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Attentive Athens caught the sound,
And all her listening sons around
In awful silence stood.

Reclaim'd, her wild licentious youth
Confess'd the potent voice of truth,
And felt its just control:
The passions ceased their loud alarms,
And virtue's soft, persuasive charms
O'er all their senses stole.

Thy breath inspires the poet's song,
The patriot's free unbiass'd tongue,
The hero's generous strife:
Thine are retirement's silent joys,
And all the sweet, endearing ties
Of still, domestic life!

No more to fabled names confined,
To thee, supreme, all-perfect Mind,

My thoughts direct their flight: Wisdom's thy gift, and all the force From thee derived, unchanging source Of intellectual light!

Oh! send her sure, her steady ray,
To regulate my doubtful way

Through life's perplexing road:
The mists of error to control,
And through its gloom direct my soul
To happiness and good!

Beneath her clear discerning eye,
The visionary shadows fly,
Of folly's painted show:
She sees, through every fair disguise,
That all, but virtue's solid joys,
Is vanity and woe.


Her chief original prose compositions were letters, and two numbers in the Rambler," Nos. 44 and 100. The former consists of an allegory, wherein religion and superstition are contrasted in a most admirable manner.

ON THE USE AND ABUSE OF AMUSEMENTS. It were unjust and ungrateful to conceive that the amusements of life are altogether forbid by its beneficent Author. They serve, on the contrary, important purposes in the economy of human life, and are destined to produce important effects both upon our happiness and character. They are, in the first place, in the language of the Psalmist, "the wells of the desert;' the kind resting-places in which toil may relax, in which the weary spirit may recover its tone, and where the desponding mind may resume its strength and its hopes. It is not, therefore, the use of the innocent amusements of life which is dangerous, but the abuse of them: it is not when they are occasionally, but when they are constantly pursued; and when, from being an occasional indulgence, it becomes an habitual desire.



STEPHEN. Oh! papa, what can be the use of collecting paving-stones?

PAPA. Why this piece of paving-stone is a very nice bit of a rock, called granite, and contains a mineral called tourmaline. If you will look at it you will find three other substances in it-felspar, quartz, and mica; all the substances composing the crust, for each are divided into two great groups, the stratified and the unstratified. This granite is one of the unstratified rocks.

WILLIE. But, papa, the earth has not got a crust, has it?

PAPA. Oh, yes, our earth is just a big globe of melted matter, cooled on the outside. Now this cooled outside is called the crust, and we live on it; perhaps it is not more than one hundred miles thick.

WILLIE. Oh! how strange; but, papa, how do you know, for nobody has ever been inside?

STEPHEN. Yes, and why don't we feel the heat through?

PAPA. Well, one at once. No one has ever been down lower than perhaps the th part of the depth; but, you know, there are such places as coal-pits, and other deep shafts. Now, it is found, by careful experiments, that the temperature increases as we descend into the interior of these mines, to the extent of about 1° of Fahrenheit for every fifty-four feet of vertical depth. In some mines in Northumberland it is 1° for every forty-four feet, so that if the rate of increase be constant, there would, at a depth of sixty thousand feet, be a low, red heat; and at a depth of one hundred miles, everything there will be in a fused state. So you see, that although no one has ever been there, yet, by a little observation, we can ascertain the probable condition of the earth's centre. And now, Stephen, with reference to what you said, I will just mention a fact to you, and you can form your own ideas on the subject; but I will be glad to tell you more about it another time. The fact is this, that a thickness of half an inch of clay and sand intercepted the heat of a mass of eleven tons of white, hot, melted cast-iron, for twenty minutes, without the heat on the


outside of the vessel being sufficient to pain the hand.

STEPHEN. Well, I understand that; but what is a stratified rock?

PAPA. The word stratified just means made in layers, and a stratified rock is one that has been so formed. Suppose you take a glass of muddy water, and let it stand for an hour or two, what happens?

WILLIE. Why, the mud sinks to the


PAPA. Exactly so. Well, every river

when it falls into the ocean carries down a quantity of mud. This mud, by its own specific gravity being heavier than that of water, sinks to the bottom, just as the mud does in the tumbler. Some rivers may carry down sand, others silt, and so on; so that at the bottom of the sea are immense beds of sand, mud, gravel, &c. What happens now has happened in the former ages of our world's history; and all our bits of sandstone, limestone, chalk, have once been exposed to the action of water, and are indeed the beds of ancient seas and oceans. Now these are called stratified rocks-that is to say, have all been formed as sediment from water, and are, consequently, found in layers or strata. Do you understand me?

