quired Fairhold, earnestly

"Francis Fairhold Phillips, at your service," said the youth.

"Then you are my namesake, and the son of my earliest friend," cried the merchant, grasping his hand; "you will never want a situation while I have a warehouse. My boy, I have got a lesson this morning against grumbling at trifles; but for a mouse which woke me up in no good temper, I should n't have left the Golden Lion for some hours later, nor have fallen in with you and the Horsham wagon."

Before things were fully explained, they entered the town; assistance was forthwith dispatched to the wagon, and young Phillips, on a good horse from the Crown Inn, rode back to take leave of his mother's cousin. Joyfully he returned to join the merchant; and Mr. Fairhold, with his chinking valise and his new-found namesake, journeyed safely on to the old house in Cheapside. There he found his family and business all as he had left them some two months before. The honest foreman gave up his temporary trust. The punctual merchant made his annual payments, and the house of Fairhold continued to flourish. Its master found in the son of his friend an assistant on whose business abilities and, better still, on whose sterling principles he could rely; and as his true worth became every day more apparent in home and warehouse, Mr. Fairhold was wont to remark how much, under Providence, he owed to that disturbing mouse at the Golden Lion, and how short-sighted he had been to grumble at what had been a blessing under disguise.

The good merchant had half made up his mind to call there on his approaching journey, when at the summer assizes, held at the Old Bailey, he was summoned to act as a juror on the trial of a man indicted for highway robbery. The case excited considerable interest of that morbid kind so common to mobs in all ages, for the man was believed to be the last of a desperate gang who had long been the terror of the southern counties. Mr. Fairhold felt the solemn responsibility of an English juror as his eye wandered over the crowded court and rested on the prisoner. He was a sullen, hardened man, whom the alternate want and riot of an evil life had made prematurely old. There was no trace of better days about him; but as

indictment, the last of them was William Waterton. The evidence was clear, the facts were proved. The prisoner had been a companion of robbers, and active in breaking the laws of both God and man; but Francis Fairhold remembered the boy who had sat in his church-pew, and worked in his warehouse, and though conscience obliged him to concur in the unanimous verdict of "guilty," his reasoning brought the whole jury box to recommend him to mercy, in consideration of early seduction and a misguided youth.

The law had little mercy in those days; but the judge, being a humane man, as judges ought to be, supported the petition which Mr. Fairhold by great exertion got up, and the capital sentence was commuted to transportation. scarcely finished, when our merchant received a message one morning from the governor of Newgate, saying that the prisoner Waterton begged hard to see him.

His good work was

Hoping an impulse of repentance might have caused this, Mr. Fairhold hastened to see his lost apprentice in the prison cell. The unhappy man was more moved than could have been expected at his coming, and when they were alone, said :—

"Sir, you have done a great deal for me, and ill I deserve it; but I couldn't cross the sea without speaking to you of one thing. You remember, almost a year ago, when you stopped at the Golden Lion on your way back to London. You had collected a deal of money, and I knew it, though you did n't know me, for I was one of the three men who sat drinking in Hobbes's kitchen. We were all of the same gang, and hearing that you were to go at seven next morning, we laid a plan to rob you at a lonely part of the road, and I meant to take your life, sir, because you had been my master, and tried to keep me in order. I have lived to be thankful that we were disappointed; but, to this hour, cannot understand why you should have set out three hours before the time."

Readers, the chasm was wide between the pious upright merchant and the convicted felon; but both learned within the walls of Newgate what wondrous work an overruling Providence had wrought by a puny instrument. The mouse which disturbed Mr. Fairhold's sleep, and ruffled his temper, had been the means of saving his life, and through him that of his in

tended murderer. Even on the hardened mind of the latter the event explained by his old master made an impression which proved lasting, for hopeful accounts of him were heard from the penal colony. Francis Fairhold carried on business for many a year in Cheapside, and made many a journey among his country customers, always calling at the Golden Lion. In memory of his marvelous escape, he had a broad seal engraved with the figure of a mouse, and this motto: "By it God preserved me. The modest, upright young man, whom he met on that eventful day, became to him a son through the special favor of his daughter Sophy. Kate wedded a neighbor's son, and lived close by her parents; but never did his increasing family gather round the good merchant's board, at Easter or Christmas time, that he did n't recall the event of the wayside inn with fervent thankfulness. times, too, he related it to impatient spirits, with this exhortation: "Never get out of sorts at small annoyances; they may be God's messengers."

