great fear, and hearing the noise come thundering about him, he dragged and pulled so hard, that he got out his head, but left behind him his ears and skin, so that a more wretched beast was never seen. While in this sad plight, Lanfert and all the parish fell upon him, and cudgelled him so that his life was in danger. At last he escaped from them, and leaped into the adjoining river, and so swam away. With infinite toil and pain, he made his way back to the lion's court, bitterly cursing the honey tree, and the fox that had betrayed him.

[James Merrick, the author of this popular poem, was an English clergyman, born in 1720, died in 1768.]

OFT has it been my lot to mark
A proud, conceited, talking spark,
With eyes that hardly served at most
To guard their master 'gainst a post;
Yet round the world the blade has been,
To see whatever could be seen.

Returning from his finished tour,
Grown ten times perter than before,
Whatever word you chance to drop,
The travelled fool your mouth will stop:
"Sir, if my judgment you'll allow -
I've seen - and sure I ought to know."
So begs you'd pay a due submission,
And acquiesce in his decision.

Two travellers of such a cast,
As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed,
And on their way, in friendly chat,
Now talked of this, and then of that;

-

Discoursed a while, 'mongst other matter,
Of the chameleon's form and nature.
"A stranger animal,” cries one,
"Sure never lived beneath the sun;
A lizard's body, lean and long,
A fish's head, a serpent's tongue,
Its foot with triple claw disjoined ;
And what a length of tail behind!
How slow its pace! and then its hue
Who ever saw so fine a blue?".
"Hold there," the other quick replies,
""Tis green; I saw it with these eyes,
As late with open mouth it lay,
And warmed it in the sunny ray;
Stretched at its ease the beast I viewed,
And saw it eat the air for food.".
"I've seen it, sir, as well as you,
And must again affirm it blue;
At leisure I the beast surveyed
Extended in the cooling shade."

""Tis green, 'tis green, sir, I assure ye."
"Green!" cries the other in a fury:

"Why, sir, d'ye think I've lost my eyes?"
""Twere no great loss," the friend replies;
"For if they always serve you thus,
You'll find them of but little use."

So high at last the contest rose,

From words they almost came to blows:
When, luckily, came by a third;

To him the question they referred,
And begged he'd tell them, if he knew,

Whether the thing was green or blue.

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"Sirs," cries the umpire, cease your pother;

The creature's neither one nor t'other.

I caught the animal last night,

And viewed it o'er by candle light;

I marked it well; 'twas black as jet.
You stare; but, sirs, I've got it yet,
And can produce it."-" Pray, sir, do;
I'll lay my life the thing is blue."
"And I'll be sworn, that when you've seen
The reptile, you'll pronounce him green."
"Well, then, at once to ease the doubt,"
Replies the man, "I'll turn him out;
And when before your eyes I've set him,

If

you don't find him black, I'll eat him."
He said; and full before their sight

Produced the beast, and lo!— 'twas white.
Both stared; the man looked wondrous wise:
"My children," the chameleon cries,
(Then first the creature found a tongue,)
"You all are right, and all are wrong:
When next you talk of what you view,
Think others see as well as you :
Nor wonder if you find that none
Prefers your eyesight to his own.”

XLII. THE ONE-HANDED FLUTE PLAYER.

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

HAVING strolled through the greater part of Normandy, eaten my fill of apples in the orchards which skirt its level highways, and drank cider to my heart's content at the village inns, I found myself, on a fine evening in October, approaching the village of Arques,* memorable for a brilliant victory of Henry IV. It is a place not more remarkable for its historical interest than it is rich in natural beauties. The ruins of an old castle overhang the village on the right, and I wound my way up the eminence on which they stand, for the purpose of exploring them.

*Pronounced Ark.

While I stood musing "in the open air, where the scent comes and goes like the warbling of music," the soft sounds of a flute came faintly towards me, breathing a tone of such peculiar and melting expression as I thought I had never before heard. Having for some time listened in great delight, a sudden pause ensued; the strain then changed from sad to gay, not abruptly, but by a running cadence that gently lifted the soul from its languor, and thrilled through every fibre of feeling.

I descended the hill towards the village in a pace lively and free as the measure of the music that impelled me. When I reached the level ground, and came into the straggling street, the warblings ceased. A few peasant women were seated at the doors of their respective habitations, while half a dozen children gambolled on the grass plot in the middle of the open place. I sought in vain among these objects to discover the musician; and not willing to disturb my pleased sensations by commonplace questionings, I wandered about, looking, in a sort of semi-romantic mood, at every antiquated casement. Fronting the church, and close to its western side, an arched entrance caught my particular attention, from its old yet perfect workmanship, and I stopped to examine it, throwing occasional glances through the trellis work in the middle of the gate, which gave a view of a court yard and house within. Part of the space in front was arranged as a garden; and a venerable old man was busily employed in watering some flowers. A pretty young woman stood beside him, with a child in her arms; two others were playing near; and close at hand was a man about thirty years of age, who was contemplating the group with a complacent smile.

His figure was in part concealed from me; but he observed me, and immediately left the others, and walked down the gravel path to accost me. I read his intention in his looks, and stood still. As he advanced from his concealed position, I saw that his left leg was a wooden one. His right arm was courteously waved towards me, but his left was wanting. He

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was bareheaded, and his curled brown hair showed a forehead that a phrenologist would have admired. His features were all of manly beauty. His mustachios, military jacket, and tight pantaloon with red edging, told that he was not curtailed of man's fair proportion" by any vulgar accident of life; and the cross of honor, suspended to his button hole, finished the brief abstract of his history.

A few words of apology on my part, and of invitation on his, ended in my accompanying him towards the house; and as I moved from his left side to his right, to offer one of my arms to his only one, I saw a smile on the countenance of his pretty wife, and another on that of his old father, and my good footing with the family was secured. We entered the hall a large, bleak anteroom, with three or four old portraits mouldering on the walls.

We then passed to the right, into a spacious chamber, which was once, no doubt, the gorgeously decorated drawing room of some proudly-titled occupier. The nobility of its present tenant is of a different kind; and its furniture is confined to two or three tables, twice as many chairs, a corner cupboard, and a secretary. A Spanish guitar was suspended to a hook over the marble mantel piece; a violin lay on one table, and fixed to the edge of the other was a sort of wooden vice, into which was screwed a flute of concert size, with three finger holes, and eleven brass keys, and of a most curious and elaborate construction.

It is useless to make a mystery of what the reader has already divined: my one-legged, one-armed host was the owner of this complicated machine, and the performer on it, whose wonderful tone and execution had caused me so much pleasure. But what will be said when I tell the astonished, but perhaps incredulous public, that his "good right hand" was the sole and simple one that bored and polished the wood, turned the keys and the ivory that united the joints, and accomplished the entire arrangement of an instrument unrivalled, I must believe, in ingenuity and perfection! Being but an