dizzy height that peered through the mist till she could no longer see, and her eyes filled with tears. Who but a woman can tell the feelings of a woman's heart? Fear came thick and fast upon the reeling brain of Hannah. "Oh, my boy-my brave boy will die!" and wringing her hands in agony, she sank at her husband's feet. The pain of entered the ravine. An almost perpendicular wall or bank ascended on each side to the height of one hundred feet, composed of rocks and crags, fretted by decay and storm into fantastic shapes and positions. A few scattered bushes and trees sought nourishment from the earth that had fallen from the level above, and excepting their assistance, and the unseen surface of the rock, this natural fort" hope deferred" had strained her heartseemed inaccessible but to bird and beast. About an eighth of a mile from the entrance, a cataract closed the gorge, throwing up its white veil of mist in seeming guardianship of the spirit waters. The verdant boughs hanging over the bank cast a deep bloom upon the bed below, while so lofty was the distance, they seemed to grow up to the sky. Blue patches of water were seen peeping between them. Hannah soon missed her boy, but as he had often wandered in the fields where his father was at work, she concluded he must be there, and checked coming fears with the hope that he would return at the hour of dinner. When it came, neither Josiah nor any of his men knew where he was. Then the agitated mother exclaimed "He's lost-he's lost! my poor boy will starve in the woods!" Gathering courage, she hastily summoned the family around her, and despatched them all but her husband to search in different directions in the neighbouring forest. To her husband she said -"Scour every field you call your own, and if you can't find him, join me in the gorge." "He wouldn't go to the gorge, Hannah ? " "He would go anywhere." She knew not why, but a presentiment that her boy had followed the course of the stream dwelt strongly on her mind. "I can't find him, Hannah," said the husband, as he joined her at the mouth of the gorge. An eagle flew past the mother as she entered the ravine. She thought to herself, "The dreadful birds are tearing my child to pieces;" and, frantic, she hastened on, making the walls of the ravine echo back her screams for her offspring. The only answer was the eternal thunder of the boiling cataract, which, as if in mockery of her woe, threw its cold spray upon her hot and throbbing temples. She strained her eyes along the strings to the utmost tension, and it seemed as if the rude hand of despair had broken them all. The terrified husband threw water upon her pale face, and strove by all the arts he knew to win her back to life. At last she opened her languid eyes, stared wildly around, and rose trembling to her feet As she stood like a heartbroken Niobe, "all tears," a fragment of rock came tumbling down the opposite bank. She looked up--she was herself again, for half up the ascent stood her own dear boy. But even while the glad cry was issuing from her lips it turned into a note of horror. "Oh, mercy, mercy!" The crag on which the boy stood projected from the rock in such a way as to hang about twelve feet over the bank. Right below one of the edges of the crag, partly concealed among some bushes, crouched a panther. The bold youth was aware of the proximity of his parents and the presence of his dangerous enemy at about the same time. He had rolled down the stone in exultation, to convince his parents of the high station he had attained, and he now stood with another in his hand, drawing it back, and looking at them as if to ask whether he should throw it at the terrible animal before him. Till then the mother stood immovable in her suspense; but, conscious of the danger of her son if he irritated the beast, she rushed some distance up the rock. Yet, with the fearless mind of childhood, and a temper little used to control, he fearlessly threw the fragment with all his might at the ferocious animal. It struck one of his feet. He gave a sudden growl, lashed his tail with fury, and seemed about to spring. "Get your rifle, Josiah!" The poor man stirred not. His glazed eye was fixed with a look of death upon the panther, and he appeared paralysed with fear. His wife leaped from the stand, and, placing her hands upon her husband's shoulders, looked into his face and said "Are you a man, Josiah Eaton? Do you love your child?" He started as if from sleep, and ran with furious haste from the ravine. son. Again the mother looked towards her son. He had fallen upon his knees, and was whispering the little prayers which she had taught him, not in cowardly fear, but a thought came across his mind that he must die. The distracted mother could keep still no longer. She rushed up the steep ascent with the energy of despair, reckless of danger, thinking only of her 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. 66 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; '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. 66 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." TO THE OLD YEAR. What of the dim and vanish'd year, Through the long vista of its hours, We sought no radiance in its flowers, Time is the heart's historian, Its records sternly read, Earth hath its weary partings still, What mocking tones of memory fill Who would live on unsought, unknown, The winter wind hath not a moan But now some living voice hath fill'd A joyous voice that ever thrill'd We bend above the dreamy lore, Upon the altars of the past, Those visionary shrines! A thousand thoughts are crowding fast The past!-that with its haunting words Thralls with unnumber'd nameless chords Though dimly on our changeful doom, We look beyond the world's cold gloom, 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 SWEDISH MOTHER'S HYMN. There sitteth a dove so white and fair, And she listens how to Jesus Christ, Then children lift up a pious prayer, It bears whatever you say To that heavenly dove, so white and fair, 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. To make Gruel.-Mix a dessert spoonful of fine oatmeal or patent groats, in two of cold water, add a pint of boiling water, and boil it 10 minutes, keeping it stirred. Or,-boil a quarter of a pint of groats in a quart of water for about 2 hours, and strain through a sieve. Stir into the gruel a small piece of butter, and some sugar, nutmeg, or ginger, grated; or, if it be not sweetened, add a small pinch of salt. Barley Gruel.-Wash 4 ozs. of pearl-barley; boil it in 2 quarts of water with a stick of cinnamon, till reduced to a quart; strain and return it into the saucepan with sugar and three-fourths of a pint of milk. Heat up, and use as wanted. Flour Caudle.-Mix, smoothly, a tablespoonful of flour with a gill of water; set on the fire in a saucepan a gill of new milk, sweeten it, and, when it boils, add the flour and water; simmer and stir them together for a quarter of an hour. White Caudle.-Make the gruel as above, strain through a sieve, and stir it till cold. When to be used, sweeten it to taste, grate in some nutmeg, and add a little white wine; a little lemonpeel or juice is sometimes added. The yolk of an egg, well beaten, may likewise be stirred in when the gruel is boiling. Rice Caudle. This may be made with water or milk; when it boils, add some ground rice, previously mixed smoothly with a little cold water; boil till thick enough, when sweeten it, and grate in nutmeg, or add a little powdered cinnamon. Arrow-root.-It is very necessary to be careful not to get the counterfeit sort; if genuine, it is very nourishing, especially for persons with weak bowels. Put into a saucepan half a pint of water, grated nutmeg, and fine sugar; boil up once, then mix it by degrees into a dessert-spoonful of arrowroot, previously rubbed smooth with 2 spoonfuls of cold water. Or, Mix a dessert-spoonful of arrowroot, with a little cold water, have ready boiling water in a kettle, pour it upon the arrowroot until it becomes quite clear, keeping it stirred all the time; add a little sugar. Where milk may be taken, it is very delicious made in the same way with milk instead of water, a dessert-spoonful of arrowroot, and half a pint of milk; add a small bit of lemon-peel. 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 It thickens very much. have been boiled in it. 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 inilk 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. Eggs.-An egg broken into a cup of tea or beaten and mixed with a basin of milk, makes a breakfast more supporting than tea alone. An egg divided, and the yolk and white beaten separately, will afford two very wholesome draughts. and prove lighter than when taken together Eggs very little boiled, or poached, taken in small quantities, convey much nourishment; the yolk only, when dressed, should be eaten by invalids. Stew for Persons in Weak Health.-Cut real into slices, and put them into an earthen jar, with sliced turnips, and a little salt; cover closely, set the jar up to the neck in boiling water, and stew till the meat is tender. |
