"But how is all this to help my boy?" now asked the widow. "Why, do you see, I have heard that the little lieutenant has come to Stockholm, and that he is now a general and a knight of I don't know how many Orders, and altogether a great man. Besides this, he is rich, for he had money himself, and with his wife he got more. Now, as they have large estates and many farms, and no children, I have thought that they might do something for Gustaf; and I mean to go and see him and speak to him, for he was a kind-hearted little fellow in his youth, and why should he not be the same in his old age, though I take it he will be a little put out when he sees old Sigurd, who remembers so well his first campaign." "Yes, may be he will; but he must thank God and Sigurd for having saved his life that time," said Mrs. Borkman. "But, Sigurd, it is very late; ought you not to go to rest?" The veteran rose, and drawing himself up to his full height, cast one more look at the heavens, and then limped into his humble nook. (To be continued.) other hand, he has sensibly included some which, though undoubtedly not indigenous, are yet thoroughly naturalised and estab lished in various habitats; but these are The book contains a valuable introduction distinguished by a certain mark prefixed. the parts of a plant and its appendages; an -a short, simple, but perfect description of explanation of all that is essential to a mere beginner in the study of botany; directions how to examine a plant, and how to form a herbarium; with a clear, succinct synopsis of the natural orders, classes, and kingdoms of British plants. There is also an analysis of natural orders, as a sort of preface or key which succeed. An excellent glossary closes to the more thoroughly delineated genera the little volume, which teaches so much and costs so little, and can be carried without inconvenience even in a lady's dress pocket. Coming as it does just in the very height of Flora's season, we may surely believe that the first edition of Mr. Notcutt's "Handbook of British Plants" will most speedily be exhausted. ERRATA. Page 514, for Mizereon read Mezereon. P. 546, second column, lines 44 and 45, wherever, not whereven. P. 563, Notes and Queries, for diernus read diurnus; in deghour delete e. In note on "Patterdale,' for Lynlph's, Lyulph's; for Emme, Emma; second column, line 20, for lancgreal read Sancgreal; line 21, read holy-grail, not A Handbook of British Plants," by W. of Ireland, not England. Enigma 130, last grais. Page 566, enigma 122 g, read north LOWNDES NOTCUTT. London: Long-line, "Yere's," not Zere's. man, Green, and Co., Paternoster Row. Cheltenham: Norman and Sons, Clarence Street. REVIEWS OF BOOKS. "Neither house nor castle was ever built THIS little volume is precisely what it on the ground without being first built in claims to be a 66 Handbook of British the air, though many built in air have been Plants" "designed especially for schools, built in air only. And if the vision of science classes, and excursionists." The what is done in story so fascinates us that author has evidently bestowed great pains we make the spectacle a substitute for a upon the work, comparing his own descrip- structure of our own, it is nevertheless true tions with those of Smith, Witheram, Ba- that we may derive from such vision both bington, and Hooker, and others of well- hints for the plan of our house or castle in accredited botanical authority. His aim the air-what it ought and ought not has been to seize the most prominent recog- to be-and incentives for setting to work nisable characters in the plants under dis at its erection on the ground. You may cussion, and he has wisely excluded from get hints about a plain house through his flora all those doubtful species which seeing a fine one, and may perfect the tend so much to perplex the early student-attained through prospect of the unattainspecies which, as he truly remarks," though able. It is something, then, to look at a mentioned in our leading floras, have been castle or palace, even if you cannot live in seen by no living botanists in our country, one."-Lynch. and most of which are believed to have been first recorded by mistake. On the "The world gets freshness and nerve for its to-morrow by the study of its yesterday.” ONLY A SUNBEAM. Ir was a dull, grey morning; the damp | atmosphere weighed heavily on the spirits, and life appeared very dreary through the mist. So thought Miss Maitland, as she surveyed the desolate viliage landscape from her parlour window. It was not that alone, however, that threw such a chill over the desolate little woman's heart, it rather harmonised with, than created those feelings. She was one of those old maids so plentiful, yet so misunderstood, whose early life had been full of such bitter trials that her whole existence had been warped, and from frequent disappointments she had learned to look upon the dark side of everything, and anticipate trouble. She might have been different, Oh yes! but then it is more customary to rebel than to submit; how seldom do trials accomplish the great purpose for which they are sent! This was