the most wonderful way—they are not "cruel nor bloodthirsty on the contrary, they "easily forgive injuries," are fond of instruction, fond of good arts and sciences, and "naturally inclined to equity," their impressions of Christianity specially sweet and joyous: in brief, according to this writer they are a much-maligned, misrepresented people, and our conceptions of them are radically wrong. But we notice one little particularity in the author's treatment of his subject. He quotes, with decided faith, whatever " our honest Ludolph" says on the side of his interesting protogés, but throws overboard as unbelievable the disagreeable characteristics quoted as facts by the same author. Several well-written papers make us part with regret with this number of the "Hawk," which, so far as we know at present, is the last.

OUT AT NIGHT.-Fathers and mothers, look out for your boys when the shades of evening have gathered around you! Where are they then? Are they at home, at the pleasant, social fireside, or are they running the streets? Are they gaining a street education? If so, take care; the chances of their ruin are many. There is scarcely anything more destructive to their morals than running abroad at night. Under cover of darkness they acquire the

education of crime; they learn to be rowdyish, if not absolutely vicious; they catch up loose talk, they hear sinful thoughts, they see obscene things, they become reckless and riotous. If you would save them from vulgarity, save them from ruin, save them from prison, see to it that night finds them at home. Let parents solemnly ponder this matter, and do all they can to make home attractive for all the children--so attractive that the boys will prefer it to roaming the streets. There is no place like home in more senses than one. certainly no place like home for boys in the evening.

THE WIND AS A MUSICIAN.-The wind is a musician by birth. We extend a silken thread in the crevice of a window, and the wind finds it and sings over it, and goes up and down the scale upon it, and Paganini must go somewhere else for honour, for lo! the wind is performing on a single string. It tries almost everything on earth to see if there is music in it-it persuades a tune out of the great bell in the tower, when the sexton is at home asleep; it makes a mournful harp of the giant pines, and it does not disdain to try what sort of a whistle can be made out of the humblest chimney in the world. How it will play upon a tree until every leaf thrills with a note on it, whilst a river runs at its base in a sort of murmuring accompaniment! And what a melody it sings when it gives concert with a full choir of the waves of the sea, and performs an anthem between the two worlds, that goes up, perhaps to the stars, which love music most, and sang it first! Then, how fondly it haunts old houses, mourning under eaves, singing in the halls, opening doors without fingers, and singing a measure of some sad old song around the fireless and deserted hearths!

initials. Any communication for the Editor may be addressed "Care of Mr. Alger, 265, Strand." PROSE declined, with thanks.-"A Leap for Life;" "Court Tree Fair;" "The Black Banditti" (too overdrawn and horribly repulsive for our pages).

ERRATUM. In an article entitled "Lunar Observations", in the last month's magazine, a mistake has been made in the use of the Irish word PISHOGUE. The friend whose information we referred to in that article has kindly set us right upon the subject. She says pishogue does not mean "the witch :" it means the spell, or charm itself." Thus we say, if a person is superstitious, "Oh, don't mind her; is always going on with 'pishogues.' It is a pleasure to be set right oneself, and a duty to set others right, and we tender "K. M." (the "Eliza beth Townbridge" of our pages) our warmest thanks.

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MSS.-All manuscripts intrusted to us shall be carefully read, and, if not suitable, returned to the writer, on the receipt of postage-stamps for the

purpose.