employment such as it is consistent with my self-respect to accept. And mind you, I will accept no more than the usual wages, and no less." Still acting under medical advice, the son humoured the harmless delusion of the father, and paid him regularly his weekly wages. At last the old man died, happy that he could earn his honest bread to the last, and happier still, in the consciousness that he had so good a son.
Wealth is a great and a good thing; but who would part with his nose for any amount of it? Or with his eyesight? Or with the use of his limbs? Or with his reason? Not I! And not anybody to whom the rational enjoyment of wealth is better than wealth itself.
A CLUSTER OF LYRICS.
OCCULT SYMPATHIES. THE FIRST IDEA.
If Nature knew my sorrow
Would she borrow
My sad song?
Or if she knew my pleasures,
Would her measures
Lilt along?
Not at all! Oh, not at all!
Nature is no man's thrall,
The bird sings in the air,
And knows not of our care.
The wind amid the trees
Makes its own melodies.
What signifies to them our happiness or woe?
Let the hoarse billows roar! Let the wild breezes blow!
THE SECOND IDEA.
Not so, grave moraliser,
Be thou wiser;
And so learn,
That we ourselves to Nature
Give the feature
And the plan.
She pranks her in our guise,
And lives but in our eyes.
If you and I are glad,
The bells ring merry mad:
If we are grieved at heart,
The skies their gloom impart;
And winds among the trees, and waves upon the shore
Sound sadly, ever sadly—sadly evermore!
THE GOURD AND THE PALM. A PERSIAN FABLE.
"How old art thou?" said the garrulous gourd,
As o'er the palm tree's crest it poured
Its spreading leaves and tendrils fine,
And hung a bloom in the morning shine.
"A hundred years!" the palm tree sighed:
"And I," the saucy gourd replied;
"Am at the most a hundred hours,
"And overtop thee in the bowers!"
Through all the palm tree's leaves there went
A tremor as of self-content.
"I live my life," it, whispering, said;
"See what I see, and count the dead.
And every year, of all I've known,
A gourd above my head has grown,
And made a boast, like thine to-day;
Yet here I stand but where are they?"
BEAUTIFUL IN OLD AGE.
How to be beautiful when old?
I can tell you, maiden fair—
Not by lotions, dyes, and pigments,
Not by washes for your hair.
While you're young be pure and gentle,
Keep your passions well controll'd,
Walk, and work, and do your duty,
You'll be handsome when you're old.
Snow white locks are fair as golden,
Grey as lovely as the brown,
And the smile of age more pleasant
Than a youthful beauty's frown.
'Tis the soul that shapes the features,
Fires the eye, attunes the voice;
Sweet sixteen! be these your maxims,
When you're sixty you'll rejoice!
NATIVE TRIBES OF NEW MEXICO.
IN THREE CHAPTERS. CHAPTER II.
Among the Pimas the productions are chiefly maize, wheat, beans, melons, pumpkins, onions, chilli Colorado (red pepper), &c.; they own a small quantity of stock, horned cattle, sheep, horses, pigs, mules, and poultry. They rely, however, for support chiefly upon agricultural productions, milk, and eggs. So much in excess are their productions above their requirements, that they dispose annually of more than a million bushels of grain to the government agents, at from four to six cents a pound, which, in our money, is nearly twopence. They used to grow cotton, but now they find it far easier to buy the few goods they require. Major Emory, of the United States regular army, was, I believe, the first American to visit this people in 1846, when, as Lieutenant Emory, he took charge of a military reconnaissance from Fort Leavenworth to San Diego on the Pacific. He thus describes the scene: " We had no sooner encamped, eight or nine miles from the Pimas villages, than we met a Maricopa Indian looking for his cattle. The frank confident manner in which he approached us was a strange contrast to that of the suspicious Apaches. Some six or eight of the Pimas came up soon after at full speed, to ascertain who we were and what we wanted. They told us that the first trail we had seen along the river was that of their people, sent to watch the movements of their enemies, the Apaches. Their joy was unaffected at seeing that we were Americans and not Apaches, and word to that effect was immediately sent back to the chief. Although the nearest villages were nine miles distant, our camp in three hours was filled with Pimas loaded with corn, beans, honey, and water-melons, so that a brisk trade was opened at once. Their mode of approach was perfectly frank and unsuspicious; many would leave their packs in our camp and be absent for hours, theft seeming to be unknown to them. On reaching the villages we were at once impressed with the beauty, order, and disposition of the arrangements for irrigating and draining the land. Maize,
