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4th Row.-2 L into 1 loop, with 1 chain between each, 1 chain, miss 1 loop, repeat. 5th Row.-2 L, with 2 chain between each under the 1 chain, between the 2 L, 2 chain, repeat.

6th Row. The same, only making 3 chain instead of 2.

7th Row. The same, only making 4 chain instead of 3.

8th, 9th, 10th, 11th, and 12th Rows. The same, only making 5 chain instead of 4. 13th Row. The same, only making 4 ch. 14th Row. The same, only making 3 chain.

15th Row. The same, only making 2 chain.

16th Row. The same, only making 1 chain.

17th Row.-1 L under every chain, without any chain between.

18th Row.-1 L, 1 chain, miss 1 loop, repeat.

19th Row.-A row of Dc.

For 2nd Puff-Now repeat from 4th row, only miss 2 loops instead of 1, but make 1 chain between each, and at 8th row make

By Mrs. Warren.

only 3 rows with the 5 chain between each, instead of 5 rows.

For 3rd Puff-Repeat as at 4th row exactly, but at 8th row work only 1 row, with 5 chain between, and at the row of L stitches, with 1 L, 1 chain, miss 1 loop, make the L stitches Dble L; this is to run the ribbon in, or a piece of elastic is preferable, with a bow in the centre; in each insertion between the puffs, elastic may be used.

EVERY human creature is sensible of the propensities to some infirmity of temper, which it should be his care to correct and subdue, particularly in the early period of life; else, when arrived at a state of maturity, he may relapse into those faults which were originally in his nature, and which will require to be diligently watched and kept under, through the whole course of life; since nothing leads more directly to the breach of charity, and to the injury and molestation of our fellow-creatures, than the indulgence of an ill temper.-Dr. Blair.

THE INFLUENCE OF A REMARK. A FEW years ago, a man in humble circumstances in life, emigrated from Scotland and settled in one of the Western States of America. He was a coarse and ignorant man, but very energetic, and entirely devoted to the acquisition of property. He had been very poor, and felt that wealth constituted the greatest of all earthly blessings. He had never enjoyed any of the advantages of education, and was perfectly unconscious of the value of a cultivated mind. His wild and rustic home was carved out of the wilderness, where he was surrounded by those hardy pioneers who knew of no employment but toil. Rich harvests began to wave upon his well-tilled and fertile acres. His barns were filled with plenty; cattle accumulated in his pastures; his plain but substantial dwelling was provided with all homely comforts, and at length he became a man of wealth.

He had an only child, a daughter, whom he loved with the instinctive love of one who knew nothing of the refinement of affection, but who feels proud of possessing a child to whom he could leave the fruits of his toilsome and successful life.

One winter's evening, as the sleet was drifting over the bleak plains, and the wind whistling around the windows, two strangers, from different directions, sought a night's hospitality beneath the roof of the old farmer. One was a young adventurer, penniless and almost friendless, seeking his fortune in the boundless West. The other was an intelligent, middle-aged gentleman of wealth from the East, travelling on business connected with an important speculation in which he was about to embark. The fire, of large logs of wood, blazed brightly on the hearth. The hardy old farmer, blessed with the vigour which the health of sixty years confers, sat by his kitchen fireside smoking his pipe, now and then exchanging a word with the strangers, neither of whom seemed disposed to sociability. The farmer's wife, and rustic daughter, sat in silence, the latter paring apples, and stringing the slices to hang in festoons to dry, from the poles suspended from the walls. The wife was engaged in knitting that employment which seems

to be the heaven-conferred solace and blessing for the aged and the infirm.

Own

An half hour of perfect silence had elapsed, during which the two strangers were entirely absorbed in their thoughts, when the middle-aged gentleman suddenly roused himself from his reverie, and turning his eye to the maiden, inquired

Is this your only daughter, my friend?" "Yes," replied the farmer, "she is my only child." "As you

"Indeed," was the reply.

seem to be blessed with all the comforts of life, I suppose you mean to give her a perfect education."

"I never

"Not I," the farmer rejoined. had any education myself, and I don't believe it will do her any good. I mean to leave her money, so that she will not have to work as hard as her poor father and mother have been compelled to do. Money is the best friend one can have in such a world as this."

"I think you are wrong, friend, there," the gentleman replied. "I also have an only daughter, and an only child. She is of about the same age with yours, but I mean to give her as perfect an education as money can give, and she has the capacity to receive. A good education is something which no one but God can take from her." All relapsed into their former silence. But there was something in the terseness of the expression, "A good education is something which no one but God can take from her," which struck, with peculiar force, the mind of the young man. repeated the words again and again. He pondered their weighty import. They became engraved upon his memory in letters never to be effaced.

He

The night passed away. The morning dawned. The cold rays of a winter's sun glistened upon the wide and cheerless expanse of snow. After breakfast in the warm kitchen of the farmer, the two strangers separated, each to go his own way. They never met again. But the remark which had fallen upon the ear of the young man, had awakened thoughts which were never to be forgotten: "A good education is something which no one but God can take from her."

