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entered the ravine. An almost perpendi- | dizzy height that peered through the mist cular wall or bank ascended on each side till she could no longer see, and her eyes to the height of one hundred feet, com- filled with tears. posed of rocks and crags, fretted by decay Who but a woman can tell the feelings and storm into fantastic shapes and posi- of a woman's heart ? Fear came thick tions. A few scattered bushes and trees and fast upon the reeling brain of Hannah. sought nourishment from the earth that “Oh, my boy-my brave boy will die !" had fallen from the level above, and and wringing her hands in agony, she excepting their assistance, and the unseen sank at her husband's feet. The pain of surface of the rock, this natural fort “ hope deferred had strained her heartseemed inaccessible but to bird and strings to the utmost tension, and it beast. About an eighth of a mile from seemed as if the rude hand of despair had the entrance, a cataract closed the gorge, broken them all. The terrified husband throwing up its white veil of mist in seem- threw water upon her pale face, and strove ing guardianship of the spirit waters. The by all the arts he knew to win her back to verdant boughs hanging over the bank life. At last she opened her languid eyes, cast a deep bloom upon the bed below, stared wildly around, and rose trembling while so lofty was the distance, they seemed to her feet As she stood like a heart. to grow up to the sky. Blue patches of broken Niobe, “all tears,” a fragment of water were seen peeping between them. rock came tumbling down the opposite

Hannah soon missed her boy, but as he bank. She looked up--she was herself had often wandered in the fields where his again, for half up the ascent stood her own father was at work, she concluded he must dear boy. be there, and checked coming fears with But even while the glad cry was issuing the hope that he would return at the hour from her lips it turned into a note of of dinner. When it came, neither Josiah horror. “Oh, mercy, mercy!” The crag nor any of his men knew where he was. on which the boy stood projected from the Then the agitated mother exclaimed rock in such a way as to hang about twelve “He's lost-he's lost! my poor boy will feet over the bank. Right below one of starve in the woods !"

the edges of the crag, partly concealed Gathering courage, she hastily sum- among soine bushes, crouched a panther

. moned the family around her, and de- The bold youth was aware of the proximity spatched them all but her husband to of his parents and the presence of his dansearch in different directions in the neigh-gerous enemy at about the same time. He 3 bouring forest. To her husband she said had rolled down the stone in exultation, to -“Scour every field you call your own, convince his parents of the high station he and if you can't find him, join me in had attained, and he now stood with another the gorge.”

“He wouldn't go to the in his hand, drawing it back, and looking at gorge, Hannah ? » “ He would go any. them as if to ask whether he should throw it where.” She knew not why, but a pre- at the terrible animal before him. Till then sentiment that her boy had followed the the mother stood immovable in her suscourse of the stream dwelt strongly on her | pense; but, conscious of the danger of her mind.

son if he irritated the beast, she rushed some “I can't find him, Hannah,” said the distance up the rock. Yet, with the fearhusband, as he joined her at the mouth of less mind of childhood, and a temper little the gorge. An eagle flew past the mother used to control, he fearlessly threw the as she entered the ravine. She thought fragment with all his might at the feroci ling to herself, “ The dreadful birds are tearing ous animal. It struck one of his feet. He my child to pieces ;” and, frantic, she gave a sudden growl, lashed his tail with hastened on, making the walls of the fury, and seemed about to spring. “Get ravine echo back her screams for her your rifle, Josiah!” The poor man stirred offspring The only answer was the not. His glazed eye was fixed with a look eternal thunder of the boiling cataract

, of death upon the panther, and he appeared which, as if in mockery of her woe, threw paralysed with fear. His wife leaped from its cold spray upon her hot and throbbing the stand, and, placing her hands upon temples. She strained her eyes along the her husband's shoulders, looked into his

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son.

The rocks crumbled and slipped beneath her feet, yet she fell not. On, on she struggled in her agony. The ferocious creature paused a moment when he heard the wretched mother approach. True to his nature, he sprang at the boy. He barely touched the crag, and fell backward, as Hannah ascended the opposite side. "Ah!" said she, laughing deliriously, "the panther must try it again before he parts us, my boy; but we won't part." And sinking on her knees before him, she fondly folded him to her breast, bathing his young forehead with her tears. Unaltered in his ferocity, and his manner of gratifying it, the panther again sprang from his situation. This time he was more successful. His forefoot struck the edge of the crag. "He will kill us, mother! he will kill us!" and the boy nestled close to his mother's bosom. The animal struggled to bring his body to the crag-his savage features but a step from the mother's face. "Go away, go away," shrieked the mother, hoarse with horror; 66 'you sha'n't have my child!" Closer, still closer he came his red eyes flashing fury, and the thick pantings of his breath came in her very face. At this awful moment she hears the faint report of fire-arms coming from the gulf below-the panther's foothold fails, his sharp claws loosen from the rock, and the baffled beast rolls down the precipice at the feet of Josiah Eaton.

