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Other documents randomly have
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began to snow. At the same time it grew cold, and in a very short
space everything about the vessel was sheeted with ice and snow.
She became perfectly unmanageable, and was now drifting before
the gale towards the island of Nantucket, which was at our lee. We
put out our anchor, but it was not of sufficient length to reach the
bottom.
“Believing that she must inevitably go ashore, the captain loosed
his boat, and getting into it himself, directed us to follow him. His two
sons obeyed; but the old sailor, conceiving that the boat must be
swamped in the raging sea, chose to continue in the vessel and
persuaded me to remain with him. The captain departed, and
proceeded toward the shore. But it was now evening, and we soon
lost sight of him.
“We continued to drift along for a couple of hours, when the
anchor suddenly took effect, and we rode out the night in safety. In
the morning, the storm had abated, but everything was so covered
with ice that it was impossible for us to get up a sail. In this condition
we remained for four days, when a spell of milder weather set in, and
we were able to get the little schooner under way. In about a week
we reached Boston, where we learned the fate of the captain and his
two sons. He reached the shore in safety, but at the distance of
nearly three miles from any house. Both of his sons were chilled with
the intense cold, and the younger was in a short time unable to walk.
Yielding to his fate, the poor fellow lay down upon the beach and
begged his father to leave him to die, as the only means of saving
his own life and that of his brother. The father would not listen to this.
So he took the young man upon his back, and proceeded on his
way. He had not gone more than half a mile, when the elder son
sunk to the earth, incapable of proceeding farther.
“The storm still continued to rage, and for a moment the old man
gave way to despair; but soon recovering, he set forward, with the
younger son upon his back. Having proceeded a quarter of a mile,
he laid him down upon the beach, and returned to the elder boy,
whom he found almost in a state of insensibility. Taking him upon his
shoulders, he carried him to the spot where he had left his younger
son. What was his agony to discover that the boy was cold and
lifeless! He now proceeded with the one upon his back, but in a short
time his foot faltered, and he fell to the earth. There was no way, but
to leave his children, and reach the house, if possible, for aid. Faint
and exhausted, he proceeded with a staggering step, and when at
last he reached the house, his mind was so bewildered, that he
could scarcely tell his piteous tale. He said enough, however, to give
the people some intimation of the truth, and two men immediately set
out to scour the beach. They were not long in discovering the bodies
of the two boys, who were covered with the spray of the sea, thickly
frozen to their garments. Everything was done for them that kindness
could suggest, and all had the happiness of soon discovering signs
of life. Gradually, both recovered, and the anguish of the father gave
way to joy. In four days they were all able to leave the place, and
soon after our arrival with the little schooner they came on board. I
had, however, seen enough of the sea, and resolved in my heart
never to trust myself upon its treacherous bosom again. I made my
way back to my home; and, thoroughly penitent for my disobedience,
resolved never again to disobey my parents; for during the storm,
and especially that fearful night when the old sailor and myself were
alone in the vessel, the thought of my misconduct weighed heavily
upon my heart, and took away from me the power of providing
against the danger that beset me.”
As the young man finished his story, the captain puffed forth an
enormous quantity of smoke, and the rest of our party retired to bed!
 Misitra and the Ancient Sparta.

Misitra is a considerable town in Greece, and situated in the

province of Laconia. It occupies the slope of a hill, and, as you
approach it, has an imposing aspect. You would think it a very large
and splendid capital; but as you enter it, the illusion vanishes, and
you find yourself in narrow, winding, and dirty streets, where no fine
buildings, ancient or modern, meet the eye.
At the distance of a few miles are the ruins of ancient Sparta, the
capital of the Lacedemonians, a brave, stern, warlike people, who
adopted the laws of Lycurgus, and formed a great contrast to the
gay, polished, fickle Athenians. But, alas! no monuments of the
Spartans remain on the site of their ancient capital, and the place is
only marked by the remains of Roman edifices, erected after the
Spartans were subjected to the Roman yoke!
 Absence of Mind.

The following cases of absence of mind are furnished by the

newspapers:
A short time since, a person engaged a butcher to come the next
morning and kill a hog for him. The butcher told him to have the
water boiled early, and he would attend. In the morning he came,
asked if the water was boiled, and being answered affirmatively,
killed the hog, and brought him to his scalding position. He then
ordered the good man of the house to bring out the water, which he
did by bringing out cold water. This surprised the butcher.
“Where,” said he, “is your boiling water?”
“Why, here!—Molly and I boiled it last night! Oh, now I know!—you
can’t scald hogs without the water is hot!”
Exit the man of the knife, in a rage!—N. O. Pic.

