Scott, at work with his two sons. The savages managed to steal very closely upon their victims before they were discovered, and succeeded in capturing the old gentleman, but the boys escaped. Mr. Scott was, however, forced to recall his sons, or, on pain of refusing to do so, was threatened with instant death. They were all taken to Canada.

The father and his eldest son were afterward redeemed, and returned home, but the youngest is said to have become so attached to the wild and adventurous life of the Indians that he refused to leave them. Another attack was made by the Indians in 1710. As early as 1700 the inhabitants voted to fortify Ensign Stanley's house, which stood upon the south side of the present Center Square, near the residence of the Hon. Green Kendrick.

"In June, 1708, the state gave the town fifteen

pounds toward aiding in the construction of forts; and the town agreed to build three forts, two at the expense of the state and one at its own. Three houses were selected for that purpose. They were accordingly fortified by stockades or timbers set up endwise firmly in the ground, with an opening for a gate to pass and repass. Frail as was this defense to any enemy but a savage, the inhabitants were glad for years to avail themselves of the nightly protection which these feeble fortifications afforded."

Thus the fathers of the place became a martial people. The highest deference seems to have been paid to military titles, with which the records of that period

abound.

"The drum was then an important instrument; it sounded the alarm in times of danger;

it summoned the inhabitants to the fortified houses at night, and roused them from their slumbers in the morning. It also gave the signal for firing the woods to increase the food for the cattle, and to call the inhabitants to their devotions upon the Sabbath."

We learn from the following that the settlers of Waterbury experienced a fearful calamity, in the early period of the history of this little colony, which, in addition to the frequently harassing position of the Indians and the numerous trials attending upon all new settlements, would appear to have been sufficient to discourage them from making further efforts, and, indeed, to induce them to abandon entirely their undertaking. We are told that

"In February, 1691, the alluvial lands bordering the Naugatuck, upon which was their chief dependence, were almost entirely ruined by a flood. The river, by rains and melting of the snows, rose to a prodigious height, far beyond any instance of the kind since known, washing away the soil in many places, and covering the remainder with gravel and stones to a degree that rendered it unfit for immediate use. weather had been previously warm, the frost came out of the ground, leaving the arable part an easy prey to the raging element."

The

Surely here was sufficient in itself to have disheartened any but the indomitable fathers of New England: they saw their chief means of support, and that upon which they had most depended at the commencement of their little settlement here, for the

time entirely cut off. Although the colony

seems to have diminished in numbers after this calamity, yet the courage of the greater portion appears to have held out; but we find that in 1709 the population varies little from what it was in 1691, at the period of this severe inundation. Again we find, in 1712, the inhabitants suffering from another terrible calamity.

"The town was visited by a great and mortal sickness, which raged without abatement until September, 1713. During its prevalence the number of well persons were insufficient to provide for and attend the sick and bury the dead. About thirty individuals died of the fever, and this out of a population of about two hundred."

Many anecdotes are related to show the poverty of Waterbury previous to the suc

cessful prosecution of manufactures. A gentleman still living, who for many years practiced law in an adjoining town, tells an ingenious method which he devised for collecting debts from parties residing here. He used to put his executions into the hands of a negligent deputy sheriff, and wait very quietly until the day of service had passed, and then sue the sheriff's bondsman for the debt. In this way he generally managed to collect his claims, but the sheriff, who resided in another town and had a very pretty property, was entirely ruined by his official business.

One individual residing in Waterbury is said to have papered his house (probably not a very large one) with writs and various processes of law which had been served on him from time to time.

Hollister, in his "History of Connecticut," says:

"Indeed, for many years, and until the commencement of the present century, Waterbury was not thought to be a town that could offer any very strong inducements to those who were seeking a favorable situation for a permanent abode.

"But a change has come over the aspect of the place, that reminds us of the transformations that we find in the tales of Arabian enchantment. The river, once so destructive to those who dwelt upon its banks, though sometimes even now in its gamesome moods it loses all its self-control and deluges the lands and houses of the inhabitants, is no longer the instrument of destruction to them, but is, notwithstanding its lively looks and the racy joyousness of its motions, their common drudge and plodding laborer in all departments of their manifold enterprises. The difference between the twentyeight families of Mattatuck flying from the meager settlement where poverty, inundation, and disease threatened their extermination, and the young city of Waterbury with its stone church towers, its rich mansions, its manufactories, and its population that is now numbered by thousands, affords to a reflective mind a practical illustration, scarcely equaled upon the prairies of the West, of the self-renewing vigor and boundless exuberance of health that characterizes the blood of the old pioneers of New England.

