laws were scarcely less destructive of human life. At this very period, when by the mercy of God the light of truth began to enlighten the Gentiles, and the feet of apostolic men first trod the shores of Britain, a Roman of high rank was murdered by a domestic slave, to whom he had promised liberty, but had not kept his promise. According to the law of their forefathers, when a slave lifted his hand against his master, the whole of the family of slaves were to be put to death with the offender; and on this occasion, though the people rose in tumult against the law, the Senate and the Prince were deaf to the calls

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of mercy. A body of soldiers restrained the multitude, while four hundred innocent persons were led to death; and among them many aged men, women, and children, that no master of slaves might in future feel himself exposed to a like peril. Such was the state of the world, civil or barbarous, when the Gospel was first preached abroad among the nations, and St. Paul wrote to commend the slave Onesimus to the brotherly love of his master Philemon. was then, when the earth was full of violence and cruel habitations, that the Prince of Peace came to set up his throne.-Rev. E. Churton.

It

FEMALE SERVANTS.

Ir has been estimated, that in London alone there are no fewer than one hundred thousand female servants. Upon their fidelity, punctuality, and good conduct, depend, to a considerable extent, the security and comfort of many thousand families. But this is not all to female servants is committed the care, and in some respects, the guidance of the

:

rising generation; and if the morals of the nursery and the kitchen be not pure, it is in vain that pure morality is taught and practised in the drawing-room or the parlour. This subject has not been considered as its importance demands; indeed, it has been strangely neglected, and the neglect has been signally visited in a vast variety of melancholy instances.-Miss Martineau.

THE WOLF.

His

THAT he is susceptible of as strong attachment as the dog, is proved by the following anecdote related by Cuvier. He informs us, that a young wolf was brought up as a dog, became familiar with every person whom he was in the habit of seeing, and, in particular, followed his master everywhere, evincing evident chagrin at his absence, obeying his voice, and showing a degree of submission scarcely differing in any respect from that of the domesticated dog. master, being obliged to be absent for a time, presented his pet to the Menagerie du Roi, where the animal, confined in a den, continued disconsolate, and would scarcely eat his food. At length, however, his health returned, he became attached to his keepers, and appeared to have forgotten all his former affection, when, after an absence of eighteen months, his master returned. At the first word he uttered, the wolf, who had not perceived him amongst the crowd, recognised him, and exhibited the most lively joy. On being set at liberty, the most affectionate caresses were lavished on his old master, such as the most attached dog would have shown after an absence of a few days. A second separation was followed by similar demonVOL. I.

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strations of sorrow, which, however, again yielded to time. Three years passed, and the wolf was living happily in company with a dog which had been placed with him, when his master again returned, and again the long-lost but still remembered voice was instantly replied to by the most impatient cries, which were redoubled as soon as the poor animal was set at liberty, when rushing to his master, he threw his fore-feet on his shoulders, licking his face with the most lively joy, and menacing his keepers, who offered to remove him, and towards whom, not a moment before, he had been showing every mark of fondness. A third separation, however, seemed to be too much for this faithful animal's temper. He became gloomy, desponding, refused his food, and for a long time his life appeared in great danger. His health at last returned; but he no longer suffered the caresses of any but his keepers, and towards strangers manifested the original savageness of his species.-Jesse's Anecdotes of Dogs.

THE COCOA-NUT IN CEYLON. NEARLY all the domestic wants of the Singalese can be supplied by the cocoa-nut tree. He can build his house entirely of it.

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The walls and doors are made of cajans, the leaves platted; the roof is covered with the same; the beams, rafters, &c., are made of the trunk. He needs no bed, as he can use the coirrope made from the outside husk. If he wants a spout, he hollows the trunk split in two. It also supplies him with many of his household articles. He makes his oil from the kernel; the hard shell supplies him with spoons, and cups, and drinking-vessels,

and lamps, and water-buckets; the refuse of the kernels, after the oil is expressed, (called punak,) serves for food for fowls and pigs; the milk from the kernel is used in his food. In short, if a man have a few cocoa-nut trees in his garden, he will never starve. Arrack, a strong spirit, resembling whiskey, is made from toddy, the juice of the flower; and brooms are made from the ribs (irita) of the leaflets.-Recollections of Ceylon.

