beings. His pictures are heroic-never mock- ler and The Guardian. In the first of these, heroic; and they range in great variety over in conjunction with Steele, he wrote the dea large expanse of animal life, in the forms, of lambs and mastiffs, cats and gibbering monkeys, lions of the tropics and polar bears, and, most touching of all, "stags at bay" and wearied stags," whose fast-flowing tears almost compel our own. 66 Nor was his genius confined to the animal creation alone, although to it he devoted the chief efforts of his life. The delineation of the human figure also claimed a share of his labors. We present a line engraving on steel from his beautiful painting of "INNOCENCE." The graceful form and the mild expression of the subject of this picture do honor to the great artist. JOSEPH ÅDDISON, scription of "the club," in which are found lifelike presentations of its members in the dif ferent walks of society. Among these the most interesting member is Sir Roger de Coverley, whose life and death are described with great humor and pathos. His hymns supplied a want of the age, and are still great favorites, especially those beginning "The spacious firmament on high." Addison's style was the best that had yet appeared in English literature-clear, forcible and fluent. His writings are chiefly now of historical value. He died in 1719. LAWRENCE. LIDING down the river, we were soon THE HE most famous writer of Queen Anne's day, was born at Wilstow, in Wiltshire, in 1672. As a boy he received his instruction at the Charter-House, since so celebrated | in the novels of Thackeray as Greyfriars School. Thence, at the age of fifteen, he went to Oxford, where, for some excellent SHOOTING THE RAPIDS OF THE ST. Latin verses, he received a scholarship. At the age of twenty-two he wrote an ode to Dryden, the great poet of the day, and in 1695 another to the king, William. For this he was rewarded by a pension, and was ultimately appointed under-secretary of state. In 1701 he travelled abroad, and on his return wrote a Poetical Epistle from Italy. After the famous victory of Marlborough at Blenheim he wrote a poem eulogistic of that great general, entitled The Campaign, which for its prosaic and statistical character was called by the critics a rhymed despatch. He found the best vent for his talent in the newspapers of the time, The Spectator, The Tat in the midst of islands, and found ourselves ere long at the commencement of the rapids. The first two or three which we passed were not sufficiently formidable to cause more than a slight ripple on the surface, but by and by we approached the great rapid, that called the Long Sault, and preparation was made for its descent. Even those accustomed to shoot it seemed to grow more and more excited as we approached; it was no wonder, then, that a novice like myself should partake largely of the feeling. I took my post upon deck, where I resolved to remain until the exciting SHOOTING THE RAPIDS OF THE ST. LAWRENCE. episode was over. The rapid was in sight. Independently of the fact that I was about to shoot it, it was an object of the highest interest to me; for who has not heard of the rapids of the St. Lawrence? We were close to the Canada shore, some wooded islands intervening between us and the American bank. The rapid commenced amongst the islands, but did not exhibit itself in its full force and grandeur until it emerged from them into the clear and somewhat contracted channel immediately be low. As far as we could see down the river the dark, leaden-looking water was broken into billowy masses crested with spray, like the breakers upon a low rocky shore, stretching far out to sea, whilst the roar with which the delirious current was accompanied was like the sound of a cataract hard by. For nearly a quarter of a mile above the rapid the current ran smoothly, but with great velocity, which increased as it approached the line at which the channel dipped still more, agitating the mighty volume, which seemed to tear itself to pieces against the sunken rocks, over which it dashed with impetuous speed. A period, as it were, of breathless expectation ensued from the time of our entering upon the preliminary current until we crossed the line in question. The steamer seemed here to take its race for the plunge which it made from the smooth into the broken current. To one unaccustomed to such a scene, a moment or two of semistupefaction ensues, after getting fairly within the embraces of the rapid. It seemed to me at first that we had suddenly been brought to a halt and were standing still, with the water boiling and surging around us in a mighty caldron, whilst islands, mainland,. rocks, trees, houses and every fixed thing 207 | ashore seemed suddenly to have been loosened from their foundations and to be reeling around me. On becoming more collected I discerned the real state of things: the steamer was shooting like an arrow along the stormy descent, lashing the angry waters with her lusty paddle-wheels to give her steerage-way. She thus rushed on for miles in the course of a few minutes, the objects ashore flitting by us as do those which line a railway. By and by we reached a point where the current, although yet greatly agitated, was comparatively tranquil, when