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an evil infinitely aggravated. He has nothing left to defend him from the oppressor's wrong and the proud man's contumely. He may soon degenerate to a beast of burden, for the mind sinks with the slavery of the condition. But while a man feels that he is free, and fills a respectable rank, as a freeman, in the community, he walks with upright port, conscious, even in rags, of comparative dignity.

While the middle and lower ranks acquaint themselves with their rights, they should also impress on their minds a sense of their duties, and return obedience and allegiance for protection.

To perform the part of good members of the community, their understandings must be duly enlightened, and they must be encouraged, rather than forbidden, to give a close attention to all public transactions. Disagreements in private life are often justly called misunderstandings. It is through want of clear conceptions that feuds and animosities frequently happen in public. The many are not so mad as they are represented. They act honestly and zealously according to their knowledge. Give them fair and full information, and they will do the thing that is right, in consequence of it. But nothing more generally and justly offends them, than an attempt to conceal or distort facts which concern them; an attempt to render them the dupes of interested ambition, planning its own elevation on the ruins of their independence.

binations of "fancy flowers"-blossoms that exist wholly in the brain of the calico-printer or the paper-stainerthese may be as fantastic as you please. But I speak of the unnatural distortion of real flowers, resulting from ignorance of the proper proportion and number of their parts. Why is it that floral patterns on wall-papers are out of fashion, or are driven up to the bed-rooms on the third landing, or to the back parlour of the country inn? It is not, surely, that flowers are out of fashion; or that the taste for them is less general than it was formerly. But it is that the taste of the public is not properly ministered to: it has outrun that of the manufacturer. In a rude state of education, bright colours and gracefully bended branches on the walls will please the eye that does not stop to question their propriety. But as refinement increases, truth in form will be preferred to brilliancy in colour, and the twining of branches that is not natural will be no longer thought graceful. It will be no longer regarded as a twining but a twisting-perverting nature for a false effect. This is the true reason why floral patterns in wall-papers are now so much out of favour, and why, when selecting the paper for a room, one is forced (I speak from experience) after turning over books of patterns till you are weary, to take refuge in some arabesque design-some combination of graceful curves of no meaning-as an escape from the frightful compositions that are called flower patterns. It is surely high time that our manufacturers should seek to correct this evil. These are not days in which any one can afford to be left a step behind the rest of the world. He that once loses his place in the foremost rank, is pushed aside and lost in the crowd that is eagerly pressing forward, and almost treading on his heels. Already French wallpapers are rapidly coming into use. They have brought down the prices of the home manufacture considerably, and they will undoubtedly drive home-made papers out of the market altogether, if the manufacturers do not exert themselves to produce more artistic patterns than The French have they commonly originate at present.

I wish, as a friend to peace, and an enemy to all tumultuary and riotous proceedings, that the mass of the people should understand the constitution, and know, that redress of grievances is to be sought and obtained by appeals to the law; by appeals to reason; without appealing, except in cases of the very last necessity, which seldom occur, to the arm of violence. I advise them patiently to bear, while there is but a hope of melioration, even flagrant abuses, if no other mode of redress appears, for the present, but convulsion. I would exhort them, not to fly from the despotism of an administration, to the despotism of an enraged populace. I would have been before us in the establishment of Schools of Design. them value the life, the tranquillity, the property, of the At their schools Artistic Botany, or correct flower drawrich and great, as well as those of the poor and obscure.ing, is regularly taught; and hence the great superiority I would wish them to labour at promoting human happiness in all ranks, and be assured, that happiness, like health, is not to be enjoyed in a fever.

To accomplish these ends, I think too much pains cannot be bestowed in teaching them to understand the true nature of civil liberty; and in demonstrating to them, that it is injured by all excesses, whether the excesses originate in courts or cottages.

A ministry need not hire newspapers, or employ spies. Let them build their confidence in truth and justice, and the enlightened people will constitute its firmest buttress. Let it never be said, that the people have nothing to do with politics, lest it should be inferred, that such politics have no regard to the people.-Knox.

