nately for them it had a character different from that of a desert. So far from this, it more resembled a grand garden, or orchard, laid for a time under inundation.

Many kinds of fruits were met with, — strange kinds that had never been seen by them before; and upon some of these they subsisted. The Mundurucú alone knew them, could tell which were to be eaten and which avoided. Birds, too, came in their way, all eaten by the Indians, as also various species of arboreal quadrupeds and quadrumana. The killing and capturing of these, with the gathering of nuts and fruits to supply their simple larder, afforded them frequent opportunities of amusement, that did much to beguile the tediousness of their trackless straying. Otherwise it would have been insupportable; otherwise they would have starved.

None of them afterwards was ever able to tell how long this Gypsy life continued, how long they were afloat in the forest. Engrossed with the thought of getting out of it, they took no note of time, nor made registry of the number of suns that rose and set upon their tortuous wanderings. There were days in which they saw not the sun, hidden from their sight by the umbrageous canopy of gigantic trees, amidst the trunks of which, and under their deep shadows, they rowed the igarité.

But if not known how long they roamed through this wilderness, much less can it be told how long they might have remained within its mazes, but for a heaven-sent vision that one morning broke upon their eyes as their canoe shot out into a stretch of open water.

They saw a ship, a ship sailing through the forest!

True, it was not a grand ship of the ocean, a seventy-four, a frigate, or a trader of a thousand tons; nevertheless it was a ship, in the general acceptation of the term, with hull, masts, spars, sails, and rigging. It was a twomasted schooner, a trader of the Solimoës.

The old tapuyo knew it at a glance, and hailed it with a cheer. He knew the character of the craft. In such he had spent some of the best years of his life, himself one of the crew. Its presence was proof that they were once more upon their way, as the schooner was upon hers.

"Going down," said the tapuyo, "going down to Gran Pará. I can tell by the way she is laden. Look yonder. Sarsaparilla, Vanilla, Cascarilla, all will be found under Maulega de Tortugos, Sapucoy, and Tonka beans, that toldo of palm-leaves. Galliota ahoy! ahoy!" The schooner was within short hailing distance. "Lay to, and take passengers aboard! We want to go to Pará. Our craft is n't suited for such a long voyage."

The galliota answered the hail, and in ten minutes after the crew of the igarité was transferred to her decks. The canoe was abandoned, while the schooner continued on to the city of Gran Pará. She was not in the Solimoës itself, but one of its parallel branches, though, in two days after having taken the castaways aboard, she sailed out into the main stream, and thence glided merrily downward.

Those aboard of her were not the less gay,

- the crew on discovering

that among the passengers that they had picked up were the son and brother of their patron; and the passengers, that the craft that was carrying them to Gran Pará, as well as her cargo, was the property of Trevannion. The young Paraense found himself on board one of his father's traders, while the ex-miner was completing his Amazonian voyage in a "bottom" belonging to his brother.

The tender attention which they received from the capatos of the galliota restored their health and spirits, both sadly shattered in the Gapo; and instead of the robber's garb and savage mien with which they emerged from that sombre abode, fit only for the abiding-place of beasts, birds, and reptiles, they soon recovered the cheerful looks and decent habiliments that befitted them for a return to civilization.

A few words will tell the rest of this story.

The brothers, once more united, — each the owner of a son and daughter, - returned to their native land. Both widowers, they agreed to share the same roof, that under which they had been born. The legal usurper

could no longer keep them out of it. He was dead.

He had left behind him an only son, not a gentleman like himself, but a spendthrift. It ended in the ill-gotten patrimony coming once more into the market and under the hammer, the two Trevannions arriving just in time to arrest its descent upon the desk, and turn the "going, going" into "gone" in their own favor.

Though the estate became afterwards divided into two equal portions, as nearly equal as the valuer could allot them, and under separate owners, still was there no change in the name of the property; still was it the Trevannion estate. The owner of each moiety was a Trevannion, and the wife of each owner was a Trevannion, without ever having changed her name. There is no puzzle in this. The young Paraense had a sister,spoken of, but much neglected, in this eventful narrative, where not even her name has been made known. Only has it been stated that she was one of "several sweet children."