the very steamer seemed to breathe more freely after her perilous race. On looking around me, the islands were gone, the broad and broken channel was no longer to be seen, the banks had fallen from their well-wooded elevations almost to the water's edge, the stream was contracted: it was placid in front of us, but wildly agitated behind; in short, the whole scene had changed. The whole looked like a troubled dream, and it was some time ere I could recall in their proper succession the different incidents which marked it. CHARLES MACKAY. THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE. "I know not whether it be worth reporting that there is in Cornwall, near the parish of St. Neots, a well arched over with the robes of four kinds of trees-withy, oak, elm and ash-dedicated to St. Keyne. The reported virtue of the water is this, that whether husband or wife come first to drink thereof, they get the mastery thereby."-FULLER. A WELL there is in the West country, And a clearer one never was seen; There is not a wife in the West country But has heard of the well of St. Keyne. An oak and an elm tree stand beside, And behind does an ash tree grow, And a willow from the bank above Droops to the water below. A traveller came to the well of St. Keyne; Pleasant it was to his eye, For from cock-crow he had been travelling, And there was not a cloud in the sky. He drank of the water so cool and clear, For thirsty and hot was he, And he sat down upon the bank, Under the willow tree. There came a man from the neighboring town At the well to fill his pail, On the well-side he rested it, And bade the stranger hail. Now art thou a bachelor, stranger?" quoth "I hastened as soon as the wedding was he; "For an' if thou hast a wife, done, And left my wife in the porch. The happiest draught thou hast drank this But, i' faith, she had been wiser than me, day That ever thou didst in thy life. For she took a bottle to church. ROBERT SOUTHEY. CHEAP JACKS AND DEAR JACKS. AM a Cheap Jack. Now, I'll tell you what I mean to go down into my grave declaring that, of all the callings ill-used in Great Britain, the Cheap-Jack calling is the worst used. Why ain't we a profession? Why ain't we endowed with privileges? Why are we forced to take out a hawker's license, when no such thing is expected of the political hawkers? Where's the difference betwixt us? Except that we are Cheap Jacks and they are Dear Jacks, I don't see any difference but what's in our favor. For look here! Say it's election-time. I am on the foot-board of my cart in the market-place on a Saturday night. I put up a general miscellaneous lot. I say Now, here, my free and independent woters, I'm a-going to give you such a chance as you never had in all your born days, nor yet the days preceding. Now I'll show you what I am a-going to do with you. Here's a pair of razors that'll shave you closer than the Board of Guardians; here's a flat-iron worth its weight in gold; here's a frying pan artificially flavored with essence of beef-steaks to that degree that you've only got for the rest of your lives to fry bread and dripping in it, and there you are replete with animal food; here's a genuine chronometer watch in such a solid silver case that you may knock at the door with it when you come home late from a social meeting and rouse your wife and family, and save up your knocker for the postman; and here's half a dozen dinner-plates that you may play the cymbals with to charm the baby when it's fractious. Stop! I'll throw you in another article, and I'll give you that, and it's a rolling-pin; and if the baby can only get it well into its mouth when its teeth is coming, and rub the gums once with it, they'll come through double in a fit of laughter equal to being tickled. Stop again! I'll throw you in another article, because I don't like the looks of you, for you haven't the appearance of buyers unless I lose by you, and because I'd rather lose than not take money to-night; and that article's a looking-glass in which you may see how ugly you look when you don't bid. What do you say now? Come! Do you say a pound?-Not you, for you haven't got it. Do you say ten shillings?—Not you, for you owe more to the tally-man.— Well, then, I'll tell you what I'll do with you I'll heap 'em all on the foot-board of the cart. There they are-razors, flat-iron, frying-pan, chronometer watch, dinner-plates, rolling-pin and looking-glass. Take 'em all away for four shillings, and I'll give you sixpence for your trouble." This is me, the Cheap Jack. But on the Monday morning, in the same market-place, comes the Dear Jack on the hustings-his cart-and what does he say? "Now, my free and independent woters, I am a-going to give you such a chance" (he begins just like me) "as you never had in all your born days, and that's the chance of sending myself to Parliament. Now I'll tell you what I am a-going to do for you. Here's the interests of this magnificent town promoted above all the rest of the civilized and uncivilized earth. Here's your railways carried, and your neighbors' railways jockeyed. Here's all your sons in the post-office. Here's Brittania smiling on you. Here's the eyes of Europe on you. Here's universal prosperity for you, repletion of animal food, golden corn |