black ones has grown upon the forehead. The thorax is covered with pale brown hairs, and the abdomen is nearly twice as long as that of the common working bee (Fig. 9), and the wings are smaller in proportion. The worker is rather darker in colour-indeed, its body is nearly black.

Fig. 9.

The abdomen is composed of six segments, overlying each other like the greaves of old armour. The third kind of bee is the drone, or male (Fig. 10), whose name has become a reproach to all idlers, from the

Fig. 10.

circumstance that this insect does not take any part in those diligent labours of the hive in which the workers are constantly employed. The drone is much larger than the worker, but has not so long a body as the queen bee. The thorax and abdomen (that is, the chest and belly) are of nearly equal size, and the eyes are very large. But I find I have already occupied the space allotted to me, and I must, therefore, again conclude without giving you "the romance of the bee-hive." Our great poet, Shakspere, has thus sketched the subject

"So work the honey bees; Creatures that by a rule in nature teach The art of order to a peopled kingdom. They have a king and officers, of sorts: Where some, like magistrates, correct at home; Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad; Others, like soldiers, armèd in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds; Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent royal of their emperor, Who, busied in his majesty, surveys The singing masons building roofs of gold; The civic citizens kneading up the honey, The poor mechanic porters crowding in Their heavy burdens at the narrow gate; The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum, Delivering o'er to executor's pale,

FAMILY FESTIVITIES.

A CONTRIBUTION to the happiness of families may be afforded by some suggestions for the pleasant management of those social gatherings which are the peculiar delight and honour of the English people. Where, throughout the wide world, with its contrasts of sunshine and snow, of flowers and frosts, is the social feature so highly developed as in Britainpeaceful but powerful Britain? Where does the fire-side look so happy? Where are family groups so complete ? Where are the charms of home so vividly portrayed? Nowhere! Switzerland has its patriotic valour, its mountain songs, its shepherd loves. France has its brilliant fêtes, its gay saloons, its gorgeous carnivals. Germany has its peasant bands, its dances, its fancy fairs;-but England has its Homes!

An English home at Christmas-tide is, perhaps, the best illustration of this social feature. Behold a group of merry faces, lit up by the dancing flames from the yulelog-laughter sitting upon every merry lip -gladness flashing from every eye-merriment flowing from every tongue-and love radiating from every heart! Some of the group may look venerable, but none appear old-decay seems nowhere! there is a ruddy glow upon every cheek that seems to subdue all thought of care or decline, even to the forgetfulness of white hairs that over the time

fall like spotless snow

honoured brow.

Reasoning thus, I am led to contemplate the memory of my Grandfather, whose birthday we had met to celebrate upon the occasion to which my preceding remarks refer. He was a good old man. Grey hairs covered his brow, but there was still a healthful glow upon his cheek, and a cheerful smile upon his lip. He displayed none of the asperities of old age; he was lively-even jocular-yet religious; he had, indeed, been a close thinker, and a devout worshipper for a number of years. He wore a broad brimmed hat, finished with a little more of style than the quiet Quaker recognises; he was stout and portly, and displayed a good round leg in a silk stocking, with an Oxford shoe covering his

considerable erectness and agility for an old man bordering upon eighty. It was his seventy-ninth birthday that we were met to celebrate. Reader, how many years have passed over your dial of time? Are you a stripling of sixteen, or a man of thirty? Think of the veteran who has counted eighty winters, and honour the grey hairs that crown his head; for in that life how many passages of sorrow have been read! How many ties of affection have been broken! How many hopes have been blighted! How many friendships have proved untrue! How many labours have been lost! much wisdom has been gained by dearly bought experience! Bow down, therefore, youth or man, and revere the aged veteran, who wrought before thou wert conceived; who loved before thou lived; who bore disappointment before thou had hoped; and who, most probably, will die before thy maturer life has begun-leaving to you the legacy of his experience, the blessing of his good example.

How

My Grandfather was very fond-shall I say proud of his grandchildren, of whom there were many. As many of them as were within a circle of a few miles gathered together upon this evening. There were two festivals in the year when the old man set upon his table what he called "rare old English fare "-roast beef and plum pudding! Christmas day was one of those occasions, and his birthday the other; and upon this evening, although we had met to sup-and physiological teaching forbids the partaking of heavy meals at such timesour Grandfather overlooked the law, and a steaming round of beef, and a well compounded plum-pudding, that bore a laughing dimple upon every meridian of its surface, were duly laid upon the table, and fully appreciated.