STEPHEN. Yes, and I think I know now what those shells and petrified snakes are that you have up-stairs.

PAPA. Well, what are they?

STEPHEN. Why, they are shells of animals that lived in the seas and oceans which made the mud which has since become stratified rock; and suppose the snakes must have lived on the land.

PAPA. Your theory about the shells is correct; but what you call snakes are shells also-called ammonites.

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words ge and logos, and means something said, or a discourse about the earth. Geography means something written about the earth; but geography only treats of the surface of the globe, while geology embraces inquiries into the inside as well as the outside. You will find your little knowledge of the principal gases, &c., of great value, when I have to explain how rocks are decomposed and remade-how coal has been formed-and how shells and bones have become altered.

WILLIE. What is coal, papa ?

PAPA. Coal is all made up of decayed plants; but I'll tell you more about coal byand-by, and I will also, when we next have a conversation on geology, pursue some method, and talk only of one subject. I think that the agencies modifying the crust of the globe will be an interesting topic for a little conversation.

STEPHEN. Do you mean, papa, those causes which wear down rocks and so on?

PAPA. Yes. If you think over the subject, you will be better prepared for what I may have to tell you. WILLIE. Thank you, papa. I'll try, too, and brother Stephen will help me, but I wish you would let sister Mary join us. I'm sure she would be pleased?

PAPA. Very well, bring her too.

THE GOOD MAN.-A good man lives to his own heart. He thinks it not good, manners to slight the world's opinion; though he will regard it only in the second place. A good man will look upon every accession of power to do good as a new trial to the integrity of his heart. A good man, though he will value his own countrymen, yet will think as highly of the worthy men of every nation under the sun. A good man is a prince of the Almighty's creation. A good man will not engage even in a national cause, without examining the justice of it. How much more glorious a character is that of the friend of mankind, than that of the conqueror of nations? The heart of a worthy man is ever on his lips; he will be pained when he cannot speak all that is in it. An impartial spirit will admire goodness or greatness wherever he meets it, and whether it makes for or against him.

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Materials.-Pink silk, a few skeins of white sewing silk, white sarsenet ribbon, of an inch wide. Muslin and flannel.

THIS very pretty and comfortable little shoe is to be embroidered entirely in chain-stitch. The pattern is given so clearly in the engraving, that no difficulty can occur in drawing it. It must be marked on the silk in the ordinary manner. The size of the shoe must be suitable for the child, and a paper pattern should first be prepared, of a very ample size, as the quilted lining of the shoe takes up a considerable space. Mark out the silk, allowing a very ample margin in every direction, making the toe in one piece, the ankle-piece for another, and the sole for the third. Cut out pieces of muslin and flannel to correspond, and quilt them together in small diamonds with sewing


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Work the pattern on the silk; then make up the shoe very neatly, running the sole in parallel lines from heel to toe, taking the needle through the thicknesses of silk, flannel, and muslin.

Bind the upper part of the shoe with a


fine piping cord, covered with silk; and pierce holes for the tie, sewing them round with silk of the same colour as the embroidery.

If gros de Naples is thought too delicate or expensive à material, fine French merino of any pretty colour may be used for this shoe.



Materials.-7 shades of crimson wool, vary. ing from very dark to light, and 2 skeins of maize-coloured crochet silk, with 4 yards of cotton-mat cord. Of the 2 lightest and 3 darkest colours, 1 skein only will be required. Of the others, 2 skeins.

WITH the darkest wool, work a few stitches over the end of the cord, and close it into a round, on which, with the same shade, work another round, increasing sufficiently to keep it flat. Another must be done with the same shade. Join on next tint, and work three rounds with it, increasing sufficiently to make it flat, and making enough stitches to cover the cord completely. With the next shade do three more rounds in the same way. Repeat it also with the 4th shade. With the 5th shade, do only two rounds, and with the sixth and seventh, one will be

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enough. Cut the end of the cord in a slanting direction, so as to terminate it gradually.

