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The Fox and the Tortoise;

A FABLE, TO SHOW THE ADVANTAGES OF HONESTY.

A Fox that had been robbing some hen-roosts, and had therefore excited the indignation of the people, was one day pursued by a party of hunters, and sorely pressed by their hounds. At last he came to a secluded spot, and having for the time eluded his enemies, he sat down to take breath. Near by there chanced to be a tortoise, and as birds and beasts always talk in fables, it was a matter of course that the two animals on the present occasion should fall into conversation.

"You seem," said the tortoise, "to be very much out of breath: pray let me ask you what is the matter?"

"Matter enough!" replied the fox. "I occasionally slip into the farmers' henroosts, and take away a few of their fowls, or now and then I carry off a fat goose or a stray lamb; and behold, I am hunted by all people with all their hounds, as if I was the greatest rascal on the face of the earth! Whew! how hot I am. These villanous hounds put me in a terrible tremor. One of them came so close as to snap at my throat with his long ugly teeth, and I really

thought my last hour was come. What a terrible life it is I lead: I cannot stir abroad but some hound is on my track, or some bullet whistles near my heart. Even in my den of rocks I have no peace, for I am ever dreaming of the sound of muskets or the baying of hounds."

As the fox said this, the cry of the hunters and their hounds came near, and to save his life, he was again obliged to take to flight. The humble tortoise, observing all this, remarked very wisely, as follows: "How much better it is to be honest and content with what we can call our own, than to be forever running after forbidden pleasures, thus drawing down upon ourselves the enmity of mankind, and all the disquietude of a guilty conscience."

THE INSINCERITY OF FLATTERY."What little, ugly-looking, red-headed monster is that, playing among those children?" "That, madam, is my eldest son !" "Indeed! you don't say so; what a beautiful little cherub it is!"

The Travels, Adventures, and Ex periences of Thomas Trotter.

CHAPTER I.

My Birth and Parentage.-The reasons why I became a Traveller.-My first Travels.-Advantage of having good legs. My first Voyage to the Mediterranean.-The Orange and Lemon Trade.-The Gulf Stream.-Whales.-Portuguese Man-of-War

EVER Since my earliest remembrance I have had a great passion for travelling, seeing foreign countries, and studying foreign manners. I believe this disposition runs in our family, for all the Trotters, I am assured, have been great travellers. My great grandfather, Absalom Trotter, was famous for having the longest legs in the state of Massachusetts, and for making the best use of them. He could beat a horse at a stretch of a month or so; but he died just as the Providence railroad was completed. My great aunt, Peggy Trotter, was also celebrated among her neighbors for an unconquerable propensity to move about. There was not a story circulating in the town, but she was the first to find it out,

the

and the most industrious in communicating it to all her acquaintance. If she had lived till this day, I verily believe newspaper editors would have hired her to carry expresses; for when she once got hold of a piece of intelligence, it is inconceivable how rapidly she made it fly through all quarters of the town. When she died, people were afraid that news would be scarce forever afterwards; but steamboats came into fashion about that time, so that we have not been without a supply of intelligence from various parts.

I was born in Fleet street, down at the north end, in Boston. My father was a West-India captain, who used to sail in a little schooner from Boston to Guadaloupe. He commonly carried out a load timber, and shingles; and brought back a of lumber, that is, pine boards, plank,

cargo of molasses. Every time he returned from a voyage, he brought us oranges, lemons, and pine-apples, fruits which do not grow hereabouts. These rarities always excited my admiration; and I was delighted to sit in the chimney-corner during the long winter evenings, and listen to his description of the West-India islands, where the summer and the fruits and the green fields last the whole year round; and where no snow or ice chills the air, but fresh verdure and bright flowers enliven the landscape from the beginning of the year to the end of it.

The more of these stories I heard, the more I wanted to hear, for it is notorious that there is no passion so insatiable as curiosity. And when our curiosity is directed towards a useful object, the indulgence of it becomes both proper and beneficial. The world is filled with variety, and this variety is evidently designed by Providence to stimulate our curiosity, so that we may be incited to action and the pursuit of knowledge. In this way I became seized with an

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irresistible inclination to travel and see the world. My neighbor Timothy Doolittle, who had nobody to tell him stories when he was a boy, on the contrary, never cared to move about, or know how the rest of the world lived, or what was doing out of his own chimney-corI believe he never in his life walked further than Roxbury Neck; and if anybody should ask him how big the world was, he would say it extended from Bunker Hill to Brookline! Such magnificent notions of the universe will a man have who never stirs abroad.

ner.

