haut, forms the eye of the Southern Fish; it is about 30° S. E. of the Y in Aquarius and cannot be mistaken, as it is the only brilliant star in that part of the Heavens. We have now mentioned most of the principal constellations, but we suspect that the ardent curiosity and love of research of our readers will hardly allow them to rest contented with the meagre information thus conveyed, but that they will hasten to seek in the writings of standard authors, such a knowledge of this interesting subject, as the scope of these lectures will not permit us to attempt imparting. They will thus find the truth of Hamlet's statement, "that more things exist in Heaven and Earth, than are dreamed of" in their philosophy. Dragons, Hydras, Serpents and Centaurs, Big Dogs and Little Dogs, Doves, Coons and Ladies' Hair, will be exhibited to their admiring gaze, and they will also have their attention directed to the remarkable constellation Phoenix (named for an ancestor of the present Johannes, but not in the least resembling him, or the family portraits), to which the modesty of the author has merely permitted him to make this brief allusion. On the subject of Comets, we should have desired to make a lengthy dissertation; but Professor Silliman in his late efforts to throw light upon it, has decided that these bodies are nothing but Gas; which sets the matter at rest forever, and renders discussion useless.

The lecture now closes, with an exhibition of the " Phantasmagoria" (which is the scientific name of a tin Magic Lantern), showing the various Heavenly Bodies tranquilly revolving round the Sun, perfectly undisturbed by the ex

travagant motions of these rampant comets, continually crossing their paths in orbits of impossible eccentricity, while the organ, slowly turned by the Professor with one hand (the other imparting motion to the planets), emits in plaintive tones that touching melody the "Low Backed Car," giving an excruciating and probably correct idea of the "Music of the Spheres," which nobody ever heard, and, therefore, the correctness of the imitation cannot be disputed. This portion of the entertainment should be continued as long as possible, as the author has observed, it never fails to give great satisfaction to the audience; any exhibition requiring a darkened room, being a "" sure card" of attraction in a community where there are many young people, which accounts for the wonderful success of Banvard's Panorama. Should the Professor's arm become wearied before the audience are entirely satisfied, it is easy to disperse them, by the simple process of shutting down the slide, stopping the organ, and inducing a small boy, by a trifling pecuniary compensation, to holla Fire! in the vicinity of the lecture room.

The author acknowledges the receipt of "An Astronomical Poem" from a "Young Observer," commencing

"Oh, if I had a telescope with fourteen slides,”

with the modest request that he would "introduce" it in his second lecture; but the detestable attempt of the "Young Observer" to make "slides" rhyme with "Pleiades" in the second line, and the fearful pun in the thirty-seventh verse, on "the Meteor by moonlight alone," compel him to decline

the introduction. The manuscript will be returned to the author, on making known his real name, and engaging to destroy it immediately.

A LEGEND OF THE TEHAMA HOUSE.

CHAPTER I.

It was evening at the Tehama. The apothecary, whose shop formed the south-eastern corner of that edifice, had lighted his lamps, which, shining through those large glass bottles in the window, filled with red and blue liquors, once supposed by this author, when young and innocent, to be medicine of the most potent description, lit up the faces of the passers-by with an unearthly glare, and exaggerated the general redness and blueness of their noses. Within the office the hands of the octagonal clock, which looked as though it had been thrown against the wall in a moist state and stuck there, pointed to the hour of eight. The apartment was nearly deserted. Frink, "the courteous and gentlemanly manager,' and the Major, had gone to the Theatre; having season tickets, they felt themselves forced to attend, and never missed a performance. The coal fire in the office stove glowed with a hospitable warmth, emitting a gentle murmur of welcome to

the expected wayfarers by the Sacramento boats, interrupted only by an occasional deprecatory hiss, when insulted by a stream of tobacco juice. Overcoats hung about the walls, still moist with recent showers; umbrellas reclined lazily in corners; spittoons stood about the floor, the whole diffusing that nameless odor so fascinating to the married man, who, cigar in mouth and hot whiskey punch at elbow, sits nightly until twelve o'clock in the enjoyment of it, while the wife of his bosom in their comfortable home on Powell street, wonders at his absence, and unjustly curses the Know Nothings or the Free and Accepted Masonic Fraternity.

Behind the office desk, perched on a high, three-legged stool, his head supported by both hands, the youthful but literary John Duncan was deeply engaged in the exciting perusal of the last yellow-covered novel, "Blood for Blood, or the Infatuated Dog." He knew that, in a few moments, eightyfour gentlemen "in hot haste," would call to inquire whether the Member of Congress had returned, and was anxious to find out what the "Robber Chieftain" did with the "Lady Maude Alleyne" before the arrival of the Sacramento boat. The only other occupant of the office, was a short, fleshy gentleman with a white hat, dark green coat with brass buttons, drab pantaloons, short punchy little boots and gaiters.

These circumstances might be noted as he stood with his back to the door, gazing intently upon one of those elaborate works of art with which the spirited proprietor has lately seen fit to adorn the walls of the Tehama. It represented a lady in a ball dress, seated on the back of a large dray-horse (at