of mental relationship, are less likely to be lost, and more apt to render effective service to the mind than if unconnected, for union is strength in this case as in every other. MARY. And I suppose the cultivation of this habit is a strengthening process?

JOHN. Yes, and a means of sharpening the mental eyesight, and a cure for that common complaint, a bad memory; in short, it is the art of keeping all the faculties alive and in action. The mind, under the influence of this power, may be said to keep a note-book for queries requiring solution. For instance, we meet with an allusion to some fact or circumstance with which we are unacquainted; well, instead of carelessly passing over the difficulty, and allowing the remembrance of it to escape us, it is noted down, and, by and by, when pursuing perhaps inquiries on some other subject, we find what we are not looking for, namely, light on the dark point that perplexed us. This, then, is the process by which, link after link, the chain of association is forged.

ANNIE. I think I can illustrate what you have been saying by an instance that occurred to myself, though perhaps you will think it a very simple one.

JOHN. Let us have it, never mind if it is simple.

ANNIE. As I was reading, some time ago, one of Foster's letters, I met with this expression-"I see you have got Rebecca at your gates." Well, I read it over and over again, quite in the dark as to what it referred; but, as you say, I made a mental note of it. Sometime after, while cursorily looking over Milner's History of England, it was recalled to my remembrance together with a full explanation. I found the reference pointed to an insurrectionary movement in the rural districts of Wales, styled "Rebecca and her daughters." It appears the turnpike tolls had long been extravagantly high, and the farmers and peasantry sought redress by destroying the toll-bars through a wide extent of country; the leaders were disguised as women, and took their distinguishing title from the promise respecting the children of Rebecca, that they should possess the gates of their adversaries.

JOHN. Well done, Annie! I'll be bound to say you will not forget Rebecca and her daughters. But I must say farewell!

ELIZABETH H.

NEVER retire at night without being wiser than when you rose in the morning, by having learned something useful during the day.

YOUTH.

PEOPLE speak strangely of a calm and happy youth. Happy indeed it may be, but it has an eager, impulsive happiness, which is anything but calm. Youth is our most unquiet season. There is no rest for heart, or mind, or soul. We plunge eagerly into the active scenes of life, and even in our hours of solitude and bodily repose, Fancy is still busily at work, painting scenes of future exertion. Our passions have all the charms of novelty; none of them have been sated, many but just discovered by us.

Youth is the time for dreams-strange, contradictory, but most beautiful dreams, which, as we advance in life, we are doomed to see depart for ever.

There is the dream of Love-the most bewildering of all youth's dreams. Love when the heart is fresh and young, and strong-before we have loved unworthily, or perchance grown weary of loving-or become cold and hard, so that we cannot love earnest, true, undoubting love-this is youth's first dream.

There is the dream of Ambition-when we could compass a universe-when nothing seems too arduous for us to accomplish. Oh! we can reach the dizziest heights of power -we will "lord it" over a world. But when we live a little longer, we see this proud dream crumble-il faut céder—we are but mortal.

There is the dream of Philanthropywhen we would renovate all mankind. would willingly sacrifice life and health for the good of others. We have the best possible opinion of every one; we are unsuspicious and benevolent; all women seem angels, all men heroes. But we discover that all are not faultless-we are deceived where we had trusted-we see, perhaps, kindness repaid with ingratitude; and often our disappointment brings us to the opposite extreme, and we become misanthropic for a season at least,

And there is the Religion of youth, which is not a dream, but a beautiful reality; the only thing which increases in strength and earnestness as we advance in years, without losing any of its primitive loveliness; the only feeling, be it passion or emotion, with which the heart is never sated. Religion, the soother of youth, the life-giver of age Happy are they who obtain this precious boon to teach them in youth that life should not be idolatrous, or ambition reckless; and in age that moderation should not become coldness, or happiness or content degenerate to apathy.

E.

Fig. 4.

Fig. 2.

As flowers form the chief recreation of the cottager, a place for their protection is the one thing needful, and economy is the order of the day, perhaps it will not be out of place to give a brief outline for the construction of a small greenhouse which I ave seen erected (after the plan of a con

EXTERIOR VIEW.

tribution to the Cottage Gardener) at the trifling cost of six pounds. It is true it could not be built for twice this sum, if you had to pay a professional man to put it together; but, provided you are ingenious enough to do the work yourself, it will not exceed the above amount, as the following outlay for materials will prove, and they are to be had at something like the prices stated, if, indeed, you go to the cheapest market, and I presume you will do so for your own interest sake:

600 sound old bricks, at 3s. 6d. per hundred

Lime, sand, mortar, plastering, &c.