I could give a long account of my early travels-how they began in very infancy when I first ventured out the front door-how I next rambled down the street, and was amazed to see how large the town was-how I then grew more courageous, and journeyed as far as Faneuil Hall Market; what surprising discoveries I made there; what perilous adventures I met with on the way thither and back-how I next made a still bolder excursion as far as Fort Hill, got overtaken by night, and was brought back by the town crier-how, finally, after a great many hair-breadth escapes and daring exploits, I became so experienced in travelling that I ventured into the country to see what sort of people lived there; and how in a single day I penetrated as far as the Blue Hills, and found the inhabitants of Milton and Dorchester an exceedingly civil, pleasant and good sort of people. I might give the particulars of all these peregrinations at full length, if I had room in these pages. But as it is very probable that most of my readers have travelled the same route and seen pretty much the same things, I have concluded to omit them for the present, and pass on to the narrative of my travels and adventures in foreign countries, which will probably offer more novelty and instruction.

My father died when I was ten years old; and as my mother had been dead several years before, I was left to the care of my aunt Katy Walker. I had little chance of gratifying my roving inclination under her care, for she could not afford me any money, and travelling is expensive. The most I could do was to take long walks now and then, with a staff in my hand, and a pack over my back. In this way I have travelled over nearly all the state of Massachusetts; and can assure my readers, that they will learn more by travelling on foot in a single day than they will in a week by being whirled along in a railroad car. The main thing is to have good vigorous limbs; and a man's legs will always grow strong if he walks enough. After trudging up and down for some years, a second cousin of mine, Captain Scudder, who used to visit at our house, came one day to tell me that he was about to make a voyage to the Mediterranean, to bring home a cargo of oranges and lemons for the Boston market. He offered to take me with him, and I gladly accepted the proposal. To visit Europe was the great object of my wishes; and the Mediterranean countries had the greatest of all possible attractions for me. I was never tired of thinking of the interesting territories which were situated upon that famous sea-their romantic shores-their beautiful islands-their bright sky-their charming climatetheir magnificent cities-their picturesque inhabitants, and the multitude of glorious and ever-memorable historical events connected with them. All these thoughts threw me into a rapture, and my impatience to set out upon the voyage was such, that I deemed every moment lost, till I was on board, and the vessel was fairly under weigh.

We sailed in the brig Swift, bound to Malta. We carried a cargo of logwood, coffee, sugar, beeswax raw hides, to

bacco, cotton, and staves. These articles generally compose the cargo of vessels bound to the Italian ports. The logwood, coffee, sugar, tobacco, and cotton, are productions not raised in those countries. Hides and staves are much cheaper, and more abundant, in our country than in theirs. They have no great pastures and tracts of wild country filled with droves of cattle, as you will find in many parts of America. Forests of large trees are so scarce with them, that wood of every kind bears a high price. Beeswax is an article which they use to a great extent, as their custom is to burn enormously long wax candles in their churches and religious processions. It was about the middle of December when we set sail. This is considered the best season for a voyage such as we were bound upon. The oranges are ripe in January and February, so that when the vessel arrives out, the fruit is all freshly gathered and ready for shipping. A great deal of care is necessary in the importation of this sort of fruit; for if the weather be too warm, or the oranges have been too long taken from the trees, they will be spoiled on the passage. It very often happens that a vessel arrives at Boston from Sicily in the summer with a load of oranges and lemons, and having had a long passage, the whole cargo is found to be spoiled, and must be thrown away. This most commonly happens in the Italian vessels, which do not sail so fast as the Americans', and have not crews so expert in navigation.