Some

PRIMEVAL FORESTS OF BRAZIL.

IN

N front of a Brazilian inn on the banks of the Macacú, Prince Adalbert of Prussia observed the trunk of a gigantic tree, covered with Orchidacea, at the foot of some rising ground. The forest-trees had been cut down in the lower part, but the stumps rose high above the grass and plants; while here and there a tree, which had escaped the ax and fire, stripped of its bark, reared its head toward the black rainclouds. Higher up the acclivity extended the primeval forest, the deep shades of which set off strongly the slender white stems. Our way (says the royal traveler) led up the valley of the Macacú, which swept along far below us on our right: we gazed upon the vaulted tops of the lofty trees on the opposite bank, admiring the varied tints of green, which are not seen in our woods. The forest extended as far as the eye could reach. We soon entered its refreshing shade, and lost sight of the surrounding country, which was seen in an unfavorable light to-day, the fine rain obscuring the outline of the mountains. . . . Hitherto we have been used to inquire, in passing through a wood, whether it formed part of the primeval forest? We no longer asked this question, for we were

now conscious of the fact. The solemn feelings which arise on entering these forests for the first time indicated the truth surely enough. At first we gazed in wonder on the labyrinth of tall, straight trees, rising like giants, and into the tangled creepers and climbers which surrounded us; we looked up to the light roof of foliage, through which was seen the vault of heaven as through a vail; but we could not account to ourselves for all we beheld. The imagination may picture to itself the aspect of these forests in the most glowing colors; but it will fall far short of the impression produced on the spectator when setting foot in them. Every object is here colossal; everything seems to belong to a primeval world: we feel ourselves to be in disproportion to all around us, and to pertain to quite another period of existence.

The chief ornament of the forest, on our ride to-day, were trees with magnificent lilac blossoms, and others with white ones, contrasting beautifully with the surrounding varied tints of green. After enjoying, with a restless glance, this splendid display of colors, we turned to the deep shades which lay disclosed, solemn and mournful, between the gigantic trees on our wayside. The flame-colored raceme of a Tillandsia, a foot tall, glowed like fire among the dark foliage. Again our attention was attracted by the charming Epiphytes, climbing up the straight trunks of the trees, or picturesquely covering their branches, which seldom shoot out from the trunk at a less height than fifty to eighty feet from the ground. From the fertility of the soil, the trees spring up so densely that, when young, their branches, not having room to expand freely, strive to overtop one another. The Tillandsias nestle at the ramification of the smaller branches, or upon excrescences, where they often grow to an immense size, and have the appearance of an aloe, the length of a man, hanging down gracefully from a giddy height over the head of the passer-by.

Among the various plants which spring from the branches or cling to the stems of the trees are the mosses, hanging down, not unlike horses' tails, from the branches which support the Epiphytes and Tillandsias; or one might fancy them the long beards of these venerable giants of the forest, that have stood unbent beneath the weight of a thousand years. Myriads of

Lianes hang down to the ground, or suspended in the air, several inches thick, and not unfrequently the size of a man's body, coated with bark like the branches of the trees. But it is impossible for any one to conceive the fantastic forms they assume, interlaced and entangled: sometimes they depend, like straight poles, to the ground, and, striking root, might, from their thickness, be taken for trees; at other times they resemble large loops, or rings, from ten to twenty feet in diameter, or are so twisted that they look like cables. Sometimes they lace the tree regularly from distance to distance; often they embrace it so closely as to choke it, and cause all its leaves to fall of, so that it stretches out its dead gigantic arms, like branches of white coral, among the fresh verdure of the forest -a picture of death, surprising us in the midst of the most blooming life. Frequently, however, they give the old trunk a new covering of leaves, so that the same tree appears clothed in several different kinds of foliage.

