From "Sunny Memories of Foreign Lands."
WARWICK CASTLE.

FROM Stratford we drove to Warwick. This town stands on a rocky hill, on the banks of the Avon, in England, and is quite a considerable place, for it returns two members to Parliament, and has upward of ten thousand inhabitants; and also has some famous manufactories of wool combing and spinning. But what we came to see was the castle. We drove up to the Warwick Arms, which is the principal hotel in the place; and finding that we were within the hours appointed for exhibition, we went immediately.

With my head in a kind of historical mist, full of images of York and Lancaster, and red and white roses, and Warwick the king-maker, I looked up to the towers and battlements of the old castle. We went in through a passage-way cut in solid rock, about twenty feet deep, and I should think fifty long. These walls were entirely covered with ivy, hanging down like green streamers; gentle and peaceable pennons these are, waving and whispering that the old war-times are gone.

drawbridge over what was formerly the moat, but which is now grassed and planted with shrubbery. Up over our heads we saw the great iron teeth of the portcullis. When we came fairly into the court-yard of the castle, a scene of magnificent beauty opened before us. I can not describe it minutely. The principal features are the battlements, towers, and turrets, of the old feudal castle, encompassed by grounds on which has been expended all the princely art of landscape gardening for which England is famous-leafy thickets, magnificent trees, openings, and vistas of verdure, and wide sweeps of grass, short, thick, and vividly green as the velvet moss we sometimes see growing on rocks in New England.

Grass-growing is an art and a science in England. The pains that are taken in sowing, tending, cutting, clipping, rolling, and otherwise nursing and coaxing it, being seconded by the misty breath and often falling tears of the climate, produce results which must be seen to be appreciated.

The great hall of the castle is sixty-two feet in length and forty in breadth, ornamented with a richly-carved Gothic roof.

At the end of the passage there is a The sides of the wall are ornamented with

lances, corselets, shields, helmets, and com- | mind of Cæsar; so I will quote him. Meplete suits of armor, regularly arranged as morus might have said, in respect to the in an armory. Opening from this apart-hosts of the spelling-book, "I came, I saw, ment on either side are suites of rooms, the I conquered." He generally stood at the whole series being three hundred and thirty- head of a class every one of whom was three feet in length. These rooms are all two years his elder. Poor creatures! they hung with pictures, and studded with curi- studied hard, some of them, but it did no osities of immense value. good: Memorus Wordwell was born to be above them, as some men are said to have been "born to command."

We passed through a long corridor, the sides of which were lined with pictures, statues, busts, &c. One was a noble but melancholy bust of the Black Prince, beautifully chiseled in white marble; another was a plaster cast, said to have been taken of the face of Oliver Cromwell immediately after death. The face had a homely strength, amounting almost to coarseness. The evidences of its genuineness appear in glancing at it; every thing is authentic, even to the wart on the lip. The expression was noble and peaceful, bringing to mind the oft-quoted words,

After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well."

MEMORUS WORDWELL.*

Master Wordwell was a remarkable reader, too. When but five years old he could rattle off a word as extensive as the name of a Russian noble, as easily as the schoolmaster himself. "He can read in the hardest chapters of the Testament as fast ag'in as I can," said his mother.—“I never did see any thing beat it," exclaimed his father; "he speaks up as loud as a minister." But I have said enough about this prodigy. I have said thus much because, although he was thought so surpassingly bright, he was the most decided ninny in the school. The fact is, he did not know what the sounds he uttered meant. It never entered his head, nor the heads of his parents and most of his teachers, that words and sentences were written, and should be read, only to be understood.

One little anecdote about Memorus Wordwell before we let him go.