THE BEAVER.

DURING a visit paid a few years ago in the middle of a very protracted frost to the Zoological Gardens, I happened to find the keeper busily occupied in cleaning away a quantity of mud from the door of the beavers' house. On inquiry I discovered that the industrious animals, finding themselves inconvenienced by the cold air forcing its way through the keyhole and chinks of the door, had employed themselves in stopping up all the interstices on the outside, so that it was only after some considerable trouble that the keeper was enabled to turn the key in the lock. Being on the spot a few days after, I was amused to perceive that the beavers, nothing discouraged by the demolition of their architectural labours, in the first instance, had again set to work, and covered the whole surface of the door with a thick coating of plaster, which had been hardened by the frost into a solid cement. Though these outworks were repeatedly destroyed, the creatures continued with undiminished perseverance to fortify their dwelling against the cold, and so late as the month of March I found the doors completely blocked up. Indeed, those who had the charge of them found it an unprofitable labour to persist in cleaning away the accumulated mud, as no sooner was a portion removed, than the breach was instantly repaired anew. habitation allotted to the beavers is a low oven-shaped hut, divided into two apartments, with a view that the two individuals might live apart. They have, however, preferred

The

dwelling together, in one of the divisions of the building, and they seem to have been influenced in their choice, from finding that two of the entrances to it were supplied with doors, and therefore that less labour would be required in rendering it fit for their occupation. The other side, which has two enclosed entrances, is turned by them into a store-house: they convey thither the supplies of wood and bark which are given them as food, and preserve them there until needed.

The animals have covered over the two doors of their dwelling apartment, but have left open the entrance which faces a small tank or pool of water, contained within the enclosure in which they are confined.

I was curious to examine the materials of which the little plasterers had availed themselves in their operations. I found that they had procured the mud from the bottom of the tank, bringing up handfuls at a time. This they had carefully tempered, and intermixed with thin shreds and splinters of wood, the remains of the faggots which had been given them as food, and from which they had gnawed off the bark and nutritious portions, leaving only the woody fibres, which, however, they turned also to account. The use of the introduction of these shreds, was evidently to give stability to the plaster, to make the mud bind; and in this respect they served the same purpose as the straw which the Egyptians employed as one of the necessary ingredients in the composition of bricks.

As the object to be gained by the beavers was merely to render the door weather-tight, no sort of frame-work was required in this process, and they seem to have used very few large sticks, but merely this kind of mortar, consisting of the slime interspersed with woody fibres.

Much has been said of the effects which captivity produces in depraving the instinct peculiar to the beaver in its wild state. I think, however, that it must be evident from the facts which have been stated above, that the animals were influenced by a feeling that the habitation prepared for them differed from that to which they had been accustomed in their native country. The improvements which they introduced into their dwelling may serve to correct an error in natural history which had been pointed out by Hearne; namely, that the beaver forms more than one entrance to its house. The proceeding of the animal in this instance, in closing up two outlets, tends to corroborate the assertion of the northern traveller.

Independent of these external arrangements, in order to make themselves more comfortable, they have effected what may be styled the fitting-up of the inside of their house. They have introduced, from time to time, large quantities of supple twigs, or any soft substance that happened to fall within their reach, so as to form a bed, which they have heaped up nearly a foot from the floor, so that it is on a level with the top of the doorway; it slopes down, however, gradually toward the entrance. An advantage is gained by this contrivance; this elevation places them, in a certain degree, out of the influence of the cold air; and the declination of the bed towards the water, looks like a precaution derived from their situation in North America, a provision to guard against the sudden inroads of water, caused by the swelling of the streams on whose bank they may have settled. Though there is no risk of an irruption of the pond which now lies at their door, the instinct which teaches them to provide against such an event still remains.

