VOL. VII pEOPLE , B JOURNAL. tistisitEn r:vettv THURSDAY MORNING. BY _ADD' iON AVERY. Ter ms—lnvariably k Advance : Ns espy per annum, $l.OO yul a ge subscribers, 1.2.5 TERMS OF ADVERTISING. I quire, of 1.2 lines or less,l insert on, $13.50 3 inserions, 1.50 every stay:event insertion, .25 la's and figdre work, per sq., 3 insenions, 3.0 u Den - sub,e pen. inscrLion, .50 c cinun, one year, 25.00 I co:onin, six inou hs, 15.00 Aiiminii.ra ors or Exec ntors' Notices, 2.00 Sa es, her true . , 1.5(1 Professionri Cards no. exceeding eight lines wer. „l f or ss.ou per annum. [TA! , )cater; on business, to secure at motion, should be addressed (post paid) to Os Publisher. THE FIRESIDE When the snow-flakes softly rustle . On the dirkened window pane, And the nigh. winds moan and murmur In wi d and 11.1111 s:rain! Oh! how we come .s ilutt cheerful, • Brigh.iy burning, ruddy tight, Glowing fro:u the evening fireside, Glowing, ep ricing, warm and bright! flow the mellow beams are dancing On the eei ing and the floor, E'en wi hin .he hear.'s dark corners, Wi,h a gen..c g once .hey full. And in ,he r e.tr and p e sant radiance, As in the wires of go d it pays, pees ,he soul !Led wi.h sadness, Ligh.s the eye wi.h rt.diaut ray. LeTekOnei mei.: arolindthe fireside, Through he dreary win cr eve, hey cum wi 110 U: is Sri dent, TA.es of n her d ys .o weave, Soap .ha..o lie hear. ore de rest, Brea he upon he ha. ooed..ir, Voice• g y in nor h are 11/.13g ed, d ords" ai c s cee.est thug How he aged lad ho we ry Look hCC lie h Tray hedr.h, 1koho•e merry igh .he; si.or ed, Lie hey a.. ed _ugh bid 'lair h. Thnagh ,he g ow Iris mug been faded, Ugh Cr ti an ,f yore a burns, When .he spin . worn wi h wandering, To ,ha. cherished vision ,urns. Then vitii e filling snow-flakes rustle On ,he dargened window-p..ne, Le. mg , her round .he fireside, Heed es of the nigh -wind's reign. And oheu dle's co d win er commh, d .he darline, mid ,he s.orm, We'd again in memory's chamber Mee. around die fireside warm. From Pu n on's Nlon.hly for March NOTES ON PROPER NAMES. "IliNS,IL1113! COMO here, my poy —I ba y inytilieer, knows you vot for I calls my poy Brans ?" "Nu, indeed, sir, I cannot think of any peculiar fitness in it." Well, inyillieer, it ish because that his: name." Here ended the question with our Simple-minded Dutchman, here it ends with most men, who never ask why flames should he suliered to lot d tt over things. But philosophy, which always permitted to step in when utility steps out, has a longer inquisi tion in the case. To Hans it were enough to know that the rough aspi mte-na al-hi-s, is his name, and he would hal dly be so wise as to let sour krimt wi:it for him tp settle the whoctlire having any name, or that tame in which he was summoned to dinner. But philosophy never dines, and to her it imoorts much why he was so edited; aid she might from so shoat a text preach an endless disso tatimi on philology, anatomy, the progress of civilization, and the atts, d the great science ut nomenclature. But if she has her head, nobody else could ever dine; so instead of going into the wildet ness of wisdom opened up by his name, Hans may go to his father the 1) Dutchman, and we will go to the limited consideration of proper names. To commence methodically, though someways from the beginning: names are of two kinds, proper and common; yet nothing is now more common than proper names are; and, indeed, noth ing Mole proper than common names. A man's own name is his proper name, in spite of unfitness or incongruity. Tu appropriate the name of another, as at the bottom of a w. , te of hand, is, however, not proper, though, alas! too common. He is a forger who dues that, whatever his trade may be. Yet ahundred Smiths," black" or " white," thigl.t write John to their notes with uut imputation of guilt, John Smith being a common noun, and synony mous with anonymous, if that is not a In the "bract days of old," all men Were anonymous, not, indeed, John Stuith s , but really unelkistened Pagans.. It was no maneaning phrase, that of fighting to win themselves a name," fir they v erily had none ; which had this advantage, that no envious slan ,deter could rob them of one, good" or ill. This was before academie, for vetiting were adopted, or Cademus bad taken- out letters patent for his invention of letters. Billets,it is true, bad been sent before, but they were billets of wood, addressed father to the head than the understanding. Cain Is supposed to be the originator of THE PEOPLE'S JOURNAL this kind of epistlatory correspond ence. Forging was, of course im possible.