I.
A gentleman once, with his children and wife,
Fled away from a town that was burning,
By command of a friend, who added that life
Must depend on their never back turning.
The lady, alas! like her grandmother Eve,
With a longing for knowledge is curst:
She turns to behold—it is hard to believe—
And is pillared straightway in my first.
II.
An elderly female in gorgeous array
Promenades in the streets of Verona;
She is seeking a heart, which has wandered astray,
To the serious loss of its owner.
Her heart is all safe; but her sense of her charms
Is still great—for what woman e'er lost it?—
So my second precedes her t'allay her alarms,
And to speak in her stead if accosted.
III.
The battle's done; the chieftain's in his tent,
And glories in the victory he has won.
He dreams of plaudits by his sovereign sent—
When, lo! appears a curled perfumed one,
Who claims to be the herald from the King;
Who prates of war, though ne'er a squadron led;
And says but for my whole—the villainous thing—
He too had worn a helmet on his head.
How Salt was formerly Made.—The art of making salt was known in very early times to the Gauls and the Germans. The process was very simple, for they did nothing more than throw the salt-water on burning wood, where it evaporated, and left the salt adhering to the ashes or charcoal. The ancient Britons probably extracted the salt by the same method, for in the Cheshire salt-springs pieces of half-burned wood have been frequently dug up. The Romans made salt a source of revenue six hundred and forty years before the birth of Christ. Part of the pay of the Roman soldiers was made in salt, which was thus called salarium, whence we derive the word "salary."