On Sunday morning, between the hours of one and two o’clock,

as Inspector Donnigan, of the police, was going his rounds, he
observed a man, stripped to his shirt, standing in a short, narrow,
and uncovered passage in Denmark street, London. On approaching
him, and asking what he was doing there, the man replied that he
was getting into bed; and at the time he shook from head to foot with
the cold, which was very intense.
Donnigan asked him if he was aware he was in the street. He
replied he was not, and that he fancied he was by his bed-side, and
said his clothes were somewhere about. The officer, after searching
for some time, discovered an excellent suit of clothes and a silk
cravat on the sill of a window about thirty yards off, with shoes and
stockings underneath, and a hat close by.
 The cold had by this time brought the man to his perfect senses,
and, by the advice of the inspector, he put on his clothes, and,
thanking him for his attention, proceeded homewards!
A few years ago, Inspector Norman, belonging to the same
division, while going his rounds, had his attention directed to some
wagons which were placed in Black Lion-yard, Whitechapel, by a
loud snoring.
He procured a light, and on proceeding to the spot, he found an
Irish gentleman fast asleep between the shafts of a wagon, with his
clothes off to his shirt, and apparently as comfortable as if reposing
on a bed of down. His clothes were carefully placed over one of the
shafts, and on the top of them rested his pocket-book, containing
nearly £800 in bank notes, and in his trowsers pockets a quantity of
gold and silver, beside a valuable gold watch, &c. He was at once
aroused and taken care of, and the preservation of his property was
considered almost miraculous, as, in the immediate neighborhood in
which he was found, were located some of the most expert thieves in
Europe.—London paper.
 The Star Fish.

Did you ever stand on the rocky shore of the sea and notice the
star fishes that come floating along? Many of them appear like
pieces of jelly, drifting with the tide, without life, and without the
power of motion. But they are all capable of moving from place to
place, and shoot out their arms in every direction. Some of them
have five rays, as in the picture; this kind are called five-fingered
Jack. These star fishes have very ravenous appetites, and are very
expert in gratifying them. They grasp prawns, shrimps, worms, and
insects that come in their way; and, soft and pulpy as they seem,
woe to the poor creature that they get hold of! One thing is very
curious, and that is that they devour shells of considerable size,
which are crushed to pieces in their stomachs!

Not only are the star fishes of different forms, but they are of
different hues also: some are striped, some are red, and some
green. In fine weather, they are seen in the water, spread out, fishing
for their meal. Some have long, fibrous arms, which stretch forth to a
distance, and with them they pull in their prey. If you take one of
those creatures and put him on the shore, he becomes a mass of
offensive liquid, like water, in about twenty-four hours.
 This picture represents one of these curious creatures, called
Medusa. The kinds, as I have said, are numerous, and in some seas
they are found in myriads. The most curious property of these
strange fishes is, that they give out a light at night, which often
makes the waves very brilliant. If you ever go to sea, you will notice
this light in the track of the vessel, almost seeming as if the water
were on fire.
 WHERE IS THY HOME?
“Where is thy home, thou lonely man?”
I asked a pilgrim gray,
Who came, with furrowed brow, and wan,
Slow musing on his way.
He paused, and with a solemn mien,
Upturned his holy eyes,—
“The land I seek thou ne’er hast seen,—
My home is in the skies!”
O! blest—thrice blest! the heart must be
To whom such thoughts are given,
That walks from worldly fetters free,—
Its only home in heaven!
 Sea-Weed.

Every portion of the earth seems covered with vegetation, except

now and then some sandy desert. Even the rocks are covered with
mosses; and we have heard of little red plants, that take root so
thickly in snow-flakes, as to make a fall of snow seem like a shower
of blood.
The bottom of the sea, too, is sown with myriads of plants. These
are of many forms and many hues, but mostly of a green color: it is
owing to the plants beneath the surface that the sea has such a
verdant tinge. In some tropical portions of the sea, the marine plants
are so thick as to obstruct the passage of ships; and some species
are said to grow seven hundred feet in length!
 Inquisitive Jack and his Aunt Piper.

