighborhood, and that I should show it him on the morrow. "And why to-morrow, Mr. Audubon ? let us go now." We did so, and on reaching the bank of the river, I pointed to the plant. M. de T. I thought had gone mad; he plucked the plants one after another, danced, hugged me in his arms, and exultingly told me that he had got not merely a new species, but a new genus. When we returned home the naturalist opened the bundle which he had brought on his back, and took out a journal, rendered waterproof by a leather case, together with a small parcel of linen, examined the new plant, and wrote its description. The examination of my drawings then went on. You would be pleased, kind reader, with his criticisms, which were of the greatest advantage to | me, for, being well acquainted with books, as well as with nature, he was well fitted to give me advice. It was summer, and the heat was so great that the windows were all open. The light of the candles attracted many insects, among which was observed a large species of scarabæus. I caught one, and, aware of his inclination to believe only what he should himself see, I showed him the insect, and assured him it was so strong that it could crawl on the table with the candlestick on its back. "I should like to see the experiment made, Mr. Audubon," he replied. It was accordingly made, and the insect moved about, dragging its burden, so as to make the candlestick change its position, as if by magic, until, coming upon the edge of the table, it dropped upon the floor, took to wing, and made its escape. When it waxed late I showed him to the apartment intended for him during his stay, and endeavored to render him comfortable, leaving him writing materials in abundance. I was indeed heartily glad to have a naturalist under my roof. We had all retired to rest; every person, I imagined, in deep slumber save myself, when, of a sudden, I heard a great uproar in the naturalist's room. I got up, reached | the place in a few moments, and opened the door, when, to my astonishment, I saw my guest running about the room naked, holding the handle of my favorite violin, the body of which he had battered to pieces against the walls, in attempting to kill the bats which had entered by the open window, probably attracted by the insects flying around his candle. I stood amazed, but he continued jumping and running round and round, until he was fairly exhausted, when he begged me to procure one of the animals for him, as he felt convinced they belonged to "a new species." Although I was convinced of the contrary, I took up the bow of my demolished cremona, and administering a smart tap to each of the bats, as it came up, soon got specimens enough. The war ended, I again bade him good-night, but could not help observing the state of the room; it was strewed with plants, which it would seem he had arranged into groups, but which were now scattered about in confusion. "Never mind, Mr. Audubon," quoth the eccentric naturalist, "never mind, I'll soon arrange them again. I have the bats; and that's enough!” Several days passed, during which we followed our several occupations: M. de T. searched the woods for plants, and I for birds. He also followed the margin of the Ohio, and picked up many shells, which he greatly extolled. With us, I told him, they were gathered into heaps, to be converted into lime. "Lime! Mr. Audubon,-why they are worth a guinea a-piece in any part of Europe." M. de T. remained with us for three weeks, and collected multitudes of plants, shells, bats, and fishes. We were perfectly reconciled to his oddities, and finding him a most agreeable and intelligent companion, hoped that his sojourn might be of long duration. But, one evening, when tea was prepared, and we expected him to join the family, he was nowhere to be found. His grasses, and other valuables, were all removed from his room. The night was spent in searching for him in the neighborhood. No eccentric naturalist could be discovered. Whether he had perished in a swamp, or had been devoured by a bear or a garfish, or had taken to his heels, were matters of conjecture: nor was it until some weeks after, that a letter from him, thanking us for our attention, assured me of his safety. HOW TO SUBDUE MAN.-In the course of a book just published, and which is entitled the Reveries of an Old Maid, we are told that the weapons to subdue man are not to be found in the library, but in the kitchen! "The weakest part of the alligator is his stomach. Man is an alligator. Let the young wife fascinate her husband with the teapot! Let her, so to speak, only bring him into habits of intoxication with that sweet charmer, and make honeysuckles clamber up his chair-back and grow about the legs of his table-let the hearthrug be a bed of heart's-ease for the feet in slippers, and the wickedness of the natural enemy must die within him." What excellent wives some of these old maids who write books would make! A PALM LEAVES. SELECT ORIENTAL TALES. II. ALMET'S VISION. S Almet, who watched the lamp at the grave of the Prophet, stood at the eastern door of the Temple, and prayed, he saw a man clad in costly robes, and attended by many followers, approach toward him. Almet went forth to meet the Stranger, and inquired if he sought him. "Almet," answered he," thou seest before thee a man who is rendered miserable by the gifts of fortune. All my wishes are fulfilled; I have the enjoyment of all earthly blessings in my grasp; and yet I am not happy. I lament the time past, because it passed unenjoyed; I have no hope for the future, because I know no real blessedness; yet I tremble at the thought of death. To pass away like the foam on the waves-to slumber beneath the vail of darkness-these are pictures before which my heart fails me. If thou, amongst the treasures of wisdom, canst find advice which will bring contentment and peace, let me participate in it for this am I come." Almet listened to the complaint of the Stranger with an expression of sympathy and sorrow; but his countenance soon regained its tranquillity. He lifted up his hands toward heaven, and said, "The Prophet hath instructed me in this matter; thou shalt learn his wisdom from my mouth. "I sat one day, as the sun was going down, alone and thoughtfully in the porch of the Temple, and gazed down the streets of the city, in which an innumerable company of pilgrims, of all degrees and nations, moved up and down, like the waves of the great sea. As I marked the anxiety with which the rich strove one against another, and the patient industry with which the poor bore heavy burdens, my heart was oppressed within me. 