tively viewing this new display of retributive justice, when a sudden roar shook the air, and a huge tiger, rushing from the thicket, came like thunder on the lynx. The Bramin was near enough to hear the crashing bones, and was making off in great terror, when he met an English soldier, armed with his musket. He pointed eagerly to the place where the tiger was making his bloody repast. The soldier levelled his gun, and laid the tiger dead. "Brave fellow exclaimed the Bramin. "I am very hungry," said the soldier, can you give me a beef-steak? I see you have plenty of cows here.” "Horrible!" cried the Bramin; "what! I kill the sacred cows of Brama!" “Then kill the next tiger yourself," said the soldier.

TRUE HEROISM.

You have read, my Edmund, the stories of Achilles, and Alexander, and Charles of Sweden, and have, I doubt not, admired the high courage, which seemed to set them above all sensations of fear, and rendered them capable of the most extraordinary actions. The world calls these men heroes; but, before we give them that noble appellation, let us consider what were the motives which animated them to act and suffer as they did.

The first was a ferocious savage, governed by the passions of anger and revenge, in gratifying which he disregarded all impulses of duty and humanity. The second was intoxicated with the love of glory-swollen with absurd pride-and enslaved by dissolute pleasures, and, in pursuit of these objects, he reckoned the blood of millions as of no account. The third was unfeeling, obstinate, and tyrannical, and preferred ruining his country, and sacrificing all his faithful followers, to the humiliation of giving up any of his mad projects. Self, you see, was the spring of all their conduct; and a selfish man can never be a hero. I will give you two examples of genuine heroism, one

shown in acting, the other in suffering; and these shall be true stories, which is, perhaps, more than can be said of half that is recorded of Achilles and Alexander.

You have probably heard something of Mr. Howard, the reformer of prisons, to whom a monument may be seen in St. Paul's church. His whole life, almost, was heroism; for he confronted all sorts of dangers, with the sole view of relieving the miseries of his fellowcreatures. When he began to examine the state of prisons, scarcely any in this country was free from a very fatal and infectious distemper, called the gaolfever. Wherever he heard of it, he made a point of seeing the poor sufferers, and often went down into their dungeons, when the keepers themselves would not accompany him. He travelled several times over almost the whole of Europe, and even into Asia, in order to gain knowledge of the state of prisons and hospitals, and point out means for lessening the calamities that prevail in them. He even went into countries where the plague was, that he might learn the best methods of treating that terrible contagious disease; and he voluntarily exposed himself to perform a strict quarantine, as one suspected of having the infection of the plague, only that he might be thoroughly acquainted with the methods used for prevention. He at length died of a fever, caught in attending on the sick on the borders of Crim Tartary, honoured and admired by all Europe, after having greatly contributed to enlighten his own and many other countries, with respect to some of the most important objects of humanity. Such was Howard the Good; as great a hero in preserving mankind, as some of the false heroes above mentioned were in destroying them.

My second hero is a much humbler, but not less genuine one.

There was a journeyman bricklayer, in this town, an able workman, but a very drunken, idle fellow, who spent at the alehouse almost all he earned, and left his wife and children to shift for themselves as they could.

This is, unfortunately, a common case; and of all the tyranny and cruelty exercised in the world, I believe that of bad husbands and fathers is by much the most frequent and the worst.

The family might have starved, but for his eldest son, whom from a child the father brought up to help him in his work, and who was so industrious and attentive, that being now at the age of thirteen or fourteen, he was able to earn pretty good wages, every farthing of which, that he could keep out of his father's hands, he brought to his mother. And when his brute of a father came home drunk, cursing and swearing, and in such an ill humour that his mother and the rest of the children durst not come near him, for fear of a beating, this good lad (Tom was his name) kept near him, to pacify him, and get him quietly to bed. His mother, therefore, justly looked upon Tom as the support of the family, and loved him dearly.

It chanced that one day, Tom, in climbing up a high ladder with a load of mortar in his hod, missed his hold, and fell down to the bottom, on a heap of bricks and rubbish. The bystanders ran up to him and found him all bloody, and with his thigh broken, and bent quite under him. They raised him up, and sprinkled water in his face, to recover him from a swoon into which he had fallen. As soon as he could speak, looking around, with a lamentable tone he cried, “O, what will become of my poor mother!"

He was carried home. I was present while the surgeon set his thigh. His mother was hanging over him half distracted. 66 Don't cry, mother," said he, "I shall get well again in time." Not a word more, or a groan, escaped him while the operation lasted. Tom was a ragged boy, that could not read or write; yet Tom has always stood on my list of heroes.

249

NINETEENTH EVENING.

ON METALS.-PART I.

GEORGE and Harry, with their Tutor, one day in their walk were driven by the rain to take shelter in a blacksmith's shed. The shower lasting some time, the boys, in order to amuse themselves, began to examine the things around them. The great bellows first attracted their notice, and they admired the roaring it made, and the expedition with which it raised the fire to a heat too intense for them to look at. They were surprised at the dexterity with which the smith fashioned a bar of iron into a horse-shoe; first heating it, then hammering it well on the anvil, cutting off a proper length, bending it round, turning up the ends, and, lastly, punching the nail-holes. They watched the whole process of fitting it to the horse's foot, and fastening it on; and it had become fair some minutes before they showed a desire to leave the shop and proceed on their walk.

"I could never have thought," said George, beginning the conversation, " that such a hard thing as iron could have been so easily managed."

"Nor I, neither," said Harry.

Tut. It was managed, you saw, by the help of fire. The fire made it soft and flexible, so that the smith could easily hammer it, and cut it, and bend it to the shape he wanted; and then dipping it in water, made it hard again.

G. Are all other metals managed in the same manner?

T. They are all worked by the help of fire in some way or other, either in melting them, or making them soft.

G. There are many sorts of metals, are there not?

T. Yes, several; and, if you have a mind, I will tell you about some of them, and their uses.

G. Pray do, sir.

H. Yes; I should like to hear it, of all things.

T. Well, then; first, let us consider what a metal is. Do you think you should know one from a stone? G. A stone! Yes, I could not mistake a piece of lead or iron for a stone.

T. How would you distinguish it?

G. A metal is bright and shining.

T. True; brilliancy is one of the qualities of metals. But glass and crystal are very bright, too.

H. But one may see through glass, and not through a piece of metal.

T. Right. Metals are brilliant, but opaque, or not transparent. The thinnest plate of metal that can be made, will keep out the light as effectually as a stone wall.

G. Metals are very heavy, too.

T. True. They are the heaviest bodies in nature; for the lightest metal is nearly twice as heavy as the heaviest stone. Well, what else?

G. Why, they will bear beating with a hammer, which a stone would not, without flying in pieces.

T. Yes; that property of extending, or spreading, under the hammer is called malleability; and another, like it, is that of bearing to be drawn out into a wire, which is called ductility. Metals have both these, and much of their use depends upon them.

G. Metals will melt, too.

H. What! will iron melt ?

T. Yes; all metals will melt, though some require greater heat than others. The property of melting is called fusibility. Do you know anything more about them?

G. No; except that they come out of the ground, I believe.

T. That is properly added; for it is this circumstance which makes them rank among fossils, or minerals.