Well, I was now fairly on board. We hoisted sail; the wind blew fresh from the northwest; we scudded by the castle, we were soon outside of Boston lighthouse. The pilot jumped into his boat and bade us good-by. I looked after him as his little wherry kept bobbing up and down between the waves, till he was too far off to be seen any

longer. The steeples of Boston and the neighboring hills gradually sunk in the horizon; night came on, and I could see no more of my native land. We carried all sail through the night, in order to get well off the coast while the wind was fair, as the weather is very variable near the land, and it is highly dangerous to be near the coast in winter. By-and-by we had furious squalls of wind, which tore our sails, and put us in great danger. In a day or two more we crossed the Gulf Stream, which is a long and wide current of water running through the Atlantic, from the Gulf of Mexico nearly across the ocean. I was astonished to find the water in this current bloodwarm, although it was the middle of winter; but Captain Scudder informed me that this is always the case, as the water comes from a warm climate. Dreadful thunder-storms also happen here, and a great many ships have been struck and burnt up by lightning in the Gulf Stream.

We were all very glad when we had crossed this remarkable current, for we had nothing but squalls of wind and showers of rain while we were in it. At length we got fairly out into blue water, the sky grew clear, we had a bright sun and a fair wind, and although the sea continued to roll and dash pretty turbulently, yet it was a pleasure to stand on the deck and look at the glorious broad ocean, with its blue waves, crested with white foam, sparkling in the sun. Two or three ships had kept us company off the coast, and for some days we could discern their white sails on the verge of the horizon; but they presently sunk out of sight, and we found ourselves with nothing but sea around and sky above us.

One day, as I was walking on the deck and looking out for a sail, I was surprised to see a stream of water rise up out of the sea at some distance. I

pointed it out to the man who was steering at the helm, and was told by him that it was a whale, spouting. I had never seen a whale before, and was anxious to get a nearer view of so wonderful a creature. My wish was soon gratified. Presently he directed his course towards our vessel, and passed by us, spouting up streams of water from his nose in a manner that excited my astonishment. When I contemplated the monstrous bulk of this creature, and the amazing swiftness with which he dashed through the water, I could not repress a feeling of terror. Yet it is well known that men are courageous enough to go out to sea in little boats for the purpose of catching such enormous monsters. The description of the whale fishery is one of the most interesting items in the history of human courage and skill, and shows how the ingenuity of man can triumph over the strength of the mightiest of all the brute creation. The whale is attacked, pursued for miles across his own element, and finally killed and taken by six or eight men in a boat, so small that, if he had but the sense to open his mouth, he might swallow the boat and its crew.

I had another amusement at sea in witnessing the gambols of the shoals of porpoises which now and then came tumbling around us. These fish generally move in single file through the water, and when they meet a ship at sea, they shoot right before her bows, so as almost to strike the vessel; but as they dart with great velocity, they always manage to steer clear. At such times it is highly interesting to watch their movements, as they glance through the water just below the surface. When the sun shines, they glisten in the waves with all the hues of the rainbow, and one would almost imagine they were proud of showing their gaudy colors, for they dart along the ship's side,

as if on purpose to be seen. This diversion is often fatal to them, for the sailors contrive to catch them with harpoons. They are very fat, and yield a large quantity of oil. Their flesh is black, and tastes a good deal like pork; it is much relished by crews that have been long deprived of fresh provisions.

In the course of our voyage, as I was looking over the vessel's side one bright, sunshiny day, I saw something sailing along on the top of the waves that looked exactly like one of the chip boats which the boys sail in the Frog Pond. The sailors told me it was a fish called the Portuguese man-of-war. I looked upon it with admiration. It was a most curious sort of shell-fish, with a thin white membrane or wing spread in the air for a sail. By the help of this it steered before the wind just like a ship, and kept company with us for two or three miles. When I was looking at it with a spy-glass, it suddenly struck its sail, dove under water, and was out of sight in an instant.

(To be continued.)

Story of Philip Brusque.

(Continued from page 21.)

CHAPTER II.

Brusque discovers that man wants something beside Liberty; he wants Company-Society.

SUCH were the thoughts of Brusque, as he stood on a little hill in the centre of the island, and looked round upon what now seemed entirely his own. Nor did anything happen to disturb his peace for a long time. There was fruit enough for his support upon the trees, and he found a cave in a rock, which served him for a house and a home. The weather was almost constantly fine, and

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