their organs approach the outer world. Hence the frequent confusion between them, as in the effect of salmiac, or horse-radish, which has nothing to do with odor, but is merely mechan. ical, and produces the same irritation on the skin of the eyes. Perhaps this uncertainty may explain in part the inability of languages to designate the infinite variety of odors. For we still speak of sharp and pungent smells, or we give them the name of flowers and animals by which they are produced.

sitely delicate and sensitive, that even in pure | therefore, pass easily into touch, especially as water they instantly swell and change their form. They are as easily detached, and in a cold the phlegm shows under a microscope an abundance of these tiny cells, still in most active motion. Cells and cilia both are indispensable for smell. It is well known that a cold deprives us of the latter, because then the cells are swollen, and the cilia move in different directions; the same occurs in excessive dryness. The last most delicate fibres of the olfactory nerves are not exposed to the air, nor to the immediate action of an odorous substance. No nerve comes in this manner in immediate contact with the outer world. As the senses are only handmaidens of the mind enthroned within, so their servants, the nerves, also have nothing to do with the world, but only report to the secret power that certain changes have taken place in that portion of the body over which they are appointed to watch. The fine particles that have odor affect the delicate cilia and the skin underneath, in a manner as yet as mysterious as the influence of light on the Daguerreian silver-plate. The change, probably electrical, is reported, and becomes known to us in our mind as odor. The process is one of incredible delicacy. A grain of musk, kept for long years, and losing no visible part of its volume, fills constantly a vast space around it with innumerable impalpable particles. Yet each of these inconceivably minute atoms produces, at the moment of contact, such a change in the peculiar form and nature of this skin, that immediately all nerves are put in action; most accurate reports are made at head-quarters, and our mind is filled with pleasant or unpleasant sensations. Thus astonishment and admiration are excited here, as every where, when a glance is permitted at the secrets of nature.

To smell as to taste motion is requisite, and odorous substances must touch the delicate hairs while the current of air is carrying them on its active waves. Another beautiful evidence of the wisdom of our Maker! For as the larynx needed only to be placed where it is, at the head of the respiratory organs, to be ever provided with air without effort, and even without consciousness, so the sense of smell is placed at the very entrance-gate where the air we breathe is constantly passing, and thus ever carries on its imperceptible waves odorous atoms. If the air be perfectly stagnant the sense also rests in repose, and smell is impossible. Hence we stop breathing, and thus arrest the current of air to exclude disagreeable odors; and when we wish to smell we do it, not by one long-drawn respiration, but by repeated rapid breathings.

Taste and smell, however, are most nearly related, and almost one in the lower classes of the animal kingdom, especially among the children of water, where, to human perceptions at least, all smell would be impossible. The two senses are apt to suffer together, and a defect or disease in one commonly affects the other. The great similarity of sensations caused by either, enables us often to tell the taste of a thing from its smell, and has led us, no doubt, to give so frequently the same names to both. It does not follow, however, that what pleases the one must needs please the other; for highlyseasoned venison, so pleasant to the palate of the gourmand, is rarely a "pleasant savor," and the aphrodisiacal apple, the delight of men in India, has the odor of a putrid onion. But it must be confessed that, after all, the mechanism of this sense is as yet but imperfectly known; science can not even tell us whether our nerves perceive odor by chemical or by mechanical action. So true is it that "we are fearfully and wonderfully made."

The exquisite delicacy of this sense, and its powerful influence on the mind, arises mainly from the fact that the olfactory nerves stand in the very nearest and most constant connection with the brain. Even in animals they are the immediate and powerful continuation of the substance of the brain. In man this is still more distinctly marked. This close and intimate relation between the organ of smell and the great temple of intellect, and the very large surface on which these nerves operate, explain both the marvelous variety of impressions we receive by smell and the permanent influence of odors on our inner life. Nor can it be entirely insignificant that the two nostrils are independent of each other. Two distinct fragrant substances presented at once do not produce a mixed odor, but both are distinctly perceptible, and we can at will let one prevail over the other. Our attention alone decides between the two competitors, who are equally anxious to gratify the eager nerves.