her reverie as she leaned one elbow on the window-ledge, "Of what use am I in the world? Why was I born? To make people miserable, a most certainly. Here I live, shut up from day to day, and year to year; I visit no one, no one visits me, except the very few distant relations who would not think they had fulfilled all their duties unless they paid me penitential visits of five minutes duration twice in the year. I love nobody, and nobody loves me. Ha! ha! the idea is quite ridiculous. I sneer at such a thing as a kiss or a caress, namby. pamby, hypocritical bribes. Love! ha! ha! I dreamed of such mockery once; I thought the skies blue and the flowers sweet; moonlight was my delight, and God reigned everywhere. My eyes fell, my cheek burned, and my heart bounded with quick pulsations when he was nigh. Fool! fool! to believe that, other than a dream creation. I have out-grown dreams. I only look at the sky now as at a weather glass; the perfume of flowers is sickening; moonlight is suggestive of colds and rheumatics, and the presence of no human being gives me pleasure. This is the reality I have awakened to-and this is truth. "Highty, tighty, here's a pretty state of " things!-I wish you much joy, if such ▷ your sentiments, Mistress Maitland The little woman started. A sunbear had pierced the thick grey clouds, and n rested on the window-ledge. As she gazed, it seemed to dissolve ite into a tiny figure with a thick bushy head of bright golden curls and twinkling eye that appeared to emit a ray of light with every flash. "You're a pretty philanthropist, to te sure! The world would be twenty time the better for being rid of all such spot upon its surface." The little fellow walked angrily up and down the ledge, his hands folded behind his back, now and then turning over head and heels as the very masterpiece expressive action. I should like to know how much good you've done this morning already—0 yes! you arose and dressed yourself,!. suppose, and then came to this window to grumble. Now let me see, what ma it you said—for I heard all?' He paused, took a run up the wal opposite, and then, returning to the ledge, took up a threatening attitude befor her. Why were you born I should like to know if you were not intended to be of use, and whose fault is it if the Great Masters' intentions, are misunderstood How can you expect people to visit you i you do not visit them; do you make the time pass so pleasantly when they do call, that they should ever care to repeat their visit How dare you sneer at the Creator's great attribute-love? The world is full of it, and the time you lived was when you were as you term it, a slave to its weaknes Have you ever given anyone a moment's pleasure, that you should expect to receive the same from them? No! then com mence at once to dispense love with a lavish hand, and the returns will increase yearly. You are a selfish, grumbling, old thing you hear truth now, if you neve heard it before." The little woman burst into tears, and so affected the little spirit that he galloped up and down greatly agitated; then he seized her hand, and perching himself upon one of her fingers sprang to her face; her tears glittered like diamonds through the golden rays his bright little body cast off. His gay antics surprised her into a smile, and then with one bound he leaped to the ledge again. "Highty, tighty, dry your eyes, little woman, and listen to what I, who am only a sunbeam, have done already this morning to make the world brighter and better for my being in it. After I came from my Master's mansion in the skies, my way lay through the forest, and my work there took me many hours. I took out my palette and brushes and first tiped the tree-tops with gold. Then I crept to the grass, every blade brightening beneath my steps. The violets and primroses were weeping; I lifted their heads and shook the tear-drops from their eyes, then passed my brush over their leaves, and their colours shone forth so dazzlingly brilliant that you would have thought some magic influence had been at work, rather than the feeble efforts of a little sunbeam. A farmhouse stands upon the outskirts of the forest, I leaped into the windows and bumping up against their eyes awakened half-a-dozen servants who might have slept until doomsday but for me. There was so much waiting to be done that on I flew. There was an early breakfast spread for a good man going forth to labour, so on the table I sprang, out with my brushes and gilded the cups and saucers with a brighter gold than the most expensive china wears. The brisk little cottage woman laughed and lifted up a rosy-cheeked baby to see me dancing on the ceiling, and the labourer joined in the merriment, clapping his hands to the boy, and shouting at my antics. I should have liked to stay longer but there was a poor sickly little girl over the way who watched for me daily, so off I flew." My colour box was needed here. I put a delicate rose tint on her white cheeks, and a bright gleam in her young eyes and danced round her so lovingly that she exclaimed. "Oh! little sunbeam, stay with me always!" Then I leaped on to her