From the centre of this group of stomachs, depends a little cord, never exceeding the fourth of an inch in thickness, and often forty times as long as the body.

The size of the Portuguese man-of-war varies from half an inch to six inches in length. When it is in motion, the sail is accommodated to the force of the bre breeze, and the elongated neck is curved upwards, giving to the animal a form strongly resembling the t little glass swans which we sometimes see swimming in goblets.

It is not the form, however, which constitutes the chief beauty of this little navigator. The lower parts of the body and neck are devoid of colour, except a faint iridescence in reflected lights; and they are so perfectly transparent, that the finest print is not obscured when viewed through them. The back becomes gradually tinged, as we ascend, with the finest and most delicate blue that can be imagined; the base of the scale equals the purest sky in the depth and beauty of tint; the summit is of the most splendid red, and the central part is shaded by a gradual admixture of these colours, through all the intermediate grades of purples. Drawn as it were upon a groundwork of mist, the tints have an ærial softness far beyond the reach of art, and warranting the assertion, that they are often dressed in beauty before which the lily would fade, and the rose hide its blushes, and producing some of the sublime phenomena which have astonished the philosopher.

The group of stomachs is less transparent, and although the hue is the same as that of the back, they are on this account incomparably less elegant. By their weight and form they fill the double office of a keel and ballast, while the cord-like appendage, which floats cut for yards behind, is called by seamen the cable.

The mode in which the animal secures his prey, has been a subject of much speculation; for the fish and crabs that are frequently found within the little tubes are often large enough to tear them in pieces, could they retain their natural vigour during the contest. Deceived by the extreme pain which is felt when the cable is brought in contact with the back of the hand, naturalists have concluded, I think too hastily, that this organ secretes a poisonous or acrid fluid, by which it benumbs any unfortunate fish, or other animal, that ventures within its toils, allured by the hope of making a meal upon what, in its ignorance, it has mistaken for a worm. The secret will be better explained by a more careful examination of the organ itself. The cord is composed of a narrow layer of contractile fibres, scarcely visible when relaxed, on account of its transparency. If the animal be large, this layer of fibres will sometimes extend itself to the length of four or five yards. A spiral line of blue bead-like bodies, less than the head of a pin, revolves around the cable from end to end, and under the microscope, these beads appear covered with minute prickles, so hard and sharp that they will readily enter the substance of wood, adhering with such pertinacity that the cord can rarely be detached without breaking.

It is to those prickles that the man-of-war owes its power of destroying animals which are

its superiors in strength and activity. When anything becomes impaled upon the cord, the contractile fibres are called into action, and rapidly shrink from many feet in length to less than the same number of inches, bringing the prey within reach of the little tubes, by one of which it is immediately swallowed.

This weapon, so insignificant in appearance, is yet sufficiently formidable even to man. 1 had once the misfortune to become entangled with the cable of a very large man-of-war, while swimming in the open ocean, and amply did it avenge its fellows, who now sleep in my cabinet robbed at once of life and beauty. The pain which it inflicted was almost insupportable for some time, nor did it entirely cease for twentyfour hours.

I might now proceed to describe many analogous animals scarcely inferior in interest, but it is time to notice some individuals of another tribe, residing beneath the surface, and therefore less generally known.

The grandest of these is the beroe. In size and form it precisely resembles a purse, the mouth, or orifice, answering to one of the modern metallic clasps. It is perfectly transparent; and in order to distinguish its filmy outlines, it is necessary to place it in a tumbler of brine held between the observer and the light. In certain directions, the whole body appears faintly iridescent; but there are several Icngitudinal narrow lines which reflect the full rich tints of the rainbow in the most vivid manner, for ever varying and mingling the hues, even while the animal remains at rest. Under the microscope, these lines display a succession of innumerable coloured scales, or minute fins, which are kept unceasingly in motion, thus producing the play of colours by continually changing the angle of reflection.

The movements of the beroe are generally retrograde, and are not aided by the coloured scales, but depend upon the alternate dilatation and contraction of the mouth. The lips are never perfectly closed, and the little fish and shrimps that play around them are continually entering and leaving them at pleasure. The animal is dependent for its food upon such semianimated substances as it draws within its grasp by moving slowly backwards in the water, and retains them in consequence of their own feebleness and inability to escape the weakest of snares.

Another tribe of the sea purses, (Salpa,) though much smaller than the beroe, are more complex in structure, and possess a higher interest in consequence of the singular habits of some of the species. They are double sacks, resembling the beroe in general form, but destitute of iridescence. The outer sack, or mantle, rarely exceeds an inch in length, and is commonly about half as wide. The inner sack is much smaller, and the interval between these forms a cavity for the water which they breathe, and for some of the viscera. Their visible organs are, a transparent heart, which can only be seen in the strongest light; a splendid double row of whitish bead-like cavities, forming a spiral line near one extremity, and supposed to be either lungs or ovaries; numerous broad flat pearly muscles,

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bary, and we were overpowered by numbers, and captured. Ah! bitter, bitter were those days of bondage. The agony of separation, perhaps forever, from the dear object of my soul's affections; the horrors of captivity, the taunts, the bitter malice of our masters, were too much for human strength to support.