"The Naugatuck Valley, but a few years ago unknown, almost unexplored even by the citizens of Hartford and New Haven, is now one of the most interesting and busy thoroughfares in New England."

The Cemetery of Riverside is beautifully situated upon the bank of the Naugatuck River, at a short distance from Waterbury. We present several engravings, but in our next number we shall give further illustrations of this cemetery, as well as some account of it in detail.

*

FIRST GRIEF.

THEY tell me, first and early love
Outlives all after dreams;

But the memory of a first great grief
To me more lasting seems.

The grief that marks our dawning youth
To memory ever clings;
And o'er the path of future years

A lengthen'd shadow flings.
O! oft my mind recalls the hour
When to my father's home
Death came, an uninvited guest,

From his dwelling in the tomb:
I had not seen his face before;
I shudder'd at the sight;
And I shudder yet to think upon

The anguish of that night!

A youthful brow and ruddy cheek
Became all cold and wan;

An eye grew dim in which the light

Of radiant fancy shone;

Cold was the cheek and cold the brow,
The eye was fix'd and dim;
And one there mourn'd a brother dead,
Who would have died for him!

I know not if 'twas summer then,
I know not if 'twas spring;
But if the birds sang in the trees,
I did not hear them sing;

If flowers came forth to deck the earth,
Their bloom I did not see;

I look'd upon one wither'd flower,
And none else bloom'd for me!
A sad and silent time it was

Within that house of woe;
All eyes were dim and overcast,
And every voice was low;
And from each cheek, at intervals,
The blood appear'd to start,
As if recall'd in sudden haste
To aid the sinking heart.

Softly we trod, as if afraid

To mar the sleeper's sleep,
And stole last looks of his sad face
For memory to keep.

With him the agony was o'er,

And now the pain was ours, As thoughts of his sweet childhood rose, Like odor from dead flowers! And when at last he was borne afar

From the world's weary strife,
How oft in thought did we again
Live o'er his little life.

His every look, his every word,
His very voice's tone,

Came back to us like things whose worth
Is only prized when gone!

That grief has pass'd with years away,
And joy has been my lot;

But the one is long remember'd,
And the other soon forgot!

The gayest hours trip lightly by,

And leave the faintest trace; But the deep, deep track that sorrow wears No time can e'er efface!

to the sea-shore and feeds on crabs and shell-fish. Gemelli Carreri says:

"There is a kind of oysters that weigh several pounds, and which lie open upon the shore; but the monkey, fearing lest, in trying to get them out, his paw might be caught in the closing shell, throws in a stone and then devours the fish at his leisure."

He makes a kind of hammock in the trees, where he sleeps every night and rises with the sun.

The Indians capture them and put them to domestic service. Schouten says:

"They take them in snares, tame them, teach them to walk upon their hind feet, and to use their hands in doing various kinds of labor, such as rinsing the glasses, bringing a drink, turning the spit, etc.'

François Leguat tells of a very extraordinary specimen which he saw at Java.

He says:

"She was tall, and frequently walked very erect on her hind feet. Her face had no hairs but the eyebrows, and she very much resembled in general appearance the grotesque forms of the Hottentots seen at the Cape of Good Hope. She made her own bed properly every day, and in lying down she placed her head on the pillow and drew the covering over herself."

The Chimpanzee is another genus of the same order as the Orang Outang, from which it differs by having larger ears, slightly movable at will, by the crested eyebrows, which are lacking in the Orang, and by very short arms which scarcely reach the thigh.

On first observing the Chimpanzee every one is struck by its great resemblance to man, not only in its form, but in its gestures, actions, and some of its habits. The different names which it has received all express the same idea. One of these is Pongo, a word by which the negroes designate a grand fetich; in Angola it is Cojas Morros, or Man of the Woods; in Congo it is Eujoko, which means Be silent. The origin of this name may be accounted for when it is known that the negroes of Congo believed that the only reason why the Chimpanzee does not talk, is because he will not, through fear that he will be reduced to slavery and obliged to labor. But all these names are only epithets that accompany the true name Chimpanzee, by which it is known to all the natives of the coast of Guinea.

A few years since a young female of this species, named Jacqueline, was brought

to the Jardin des Plantes in Paris. She was gentle, good, and affectionate, recognizing and caressing all those who were in the habit of visiting her. When crossed in her wishes she sobbed like a child, and retiring into a corner, she would pout for some minutes. But her childish anger yielded to the slightest advances of friendship; she immediately dried her tears, and returned without rancor to those who had annoyed her.

Mr.

