The streets of St. Petersburgh are from sixty to one hundred and twenty feet wide, and nearly a dozen of them are more than a mile long. Two of them are twice that length. These, with the three canals, the great river Neva, various branches running through and around the city; the multitude of gardens, squares, large and splendid buildings, domes, steeples and bridges, give the place an air of surpassing magnificence. There are seventy bridges over the different waters of St. Petersburgh; half of them are of granite, eight or ten are of iron, and the rest of wood. The Quays, or long wharves, are the most extensive in the world. One of them, called the English Quay, reaches more than two niles along the banks of the Neva. It is raised on piles, ten feet above the river, and he wall is built of granite. It has a granite oot-pavement seven feet wide, with a stone parapet on one side a foot thick, and two nd a half feet high. The carriage-way is more than thirty feet wide. Immense ran ges of buildings extend along this, and the other Quays. The view of the city is very beautiful, as you may suppose, from the domes of the churches. I ascended one of them on a fine clear day in October, and looked down upon the banks of the Neva, lined on both sides, for miles, with long rows of splendid houses. Its bright, still surface was covered with pleasure-boats, merchant vessels, gondolas, and ships of war, sailing in all directions among the islands and bridges. The large broad domes of the Greek churches, the tall spires of the other churches, the roofs, galleries, and pillars of a hundred palaces, shining in the sun; the military barracks crowded with troops; the canals, bridges, groves and gardens; and the vast numbers of people of all nations thronging the long straight streets of the city, with dresses of every color and shape, and carriages of every description; all went to make up a gorgeous scene that almost bewildered the senses. From the "Inciter," a well conducted work, published in Lancaster, Pa. THE USE OF OUR EYES. A few days since one of our scholars read a tale which pleased me very much. It was about a camel driver who had lost one of his camels and on asking a man whom he met, whether he had seen the animal, the following dialogue passed between them. teeth?" "He is." "Was not your camel blind of an eye?" "Yes." "Has he not lost one of his fore "He has." "Is he not lame?" "Was he not loaded with a vessel of oil and another of honey?" "He was, Can you tell me where I may find him?" "No;" said the other, "I never saw your camel." "How could you describe him so well if you never saw him?" The man then told him that he had in the first place, seen camel tracks; he then noticed by the tracks, that the animal had made more false steps on one side, than on the other; from this he supposed the creature had lost the sight of the eye on that side. He next observed that the mark made by one foot, was not so deep in the sand as that made by the other three, and this made him think the animal was lame with that foot, and trod lightly on it. He supposed he had lost one of his foreteeth, for he saw some spears of grass left standing in many places where the camel had stept out of the path to take a bite of grass. The bees which he saw in the places where the camel had grazed, led him to examine what they were after; he found it was honey, and at the same time he took notice, at each place, of some oil; from this he concluded that the creature was loaded with honey and oil, and that both the vessels leaked. A particular friend of mine who was in our school at the time, said it was very much like the tale he had heard, and which I remember to have read many years ago, of an Indian who was describing a person he had never seen. He said he was a little old man with a short gun, who had a small dog with a short tail. That the man was little, he inferred from the size of his track; he was old for he carried a walking stick which he put down at every step he took; the gun was short for he observed where the muzzle or small end had rubbed some bark off of a tree against which he had leaned or reared it; it was but a short distance from this place to the mark made by the butt of the gun in the snow. He judged the dog was small by the size of the tracks, and by the mark he made where he seated himself near the gun; here too he saw that he had a short tail. I do not know that either of these tales is exactly true, though it is certain tha: something like them has often happened, and I think they contain good hints for us, as they show how much we can get to know when we make good use of our senses. We have many helps to assist us in getting knowledge, which neither the camel driver nor the Indian had, and it is well for us that we have, but if we were to use all our aids as carefully as they did theirs, how knowing we should be. We must not think that because we have books and other things which these men had not, to help them in getting knowledge, that we need not make much use of our senses; the books may be wrong, and may lead us wrong if we do not use our own eyes, ears, fingers, &c., to prove whether what we find in them be true. HYMN. As o'er the earth the weary dove So hath my soul when wandering far, O may 1 then a lesson learn caught by the tail, whilst making its way into the earth, its resistance is so great, that it will sometimes leave it in the hands of its pursuers: to avoid this, the hunter has recourse to artifice; and, by tickling it with a stick, it gives up its hold, and suffers itself to be taken alive. If no other means of escape be left, it rolls itself up within its covering, by drawing in its head and legs, and bringing its tail round them as a band, to connect them more forcibly together: in this situation it sometimes escapes by rolling itself over the edge of a precipice; in which case it generally falls to the bottom unhurt. When found in its hole, it is either smoked out, or expelled by pouring in water. When its pursuers, however, begin to dig for it, it eludes them by digging at the same time, and throwing the earth behind it, which it does so effectually, as to prevent smoke from penetrating. The Armadillo is a native of South America, in which country there are several varieties of them. They are all covered with a strong