"One after another, my companions died around me, until I alone was left of all the noble hearts with whom I sailed from Palestine. My tyrants grew less and less watchful, and an opportunity at length offered to escape. I made good use of it, and the next day saw me at sea in an open boat, far out of sight of land, and with but an uncertain hope of being relieved from my perilous situation. Three days of suffering were past, and as the sun for the third time was approaching the verge of the horizon, a ship bearing the colours of my own beautiful Florence, stemming the seas in her pathway towards me; my signal was seen, and I was taken aboard the friendly vessel, and in a few days beheld my native city.

"But, gracious heaven! what a tale was told me when I entered my father's mansion. But thy countenance changes, holy father, what is the matter that ye bend your brow?"

"Something of this, Sir Knight, I have heard before, and the memory is painful; but on with thy tale, I am calmer now."

"1 was told, holy father, that my Vincenteo, her for whom my soul had pined during my absence; on whom my heart doted; that she, holy father, was married to another, to my bosom friend the Count Auselin of Florence. Oh, merciful Heaven! why, why did I not perish in the wilds of Barbary; why was I alone saved, to be made the tool of passion."

"Arraign not heaven, Sir Knight; man cannot conceive the purposes of the deity, and whatever is-is meant for a wiser end."

art thou?"

"Roger De Auselen," returned the friar.

"Roger De Auselen, living!"

"Aye, living; thy blow was strong, and the wound was deep, yet the Count De Auselen lived to end a life rendered miserable by thy villainy, in a monastery."

"And Arnulf, lived to pass a life of horrid misery in the battle field, seeking in vain for death. Roger De Auselen, by thy hopes of mercy, by thy former friendship, I conjure thee, forgive, forgive, the frantic deed of a man rendered mad by disappointed love. Oh didst thou know the feelings which passed through my bosom, when I beheld her, my only love, leaning with fond affection on thy arm, thou wouldst not think me so utterly a villain. Forgive, forgive me!"

"Forgive thee, Arnulf! may the forked lightning of Heaven blast thee-ye thee-yet no, no, gracious God forgive me my implacable hatred. Sir Walter-I do forgive thee; and I pray Heaven may forgive thee;" and the count grasped the hand of him who had been his friend and a tear flowed down his cheek, and fell upon the hand he grasped.

"A tear, De Auselen," murmured the dying man, "nay, nay, this is too much."

The noble friends for a time in silence gazed upon each other. The awakened tenderness of other years struggled in vain for utterance. The pious resignation of the friar, and the deep and sincere repentance of the misguided man, who had wrought on himself and others such awful misery, were meet objects for the gaze of angels.

Death began to assert its sway over the knight; "my friend," he said, "my long lost, dearest friend, thinkest thou there is, in the mercy of Heaven, hope for a man so stamped with guilt as I am?"

"Heaven is full of love, Walter; and I do believe me thy repentance is sincere."

upon the beach, gazing at the beautiful moon, which cast a fitful light over the scene. I marked them well, and stealing behind them, I plunged my stiletto first in her back to the heart, and then in the bosom of the count, who turned round hastily to meet me. She fell with a smothered groan, but the count was not so easily dismissed. Westruggled long, yet he fell, and muttering curses on me he expired. Merciful Heaven! what aileth thee, holy father."

A deathlike change came over the friar-he gasped for breath, and his hands were clenched in an agony of rage and grief.

"Inhuman villain!" he exclaimed, at length, "Thou then, wert the murderer! Thou it was who in that hour of sacred happiness stole upon me, and like a serpent murdered my love."

The friar sunk exhausted on the floor, for long abstinence had rendered hin him weak as a

And the friar knelt over the form of the knight, and muttered ave and pater for the soul of his friend. A deep groan interrupted him and he looked upon the knight; his spirit had departed-God who alone knew his sencerity in rethe friar believed it was to Heaven.

A. L. L.

PROVERBS. They embrace the wide sphere of human existence, they take all the colors of life, they are often exquisite strokes of genius, they delight by their airy sarcasm of their caustic satire, the luxuriance of their humor, the playfulness of their imagery, and the tenderness of their sentiment. They give a deep insight into domestic life, and open for us the heart of man, in all the various states which he may occupya frequent review of Proverbs should enter into our readings; and although they are no longer the ornaments of conversation, they have not ceased to be the treasure of thought.

"The price of liberty is eternal vigilance." This truth, so often repeated, never deserved to be more warmly urged than at the present time. The nation is now reposing from the toils of party strife, but its repose should not be lethargic.