NATURE AND ART.

I WOULD speak of the importance of a knowledge of Botany to the inventors of flower patterns; whether for muslin, for damask, or for wall-papers. It is most certain that true taste will prefer the pattern which most nearly represents the natural flowers, with all their peculiarities of form, and in their true colours. The stems in nature may be stiff and angular: if they be so, it is vain to attempt in the pattern to give them graceful bends, and to hope, by so doing, to please the eye. To represent branches of hawthorn flowers on the twining stems of a convolvolus would be monstrously absurd. And yet faults as glaring are frequently committed by ignorant draftsmen, when they attempt the composition of floral patterns. Of course, I am not now speaking of the com

of their flower patterns, whether on china, on silk, on muslins, or on wall-papers. It is not that French taste is superior to Irish or English taste; but it is that, in France, the principles of correct taste are more diffused among the class engaged in executing ornamental designs. Our workmen have as much inventive talent, but it requires to be educated. At present it wastes itself for want of proper direction and instruction.-Dr. W. H. Harvey.

CHINESE PIRATES.

Piracy is carried on to a great and alarming extent in the China seas. The pirate vessels and boats are peculiarly constructed, being remarkably fast; the crews are numerous, and the vessels are fully armed with guns, swivels, matchlocks, spears, boarding-pikes, and other weapons of an offensive description. Their usual mode of proceeding is as follows:-As soon as they get within reach of their victims, they throw on board the doomed vessel a large quantity of fire-balls, so prepared as to produce an intolerable and most offensive odour when explosion takes place; missiles of all kinds are then scattered around. When the terror and confusion thus | created is at its height, the pirates grapple and board the prize, when, if resistance is offered, too frequently all on board are butchered in a savage manner. Pirates infest the seas between Hong-Kong, Macao, and Canton, inhabiting the Ladrone islands surrounding Hong-Kong, which seem to be abandoned to their sovereignty; and the passage between these forts is thus rendered extremely hazardous, both as regards life and property. China and the Chinese.

DIAMOND DUST.

NEVER HOLD MALICE.

Oh! never "hold malice;" it poisons our life,
With the gall-drop of hate and the nightshade of strife;
Let us scorn where we must, and despise where we may,
But let anger like sunlight go down with the day.
Our spirits in clashing may bear the hot spark,
But no smouldering flame to break out in the dark;
"Tis the narrowest heart that creation can make,
Where our passion folds up like the coils of a snake.

Oh! never "hold malice ;" it cannot be good,
For 'tis nobler to strike in the rush of hot blood
Than to bitterly cherish the name of the foe,
Wait to sharpen a weapon and measure the blow.
The wild dog in hunger-the wolf in its spring-
The shark of the waters-the asp with its sting-
Are less to be feared than the vengeance of man,
When it lyeth in secret to wound when it can,

Oh! never "hold malice;" dislike if you will,
Yet remember Humanity linketh us still;
We are all of us human, and all of us erring,
And mercy within us should ever be stirring.
Shall we dare to look up to the Father above,
With petitions for pardon or pleading for love;
Shall we dare, while we pant for revenge on another,
To ask from a God yet deny to a brother?

ELIZA COOK.

CONDENSING. There may be many authors who understand this art, but few who practise it, though it is far from being the least important that belongs to writing. True, the production of ideas must ever stand first, but to what undue lengths will the unchecked fancy go even in the strongest minds; and it is only by keeping them within proper bounds, discarding the weak and superfluous, and adopting the true and beautiful, that we can ever hope to give anything worthy of the admiration of posterity, Some can never write a letter without filling the whole sheet, and if the ink holds out they will write across and across the paper again; so that what at first was scarcely intelligible, at last defies not only the best skill and ingenuity of man to understand, but defeats every attempt to read it, while a clever man's letter is ever short, pithy, and intelligent, and you feel satisfied on arriving at the end of his epistle. Many a young author of real talents, begins his profession by labouring too much in the collecting and joining together of words. To collect words will ever be a common and easy labour, to originate and condense ideas a rare and difficult one. very best author is but an artificer of a higher grade, and be assured that by learning to condense you will greatly increase the number of your readers.

