rticulars, can only be ascertained by new
observations and experiments. Block states, that they grow slowly, and
mentions that some had been kept in the same pond for fifteen years. As
very large eels, after having migrated, never return to the river again,
they must (for it cannot be supposed that they all die immediately in
the sea) remain in salt water; and there is great probability that they
are then confounded with the conger, which is found from a few ounces to
one hundred pounds in weight.

* * * * *

At Munich, every child found begging is taken to a charitable
establishment; the moment he enters his portrait is given to him,
representing him in his rags, and he promises by oath to keep it all his
life.

* * * * *

INFANCY.

[This is _one_ of the gems of the quarto volume of poetry recently
published by the author of the "Omnipresence of the Deity;" but in our
next we intend stringing together a few of the resplendent beauties which
illumine almost every page.]

On yonder mead, that like a windless lake
Shines in the glow of heaven, a cherub boy
Is bounding, playful as a breeze new-born,
Light as the beam that dances by his side.
Phantom of beauty! with his trepid locks
Gleaming like water-wreaths,--a flower of life,
To whom the fairy world is fresh, the sky
A glory, and the earth one huge delight!
Joy shaped his brow, and Pleasure rolls his eye,
While Innocence, from out the budding lip
Darts her young smiles along his rounded cheek.
Grief hath not dimm'd the brightness of his form,
Love and Affection o'er him spread their wings,
And Nature, like a nurse, attends him with
Her sweetest looks. The humming bee will bound
From out the flower, nor sting his baby hand;
The birds sing to him from the sunny tree;
And suppliantly the fierce-eyed mastiff fawn
Beneath his feet, to court the playful touch.

To rise all rosy from the arms of sleep,
And, like the sky-bird, hail the bright-cheek'd morn
With gleeful song, then o'er the bladed mead
To chase the blue-wing'd butterfly, or play
With curly streams; or, led by watchful Love,
To hear the chorus of the trooping waves,
When the young breezes laugh them into life!
Or listen to the mimic ocean roar
Within the womb of spiry sea-shell wove,--
From sight and sound to catch intense delight,
And infant gladness from each happy fa