117 feet of deal, 3in. by 14in.,

£ s. d.

1 0

0 10 0

099

0 16 6

060

0 18 6

0 18 0

0 10 0

3 yards of canvas, two yards wide, at 9d. per yard, for blind

Roller and fittings for do. Carriage of materials

£6 0 0

Having dug out the foundation, which should be 11 feet by 7 feet outside, you may proceed with the building as follows: Let the brickwork be, for the back, 7 feet high and 9 inches thick; for the front and sides, 2 feet 4 inches high. The piers

and first row of brickwork 9 inches wide, and between the piers 4 inches in width.

INTERIOR BACK VIEW.

Having completed the brick-work, you must next turn your attention to the framework, which is, of the two, the most difficult; but with the aid of the above diagrams, the work will not only be greatly facilitated, but you will be able to "cut your coat according to your cloth," or, in other words, avoid much waste both in labour and material. The following are the dimensions necessary to be observed:

West end-Back, 4 feet 2 in.; front, 2 feet 5 in.; width, 5 feet 2 in.; Fig. 1.

East end-Back, 4 feet 2 in.; front, 2 feet 5 in.; width, 5 feet 2 in.; door, 18 in.; Fig. 2.

Fig. 3.

Fig. 1.

Front-Height, 2 feet 5 in.; width, 11 feet; with window in centre, 2 feet 8 in. wide; Fig. 3.

Top-7 feet 6 in. by 11 feet, with sliding sash in the centre, 2 feet 8 in. wide; Fig. 4. This, when put together, will give you a

house sufficiently large for ordinary purposes, as it will be found capable of holding some thirty or forty dozen of plants through the winter, a time when the amateur must of necessity loose many, if not all, his plants, without he has some contrivance of this kind to store them in. With a fervent hope, then, that these instructions will enable those of limited incomes to shelter their favourites during the inclement season, and thus give them an opportunity of competing with their more wealthy neighbours in the spring, I now bring my paper to a close, with the full confidence that I shall not only have added to the comfort of those who take a delight in gardening on a small scale, but shall also have been the means of causing them to prove the truth of that good old adage,

"Where there is a will there is a way."

THE URSINE SEAL

THE URSINE SEAL is a polygamist, like the Turk or the Mormon, and the number of wives frequently amounts to fifty. The cubs are usually very active, and are fond of playing and wrestling together. When one has thrown another on the ground, the father comes up growling, toys with the victor, trying to overthrow it, and gives the young animal more and more embraces, the greater the resistance it offers. It is not so attached to the lazy, idle cubs. These usually hang about the mother. All the cubs remain with their parents till they are a year old. The male loves its females and cubs remarkably, but often treats the former with the severity of an Eastern pasha. He will fight for his cubs if you try to take them away, but if a mother neglects to pick up a cub in her mouth, and thus loses it, the father's fury is turned upon her. He seizes her by the teeth, and dashes her several times against a rock. So soon as she has slightly recovered she returns to her lord in a most humble posture, sheds many tears, and crouches at his feet. The male walks up and down, growling, rolling his eyes, and throwing his head about; but if he finds that he has no chance of recovering the cub, he begins weeping too, so violently that the tears fall in drops and wet his breast. When old, the Ursine Seal is deserted by his wives, and spends the rest of his life in solitude, principally in sleeping and fasting, but generally grows very fat, so that he proves the truth of the French proverb, "Qui dort dine."-Life in the Sea, by Lascelles Wraxall.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

AUTUMN STANZAS.

THE brown leaves in showers are falling,
All nature seems doomed to decay,
And a voice from the tomb is heard calling
The bright joys of Summer away.
The woodlands all cheerless are growing,
With the nooks we once loved so well;
While the streamlet is silently flowing,
And sad as a funeral knell."
The easterly winds have bereft us

Of our flow'rets so varied and gay,
And the swift-winged swallows have left us
For the lands of the South, far away.
The robin re-visits us daily,

The song-thrush all mournfully sings,
And no more doth the butterfly gaily
Sail by on its gossamer wings.

Once more are our faggots set burning,
By their side 'tis a treat to remain,
For the hoary old Winter's returning,
And soon will be with us again.
But though the young blossoms are dying,
And Winter comes round in his turn,
We should not be languidly sighing
For things that can never return.

