more importance, a fine litter of new-farrowed pigs, no less than nine in number, perished. China pigs have been esteemed a luxury all over the East, from the remotest periods that we read of. Bo-bo was in the utmost consternation, as you may think, - not so much for the sake of the tenement, which his father and he could easily build up again with a few dry branches, and the labour of an hour or two, at any time, as for the loss of the pigs. While he was thinking what he should say to his father, and wringing his hands over the smoking remnants of one of those untimely sufferers, an odour assailed his nostrils, unlike any scent which he had before experienced. What could it proceed from ?— not from the burnt cottage-he had smelt that smell before; indeed, this was by no means the first accident of the kind which had occurred through the negligence of this unlucky young fire-brand. Much less did it resemble that of any known herb, weed, or flower. A premonitory moistening at the same time overflowed his nether lip. He knew not what to think. He next stooped down to feel the pig, if there were any signs of life in it. He burnt his fingers, and to cool them he applied them in his booby fashion to his mouth. Some of the crumbs of the scorched skin had come away with his fingers, and for the first time in his life (in the world's life, indeed, for before him no man had known it) he tasted. crackling! Again he felt and fumbled at the pig. It did not burn him so much now; still he licked his fingers from a sort of habit. The truth at length broke into his slow understanding that it was the pig that smelt so, and the pig that tasted so delicious; and surrendering himself up to the new-born pleasure, he fell to tearing up whole handfuls of the scorched skin with the flesh next it, and was cramming it down his throat in his beastly fashion, when his sire entered amid the smoking rafters, armed with retributory cudgel, and finding how affairs stood, began to rain blows upon the young rogue's shoulders, as thick as hail-stones, which Bo-bo heeded not any more than if they had been flies. The tickling pleasure, which he experienced in his lower regions, had rendered him quite callous to any inconveniences he might feel to those remote quarters.

"You graceless whelp, what have you got there devouring? Is it not enough that you have burnt me down three houses with your dog's tricks, but you must be eating fire, and I know not what! What have you got there, I say?"

"O father, the pig, the pig! do come and taste how nice the burnt pig eats."

The ears of Ho-ti tingled with horror. He cursed his son, and he cursed himself that ever he should beget a son that should eat burnt pig.

Bo-bo, whose scent was wonderfully sharpened since morning, soon raked out another pig, and fairly rending it asunder, thrust the lesser half by main force into the fists of Ho-ti, still shouting out, “Eat, eat, eat the burnt pig, father, only taste- - O Lord!"-with such-like barbarous ejaculations, cramming all the while as if he would choke.

Ho-ti trembled in every joint while he grasped the abominable thing, wavering whether he should not put his son to death for an unnatural young monster, when the crackling scorching his fingers, as it had done his son's, and applying the same remedy to them, he in his turn tasted some of its flavour, which, make what sour mouths he would for pretence, proved not altogether displeasing to him. In conclusion, both father and son fairly sat down to the mess, and never left off till they had despatched all that remained of the litter.

Bo-bo was strictly enjoined not to let the secret escape, for the neighbours would certainly have stoned them for a couple of abominable wretches, who could think of improving upon the good meat which God had sent them. Nevertheless, strange stories got about. It was observed that Ho-ti's cottage was burnt down now more frequently than ever. Nothing but fires from this time forward. Some would break out in broad day, others in the night-time. As often as the sow farrowed, so sure was the house of Ho-ti to be in a blaze; and Ho-ti himself, which was the more remarkable, instead of chastising his son, seemed to grow more indulgent to him than ever. At length they were watched, the terrible mystery discovered, and father and son summoned to take their trial at Pekin, then an inconsiderable assize town. Evidence was given, the obnoxious food itself produced in court, and verdict about to be pronounced, when the foreman of the jury begged that some of the burnt pig, of which the culprits stood accused, might be handed into the box. He handled it, and they all handled it; and burning their fingers, as Bo-bo and his father had done before them, and Nature prompting to each of them the same remedy, against the face of all the facts, and the clearest charge which judge had ever given, to the surprise of the whole court, townsfolk, strangers, reporters, and all present, without leaving the box, or any manner of consultation whatever, they brought in a verdict of Not Guilty.

The judge, who was a shrewd fellow, winked at the manifest iniquity of the decision; and when the court was dismissed, went privily, and bought up all the pigs that could be had for love or money. In a few days his Lordship's town house was observed to be on fire. The thing took wing, and now there was nothing to be seen but fire in every direction. Fuel and pigs grew enormously dear all over the district.

The insurance offices one and all shut up shop. People built slighter and slighter every day, until it was feared that the very science of architecture would in no long time be lost to the world. Thus this custom of firing houses continued, till, in process of time, a sage arose, like our Locke, who made a discovery, that the flesh of swine, or indeed of any other animal, might be cooked without the necessity of consuming a whole house to dress it. Then first began the rude form of a gridiron. Roasting by the string or spit came in a century or two later, I forget in whose dynasty. By such slow degrees, do the most useful and seemingly the most obvious arts, make their way among mankind.

GEMINI AND VIRGO.

SOME vast amount of years ago, ere all my youth had vanish'd from me,
A boy it was my lot to know, whom his familiar friends called Tommy.
I love to gaze upon a child; a young bud bursting into blossom;
Artless as Eve, yet unbeguiled, and agile as a young opossum ;

And such was he. A calm brow'd lad, yet mad, at moments, as a hatter;
Why hatters as a race are mad I never knew, nor does it matter.
He was what nurses call a "limb;" one of those small misguided creatures,
Who, tho' their intellects are dim, are one too many for their teachers;
And, if you asked of him to say what twice ten was, or three times seven,
He'd glance (in quite a placid way) from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And smile, and look politely round, to catch a casual suggestion;
But make no effort to propound any solution of the question.

