The paternal affection of the delim is remarkable: he never leaves his offspring; he faces every danger, and combats every foe in their defence. The reumda, on the contrary, is easily terrified, and leaves all to secure her own safety; so that it is usual to compare a man who bravely defends his tent to a delim, and a pusillanimous soul to a reumda. The delim finds himself more than a match for the dog, the jackal, the hyæna, or the eagle: man is his only invincible foe; yet he dares to wage the unequal war when the young are in danger. If the Arabs desire to make a prey of the ral, as the young ostriches are called, they follow their footmarks, and having nearly overtaken them, they begin to shout; the terrified birds run to their parents, who face about, and stand still to fight for them; so the Arabs lead away the ral before their eyes, in spite of the bravadoes of the delim, who then manifests the liveliest grief. Sometimes the greyhound is employed in this sport: the delim attacks him, and while they are fighting, the men carry off the young ones, to bring them up in their tents.
The ral are easily tamed; they sleep under the tent, are exceedingly lively, and play with the children and dogs. When the tents are struck for a flitting, the pet ostriches follow the camels, and are never known to make their escape during the migration. If a hare passes, and the men start in pursuit of it, the ostrich darts off in the same direction, and joins the chase. If she meets in the douar (village of tents) a child holding any eatable thing in its hand, she lays him gently on the ground, and robs without hurting him. But the tame ostrich is a great thief, or rather is so voracious, it devours everything it finds—even knives, female trinkets, and pieces of iron. The Arab on whose authority these details are given, relates that a woman had her coral-necklace carried off and swallowed by an ostrich; and an officer in the African army affirms, that one of them tore off and ate the buttons of his surtout. The ostrich is, at the same time, exceedingly dexterous; so that she will tear a date from a man's mouth without hurting him. The Arabs are distrustful of her, and know where to lay the blame if, on counting their money, they find two or three dollars missing.
It is no uncommon thing to see, at some distance from a douar, a wearied child riding on the back of an ostrich, which carries its burden directly towards the tent, the young Jehu holding on by the pinions. But she would not carry too heavy a load—a man, for instance—but would throw him on the ground with a flap of her wing.
When ostriches are taken to market in Africa, their legs are tied almost close together with a cord, another cord attached to this one being held in the hand.
PROGRESS OF THE UNITED STATES
The official statement of the United States' census, published at Washington in December last, furnishes us with the means of knowing what our American brethren have been doing in the ten years from 1840 to 1850. In that decennial period, the whole territory had increased from 2,055,163 to 3,221,595 square miles, exclusive of the great lakes in the interior, and deeply-indenting bays on the coast. The gross population in June 1850, numbered 23,246,201; an increase from June 1840 of 6,176,848. Of these, 19,619,366 were whites; 3,198,298 were slaves; and free blacks, 428,637; the increase having been respectively, 5,423,371—711,085—42,392. The whole increase was equivalent to 3½ per cent.; while in Europe, it is not more than 1½ per cent.; and if it continue as at present, the population will, forty years hence, exceed that of England, France, Spain, Portugal, Sweden, and Switzerland put together. The deaths in the last of the ten years were 320,194, being 1 to each 72.6, or 10 to each 726 of the inhabitants; this return is, however, supposed to involve an error, as the mortality is less in proportion than in the most favoured parts of Europe; whereas the reverse is generally considered to be the fact. In the same year, 1467 slaves were manumitted, and 1011 escaped. The number of emigrants from foreign countries during the 10 years was 1,542,850.
Among the individual states, the most populous are New York, which numbers 3,097,394 inhabitants; Pennsylvania, 2,311,786; Ohio, 1,980,408; Virginia, 1,421,661; Massachusetts, 994,499; Indiana, 988,416; Kentucky, 982,405; Georgia, 905,999. Taking the whole 31 states, the proportion of inhabitants is 15.48 to the square mile: the free states comprise 13,605,630, and the slave states, 9,491,759 of population.
To supply this population, there are 2800 newspapers: 424 in the New England states; 876 in the middle states; 716 in the southern states; and 784 in the western states. Three hundred and fifty are dailies, 150 three times a week, 125 twice a week, 2000 weekly, 50 fortnightly, 100 monthly, and 25 quarterly: the aggregate circulation being 422,600,000 yearly. There is 1 periodical for every 7161 free inhabitants.
The capital invested in manufactures, excluding the establishments under 500 dollars of annual value, amounted to 530,000,000 dollars; the value of raw material was 550,000,000; the amount paid for labour (in one year we presume), 240,000,000; value of articles manufactured, 1,020,300,000; persons employed, 1,050,000. There were 1094 cotton 'establishments' in operation, which produced 763,678,407 yards of sheeting; 1559 woollen establishments, which produced 82,206,652 yards of cloth; 2190 iron establishments, which produced 1,165,544 tons of iron of various kinds.
