ingale. He sings in the most lively and voluble strain, and is well worthy of his great reputation among the feathered songsters; but there is no American bird whom he resembles in tone or manner. We stopped for the night at Velletri, which stands on a commanding eminence, with an almost boundless prospect toward the south. On the other side, you look down a deep valley and up the side of a mountain beyond, covered with verdant fields, gardens, vine yards, and every variety of cultivation.

Rome was now but twenty-four Italian or eighteen English miles distant. The morning broke delightfully, and my impatience to see the great capital of the world was at such a height, that I would not wait for the carriage, but set out on foot. Long strings of wagons were coming from Rome, having left that city late the preceding night. It was amusing to notice that the drivers were nearly all fast asleep. The horses were eating all the way, each one having a bundle of hay tied to the head of the shaft in such a manner that he could help himself. The road over which I was passing was the celebrated Appian way, and is paved neatly and durably with square stones laid diamond-wise. As the day drew on, I met the country people going to their work. The women have a curious head-dress, consisting of a square fold of cloth, starched stiff and laid flat on the top of the head, often fastened with a silver pin as big as a kitchen skewer.

Two or three more small towns on the road could not induce me to slacken my pace towards the great object of my curiosity. At length, about the middle of the forenoon, as I ascended a steep hill, I caught sight of a lofty dome at a distance, which I instantly knew for St. Peter's! Rome indeed was before me!-a sight which no man can behold for the

first time without emotions impossible to describe. I stopped involuntarily. A wide plain extended from the foot of the eminence on which I stood to the walls of Rome. Long lines of aqueducts, ruined towers, and broken masses of walls and other architecture, chequered the surface of the plain; and the whole exhibited a striking spectacle of ruin and desolation. This was the Campagna di Roma, which, in the day of its prosperity, was covered with houses and gardens, the suburbs of the great city. Now, everything is still, solitary and lifeless. As I approached the city, I saw nothing around me but fields without fences, overgrown with brambles; not a house nor a garden, nor a human being, except here and there a ragged shepherd watching his sheep, which were browsing among the ruins! Nearer the city, I passed occasionally a field of wheat, and now and then a house; but hardly any people were to be seen, and nothing of the hurry, life and bustle which indicate the neighborhood of a populous city. This spectacle of solitude and desolation continued even after passing the gates of Rome; for half the territory within the walls is an utter waste.

RATTLESNAKES.-Two men, Egbert Galusha and Reuben Davis, residing in the town of Dresden, on the east side of Lake George, recently killed, in three days, on the east side of Tongue Mountain, in the town of Bolton, eleven hundred and four rattlesnakes! They were confined to rocks and uninhabited places. Some of the reptiles were of an enormous size, having from six to twenty rattles. They were killed for their oil or grease, which is said to be very valuable. We will turn out Warren county against the world for rattlesnakes! Glenns' Falls Clarion.

ABOUT seven or eight hundred years ago, it was the custom of Christians, in various parts of the world, to go to the city of Jerusalem, to say prayers and perform penances, thinking that they benefited their souls thereby. Jerusalem belonged to the Turks then, as it does now; and it frequently happened that these Christians were ill-treated by the inhabitants, who despised and hated them.

This ill-treatment roused the people of Europe to vengeance, and vast armies went to take Jerusalem from the Turks, whom they called infidels. There were several of these wonderful expeditions, called Crusades, during the tenth, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries, in which several millions of people lost their lives. Jerusalem was taken from the Turks,

but they got it back again after a short time.

It was about the period of the crusades that Knight-Errantry took its rise. The knights-errant, or wandering knights, rode on fine horses, with spears and swords; and when they met each other they went to battle, often for the fun of it. They pretended to gc about to relieve the distressed and to punish injustice: and there was need enough of this-for, in that age of the world, there was a great deal of cruelty and oppression. Sometimes these knights really performed very noble and brave actions. The stories of their adventures, preserved in ancient books, are very interesting.

The order of Knights Templars was formed at Jerusalem, by seven gentlemen,

about the year 1120. They professed to devote themselves to the service of God, and actually set about punishing robbers and thieves who troubled the Christians who went on pilgrimages to Jerusalem. They increased in numbers, and had apartments assigned them near Solo

mon's Temple, whence they were called Templars. After a time, the Templars were numerous in Europe, where they grew very rich and powerful. At last they were accused of high crimes; and, in the fourteenth century, the order was suppressed.

The Garden of Peace.

THERE are few persons who do precisely as they ought to do. It is very seldom that any one, even for a single day, discharges every duty that rests upon him, at the same time avoiding everything that is wrong. There is usually something neglected, delayed, or postponed, that ought to be done today. There is usually some thought entertained, some feeling indulged, some deed committed, that is sinful. If any person doubts this, let him make the experiment; let him watch every thought and action for a single day, and he will be very likely to perceive that what we say is true-that all fall far short of perfect obedience to the rule of right.