• By a singular coincidence, this was the first heard of—the days of Tubal Cain, whose impudence in that respect caused a particular mention of his " ht ass ;" and the sad comequence is not omitted, that he was "first w.ho walked in irons"—very suggestive of the fate of forgers to this day—thus early, in its history, humanity is ECCII limping with its two Cants! You may suppose that Adam, or the first man„ bore a proper name, though a little stained with apple-juice. But this is a misapprehension of the customs or the time. It has become - so well known as to be a proverbial phrase, that every human, at his debut in this world, is a "little red baby;" it is a birth mark from his father Adam, who was made of red clay from the disintegrated red sand-stone with which the eat th was underpinned. Fur this reason he was called Adam, that is, Redey, just as naughty boys darkey, to people of a deeper shade. This was enough to distin guish him in that early age, when the fimily was small, and Fame's genea logical hanian had not grown to a per fect swamp of oblivion, with its myriad branches.turned trunks. We are told that he gave names to the animals, but properly speaking they were not pt open names ; merely for dLtinction he called his favorite COWS " bug- horn," . "brindle," and "line-back;" and mrthat long first day, belbre Eve carne, it is not strange that be called one graceful creature his deer," and another his '• duck." The till, g was highly proper, but the n me.. were not ; and we repeat, you c .snot 1 e too CeUrit etadolletl ilig names with things. When people began to muitiply—which Paboll says is" a more tapid way of titling addi tion"—it is obvious they must have a more cohvenicut, not to say more polite, way of distinguishing people in the second person, than to tun tugging at their coattails, and saying " you ! you!" or the not less indeli cate fashion of pointing to those in the third person ; or in their absence, of going through the laborious circumlo cution of a circumstantial description. Hence, at a very early period, men began to lay hold of any remarkable feature, even if it were 'the very nose of a man, and with equal facility if lit chanced to he enormously large, or astonishingly small, a hatchet, or a turn-up; thereby to Lang a name, which should be his biography-, por trait, caricature, or genealogy, con densed, to the very marrow and gristle. On a bald pate where a fly wonld trip up, they would stick a cognomen; and call the hardiest heti) names, to his very face. So - Nimrod—which you must not suppose to be a corruption of rain-rod—caught his name by being a great hunter ; and all the Cmphuses, Stones, Pedros, Pierces, Paythers, and Peters, are de rived from some hard headed. hard-hearted old Arab, who h piled up the rocks" in tl.e &oi l y De-•ett. Charlemange was a great Carle; Front-de-Bceuf an obstinate bull-head; and Chat les-le-Chaune, Who in spite of consecrating hereditary tights, could have no hairs to his Milne, was but a bald-headed Charley. Among men's faces, as among their opinions, were all varieties of shades, and White, Black, Blown. Grey, Dunn, and Grecn—•• to that complex ion had it come at last,"—were all fastened on the posterity their- first possessors,.as indelibly as if they bad all sat down on st; many ditlerent paint-pots. Vet hereditai y nomencla ture is comparatively model n. When -men had nothing else to give their children, they were too generous to give them the paternal name ; it was enough then, it the parent bequeathed his vit es to his s ar, with( ut the legacy of the had — twine they earned. "And the sons, to do them justice, generally did ample credit to the implied faith in their ability to earn their own repu tation in that direction. When all the natural peculiarities were ex hausted to name men by, and " still they came,"—the accidents, the inci dt nts, their exploits, and their blun ders, " the lay of the laud, and the looks of the people,"—were all pressed into the service ; and Billy Bowlegs bowed and scraped to Mr. Packpenny, and Mr. Stackpole leant his assistance to his neighbor Coblniuse, and Mr. Craven beqaeathed his name to a race of heroes, and his nature to some great uncle of Col. Bragg ; while Hill stooped kindly to Le Valle, and Underhill looked up respectfully to Montaign ; Waters ran into Lakes ; and La Fontaine had a draught li.o Lion, Lamb, Fox, Wolf, and half of Barnum-Noah's Menagerie. When arts advanced, and the com mon people became too numerous ibr particular names, they took names in classes from particular trades—so they were called according to their calling. Parsons and Priests met with Churches DEVOTED TO TILE PRINCIPLES OF DEMOCRACY, AND THE DISSEAIINATION OF MORALITY, LITFT.ATIIRE, AND NEWS COUDERSPORT, POTTER COUNTY, PA., A.P. UM 5, 1855. and Parisbers, and Dyes bound to COlns, while Graves yawned