crust or shell, and are distinguished from each other by the number of flexible bands of which it is composed. It is about twelve inches long, and eight broad, and is a harmless inoffensive animal, living in burrows under ground, which it seldom quits but at night; roots, fruits, and other vegetables are its food; it grows very fat, and is greatly esteemed for the delicacy of its flesh. The Indians hunt it with small dogs, trained for that purpose. When surprised, it runs to its hole, or if it cannot reach that, it attempts to make a new one, which it does with great expedition, having strong claws on its fore feet, with which it adheres so firmly to the ground, that, if it should be THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. If a traveller on a long journey, reaches the top of a mountain, which affords an extensive prospect, and exhibits the road over which he has travelled, and that which he has still to pursue, he will naturally pause and consider the past, as well as the future portion of his journey. Now we are all of us like this traveller; we are making the journey of life; and in our progress from the outset in childhood, to the arrival at the bourn from which no traveller returns, we have reached the epoch of a new year. One year, the year 1833, has passed away, with all its catalogue of events. The even ticking of the clock; the rising and setting of the sun, the numbering of the days and months, have measured out the allotted period of time, and the year, so lately begun, is now for ever with the past. No portion of it can come back― it is gone, buried in the abyss of ages. The clock that strikes tells us of the hour that has departed. We feel this little, or perhaps take no note of time. We are accustomed to see the seconds, the minutes and the days fly, without considering that every sweep of the pendulum, marks a period of time that has fled. But if a deep toned bell, with a voice proportioned to the import of the occasion it was designed to mark, should strike when a year has departed, we could not but feel the deepest emotion. Let us imagine that such a bell as this has struck, and while it still vibrates on the ear, and in the heart, let us consider how it should affect us. Or let us imagine, that we are with the traveller, on the peak, looking backward over the way we have gone, and forward, upon the uncertain journey that leads on and on, and is lost amid the clouds and mists of doubt and distance. What then have we done the last year? Have we done well or ill? Have we improved the time that Providence has given us, in the way in which it was designed we should use it? Have we stored our minds with knowledge? Have we filled our hearts with truth, love and kindness? Have we been obedient to our parents, and obedient to our Heavenly Father? Have we been kind to our brothers, and sisters and companions? Have we always spoken truth, and never indulged in malice? If we can answer yes, to these questions, then let us be happy; let us be at peace; let us look upon the past portion of our journey with content, and forward upon what is coming with cheerfulness and hope. Like a boy that goes forth in the morning with a fath us enter cheerily into the pleasures and duties that come in our way. But if we have done ill-if we have not used the past year, to become wiser and better; if our minds are not more enlightened, and our hearts are not more kind and gentle and true; then we have cause for sadness, and deep apprehension. If we have uttered falsehood, or been perverse in our tempers; if we have disobeyed our parents, indulged in malice, or sought the injury of another, then we have need of bitter repentance, and the aid of One, who alone can help us in this distress. Our situation is worse than that of a traveller, who is beset in a wilderness by a lion, with no weapon for defence, and no helper near; for it were better that the body should be torn by a wild beast, than that the immortal mind, the soul be scarred by the practice of wickedness. But if we have done ill, there is indeed a way by which the evil may be in some degree repaired. Let us repent of it and do so no more. This is the simple remedy, and every one may use it. Let us look well into our hearts; read over and over the record of our actions, and if we deteet any thing wrong, let us mark that passage well, and see that there is in future no other like it. TERMS OF PARLEY'S MAGAZINE. Price one dollar a year, in advance. Each number being stereotyped, the back numbers can be supplied in any quantities. All orders post paid, promptly at tended to. The postage on this Magazine is three quarters of a cent for 100 miles, and one cent and a quarter only, the greatest distance. Published every other Saturday, by COLLINS & HANNAY, New York. MARSHALL & BROWN, Providence er's approbation and a father's blessing, let sold by all the principal booksellers in the United Stater This vigorous and well known bird subsists entirely on the fish that swarm in our bays and rivers; and is no farther dependent on the land than as a mere resting place, or spot of deposit for his nest, eggs and young. He never attacks the inferior land animals, with the intention of feeding upon them; but will sometimes, when he arrives in the north before the breaking up of the ice, make war upon the bald eagles. The nest of the Fish-Hawk is usually built on the top of a dead or decaying tree, sometimes upwards of fifty feet from the ground. It is composed of large sticks, intermixed with corn stalks, sea-weed, pieces of wet turf, and mullein stalks, and lined with dry sea-grass; the whole forming a mass very observable at half a mile's distance. The female generally lays three eggs, somewhat larger than those of the common hen, and nearly of the same shape. They are of a reddish cream color, daubed over with dark brown. During the time the female is sitting, the male frequently supplies her with fish; and on the appearance of the young, the zeal and watchfulness of the parents are extreme. The flight of the Fish Hawk, and his manœuvres in seeking and seizing his prey, are deserving of particular description. In leaving his nest, he flies directly to the sea, then sails round in easy curving lines, apparently without the least exertion, rarely moving the wings, his legs extended in a |