Of improved lands, there were 112,042,000 acres; of wheat, 104,799,230 bushels were grown in the last year; 591,586,053 bushels of Indian corn; 199,532,494 pounds of tobacco; 13,605,384 tons of hay; 32,759,263 pounds of maple-sugar were made; 314,644 hogsheads of cane-sugar of 1000 pounds each; 312,202,286 pounds of butter; and 103,184,585 pounds of cheese.
EFFECT OF THE EARTH'S ROTATION ON LOCOMOTION
The following is from Herapath's Journal on the effect of the earth's rotation on locomotion: 'Mr Uriah Clarke, of Leicester, has called our attention to an article in the Mechanic's Magazine, by himself, on the influence of the earth's rotation on locomotion. It is well known, that as the earth revolves on its axis once in twenty-four hours, from west to east, the velocity of any point on its surface is greater nearer the equator, and less further from it, in the ratio of the cosine of the latitude. Mr Clarke says: "Some rather important conclusions in relation to railway travelling arise out of the view now taken. The difference between the rotative velocity of the earth in surface-motion at London and at Liverpool is about twenty-eight miles per hour; and this amount of lateral movement is to be gained or lost, as respects the locomotion in each journey, according to the direction we are travelling in from the one place to the other; and in proportion to the speed will be the pressure against the side of the rails, which, at a high velocity, will give the engine a tendency to climb the right-hand rail in each direction. Could the journey be performed in two hours between London and Liverpool, this lateral movement, or rotative velocity of the locomotive, would have to be increased or diminished at the rate of nearly one-quarter of a mile per minute, and that entirely by side-pressure on the rail, which, if not sufficient to cause the engine to leave the line, would be quite sufficient to produce violent and dangerous oscillation. It may be observed, in conclusion, that as the cause above alluded to will be inoperative while we travel along the parallels of latitude, it clearly follows, that a higher degree of speed may be attained with safety on a railway running east and west than on one which runs north and south." There is no doubt of the tendency Mr Clarke speaks of on the right-hand rail, but we do not think it will be found to be so dangerous as he says. It will be greatest on the Great Northern and Berwick lines, and least on the Great Western.'
FOREST SCENERY OF AMERICA
The forests between Lake Superior and the Mississippi, where the country is very flat and wet, are composed almost entirely of black cypress; they grow so thick that the tops get intermixed and interlaced, and form almost a matting overhead, through which the sun scarcely ever penetrates. The trees are covered with unwholesome-looking mosses, which exhale a damp earthy smell, like a cellar. The ground is so covered with a rank growth of elder and other shrubs, many of them with thorns an inch long, and with fallen and decayed trunks of trees, that it is impossible to take a step without breaking one's shins. Not a bird or animal of any kind is to be seen, and a deathlike silence reigns through the forest, which is only now and then interrupted by the rattle of the rattlesnake (like a clock going down), and the chirrup of the chitnunck, or squirrel. The sombre colour of the foliage, the absence of all sun even at mid-day, and the vault-like chilliness one feels when entering a cypress swamp, is far from cheering; and I don't know any position so likely to give one the horrors as being lost in one, or where one could so well realise what a desolate loneliness is. The wasps, whose nests like great gourds hang from the trees about the level of one's face; the mosquitoes in millions; the little black flies, and venomous snakes, all add their 'little possible' to render a tramp through a cypress swamp agreeable.—Sullivan's Rambles.
THE BETTER THOUGHT
The Better Thought! how oft in days
When youthful passion fired my breast,
And drove me into devious ways,
Didst thou my wandering steps arrest,
And, whispering gently in mine ear
Thine angel-message, fraught with love,
Check for the time my mad career,
And melt the heart naught else could move!
Thine was no stern and harsh rebuke;
No 'friend's advice,' so true, so cold;
No message wise, such as in book,
Or by the teacher oft is told,
Which, like the pointless arrow, falls,
And rings perhaps with hollow sound,
But ne'er the wanderer recalls,
And ne'er inflicts the healing wound.
Thy voice was gentle, winning, mild;
Thy words told thou wert from above,
Like those with which the wayward child
Is wooed by a fond mother's love;
Or like a strain of music stealing
Across the calm and moonlit seas,
Which moves the heart of sternest feeling,
And wakes its deeper harmonies.
Sweet was thy presence, welcomed guest;
And I, responsive to thy call,
Arose, and felt within my breast
A power that made the fetters fall
From off my long enthrallèd soul,
And woke, as with a magic spell,
Griefs which yet owned the soft control
Of hopes that all might still be well.
But ah, thou wast an injured guest!
How soon departed, soon forgot,
Were all the hopes of coming rest
That clustered round the Better Thought—
The tender griefs, the firm resolves,
The yearnings after better days,
Like transient sunlight which dissolves,
And leaves no traces of its rays!
Yet I despair not—through the night
That long has reigned with tyrant sway,
E'en now I see the opening light,
The harbinger of coming day;
To Heaven I now direct my prayer—
O God of love, forsake me not!
Grant that my waywardness may ne'er
Quench the returning Better Thought!
Garvald. J. F.