Numerous are the fictitious wonders which swell many of the relations of the habits and structure of the beaver: a history sufficiently curious and interesting, might be written without the addition of any exaggerations. Among other gratuitous assertions, it has been maintained by some, that the animal makes use of its tail as a trowel, to work up the materials with which it builds. Were this the case, the tail, which is covered with scales, by no means hard, would soon exhibit proofs of the uses to which it was applied; but, in fact, these scales are never found rubbed or injured. During the process of building last winter, the beaver employed its tail in no such hard service. All their materials were conveyed in their forepaws; and, though these are small, yet the animals managed, by holding them together, and close up against the throat,

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to transport considerable masses of mud at once. The tail is, however, by no means a useless member. In its shape it bears some resemblance to the blade of an oar or paddle, and, like it, is adapted to take hold of the water. A great portion of the beaver's life is spent in that element. On land, it is a clumsy animal, slow in its movements, and easily overtaken by its enemies. Conscious of this, its first impulse, when an alarm is given, or an enemy at hand, is to plunge into the water. Then it dives and swims with great facility: and it may easily be supposed how advantageous it is to the creature to possess so powerful a rudder as its broad flat tail. By means of this instrument, it is enabled to sink to the bottom, or pursue its course under water with the greatest celerity, and with equal quickness to raise itself to the surface when out of reach of its enemies. The root also (nuphar luteum) which composes the principal part of the beast's food, grows at the bottom of streams of water, where are also placed the stores of bush and branches of trees, which the animal collects as part of the provision for winter.

The beaver appears to be singularly scrupulous in preserving the inside of its house perfectly clean and dry. I have observed it on leaving the water to enter its hut, pause on the threshold until it had shaken off all the drops of water from its sides and tail, after which it took itself contentedly to its couch.

INDIAN INGENUITY versus URSINE SAGACITY.

Displayed in the Escape of a North American Indian from a Bear.

THREE kinds of bears are found to exist in the forests of North America, known as the White, the Black, and the Grisly. The last of these is supposed to be the most powerful and ferocious of the three, and evinces a preference for human flesh, which the others do not, and, in consequence, is more dreaded than they are. It differs from them also in the fact, that it is unable to climb trees as they do. Hence, when other means of escape from it fail, the Indian, when pursued by one, if possible gets into a tree, and there remains until rescued by some of his countrymen, who, when his situation is discovered, unite to drive away or destroy his

enemy.

The following account was given by Peter Jacobs, Assistant Missionary in the vast territories of the Hudson's Bay Company, when in this country about two years since.

One of my countrymen (said Peter) was on the look-out for game, and when cautiously looking over a certain ridge, he saw several deer in a plain before him; but at the same, time also discovered a large grisly bear, evidently watching his movements. Instantly

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he cast his eyes around to see if there was a tree sufficiently near to which he might flee for safety; but he happened to be at a considerable distance from the nearest one that would have answered his purpose. No time was to be lost, and therefore, he ran off immediately at his utmost speed; and Indian (added Peter) can run very fast. The bear followed, and was gaining ground upon him so rapidly, that the Indian saw he should be overtaken before he could reach the tree. Providentially, there was a large hollow trunk of an old tree at hand, and he cast himself on the ground and crept into it. Up comes the bear, and thrusts in its paw to lay hold, but could not reach him; then he tried the other end, and could but just touch the top of his head, on feeling which, the Indian shrunk back from its reach. After trying in vain at both ends, the bear set the trunk on one end, and with violent jolting, attempted to shake the Indian down, and in this succeeded; but when the trunk fell horizontally, he crept in as before. The bear then tried to tear the trunk to pieces; but it was too firm for him. For some time he was quiet, as if pondering what to do. There was a small lake, or beaver-pond, in the vicinity, into which the bear rolled the trunk, and pressing it down with his feet held it under water a considerable time till the Indian was nearly drowned; then raised one end, and looking in saw the man, but still could not reach him. It then