before both ; Brewer sent out Beers, and Fisher brought in Eels ; and, in sbol t , .everybody bad the name Pt . doing something in the way of :,is trills... How came thtle F.,i) many John Smiths 7 philosopher who under takes to acc6unt fot human names, and overlook s that- great question; is but poorly qualified to grapple with his subject. So - large and diversified a pottion of • the human family, Com prising us -it does every degree of ex cellence in character from sainthood to zero, and from devil-hood , up to zero, claims patticular notice in the philosophy of proper names, and this is the place to bestow . it. Why are there. so many John Smiths ? We undertake to answer the momentous inquiry. Beating, as well as beating down, is a process in most trades. He that smote with the hammer,•whether.a carpenter or metal-worker, was called a smith, one who smiteth,—drop the e and yOu have the_ name with entire ease. Hence, the family name of a race that includes more members than kindred, more namesakes of the "Meek Disciple" John--than imitators of his Meekness not to say that the smiters are more pugnacious thanother fami lies, but Only more of them. An ancient king of Poland, once victorious over an army of unbelievers, had them all chi istened ; the super fur officers first, and singly, then the sub ol according to rank, iu class es, then the soldiery, in solid regiments. . The priest waving Porn a cedar bough a shots er of holy water along the ranks. shouted as the ea:re may be— " Tenth Regiment of the Twelfth Bat talion of Light Infantry—l, baptize you Peter, in the name," c..-r-the next "J(ilni," the third - " Andrew," and so on, thiough all the Apostles, Holy Fathers, Unholy Father-Con fessors, Mat tyi s, and Mai vel-mougers ; till the whole army of the faithful hiid lent their Lame- to grace the army of the aliens, down to the baggage-boys and camp-scullions. The regiment of artisans, ail smiters before they were . fighters, chanced to be christened for the Apocalyptic Seer, and were seen dispersed by the general order, " TO the Eleventh . Regiment, Twelfth Bat talion of *the Royal Infiintry, John Smith, you are hereby disbanded, and ordered to repair to your several homes without .delay." This, in ad dition to all. the natural and ordinary methods of increase, will account for the multiplicity of Johns in all the great family of timitets. All names were significant in the primitive times, though doubtless many. %yin - , lore them were insignifi cant,_as indeed the names themselves often signified. But now, alas I what signifies a name ? A rose issupposed to be capable of exerting the same titillatory power to produce sensations of pleasure under any otner cogno- - men ; as Shakspew e has erroneously,_ but beautifully observed. Men of old did 'not so belie the . significance of their names as they now do—for being cut to fit, the gar ment of fame did fit, sometimes like the shirt of Nessus on the hack of Hercules. But handed down to pos te] ity, they sit oddly on the dwarfed or exaggerated figures of the pi e:ent. Black 1. pm trips a white-livered milk sop ; and White could play . the Moor without cork ; Craven fights like a Trojan ; Litt:e stalks by, six feet seven lit his hoot ; Strong might creep with his puny body through the swot d-hilt of his ancestor;. Swift mopes behind the snails ; and Good raises " the antiquatiid Henry" with his rogueries. Such contradictions and anamolies re sult from the use of old fossils to build new houses. Let us remember, how ever, that there are more, people now than formerly, and when all the grave- - stones of antiquity will not furnish labels enough for the demand, there is a sthall chance for selection and adaptation. Among landholders, the stock of the family tree derived its name from the soil, and with its name took nearly everything else from the soil, till the serf's had littleleft but the name. Those feudal family trees were " gallows" trees, to - use a modernism ; and the numerous dependants from their many bianche's had the name of being sup ported by the same. With them was the name, but with the lordly tree the game; wnich game some tree infect suppOrted them, as the - fly-catcher supports the fly it feeds on. In addi tion to a limn traction of their own earnings, and the privilege of fighting the battles of their loids, the retainer was allowed to take the good name of the nobles, to the vast gratification of the pride and vanity of those far sighted gentlemen who had not an ticipated the inevitable democracy of nature, which' soon confounded mas ters and servants in indistinguishable confusion. An aristocratic name .of any an _ thentk antiquity argues this assuredly tr.', its holder, -he is either