of the little bay of Ives, in Cornwall, seven thousand hogsheads of these fish were caught, numbering two and a half millions. The average amount of the exports of these fish from England annually, is not far from thirty thousand hogsheads. The business of fishing for the pilchard affords a great many families in that country almost their only means of support; and when, as it happens now and then, these fish do not return at their regular season, in very considerable numbers, there is invariably great distress among the fishermen. The means by which alone they support their families are cut off, and they are reduced sometimes to the very verge of starvation. When, on the other hand, these fish are abundant, the fishermen make money enough, in two or three months, to support them and their families all the rest of the year.

There is a species of shark, called the dog-fish, which does great mischief among the pilchards. He, too, is a very expert fisherman. He and his companions will follow a shoal of their favorite pilchards for miles, and catch multitudes of the little innocent creatures. There is a great hubbub among the pilchard family when the dogfish are in their vicinity. The poor fellows will leap out of the water, sometimes, to avoid their cruel enemies. Their efforts to escape, however, do not avail them much. They fall an easy prey, let them scramble as they will, to the superior coolness and quickness of motion always exhibited by the dog-fish.

The herring has been very much abused and despised; but, for all that, he is quite a respectable fish, and has made a great deal of noise in the world. I suppose you will accuse me of having a somewhat barbarous taste, when I tell you, that I often enjoy a lunch of broiled herring. It is a fact, though, and when on shipboard, with little or no appetite on account of sea-sickness, I have often relished a piece of herring, when I could not find any thing else that I could eat. My opinion is, that the herring belongs to that class of chaps that are more sinned against than sinning. They don't seem very inviting, it is true, when we look upon them as they are closely packed in a box, standing on a shelf in a fourth-rate country grocery. They don't, that I confess. But there are worse fish in the world than herring, for all that. By the way, I have often wondered what was the origin of the well-known comparison," as dead as a herring," or, as it is sometimes phrased, "dead as a red herring." I suppose the force of the comparison must be, that a herring dried, smoked, salted, and packed, is about as far removed from the state of a liv

THE HERRING.

ing animal as it is possible to get; and really, when we come to examine him in that condition, he is rather a dry specimen.

The Dutch were the originators of the herring fishery. For a great many years they entirely controlled that branch of commerce. At length the English, however, seeing that the business was a profitable one, determined to have a share in it, and ever since that time, it has formed a very important branch of British commerce.

The winter residence of the herring is within the arctic circle, whence they annually migrate along the shores of this continent, as far south as the Carolinas, and in Europe, as far as the north of France. They come in immense shoals, the appearance of which is always announced by large flocks of gulls and other rapacious birds, which continually hover over them, watching the opportunity of seizing them, as soon as they come to the surface of the water. Poor fellows! they have a hard time of it. The sharks and blue-fish chase them while they are in the water, and the birds fall upon them as soon as they leap out of it. When a large shoal of herring appear in the ocean, the water sparkles with various colors, like a bed of precious stones, from the reflection of the rays of the sun on the scales of the fish.

But I must not talk any longer about fish and fisheries. I must stop, or you will yawn, and ask me if we are not almost in sight of land. There are several other species of fish, which are of great value for food, among which are the sprat or sardine, so abundant in the Mediterranean. But I think I will stop short, and let you learn about them from some one else.

LORD BROUGHAM'S CARRIAGE.-On Sidney Smith's observing Lord Brougham's one-horse carriage, he remarked to a friend, alluding to the B surmounted by a coronet on the panel, "There goes a carriage with a B outside and a wasp within."

GERARD, THE LION-KILLER.

HE most intensely interesting book which I have read for many a day, is that which records the deeds of the famous lion-killer in Africa, Monsieur Gerard, of France. Whoever wishes to learn all about the king of beasts must read this book. Not only will he gain a vast amount of information from these pages, respecting the habits of the lion, but he will be under obligations to Gerard for enabling him to unlearn some things which are untrue, but which have hitherto passed current. Among the stories told in this volume, is the following, which is finely illustrated, as indeed most of Gerard's stories are:

A native, by the name of Smail, went some distance from home to be married. In returning with his bride, night came on. The party had advanced to within three miles of the house of the bridegroom, when a huge lion presented himself in their path. What was to be done? They were about half way between the houses of the bridegroom and the bride. It was equally dangerous to return or to advance. There were eight or ten guns belonging to the party, all loaded with ball. The bride was placed in the middle of a hollow square, and the escort marched on, headed by the gallant bridegroom. They came to within thirty paces of the lion, and yet he had not moved. Smail ordered the party to halt; and then, saying to his wife, "Judge whether you have married a man or not," he walked straight up to the beast, summoned him, in a loud voice, to clear the road, and to allow him and his party to pass. At twenty paces the lion raised his monstrous head, and prepared to spring. Smail, in spite of the cries of his wife and the entreaties of his friends, who counseled him to retreat, bent one knee to the earth, took aim, and fired. The lion, wounded by the shot, sprang on the husband, hurled him to the earth, and tore him in pieces in the twinkling of an eye. Then he charged on the group, in the middle of which stood the trembling bride. "Let no one fire," shouted the father of Smail, "until he is within gun's length." But the terrified men had not

self-command sufficient to obey this advice. They all fired at once, utterly regardless where their balls went. Then the lion fell on the group, dashing them hither and thither with his monstrous paws, and breaking the bones and tearing the flesh of all whom he could reach.

Some of them, however, escaped, carrying with them the bride, half dead with terror. In a moment more, and the lion was after them. There was no refuge and no defense; and the wounded beast seized and tore in pieces one after another, until but one man was left of all the party. He, more fortunate than the others, reached the foot of a steep rock, on which he placed the woman, and then began climbing up after her. He had already reached a considerable height, when the lion gained the foot of the rock, as furious as ever. With a single bound, he seized the unfortunate man by the leg, and dragged him backward to the ground, while the woman reached the summit of the rock, where she viewed the horrid scene which was transpiring below. Alas! the last of her defenders soon fell a victim to the fury of the lion.

The rest of the night passed slowly away to the lonely woman. When the morning dawned-he had watched the bride all night— he retired reluctantly to his lair. A few moments after, a group of cavaliers appeared on the plain. The widow of Smail, without any voice to call, waved her bridal vail as a signal of distress. The party came to her on a gallop, and carried her to her father's tent, where she died the next night, at the hour of the wedding.

DRESS IN THE OLDEN TIME.

IN the days of Washington, says a writer in Putnam's Magazine,

clothing was very expensive; and though made a matter of more consequence than now, as marking the distinctions of rank, sedulously maintained, it was often difficult for persons of much pretension to keep up the outward appearance of gentility. For this reason all apparel was preserved with much care. I have seen specimens of mending, piecing, and darning, in garments belonging to old families, which would have commanded a premium from some of our modern industrial societies. The raiment purchased for a young woman's bridal was worn by her in old age; and young girls of the household were glad to assume the faded relics of a grandmother's wardrobe.