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 11 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 't is 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 gratify-
ing, 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 SableHunter, 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.

chill,

I sat upon the topmost bough
At peep of dawn, as I do now,
And tried to sing a cheerful lay-
But no- 't was 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!"

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.

We observe that children seem often inattentive to sounds, and that they are very fond of noise. The reason is this: the bones of their ears are soft, and therefore not sonorous; accordingly, their sense of hearing is dull. When they appear inattentive, they do not hear; yet the exercise of the sense is pleasant, and therefore loud noises delight them. For this reason it is that they usually speak loud, and, when several of them are together, they seern to be much gratified with making an uproar.

The sense of hearing is not only of the greatest use to us in the serious business of life, but it is the source of an infinite number of pleasures. What

gratification we sometimes enjoy at hearing the voice of a dear friend! What enjoyment we derive from music! Beside all this, language, which is the great vehicle of thought, is communicated by the ear. It is true that after they are formed we commit words to paper; but these are only signs of sounds previously formed. Without hearing we could have no speech, and all would be dumb; without speech there could be no writing, no books. How vastly, then, is the circle of our knowledge and our pleasures enlarged by this sense, and how does the goodness and the wisdom of the Creator appear in bestowing upon his creatures such a wonderful and beneficent gift!

"Fresh Flowers."

THIS is the pleasant title of a pleasant book, which a kind friend has sent me. There is a resemblance between bright thoughts and bright blossoms, between the world of poetry and the world of roses, and honeysuckles, and lilacs, and lilies: and therefore the title of this book is not only pretty, but appropriate. Let any one read the following, and he will see that such a book may well bear the title of "Fresh Flowers."

A TALK AMONG THE FLOWERS. "Do flowers talk?" said Caroline; "I never hear Voices from mine. Mamma, you said the flowers told Wondrous things, both new and old." "Sweet voices come from every flower, That blooms in garden, Wood or bower;

Sweet, silent voices, Caroline :
Come then and listen, daughter mine."
"I will to you a story tell,

And you must mind
The moral well;
'T will teach you a bright lesson, child,
From garden flowers, and blossoms wild."

Not far from the borders of a dark wood, was a bright and cheerful-looking garden. Flowers were there, of every hue and form, growing and rejoicing beneath the beams of the summer's sun. "Ah, how happy we are!" said the marigold to the larkspur.

'Here we bloom and soar upward almost to the very sun," said a family of sun-flowers.

"Yes, and climb as high as the sky," cried a convolvolus and jasmine, who had wound themselves round a tall princess-feather.

"How brilliant and stately we are," said the proud dahlia. "We are admired far more than those pale flowers that grow in yonder wood."

"I pity the poor faded things," whispered a bright coreopsis.

I look down upon them," said a fierce tiger-lily.

"The sun loves the garden flowers best," said a pansy of great beauty, to some sweet mignionette; "let us be glad that our home is in this bright place."

"I will ring a peal for very happiness," replied a gay Canterbury bell; for how could we exist in the gloom of that forest?"

"Let us be merry and glad that we are not wood flowers," shouted they all, with a musical laugh that rung through the wood and made the wild-flowers wonder.

A bright golden-rod, that grew on the edge of the forest, with his friend the aster, heard this conversation, and felt the injustice of it. Gracefully bowing his yellow plumes, he exclaimed, "Indeed, you do not know us; our life is the happiest in the world. In the deep woods, sheltered from the storm and heat, by the towering trees that soar above us like guardian angels, we live in peace and beauty. The sun does not always bathe us in a flood of light as he does

the garden flowers, but he darts his beams through green boughs, and they come to us in tenfold beauty, scattered in a golden shower; and in the still night, the stars look down between the tops of the tall trees, and gaze silently and lovingly upon us."

The wood flowers heard the silvery tones of the golden-rod with glee, as he recounted their blessed sources of delight.

We have music too," said he, "such as never floats through garden airs. We listen to the wind, as it sighs through the pines, and waves the bowery branches of the oak and maple; for each tree is a separate harp, that gives forth its own sweet melodies."

Then all the flowers that grew by the brook said, "Hear the music of the waters, as they dash along over the rocks, and look on them as they reflect the sunlight upon us, and make us bright and beautiful."

And the little mosses called out from

the shades, "O let us always grow in the greenwood, and live in its shadows, and delight in its sweet voices."

Then the ferns waved joyfully, and the clematis clung round the elder in a close embrace; and they blessed themselves that they lived amid the lights and shades of the forest.

It

Then spoke the "lilies of the field" to the little blue-eyed grass, that was looking up into the sky: "How merry are we in the meadows, where grows all that is greenest and freshest. Happiness pervades and fills the universe. is above us with the birds and the clouds, around us with every flower and green leaf and blade of grass. Let man take a lesson from our kingdom and be wise; for all here are happiest in the place allotted to them by their Creator."

The following contains a very beautiful thought, and it is expressed with a