descended from My Lola Foodle or his man Jack, and lucky he, if the latter, say we. Surrounded_ by their retainers, these great lords built villages for them, and as a memorial legacy to their country, enriched by their exem plaryhomehohl,the common language with two invaluable words;Knave - iiiid Villain, which was, in another . sort, giving their names . totheirretainers. Heraldic devices became a frUitful source of proper names ; so that the crusades, if they did little towards Christianizing the Paynim, did much in christening the believers. The man whose flither had killed a pecu 41arly tough Wog in the woods, was privileged to deck his epaulets with a memento ofth.2:- spoils—in short, to wear a hog's head on his shoulders ; which honor often descended where there was an astonisning natural fit ness. He could also put a pig's face in his hand;:una, -and set it up for a sign on hiS spear-pole ; and . name ofsport his haistling honors in the of Wildboar, which time, has greatly tamed -, down, and domesticated into tt ilbour. Thus boar glorifieth bore, and the bright wine of fame is put- up like any . vulgar litpkir, by the hogs head. Gratitude and a certain remorseless admi ration have been cruel disseminators of prop er names. To perpetuate, their respect or love, men, give their children the name; of great or good men, so handing down, "too lit erally, to posterity-. Geo. Washington Snabbs, Seneca Sliggs, and Solomon Muddle, are bomb e buu genuine witnesses to the immor tality of genius: There is some discount .in th s kind of glory; it renders a whi:e name liable to dir y handling, and has reduced CieSar and Pompey to their least common denominator, as dogs and donkeys. Then, if the unlucky bearer of a great name proves himsetf a getiiir., poor bewiidered Fame, • wi:h her trumpet cracked on some forte It " Second Byron," and live and fortieth " Fa - ) Ater of his Country," which, by the way doesn't speak well for said country's molter —must blow Icer immortal jaws into cramps trying to distinguish between the full sonorous blast of " William Shakespeare!" and the new worthy Wm. Tabs Shakespeare. Wil liam Tibbs were safer on his own legs. Before family names became hereditary, it was a very common . derive among all nations to prefix or affix syllables to the father's name, and give it to the son, the addition usualy signifying of or from or son. Thus_ Bar-Jo n !It was the sun ofJeurTh ; Jackson, the son of a Jack, and Jillson, the son of Jill, of that firm. Whe.her Cinneber, that alias for the thief-god, Mercury, is the son of sin, we leave to the commentators. The add.tion of the genitive 's proves that Adams is a descend ant of Adam—a fact' important to those who would enim an ancient, well-authenticated genealogy. Mac has the satue significance, and stands as a monument in the name of the great road-maker, Macadam, to show his derivation from the saints distinguished pro , genitor. When remarkable men are related. it is pleasant to know it;- hence the initity of our researches. • The We:ch multiply appellations by ups, as Richard-ap-Richard, which, by rapid ennti ctittion, becomes Richard Pri chard, the son of Richard. In this way a IVetchman m.ty carry a complete geneo:og cal list of his Lames= tors from Adatn-ap-Cain-ap—the- Lord knows who, down to the lust, prince of wails aml wan s that 'appened to -precede him. If Mr. Hazzard were a We:chtnan, his son. might be 'ap-Hazzard, without intitna tine any:hung fortuitous in his The Irish, to represent the "son q," say 0' -Hot indeed as an exc'amallon s f surpthe— for inn - that prolific Is.and the birth of a F.Oll is no such a rarity as to excite wonder. It is ray a contraction of of, a worrsufficiently short, one woMdahink, but put in such,fre quent requisition it ha& to throw off its lum bering consonant, that it may keep up with the march otpopulation. The Dutch carry along their tinnily honors in a ran, wh ch mint serves not only for Wags, but Wagons, and Wag'ners. The Russians; in handing down porsonal honors as an heir-(and-hlde-)'oom, to their families, give their sons the itch, which for eigners so sneeze at to this day. - Juroslors son Vsevolod, was the first to introduce, the custom, by calling himself Jaroslavitch, think log anything better than his own name, which a man cannot Icgin to pronounce without sticking up his nose at it. To their grand sons, in the saute euphonious tongue, they said of; dins, Kutulynoseoff is s grandson of Ku.