The

ENVY is frequently the foundation of ill reports. There is a jealousy in some characters which renders the success of others the subject of malevolence instead of approbation. The sudden depression of those with whom they are connected, would give felicity; but if they are exalted in the scale of society, and receive the just encomiums of merit, it creates hatred. They now cease to be upon a level with such ; and as they will not see by what principles they have been distanced, they seek to avoid comparison, and begin to detract either from the moral or intellectual qualities of those whom they once loved. Thus merit is frequently immolated upon the altar of caprice, or devoted to the sullen look of suspicion.

THE power which is at once spring and regulator in all efforts of reform, is faith in man, the conviction that there is an infinite worthiness in him which will appear at the call of worth, and that all particular reforms are the removing of some impediment.

THE worst of crosses is never to have had any.

IN conduct, as in art, there is an idea of the great and beautiful, by which men should exalt the hackneyed and the trite of life.

HUMILITY is the dress-coat of pride.

THE sensations of joy felt on approaching the home of a beloved one, are like the twilight of morning before the sun has become visible.

"BE prosperous and happy, never require our services, and we will remain your friends." This is not what society says, but it is often the principle on which it acts.

A MAN'S honesty is the only commodity whose true value is exactly the price at which the owner rates it.

If we examined our own faults attentively, we should have less time to detect, and more inclination to pardon, those of others.

INTELLECT and industry are never incompatible.

ZEAL without judgment is an evil, though it be zeal unto good.

By being rubbed long and often against the great loadstone of society, we obtain, in a thousand little minute points, an attraction in common with our fellows. Their petty sorrows, and small joys-their objects of interest or employment, at some time or other have been ours. We gather up a vast collection of moral and mental farthings of exchange; and we scarcely find any intellect so poor, but what we can deal with it in some way.

EARNESTNESS and simplicity carry all before them. NOTHING keeps a man from being rich, like thinking he has enough; nothing from knowledge and wisdom, like thinking he has both.

To encourage talent, is to create it.

POLITICS is a science which no one believes those who differ with him to understand.

ONE of the most marked characteristics of fashionable demoralization is a reckless neglect of principles, and a rigid adherence to their semblance.

MALICE is the spur of wit, good nature the bridle. ALMSGIVING never made any man poor, nor robbery rich, nor prosperity wise.

COMPARE your griefs with other men's, and they will seem less.

DISEASES are the interest of pleasures.

THE best dancing tune is the morning song of the lark.

DESTROY not your own health by drinking the healths of others.

THE greatest gift we can bestow on others is a good example.

IN aping the manners of foreign countries, we lose what is best in our own, and only expose ourselves to the ridicule of those we imitate.

not at those which precede it. We ought to aim at such pleasures as follow labour,

Printed and Published for the Proprietor, by JOHN OWEN CLARKE, (of No. 9, Hemingford Terrace, East, in the Parish of St. Mary, Islington, in the County of Middlesex) at his Printing Office, No. 3, Raquet Court, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, in the City of London. Saturday, October 13, 1849.

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AMUSEMENT.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 20, 1849.

THERE is a more profound meaning in the word "Amusement" than most people in this country are disposed to admit. There is a philosophy in amusement, as well as in education; indeed, we have no hesitation in averring, that Amusement is a most important part of Education.

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bago, head-ache, or gout is driven further from him in every run that he takes. He goes to bed well tired, and then enjoys the profound and refreshing slumber which he has earned on the cricket-ground; rising in the morning clear-headed, and renovated in health and strength.