Be it now known that she grew up to be a beautiful woman, fair-haired, like her mother, and that her name was Florence. Much as her brother Richard, also fair-haired, came to love her dark semi-Spanish cousin Rosita, so did her other dark semi-Spanish cousin, Ralph, come to love her; and as both she and Rosita reciprocated these cousinly loves, it ended in a mutual bestowing of sisters, or a sort of cross-hands and change-partners game of cousins, whichever way you like to have it.

At all events, the Trevannion estates remained, and still remain, in the keeping of Trevannions.

Were you to take a trip to the "Land's End," and visit them, — supposing yourself to be indorsed with an introduction from me, - you would find in the house of young Ralph, firstly, his father, old Ralph, gracefully enacting the rôle of grandfather; secondly, the fair Florence, surrounded by several olive-shoots of the Trevannion stock; and, lastly, -nay, it is most likely

you will meet him first, for he will take your hat from you in the hall, — an individual with a crop of carroty hair, fast changing to the color of turnips. You will know him as Tipperary Tom. "Truth will yez."

Cross half a dozen fields, climb over a stile, under the shadow of gigantic trees, oaks and elms; pass along a plank foot-bridge spanning a crystal stream full of carp and trout; go through a wicket-gate into a splendid park, and then follow a gravelled walk that leads up to the walls of a mansion. You can only do this coming from the other house, for the path thus indicated is not a "right of way."

Enter the dwelling to which it has guided you. Inside you will encounter, first, a well-dressed darkey, who bids you welcome with all the airs of an M. C. This respectable Ethiopian, venerable in look-partly on account of his age, partly from the blanching of his black hair—is an old acquaintance, by name Mosey.

He summons his master to your side. You cannot mistake that handsome gentleman, though he is years older than when you last saw him. The same open countenance, the same well-knit, vigorous frame, which, even as a boy, were the characteristics of the young Paraense.

No more can you have forgotten that elegant lady who stands by his side, and who, following the fashion of her Spanish-American race, frankly and without affectation comes forth to greet you. No longer the little Rosa, the protégée of Richard, but now his wife, with other little Rosas and Richards, promising soon to be as big as herself, and as handsome as her husband.

The tableau is almost complete as a still older Richard appears in the background, regarding with a satisfied air his children and grandchildren, while saluting their guest with a graceful gesture of welcome.

Almost complete, but not quite. A figure is absent from the canvas, hitherto prominent in the picture. Why is it not still seen in the foreground? Has death claimed the tapuyo for his own?

Not a bit of it. Still vigorous, still life-like as ever, he may be seen any day upon the Amazon, upon the deck of a galliota, no longer in the humble capacity of a tapuyo, but acting as capatoz, as patron.

His old patron had not been ungrateful; and the gift of a schooner was the reward bestowed upon the guide who had so gallantly conducted our adventurers through the dangers of the Gapo, and shared their perils while they were AFLOAT IN THE FOREST."

66

TH

LESSONS IN MAGIC.

VIII.

HERE is a story in "The Arabian Nights," of a Greek king who cut off his physician's head in order that he might hear it speak when separated from its body. I don't know whether our curiosity would carry us quite so far, in these more civilized days; but I do know that the announcement of "a speaking head" brings together a great crowd. In the latter part of the year 1865, - I don't remember the month, but think it was December, -a conjurer in London, known as Colonel Stodare, announced as in preparation a new wonder. Like all other large cities, London is ever anxious for a sensation, and waited impatiently for the new trick, which was to surprise it as conjuring trick never before had done. At last it was ready, and immense placards posted through the streets announced