The power of perception itself varies wonAnother characteristic feature of this sense drously in different individuals. There exist lies in its mixed powers. In the secret cham- even cases, though very few, where both pairs bers of eye and ear, the most important parts of olfactory nerves and the sense of smell itof the hidden household of the intellect, no self were entirely wanting. Diseases are apt to other sensations are produced but those of sight produce very remarkable changes in our percepand hearing. Not so with taste and smell, whose tions. Women who, in good health, were passpecial nerves are every where interwoven with sionately fond of the sweet odor of flowers, dethe general nerves of the face. Both senses, test them in hysteric attacks, and prefer the

alone, and not for the obtaining of food, for they will not eat the game they have thus tracked, although the scent seems to animate them far beyond the zeal that a mere desire of food could produce. Birds of prey, that feed upon carrion, are often guided by smell, though most of them rely on their sight with greater accuracy, and at farther distances. In other animals, again, it serves to enable the male to discover the female, which at certain seasons is gifted with special odors. Nor are the influences of odors on the passions of animals less striking. Elephants, who have never seen tigers, show the most violent symptoms of fear and horror at their mere smell. In one of the gorgeous spectacles which

odor of asafoetida or burnt feathers to all oth- | even to have been given for this special purpose ers. Strychnine, on the other hand, snuffed up or taken inwardly, sharpens the sense to almost painful acuteness. Pleasant but gentle odors are most frequently imperceptible to men but feebly endowed with the sense of smell. Frequent change, also, and constant use, make the latter at last dull, and finally inactive; the most pleasant perfumes, if used without intermission, become at first indifferent and then disagreeable. Thanks to the fact that habit diminishes the power of the sense, step by step, workmen who deal with putrid substances, druggists, and surgeons, soon overcome their first often painful impressions. Equally fortunate is it that a stronger smell extinguishes the weaker. A drop of oil of cloves and one of oil of pepper-Lord Clive was so fond of giving to strangers, mint put into the same bottle produce no mixture, but the former only is smelled, while the latter has for a time disappeared. Hence the large consumption of snuff by the young student of anatomy, made more efficient yet by the experience that the odor remains in the nostrils long after the fragrant substance is removed, thanks to the tiny atoms caught and kept captives between the downy hairs.

The effect of smell on the general state of our health and on our temper is not less varied and interesting. Men with a dull nose keep no account at all of their perceptions by this sense. Others are influenced by it more than by any other, and odors excite in them pleasure and comfort, or disgust and even fainting illness. The Italians love the perfumes of flowers with passion, but can not endure artificial odors. While Schiller kept rotting apples in his drawers, sharing the royal poet's wish, "The smell of thy nose shall be like apples," Quercet, the secretary of Francis I., could never smell them without giving his nose a violent bleeding. While some men scarcely notice the most penetrating and disagreeable odors, others perceive instantly the most delicate exhalations. The blind very often become acute observers by this sense, and can with marvelous accuracy recognise persons by the faint, feeble odor of their perspiration, which we do not notice. It is well known that our Indians perceive in the mere touch of a bare foot on the soil a sufficient odor to distinguish the track of a white man from that of a red man. In the Antilles there are negroes who will even, by smell alone, distinguish the footstep of a Frenchman from that of a native.

nothing could force or allure an elephant to pass a place over which a tiger in his cage had been dragged. A gallon of arrac, however, at once changed his fear into fury; he broke down the barriers between himself and his adversary, and killed him almost in an instant. Horses, also, can not easily be made to step over the spot where another horse has died, though they have not seen it, and though no trace of it may remain. All farmers are, moreover, familiar with the fact that oxen, upon seeing blood, especially if it come from their own race, will assemble around it, and roar and bellow with most expressive signs of horror and deep distress. They have no sensation of fear, nor can they apprehend death to themselves: it is one of those mysterious symptoms of a higher life in the brute creation, all of which we cover conveniently and lazily with the broad name of instinct.