-ruy-nose. The Or:entals; with no .intension to nick name, cAll their boys Ben, wltelt nr kes it appear that Benlvadad must have been the gun of 'A-Ditd, to say the !east. As Fame in Atte East blows her trumpet bo.h ways- - .hat is, from son to fa:her, as well as froth father to .son—they h .ve to prefix. Alice to signify the father of—; so that "Abou-Ben-Adhem," whose tr be has been resrectfully requested to "increase," must have been the father of the son of Adam, making him no other than that ilbas.rious personage bnuse 1, whose "name ied all the rest." . There needed no esi ecial prompting to his tribe, from Leigh Hunt, since it was to him that the that com ra..nd to "increase," was . given, and which has been obeyed with a cheerful S alacrity that seems to be almost too good a beginning to hold out, and pr. pares us to I xpect a falling off on the latter commandments. Aud here, Inytng descr.be'd a ciree and come back to the beginning, we pr pose to rest. From the Little Pilgrin? A PASTITHER bTOBY. . "Aunt Ellen, tell us a story.". l• "A story What sort of a one V "A panther story," says Willie: . "Oh; yes, a panther story," says Ed- gar and Eloise in a breath. "A•PanfiT tory," echoed little Delta. " W ell.l then, a panther story it mint be. But now, you must all keep still and listen. Wheu I was a little girl, not larger than Ida, I had a dear aunt Whom my sisters arid I used to tease for stories. "Once she told us 'about two young ladies who went walking in the woods and saw a panther. One of-them was so frightened that she fainted away. The other lady, of course, would not go and leave her friend to he eaten; so she staid.with her, and the ugly boast would have eaten them both, if it had not been for a hunter who came along with a gun and shot the panther just as he was about to kill the girls." " - Wasn't she a silly girl to faint said my sister. "l'd have- climbed a tree!" "But the panther could beat her climbing trees," said aunty. "I'd ba' run like ei•crything, and then he'could nut get -me," said little sister. "But," said my aunt, "he could run faster than site could; and perhaps the wisest thing she could do . was to faint, so the panther could eat her when she did not know any thing about it." "Lwould have put my arms around his neck, and squeezed him to•death!" said I, vet) , confidently; "I wouldn't have been a hit afraid."- • "Some time after that, my mother, sent me to the brook to wash some let tuce. The path led through some woods, and there were trees around the spring. When I got within sight of it, I-saw perched on the end of a log that jutted out over the dipping. hole 'such a frightful animal! One glance convinced me it was a panther! Didn't I drop the pan of lettuce, and run home! I don't think I ever run so fast befOre. As soon as I could get breath enough to speak, I told my moth cr what a fearful monster I had seen that it had such large fiery eyes,. and was twice as large as Uncle John's dog, and I was sure it was a panther." "Why,' child," said mother, "Uncle John's dog is large enough to make two panthers." "Aunty looked up very smilingly and whispered . - to- me; 'Let's go and fetch it to the house; for, of course, our brave little girl "put her arms around its neck and. spec-zed it to death.' "How foolish I telt! My blood mounted to my face in a moment, and without saying a word I followed fath er and mother to the spring. And, on the same projecting log sat a fat rac coon watching the trout in the brook, and' thinking, no doubt, what a nice dinner they would make him. But ',poor cooney did not live to eat his dinner. Father killed him with a club, and took him home, and the next day he made a breakfast fin• us. "Atter that, - for a long time, if ever was lacy, and hesitated about start ing, when, mother sent me for water, she would ask me if I was afraid of meeting another raccoon." "Tell it again! tell it again!" said a: number of little voices.. "Uli, not now; butly-and-by, if you like my stoties, I will tell you another." Tun old manwas toiling through the burden and heat of the day, in culti vating his! field with his' own hands, and depositing the promising seeds in to the fluitful lap of yielding earth. Suddenly there stood out • before him, under the shade of a huge linden tree. a vision. The old man was struck with great amazement. "I am §olomon," spoke the phant tom, in a ifriendly voice. "What are you doing here, old man ?" "If yot are • Solomon," replied the venerable laborer, "how can you ask this? In my youth you sent me to the ant; I saw its occupation - , and learned from that insect to be industrious, and to gather. What I then learned I have followed7out to this hour." "Yon have only learned half your lesson,"resumed the phantom. "Go again to the ant, and learn from that iii sect to rest in'the winter of your life,- and enjoy what you 'have gathered up." —Germ4n Allegory.. " If fire and a half yards make a perch, how many w,ll make a cat-fish 7" Ea" The