Let us hope there are brighter days near us!
That the flowers that around us decay
Will blossom in Spring-time to cheer us,
And this hope will chase sorrow away.

Tho' the sun 'neath the hills may be sinking,
And Night her dark mantle may fling
O'er the earth, let us only be thinking
Of joys that the morrow will bring.
And thus let us act as we wander

Through life's ever varying scene,
For 'tis useless to mournfully ponder
O'er troublesome things that have been.
Let us gaze on the past but a minute,
Many errors, no doubt, we shall find;
And many a sound lesson in it

We may learn, if we all feel inclined.
As to Winter, let's welcome him hither,
While we trust that the future will bring
Flowers as fair as the host that now wither,
And birds that as sweetly will sing!

POETS' FANCIES.

W. H. H.

THEY come, they come, like midnight dreams
To the young and happy bride;
And to the bonds of love and peace
As closely are allied.

They come at noon, they come at eve,
With the spirit of good-will;
And breasts wherein they germinate
They with happy feelings fill.
Then poets' fancies ne'er despise,
Oft they bear a magic charm
To cheer a stranger or a friend,
And the poet's breast to warm.

CHARLES MARSHALL.

THE MONTHS.

SWIFTLY pass the fleeting months,
Smiling as they go,

Each bequeathing something fair
To this world below.

Spring, with fairy flowers fresh,
Like a child at play,

In frolic kisses the green earth
And quickly flies away.

The Summer, with its pleasant breath,
Brings fragrance o'er the lake;
But soon its bright hours passing by
Bring Autumn in their wake.

The fruits are ripening on the wall,
The corn gilds many a field,
And lusty reapers, swart and strong,
The glitt'ring sickle wield.

But Autumn flies, with golden wings,
And plumes of russet-brown;
King Winter comes enrobed in frost,
With snowstars in his crown.

But Winter, too, must pass away
With all its merry beams,
And all its mirth and all its joys
Will fade like pleasant dreams.
Yet, happy still, we wander on

Like merry babes at play,
And revel in each Season's joys
As each one rolls away.

CYCLAMEN.

THE FUNERAL AT SEA.
DEEP in the briny ocean's bed
We laid him down to rest;
No cloister echoed to our tread;
No mould his coffin prest;
No organ peal, no minster bell
A solemn welcome rang,

The murmuring winds breathed forth his knell,
The waves his requiem sang:

Yet will he sleep as safe and free
In ocean's pearly caves,

As if beneath his favourite tree

Where the green herbage waves;
And wild flowers blossom o'er the tomb
(In hallowed precincts made),
Filling the air with sweet perfume,
When summer sunsets fade.
And though no sculptured marbles rise
Above his ocean grave,

To consecrate the spot he lies,
Perchance each sea-borne wave
That breaks upon the rocky shore
May bear upon its crest
The secret of the tempest's roar,
The loved one's place of rest:
And though we may not ever tell
The language of the sea,
We hear a voice in every shell
Breathing "The hour shall be
When, at the Archangel's trumpet sound,
With solemn, holy dread,

Ocean and earth shall both be found
To render back their dead."

M. W. MERRITT.

CLEANSING THE HAIR.-Nothing but good can be derived from a due attention to cleaning the hair. Our correspondent's objections about loss of hearing, colds, &c., apply to an immoderate use of water. Once a week is perhaps desirable, but this will depend upon the individual; persons with light, thin, and dry hair will require it more seldom than those with thick, greasy hair, or who perspire very freely. Nothing is better than soap and water. The soap should be mild, and well and plentifully rubbed in the hair.

A WIFE'S POWER.-The power of a wife for good or evil, is irresistible. Home must be the seat of happiness, or it must be for ever unknown. A good wife is to a man, wisdom, and courage, and strength, and endurance. A bad one is confusion, weakness, discomfiture, and despair. No condition is hopeless where the wife possesses firmness, decision, and economy. There is no outward prosperity which can counteract indolence, extravagance, and folly at home. No spirit can long endure bad domestic influence. Man is strong, but his heart is not adamant. He delights in enterprise and action; but to sustain him he needs a tranquil mind, and a whole heart. He needs his moral force in the conflicts of the world. To recover his equanimity and composure, home must be to him a place of repose, of peace, of cheerfulness, of comfort; and his soul renews its strength again, and goes forth with fresh vigour to encounter the labour and troubles of life. But if at home he finds no rest, and is there met with bad temper, sullenness, or gloom, or is assailed by discontent or complaint, hope vanishes, and he sinks into despair.

