3. I catch the murmur of its undertone,
That sigheth, ceaselessly, "Alone! alone!"
And hear, afar, the rivers gloriously
Shout on their paths toward the shining sea,

sun,

4. The voiceful rivers, chanting to the
And wearing names of honor, every one;
Outreaching wide, and joining hand with hand
To pour great gifts along the asking land.

5. Ah, lonely brook! Creep onward through the pines; Press through the gloom to where the daylight shines! Sing on among the stones, and secretly

Feel how the floods are all akin to thee!

6. Drink the sweet rain the gentle heaven sendeth;
Hold thine own path, howeverward it tendeth;
For somewhere, underneath the eternal sky,
Thou, too, shalt find the rivers, by and by!

MRS. A. D. T. WHITNEY.

LXXIII.

ANIMALS OF THE PYRENEES.

THE

HE bear of the Pyrenees is a serious beast, a thorough mountaineer, curious to behold in his great-coat of

felted hair, yellowish or grayish in color.

It seems Its heavy

The moun

formed for its domicile, and its domicile for it. fur is an excellent mantle against the snow. taineers think it so good that they borrow it from him as often as they can, and he thinks it so good that he defends it against them, to the best of his ability.

2. He likes to live alone, and the gorges of the heights are as solitary as he wishes. The hollow trees afford him a ready-made house; as these are, for the most part, beeches and oaks, he finds in them, at once, food and shel

ter.

For the rest, brave, prudent, and robust, he is an estimable animal; his only faults are, that he eats his little ones, when he runs across them, and that he is a poor dancer.

3. In hunting him, men go into ambush, and fire on him as he passes. Lately, in a battue, a superb female was tracked. When the foremost hunters, who were novices, saw the glitter of the fierce little eyes, and perceived the black mass, descending with great strides, beating the underbrush, they suddenly forgot that they had guns, and kept whist behind their oak.

4. A hundred paces farther on, a brave fellow fired. The bear, which was not hit, came up on a gallop. The man, dropping his gun, slipped into a pit. Reaching the bottom, he felt of his limbs and found himself whole; then, looking up, he saw the animal hesitating above his head, busy in examining the slope, and pressing her foot upon the stones to see if they were firm.

5. She sniffed here and there, and looked at the man

with the evident intention of paying him a visit. The pit was a well; if she reached the bottom, he must resign himself to a tête-à-tête. While the man reflected on this, and thought of the animal's teeth, the bear began to descend slowly, with infinite precaution and address, hanging on to the roots, and managing her precious person with great care. She was drawing near, when the hunters came up and shot her dead.

6. The izard dwells above the bear, upon the naked tops in the region of the glaciers. He needs space for his leaps and gambols. He is too lively and gay to shut himself, like the heavy misanthrope, in the gorges and forests. No animal is more agile; he leaps from rock to rock, clears precipices, and keeps his place upon points where there is just room for his four feet.

7. You sometimes hear a hollow bleating on the heights,

- it is a band of izards cropping the herbage amidst the snow; their tawny dress and their little horns stand out in the blue of the heavens; one of them gives the alarm, and all disappear in a moment.

8. You often hear, for a half-hour, a tinkling of bells behind the mountain; these are the herds of goats changing their pasture. Sometimes, there are more than a thousand of them. You find yourself stopped in crossing the bridges, until the whole caravan has filed over.

9. They have long, hanging hair which forms their coat; with their black mantle and great beard, you would say that they were dressed for a masquerade. Their yellow eyes stare vaguely, with an expression of curiosity and gentleness. They seem to wonder at their walking in such orderly fashion on level ground.

10. Only to look at that dry leg and horny foot, you feel that they are framed to wander at random, and leap about on the rocks. From time to time, the less disciplined ones stop, set their fore-feet against the mountain,

and crop a bramble or a blossom of lavender. The others come, and push them on; they start off again with a mouthful of herbage, and eat as they walk. You see the forests of horns waving above the black mass, and their smooth hair shining in the sun.

11. Enormous dogs, with woolly coats, spotted with white, walk gravely along the sides, growling when you draw near. The herdsman comes behind, in his brown cloak, with an eye fixed, glittering, void of thought, like that of the animals; and the whole band disappears in a cloud of dust, out of which comes a sound of shrill bleating.

12. Why should I not speak of the happiest animal in creation? A great painter has taken a liking for it; he has drawn it in all its attitudes, and has shown all its pleasures and all its tastes. The rights of prose are, indeed, equal to those of painting, and I promise that travelers will take pleasure in considering the hogs.

.

13. There, the word is out. Now, mind that in the Pyrenees they are not covered with tainting filth, as on our farms; they are rosy or black, well-washed, and live upon the dry gravel, along-side the running waters. They make holes in the heated sand, and sleep there in groups of five or six, close set in lines, in admirable order.

14. When any one draws near, the whole mass moves ; the corkscrew tails frisk fantastically; two crafty, philosophic eyes open beneath the pendent ears; the mocking noses stretch forth and sniff; they all grunt in concert; after which, becoming accustomed to the intrusion, they are quieted, they lie down again, the eyes close in sanctimonious fashion, the tails retire into place, and the blessed rogues retire to their digestion, and enjoyment of the

sun.

15. All these expressive snouts seem to cry shame

upon prejudices, and invoke enjoyment; there is something reckless and derisive about them; the whole countenance is directed toward the snout, and the end of the entire head is in the mouth. Their lengthened nose seems to sniff and take in from the air all agreeable sensations. They spread themselves so complacently on the ground, they wag their ears with such voluptuous little movements, they utter such penetrating ejaculations of pleasure, that you get out of patience with them.

16. O genuine epicureans, if sometimes in your sleep, you deign to reflect, you ought to think that the world was made for you, that man is your servant, and that you are the privileged creatures of nature.

H. A. Taine.

LXXIV. - CHOICE BOOKS, GOOD COMPANY.

GRANTING that we had both the will and the sense

to choose our friends well, how few of us have the power! or, at least, how limited, for most, is the sphere of choice! Nearly all our associates are determined by chance or necessity, and restricted within a narrow circle. We cannot know whom we would; and those whom we know, we cannot have at our side when we most need them.

2. All the higher circles of human intelligence are, to those beneath, only momentarily and partially open. We may, by good fortune, obtain a glimpse of a great poet, and hear the sound of his voice; or put a question to a man of science, and be answered good-humoredly. We may intrude ten minutes' talk on a cabinet minister, answered probably with words worse than silence, being deceptive; or snatch, once or twice in our lives, the priv