'Poor mortals,' I exclaimed, 'why are ye thus hurried? Ye seek happiness, but who among you find it? Can the glitter of precious stones satisfy the mind? Or, are your eyes blinded, that ye strive so unvariedly after deceitful brightness, which at each step recedes from your grasp? Which are happiest, the rich or the poor? In what enjoyment, in what pleasure, is contentment to be found? All is a dream! all is deception! Neither wisdom nor riches bring happiness: we are the sport of our desires, which drive us hither and thither, until the great sea of destruction overwhelms us!' "Thus said I to myself, and sighed; then I felt a strange hand touch me, and the streets of the holy city disappeared from my sight. I stood on the top of a high rock, and saw beside me a youth in white clothing; I was amazed at the brightness of his appearance, and closed my eyes with awe. "Almet," said he, 'I am Assoran, the messenger of instruction. It is known to me that thou hast dedicated thy life to wisdom and calm contemplation, that thus thou mightest warn thy brethren against the way of error; but now thou hast thyself erred, therefore look up, attend, and become wise!' "I lifted up my eyes, and saw a lovely meadow; it was beautiful as the garden of Paradise, but of small compass. Through the midst of it ran a green path, which, toward the west, was lost in a desert waste, over the outside boundary of which there lay a thick darkness, and hid it from view. Trees of every kind, bearing blossoms and fruit, overshadowed this path, and birds sang merrily among the branches. Beautiful flowers sprang up all around, and filled the air with their sweetness. On one side flowed a clear stream, gently murmuring over golden sand, which glittered through the rippled water; on the opposite side, rivulets, grottoes, and waterfalls, enlivened the scene, and were crowned by a gentle acclivity, which, however, did not conceal the boundary of the little field. "As my eyes dwelt with delight on this enchanting scene, I saw a man, richly attired, slowly and thoughtfully pacing along the path. His eyes were bent on the ground, his arms folded across his breast, and his face full of distrust and sorrow. A numerous train followed him, and appeared ready at the least sign to fulfill his commands. One gathered for him the finest fruit; another offered him a golden cup: but he ate and drank as though he heeded it not. The most beautiful fruit, which he had eagerly taken in his hand, he would throw away with indifference, having scarcely touched it with his lips. He laid himself down near the streams and waterfalls, as though he would listen to their gentle murmurs and to the song of the birds: but here also he found no rest. He threw himself now on one side, now on the other; then arose, and pursued his way with his former discontented deportment. At times, he would start, as if in alarm or pain; and when his eyes rested on the desert which lay before him, then would he totter back some steps, and try to return; but an unseen power led him, against his will, still nearer to the desert. "What may this vision mean?' I spoke, and turned to the Angel. He replied: The book of nature lies open before you; look on, and learn wisdom.' "I turned again, and saw a narrow valley, between bare and savage rocks; neither grass nor herb grew in its sandy waste. The sun's rays descended with burning heat upon the rocks, and the only stream which flowed from their sides soon disappeared in the hot sand. Except a few wild deer, which were leaping over the rocks, no living thing was visible in this desert; but toward the west, this wilderness lost itself in a fruitful country, full of trees, fields, and houses. My eye returned to the burning valley, and I saw a half-clad man, bearing on his back a slaughtered deer, climbing with difficulty the rocky heights. The sharp stones wounded his hands and feet, yet he heeded them not, but diligently ascended until he reached a cave, before which stood, awaiting him, a woman and four children. When the little ones saw the man, they called to him, stretched out their arms, and ran to the edge of the rock to meet him; they jumped joyously about him, and led him with shouts of delight to the cave, where he threw down his prey, and sat to rest with them in the shade. His face was thin and sun-burnt, but its expression was kind and peaceful. He laughed with his children as they wiped his hot brow with their little hands, and he seemed to forget in their joy how hard his toil had been. At times he gazed with quiet pleasure on the cheerful view which lay before him in the distance; he also pointed it out to the children as the abode of joy and peace. Still I did not perceive anything in his deportment which could lead me to believe that the beautiful prospect made him less contented with his rocky cave. "I gazed on, and rejoiced in the appearance of this man, who was happy in that barren desert. Then the Angel said to me: 'Observe, Almet, what thou hast seen. Contentment and Hope are daughters of Love. He who works not for the wellbeing of others, will never be happy himself. In the midst of superfluity misery will assail him. Thus thou hast seen the idle one in the field of pleasure: he did nothing for others; he lived for himself alone, and held as slaves those who worked for him therefore he could experience no pleasure. He heard not the song of the birds, he saw not the beauty of the flowers, he felt not the balmy air which surrounded him. He looked with dread upon the dark desert which lay beyond