fel.ow who 'perpetrated the above was last seen lishing - tbree.A in, the Aththiic, and is supposed to belong to the . —fish aris tocracy. i From Woltort's Roost, THE BIRDS OP SPRING. I= • My quiet residence in the country, aloof from 'lesbian, politics, and the money market, leaves me rather at a loss for occupation, and drives mei occasionally to the study of nature, and other low pursuits. Having few neighbors, also, on whom to exercise . my habits otobservation, I am fain to amuse myself with prying into the domestic, concerns and peculiarities of the animals around me; and du ring the present season have derived_ considerable entertainment from cer tain sociable little birds, almost the only vbiitors we have ihad during this early part of the year. Those. who have passed the winter in the country are sensible of the de- . lightful influences that accompany the earliest indications of spring• ' and of these none are , more delightful than the first notes of the birds. There is _ .one modest, little, sad-colored bird, much resembling a wren, which came about-the house juss q on the skirts of winter, when not Iblade of grass was to be seeu, and when a few prema turely warm days had given a flatter ing foretaste of soft weather. Ho sang early in the dawning, long': be- - fiu•e sunrise, and late in the evetiing.. just belore the closing in of night, his main and his vesper hymns. It is true he sang occasionally throughout the day; but at these hours his song was more remarked. He sat on a leafless tree;just before the .window, and warbled tiath his notes, few and simple, but singularly - sweet, with something of a plaintive tone, that heightened their effect._ The first morning that he was heard was a joyful one among the young fidks of my household. The long, death-like -sleep of winter was at an end; nature was once more awaken- _ cog; they now promised themselves the immediate appearance of buds and blossoms. 1 was reminded of the tempest l tossed crew of Columbus, when, after their long, dubious voy age, the field-birds came singing round the ship, though still far at sea; re juicing them with the belief of the immediate proxiMity of land. A sharp return of winter althost silenced my little songster, and dashed the hilarity of the household; yet he poured forth now and then a few- plaintive notes: between the frosty pipings - of the - breeze, like gleams of sunshine be tween wintry clouds. I have consulted my book of orni thology in vain, to find out the name of this kindly little bird, who certainly . deserves honor and favor far beyond - his Modest pretensions. He comes like the lowly violet, the most unpre tending, but welcomest of flowers, breathing the sweet fragrance of the earlY year. 1 Another of our feathered visitors, who; follow, close upon the steps of ' winter, is the Pe-wit, -or Pe-wee, or . i l Plici 4 !be-bird; for he is called by each of tfiese names, from- a fancied reseal s blance to- the sound of his monotonous note. He is a sociable- . little being, 1 ancPseeks the habitation of man. A pair! of them have built beneath my porch, and have reared several broods there -for two years past, their nest ' being never disturbed. They arrive early in the spring, just when the cro• eusand the snow-drop begin to peep \ ,forth. Their first chirp spreads glad nesi, through the house "The Plicebe I bird has come!" is heard on all sides; they are welcomed back like mem bers of the family; and speculations are made upon where they have been; and what countries they have seen, during their long absence. Their ar rival is the more cheering, as,it is prOnounced by - old, weatherwise peo pl' of the country, the sure sign that Ithe severe frosts are at an end, and i • 1 thatthe gardener may resume his 1 labors with confidence. About this time, too, arrives the blue-bird, so poetically yet truly de scribed by Wilson. His appearance gladdens the whole landscape. • You bear his soft warble in every field. He socially approaches your habita - - thin, and takes up his residence in . your vicinity. Tile happiest bird of our spring. however, and one that rivals the European lark in my estimation; is the Boblinculn or Bobolink, as he is commonly called. He arrives in that choice portion of the year which, in this latitude, answers to the descrip tion of the month of-May, as given by the poets. With us, it begins about the middle of May, and lasts until nearly the middle of June. Earlier than this, winter is apt to return on its traces, and to blight the opening beautits of the year; and later than this begin the parching, and panting. • and dissolving heats of summer. But in this genial interval, nature is in all her freshness' and • fragrance ; "the, NO. 46.