If we finally sum up the powers of this remarkable sense, we find that besides its humbler and more or less mechanical purposes, it serves to make us aware of the long series of odors, pleasant or unpleasant in their impression upon our mind. The variety thus presented to our higher perceptions is all the more remarkable because it is so vast that it can not be fully or satisfactorily designated by words. Smell is the poorest of all senses in point of language. It borrows a few names from the other senses, mostly from the taste; but a thousand delicate shades, of the highest importance to each one of us, can not be expressed at all, or at least but imperfectly, and by a number of vague expressions. Still, this very variety aids us in distinguishing countless objects, by which powFor such purposes animals are often endow-er the sense becomes a valuable and efficient ed with a peculiarly keen sense of smell. By it the spaniel finds the game in field and forest for his master; by it the camel bears the pilgrim to the fountain of fresh water across the burning sands of Arabia; and by it the shark pursues through the ocean his helpless victim. Safer than sight or hearing, smell alone leads the faithful dog to trace his master's course through the crowded street and the lonely heath, where man could not find the dog by such or other means. In some dogs it seems

guardian of our health. It warns us constantly against much that would be injurious, by an instinct, as yet unexplained, but acknowledged to be surer than all rule or science. This power itself is no sign of superiority in man, for here the Indian is vastly superior to the European, and still even he can not always compete with the beast of the forest. No animal, however, can be said to enjoy sweet odors, though elephants are said to love flowers, and to delight in the mere flavor of arrac. More remarkable still is

it, that unpleasant odors affect us with so much | the calumet of the Indian and the pipe in the greater violence than sweet perfumes. How- Orient. The custom of kindling a fire and of ever we may be pleased with the fragrance of a throwing herbs or fragrant roses on it that the rose or a lily, still this never seizes us with the sweet smell might please the Deity, was known same force as the loathsome odor of putrid mat- to the very earliest races of men in Egypt, ter, which shakes our brain into spasms, and Mexico, and China. Even for mere human causes our very nature to revolt, and our body purposes, antiquity already knew the enjoyment to sicken. On the other hand, we find that derived from changing herbs and fruits into with eye and ear the perfectly beautiful almost smoke. Herodotus tells us that the Massaalways produces the greatest effect, while dis- getes threw the fruit of a tree growing on the sonances, or tasteless combination of colors, are Araxes isles into the fire, and the fumes arising but passingly painful. Hence smell and taste from it had an intoxicating effect like wine, alone produce that strange, complicated sensa- and inspired those who inhaled them so that tion which, as nausea, affects the body only, but they sang and danced. The ancient Scythians, is rarely felt without a corresponding lowness also, on the Borysthenes, took a variety of hempof spirit and sinking of the heart, utterly unlike seed, and throwing it on red-hot stones in their any sensation produced by the other senses. tents, inhaled it until "they roared with de

and humbler substitutes in the West. Snuff, also, is far more generally used than is commonly supposed: the humblest races of Africa, and the poorest of all nations on earth, the Esquimaux, knew it already when first discovered by Europeans. The Indians of South America bake the husk of a Mimosa, and mixing it with corn-meal and lime, draw the powdered mass through hollow bones of birds into the nose; while the natives of Greenland snuff dried mosses and mushrooms from early childhood.

Smell has, secondly, its own peculiar sym-light." Hence the almost universal custom of pathetic force, produced by the above mention-smoking hemp and opium in the East; tobacco ed close relation between its nerves and the innermost recesses of those halls where the mind of man is most active. With striking, almost stunning suddenness and force, certain ideas, especially of form and locality, which were impressed upon our mind in connection with certain odors, revive in us the very moment that similar odors affect our nerves. The sweet fragrance of cypress-wood is full of richest recollections of the fragrant Orient, and the faint perfume of the rose of Damascus paints with the lightning's flashing light the brilliant bazaar and the distant Houran on our mind's eye. Children of icy Sweden and Norway love to wander among spruces and pines, running over in sweet spring-time with resinous fragrance, until their homes among lofty snow-however, the facility with which the smelling capped mountains, rise before them in stately grandeur, and tears gush from the overburdened heart. An open door wafts a favorite perfume to us, and she whom we loved stands in passing beauty at our side; stale musk or nauseous camphor breathe upon us, and palls and shrouds hide once more the faded forms of those that are gone to a better home.