him, because he felt his own uselessness and nothingness. For how could he believe that his self-seeking and self-love would obtain for him any future reward? Must he not learn from that justice whose law is written in the human heart, that good deeds alone are rewarded, and await a stern judgment? "This poor man, on the contrary, works for his wife and children. The love which dwells in his heart makes him strong and of good courage. He bears his burden with cheerfulness; for the joy of his loved ones is reward enough for him. The love which produces self-sacrifice for others, feels their worth it hopes for a just recompense, and all that it hopes for itself it desires likewise for them; therefore it is that this poor man looks contentedly forward to the prospect which lies before him, without allowing the trials of his present situation, in which those he loves participate, to disturb his serenity. Thus has Eternal Wisdom placed true happiness in man's own hands. The idle and selfwilled, who live only to indulge pride and self-gratification, will never escape unrest and despair: whilst, on the other hand, to the self-denying man, to the good father, his children, and his people, joy will not be wanting, and they will look forward without doubtfulness to a better future.' "Whilst the heavenly messenger thus spoke, the vision disappeared from before my eyes; I awoke, and found myself alone in the porch of the Temple. The sun had gone down; the inhabitants of the city rested from their toil. I returned into the Temple by the light of the holy lamp, and thought over the vision which had passed before me. "Thus, my son," said Almet to the Stranger, "the Prophet instructed me in wisdom, not for my own advantage only, but also for thine. Thou hast, hitherto, lived only for thyself, and for thine own gratification; on that account thou hast found no real happiness. Thou hast had no hope in the future, because conscience, the unsparing judge, told thee thy deeds deserved no reward. Let not this lesson of the Prophet be lost to thee, like the rain which falls upon a barren rock; but go and practice what thou hast been taught. Become a father to thine own, and to thy people; clothe the naked with thy herds; feed the hungry from thy fields; be a friend to those who are oppressed by wrong; love mankind, and work their good. Thus shalt thou find contentment and hope; for never was the true heart of a loving father saddened by the melancholy belief that he and his are only as the foam upon the waves of the sea." Almet, his face glowing with benevolence, returned into the Temple, and the Stranger went on his way in peace. FIGARO'S SHOPS. BEFORE returning to our hotel we stopped at a barber's shop to get shaved. According to legendary report and general belief, this was the identical one occupied by the immortal Figaro of Beaumarchais, Mozart, and Rossini. Such being its associations, who could resist the temptation to pop into it? The barber we found to be a young and skillful artist in his profession, who gave us a most excellent shave, and that, too, without the aid of a brush. An earthenware bowl, with a rim about four or five inches in width, one side of which was scooped out sufficiently to adapt itself to the form of the neck, was filled with warm water, and then placed beneath my chin. With a piece of soap in his hand, this modern Figaro commenced rubbing and washing my face in such a vigorous manner, that in a few moments my features were completely covered with a white and creamy lather. I was almost suffocated, and could scarcely breathe without imbibing some ANCIENT CORONATION CEREMONIES. portion of the soapy mass. MOST OST of the ancient ceremonies observed at the coronation banquets of the Anglo-Norman and Plantagenet services were revived by James the Second at his coronation. The lords who claimed the office of sewers that day, went to the dresser of the kitchen to receive the dishes. The master of the horse officiated as serjeant of the silver scullery, and went in person to the kitchen bar to take assay of the king's meat, which was thus performed having called for a dish of meat, he wiped the bottom of the dish, and also the cover, within and without; tasted it, covered it, and caused it to be conveyed to the royal table; and, attended by a procession of all the great officers of the household, including the earl-marshal, with his rod, the great high-steward, with his white staff, the lord high constable, with his constable staff, rode up the hall on horseback, preceding the first course. Thirty-two dishes of hot meat were brought up by the knights of the bath, bareheaded, followed by a supply of other dishes by private gentlemen. Then the lord of the manor of Addington had the satisfaction of placing the mess of dillegrout before their majesties, and was afterward knighted for his pains.-Agnes Strickland. A single stroke of the keen-edged razor, however, afforded me instant relief. One side of my face was as beardless as that of an infant; another stroke, and the other side of my phiz was as naked as its fellow. A face-bath of eau de cologne ensued, and I rose from my seat a lighter and (as persons say who have just passed through some severe ordeal) I trust a better man! Commend me to the barbers of Seville. They are a happy and harmless race, and the most delicate managers of the razor in the universe. They are well versed in all the gossip of the town, and are remarkable for their loquacity and good nature. Almost any matter of local intelligence you may be sure to obtain from your barber, whose acquaintance, therefore, is well worthy of being cultivated. The highest class of Spanish Figaros are but little below the medical professors in social rank. They are licensed to use the lancet and apply leeches, these being operations which the doctors almost invariably decline to perform. As for myself, I would as soon consent to be bled by one of these fellows as by a more solemn practitioner, though, as a general rule, I should prefer keeping my blood within my own body.—Warren's Empire of Morocco. |