The variety of leaves, in short, is infinite; but they are mostly very fine and small, and the roof which they form is of no great size, being often vaulted like that of fir-trees. I have never observed conifers in the primeval forests; but the darkcolored foliage of some other trees much resembles them. A group of Imbaibas, on a rising ground near our road, presented a peculiar appearance; their slender, smooth, and white stems rising high above the surrounding thicket, and their small crowns, of large-lobed leaves, crowded picturesquely together, or overtopping one another. Nor less interesting was another tree which I observed, resembling the Imbaiba in several respects; but its leaves are silver-gray, and perfectly white beneath; and the regular growth of its branches, extending like the arms of a candelabrum, and bending over at their summit, gives this tree a character of its own.

In my opinion, however, the greatest ornament of the primeval forest is the graceful palm, yielding to the gentlest breeze its slender, pliant stem may almost be spanned by the hand, and, nevertheless, it rises to half the height of the tall forest-trees, being frequently from sixty to seventy feet high. The small crown at the top resembles a tuft of pendent feathers, consisting of finely-pinnated

fronds, from the midst of which rises a pointed spire, of a light-green color, giving to these beautiful palms the appearance of the slender shaft of a lance, or a waving reed. They are generally seen in groups, and their clustered tufts, rising from amid the foliage, and agitated by the least breeze, bow their heads as if in graceful salutation to the passer-by. All species of palms usually love company-not only those of a tall and slender growth, but also those with stiff spines and thick crowns, as well as many others with larger trunks: even the stemless, shrubby palms are generally met with in groups in these primeval forests. The traveler sometimes journeys on a long way without seeing anything like a palm; and then again, at other times, his road will lie for hours among these trees.

At first we rode on for some time without speaking; but at length exclamation followed exclamation, and our amazement increased at every step, as one new picture succeeded another. Everything here is wonderful, and altogether different from what we, in our cold northern regions, can picture to ourselves. In what other part of the world is to be seen such a union of the grand and sublime, with the beautiful, the lovely, nay, even the fantastic, and all forming so harmonious a picture, as we witness in these tropical forests of the new world!

Perfect silence does not reign in these forests, as is generally imagined; for the singing of birds, and the sounds of the cicadas, are heard incessantly. ...

We continued our ride, and following a stream, descended on the other side of the Sierra, but not quite so far as we had ascended on this. The forests covered the two ridges inclosing the valley. ... A new object now presented itself—the tall reed, "Taquara Assú." Except in our ride to the botanical garden near Rio, I had never before met with the Brazilian bamboo. It overtops high trees, resembling in appearance dark green lances from thirty to sixty feet high, and bent like bundles of flexible spears in lofty arches over the road. Toward the lower end it is frequently as thick as a man's body, and has regular internodial divisions; sometimes it is quite smooth, and bears small leaflets on its slender and scarcely visible branches. The bamboo, like the palms, generally occurs in large masses.

culturists during the last twenty years, not one has been so rapidly and universally adopted as guano. Its astonishing fertilizing qualities and easy mode of application have rendered it a general favorite with the farmers, though the immense distance of the places from which it is chiefly obtained, and its consequent high price in England, must necessarily limit its use even if the supplies were inexhaustible.