flower-pot in the window, and pinched and tugged at a little round hard bud until crimson leaves unfolded themselves and the poor invalid screamed with delight. Then I came here and found you grumbling at the wretchedness in this bright, happy world. I am but a little sunbeam, yet how much good I do trying to be sunny! When I flash past, the little birds uncover their heads, and send after me volume of gushing notes. I leap on to the seam beneath the weary seamstress's fingers and straightway the needle flashes in its haste to accomplish the task. I jump into a schoolroom and set all the scholars laughing at my mischief until the master in despair shuts me out; but the one little laugh has done a world of good he cannot destroy. I gleam over the water and the fishes poke up their heads and dance with joy to welcome me, yet I am only a poor little sunbeam with not half the power of doing good that you have. I have no patience with your idleness and complaints. Forgoodness' sake do something for which the world may be better while you live. The little creature paused, and folding his arms behind him, placing his foot forwards in a very comical manner, gazed earnestly into her face. "Teach me little sunbeam; I am ready to learn." Over head and heels he went, coming up again with his mass of golden curls in great confusion, but his eyes dancing with delight. Then he sprang on to the crimson curtains peeping from their folds and thus snugly ensconced commenced his lecture. Months passed, and again and again sunbeam returned listening patiently to the experience won by the practice of his advice of which he was so lavish. Gradually but surely the sunbeam taught the old maid the truth of her mission in the world, and how to fulfill it. Rebuked by the sunbeam she learned that no creature, however insignificant, is thought useless by the great Creator; but that He himself allots each out his duties, and is grieved over the shortcomings of all who leave them unfulfilled. MAGGIE SYMINGTON 64 MORAL ANTAGONISM.-TREES. MORAL ANTAGONISM. TREES. "THROUGH all the kingdoms of ins imate nature, trees are peerless in form The shape of the waves is beautiful, but it samely; the forms of the clouds are beaut ful and of utmost variety, but their beauty is vast and grand, not coming quickly hom to the human mind, and not unfrequently stretching into long staight lines, or los itself in shapeless hugeness. They are poets have called them, the formless gr daughters of the sky. But the forms forest foliage have a variety whispering nature's infinitude; they are precisely c a size, and are precisely so placed, as render them obvious to the eye; and i their chastened, regulated, consumm beauty, they never fail. The birch, w nodding plumes, as of forest-queen, waving tresses as of the woodland mai The elm, with its imperial drapery, majestic yet graceful port, a Que Elizabeth among trees. The elastic, de ant, soaring beech, its boughs seeming to le into the sky; these, and how many afford the finest compositions in abstrac form presented in the whole range of ina mate nature. There are no flowers to draw the eye from the arching of th leaves and the grouping of the boughs; local intensity, no concentration of calvar prevents it from resting calmly on broad sweeps of green which robe b conceal not the majesty of the form. Th fruit-tree has no fineness of form, nor is i valuable as timber; but what it wants form and timber it makes up in flowers a fruit. Its wood is valueless compared wit that of the oak; its form paltry compar with that of the elm; but no tree of th forest can boast of apple-bloom in sprin and the golden and roseate offerings many an autumn atone for the worthless ness of the fallen trunk."-Peter Bayne. THERE is a barrier separating the few from the many-natures earnest and profound from natures frivolous and superficial -which inevitably precludes the latter from a clear understanding and just estimate of the former. Multitudes appear to meet and to "love," to part and to "forget," as if the sentiment enunciated by Byron, where-speaking of one as his "life's unerring light "-he asks, "That quenched, what beam shall break my night?" were utterly foreign to their moral perception. Their griefs and their attachments have alike "but little root." They lose their tenderest, best of friends-those haply whose lives have been one long sacrifice in their service-and hasten away from the shadow of the tomb, to sport, as before, in the sunshine. Their past is obliterated by their present; new affections replace the old, and they quickly learn to talk lightly of calamities that for the moment seemed overwhelming. How could these comprehend or appreciate or feel aught in common with those-with the fervid, thoughtful ones whose great griefs are hourly breaking in upon their peace, hourly gnawing at their heart's core? And hence how ready are they, in their blindness to the inner life of beings so opposite, in their ignorance of the working of events apparently similar upon natures so different-how ready are they to coldly condemn! They know not the truth. The vacillation and abstinence from