CITADEL SQUARE CHURCH,

CHARLESTON, S. C.

The accompanying engraving represents one of the finest churches in the city of Charleston, S. C. It is of the Norman style of architecture, and its lofty spire rises to the height of 200 feet. The building has recently been erected by the Baptist society. The citadel, which faces on the noble park known as the Citadel Square, presents a massive and picturesque appearance. Charleston is finely situated. The harbor of the city is two miles across, and the town occupies

the peninsula formed by the junction of the Cooper and Ashley Rivers. It is built upon slightly elevated ground, being but nine feet above high water mark, and covers an area two miles in length and over a mile in width. The streets are wide, and laid out with great regular. ity; and, with their numerous fine buildings, present many combinations of the picturesque to the eye of the artist.

The human heart beats about seventy-two times in a minute; or in a life of sixty years, two thousand millions of times.

THE SPIT LIGHT AND FORT WARREN, BOSTON HARBOR.

SPIT LIGHT, BOSTON HARBOR. The "Spit" Light, delineated in the accompanying engraving, is a remarkable feature in Boston Harbor. The "Spit" is a long neck of beach of a winding formation, entirely covered with water at high tide, on the extremity of which the lighthouse is situated. It will be seen that the "Spit" serves as a break-water, so that while on one side the waves are quite angry and something of a sea is going, on the other the water is quite tranquil. On the right of our picture are seen the frowning bastions of Fort Warren, and on the left Pettick's Island, and again, a little to the left of this is the entrance to Huli and Hingham harbors.

PANDA, THE KAFFIR KING. The spirited engraving given on next page represents King Panda, a noted Kaffir chief, of the tribe of Zooloos, and Mr. Maynard, an American traveller, who paid him a visit in 1841. The menacing attitude of the savage sovereign, and the alert coolness of his guest, are well depicted. But the danger to the traveller is less imminent than might be imagined. The king is only endeavoring to strike terror into his visitor, and

neither he nor his wild armed followers will commit any hostile act. On the occasion which furnished the subject of the picture, the king suddenly appeared in his war-dress. In his left hand he held four assagays (darts) artistically fashioned, under a white shield striped with

black; in his right hand, which was ornamented with a bracelet made of a monkey's tail, he brandished a steel assagay; on his head was an otter cap, with silk plush ear-pieces that fell upon his shoulders, the whole surmounted by a nodding crest of blue and red plumes. Tufts of red and green wood, mingled with ox tails and monkey's tails, decorated his breast and girdle. A twisted tail encircled his left leg, and his anklets were also formed of the caudal appendage of some animal. Thus attired, in the height of Kaffir military dandyism, the chief advanced in a menacing attitude, his hideous face expressing determination and ferocity, brandishing his formidable assagay, and taking aim at the heart of his visitor. Perhaps, had the latter testified the slightest perturbation, the weapon would have been buried in his breast, but with true AngloSaxon hardihood he looked the Kaffir full in the eye and sat perfectly still, without moving a muscle of his countenance; so that at last the king ceased his hostile demonstrations, and falling back into the ranks of his followers, put them through a series of evolutions which displayed their agility and dexterity.

A COUNTRY PARSON'S LIFE. You walk in shady lanes; you stand and look at the rugged bark of old trees; you help to prune evergreens; you devise flower-gardens and winding walks. You talk to pigs, and smooth down the legs of horses. You sit on mossy walls, and saunter by the river side, and through woodland paths. You grow familiar with the internal arrangements of poor men's dwellings; you see much of men and women in those solemn seasons when all pretences are laid aside; and they speak with confidence to you of their little

cares and fears, for this world and the other. You kneel down and pray by the bedside of many sick; and you know the look of the dying face well. Young children whom you have humbly sought to instruct in the best of knowledge, have passed away from this life in your presence, telling you in interrupted sentences whither they trusted they were going, and bidding you not forget to meet them there. You mark the spring blossoms come back; and you walk among the harvest sheaves in the autumn evening. And when you ride up the parish on your duty, you feel the influence of bare and lonely tracts, where, ten miles from home, you sometimes dismount from your horse, and sit down on a gray stone by the wayside, and look for an hour at the heather at your feet, and at the sweeps of purple moorland tar away; you go down to the churchyard frequently; you sit on the gravestone of your predecessor who died two hundred years since; and you count five, six, seven spots where those who served the cure before you sleep.-Elvyn.

