The artist turned over one of his sheets, and showed the farmer the drawing of his much-praised plough, saying with a smile, “I am the inventor of your favorite plough, and my name is——.”
The astonished farmer shook the artist heartily by the hand; and invited him to call at the farm-house, and make it his home as long as he liked.
The Chevalier Bayard was a distinguished French warrior. He was mortally wounded in a battle at Marignan. He ordered his attendant to place him against a tree, with his face to the enemy. While in this situation, the constable of Bourbon, who was fighting against his country, came up to him and expressed his regret that his wounds were mortal. “Do not pity me,” said the dying Chevalier; “it is not I who am to be pitied, but you, who are bearing arms against your king, your country and your oath.” This brave and good man died in the year 1524, aged fifty years.
Superstitions. In the country villages in England, there are many superstitions. Thousands believe that the howling of a dog denotes death; that pigs can see the wind; to put on your stocking wrong side out, is a sign of good luck; and bubbles in your tea tell that you will be rich; when your cheek burns, some one is supposed to be talking of you; when your ears glow, they are telling falsehoods about you; if your nose itches, you will be vexed; if your right eye itches, you will have good luck; should your left itch, it will be bad. It is unlucky to meet a person who squints; if you meet one magpie, it denotes sorrow; two, brings luck; three, a wedding; and four, death. To spill salt is to bring sorrow upon yourself; and horse shoes are nailed at the thresholds of doors to keep out the witch. To lend a friend a knife or scizzors is to cut friendship.
The Cicada. This insect, so greatly praised by the ancients, appears to have been a kind of grasshopper. “Sweet prophet of the summer,” says Anacreon, addressing it, “the muses love thee, Phœbus himself loves thee, and has given thee a shrill song;—thou art wise, earthborn, musical, impassive, without blood—thou art almost like a God!” So attached were the Athenians to these insects, that they used to fasten golden images of them in their hair. They were regarded, indeed, by all as the happiest, as well as the most innocent of creatures. The sound of this insect and of the harp were called by one and the same name. There is a story among the ancients, of two rival musicians, who were striving to excel each other on the harp, when one of them unfortunately broke a string; a cicada at that moment flew upon the instrument, and supplying the place of the string, secured to him the victory. A cicada sitting upon a harp, was therefore the usual emblem of the science of music among the ancients.