There was once a little boy who had neither father nor mother,
but he had an excellent aunt, and she supplied the place of parents.
Her name was Piper, and a very good woman she was. The boy’s
name was John; but, as he was always asking questions, he at
length got the name of Inquisitive Jack.
He was perpetually teasing his aunt to tell him about the sun, or
the moon,—to explain to him why the fire burned, or where the rain
came from, or something else of the kind. His aunt, being unmarried,
and having little else to do, used to sit down for hours together, and
answer little Jack’s inquiries.
One winter’s day, they were sitting by a pleasant fire, and Jack
had been reading in a book of poetry. After a while, he laid down the
book, and asked his aunt why some things were told in poetry and
some in prose. To this the good lady replied as follows.
“I must tell you, in the first place, my boy, that prose is the
language of common speech, such as I am now talking to you. But
there are certain thoughts and feelings that are too fine and beautiful
for prose. If these were expressed in a common way, their beauty
would be lost. I will try to make you understand this by a story.
“There were once some flowers growing in a garden, but they
were mixed with other plants, such as peas, beans, potatoes, beets,
and other things. These had, therefore, a common appearance, and
no one noticed their beauty.
“At length, the gardener took up these flowers, and set them out
in a nice bed of earth, which he had prepared for them. This situation
permitted their bright colors and fair forms to be seen, and they
therefore attracted the attention of every person who passed by.
 “Everybody admired them; and those who overlooked them as
common things when planted in a kitchen garden, were ready to
acknowledge their beauty, and praise their fragrance, when they
were flourishing in a flower-garden.
“Thus you perceive that I compare fine thoughts to flowers;
however beautiful they may be, they would strike us less, and please
us less, if they were presented in a common way. They want a
situation appropriate to them, and then we shall perceive and feel
their full beauty.
“Poetry, then, consists of beautiful thoughts in beautiful language,
and may be compared to a bed of flowers, with graceful forms, bright
colors, and sweet fragrance. Prose consists of common thoughts,
expressed in common language, and may be compared to a garden
filled with things that are useful rather than beautiful, such as beets,
potatoes, and cabbages.”—Second Reader.
 A word to my Correspondents.

I beg my young friends who favor me with their letters to

understand that I receive them with great pleasure, even though I do
not find an opportunity to put them all in print. I give my thanks to
Christopher Columbus; to J. A. H——, of Medford, and others, who
have taken into their heads to send me puzzles; but as I have given
a great supply of these the last month, I must pass them by, at least
for the present.
The following letter contains a suggestion that I shall certainly
comply with. The idea is a very good one.
Mr. Robert Merry:
I have just learned to read, and I wish you would put some
little stories in your Museum, such as I can understand. My
sister Jane reads it, and she likes it very much, but it has too
many long words for me. Won’t you put in two or three pages
for me, every month? I shall then like you very much.
Lucy A——.

Washington, March 23, 1842.

Dear Mr. Merry:
My mother has just commenced taking your Magazine for
me, and I like it very much. The March number was very long
in coming, but when it did come it was very interesting. Every
number that I get, I always look for Philip Brusque and the
Siberian Sable-Hunter. I was glad to find them both in this
number. I hope that the story of Philip Brusque will not long be
discontinued, it is so interesting. The puzzles, with some help,
I found out; and I set my wits to work and made one. Perhaps
you will think it worth putting in the Museum; so here it is. I am
 composed of 14 letters. My 4th, 5th, 1st, 2d, is an article
much used in winter. My 11th, 1st, 13th, 14th, 8th, an ancient
poet. My 6th, 7th, 10th, 11th, 8th, the worst of passions. My
3d, 6th, 10th, 12th, a celebrated authoress. My 9th, 3d, 1st,
6th, a purifier. My whole, our nation’s scourge.
Another Black-eyed Friend.

Mr. Robert Merry:

The following puzzle is from three subscribers for Merry’s
Museum for 1842, and it will oblige them to see it in the May
number.
H. T. C.
E. J. S.
J. W. C.
I am a word of 13 letters.

My 3d, 12th, 13th, 5th, 12th, and 9th, is the

name of one of the ex-presidents of the United States.
My 1st, 8th, 13th, and 9th, is a name common with the
female sex.
My 4th, 5th, 12th, and 13th, is the name of a metal.
My 7th, 9th, 6th, and 2d, is the name of another.
My 11th, 10th, 9th, and 2d, is a common thing
with boys in winter.
My 6th, 4th, and 5th, is one of the elements.
My whole is the name of a great warrior.

I am quite pleased with the following, and should be happy to

hear from Bertha very often.
CHARADE.

