upon the quantity of their food; but it is probable they do not become of the largest size from the smallest in one or even two seasons; but this, as well as many other particulars, can only be ascertained by new observations and experiments.  Block states, that they grow slowly, and mentions that some had been kept in the same pond for fifteen years.  As very large eels, after having migrated, never return to the river again, they must (for it cannot be supposed that they all die immediately in the sea) remain in salt water; and there is great probability that they are then confounded with the conger, which is found from a few ounces to one hundred pounds in weight.

* * * * *

At Munich, every child found begging is taken to a charitable establishment; the moment he enters his portrait is given to him, representing him in his rags, and he promises by oath to keep it all his life.

* * * * *

INFANCY.

[This is one of the gems of the quarto volume of poetry recently published by the author of the “Omnipresence of the Deity;” but in our next we intend stringing together a few of the resplendent beauties which illumine almost every page.]

  On yonder mead, that like a windless lake
  Shines in the glow of heaven, a cherub boy
  Is bounding, playful as a breeze new-born,
  Light as the beam that dances by his side. 
  Phantom of beauty! with his trepid locks
  Gleaming like water-wreaths,—­a flower of life,
  To whom the fairy world is fresh, the sky
  A glory, and the earth one huge delight! 
  Joy shaped his brow, and Pleasure rolls his eye,
  While Innocence, from out the budding lip
  Darts her young smiles along his rounded cheek. 
  Grief hath not dimm’d the brightness of his form,
  Love and Affection o’er him spread their wings,
  And Nature, like a nurse, attends him with
  Her sweetest looks.  The humming bee will bound
  From out the flower, nor sting his baby hand;
  The birds sing to him from the sunny tree;
  And suppliantly the fierce-eyed mastiff fawn
  Beneath his feet, to court the playful touch.

  To rise all rosy from the arms of sleep,
  And, like the sky-bird, hail the bright-cheek’d morn
  With gleeful song, then o’er the bladed mead
  To chase the blue-wing’d butterfly, or play
  With curly streams; or, led by watchful Love,
  To hear the chorus of the trooping waves,
  When the young breezes laugh them into life! 
  Or listen to the mimic ocean roar
  Within the womb of spiry sea-shell wove,—­
  From sight and sound to catch intense delight,
  And infant gladness from each happy face,—­
  These are the guileless duties of the day: 
  And when at length reposeful Evening comes,
  Joy-worn he nestles in the welcome couch,
  With kisses warm upon his cheek, to dream
  Of heaven, till morning wakes him to the world.