The island of Ichaboe, on the west coast of Africa, whence guano was first obtained in large quantities, is, perhaps, a most VOL. III, No. 6.-QQ

for hundreds of large ships, and the source of immense wealth to numerous individuals. But Ichaboe was soon exhausted, and the dusty treasure that had for many centuries been accumulating on its rocky bosom was literally swept away. The once busy island has now returned to its former loneliness, and the fleet of ships that gathered round it seek on still more distant coasts the fertilizing powder that shall fatten the impoverished fields of oldworld countries. We ask the reader to accompany us to the far-off country of

Peru, for upon her shores there lies an open mine of wealth that will bear comparison in value, and far exceed in usefulness, the glittering veins that traverse her huge mountains.

More than half the guano imported into England, during the last ten years, has been obtained from a small group of islands called the Chincas, that lie off the port of Pisco, on the Peruvian coast. Of these islands, the largest, Sangallan, has very little guano upon it, the principal deposits being found on three smaller ones, the most northern of the group. These are emphatically the guano islands, for they are utterly unproductive of anything besides. They are distinguished as the north, middle, and south islands. The north island has been constantly worked ever since the introduction of guano into England; the middle one has also been occasionally invaded; but the south island, on which I believe the accumulation to be greatest, remains untouched.

Every ship bound to the Chincas is compelled to anchor at Pisco, in order to pass the necessary custom-house formalities before proceeding to her loading ground. A couple of hours are then sufficient to carry her across the few miles of water that intervene, and she soon again drops her anchor among the numerous fleet that is ever lying off the islands waiting for their turn to load. The odorous scent of the guano is distinctly perceptible at several miles distance, and is far from unpleasant when thus mingled with the pure sea air.

The first duty of the crew after the ship's arrival, is to discharge the extra ballast, and as the captains have no dread of port-officers or harbor-masters, the sand or stone is quietly tossed over the side, until there is barely sufficient left in the hold to keep the vessel on an even keel. In the mean time, the long-boat is hoisted out of her berth amidships, and part of the crew are busily employed in bringing off boat-loads of guano from the island, to replace the discharged ballast. The peculiar odor pervades the whole ship, the carefully tarred rigging becomes a dirty brown, while the snow-white decks and closely-furled sails assume the same dark hue.

On the side next the main-land, the islands rise precipitously from the sea to a considerable height, presenting only a

bare, dark wall of rock. From the upper edge of the precipice the huge mound of guano slopes rapidly upward for a short distance, and then spreads into a level surface that gradually descends on every other side to within a few yards of the water. Here and there, rough craggy points thrust their white heads through the brown crust of guano, which has completely filled up the deep hollows that originally existed in the island, and would soon, had it not been disturbed, håve covered even these crests of what were once tall pinnacles. The only safe landing-place is on a narrow strip of beach, the remainder of the island being surrounded by low rocks and small detached reefs; but the singular formation has greatly facilitated the loading of ships, enabling the crews to accomplish that in a few days, which, under other circumstances, must have cost them tedious weeks of labor. Close to the face of the rock the water is deep enough to float the largest merchantman, and the steady constancy of the trade-wind, which rarely increases here beyond a pleasant breeze, enables the ship to lie in perfect safety, in close contact with her two most dangerous enemies-a rocky island and a dead leeshore. Having taken aboard by her boats sufficient guano to ballast her, the ship is hauled in close to the steep cliff, to which she is securely bound with warps and chains; two anchors being dropped to seaward to enable her to haul off again when loaded, or in case of accident.

Down to the very edge of the precipice, on its lofty summit, comes the point of a triangular inclosure, open at its base, and made of strong stakes driven into the solid guano, and closely knit together with iron chains. At the point resting upon the edge of the cliff there is a small opening, to which is firmly attached a wide canvas pipe, which hangs down the face of the precipice and passes into the hold of the vessel beneath. The inclosure, which will contain several hundred tons, is filled with guano by the Indian laborers, and a small line that closes the mouth of the pipe being slacked, the whole mass is poured into the ship at a rate which very soon completes her cargo. From different parts of the pipe, bowlines lead to the mast-heads of the vessel, and from thence on deck, where they are tended by the crew, who alternately haul upon and slack