pressed the trunk into the water a second time, with the intention, as the Indian believed, to drown him outright. He therefore slipped out at the opposite end, diving deep until he got among some weeds, when he rose gently to the surface to breathe, covering his head with weeds, and saw the bear still holding the trunk in the water, and kept it in, said the Indian, long enough to drown two men. At length the bear looked into the trunk again, and found his prey gone. Not seeing the Indian, but supposing him to be in the lake, he went to the dam, or bank, cast up by the sagacity and labour of the beaver, and began, with his paws, to tear it away, to let out the water. Having opened a passage, and the water having begun to flow out, the bear seemed wearied, and, retiring a short distance, lay down to rest, and wait the draining of the pond.

The Indian once more had recourse to diving, at which, the narrator said, he was very expert; and proceeding towards the opening in the bank which his enemy had made, slipped through with the water into the channel of the stream below,unperceived, and gained, he supposed, about an hour, when he fell in with some other Indians, to whom he related how he had escaped; and while so doing, lo! the bear was seen approaching, following on his track or scent. The other Indians gave it the meeting, and shot the pursuer.

SAMUEL BROADBENT.

THE TIGER-SLAYER.

coarse

We

THE morning after our arrival, it was signified to us that there was a large royal tiger in a nullah near the town. This was soon confirmed by the appearance of a native who was preparing to attack it single-handed. The man was short, not robust, but compactly made, sinewy and active, having a countenance remarkable for its expression of calm determination. He was entirely naked above the hips, below which he simply wore linen trousers, reaching about half-way down the thigh. He was armed with a ponderous knife, the blade of which was exceedingly wide and thick, with an edge almost as keen as a razor. On the left arm he bore a small conical shield, about eighteen inches in diameter, covered with hide, and studded with brass, having a point of the same metal projecting from the boss. My companions and myself walked with this intrepid little Hindoo to the lair of the sleeping foe. were the less apprehensive of any personal danger, knowing that the tiger is a very cowardly animal, and seldom makes an open attack; and, farther, that it always prefers attacking a native to an European. We soon reached the nullah, and discovered the beautiful beast at the extremity, basking in the sun. Its proportions were prodigious. I have never seen one larger. The nullah was narrow, but the bottom tolerably free from inequalities, so that the area was more than usually favourable for the operations of the undaunted tiger-slayer. As soon as we reached the spot, the man boldly leaped into the hollow, at the same time uttering a shrill cry in order to arouse his enemy from its slumbers. Upon seeing its resolute aggressor slowly advance, the animal raised itself upon its fore-legs with a terrific howl. As the little Hindoo continued to approach, which he did slowly, and with his dark eyes keenly fixed upon the face of his formidable foe, the tiger rose to its full height, and began to lash its sides furiously with its tail, yet it evidentally appeared to be in a state of embarrassment. Still the man advanced deliberately, but undauntedly: the uneasiness and rage of the excited beast increased with every step. At length it crouched, evidently with a determination to make its terrific spring. The man suddenly stopped, when the tiger paused, turned up its head, and, uttering a horrible noise, between a snarl and a howl, made one step forward, and sprang towards its victim, who instantly bent his body, received the animal's paws upon his shield, dashed the knife into its body, and fell under, but almost entirely beyond the extremities of his wounded enemy. The creature turned upon its back, the little Hindoo regained his feet in an instant, striking the prostrate tiger with astonishing quickness and precision a desperate blow upon the throat, which completely severed

the windpipe, at the same moment springing with the quickness of thought beyond the reach of the monster's claws. The tiger died almost immediately. When assured that it was positively past doing any more mischief, (for it had done much in its time,) we descended into the nullah. The gash in the animal's body was terrific; the lower region of the heart had been wounded, and

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the intestines cut through. By way of a trophy, the victor deliberately skinned his dead enemy, which he soon accomplished, and with great dexterity, and then returned, in the pride of power, with the token of victory upon his shoulders. He obtained from us two or three pagodas, which he considered a most liberal reward for his bravery. -From the Oriental Annual.