"The boys," as Grandfather called us, were fond of singing, and somewhat clever in its performance. They had studied family music for many years, and it fortunately happened that their voices accorded so well, that they could sing capital quartettes and glees. Knowing the old man's fondness for music, and the festival upon which they were about to meet, they had previously entered into a little plot, which will be developed in the sequel.

spread upon the board, the old man's health was proposed, and drunk with an enthusiasm which those alone who have grandfathers to honour and to love can tell. The old man returned thanks in a neat speech, in the course of which the memory of past years having swept across his mind, he sat down somewhat overpowered, and to relieve himselfhe called upon "the boys" for a song. They then sung as follows, giving their music an utterance which proved that their hearts approved the sentiments expressed :

OUR BELOVED GRANDFATHER.
(AIR-The Old English Gentleman.)

full well,

We'll sing a song, a real good song, of one we know And of whose noble qualities we all delight to tell; And not a word of flattery from any lip shall fall, For he to whom our praise is given doth well

deserve it all

dear old man, filled his face with joy. At first he could scarcely catch the words, so he leant forth and listened with great eagerness, until he recognised their theme; then, resting his eyes downward, he sat with modest quietude, until, toward the last, he placed his hand before his eyes and wept, struggling all the while to conceal an emotion which would, however, burst forth, and which soon touched every heart present.

The song was at once encored, and sung again even with increased effect.

The amusement of the evening then proceeded. There was sitting amid the group another dear old man, Grandfather's junior brother, whom we familiarly called "Uncle Tom." He differed from Grandfather, not in goodness, but in person and in manner. He was a little man, very compact and well made, and full of agility. His features were small, but were lit up with intelligence. His dress, though becoming to an elder, bore about it a neat fashion which he might call his own. He, too, wore breeches and hose, and he usually walked with his hands back under his coat tails, as if he could despise the aid of a stick, and yet tread the earth with confidence. His face was a compound of smiles: his eyes smiled, his nose smiled, his lips and chin smiled-the very furrows of his brow seemed to smile as so many good-tempered lips. We used to call him our "Dear Uncle Tom!" And wasn't he fond of singing! He used himself to sing, and for an old man of sixty-nine, he did so very well. His song was something about "going no more a roaming," the idea of which used "the boys" very much indeed. Of course, Uncle Tom's health was next proposed, and then another song called for, without any anticipation of the result that But the boys readily struck up

to amuse

followed.

the following:

:

UNCLE TOM.

(AIR-Lucy Long.)

There's one who is noble-hearted,
And may his life be long,

And ere we again are parted,
We'll cheer him by a song.
A free and hearty fellow,

We'll gladly sing his praise,
And while our hearts are mellow,
We'll wish him length of days.

Come, tune your joyful voices,
And praise him in a song;
Come, tune your joyful voices,
And honour Uncle Tom!

No penury he knoweth,
But as he older grows,
His heart more kindly gloweth,
And true affection shows.
Then let us all award him

This homage as his claim,
And all our tongues accord in
This tribute to his fame.

Come, tune your joyful voices, &c.
Compared with him the kings,
Who worthless titles bear,
Are poor and heartless things,
Though wealth may be their share,
The man is truly noble,

Who bears an honest heart,
And well our worthy uncle

Has play'd his earthly part.

Come, tune your joyful voices, &c. Dear Uncle Tom! His eyes glistened at the first pronunciation of his name; then he began to beat time with his hand on the table; next his voice chimed in; and last, overlooking the self-adulation of the act, his enthusiastic joy carried him away, and he shouted in the chorus, "Honour Uncle Tom!" Two or three times that night we "honoured Uncle Tom" by repeating the song, and the dear old man never afterwards forgot the occasion.

In our great family circle, are there not many good grandfathers and grandmothers, parents, aunts, and uncles, that would find similar delight in such a simple but heartfelt testimony on the part of young people, in the midst of their festivities. And how many popular airs might be set to suitable words, in which the good qualites of the old folk might find a record! We are even now meditating some future time when, to the words of "Auld Lang Syne," we shall sing, "Should dear old Auntie be forgot?" She is the last of Grandfather's and Uncle Tom's family contemporaries; and as she sits in her black satin gown, with her fresh face smartened by a lace cap, trimmed with white ribands, she seems a pleasing embodiment of the memories of the past.

Long after the evening referred to, Grandfather and Uncle Tom were heard to congratulate each other upon the cleverness of "the boys," and the sweet voices of "the girls." The songs became sacred to the household, and were sung upon many occasions when the family circle drew around the winter fire; and many a tear started forth under their influence.

We now remember these songs with a sweet sadness; but we sing them no more.

DOUBLE PRIMROSE MAT.

Three shades of Violet-three skeins of the darkest, and six skeins of the other two shades; and two skeins of dark Green-4-thread wool.

Half an ounce of two shades of Green-spangled wool. Nos. 1 and 2 Penelope hooks; one quarter of a yard of black velvet; a piece of stout cardboard measuring seven inches every way.

For the Primroses.

Darkest violet. With No. 2 hook make 7 chain, unite (this forms a small circle); make 3 chain, and then under this circle work 18 L without any chains between; fasten off into the 3rd loop of the 3 chain.

There will now be the appearance of 19 L Each shade must be worked separately.

2ndly. Next shade: 7 chain, unite, 7 chain, De under the circle for 5 times (in all, 5 chains of 7); then Dc under 1st 7 chain, *7 L under same, Dc under same, Dc under next 7; repeat from *.

3rdly.-Lightest shade: 9 chain, unite work same as last, only making 6 chaine of 8 instead of 5 chains of 7.

Now, with darkest shade, sew these sepa rate pieces together in the centre, having the lightest shade outside. Make 7 pieces of each shade, which will form 21 Flowers.