IT HARPUR'S REMORSE ON BEING CHARGED WITH HIS INGRATITUDE TO HIS FRIEND. COALS OF FIRE. is a Scriptural expression; you will find it in connection with what seems a strange and unintelligible declaration in one of Paul's epistles. A little narrative will make the apostle's reasoning clear, and may possibly be of some practical benefit to you, reader, to-day. If you have no opportunity of testing it just at present, treasure it up: it is more than probable, a thousand to one at least, that such a time will come. in every man's history which are guarded with jealousy from the prying curiosity of friends, neighbors, and acquaintances. There are also, in the history of most men's lives, occurrences, not altogether secret and hidden, but the memory of which inflicts many a sharp pang, and whose memorials are gladly consigned to oblivion. There is a false shame, too, which sometimes causes us to blush more deeply at the remembrance of some byIt has been said that there are secrets gone innocent but unfortunate contre temps, than at the consciousness of more glaring faults and misdoings. Abraham Reid was not without this weakness. He was susceptible of ridicule; and perhaps there were few men who had, in the course of their lives, less exposed themselves to the assaults of this terrible bugbear than he. But there was one weak and assailable point in his history, which he would gladly have blotted out if he could. It was a painful reminiscence of a matrimonial disappointment, which had tinged his life with a shade of sobriety, if not of melancholy; but which, notwithstanding this, was attended by circumstances which he fancied were supremely ridiculous. Happily for his peace of mind, these circumstances were but little known; and, exercising the wise discretion of authorcraft, we do not intend to reveal them. But neither were they altogether unknown. One confidante, and only one, apart from his faithful and sympathizing sister, shared in the knowledge; and that one was his once friend, whom he had rescued from ignominy and loaded with benefits-Charles Harpur. "Capital, capital! That will do famously. But, I say, rather sharp upon poor Reid, too, isn't it?" "O! all fair at election time, you know. It will take, then, you think?" "Of course it will; we'll have it printed to-day. By the way, who wrote it?" "Harpur. Really a clever fellow that." "Clever, and not over-scrupulous. Now, if I were in Harpur's place, I would as soon have had my fingers cut off, as have written that on paper." "Really, you don't say so! Why ?" "Why! why there is not another man who has done so much for Harpur as Reid has. He was the making of him, that's all." "Ah! well, that was a long time ago, I suppose. They have been no very great cronies lately, and there seems to be a hitch somewhere. Harpur tells me that Reid insulted him once in some money transactions, and wanted to crow over him about some old grievance or another, and now he means to take it out of him.' So, of course, if he likes to do it, 'tis nothing to anybody else; and this will tell. I shouldn't wonder at its driving Reid off the field; for he won't like being made a laughing-stock." "We'll have it printed by all means; but, I say, this is a funny affair, this courtship. I never heard of it before. Is there any truth in it?" "As true as can be, Harpur says; and he knew all about it at the time. But true or not, it does not matter; for you see, if it isn't true, why, then, 'tis another Abraham that's meant, that's all." Now this, or some such conversation, passed between two active committeemen on the eve of an important election at which Reid was a candidate; and the next day, among other electioneering papers, and placards, and squibs of various kinds, which were plentifully fired off, and scattered, and posted, was a witty brochure, entitled, "Abraham's Courtship; or, Many a Slip 'tween the Cup and the Lip." What Abraham's courtship had to do with the election, or that it could have nothing to do with it, was a matter of little consequence. The story, distorted and ridiculously caricatured, served the purpose of raising a laugh against a staunch opponent, and this was just what was intended; for, gross as was the libel, there was no mistaking for whom it was intended; and it was too nice a tit-bit of scandal to be disregarded. Our friend Abraham, however, was for a time happily unconscious of the shaft which had been aimed at his reputation for wisdom and gravity, and was at a loss to interpret some distant allusions which reached his ears, and merry smiles which met his eyes. But at last a friend put into his hand the obnoxious paper. He knew at once the quiver whence that shaft had been taken, and the hand that had aimed it; and, with a bitter exclamation, he folded the Hudibrastic satire, and, with a trembling hand, placed it in his pocket-book. "He shall repent this, if he lives and I live," he said; "the ingrate! the traitor!" speedy revenge in kind by directing one gleam from the lamp of truth to a dark niche in the history of the past? Was not Charles Harpur afraid of its being known the next day, through all Mudborough, how few steps there had once been between him and black ruin? Did he not consider how ill past delinquencies would couple and comport with the credit of his present commercial position? Well, it is not unlikely that he had considered this, and was not at all afraid. There is an old sentence written in an old