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Flashed all their sabres bare,
Flashed as they turned in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while

All the world wondered;
Plunged in the battery smoke,
Right through the line they broke:
Cossack and Russian

Reeled from the sabre stroke
Shattered and sundered:

Then they rode back, but not—
Not the Six Hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them,

Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came through the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of Six Hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!

All the world wondered.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade!
Noble Six Hundred!



SON of the ocean isle! where sleep your mighty dead? Show me what high and stately pilel is reared o'er Glory's bed. Go, stranger, track the deep, free, free the white sail spread! Wavel may not foam, nor wild wind' sweep, where rest notꞌ England's dead.

On Egypt's burning plains, by the pyramid o'er-swayed, With fearful power' the noon-day reigns, and the palm-trees! yield no shade.

But let the angry sun from heaven' look fiercely red, Unfelt by thosel whose task is done! - there slumberl England's dead!

The hurricane hath might along the Indian shore,

And far by Ganges' banks at night' is heard the tiger's roar; But let the sound roll on! it hath no tone of dread

For those that from their toils are gone;-there slumber' England's dead.

Loud rush the torrent-floods! the western wilds among; And free, in green Columbia's woods, the hunter's bow is strung;

But let the floods! rush on! let the arrow's flight! be sped! Why should they reck! whose task is done?—There slumberl England's dead.

The mountain-storms' rise high in the snowy Pyrenees, And toss the pine-boughs through the sky, like rose-leaves on the breeze;

But let the storm' rage on! let the fresh wreaths' be shed! For the Roncesvalles' field' is won,-there slumber! England's dead.

On the frozen deep's reposel 'tis a dark and dreadful hour, When round the ship' the ice-fields close, and the northern night-clouds lower;

But let the icel drift on! let the cold blue desert! spread! Their course with mast and flag is done, even there sleep! England's dead.

The warlike of the isles-the men of field and wave

Are not the rocks their funeral piles? the seas and shores! their grave?

Go, stranger, track the deep, free, free the white sail spread! Wavel may not foam, nor wild wind' sweep, where rest not! England's dead.



In the days of my youth, when a black moustache curled where now you see the hoary beard of my winter's age, I seldom passed a night within my father's hut; but sallying out with my gun, lay in wait for the wild animals which frequented a neighbouring forest. One moonlight night I had taken my position on a high rock, which overhung a fountain and a small marsh, a favourite spot with our hunters to watch for boars, who resorted thither to drink and root. The moon had traversed half the heavens, and I, tired with waiting, had fallen into a dose, when I was roused by a rustling in the wood, as on the approach of some large animal. I raised myself with caution, and examined the priming of my gun ere the animal entered the marsh. He paused and seemed to be listening, when a half growl, half bark, announced him to be a boar, and a huge beast he was, and with stately step he entered the marsh.

I could now see by the bright moon, as he neared my station, that his bristles were white with age, and his tusks gleamed like polished steel among the dark objects round him. I cocked my gun, and waited his approach to the fountain.

Having whetted his ivory tusks, he began to root; but he appeared to be restless, as if he knew some enemy was at hand; for every now and then raising his snout, he snuffed the air.

I marvelled at these movements, for as the breeze came from a quarter opposite to my position, I knew I could not be the object of the boar's suspicions. Now, however, I distinctly heard a slight noise near the edge of the marsh: the boar became evidently uneasy; he once or twice made a low moan, and again began to root.

Keeping a sharp look out on the spot whence I heard the strange noise, I fancied I could distinguish the grim and shaggy head of a lion crouching upon his fore paws, and, with eyes that glared like lighted charcoal through the bushes, he seemed peering at the movements of the boar.

I looked agaia, and now I could see plainly a lion creeping, cat-like, on his belly, as he neared the boar, who was busy rooting, but with bristles erect, and now and then muttering something that I could not understand.

The lion had crept within about twenty feet of the boar, but was hidden in part by some rushes. I waited breathless for the result; and, although myself out of danger, I trembled with anxiety at the terrible scene.

To my surprise

The boar again raised his snout, and half turned his side towards the lion, and I fancied I could see his twinkling eye watching the enemy. Another moment, and the lion made a spring, and was received by the boar, who reared up on his hind legs. I thought I could hear the blow of his tusks as the combatants rolled on the ground. Leaning over the rock, I strained my eyes to see the result. the boar was again on his legs, and going back a few paces, rushed at his fallen foe: a loud yell was given by the lion, which was answered by the distant howlings of the jackals. Again and again the ferocious boar charged till he buried his very snout in the body of the lion, who was kicking in the agony of death. Blood indeed flowed from the sides of the boar, and his bristles still stood erect as he triumphed over the sultan of the forest, and now he seemed to be getting bigger and bigger. "God is great!" said I, as I trembled with dread: "he will soon reach me on the rock.” I threw myself flat on my face, and cried out, "There is no other God but God, and Mohammed is his prophet!" I soon recovered my courage, and looked again. The boar had returned to his natural size, and was slaking his thirst in the fountain. I seized my gun, but, reflecting, said within myself, "Why should I kill him? He will not be of any use to me; he has fought bravely, and left me the skin of a lion, and perhaps he may be a Jin:"* so I laid down the gun, contenting myself with thoughts of the morrow.

The boar had left the fountain, and was again busied rooting in the marsh, when another slight noise, as of a rustling in the wood, attracted my notice, and I could perceive the

* An evil genius or spirit.

smooth head of a lioness looking with surprise and horror at the body of her dead mate.

She advanced boldly. The boar stood prepared, grinding his teeth with rage. She paused, retreated to the wood, and again stopped, and, lashing her tail, roared with a voice that the whole wood re-echoed.

The boar stamped his hoofs, and gnashed his tusks again with rage; his grisly bristles, red with the blood of her mate, stood on end; then, lowering his snout, he rushed headlong against the lioness, who, springing aside, avoided the dread blow. A cloud came over the moon; I could not see distinctly, but I heard every blow of the paw and every rip of the tusk. There was a dead silence: again the cloud had passed, and the heavens were clear, and I saw the lioness with her fore paws on the body of the boar.

I seized my gun and aimed at her head; that was her last moment. The morning dawned. I descended from the rock. The claw of the lioness still grasped in death the body of the boar. Many severe wounds showed that the boar had again fought bravely.

The lions were the finest I ever saw, and I made good profit by that night's work.



Alcohol, spirits of wine. (An Arabic
Aqueduct, (aqua, duco, L.) a huge
pile of arches, built by the an-
cients for carrying water over val-

Area, (L.) the surface contained within
any lines or boundaries.
Elastic, (elauno, G.) springy. Hence
also inelastic, elasticity.
Fluid, (fluo, L.) Lit. flowing, or capa-

ble of flowing. (A term including both liquids and gases.)

Paradox, para, doxa, G.) an apparent impossibility; an assertion which seems contrary to reason.

Piston, (F.) the sucker of a pump; a small cylinder sliding in the hollow of a larger one.

Specific Gravity is the weight of a body, compared with that of an equal bulk of other bodies. Hence specifically.


LIQUIDS and gases are often called fluids, because their particles, having little or no mutual cohesion, move freely among one another. Thus, water is a fluid, and air is

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