It happened, one day, that the "cut and split" for the fire fell short, and Jonas Patch was out wielding the ax in schooltime. He had been at work about half an hour, when Memorus, who was perceived to have less to do than the rest, was sent out to take his place. He was about ten years old, and four years younger than Jonas. "Memorus, you may go out and spell Jonas." Our hero did not think of the Yankee sense in which the master used the

THE most extraordinary spelling, and indeed reading machine, in our school, was a boy whom I shall call Memorus Wordwell. He was mighty and wonderful in the acquisition and remembrance of words, -of signs without the ideas signified. The alphabet he acquired at home before he was two years old. What exultation of parents, what exclamation from admiring visitors! "There was never any thing like it." He had almost accomplished his Abs before he was thought old enough for school. At an earlier age than usual, however, he was sent; and then he went from Ache to Abomination in half the summers and winters it took the rest of us to go over the same space. It was astonishing how quick-word spell. Indeed, Memorus had never ly he mastered column after column, section attached but one meaning to it whenever after section, of obstinate orthographies. it was used with reference to himself. Those martial terms I have just used, supposed the master was granting him a together with our hero's celerity, put me in ride extraordinary on his favorite hobby. So he put his spelling-book under his arm, and was out at the wood-pile with the speed of a boy rushing to play.

*From "The District School As It Was," a volume of charming sketches of school life, from the pen of that distinguished laborer in the cause of education, Warren Burton.

He

"Have you got your spellin'-lesson, Jo- | scholars wondered at his looks, and grinned nas?" was his first salutation.-"I haven't in sympathy. looked at it yit," was the reply. "I mean to cut up this plaguy great log, spellin' or no spellin', before I go in. I had as lieve keep warm here choppin' wood, as freeze up there in that cold back seat."—" Well, the master sent me out to hear you spell." "Did he? Well, put out the words, and I'll spell." Memorus being so distinguished a speller, Jonas did not doubt but that he was really sent out on this errand. So our deputy spelling-master mounted the top of the wood-pile, just in front of Jonas, to put out words to his temporary pupil, who still kept on putting out chips.

Original.

THE CHALLENGE.

Enter MR. COOL, followed by MAJOR BLUSTER.

Mr. Cool. Now, sir, we are alone. Pray what may this business be, that you could not disclose before my family?

Maj. Bluster (producing a newspaper). I call, sir, in behalf of Mr. Bigbug, the gentleman alluded to in this speech, to ask of you if it is reported aright.

Mr. C. I presume to say that it is, inasmuch as I furnished the report myself.

Maj. B. (pointing to a paragraph in the paper). This particular passage, sir, -it is quite short, is what we are especially anxious to know about. Have the goodness to read it. (Giving him the paper.)

Mr. C. (reading). "There are men hanging about the Treasury Office, intriguing for fat jobs and easy contracts, who, if they had their de-serts', would be hammering stone in certain institutions where the labor is not voluntary."- Well, sir?

Maj. B. That is yours, is it? Mr. C. Ay, every syllable of it. Maj. B. Well, sir, what is wanted is, that you should disclaim any intention, in uttering that sentiment, of reflecting upon my friend, Mr. Bigbug.

heard of your friend, Mr. Bigbug, you ask what it is impossible for me to grant. How do I know that he is not one of the men who come properly under the description in my speech?

Maj. B. Not knowing him, you are certainly willing to clear him from the suspicion conveyed in your language.

Mr. C. Not having named him, I am willing to do no such thing. If the cap fits him, let him put it on. If it appears to be made for another, let him leave it for that other to wear.

Maj. B. Your reply, sir, is unsatisfac

tory.

Mr. C. I am sorry for that, since it is the best you are likely to get.

Maj. B. I understand, then, that you do not authorize me to say you meant no reflection on Mr. Bigbug, in your remark?

Mr. C. You know exactly how far I reflected on a man I had never heard of.

Maj. B. Have the goodness, sir, to give me a direct answer, without evasion or equivocation.

Mr. C. In a direct answer there can be neither evasion nor equivocation. Your use of those words, therefore, is not only impertinent, but redundant. I would recommend to you for study, first, an excellent Mr. C. As this is the first time I ever little work entitled "Elements of Gram

THE CHALLENGE.

Maj. B. What if we post you at every corner as a slanderer and a coward?

Mr. C. I would not cross the street to tear down the pla-card'. Those who know me would laugh at it; those who know me

Mr. C. All that I know, sir, is that you not would not think ill of me, but of the creature of their imaginations.