It is a mistake to suppose that the man who plays at cricket, or who otherwise amuses himself in active exercise during the intervals of business, is wasting his time. Amusement is not waste of time, but rather economy of life. Relax frequently, if you would enjoy good health during a longer period of existence. If you relax not, and take no amusement-that is, if your calling should not itself be a constant exercise-then you will mentally suffer, in the pangs of indigestion, in weak and unhealthy lungs, in colds and rheumatisms, and in all the penalties which attend confinement and sedentary occupation.

Of course, there are many kinds of amusement, varying according to the degree of moral and intellectual culture of those taking part in them. There are the low amusements of the gross and the uneducated, whom society has allowed to grow up in its midst, with minds untrained and untaught, with tastes unrefined by intercourse with art or letters, and who are narrowed in all their sources of pleasure and enjoyment. To these the Man has a strong natural appetite for relaxation and brutal exhibition of a dog-fight or a public execution amusement, and, like all other natural appetites, this has affords the only opportunity for a saturnalia of enjoy-been implanted in us for a wise purpose. It is not to be ment-an enjoyment which is level with the meanest repressed, but will break out in one form or another. If capacity, and no other. we provide not the opportunity for enjoying wholesome

How different the amusements of the intelligent and amusements, men will certainly find out vicious ones for refined-such as an intercourse with the beauties of themselves. nature, a ramble through a beautiful country full of historic associations, a concert of exquisite music, a picture exhibition, a soirée, an agreeable book, or an evening's delightful conversation with intelligent persons. Then, there are the out-of-doors amusements; the manly games, of which the healthful game of cricket is one of the most cheerful and exciting.

There are, we believe, some people in the world who, under mistaken notions, would, if they had the power, hang the heavens about with crape; pick the bright stars from the sky; veil the sun with clouds, because of his shining too merrily on the gay green earth; pluck the silver moon from her place in the firmament, no more to brighten the young wooers, who laughed and loved under her beams; throw a shroud on the beautiful and life-heaving bosom of this fair planet; shut up our gardens and fields, and all the sweet flowers with which they are bedecked, and doom our world to an atmosphere of gloom and cheerlessness. But there is no reason nor morality in this, and still less religion. A benevolent Creator has endowed man with an eminent capacity for enjoyment, set him in a fair and lovely world, surrounded him with things good and beautiful, and given him the disposition to love, to sympathize, to produce, to cooperate, to enjoy; and thus to become an honourable and a happy being, bringing God's work to perfection, and suiting the divine creation in the midst of which

The occupations of a very large portion of our town population are sedentary and unwholesome, and require, for health's sake, a frequent relaxation in games of this latter sort, which bring a man's muscles into action, and healthfully excite all the organic functions of the system. What is better calculated to blow away the vapours from the brain, and to give a thorough fresh-airing to the blood, than the breeze blowing across the heath, while the cricketer is actively engaged in batting, balling, fielding, and the other excrcises of the game? Every muscle is put in action: he must run, and ply his limbs actively, the use of which, while sitting at his city desk, he had well nigh forgotten. He must be all alive-he makes the green carpet of turf fly from under him, while the welcome he lives. breeze plays around his head. He is cheerful and full of Who knows not that the heart of man is greatly influgood-humour; care and anxicty are banished; and lum-enced by the moral atmosphere which he breathes; and

that he is disposed to an affinity with the good, very much in proportion as his spirits are kept in that genial tone which their due relaxation promotes. Make a man happy, and his actions will be happy too; but doom him to dismal thoughts and miserable circumstances, and you make him gloomy, discontented, morose, and probably vicious. Hence coarseness and crime are almost invariably found among those who have never been accustomed to be cheerful, whose hearts have been shut against the purifying influences of a happy communion with nature, or an enlightened and cheerful intercourse with man.