These impressions, produced by smell, may finally cease to be merely sympathetic and then become narcotic. The effect of fragrant flowers or of treacherous opium on the mind is well known from oldest times. More recently,

of ether or chloroform deadens all other impressions and almost causes life itself to pause for a time, has still more clearly shown the short road from the organ of smell to the brain, and the intimate, almost fearful, connection between this sense and the life of man. The effect is never instantaneous; all these substances are first exciting, and then only the mind becomes darkened. Hence, in some cases, the impressions remain in the first stage, and never reach the second, as those produced by the so

The little fragrant atoms now affect precisely the same minute, delicate nerves that they once before, perhaps years ago, had touched; there a thousand forgotten but not effaced impres-called Nicotiana. While the traveler Léry tells sions have been slumbering ever since, and at us that the Brazilians smoke tobacco until they the magic touch revive once more and cause in become fully intoxicated, the wiser races of us kindred sensations. Hence also the effect European blood ascribe to it better results, and that at least certain odors have on the other believe that it heightens, through the sense of senses or on our passions. The pleasant smell smell, the general activity of the mind, and of savory dishes causes "our mouths to water," sharpens the perceptions of our other senses. and raises the appetite, as other odors appeal Certain it is that snuff becomes very often an to even more delicate feelings. For all pleas- indispensable stimulant; and it was surely neiant odors increase the general sensibility, and ther accident, nor without good reasons, that not in idle dreaming said Mohammed that "per- men like Frederick the Great and Napoleon fumes raise the soul to heaven." There is hard-consumed such enormous quantities of snuff ly a nation of earth that does not feel this at least instinctively; and almost every form of religious worship on earth knows the use of odors and perfumes in the shape of incense. Burnt-offerings are a "sweet savor to the Lord," and myrrh and aloes are counted equal to gold. Hence also the vast importance attached to

from their waistcoat pockets.

We must not omit to allude, in conclusion, to the symbolic powers of this mueh neglected sense. Proverbs and common sayings refer to it in unusual frequency, and show us here, also, how the mass of the people ever anticipate in dim indistinct perceptions the great truths of

of men

science, which are only slowly unraveled. How | housekeeper that ever flourished a duster or frequently do we not hear, in slang-phrases jingled a bunch of keys. Such bright, cheerful "who have a fine nose," or a "keen brown eyes she had, such neatly-arranged, shinscent," because they show sagacity or judgment! ing brown hair, such a clear, healthful complexAs we "trace and track" things by sharp smell, ion and rosy smiling lips! That bright face so we trace and track them in the paths of and trim little figure made a picture in themknowledge by sharp thought. To "pull the selves not out of place in the artist's studio; nose" is the highest insult known among the and so he seemed to think himself as he turned most civilized nations; while in New Zealand round from his easel and watched her silently all greeting is done among friends by the rub- for a moment. bing or rather pressing of noses. Travelers tell us that the natives sit down, holding up their faces, while the strangers stand over them, and, one after another, press the bridge of their nosely, caught the sunshine on her smooth hair. against theirs. During the ceremony both par- She was a pretty little picture, pleasant to look ties utter most comfortable little grunts, and at, and yet not what the artist wanted, after each greeting shows as much variety in tender- all. ness and earnestness as, with us, the countless ways of shaking hands.

The ancients ascribed to the form and the sensations of the nose most varied ominous meanings, and even the Bible does not disdain to use the figures of haughty men "turning up their noses," or of the angry, whose nostrils open wide, and rise and quiver with wrath. Hence "He was wroth, and there went up a smoke out of his nostrils ;" and Job swears with great emphasis, "All the while my breath is in me, and the spirit of God is in my nostrils, my lips shall not speak wickedness."