My first’s the end of him whose wife

Was turned one day to salt;
And doubtless, if the truth must out,
My fourth’s the end of malt.
 My second, if you will believe it,
Essential is to rest;
My third,—and you can well conceive it,—
Is that which you love best.
My fifth—my last—’tis found in heaven—
’Tis found, alas! in hell;
And though not in an oyster met,
It lives in every shell.
Already hath my humble name
In these brief lines been set;
But modest merit’s overlooked,
And you don’t see me yet!
I am the greatest earthly good,—
The only path to glory,—
Come, gentle reader, guess my name,
And keep me e’er before thee!—Bertha.

The letter from J. A. is very gratifying, so I give it an insertion.

Petersburgh, Va., March 2, 1842.
Mr. Merry:
I have just begun to take your Museum, and I like it very
much. I think you tell stories very much as Peter Parley did. I
like Parley’s books so much that I called my little dog Peter
Parley. He died some time ago, and now I am going to get
another, and I intend to call it Robert Merry. I hope you won’t
be offended at this, for we always call dogs after famous
people. I think the best of your stories is the Sable-Hunter, but
I really wish you would go on with it a little faster.
James A——.
The following is inserted, not because it is a very famous
specimen of poetry but because it is written by quite a young person,
and shows a very tender feeling

ON A DEAD RABBIT.
Once upon a time,
When I was in my prime,
I had a rabbit white as milk,
And its hair was soft as silk.

One morn I went to feed it,—

There was no rabbit there—
And long I hunted after it,
Looking everywhere.

One day, when I was wandering,

Something met my eye,
It was my little rabbit,
Hung on a tree close by.

But oh! I can’t relate it—

That pretty one was dead;
And sadly did I bury it,
In a lonely, narrow bed!
 “FAR AWAY”—THE BLUEBIRD’S SONG.
THE WORDS AND MUSIC COMPOSED FOR MERRY’S MUSEUM.

I dwelt in climes where flowers bloom,

And know no chill, no wintry tomb;
A joyous land, where one might stay;
But home, sweet home was far away—
But home, sweet home, was far a-way.

I sat upon the topmost bough

At peep of dawn, as I do now,
And tried to sing a cheerful lay—
But no—’twas ever “far away!”

I loved that land of fruits and flowers,

Where spring and summer twine their bowers,
And gentle zephyrs round them play—
But my birth-tree was far away!
Far north, where I was born and bred,
My winged thoughts were ever fled;
And, spurning joys that round me lay,
I sighed for pleasures far away!

Gay birds around sang many a song,

And cheerful notes rang loud and long—
But oh, my heart tuned every lay
To plaintive airs of “far away!”

The brook came laughing down the dell,

Yet sad to me its joyous swell;
And though its chime made others gay,
I only thought of “far away!”

And now, returned, how dear the hours,

Though chill the wind and bare the bowers;
Yet this is home; and that sad lay
I sing no more of—“far away!”
MERRY’S MUSEUM.

V O L U M E I I I . — N o . 6 .

A lady listening to the notes of a harp.

 The sense of Hearing.

The sense of hearing lies in the ear, the organs of which are
contrived with admirable skill and ingenuity. The air is capable of
being moved so as to produce a rapid shaking or vibration. Such a
movement of the air is made by the explosion of a gun, by the
human voice, &c. Thus vibration of the air with the perception of it, is
what we call sound.
Now at the bottom of a winding cavity in the ear is a delicate
organ called the drum, which is affected by every motion of the air,
however slight; and which, by means of nerves, conveys to the brain
the perception of such motion. It is by this means that we hear
distant as well as near sounds, and often know what is going on
even beyond the reach of sight. Hearing, then, is only perceiving
vibrations or quick motions of the air, and sound is only such
vibration, with the perception of it.
The delicacy and perfection of the mechanism of the ear are so
great, that by its power we not only are able to distinguish the
vibrations of the air, caused by the voice of one person, from those
produced by that of another, but even to distinguish the vibrations,
produced by one string of a musical instrument from those of
another. It is owing to the perfection of this mechanism that we are
able to distinguish musical notes, to judge of the distance of sounds,
to discriminate between the several songs of the orchard and the
grove.
Most quadrupeds have long ears, which they can move forward
and back with great ease, so as to distinguish with quickness and
accuracy the species of sounds, and the nature and situation of the
animals or objects which produce them. If you notice a cat or dog, or
even a horse, you will observe that the ear is very active, seeking to
gather information as to what is going on around. The ears of the
hare and rabbit are peculiarly fitted to the use of such timid
creatures.