MEMOIR OF WILLIAM FORD,
Of Midsomer-Norton.

BY THE REV. HUGH JONES.

ONE of the many beautiful characteristics of our blessed Christianity, is its universal adaptation. It meets the case of man everywhere, whatever his complexion and whatever the measure of his civilization; and it is adapted to men of every grade in society. "The truth as it is in Jesus" sanctifies, elevates, adorns, and renders happy; alike in the case of the individual of rank and fortune and lofty attainment, and in that of the humble peasant, rude and uncultivated. Nor can we always say in which instance the blessed influence of our divine religion is most signally manifested.

William Ford, the subject of this notice, was a man moving in a humble sphere. He was a native of Darminster; and was born, it would seem, in the year 1773. Of his early history very little is known. He was accustomed to say that when quite a young man, he cherished a bitter dislike to Methodists and Methodism. At this period he was in the service of a Wesleyan as carter. The Methodist Ministers occasionally visited his master, and he evinced his hatred to the cause and people he afterwards so much loved by beating the horses of the Ministers, when brought to the stable. When about five-and-twenty, he entered the service of Mr. Hollwey, of Midsomer-Norton. For several years after this, though remarkably attentive to his duties as a servant, Ford remained a stranger to religion. The circumstance which led to his conversion, which occurred in the year 1814, was the threatening affliction of one of his children. The father apprehended his son to be dying, and was deeply affected by the thought that he was wholly unprepared for the change. In a manner very extraordinary for a man of his habits, at one moment he would exhort his son to consider the awful consequence of dying unsaved, the next he would most earnestly implore in his behalf the mercy of God. A friend expressed to the agitated father his belief that this was a dispensation of Divine Providence, designed to lead him to reflection, and at the same time urged upon

him the necessity of praying for himself. Nor was this appropriate counsel given in vain. William became truly penitent, and presented to God what was indeed "a broken and contrite heart." Such was now his anxiety to obtain mercy, that whilst at plough in the field, he would take advantage of the few moments when the horses were turning at the end of a furrow to fall upon his knees, supplicating forgiveness. At length came deliverance and joy. This was one Sabbath night. During the day he had heard a sermon on the text in Hosea x. 12: "Sow to yourselves in righteousness, reap in mercy; break up your fallow ground: for it is time to seek the Lord, till he come and rain righteousness upon you." This discourse was just suited to his state of mind, and was moreover rendered easy of apprehension, and interesting by its agricultural allusions. That night he was enabled to believe "with the heart unto righteousness." And now his lips were opened to declare the salvation of God. When visited on the following morning by the friend to whom allusion has been made, Ford exclaimed, "O how I have longed to see you, that I might tell you what God has done for my soul!" He then began to say how happy he was; and being at that time engaged in digging, he struck his spade into the ground, exclaiming, "O, it's no work! the sods go over of themselves.' On his religious awakening, William immediately united himself to a Methodist class, and maintained his connexion with the Wesleyan church upwards of thirty years. He was diligent in his attendance upon the means of grace, and greatly delighted in the communion of saints, so amply furnished in the classes and lovefeasts of our body. His Leader remarks,— "William Ford's constant attendance at his class furnished an example to his fellowmembers; whilst the manner in which he expressed his feelings, his hopes and his fears, will not soon be forgotten by them. His was not the language of a languid, doubtful hope, but that which bespoke a strong confidence in God."

The subject of this paper was exemplary in his attention to his social and relative duties. Few men have filled their allotted stations in