The sun's last rays gleamed on the little group at the mouth of the gorge. They were on their knees-the mother's hands raised over the head of her son, and the voice of prayer going to their Guardian for His mercy in thwarting the panther's leap.

FEMALE ATTIRE.

THE style of ladies' dress which now prevails, has been much spoken against of late. An English writer defends it, however, declaring it to be, " upon the whole, in as favourable a state as the most vehement advocate for what is called nature and simplicity could desire. It is a costume in which they can dress quickly, walk nimbly, eat plentifully, stoop easily, loll gracefully, and, in short, perform all the duties of life without let or hindrance. The head is left to its natural size, the skin to its native purity, the waist at its proper region, the heels at their real level. The dress is one calculated to bring out the natural beauties of the person, and each of them has, as far as we see, fair play. In former days, what was known of a woman's hair in the cap of Henry the Eighth's time; or of her forehead under her hair in George the Third's time; or of the fall of her shoulders in a welt or wing in Queen Elizabeth's time; or of the slenderness of her throat in a gorget of Edward the First's time; or of the shape of her arm in a great bishop sleeve even in her own time? Now-a-days all these points receive full satisfaction for past neglect; and a woman breaks upon us in such a plenitude of charms, that we hardly know where to begin the catalogue. Hair light as silk, in floating curls, or massive as marble in shining coils. Forehead bright and smooth as mother-of-pearl, and arched in matchless symmetry by its own beautiful drapery. Ear, which for centuries had lain concealed, set on the side of the head, like a delicate shell. Throat, a lovely stalk, leading the eye upward to a lovelier flower, and downward along a fair sloping ridge, undulating in the true line of beauty, to the polished precipice of the shoulder, whence, from the pendant calix of the shortest possible sleeves, hangs a lovely branch, smooth and glittering like pale pink coral, slightly curved towards the figure, and terminating in five taper petals, pinker still, folding and unfolding at your own sweet will,' and especially contrived by Nature to pick your heart clean to the bone, before you know what you are about."

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ALICE FAY.

Sipping out of Lethe's chalice, could I cease to dream of Alice?

Not till all the past is blotted could I banish Alice Fay.

Fond of mischief was my Alice, but the minx was void of malice,

And the well of deep affection sparkled o'er with bubbles gay.

Through the leaves the sky is broken, in a thousand fragments broken,

And they glimmer in the moonlight, in the silver moonlight gleam,

Till they show a certain token, in a language sweetly spoken,

Of the light in eyes where archness hideth half the fonder beam.

In the breeze they stir and quiver, like the ripples on the river,

Like the lovely stars they twinkle, like the happy stars they smile: With the light uncertain quiver, that delights the saucy giver

When he kisseth maiden Mischief by the olden trysting stile.

All around the zephyrs playing, with the golden hours a-maying,

To and fro the graceful branches; to and fro the branches play;

And I see the pliant swaying, when the lovely Alice straying,

Free as breeze, and fresh as zephyr, gathered violets in May.

Like Aurora's fingers rosy, like the rosebuds in a

posy,

Were the tips of Alice's fingers, were the taper finger tips; And confounded with the posy, May-buds, tiny all and cosy,

They are nestling 'mid the flowers where a bee in silence sips.

When the leaves are thick above me, when the stars do seem to love me,

Thus it is in summer morning, thus it is in summer night,

Fairy memories do move me, and descending from above me,

Comes the spirit of my Alice, shedding over me its light.

SWEDISH MOTHER'S HYMN.

There sitteth a dove so white and fair,
All on the lily spray,

And she listens how to Jesus Christ,
The little children pray.
Lightly she spreads her friendly wings,
And to heaven's gate hath sped,
And unto the Father in Heaven she bears
The prayers which the children have said.

And back she comes from Heaven's gate,
And brings-that dove so mild-

From the Father in heaven who hears her speak,
A blessing on every child.

Then children lift up a pious prayer,

It bears whatever you say

To that heavenly dove, so white and fair,
All on the lily spray.

FOOD FOR INVALIDS.

