Twenty years ago, not twenty miles from the Land's End, there lived a Cornish gentleman named Trevannion. Just twenty years ago he died, leaving to lament him a brace of noble boys, whose mother all three had mourned, with like profound sorrow, but a short while before.

The last golden gleams of the setting sun sparkled across the translucent waters of Tampa Bay. This fading light fell upon shores fringed with groves of oak and magnolia, whose evergreen leaves became gradually darkened by the purple twilight.

Oh, Coddington, and ye Assistants of the General Court what craze possessed you to change this fair title of the red aboriginal for the petty appellation of "Rhodes?" Out upon your taste-your classic affectation Out upon your ignorance-to mistake the "Roodt" of the old Dutch navigator for that name appertaining to the country of the Colossus In the title bestowed by Block there was at least appropriateness-even something of poetry. Sailing around Sachuest Point, he beheld the grand woods, red in the golden sun-glow of autumn. Flashed upon his delighted eyes the crimson masses of tree...

Within the city of Chihuahua, metropolis of the northern provinces of Mexico-for the most part built of mud-standing in the midst of vast barren plains, o'ertopped by bold porphyritic mountains-plains with a population sparse as their timber-in the old city of Chihuahua lies the first scene of our story. Less than twenty thousand people dwell within the walls of this North Mexican metropolis, and in the country surrounding it a like limited number.

A woman in a wood-encountered accidentally, and alone. 'Tis an encounter to challenge curiosity-even though she be but a gipsy, or a peasant girl gathering sticks. If a high-born dame, beautiful, -and, above all, bright-haired, -curiosity is no longer the word; but admiration, involuntary, unrestrained-bordering upon adoration. It is but the instinct of man's heart to worship the fairest object, upon which man's eye may rest; and this is a beautiful woman, with bright hair, met in the middle of a wood. Marion Wade possessed all the conditions to merit such exalted admiration. She was...

Who has not heard of the Himalayas-those Titanic masses of mountains that interpose themselves between the hot plains of India and the cold table-lands of Thibet-a worthy barrier between the two greatest empires in the world, the Mogul and the Celestial? The veriest tyro in geography can tell you that they are the tallest mountains on the surface of the earth; that their summits-a half-dozen of them at least-surmount the sea-level by more than five miles of perpendicular height; that more than thirty of them rise above twenty thousand feet, and carry upon their tops the eternal snow

On the banks of the Neva, near the great city of Saint Petersburg, stands a splendid palace, known as the Palace Grodonoff. It is the property of a Russian nobleman of that name, as it is also his place of residence. Were you to drive up to the front gate of this grand palace, you would see a coat-of-arms sculptured in granite over the entrance. In this piece of sculpture, the principal and most striking figure is a bear, with the blade of a knife buried in his breast, the haft being clutched by a human hand Open the gate, and enter the spacious courtyard. Inside, on the right and left, you...

"I'll go " This laconism came from the lips of a young man who was walking along the Levee of New Orleans. Just before giving utterance to it he had made a sudden stop, facing a dead wall, enlivened, however, by a large poster, on which were printed, in conspicuous letters, the words- "Volunteers for Texas "

A Hunters' bivouac under the shadows of a Mississippian forest, in a spot where the trees stand unthinned by the axe of the woodman. It is upon the Arkansas side of the great river, not far from the town of Helena, and in the direction of Little Rock, the capital of that State. The scene is a small glade, surrounded by tall cottonwood trees, one of which on each side, conspicuously "blazed," indicates a "trace" of travel. It is that leading from Helena to a settlement on the forks of the White River and Cache."

I was just sixteen when I ran away to sea. I did not do so because I had been treated unkindly at home. On the contrary, I left behind me a fond and indulgent father, a kind and gentle mother, sisters and brothers who loved me, and who lamented for me long after I was gone. But no one had more cause to regret this act of filial disobedience than I myself. I soon repented of what I had done, and often, in after life, did it give me pain, when I reflected upon the pain I had caused to my kindred and friends.