And yet, if a person can once make up his mind to do right, it is the surest way to obtain happiness. The manner in which this may be accomplished, and the pleasant consequences that follow, I shall endeavor to show by an allegory, which will, at the same time, exhibit the evils that proceed from an habitual and determined neglect of duty.

In an ancient city of the East, two youths chanced to be passing a beautiful garden. It was enclosed by a lofty trellis, which prevented their entering the place; but, through its openings, they

could perceive that it was a most enchanting spot. It was not a place where kitchen vegetables are produced, but it was embellished by every object of nature and art that could give beauty to the landscape. There were groves of lofty trees, with winding avenues between them. There were green lawns, the grass of which seemed like velvet. There were groups of shrubs, many of them in bloom, and scattering delicious fragrance upon the atmosphere.

Between these pleasing objects there were fountains sending their silvery showers into the air; and a stream of water, clear as crystal, wound with gentle murmurs through the place. The charms of this lovely scene were greatly heightened by the delicious music of birds, the hum of bees, and the echoes of many youthful and happy voices.

The two young men gazed upon the landscape with intense interest; but as they could only see a portion of it through the trellis, they looked out for some gate by which they might enter the garden. At a little distance, they perceived an arch, and they went to the spot, supposing that they should find an entrance here. There was, indeed, a gate; but, behold, it was locked, and they found it impossible to gain admittance!

While they were considering what

course they should adopt, they perceived an inscription upon the arch above, which ran as follows:

"Ne'er till to-morrow's light delay What may as well be done to-day; Ne'er do the thing you'd wish undone Viewed by to-morrow's rising sun. Observe these rules a single year, And you may freely enter here.”

The two youths were much struck by these lines; and, before they parted, both had agreed to make the experiment and try to live according to the inscription. They were not only anxious to gain admittance to the beautiful garden, but the idea of adopting a plan like that proposed had something of novelty in it; and this is always pleasing to the ardent heart of the young.

I need not tell the details of their progress in their trial. Both found the task they had undertaken much more difficult than they at first imagined. To their surprise, they found that following this rule required an almost total change of their modes of life; and this taught them, what they had not felt before, that a very large part of their lives-a very large share of their thoughts, feelings and actions-were wrong, though they were considered virtuous young men by the society in which they lived.

After a few weeks, the younger of the two, finding that the scheme put too many restraints upon his tastes, abandoned the trial. The other persevered, and, at the end of the year, presented himself at the arched gateway of the garden.

4

To his great joy, he was instantly admitted; and if the place pleased him when seen dimly through the trellis, it appeared far more lovely, now that he could actually tread its pathways, breathe its balmy air, and mingle intimately with the scenes around. One thing delighted, yet surprised himwhich was this: it now seemed easy for him to do right; nay, to do right, instead

of requiring self-denial and a sacrifice of his tastes and wishes, seemed to him to be a matter of course, and the pleasantest thing he could do.

While he was thinking of this, a person came near, and the two fell into. conversation. After a little while, the youth told his companion what he was thinking of, and asked him to account for his feelings. "This place," said the other, "is the Garden of Peace. It is the abode of those who have adopted God's will as the rule of their lives. It is a happy home provided for those who have conquered selfishness; those who have learned to put aside their passions and do their duty. At first, it is difficult to do this; for, in early life, we adopt wrong courses, and habit renders them easy. These habits become our masters, and it is hard to break away from them. But if we triumph over these habits, and if we adopt others, of a virtuous kind, then it is easy to follow them; and the peace that flows from virtuous habits is beyond the power of words to express. This lovely garden is but a picture of the heart that is firmly established in the ways of virtue. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.'

While the companions were thus conversing, and as they were passing near the gateway, the youth saw on the other side the friend who had resolved to follow the inscription, but who had given over the trial. Upon this, the companion of the youth said, "Behold the young man who could not conquer himself! How miserable is he in comparison with yourself! What is it makes the difference? You are in the Garden of Peace; he is excluded from it. This tall gateway is a barrier that he cannot pass; this is the barrier, interposed by human vices and human passions, which separates mankind from that peace, of which we are all capable. Whoever can con

THE banana tree is a kind of palm, found in hot climates. It is common in South America, and we frequently see the fruit in our markets. When this is cut in slices, dried in the sun, and pounded, it produces a mealy substance that answers the purpose of bread. The banana is also eaten without cooking, when ripe, and is esteemed very delicious. The Spaniards always cut the fruit lengthwise, for they have a superstitious dread of cutting it across, because the pieces then have a resemblance to the cross on which Christ was crucified.

The fruit of the banana tree is almost as large as a cucumber; the leaves are five or six feet long and a foot wide.

ECONOMY.-As a proof of domestic economy in France, it may be stated that a short time back, in the commune of Bugey, in the Saone-et-Loire, a man buried his wife in an old clock-case to save the expense of a coffin, in defiance of the remonstrances of the neighbors and a clergyman.