BY MRS. HALE.

ONE of the loveliest accomplishments of a lady is to understand how to make the invalid in her family comfortable. Food prepared by the kind hand of a wife, mother, sister, friend, has a sweeter relish than the mere ingredients can give, and a restorative power which money cannot purchase. These receipts will enable the watchful attendant to vary the food, as choice or symptoms may render expedient. Jellies and meat broths, together with the various kinds of farinaceous food, are the lightest on the stomach, as well as generally the most nutritious for an invalid. Milk preparations are useful when the lungs are weak. Food that the stomach can digest without distressing the patient is the kind that gives actual strength.

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Tapioca. Choose the largest sort, pour cold water on to wash it two or three times; then soak it in fresh water five or six hours, and simmer it in the same until it becomes quite clear; then put lemon juice, wine, and sugar. The peel should have been boiled in it. It thickens very much.

Sago.-Cleanse it by first soaking it an hour in cold water, and then washing it in fresh water. To a teacupful add a quart of water and a bit of lemon-peel, simmer it till the berries are clear, season it with wine and spice, and boil it all up together. The sago may be boiled with milk instead of water, till reduced to one-half, and served without seasoning.

Sago Milk. Cleanse as above, and boil it slowly, and wholly with new milk. It swells so much, that a small quantity will be sufficient for a quart, and when done it will be diminished to about a pint. It requires no sugar or flavouring.

Ground Rice Milk.-Boil 1 spoonful of ground rice, rubbed down smooth, with 1 pint of milk, a bit of cinnamon, lemon-peel and nutmeg. Sweeten when nearly done.

Restorative Milk. Boil a quarter of an ounce of isinglass in a pint of new milk till reduced to

half, and sweeten.

Suet Milk.-Cut one ounce of mutton or veal suet into shavings, and warm it slowly over the fire in a pint of milk, adding a little grated lemonpeel, cinnamon, and loaf-sugar.

Imitation of Asses' Milk.-Boil together equal quantities of new milk and water; sweeten with white sugarcandy, and strain.

Or,-Stir into a gill each of milk and boiling water a well-beaten egg, and sweeten with white sugarcandy.

Barley Milk.-Boil half a pound of washed pearl barley in 1 quart of milk and half a pint of water, and sweeten: boil it again, and drink it when almost cold.

Baked Milk-Is much recommended for consumptions. The milk should be put into a moderately-warm oven, and be left in it all night.

Calves' Feet and Milk.-Put into a jar two calves' feet with a little lemon-peel, cinnamon, or mace, and equal quantities of milk and water to cover them; tie over closely, and set in a slack oven for about 3 hours; when cold, take off the fat; and sweeten and warm as required.

Sheep's Trotters.-Simmer 6 sheep's trotters, 2 blades of mace, a little cinnamon, lemon-peel, a few hartshorn shavings, and a little isinglass, in 2 quarts of water to 1; when cold, take off the fat, and give nearly half a pint twice a day,

warming with it a little new milk.

Isinglass. Boil 1 oz. of isinglass shavings, 40 Jamaica peppers, and a bit of brown crust of bread, in a quart of water, to a pint, and strain it. This makes a pleasant jelly to keep in the house; of which a large spoonful may be taken in wine and water, milk, tea, soup, or any way most agreeable.

Gloucester Jelly.-Boil in 2 quarts of water till reduced to 1 quart, the following ingredients: hartshorn shavings, isinglass, barley and rice, one ounce of each. When this jelly, which is light and very nourishing, is to be taken, a few tablespoonfuls of it must be dissolved in a little

milk, together with a bit of cinnamon, lemonpeel, and sugar. It will be very good without the seasoning.

Bread Jelly.-Cut the crumb of a penny roll into thin slices, and toast them equally of a pale brown; boil them gently in a quart of water till it will jelly, which may be known by putting a little in a spoon to cool; strain it upon a bit of lemon-peel, and sweeten it with sugar.

Rice Jelly. Boil half a pound of rice, and a small piece of cinnamon, in two quarts of water, for one hour; pass it through a sieve, and when cold it will be a firm jelly, which, when warmed in milk and sweetened, will be very nutritious; add 1 pint of milk to the rice, in the sieve, boil it for a short time, stirring it constantly, strain it, and it will resemble thick milk, if eaten warm.

Strengthening Jelly.-Simmer in 2 quarts of soft-water, 1 ounce of pearl barley, 1 ounce of sago, 1 ounce of rice, till reduced to one quart; take a teacupful in milk, morning, noon, and night.