IT

CINDERELLA.

NOT A FAIRY TALE.

Her hands were busy with some sort of white work, not whiter, though, than the swift little fingers flying over it, and her head bent slight

"Maggie," he exclaimed, suddenly, as he arrived at this conclusion, "I want a model !"

"Do you?" Maggie looked up saucily; "well, if you want a model of a good housekeeper, a neat seamstress, and the best sister in the world, you haven't far to look, brother Willie ! I'm at your service."

"Hold your tongue, Vanity!" the young man answered. "I've looked for such a model till I despair of finding it, and now I'm looking for just her opposite-a Cinderella."

"That stupid Cinderella! you haven't got at that again?" Maggie exclaimed. "Talk about a woman's fickleness-I wonder how many times you've said first you would, and then you wouldn't finish that picture! Oh, you immaculate lords of creation!"

"Don't be saucy, Maggie; it's constant association with you, I suppose, that makes me ‘unstable in all my ways.' But now I'm quite determined to finish this Cinderella-that is, if I can find a model for my heroine. That's the only reason why I haven't finished it long ago I can't find or invent a face that pleases me for her."

was an artist's studio; not a very extensive or elegant one, for our artist, like the mass of his brethren, had no superabundance of this world's goods. His studio was very much like a hundred others—a long, narrow room, with a broad window at one end, and a sky-light above; a crimson carpet, something faded, on the floor, a few chairs and couches of the same soft color; and the usual quantum of "sketches," "studies," and unframed pictures on the walls, and halffinished paintings on the easels. It differed from most artists' studies in this thing, though-that every where throughout the length and breadth of the room you saw the evidences of a woman's neatness and taste. There was no dust upon the loose piles of drawings, no cobwebs clinging to the few busts and statuettes that orna-said, laughing. mented the room; and though books and pa- "I think I see you!" her brother answered. pers and sketches seemed to lie around in pic-"No, Miss Maggie, I'll paint you for a little turesque carelessness, there was, nevertheless, Mabel in the woods

a method in their very disarrangement.

"Why, won't I do?" Maggie asked demurely. "You-nonsense! You're altogether too happy and contented-looking, and entirely too well dressed."

"But I have a dress equal to any thing Cinderella ever wore, and I could put you on the most miserable face in the world!" Maggie

'Look only, said another,

At her little gown of blue,

At the kerchief pinned about her head,
And her tidy little shoe!'

It was very evident that no clumsy "janitor," or "porter," had the care of that room; but a woman's hand-and not an Irish Biddy's either -gave to it its aspect of bright, cheerful neatness and comfort. For an undeniable proof, not very far from the easel sat a pretty little sewing-chair, and a footstool covered with fanciful embroidery beside it; moreover, a small foot, dressed in the neatest of slippers, was at that very time crushing down the worsted roses and heart's-ease of the little ottoman; and in the "Hear the President of the National Acadchair sat just the tidiest, bonniest little lady-emy!" Maggie cried gayly. "Was ever such a

But I must look farther for my Cinderella. She must have a cloud of golden curls-no such smooth, brown braids as yours-and tender violet eyes, sorrowful and wistful, yet with a child ish eagerness in them. Figure, half a woman half a child; face, a dream of tender, saddened, sorrowful loveliness."

Cinderella pictured? My most eloquent and | if we would but pity them more ourselves there poetical President, success to your search for her!"

But

would be little need for such a prayer. Wilson Barstow was not one of that stamp, and though he had no more dollars than artists usually have, his hands came out of his pockets more than once that morning in answer to some sorrowful plea for charity.