"The Sphinx,-A Mystery,"

as on exhibition at Egyptian Hall. Whether the audience which attended on the first night of its exhibition expected to find that the original article from the banks of the Nile - which Mr. Kinglake, the historian, describes as "more wondrous and more awful than all else in the land of Egypt" — had been bodily transported to that cosey little room, or not, I don't know; but what they did see astonished them quite as much. When the curtain rose, the stage was discovered draped at the back and sides with heavy hangings, and in the centre of it (the stage) stood a small round-topped table, made with a very slight frame, and without a cloth, or anything about it, which might be used for the purpose of concealment. The exhibitor now entered, holding in his hand a green baize box, about two feet and a half square. "In this box, ladies and gentlemen," he said, "is contained the greatest of modern mysteries. What it is, or by what means the phenomena you are about to witness, are effected, you must decide for yourselves. I can assure you, however, that it is not the result of either ventriloqual or mechanical powers. More than this I do not deem it prudent to say, but will at once proceed with the exhibition." Approaching the table, he placed the box on it, and having unlocked it, the sides, back and front, which were held together by the closing of the lid, fell apart, revealing "The Sphinx." This was a human head, decorated with an Egyptian head-dress, and looking as much like a mummy as anything else. The eyes were closed, but at the performer's command of "Sphinx, awake!" they opened and were turned on the audience, first right, then left, in a most startling manner. The performer next left the stage, and went down into the house, in order to prevent the possibility of ventriloquism, and proceeded to ask a number of questions, to all of which the Sphinx gave apt answers.

The most impressive part of the exhibition, however, was when the Sphinx

smiled. One of the morning papers, describing the exhibition, thus commented on it: "There was something so human and yet so devilish in its smile, that it chilled the very marrow in our bones." To conclude the exhibition, the box was gathered round about the head once more, lifted from the table, and, to satisfy the audience that the Sphinx was yet inside, was carried to the foot-lights, and opened; when lo! there remained but a heap of ashes, where the moment before had been this wonderful head.

The curtain fell, but the audience wanted the performance continued, and at last, in answer to their call, Stodare came forward. "Ladies and gentlemen, you desire a repetition of this most wonderful performance. I would most gladly give it to you, if it was in my power to do so. I had, however, but one Sphinx, and that, as you have seen, has crumbled to ashes. If you will come again to-morrow night, I will promise to have another, equal in every respect to the one which has so pleased you to-night." They did come, or at any rate his room was crowded the next and many succeeding nights. The Queen saw it and was pleased to be amused at it, and then, when all London had wondered at it, it was brought to this country, and New York and Boston joined London in expressions of amazement.

66

Many were the guesses as to the way in which it was done. "The voice is conveyed to it by tubes," said one. "It is ventriloquism, let them say what they may," said another. And so on, and so on; but none guessed how it was really done, and, as my readers are probably impatient to know, I will explain it to them without further parley.

"The Sphinx" is an optical illusion, and is the joint invention and property of Messrs. Pepper, Sylvester, and Tobin, by whom it is patented in Great Britain and the United States.

The whole trick lies in the table. This is made with a square frame and a round top, and in the centre of the top is cut a hole, fitted with a trap, so as to admit of the head being passed up. The head used is not a mere wax or plaster affair, but real flesh and blood, with the body concealed, and in this concealment of the body lies the secret of the trick. The accompanying illustration will give my readers a better idea of it than all the description I could write. In it is seen a table, with only three legs visible, and under this table sits the person who represents the Sphinx, his head coming up through the trap. In the drawing the body is seen, but when exhibitingand now we come to "the mystery of the Sphinx" — the spaces between the legs of the table are fitted with mirrors. The mirrors being in their places, the table is placed exactly in the centre, the leg marked No. 2 facing the audience. My readers must remember that the sides and back of the stage are hung with curtains, and the mirrors, being at angles with the sides, reflect the curtains with which they are draped.

The audience, seeing the reflection of the side curtains, imagine that they are looking directly under the table at the back curtains, and never for a moment dream that they are only peering into a looking-glass.

This is the whole mystery of the Sphinx.

The performer when addressing the audience is always careful to get out