A NOVEL BREEDING-PLACE.

AST spring my attention was called by
one of my men to an old scarecrow
which had lain in the field since the
previous autumn, the body of which
consisted of an old bag stuffed with
straw, inside of which were five young
rabbits. Perhaps you may think this
an instance worth recording of a
rabbit breeding aboveground, a fact
which very seldom happens, and there-
fore is worth recording.

 

 

THE GENEROUS RIVALS.
From the Italian of C. Cautie.

N 1401 the citizens of Florence determined to put
two bronze gates to the Temple of San Giovanni,
the patron saint of that city. In order that the best
artists might offer to undertake the work, they
declared that they should entrust its execution to that
artist who showed he possessed the greatest talent.
Among the competitors came Filippo Brunelleschi,
Donatello, Lorenzo Ghiberti, Jacopo della Quercia,
Simone del Colle, Francesco di Valdambria, and
Nicolo d’Arezzo, all of them sculptors and architects
of the highest order. Everyone of them brought a
small model of the gates. A committee of expe-
rienced judges having been chosen to decide who
was the best, it was found that Donatello’s design
was good, but his execution imperfect ; that Jacopo
della Quercia’s figures were well done, but were
destitute of all grace; and that Simone’s gates were
cast beautifully, but the design was not clear; Fran-
cesco had given his figures fine heads, but his com-
position was bad; while on the other hand, though
they praised Nicolo for the grandeur of his design,
his figures were short and thick ; as to Ghiberti’s
model, they scarcely looked at it, for he was a young
man, and they did not expect much from him. In
the end, they declared that Donatello’s and Filippo
Brunelleschi’s were the best.
If these gifted men had been mere ordinary per-

sons, they would have been elated with the honours ~

conferred on them, and the one would have tried to
get the better of the other, and secure the splendid
commission for himself alone. But where there is
great merit there is seldom envy. The two sculptors
pointed out that Ghiberti’s model was distinguished
by careful work and admirable execution, that the
idea embodied was a noble one, and the figures were
thoroughly lifelike. They therefore persuaded the
committee to entrust him with the erection of the
gates.

The committee took their advice, and the result
was magnificent. But the Florentines, while ad-
miring Ghiberti’s genius, could not refrain from
loudly praising the magnanimity of his friends.

‘Happy, indeed, are those,’ cried they, ‘ who thus
willingly give each his turn, and take pleasure in
showing the beauties of another’s work !?

CaRLo Viti.

=e

THE
BANISHED CHIEF.

\GERMAN traveller in the
Far West of North America,
halted for some days at a
Mission Station. During the
services in the church on
Sunday he was much struck
by a tall Indian, who officiated
as sacristan. In his wild, shy
looks there was something
strange and mysterious. After
the service, the traveller ex-
pressed to the clergyman how
much this man had struck him, and he begged him
to tell him something about his history.

‘You are right,’ said the clergyman ; ‘ Neykeemie
is no ordinary Indian. He possesses much sense
and deep feeling, and therefore I have appointed
him to this office, which all envy. His pride was
broken by a great misfortune which befell him when
he was chief of the Ojibbeways. Banished by his
own tribe on account of a deed of despair, and broken-
hearted, the rough warrior came here, to seek pardon
from the God of the white men. His story is very
interesting, but very sad; but, if you like to hear it,
I will willingly tell it to you.

‘ Neykeemie, a few years ago, was the most power-
ful and respected chief of the Ojibbeways. When
I first came to this country, a short time back, he
promised me, for a small service I rendered him, his
protection ; and he faithfully kept his word, helping
the mission in every way in his power.

‘He was not less esteemed in the judgment of his
tribe, and he was the first to lead the way in the
bloody path of war. Thus, some years ago, he pre-
pared, in the middle of winter, an expedition against
the Yanktons, across the boundaries of Dacota, from
the result of which he promised himself great things.
Alas! he could not foresee the end of it.

‘Imagine to yourself a large Indian village in the
midst of dark pines, the huts covered with birch-bark,
and the wigwams with many-coloured skins, to protect
them from the icy north wind. The whole population,
from the grey-haired veteran to the infant, is on its
legs, and the young squaws have. clothed themselves
in their brightest garments, to charm the warriors of
the tribe ; round the striped post which stands in the
middle of the camp the red men silently assemble,
with feathers in their black hair, and their faces fan-
tastically painted.

‘In the midst of this assembly of his soldiers stood
Neykeemie, in deep thought; for during the night
he had dreamt a fearful dream, and all Indians
are superstitious. But whether it was the cold
morning air or the sight of his brave men which
inspirited him, he cast away all care, and gave his
commands. He proudly showed the scars with which
he was covered; and his contented look fell on the
scalps which hung from his girdle, and on the claws
of the grey bear, which, tied in a string, hung down
upon his broad breast. The hollow drums’ beat in

 

‘increasingly quick time ; the war-song of his brave

men rose and fell in ever wilder cadences, and each
warrior, as he yelled forth his battle-cry, struck his