CHEERFULNESS.-We are told, on the highest authority, that the "merry heart is a continual feast," and we know that one of the simplest facts of medical science establishes the conviction of cheerfulness being the best and greatest supporter and promoter of health. May we advise that this beneficial cheerfulness should be cultivated as a family virtue. By its means health is promoted, as well as loss of home; while the gloom that damps the spirits, depresses also the vital energies, and makes the young members of a household eager and anxious to escape from that spot which ought to be the well-beloved and attractive centre of the best affections of the heart.

THE BLACKBERRY.-Very few regard this shrub of the slightest value-it does, however, possess some qualities which entitle them to the attention of others than the mere passer-by. For instance: the blackberries have a dessicative and astringent virtue, and are a most appropriate remedy for the gums and inflammation of the tonsils. Boerhave affirms that the roots taken out of the earth in February or March, and boiled in honey, are an excellent remedy against dropsy. Syrup of blackberries, picked when only red, is cooling and astringent, in common purgings or fluxes. The bruised leaves, stalks, and unripe fruit, applied outwardly, are said to cure ring-worm.

COFFEE. In purchasing coffee, always prefer the Mocha; next to this, the Bourbon and Mauritius coffee; and lastly, the West India coffee. Never buy it roasted; you can procure a coffee

it be kept in a plain tin canister, and when roasted transfer it to a smaller one. Let the latter, especially, be air-tight, as nothing deteriorates coffee so much as exposure to the air after it has been roasted.

PIQUE is a cotton material much worn in France, and now being also made very useful in England. It is woven with small raised diamond patterns, and others of various kinds, as its entire fabric, generally white, but frequently in plain colours. When of a good quality it bears washing thoroughly well. The newest style of piqué is covered with printed flowers. The simple white, prettily braided, is perfectly suited for a child's dress.

CURE FOR HYDROPHOBIA.-The Presse Medicale Belge states on the authority of Father Legrand de la Liray, late interpreter to Admiral Rigualt de Genouilly, and one of the oldest and most venerable missionaries in Tonquin and Cochin China, that in those countries hydrophobia is cured with complete success by boiling a handful of the leaves of Datura Stramonium, or Thorny Apple, in a litre of water, until reduced one-half, and then administering the potion to the patient all at a time. A violent paroxysm of rage ensues, which lasts but a short time, and the patient is cured in the course of twenty-four hours. For the benefit of our readers we may state that the leaves of the stramonium are highly narcotic, and as such are recommended in asthma under the form of cigars, to be smoked as usual; but that the same leaves, taken in large quantities, whether in powder or under the form of a decoction, will produce temporary idiotcy. As to its efficacy in confirmed hydrophobia, it seems to be very earnestly recommended by Father Legrand, who declares he has tried it several times, and invariably with success. The great difficulty will of course consist in administering the remedy to the patient, which probably must be done by main force, with the aid of a horn; but on this subject the Presse Medicale is silent.

RECEIPT FOR TOMATO SAUCE.-Cut six tomatoes in half, and having pressed out their juice, put to them some gravy, a bit of garlick, a little parsley, and a few drops of vinegar. These must be boiled together for a short time, and passed through a sieve.

[The three following receipts are frequently used (as occasion requires) in our family, and I do not think they have ever been published.-F. S. MILLS].

A LINIMENT FOR A BRUISE.-Mix one pennyworth of each of the following, and rub upon the bruise every evening:-Spirits of Wine, Laudanum, Camphor, Opodeldoc, Sal. Ammonia, and Turpentine.

RECEIPT FOR THE BOWEL COMPLAINT.-Take Tincture of Rhubarb, 1 oz.; Syrup of ditto, 1 oz.; Laudanum, oz.; Essence of Peppermint, oz.; mix in half-a-quartern of the best Brandy, and cork tightly. When required for use, take two teaspoonfuls in half a glass of warm water, and the pain will be almost instantly remedied. The taste is not disagreeable.

A FIRST-RATE TOOTH POWDER.-1 oz. of Precipitated Chalk, oz. of Powdered Peruvian Bark, oz. of Powdered Bol. Armenia, and 4 drops of Oil of Cinnamon, well mixed together.