The details of their march are very curious. The rich proprietors—that is to say, those who possess the greater number of sheep-have formed themselves into a company, called the Mesta. This association being necessarily a monopoly, it is difficult to alter any of its laws. It would have been impossible for a few proprietors with small flocks to have undertaken these yearly journeys. This society was formed to do away with this inconvenience, and, under the superintendence of persons chosen for the purpose, the flocks are led to the uncultivated lands and mountains of Spain. The Mesta employ between forty and fifty thousand shepherds, who lead a wandering and almost savage life, who never cultivate the ground, and rarely marry, their knowledge being confined wholly to sheep, in which department they are very skilful.

The flocks of the Mesta are divided into smaller troops of ten thousand sheep each; at the head of each troop is a mayoral, or chief shepherd, to direct them, fifty inferior shepherds, and the same number of dogs, who keep watch over the sheep. The chief shepherd rides on horseback, and has a salary of about sixty pounds in English money. The wages of the inferior shepherds vary according to their skill and usefulness. The best paid have about thirty shillings a month, and the worst not more than eight; but to these last two pounds of bread a day are given. Every shepherd may have a certain number of sheep and goats of his own, but their wool belongs to the proprietor of the flock. The shepherd has only the milk, the flesh, and the young ones they produce.

Abundant supplies of salt are provided, and the sheep eat as much of it as they like. The annual consumption for a thousand animals is two thousand five hundred pounds.

The Mesta is composed of proprietors, possessing some four thousand, and others sixty thousand sheep.

The march of these large flocks is regulated by particular laws, derived from ancient custom. The shepherds have a

right of pasturage in all those waste lands which are reserved for that purpose, and for this they pay a fixed price to the proprietors, beyond which they can exact nothing. They may not enter upon cultivated grounds; but the owners are obliged to reserve them a passage forty-five fathoms wide. The sheep travel two leagues a day in their own pastures, but they go six when they pass through arable lands. Their emigration extends to a hundred and twenty and one hundred and fifty leagues. The Mesta has its particular laws, and a tribunal, called the "Honourable Council of the Mesta." It is composed of four judges, and one of the members of the Council of Castille is their president.

GUSTAVUS VASA.

This hero, who rescued his country from a foreign yoke, was allied to the royal family of Sweden. On the invasion of that country by Christian II., in 1518, Gustavus Vasa was one of the six hostages whom he took back to Denmark; and failing in detaching him from his allegiance to his country, he gave an order for his death, but afterwards changed it to imprisonment in the castle of Copenhagen. Eric Banner, a Danish nobleman, feeling compassion for the suffering of the young Swede, obtained leave to take him to a fortress in Jutland, of which he was governor.

Here Gustavus passed his time in comparative satisfaction, until he heard of the accession of Christian II. to the Swedish crown, when his heart burnt within him, and he resolved to use every effort to recover the lost liberties of his country. He escaped to Lubec; but soon found that the Danes were in quest of him, which obliged him to assume the habit and manners of a peasant. In this disguise he passed through all quarters of their army, in a waggon loaded with hay, until he reached an old family castle at Sudermania. He despatched letters hence to his friends, hoping to rouse them to an attempt for the recovery of their liberty; but meeting with

little success among the great, he next tried the peasantry. He visited their villages by night, and harangued them at their festive assemblies, but without effect, as they uniformly told him that it was in vain for them to attempt to better their condition, for "peasants they were, and peasants they must remain."

Gustavus next determined to try the miners of Delecarlia. He penetrated the mountains of that remote province, and was obliged, for a scanty subsistence, to enter himself as a common labourer at a mine. Here he worked within the dark caverns of the earth; but the fineness of his linen soon led some of his fellow-labourers to suspect that he was more than what he seemed.

By the advice of a friend, at whose house he concealed himself, Gustavus repaired to Mora, where an annual feast of the peasantry was held. There, as his last resource, he displayed with so much nature, eloquence, and energy, the miseries of his country, and the tyranny of Christian, that the assembly instantly determined to take up arms, and adopted him as their leader. While their hearts were glowing with an ardent patriotism, Gustavus led them against the governor's castle, which they stormed, and took or destroyed the whole garrison.

Success increased his forces; multitudes were eager to enlist under the banner of the conquering hero, Gustavus. At the head of his little army he overran the neighbouring provinces, defeated the Archbishop of Upsal, and advanced to Stockholm. Christian, who had in vain attempted to stop the progress of Gustavus by threats of killing his mother and sisters, at length put the dreadful menace into execution. The cruel deed animated Gustavus to a severer revenge. He assembled the States of Sweden at Wadstena, where he was unanimously chosen administrator; and after a variety of military transactions he laid seige to Stockholm. Stockholm surrendered; the Danes were completely expelled from Sweden; Gustavus was raised to the throne in the year 1523; and peace and order was restored to his long afflicted country.

ODE ON THE PASSIONS.

COLLINS.

an'-on... ..again and again,

quickly

drear'-y.....wretched, depressing de-ject'-ed.. ..cast down, depressed, worn with sorrow sub-du'-ing...softening, taming

un-alt'-ered........... unchanged
mien ..look, bearing, appearance
strained.....pressed outward to
the utmost

veer'-ing......changing from one
subject to another
se-quest-ered.. .........retired,
secluded

pens-ive.........sad, wrapped in
thought

run'-nels.... ..brooks, small streamlets

dif-fu'-sing...spreading around spright'-li-er......livelier, more cheerful

bus'-kins......boots reaching half
way up the leg

gemmed ...jewelled, adorned
in-spir'-ing....cheering, rousing
beech'-en....made of beech wood
ec-stat-ic....rapturous, fraught
with excess of pleasure
en-tran'-cing .....charming,
delighting

un-wear'-ied. .....untired, free
from fatigue

fan-tast'-ic.....fanciful, strange

an'-cient
mim'-ic..

..of olden time

..apt at imitation

re-cord'-ing.....noting down for
the purpose of preserving
lag'-gard.........sluggish, tardy,
backward

When Music, heavenly maid, was young,
While yet in early Greece she sung,
The Passions oft, to hear her shell,
Thronged around her magic cell,
Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,
Possessed beyond the Muse's painting :
By turns they felt the glowing mind
Disturbed, delighted, raised, refined;

Till once, 'tis said, when all were fired,
Filled with fury, rapt, inspired,

From the supporting myrtles round
They snatched her instruments of sound;
And, as they oft had heard apart
Sweet lessons of her forceful art,
Each for Madness ruled the hour-
Would prove his own expressive power.

First Fear his hand, its skill to try,
Amidst the chords bewildered laid,
And back recoiled, he knew not why,

E'en at the sound himself had made.

Next Anger rushed—his eyes on fire
In lightnings owned his secret stings-
In one rude clash he struck the lyre,
And swept with hurried hand the strings.

With woeful measures wan Despair

Low, sullen sounds his grief beguiled;
A solemn, strange, and mingled air-
'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild.

But thou, O Hope! with eyes so fair,
What was thy delightful measure?
Still it whispered promised pleasure,

And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ;
Still would her touch the scene prolong;
And from the rocks, the wood, the vale,
She called on Echo still through all the song;

And where her sweetest theme she chose,

A soft responsive voice was heard at ev'ry close; And Hope, enchanted, smiled, and waved her golden hair.

And longer had she sung-but, with a frown,

Revenge impatient rose :

He threw his blood-stained sword in thunder down,