And so not much esteemed was he of the authorities; and therefore
He fraternized by chance with me, needing a somebody to care for.
And three fair summers did we twain live (as they say) and love together;
And bore by turns the wholesome cane till our young skins became as leather;
And carved our names on every desk, and tore our clothes, and inked our collars;
And looked unique and picturesque, but not, it may be, model scholars.
We did much as we chose to do; we'd never heard of Mrs. Grundy;
All the theology we knew was that we might n't play on Sunday;
And all the general truths, that cakes were to be bought at four a penny,
And that excruciating aches resulted if we ate too many;
And seeing ignorance is bliss, and wisdom consequently folly,
The obvious result is this that our two lives were very jolly.
At last the separation came.
And by a horrid chance, the same young thing was, to us both, a passion.
Old Poser snorted like a horse; his feet were large, his hands were pimply,
His manner, when excited, coarse: - but Miss P. was an angel simply.
She was a blushing, gushing thing; all more than all my fancy painted;
Once, when she helped me to a wing of goose, I thought I should have fainted.
The people said that she was blue; but I was green, and loved her dearly.
She was approaching thirty-two; and I was then eleven, nearly.

Real love at that time was the fashion;

I did not love as others do (none ever did that I've heard tell of);
My passion was a byword through the town she was, of course, the belle of;
Oh sweet as to the toil-worn man the far-off sound of rippling river;

As to cadets in Hindostan the fleeting remnant of their liver

To me was Anna; dear as gold that fills the miser's sunless coffers

As to the spinster, growing old, the thought, the dream, that she had offers.
I'd sent her little gifts of fruit; I'd written lines to her as Venus;
I'd sworn unflinchingly to shoot the man who dared to come between us;
And it was you, my Thomas, you, the friend in whom my soul confided,
Who dared to gaze on her to do, I may say, much the same as I did.
One night I saw him squeeze her hand; there was no doubt about the matter ;
I said he must resign, or stand my vengeance and he chose the latter.
We met, we "planted " blows on blows; we fought as long as we were able;
My rival had a bottle-nose, and both my speaking eyes were sable.
When the school-bell cut short our strife Miss P. gave both of us a plaster;
And in a week became the wife of Horace Nibbs, the writing-master. . .
I loved her then — I'd love her still, only one must not love Another's;
But thou and I, my Tommy, will, when we again meet, meet as brothers.
It may be that in age one seeks peace only; that the blood is brisker
In boys' veins than in theirs whose cheeks are partially obscured by whisker;
Or that the growing ages steal the memories of past wrongs from us.
But this is certain - that I feel most friendly unto thee, O Thomas!
And wheresoe'er we meet again, on this or that side the equator,

If I've not turned teetotaller then, and have wherewith to pay the waiter, To thee I'll drain the modest cup, ignite with thee the mild Havannah; And we will waft, while liquoring up, forgiveness to the heartless Anna.

XLIX. ASSIMILATION AND LANGUAGES.

C. S. Calverley.

THERE are three stages in the mastery of a foreign language: we may be able to read it; when more familiar we may be able by conscious translation to speak it; but we have truly mastered a language only when we are able to think in its forms.

The great advantage in studying a language not our own, according to John Stuart Mill, is that "it prevents us from mistaking words for things." Plato and Aristotle, he said, made this mistake in their philosophy, -an error due to the fact that they had mastered no language aside from their own.

There is an important principle here that applies not only to the study of language, but to that of art. The painter who merely paints is apt to cease to be an artist. He fails to realize the

importance of feeling; his art becomes a mere reproduction of natural objects. The musician who merely plays never rises higher than a mechanical performer in an orchestra. A man becomes an artist only by being able to express himself in more than one

way.

The principle, however, applies with great force to the relation of thought to words. Very frequently, however, languages are so mechanically and artificially studied that the benefit spoken of by Mill is not realized. Students often develop a mere verbal memory. They merely study the language by grammatical rules. They aim only to understand the meaning embodied, and fail to enter into its spirit. Repeated attempts have been made to reform such mechanical methods in the study of languages, and to find a way to induce students to think in another tongue.

One of the most important aids to this end is the reciting of the best passages in the literature of the language we are studying. Vocal expression or recitation compels the student really to think in the language he speaks. He cannot stop with a mere understanding of the words. With any true conception of expression, he meditates over the passage which he is to recite, and endeavors to create imaginatively its successive conceptions and situations, and to assimilate its spirit. At any rate, he is compelled to master more completely the words, and is brought into a more immediate relationship to the processes of thought beneath them. He is compelled to use them as agents in the expression of thought and feeling. Every language has a melody of its own, and voca expression will be of great advantage in conquering the difficulty of "accent." The student will find that this accent does not consist in the pronunciation of individual sounds or words; but that it is the manifestation of peculiar processes of thought and point of view, the genius which lies behind the words.

It has been well said that all great poetry implies utterance. It is the lack of true vocal expression, without doubt, that causes the roughness of modern poetry, and makes the difference between modern and ancient verse. The great poets have always bewailed the separation. Most of the great poets have hummed over and recited their own poetry. Tennyson's recitation of his own poems