Hemp-seed Jelly.-Bruise hemp-seeds, boil them in water and strain; afterwards, simmer the liquor until it is of the thickness of gruel.

Tapioca Jelly.-Wash the tapioca, soak it for three hours in cold water, in which simmer it till dissolved with a piece of thin lemon-peel; then sweeten, and take out the peel before using.

To make Panada in five minutes.-Set a little water on the fire with some sugar, and a scrape of nutmeg and lemon-peel; meanwhile grate some crumbs of bread. The moment the mixture boils up, keeping it still on the fire, put the crumbs in, and let it boil as fast as it can. When of a proper thickness just to drink, take it off.

Or,-Put to the water a bit of lemon-peel, mix the crumbs in, and, when nearly boiled enough, put some lemon or orange syrup. Observe to boil all the ingredients, for, if any be added after, the panada will break and not jelly.

Chicken Panada.-Boil a chicken, till about three-parts ready, in a quart of water; take off the skin, cut the white meat off when cold, and put into a marble mortar; pound it to a paste with a little of the water it was boiled in, season with salt, a grate of nutmeg, and the least bit of lemon-peel. Boil gently for a few minutes to the consistency you like; it should be such as you can drink, though tolerably thick. This conveys great nourishment in a small compass.

Sippets. When the stomach will not receive meat, are very nutritious, and prepared in this simple manner :-On an extremely hot plate, put two or three sippets (small square pieces) of bread, and pour over them some gravy, from beef, mutton, or veal, with which no butter has been mixed. Sprinkle a little salt over.

Broths of Beef, Mutton, and Veal.-Put 2 lbs. of lean beef, 1 lb. of scrag of veal, 1 lb. of scrag of mutton, sweet herbs, and 10 peppercorns, into a nice tin saucepan, with 5 quarts of water; simmer to 3 quarts, and clear off the fat when cold. Add 1 onion, if approved. Soup or broth made of different meats is more supporting, as well as better flavoured. To remove the fat, take it off when cold as clean as possible; and if there be still any remaining, lay a bit of clean blottingpaper on the broth when in the basin, and it will take up every particle. Or, if the broth is wanted

before there is time to let it get cold, put a piece of cork up the narrow end of a funnel, pour the broth into it, let it stand for a few minutes, and the fat will rise to the top; remove the cork, and draw off in a basin as much of the broth as is wanted, which will be perfectly free from fat.

For a quick-made Broth.-Take a bone or two of a neck or loin of mutton, take off the fat and skin, set it on the fire in a small tin saucepan that has a cover, with three-fourths of a pint of water, the meat being first beaten and cut in this bits; put a bit of thyme and parsley, and, if approved, a slice of onion. Let it boil very quickly; skim it; take off the cover if likely to be too weak, else cover it. Half an hour is sufficient for the whole process.

Calf's Feet Broth.-Boil 2 calf's feet, 2 ozs. of veal, and 2 of beef, the bottom of a penny loaf, 2 or 3 blades of mace, half a nutmeg sliced, and a little salt, in 3 quarts of water to 3 pints; strain, and take off the fat.

Chicken Broth.-May be made of any young fowl which is afterwards to be brought to table; but the best sort is to be procured from an old cock or hen, which is to be stewed down to rags, with a couple of onions, seasoned with salt and a little whole pepper; skim and strain it.

A Weaker Kind. After taking off the skin and rump, put the body and legs of a fowl, from the white meat of which chicken panada has been made, into the water it was boiled in, with 1 blade of mace, 1 slice of onion, and 10 white peppercorns. Simmer till the broth be of a pleasant flavour.

Beef Tea.-Cut half a pound of lean fresh beef into slices, lay it in a dish, and pour over it a pint of boiling water; cover the dish and let it stand half an hour by the fire, then just boil it up, pour it off clear, and salt it a very little.

Veal Tea-is made in the same way, and Chicken Tea also.

To Drink Cold.-Take 1 lb. of lean beef, clear it from every particle of skin, fat, or sinew, rasp or divide it into very small pieces; then put it into a jar, and pour a quart of boiling water upon it; plunge the jar into a kettle of boiling water, let it stand by the side of the fire, but not near enough to simmer, and allow it to grow cold. Then strain the beef-tea through a muslin sieve, and, if the patient be very delicate, filter it through blotting. paper. This tea is to be taken when cold, and will remain upon the stomach when other nourishment fails; it may be given to infants.

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