birds greeted him, as he drew near their coverts, with their sweetest songs. The grass started into life as if by magic, and put on its brightest verdure to welcome him onward. The withered shrubs burst forth into loveliness and beauty as he approached; and, under the enchantment of his breath, the trees arrayed themselves in their coronals of leaves and fragrant blossoms. The daisy and lily bloomed in his track; and the fountains on the hill-side gushed up, where he passed, and went on their way, laughing, and singing, and babbling the praise of the Thaw-King. Every living thing, after months of suspended animation, resumed its wonted activity and energy. The perpetual song of Nature, reverberating from hill and dale, and from stream to stream, was-RESUME, RESUME, RESUME! And, lo! how sudden and magical the general resumption, as the King of the Thaw gave out the vivifying word. May prepared to resume her velvet "sandal shoon," her green slippers, and her gorgeous drapery of blushing flowers. Again she went forth with her step of pride, her mien of surpassing loveliness and beauty, walking abroad like a queen, with her lilied scarf and her blossoming wreath. The streams and brooks merry dance and their glad music -the birds their old familiar songs and their gay plumage. The swallow resumes his twittering, the bee his hum, the flower, which he resume their Its an EVERY summer I go to grandma's. old-fashioned cottage, with large garden behind, and a maypole at the side. Its not very handsome in its external appearance; but is the home of comfort and happiness. The shadows of the trees trip over the lawn like a band of merry children, and grandma sits on a summer afternoon by the front window, with her white cap, and the brown silk handkerchief pinned over her black dress, and that quiet, sweet smile, that always makes me think of the angels flowing round her lips. I am the youngest of the family, and they all say I am grandma's favourite. Squire Blanton lives next to grandma's, just down the road, and Harry drops in almost every day, though Betty says he don't come in now more than once a month, when I am not MOTHER-O'-PEARL. In the oyster is found that beautiful substance called mother-o'-pearl. The pearls are searched for by divers educated to it as a profession; they descend from thirty to sixty feet, each bringing up a net full of oysters. The pearl is most commonly attached to the inside of the shell, but is most perfect when found in the animal itself. The exertion undergone during this process is so violent, that, upon being brought into the boat, the divers discharge water from their mouths, ears, and nostrils, and frequently blood: this does not, however, hinder them from going down in their turn; and the poor creatures will often make from forty to fifty plunges in a day. How different, could these divers avail themselves of a recent wonderful invention, and which is now being exhibited in the Metropolis, which enables a diver to remain under water for an hour or more without any communication with the external air; and to walk about with perfect liberty. But the violence of the exertion of the pearl-divers (by which, although the most robust and healthy young men are chosen for this employment, yet they seldom survive it five or six years) is not the only thing they have to dread; they are also exposed to the attacks of sharks, which, if they are not successful in every attempt to extinguish at once the vital spark, and so put an end to a life so little to be envied, frequently deprive these unhappy beings of a limb, and suffer them only to escape from their jaws in a mutilated state. Thus the use of this gem as an ornament will be attended with considerable pain, if connected with the suffering that humanity endures for procuring it. When you look at those pearls so beautifully set in a bracelet or other form, think that for that, a fellow-creature has periled his life. SAMARIA. TIBERIAS is but a short day's ride from Nazareth, to the east. We left the Latin convent at ten in the morning, and arrived at the lake by four in the afternoon; not such a distance as we should travel in a day any where else; but enough for a land where there are no roads at all, and where your baggage is in such danger of robbers that you must keep near it, or expect never to see it again. Sychar or Shechem is twice as far as Tiberias from Nazareth; and yet, as it was when the Gospels were written, you cannot go down from Galilee to Jerusalem, but, like Jesus, you "must needs go through Samaria." So that the words in the fourth chapter of John are still literally true. You would be obliged this journey in a chair by one's fireside than upon a horse or camel, over rocks, through rivers, and across marshes; sometimes in the burning sun for hours, then again travelling all day in face of a violent rain, and lying down at night in not half so good a place as a barn at home-lying down commonly in a stone hut, upon the earth-floor, in the smoke of a little fire of brush, with no food except what you carry, and no defence from annoying insects. And yet, many women and children are all the time travelling on some part of this way, to pray at the place where Jesus was born, to weep over Jerusalem, sorrow at Gethsemane, bow down as near as possible to where the temple stood, and perhaps to die, gladly and triumphantly, near the Holy Sepulchre. People from Europe or America generally take one horse for each person, and one for his or her baggage; and the man who takes care of your "things" frequently rides on the trunk and bed of the traveller: and when the poor animals get tired from this double burden, they sometimes roll off the lazy, smoking and droning rider into the river or marsh. But the real pilgrims are often too poor to travel so, and some of them go up to Mount Zion on foot, and very many on camels in long caravans, the women and children being secured in light, cane boxes, with the baggage on the back of this tall, awkward, tire |