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To him they sing when spring renews the plain,
To him they cry, in winter's pinching reign;
Nor is their music nor their plaint in vain:
He hears the gay, and the distressful call;
And with unsparing bounty fills them all.

Observe the rising lily's snowy grace,
Observe the various vegetable race;

They neither toil nor spin, but careless grow;
Yet see how warm they blush, how bright they glow.
What regal vestments can with them

compare, What King so shining, or what Queen so fair?

If, ceaseless, thus the fowls of heaven He feeds;
If o'er the fields such lucid robes He spreads;
Will He not care for you, ye faithless say?

Is He unwise? or, are ye less than they?-Thomson.

THE WIND.

WIND is produced by the expansion of the air by heat, and its condensation by cold. The heat of the sun expanding the air, and causing it to become lighter, it consequently ascends, while the circumambient air rushes in to supply its place. On this principle are those winds accounted for, which within thirty degrees of the equator in each hemisphere, are constantly blowing. These are the trade winds, which, in some parts, blow for the space of six months in one direction, and during the six subsequent months in a direction completely opposite. That which blows in the northern hemisphere comes from the north-east, that in the southern hemisphere, from the south-east, and under these circumstances they are called monsoons. This variation in the trade-winds is produced by the annual revolution of the earth round the sun, which causes the north pole to be directed towards that luminary one-half of the year, and the south pole the other half,-one being the summer of the northern hemisphere, the other the summer of the southern.

We may often learn principles that can be applied to the investigation of nature from comparatively insignifi

cant results. Artificial winds are constantly circulating through our houses. Smoke rises because it is mingled with hot air, and the deficiency of air which is thus produced in an apartment, is supplied by the cold air which rushes through the crevices of the doors and windows. But our fires communicate, at the same time, an increased temperature to a portion of the air in the room, which consequently rises; and it will always be found in every building, that the hottest air is at the top. On this account there are always two currents in a room, one outward, and another inward, as may be easily proved; for, if a lighted candle be placed near the top of the door, the flame will be blown outward by the heated current which is making its escape; and, if at the bottom, it will be blown inward by the cold current which is rushing in. The same process is going on in nature, on a larger scale, and the principle which explains the one is applicable to the other. Take the land and sea breezes, which occur in all the islands of the torrid zone, as a proof of this statement. During the hottest part of the day the winds set in from every direction towards the centre of the island; for, the sun's rays produce more heat by their reflection from land than from water. When the sun ceases to throw its rays upon the region, the land cools, and that portion of air, which had been heated by them will begin to descend, and currents will be produced off the land, occasioned by the spreading or equalization of the atmosphere.-Higgins.

NATURE.

NATURE never did betray

The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,

Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;

And let the misty mountain winds be free
To blow against thee: and, in after years,
When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure, when thy mind
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be as a dwelling place

For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then,
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,

Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts
Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,
And these my exhortations!-Wordsworth.

ON FEMALE EDUCATION.

WE are too apt to overlook the end of education,—that it is the foundation of character-not the mere acquirement of knowledge, that is its legitimate purpose.

What a woman knows is comparatively of little importance to what a woman is. Let her mind be enlarged, and her information accurate; let her excel, if possible, in all that she does attempt, and we will find no fault with her, if her accomplishments be but few.

How delightful it is to meet with one whose mind is well stored with useful information; who is capable of tasting intellectual beauty, and of deciding with discretion in the emergencies of life; and who is, withal, destitute of pretension. And, on the contrary, what a sad specimen of folly it is, when a young woman is taught all conceivable accomplishments; and when their very number precludes the possibility of a proficiency in any. She has no taste, no love of knowledge, no real desire for improvement; her mind is a mere blank; she might as well have been employed (like her grandmothers of old) in

copying receipts in half text, or working Adam and Eve upon a sampler.

Lessons are considered the sum of education. But though it is certainly very right to have a memory for dates, and a rhyme for the signs of the zodiac, there is more to be learnt in history than facts, and in science than terms. It is the use and application of knowledge that demands our chief attention.

Above all, what a mistake is this system with regard to religion! Yet, even in serious families, there is often too much of dry routine in religious instruction. It is communicated too much as a task, which is to be learnt, repeated, and then thrown aside. Whereas, the principle should pervade every thing. Religion should be the star to gild the young child's path, and to give zest even to her little pleasures. It should be the sunbeam to warm her tender heart, and cause it to expand towards its Creator. We may weary our children with religious instruction, but we shall never make them love religion in this way.

Youth is the season for fixing habits. We are very careful that our children should acquire no awkward tricks; that their manners should be well formed, and their movements gracefully regulated; but we are not always sufficiently careful as to the habitual tone and temper of their minds. To induce the love as well as the habits of occupation, to excite an interest at the same time that we accustom to study,―should be our continual endeavour; and whilst we deprecate the charlatanism that would teach every thing by cards and counters, we should relieve, as much as possible, the irksomeness of the task. This can only be done by being ourselves in earnest. Nothing is so infectious as enthusiasm of all kinds, and especially to young people. Children naturally imbibe the feelings of their parents. The little girl who is brought up in the country, and who sees those around her interested in its occupations, dreams of snowdrops and primroses, and thinks no plaything so delightful as a spade and a parterre. In like manner, if she is sure that her instructors themselves care for her progress; if she can believe that they sympathize with her, she naturally shares in their ardour,

and almost intuitively acquires whatever they may wish to teach.

We may learn this from our Divine Instructor. He became man that he might teach men; and we must in spirit, identify ourselves with our children, if we would gain their interest; we must condescend to their little emotions, sympathize in their simple impressions, recall our own young feelings, and live over again our early years, —if we would mould them to our wishes, and make them regard us as their friends. Nor does this require so much devotion as might be imagined. Some mothers err a little in this respect. One would scarcely find fault with a parent for giving up too much time to her children; yet children are not the only objects of a mother's regard, and by her making them so, she may in some measure defeat her own wishes. The probability is, that she will render them selfish and dependent, and disqualify them from coping with those who have been nurtured with less tenderness. For, as the skilful gardener knows when it is better that Nature should do her own work, so does the judicious parent feel that children should sometimes be left to try their own strength, and should neither expect nor need assistance.

It is the fault, not merely of indulgent, but of overanxious parents, to treat their children too much as first objects. This is evident from their earlier years; and the little creatures are very quick at discerning their own importance. Their sayings are repeated, their talents lauded, their pleasures studied. They are suffered to interrupt and to interfere; and though we cannot, perhaps, say that they are rude, we must feel that they are very troublesome. And where this treatment is pursued in childhood it is generally continued in adolescence. The young people are the perpetual theme; their success is blazoned as if it were without precedent, and we are wearied with hearing of their prizes or their prospects. Yet all this has a very bad effect upon their future character; for they soon fancy themselves all that their partial friends imagine,—and then they must either learn a bitter lesson from a harsh and censorious world, or prop themselves up in their own good opinion by an extra portion of conceit.

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