Thread a coarse embroidery needle with the maize silk, and work five stitches over the cord of the last round but one, then over the next, and all the others to the centre, not straight down, but in a curved direction, (something like one of the spokes of a Catherine's wheel). Do eight of these curved lines, at equal distances from each other, and all meeting in the


For the border, work over a mesh with the tapestry needle, as in ordinary rug work, taking a double needleful, both of silk and wool. Four stitches are to be taken in silk, immediately opposite the five stitches on the cord; then four of each shade of wool, from the darkest to the lightest, which should occupy the space to the next silk. Cut the edges of the fringe.


IT is a singular fact that a Chinese never drinks cold water, thinks it destructive to health, and hates it. Uncoloured tea is his beverage from morning till night-the essence of the herb drawn out in pure water, and swallowed without milk and sugar. If he travels, he stops in his chair to take his cup, not "his glass." If he pays a visit, he is offered tea; if he receives a visitor, he proffers it. Before dinner he takes his tea as the French take oysters-as a zest. After dinner, he sips his tea as a Scotchman takes his whiskey-as a digester. This is done not only without injuring their stomachs, but with positive advantage to their bodily health and general comfort. Yet, Englishmen will swallow tea, go to bed, turn and toss, keep awake, get up, complain of unstrang nerves and weak

digestion, and visit the doctor, who shakes his head, and solemnly says, "Tea!" This is what he says; but what he means, if he has given attention to the subject, is "metallic paint." "Foreigners," say the Chinese, "like to have their tea uniform and pretty," so they poison the leaves for the advantage of the English and American merchants. The Chinese would not think of drinking dyed tea such as we daily imbibe; but the more gypsum and blue he can communicate to the plant, the higher becomes its value in the eyes of the English merchant, and the dyeing process, accordingly, goes on in China to an extent which is actually alarming. In every hundred pounds of coloured green tea consumed in England, more than half a pound of colouring powder, made from blue and gypsum, is contained. The fact is not now made known to the British public for the first time; we therefore hope that this lucrative dyeing trade will decrease in the Celestial Empire. The Chinese may easily regard us with pity and surprise, as the coats of our stomachs may well rebel against the intrusion of so much mineral trash. Our venerable ancestors, the ancient Britons, painted themselves, and lived upon acorns; and we, who live luxuriously, smile at their lamentable ignorance. In one respect, however, the Britons had the advantage of us they painted their stomachs blue, and used the colour only on the outside-not in.-Times' Review of "Fortune's Journey to the Tea Countries of China."

IMPORTANCE OF MORAL EDUCATION. -Under whose care soever a child is put to be taught during the tender and flexible years of his life, this is certain; it should be one who thinks Latin and languages the least part of education; one who, knowing how much virtue and a well-tempered soul is to be preferred to any sort of learning or language, makes it his chief business to form the mind of his scholars, and give that a right disposition; which, if once got, though all the rest should be neglected, would in due time produce all the rest; and which, if it be not got, and settled so as to keep out ill and vicious habits-languages, and sciences, and all the other accomplishments of education, will be to no purpose but to make the worse or more dangerous man.




THIS pet, in whose history you will take great interest, came into my possession when I was about nine years old. I remember the day as plainly as I remember yesterday. I was going home from school, very sad and out of humour with myself, for I had been marked deficient in geography, and had gone down to the very foot in the spellingclass. On the way I was obliged to pass a little old log-house, which stood near the road, and which I generally ran by in a great hurry, as the woman who lived there had the name of being a scold and a sort of a witch. She certainly was a stout, ugly woman, who drank a great deal of cider, and sometimes beat her husband, which was very cruel, as he was a mild, little man, and took good care of the baby while she went to mill. But that day I trudged along carelessly and slowly, for I was too unhappy to be afraid, even of that dreadful woman. Yet I started, and felt my heart beat fast, when she called out to me. "Stop, little girl!" she said; "don't you want this 'ere young cat?" and held out a beautiful white kitten. I ran at once and caught it from her hands, thanking her as well as I could, and started for home, carefully covering pussy's head with my pinafore, lest she should see where I took her, and so know the way back. She was rather uneasy, and scratched my arms a good deal; but I did not mind that, I was so entirely happy in my new pet. When I reached home, and my mother looked more annoyed than pleased with the little stranger, and my father and brothers would take no particular notice of her, I thought they must be very hardhearted indeed, not to be moved by her beauty and innocence. My brother William, however, who was very obliging, and quite a mechanic, made a nice little house, or "cat-cote," as he called it, in the back yard, and put in it some clean straw for her to lie on. I then gave her a plentiful supper of new milk, and put her to bed with my own hands. It was long before

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