And yet all, even the meanest of human beings (if any human being can be mean), possess the sense to discern, and the heart to love and even reverence beauty in all its forms. Why should not some care be taken, then, to cultivate a taste for the beautiful in art and nature among all ranks in the community? Why should not this means be adopted of unfolding the noble powers and affections of men? Why should not the fields and the gardens be thrown freely open to the classes who now waste their long hours in consuming toil, cut off from all higher pleasures, and impelled too often by the strong love of excitement, to seek a deceitful solace in sensual excess, after escaping from the burden of their daily care and labour? Above all, why should not Music be made a lightener of toil, a cheerer of social intercourse, a relief of loneliness, and a means of solace even in the poorest dwellings?

"Regarded as a refined pleasure," says Channing, "Music has a most favourable bearing on public morals. Let taste and skill in this beautiful art be spread among us, and every family will have a new resource; home will gain a new attraction; social intercourse will be more cheerful; and an innocent public amusement will be furnished to the community. Public amusements, bringing multitudes together, to kindle with one emotion, to share the same innocent joy, have a humanizing influence; and among these bonds of society, perhaps no one produces so much unmixed good as music. What a fullness of enjoyment has our Creator placed within our reach, by surrounding us with an atmosphere which may be shaped into sweet sounds! And yet this goodness is almost lost upon us, through want of culture of the organ by which this provision is to be enjoyed."

better than the gin-palace and the public-house. Possibly we may only be giving a more concentrated form to vice, by frowning down in a pharisaic way those popular amusements. There was some time ago a kind of crusade against music licenses, originated by a belief amongst the respectable classes, that every assembly of the working class for singing and dancing, must, of necessity, be a scene of vice. To a certain extent they may be so; for, when innocent pleasures are forbidden by public morality, and repressed by law, these very pleasures become poisoned fountains. It is the prohibition, not the indulgence, which creates the vice.

No such objections, however, can be taken to the cultivation of a popular taste for music. Father Mathew, very properly, followed up his temperance movement by a singing movement. He promoted the establishment of musical clubs all over Ireland; for he felt that, as he had taken the people's whiskey from them, he must give some wholesome stimulus in its stead-and he gave them Music. Having taken away a mischievous pleasure, it was necessary to give a wholesome one; and Music was found to be the very thing wanted. Singing classes were established, to refine the taste, soften the manners, and humanize the mass of the people. As a means towards this end, we believe that nothing is superior.

We should like to see galleries of art also thrown open freely to the people. Accustom them to the sight of beautiful objects, and in course of time they will learn to understand them; their tastes will be educated, and their respect for genius excited. The exhibitions of Mechanics' Institutes, which, some years ago, took place throughout the provincial towns, were a good beginning, and we should like to see them repeated. Some of the most liberal and public-spirited members of the aristocracy are at present opening their fine picture galleries freely to the public; among others, the Duke of Devonshire is allowing immense numbers of the working classes to inspect his magnificent collections of painting and statuary at Chatsworth; and railway trips for the purpose are got up at Bradford, Leeds, Sheffield, and others of the smoky towns of Yorkshire. The conduct of the working men, on these occasions, does equal justice to their manners and their intelligence. Let all such means of wholesome amusement be encouraged, and we shall shortly find foreign observers giving a much better account, than they can give at present, of the character, manners, and intelligence of the mass of the English people.

THE STORMY PETREL.