PHENOMENA OF GLASS.

glass, the Hydraulic Press says:-That glass reIn a very interesting and scientific article on sists the action of most acids, science has proved; its weight is not diminished by use or age. It is more capable than other substances of receiving the highest degree of polish which almost rivals phial, with the bottom much thicker than the the diamond in brilliancy. If it be made into a sides, and suddenly cooled in the open air, instead of being tempered in the usual manner, the result on its susceptibility to fracture is the most extraordinary. It will bear a heavy blow, or sejured: but if any hard and angular substance, vere pressure, from any blunt instrument, unineven so small as a grain of flint, or sharp sand, be dropped into the phial, the bottom will crack all around, and fall off. A small fragment of iron has been passed through the thick bottom with apparently as little resistance as if dropped through the web of a spider. Instances have occurred in which one of these phials has been struck by a mallet, with a force sufficient to drive a nail into some descriptions of wood, without causing fracture, while a small fragment of flint, dropped gently into the phial has cracked the glass to pieces. A piece of white-hot metal being dropped gently into cold water, and taking the form of a round lump elongated to a tail, is terminated a cracker. The round part will bear a heavy blow without fracture; but if the least part of the tail be broken off, the whole flies into innumerable fragments as fine as powder. If this glass be placed in a wine bottle filled with water, and a small portion of the tail broken off, by the aid of a long pair of nippers, the concussion by the explosion (for it is almost similar to an explosion) is so violent as to break the bottle and scatter the water in every direction. All these curious results are owing to a peculiar inequality of the glass, which arises from the sudden cooling to which it is subjected.

RESIGNATION.

Resignation gently slopes the way; And, all his prospects brightening to the last, His heaven commences ere the world be past. GOLDSMITH.

[ORIGINAL.]

THE COTTAGE HOME.

BY MRS. S. E. DAWES.

Dear cottage home, my heart hath thrilled
As thy cherished scenes my eye have filled;
Standing there 'neath the tall trees' shade,
Where, in days gone by, I oft have played,
Methinks the spot will ever be
The hallowed haunt of memory.

How oft in the old east room I've sat,
And passed the hours in social chat;

Or watched from the window the ripples play
On glassy Burncoat o'er the way:
The landscape dear, each vale and hill,
With joy will be remembered still.

And there's the barn, where oft I'd stray,
To sport among the fragrant hay;
Or down the lane and o'er the stile
Have roamed the grand old woods awhile;
Those blissful days, too bright to last,
Are numbered now with the sunny past.
The dear old home and I must part:
I speak the words with saddened heart.
Never to cross the threshold more,
As oft I've done in days of yore;
For there the forms I loved are not,
And others own the sacred spot.

"Tis thus, as fleeting years go by,
We yield at length each earthly tie;
No more beneath thy roof to dwell,
Dear cottage home, a sad farewell!
Dwellers at last in a heavenly home,
May all who loved thee ever roam!

[ORIGINAL.]

MRS. ERMINGTON'S HOUSEKEEPING.

BY CLARA AUGUSTA.

I was married at the age of seventeen, a period of life at which few women are fitted to assume the responsibilities of wifehood. My heart aches when I see a young girl going to the altar in the very first flush of her youth, before her character is formed, or her judgment matured by contact with the stern realities of existence. I think how much of sweet, fresh freedom will be crushed out of her life by the pressure of domestic cares for which she is unfitted; of the heavy burdens her tender shoulders will have to bear; of the bitter disappointment of her husband over his disorderly household; of the weary nights when her pillow will be wet with tears, when, after trying to do her best she has failed to do well; and I say to myself, God be very merciful to the child in this, her time of trial!

American mothers are greatly to be censured

for the manner in which they train their daughters. Doubtless they mean to do right, but the wretched lives of their offspring evince anything but the evidence of their success. There is a tendency--a growing tendency-to shun labor, the means which God himself ordained by which man was to eat his bread-a disposition on the part of the majority of parents to have the little girls grow up white-handed, fair-faced, waspwaisted, fine ladies; ignorant of the fact that the sun was formed for any other purpose than the tanning of delicate skins; and practically believing that the pure, sweet air of heaven is a nuisance completely ruinous to a pretty complexion!

All this is radically wrong. There is a reform needed-a reform to commence at our own firesides, and extend throughout the whole length and breadth of the land. And if we attend to this object as Christian duty requires us to do, we shall have little chance of seeing after the affairs of our neighbors, because our time will be fully occupied with our own concerns.

But to return. My mother died when I was three years old, and I was brought up by a hired nurse, assisted by a hired housekeeper. Both were excellent women in their way, but nothing on earth can atone to a child for the care of a judicious mother! My father, unfortunately, was wealthy, not that I would by any means disparage wealth; but in this case, it was productive of a defect in my education that caused me great unhappiness and perplexity. I was reared to know nothing whatever of work, and to look upon those who used their hands as the Creator designed they should, as a little lower in the scale of being than myself.

Many a child ten years old, the daughter of some honest, hard-handed farmer, could have taught me my alphabet in housekeeping, at the time I gave my hand, and with it my earnest love, to John Ermington. I now know that dearly as I loved my husband, I wronged him deeply by marrying him, for no woman is qualified to become a wife, no matter how elevated the station she is expected to occupy, until she can, if necessary, attend to the duties of her household with her own hands.

"O, well," people said, "to be sure, Hattie Melville is inexperienced, but then Mr. Ermington has a handsome income, and she will not be obliged to soil the tips of her fingers!''

And I believed so, too, my father believed it, John believed it, and we were all supremely happy in our ignorance. We had yet to learn that, after all which may be said to the contrary, a bad mistress will never have a good servant.