A friend who accompanied me took off his gloves and laid them on the table. Immediately Jacqueline took them up and tried to put them on, but could not because she was trying the right hand glove upon the left hand. She was shown her mistake, and comprehended it so well that she never made the same mistake again, though the experiment was repeatedly tried. Werner, an excellent painter in natural history, was engaged to take her portrait. Jacqueline was so astonished to see her image traced by the pencil of this skillful artist that she must needs practice designing also. A paper and pencil were given her, and gravely seated at the master's table, she drew some zig-zag lines with great pleasure. As she bore on with all her might the point of the pencil broke, much to her annoyance. To appease her it was again sharpened, and, corrected by experience, she afterward carried a lighter hand.

She saw the designer put his pencil to his mouth, and she did the same, only, instead of being content with moistening the point, she bit it off. It was quite impossible to prevent this, and it caused such serious inconvenience as to put an end to her artistic studies. She tried to sew in imitation of the woman who attended her, but she inevitably pricked her fingers every time; then she threw down the work and jumped upon a rope that was stretched for her, and to console herself under her misfortunes she went through performances that would pale the cheek of the most hardy rope-dancer.

Jacqueline had a dog and a cat, of which she was quite fond. She petted them so far as to make them sleep with her, one on each side; but still she knew how to maintain over them the authority of superior intelligence, and when she judged proper she chastised them severely to reduce them to obedience or to oblige them to live in peace with each other.

Poor Jacqueline was in the habit of

washing her face and hands every morning with cold water, and these ablutions, joined to the rigors of a climate so different from that of Africa, probably brought on the pulmonary consumption, of which she eventually died. Jack, the Orang Outang, whose place she filled in the menagerie, and the Chimpanzees which lived there in the times of Buffon and the Empress Josephine, died of the same complaint.

Although naturalists of the present day only assign to this animal the height of two or two and a half feet, yet it must be because they have only seen young specimens. They certainly must attain the height of four or five feet, and perhaps more, or else none of the wonders that travelers relate of them could be true. When Jacqueline was taken she was quite young, and was still carried in her mother's arms, yet she was two and a half feet high.

Three hundred and thirty-six years before the Christian era the Carthaginians, under Hanno, landed upon an island east of Africa. They found an immense troop of monkeys, and taking them for enemies, they attacked them. These animals made no stand on the open plain, but retreated quickly to the rocks, where they defended themselves valiantly by throwing stones. Three females only were captured, and these fought with so much desperation that they could not be taken alive. Hanno, who thought them wild hairy women, had them skinned and took the pelts to Carthage. They were deposited in the temple of Juno, where the Romans found them, at the conquest of that city, two centuries afterward.

It is more than probable that all the stories that the ancients have handed down to us about the satyrs, fawns, sylvans, and other divinities of the wood, have taken their origin in the imperfectly known history of this animal. The satyr skin which St. Augustine is said to have seen at Rome, certainly belonged to one of these animals.

The Chimpanzee has a flat tawny face destitute of hair, as are also the ears, the hands, and the breast. The rest of the body is covered thinly with rough black or brown hair, excepting the head, where it is thick and long, falling down the back.

JACQUELINE DRAWING.

| It walks about with more facility than the Orang Outang, because the muscles of its calves and thighs are much better developed. This animal, which is only found on the shores of Congo and Guinea, has a grave demeanor and measured movements.

From all these considerations, Brooks, in his "System of Natural History," placed man in the class of monkeys. The Prince of Wales having reproached him in very strong terms, the naturalist replied: "My lord, I yield to the force of your objections, and, to oblige you, will change my arrangement: I will place the monkey in the class with man."

In a domesticated state the Chimpanzee shows the same docility as the Orang, but more intelligence. Buffon says:

"I have seen this animal offer his hand to welcome visitors, and gravely promenade with them as one of the company. I have seen him seat himself at the table, unfold his napkin, wipe his lips with it; use a fork and spoon in feeding himself; pour his own drink into a glass; take a cup and saucer, carry them to the table, put in sugar, pour in the tea, and refresh himself by drinking it; and all this without any other instigation than signs or a word from his master; and he often did it of his own accord. He loved bon bons prodigiously, drank wine in small quantities, and milk, tea, and other sweet liquors."

In slavery, the Chimpanzee, according to the accounts of travelers, can perform as many services as a negro. At Loango there was a female that would bring water in a pitcher from the fountain and wood from the forest; she would sweep, make the beds, turn the spit, etc. She fell sick, and a surgeon bled her, which saved her life. Once afterward, being taken sick, she went to the same surgeon, and, stretch