book, dear reader, and written elsewhere too, if we are not mistaken: "The righteous is more excellent than his neighbor." There is a world of truth here, reader; and you know it. Charles Harper knew it, at all events; and while violating the sanctity of confidence and friendship, he felt perfectly at ease in the conviction that his secret was firmly locked in the bosom of his former friend. "He won't retort upon me; he won't betray me; I know he won't. It would be against his principles to do it." Verily, "the righteous is more excellent than his neighbor ;" and his neighbor knows it. "I do call him enemy -a bitter, cold, unfeeling, malicious, calculating, calumniating enemy." “Love your enemies,' then, dear brother; these are not my words, you know; 'do good to them that hate you;' though, after all, I do not believe that Mr. Harpur can hate you." "I verily believe he does, Clara; there are some men that seem to take in a fresh stock of dislike for every benefit they receive; and what can you do with such people?" 666 Be not overcome with evil; but overcome evil with good;' and these, again, are not my words." "It is very hard, sister; I really believe I could have done almost anything for that man once." "You don't do yourself justice, Abraham; you would do anything in reason and prudence and justice to-morrow, if need were, and you had the opportunity. And, after all, dear brother, you take this too much to heart. What harm can these silly, nonsensical verses do you? Isn't it a good thing they have nothing worse to lay to your charge?" "What harm! Why, they won't break my bones, of course; but you should have "I am afraid I shall never be able to been with me this evening, Clara, as I was forgive him." It was the third time that coming home, and heard what I heard from evening the evening after the election a pack of half-drunken wretches that stopwas over, as our readers may remember-ped up the road, and wouldn't let me pass that Abrabam Reid had uttered these till they had shouted that fellow's doggrel words: "no, I think I never can.' in my ears." "Yes, you will, Abraham," said his sister, with a kindly smile; "it is unkind, treacherous, wicked; but for all that you will forgive him.” "But, Clara, you do not know how it wounds me. If it were anybody else, I could bear it. But to think, after all that has passed between us, that he-he -should sport with my feelings in this way, and turn my very sorrows into a jest, and expose my weaknesses; it is too bad." "How oft shall my brother trespass against me, and I forgive him?" Clara quoted these words again, and took Abraham's hand, and looked mildly in his face, in her calm and peaceful way. "Brother!" exclaimed Mr. Reid, passionately: "my brother! a pretty brother Charles Harpur has proved himself!" "Call him enemy, then, dear Abraham; and what follows?" "Firm as a bank, perhaps-yes. Stopped payment, though, for all that. I hope you are not in there." "No, luckily enough, I owe him something; not much, however: but how has it come about?" "Overtrading, I fancy. He would do business, and struck out beyond his means: that's one thing. But I fancy Dobson's bankruptcy gave Harpur the last shake. There are bills floating about between them to a heavyish amount, and Harpur knew he could not take them up; so he has not waited for that upshot, but after trying to get accommodation at the banks, and not succeeding, he made up his mind to stop at once." "As well so, perhaps, as anyhow: poor fellow, I am sorry for him, too. A clever fellow, and the right stripe. It will be a loss to our side, mind you.' "O, I don't know; he was more talk than do. By the way, you remember that squib of his, 'Many a Slip 'tween the Cup and the Lip.' "To be sure I do. Ah! didn't it make poor Abraham wince a bit? This will be a nut for Reid to crack. I heard that he threatened to be revenged on Harpur some day or other." "He may take his revenge now, then. I fancy Harpur wishes his hand had been chopped off before he had written that nonsense." "If he had he wouldn't have written it afterward, I suppose; but why? I was told that Harpur bragged that he did not owe Reid anything, and would take care not." Humph! people don't always know their creditors when they see them. Reid is one of the largest creditors, as it happens." "Indeed! why, how can that be?" "Easily enough; and none of Harpur's doings, either. The fact is, Dobson's acceptances had got into Reid's hands in the regular way of business, before the bankruptcy; and now, of course, Reid holds them against Harpur. "Tis as plain as A, B, C." "I see. Poor Harpur! it will go hard with him then, I am afraid. A wife and family too." A few weeks later, with leaden footsteps and downcast countenance, Charles Harpur entered the counting-house of his VOL. XI.