and momentum for a big jump; as a giant swings aloft a heavy sledge, that it may come down with a heavy blow. One whistle! You have come to a halt. whistles one after the other! and then, cabin is as dark Three pairs of putting on all steam, you make for the drift. The superintendent locks the door, you do not quite understand why, and in a second the battle begins. The machine rocks and creaks in all its joints. There comes a tremendous shock. The as midnight. The clouds of flying snow put out the day. The labored breathing of the locomotives behind the clouds of smoke and steam that wrap you up as in a mantle, the noonday eclipse of the sun, the surging of the ship, the rattling of chains, the creak of timbers as if the craft were aground and the sea getting out of its bed to whelm you altogether, the doubt as to what will come,-all combine to make a scene of strange excitement for a landlubber. you, You have made some impression on the breaker, and again the machine backs for a fair start, and then another plunge, and shock, and twilight. And so, from deep cut to deep cut, as if the season had packed all his winter clothes upon the track, until the stalled trains are reached and passed; and then, with alternate storm and calm, and halt and shock, till the way is cleared to Erie. It is Sunday afternoon, and Erie-"Mad Anthony Wayne's" old headquarters has donned its Sunday clothes, and turned out by hundreds to see the great plow come in, its first voyage over the line. The locomotives set up a crazy scream, and you draw slowly into the depot. The door opened at last, you clamber down, and gaze up at the uneasy house in which you have been living. It looks as if an avalanche had tumbled down upon it,—white as an Alpine shoulder. Your first thought is gratitude that you have made a landing alive. Your second, a resolution that, if again you ride a hammer, it will not be when three engines have hold of the handle! NOTES.-Chautauqua is the most western county in the state of New York; it borders on Lake Erie. The Cyclops are described in Grecian mythology as giants having only one eye, which was circular, and placed in the middle of the forehead. Cerro de Potosi is a mountain in Bolivia, South America, celebrated for its mineral wealth. More than five thousand mines have been opened in it; the product is chiefly silver. "Mad Anthony Wayne" (b. 1745, d. 1796), so called from his bravery and apparent recklessness, was a famous American officer during the Revolution. In 1794 he conducted a successful campaign against the Indians of the Northwest, making his headquarters at Erie, Pa. LXI. THE QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. Cas. THAT you have wronged me doth appear in this: That every nice offense should bear his comment. Cas. I an itching palm! You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember! Cas. Bru. What villain touched his body, that did stab, Brutus, bay not me; I'll not endure it: you forget yourself, Cas. I am. Bru. I say you are not. Go to; you are not, Cassius. Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself: Have mind upon your health; tempt me no further. Bru. Away, slight man! Cas. Is't possible? Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash choler? Cas. O ye gods! ye gods! must I endure all this? And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Is it come to this? Cas. Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well: for mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men. Cas. You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus; I said, an elder soldier, not a better: Bru. Did I say "better"? If you did, I care not. Cas. When Cæsar lived, he durst not thus have moved me. Bru. Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him. Cas. I durst not? Bru. No. Cas. What! durst not tempt him? Bru. For your life, you durst not. Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love; I may do that I shall be sorry for. Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for. Cas. For certain sums of gold, which you denied me;- By heaven! I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, To lock such rascal counters from his friends, Bru. You did. I denied you not. Cas. I did not: he was but a fool that brought My answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart: Cas. Bru. I do not like your faults. Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, Bru. Cas, Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother; My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger, Sheathe your dagger: Hath Cassius lived |