effort, so harshly denounced, are the very infirmi ties to which those souls of intense feeling were, at the outset, least liable. But affliction, with iron heel, has crushed out their moral vitality. There is a "feebleness of purpose," loudly blamed, which is a natural result of irresistible causes; there is a "want of energy," strongly rebuked, which is not wilful, but brought about by its forcible extinction. CARACTACUS. other "Learn the sanctity of Duty. It is to be feared that thousands even of intelligen "There are people in the world who persons, and persons who are supposed suppose they have a right to go shares in be religious beings, have no conception other people's backbones. You cannot get the greatness of the idea of duty, of mers them to believe that they have one of their accountableness, of the meaning of the own. They would have you dissected, and word 'ought.' But it is certain that turn your vertebral column into a walking- nothing is done well until it is done fro stick, rather than attempt to learn the the sense of a controlling principle of inhe truth unpalatable to them-that they must rent and essential rightness. Duty is t rely upon themselves, that is, that the child of Love, and therefore there is powe principles of life are self-reliance and self-in all its teachings and commands."-Re trust."Rev. Paxton Hood. Paxton Hood. VILLAGE BELLS. MERRILY! joyfully! ceaselessly! rang out the silver bells in the cool autumn air. The arms of the stout ringers never relaxed in their pleasant task as they sounded that gladsome chime far and wide. A blither joy cadence had never echoed from the famed peal of Ashfield Church than on this evening when they rang so gaily to welcome the young bride to her husband's halls-to the home of future joys and sorrows, smiles and tears; the birthplace, perchance, of smiling children, may be destined to witness a mother's anguish, as those tender blossoms were removed from her clasping arms to a brighter home above. But a roseate veil shrouded the far off -the to come-from sight,-a veil drawn by the fingers of youth, love, and beauty. A group of happy villagers had assembled just outside the lodge-gates, which were thrown wide open to admit the eagerly-expected carriage of the bride and bridegroom. A tasteful arch, composed of flowers and evergreens, adorned with flags and appropriate mottoes, was erected just inside. The massive gates were of handsomely wrought iron, with a gold lion rampant, holding a helm in its paw, on the top of each of them-the proud crest of the noble owner. The lodges on either side were stone, of Gothic architecture, with a nice kitchen, parlour, and two bedrooms in each of them. One was occupied by an aged couple-the ci-devant gardener and his wife, who had formerly been nurse at the castle-the other tenanted by a pretty young widow and her little daughter, a child of eight years old, who, arrayed in a clean white frock, and holding a bouquet in her hand, culled from her mother's nice garden, stood on tiptoe with eager impatience to present her simple offering to the new lady. The children of the Sunday-school were drawn up in line, in white dimity frocks and bright blue jackets, while their large straw hats were trimmed with the same VOL. VIII.-NEW SERIES. colour. This picturesque attire was the whim of the rector's young wife, who, with a smile on her rosy lips, said she would never allow her scholars to be disfigured by the odious poke bonnets of ordinary Sunday-school children. So, as was generally the case, her indulgent husband allowed her her own way. These girls all carried baskets on their arms, well filled with flowers, to strew under the carriage-wheels, and so let the young pair enter their new abode on a pathway of flowers-a fair emblem, we trust, of the unknown, untried future. The farmers, with their wives and smartly-dressed, rosy-cheeked daughters, gave a good idea of the comfortable circumstances of these worthy yeomen, and spoke equally favourably of their landlord, who must have been universally popular, or his coming home would never have been hailed by so many bright faces. Mr. Harcourt, the rector, a tall, handsome, gentlemanly-looking man, somewhere between thirty and forty, stood talking earnestly to the head farmer, whose bronzed face, which by constant exposure to wind and weather had attained the colour of mahogany, showed signs of great inward perturbation, while he constantly removed the drops from his moist forehead with a red silk handkerchief. no manner "It is of no use, your reverence," said the worthy man at length, of use. I cannot remember a word of all that fine speech you have been at the trouble of writing out so plain like for me. My good father always said-'The art a good, steady lad, Samuel, but ther wilt never make a scholard.' And thought those words were said hard upon sixty years ago, they are quite true to ta day; for, save a little reading and writ ing, I could make no haud at par "Come, Samuel, my good frust the clergyman, with a ette, too much fuss over your ad your kind mater hat, and look at i mary low ant the if you forget ia muie, |