-38 No answer. Mr. Reid was busily look ing into his pocket-book. He at length found what he was in search of, and handed it to Harpur: "Abraham's Courtship; or, 'Many a Slip 'tween the Cup and the Lip."" "Do you know the author of that, sir?" he asked. "You won't trample on a fallen foe," said the bankrupt, beseechingly. "You said I should repent writing that, and from my heart and soul I do. It was ungrateful, treacherous, and wicked; but you will not carry revenge beyond bounds. You surely are revenged enough already." "I never threatened revenge, Charles, and neither sought it nor wished for it. I did think and fear that I never could forgive you; but that thought and fear have passed away. But your repentance is not deep enough." He dipped his pen in ink, and signed the paper. "Thanks, Mr. Reid; thanks for that. I scarcely dared expect it." "I shall never, I hope, allow private resentment to influence public duty," said Abraham; "you may have acted a little imprudently, but not dishonestly or dishonorably. So you owe me no especial thanks. And now, Charles, what are you going to do ?" The cloud of despondency returned. He hoped he should be able to commence business again in a small way, Harpur said; but his friends looked coldly upon him. "And your wife and family, Charleshow are they now provided for ?" The poor bankrupt burst into tears. We will not retail the conversation that followed. Harpur shortly afterward left the counting-house, agitated with conflicting emotions. A change had passed over his spirits and his prospects. Hope was rising upon him, but his heart was burdened. "Coals of fire!" he muttered to himself; "if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire upon his head.' 'Coals of fire!' I never knew the meaning of that till now." has access to the leaves of the spicewood, which constitute its favorite and probably its exclusive nourishment, it feeds voraciously, and grows rapidly. It moults four or five times, and after each change exhibits a notable increase in size, and in the depth of its coloring. When it has attained the maturity of its development, it THE SPICEWOOD MOTH-ITS WORKS presents itself as a large and magnificent AND WAYS. THE HE Spicewood Moth is not distinguished, like its generic associate, the silk-moth, for the fabrication of a product tributary to the convenience and luxury of man. It is remarkable, however, for the singular instinct which it displays in the construction and disposition of its cocoon; while it exhibits all those latent features of interest which are appreciable only by the zealous student of nature. Peale, in his Lepidoptera Americana, has given a very interesting account of this insect, but the materials of the following brief essay are chiefly drawn from my own observations. The eggs of the spicewood moth, to begin in my stereotyped fashion, are lenticular in form, and concave upon each side. They are of a dull white color, except the lateral dimples, which are filled with a dark matter, which, though originally soft, soon becomes concrete and hard. Their greatest measurement is rather more than a line. They are deposited in little clusters or groups, which vary in the number of eggs composing them. They adhere with considerable tenacity to each other, and the surface upon which they lie. These clusters present a somewhat regular and symmetrical aspect, the eggs being usually arranged in rectilinear rows. The shell of the egg is somewhat firm, but it may be broken with a moderate force, and if this be done soon after the extension of the egg, it gives exit to an opaque yellowish liquid. I have not ascertained with exactness the number of eggs laid by a single female. It is probably not so large as that which has been stated for the silk-moth, some time ago. I examined the abdominal cavity of a female moth, which died just before laying its eggs, and carefully counted all that I found in its body. They numbered one hundred and sixty-nine. The eggs are laid in the months of May and June. The larva, upon leaving the egg, is about one tenth of an inch in length. When it | caterpillar, two inches in length, and one third of an inch in thickness. It is a fine green hue, except the head, which is brown, and six cornua or projections, four of which are red, and the remaining two yellow. The red cornua are placed upon the anterior portion of the body, and the yellow ones upon one of the terminal segments. The larva spins it cocoon in the month of September. Having ceased to eat, it looks around, as if engaged in reconnoitering. Selecting a perfect leaf, it covers its upper surface with a fine light yellowish brown silk. It then extends this silky coating along the footstalk of the leaf, and also for a considerable distance along the branch to which the leaf is attached. As if aware that the leaf is deciduous, and destined soon to fall, it provides against the event, by securing its cocoon to the durable branch. What a beautiful display of instinct! The larva next draws the edges of the leaf together, and fastens them with threads of silk. Having formed this outer covering, it then proceeds to form its cocoon within it. By means of the spinning apparatus situated near its mouth it fabricates its fine silken fibrils, which it draws out and attaches at different points. The threads which are first formed, constituting the exterior portion of the cocoon, are loose and disconnected, but as the operation advances in the inward direction, they are made to cohere with great firm ness. At first, soft, placid, and easily detached, the several parts of the cocoon became, when dry, exceedingly tough and tenacious. The leaf upon the outside turns brown, and ultimately white, and usually falls partially or entirely to the ground. The whole operation of spinning the cocoon occupies from twelve to twentyfour hours, and no one can witness it without interest. About two years ago I was an amused spectator of the process, having obtained a caterpillar, just after commencing to spin, which I placed in a glass jar, where its movements could be observed with perfect facility. |