The improvement of the character of our popular amusements is a subject, we believe, well worthy the attention of our temperance reformers. Perhaps they do not sufficiently consider how much intemperance is the result of gross and uncultivated tastes, and of the too limited opportunities which exist in this country for obtaining access to amusements of an innocent and improving tendency. The workman's tastes have been allowed to remain uncultivated; present wants engross his thoughts; WHEN the wind blows over the ocean in short and fitful the gratification of his appetites is his highest pleasure; gusts, when the dark horizon lowers, and the ship creaks and when he relaxes, it is too often in indulgence in in- and labours as if in anticipation of the storm that awaits toxicating stimulants. In the beer-house he finds com- her, then the low wailing cry of the petrel sounds fort; there is a bright fire and clean hearth, contrasting beneath her stern, and instantly the billows are dark with strongly, perhaps, with his own uncomfortable home. the forms of these little birds. They have surrounded Here he joins in merry talk with his fellows; he discusses the vessel with a suddenness which would almost seem the topics of the day, or the news of the neighbourhood. to justify the belief, common amongst sailors, that their He thus learns to talk, to argue, and to measure wits with home is in the wave, and that they only rise to the others. He acquires the habit of frequenting the public-surface when a storm is nigh. Resting one moment on house, for no other public place is open to him. There are few or no public galleries of art open to the poor. There are few or no cheap amusements, nor rooms for rational enjoyment and recreation; and until the people at large are furnished with such means of rational, healthy, and exhilarating enjoyment, we fear public-wind. houses will continue to be frequented as now, and intemperance prevail in its grosser forms.

Men cannot be expected to spend their whole time in labour, going home merely to eat and sleep. There must be intervals of relaxation. Picture galleries, museums of art, concerts, gardens, exhibitions, theatres-all are

the water, the next they are shooting alongside of the ship; anon, they are far ahead, leaping with both legs parallel on the waves; again they are following in her wake, running on the surface of the sea, and mingling their sad weet weet with the mournful whistling of the

We may smile at the shuddering awe with which these harmless birds inspire the hardy sailor, yet none may refuse to make allowance, not only for the prejudices, but also for the circumstances of his life. Alone for months upon the silent sea; compelled to pay close attention to the minutest prognostics of storm and

tempest; listening to the ever-rolling waves, until his practised ear distinguishes every variation in their sound, with a precision and delicacy scarcely known to the proficient in music; he associates sights and sounds until, in his simple yet thoughtful mind, he confounds causes with effects, and deems that the petrel raises the storm, from which it, in reality, flies for refuge.

We were once assured by a very intelligent sailor, that he had seen these birds, when the water was very clear, "grazing at the bottom of the sea." He even pointed out to us a dangerous spot near Caldy Island, Pembrokeshire, where they were in the habit of pasturing; adding, that frequently when he had been off that rock, on a calm day, he had seen one rise to the surface, when, ere he had time to slacken sail, a squall would come on, and immediately there would be hundreds of petrels around the boat. Superstitious people," he said, "believe that the birds are bred from nothing; but I know that this is not true, as they hatch their eggs under their wings as they float in the water." Thus the bird, the storm-swallow of the Dutch, has acquired the familiar names of Witches, Devil's Birds, and Mother Cary's Chickens.

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The petrels," says Rennie," are nocturnal birds. When, therefore, they are seen flying about, and feeding by day, the fact appears to indicate that they have been driven from their usual quarters by a storm." We should rather say that their sensitiveness to aerial change, which is seen to a certain extent in all living things, renders them uneasy before a storm can have reached their rocky abodes, as they appear with its earliest indications. "Though the petrels venture to wing their way over the wide ocean as fearlessly as our swallows do over a mill-pond, they are not, therefore, the less sensible to danger; and, as if feelingly aware of their weakness, they make all haste to the nearest shelter. When they cannot, then, find an island or a rock to shield them from the blast, they fly towards the first ship they can descry, crowd into her wake, and close under her stern, heedless, it would appear, of the rushing surge, so that they can keep the vessel between them and the unbroken sweep of the wind."

"As well," says Wilson, "might they curse the midnight lighthouse, that star-like guides them on their watery way, or the buoy that warns them of the sunken rocks below, as this harmless wanderer, whose manner informs them of the approach of the storm, and thereby enables them to prepare for it."