Mr. Wilson Barstow, "Prospective President He had almost forgotten his picture in other of the National Academy," as Maggie saucily thoughts wakened by the sight of the want and styled him, donned his hat and warm over-coat suffering round him, and was wandering on in - as he spoke, and feeling comfortably protected altogether too abstracted a manner for a busy against the sharp north wind that was careering city-street, pondering vaguely some grand plan about the streets-peeping under thin shawls, for making all these poor wretches comfortable and searching shabby, out-at-elbow great-coats, and happy. In the midst of his reveries he was for a good place to bite-started out for a walk. suddenly interrupted by finding himself coming He had no particular object in view, unless in collision with somebody else apparently as exercise, maybe; but he felt too idle to paint self-absorbed as himself. It was a young girl, that morning, and had, besides, a sort of ro- and a very fair one too-the artist saw that in mantic idea of hunting up a Cinderella for his his hasty glimpse of her face as she hurried on, favorite picture. It was one begun a long time blushing at his apologies for the accident. He ago-a simple thing, Cinderella, and her god-turned round involuntarily to look after her, for mother fitting her up for the ball. But the that one glance made him want to see more. artist had made it a sort of pet for his leisure She was hurrying on at a quick pace, and sudhours, painting on it at intervals only, and lay-denly obeying an impulse, which he did not stop ing it aside as often as duty or fancy led to something else. It was finished now, all but the figure of the heroine, and this had been painted in and painted out a number of times, for he never could satisfy himself with his labor. He could not give expression to his idea, and nowhere could he see such a face as he wanted.

Maggie made great fun of the Cinderella, and "his high-flown ideas," as she called them, about it. She called him foolish to care so much for "such a baby-picture," and in her heart thought it a shame that he should waste his genius-which Maggie, proud little woman! considered unrivaled-upon any thing so silly as a fairy tale. But Wilson Barstow, true and earnest artist though he was, was not at all ashamed of using his pencil in illustration of the sweet old story; and he knew that could he finish his own picture according to his original conception, it would be, if one of the simplest, nevertheless one of the most graceful and charming that he had ever created.

He drew his coat closely up about his ears as he trod briskly over the snowy pavement; for that keen north wind was most impertinently curious, and if fingers or ears chanced to be uncovered, or a bit of neck or throat unprotected by the wrappings, he was sure to be prying around them with his frosty stinging breath. Our artist had no mind to make further acquaintance with the inquisitive blusterer, so he strode along with hands buried in the deep pockets of his coat, and its spacious collar muffling throat and ears, pitying heartily, as he enjoyed the comfort of his own warm garments, every one else less fortunate than himself. And of these he saw enough; one need not go far in the streets of New York of a winter's day to look for unfortunates. They stand at every corner, cold, hungry, and miserable; and we pass them by crying, "God pity them!" when

to define, Wilson forsook his own course, and followed after the girl. She was very plainly, even scantily dressed for the severity of the weather; her clean-looking but too thin shawl seemed more suitable for an April day than for mid-winter, and her dress, of some cotton fabric, did not at all answer Wilson's ideas of warmth and comfort.

So young and girlish-looking she was too, her figure so slender and delicate; and the wind, as it met her, rudely blew backward from her face a cluster of soft bright curls of the very golden hue that the artist wished for his picture. "My Cinderella!" was the thought that flashed into his mind, as his quick eye caught the glitter of the golden curls before they were hastily drawn back again and prisoned under the coarse straw bonnet. And with a new interest he continued to follow her, wondering who and what she was, and what was the object of her cold walk; and wishing he could get a closer view of the face, that one glimpse of which had so fascinated him.

So he followed her for many a square down the long busy thoroughfare; she keeping the same swift pace, never turning or stopping, and Wilson laughing at himself for his eager pursuit of a stranger. "I wonder what Maggie would say," he thought; "how she would laugh at me for following a poor shop-girl in the street! No matter though, the girl really has beautiful hair, and I am curious to see where she goes. I hope she will come to a terminus pretty soon, though, for being a lazy man, this sort of walking is rather too exciting!"

Perhaps she divined Mr. Wilson Barstow's wishes, for just at this point of his soliloquy the young girl paused before the door of a large clothing establishment, and went in. Wilson waited a minute or two outside, and then followed her in, apologizing to himself for his impertinence by suddenly feeling the need of a new vest, or cravat, or something else, he didn't