the boatman as he goes to hunt the sea-fowl from islet to islet of the fiord, or carries out his nets or his rod to catch the sea-trout, cod, or herring, which abound in their seasons on the coast of Norway.

It is difficult to say whether these fiords are more beautiful in the summer or the winter. In summer, they glitter with golden sunshine; and purple and green shadows from the forest and mountain lie on them; and these may be more lovely than the faint light of the winter noons of those latitudes, and the snowy pictures of frozen peaks which then show themselves on the surface; but before the day is half over, out come the stars,-the glorious stars-which shine like nothing we have ever

seen.

There the planets cast a faint shadow, as the young moon does with us; these planets, and the constellations of the sky, as they silently glide over from peak to peak of these rocky passes, are imaged on the waters so clearly that the fisherman, as he unmoors his boat for his evening task, feels as if he were about to shoot forth his vessel into another heaven, and to cleave his way among the stars.

Still as everything is to the eye, sometimes for a hundred miles together along these deep sea valleys, there is rarely silence. The ear is kept awake by a thousand voices. In the summer there are cataracts leaping from ledge to ledge of the rocks; and there is the bleating of the kids that browse; and the flap of the great eagle's wings, as it dashes abroad from its aerie; and the cries of whole clouds of sea-birds that inhabit the islets; and all these sounds are mingled and multiplied by the strong

echoes, till they become a din as loud as that of a city.

Even at night, when the flocks are in the fold, and the birds at roost, and the echoes themselves seem to be asleep, there is occasionally a sweet music heard, too soft for even the listening ear to catch by day.

Every breath of summer wind that steals through the pine forests, wakes this music as it goes. The stiff, spiny leaves of the fir and pine vibrate with the breeze, like the strings of a musical instrument, so that every breath of the night wind, in a Norwegian forest, wakens a myriad of tiny harps; and this gentle and mournful music may be heard in gushes the whole night through.

This music, of course, ceases when each tree becomes laden with snow; but yet there is a sound in the midst of the longest winter night. There is the rumble of some avalanche, as, after a drifting storm, a mass of snow, too heavy to keep its place, slides and tumbles from the mountain peak. There is also, now and then, a loud crack of the ice in the nearest glacier; and, as many declare, there is a crackling to be heard by those who listen when the Northern Lights are shooting and blazing across the sky.

Nor is this all. Wherever there is a nook among the rocks on the shore where a man may build a house, and clear a field or two; wherever there is a platform beside the cataract where the sawyer may plant his mill, and make a path from it to join some great road,-there is a human habitation and the sounds that belong to it. Thence, in winter nights, come music and laughter and the

tread of dancers, and the hum of many voices. The Norwegians are a social and hospitable people; and they hold their gay meetings, in defiance of their arctic climate, through every season of the year. HARRIET MARTINEAU.

Biography.-Harriet Martineau was born at Norwich (nôr' rĭj), England, in 1802, and died in 1876.

Miss Martineau received an excellent education and entered

upon a literary life. The acuteness of her powers of observation was due to her careful training in early youth. The loss of hearing more than any other reason, caused her to shun society and devote her time to travel. Few persons have viewed understandingly so much, or have given us the results of their observation in so pleasing and useful a form.

Notes.- Fiord is pronounced as a single syllable-fyôrd; glacier is pronounced either as glā'seer or glǎs'i er.

Language.—Add the suffix ive to the following words and then define the words so formed:-Sport, act, invent, attract. Employ each of the words just formed in a sentence, showing its proper meaning.

Summer of 'sixty-three, sir, and Conrad was gone away-
Gone to the county-town, sir, to sell our first load of hay-
We lived in the log-house yonder, poor as ever you've seen;
Röschen, there, was a baby, and I was only nineteen.

Conrad, he took the oxen, but he left Kentucky Belle;
How much we thought of Kentuck, I couldn't begin to tell-
Came from the Blue-grass N country; my father gave her to me
When I rode north with Conrad, away from the Tennessee.

Conrad lived in Ohio-a German he is, you know

The house stood in broad corn fields, stretching on, row after row. The old folks made me welcome; they were kind as kind could be; But I kept longing, longing for the hills of the Tennessee.

O, for a sight of water, the shadowed slope of a hill!
Clouds that hang on the summit, a wind that never is still!
But the level land went stretching away to meet the sky-
Never a rise from north to south, to rest the weary eye!

From east to west, no river to shine out under the moon,
Nothing to make a shadow in the yellow afternoon;
Only the breathless sunshine, as I looked out, all forlorn;
Only the "rustle, rustle," as I walked among the corn.

When I fell sick with pining, we didn't wait any more,
But moved away from the corn-lands out to this river shore-
The TuscarawasN it's called, sir-off there's a hill, you see-
And now I've grown to like it next best to the Tennessee.

I was at work that morning. Some one came riding like mad Over the bridge and up the road-Farmer Rouf's little lad: Bareback he rode; he had no hat; he hardly stopped to say, Morgan's N men are coming, Frau N; they're galloping on this way.

"I'm sent to warn the neighbors. He isn't a mile behind;
He sweeps up all the horses-all the horses that he can find,—
Morgan, Morgan the Raider, and Morgan's terrible men,
With bowie-knife and pistols, are galloping up the glen."

The lad rode down the valley, and I stood still at the door; The baby laughed and prattled, playing with spools on the floor; Kentuck was out in the pasture; Conrad, my man, was gone; Nearer, nearer Morgan's men were galloping, galloping on!

Sudden I picked up baby, and ran to the pasture bar:
"Kentuck!" I called; "Kentucky!" She knew me ever so far!
I led her down to the gully that turns off there to the right,
And tied her to the bushes; her head was just out of sight.

As I ran back to the log-house, at once there came a soundThe ring of hoofs, galloping hoofs, trembling over the groundComing into the turnpike out from the White-Woman GlenMorgan, Morgan the Raider, and Morgan's terrible men.

As near they drew and nearer, my heart beat fast in alarm;
But still I stood in the doorway, with baby on my arm.
They came; they passed; with spur and whip in haste they sped
along-

Morgan, Morgan the Raider, and his band six hundred strong.

Weary they looked and jaded, riding through night and day;
Pushing on east to the river, many long miles away.

To the border-strip where Virginia runs up into the west,
And ford the upper Ohio before they could stop to rest.

On like the wind they hurried, and Morgan rode in advance: Bright were his eyes like live coals, as he gave me a sideways

glance;

And I was just breathing freely, after my choking pain,
When the last one of the troopers suddenly drew his rein.

Frightened I was to death, sir; I scarce dared look in his face, As he asked for a drink of water and glanced around the place. I gave him a cup and he smiled-'twas only a boy, you seeFaint and worn, with dim blue eyes; and he'd sailed on the Tennessee.

Only sixteen he was, sir-a fond mother's only son

Off and away with Morgan before his life had begun!

The damp drops stood on his temples; drawn was the boyish mouth;

And I thought me of the mother waiting down in the South!

O, pluck was he to the backbone, and clear grit through and through;

Boasted and bragged like a trooper; but the big words wouldn't do;
The boy was dying, sir, dying, as plain as plain could be,
Worn out by his ride with Morgan up from the Tennessee.