If any oily substance be thrown overboard, these birds collect eagerly round it, keeping, as sea-birds do, their heads to the windward, and supporting themselves by slightly elevating their wings and "pattering with their feet" on the waves. We have read of a petrel which was kept alive in confinement for some time, and fed by smearing its breast feathers daily with oil, which it imbibed by sucking them. They are said to have the power of ejecting the oily portions of their food for the nourishment of their young, and also as a means of defence when caught. Pennant affirms, that the inhabitants of the Faroe Isles use petrels for candles, "on account of the quantity of oil they contain, by merely drawing a cotton wick through their bodies;" but if this eminent naturalist was not mistaken, we should prefer calling this strange light a lamp instead of a candie, as the body of the bird, probably, was not consumed, or at least was not luminous. Like the Esquimaux, the petrels seem to extend their taste for such substances even to the "end of a tallow candle;" for Mr. Couch found that one of these birds had swallowed about an inch and a half of a mould candle.

The stormy petrel is the least of our web-footed birds; scarcely measuring six inches from head to tail, while the wing is four inches and five-eighths from the bend. "This length of wing," says Mr. Hewitson, "with the

white spot above the tail, gives it the appearance, when flying, of our house-marten."

The same gentleman gives a most interesting account of a visit which he paid to the haunts and nests of these little birds, in the island of Foula. He says, that they begin to lay at a much later period than any other seabirds, which the fishermen assured him was in consequence of their not having yet "come up from the sea." However, towards the end of June, they arrived (doubtless from the depths below), and for some days were to be seen sitting about in the holes of the rocks, whence they were easily taken; and a man having brought him above a dozen tied up in a stocking, he let the whole party loose in his apartment. All the day the little prisoners pushed themselves into the crevices, and behind the corners of the furniture, refusing all food, and when it grew dark, they employed themselves in ceaseless endeavours to regain their wonted freedom, flying round and round the room, and vainly beating themselves against the window. For three successive days and nights this went on, when, happily, all except one effected their escape through a broken pane; the one was smothered in a basin of eggs!

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In Foula the petrels bred in holes in the cliff at a considerable height above the sea; but at Oxna, Mr. Hewitson found their nests under the stones which form the beach, between which they penetrate to the soil beneath; so that in walking on the surface, he could hear them in the evening hours, singing with a kind of warbling chatter." Directed by this talkative propensity he removed the stones, and seldom failed in finding two or three birds seated quietly on their secluded nests. The petrels lay but one egg, which is about an inch in length, and white, slightly speckled at the larger end.

Long-continued storms frequently drive the petrel far from its native element; several have been picked up in an exhausted condition in Oxfordshire, Berkshire, and other inland counties.

THE IMMORTALITY OF KINDNESS.

BY SILVERPEN.

MRS. GRIGG had for twenty years of her life been a milliner. Not, however, that humble description of milliner, whose business lay in trimming the best caps of small tradesmen's wives, or making the bonnets of little needy teachers of music or dancing, but a veritable duchess's milliner, who had not only made head-dresses for state-balls, but ruffles for Court, and what was far more to the purpose in her own estimation-money!

Leaving off business at the time she married her only child, Sophia, she retired to the rus in urbe of Mr Wildspoon, her son-in-law, at Clapham; but the young and old housekeepers not agreeing, and making strange warfare, not only in the honest hatter's absence, but also when he came home to enjoy a quiet hour at night, Mr. Wildspoon at last came to the excellent determination to get rid of "dear mother" as speedily and as peacefully as he could; the latter a necessary point, as the solemn lady held the keys of the cash-box, and was tenderly attached to "my dear child," in spite of the above mentioned peculiarity of always quarreling if in her "sweet society" more than twenty-four hours.

Mother-in-law" thus finding it necessary to retire from the land of battles, drew four hundred pounds out of the three per cent. consols, and furnished a "genteel house," whither she retired with one servant, long her ally on a former scene, to accommodate the public with "apartments." Here, for some years she lived a life most congenial to her nature, though to her friends she constantly lamented those "adverse domestic circumstances which kept her from the sweet society of her dear child,” and which compelled her to "let apartments." But her

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