The

Years with their changes rolled on. young man, enterprising and energetic, had found him a home, and a group of

cate.

THE CHEMISTRY OF NATURE. IF we trace back the history of our world into those remote eras of which the early rocks are records, we shall discover that the same chemical laws were operating then which control the changes of matter now. At one period the earth was a huge mass of fiery fluid, which, radiating or throwing off heat into spaces, gradually cooled, and became surrounded with a solid crust, entombing within it a seething chaos of intensely heated materials, which now assert their existence in the shock of the earthquake, and the awful outbreaks of volcanic fires. In latter ages, when the crust had cooled still more, and the atmosphere let fall its showers, the still heated surface, hissing and roaring with the contact of the flood, was rent into enormous blocks, and dreadful abysses; which still remain all over the world, and form the wondrous monuments of an age of great convulsions.

bright and happy children were clustered about his comfortable fireside. When he received his first-born son in his arms, he said "This child was given to me to eduA good education is something which no one but God can take from him." His wife imbibed his spirit. And as one after another was added to the number of their happy family, they both felt that their great duty in life was to educate their children. It became the all-absorbing object of their nature and their ambition. Thirteen children were given to them. They were all educated-highly educated. The sons became prominent members of the learned professions, swaying a wide influence over thousands of minds. The daughters became highly accomplished, intellectual ladies, to fill the posts of wives and mothers, to inspire their children with a love for knowledge. And what finite mind can tell where this mighty influence shall terminate? Who can tell to what uncounted thousands of roused and invigorated intellects this one sentiment will Later still, the seas gathered together, not prove to have been the guiding angel? the rocky masses were powdered into dust It is thus that in this world apparent acci- by the delicate fingers of the dew and the dents achieve the mightiest miracles. A showers, the green herbs sprang up, and casual word, forgotten almost before it has the monsters of the slimy deep appeared in left the lips, may form the destiny for time obedience to the Creator's fiat, and the and eternity of multitudes which no tongue whole earth became a home of beauty in can number. obedience to chemical law. The ceaseless play of the elements, and the mutations of the atoms, had built up the whole into one gorgeous scene of luxuriance; and man whole subservient to his wishes; and, by was awakened into being, to render the tracing out the harmonies of the natural world, to arrive at a more exalted knowledge of his Maker.

THE POOR BOY.-Don't be ashamed, my lad, if you have a patch on your elbow. It is no mark of disgrace. It speaks well for your industrious mother. For our part, we would rather see a dozen patches on your jacket, than hear one profane or vulgar word escape from your lips. No good boy will shun you because you cannot dress as well as your companions; and if a boy sometimes laughs at your appearanee, say nothing, my good lad, but work on. We know many a rich and good man, my boy; and if you are poor, you will be respected—a great deal more than if you were the son of a rich man, and addicted to

bad habits.-Olive Branch.

Ir a man would keep both integrity and independence free from temptation, let him keep out of debt. Dr. Franklin says, "It is hard for an empty bag to stand upright."

The atom of charcoal which floated in the corrupt atmosphere of the old volcanic ages was absorbed into the leaf of a fern, when the valleys became green and luxuriant; and there, in its proper place, it received the sunlight and the dew, aiding to fling back to heaven a reflection of heaven's gold, and at the same time to build the tough fibre of the plant. That same atom

was confined to the tomb when the waters submerged the jungled valleys. It had lain three thousands of years, and a month since was brought into light again, imbedded in a block of coal. It shall be consumed to warm our dwelling, cook our food, and make more ruddy and cheerful the hearth

whereon our children play; it shall combine with a portion of the invisible atmosphere, ascend upwards as a curling wreath to revel in a mazy dance up high in the blue ether-shall reach earth again, and be entrapped in the embrace of a flower-shall live in velvet beauty on the cheek of an apricot-shall pass into the human body, giving enjoyment to the palate, and health to the blood-shall circulate in the delicate tissues of the brain, and aid, by entering into some new combination, in educing the thoughts which are now being uttered by the pen. It is but an atom of charcoal -it may dwell one moment in a stagnant ditch, and the next be flushing on the lip of beauty-it may now be a component of a limestone rock, and the next moment an ingredient in a field of potatoes-it may slumber for a thousand years without undergoing a single change, and the next hour pass through a thousand; and, after all, it is only an atom of charcoal, and occupies only its own place, wherever it may be.

A WONDERFUL CLOCK. THE astronomical clock at Strasburg is composed of three parts, respectively dedicated to the measure of time, to the calendar, and to astronomical movements. The first thing to be created was a central moving power, communicating its motion to the whole of its mechanism. The motive power, which is itself a very perfect and exact time-piece, indicates on an outer face the hours and their subdivisions, as well as the days of the week: it strikes the hours and the quarters, and puts in motion divers allegorical figures. One of the most curious of these is the Genius placed on the first balustrade, and who turns, each hour, the sand-glass which he holds in his hand. The cock crows, and a procession of the apostles takes place every day at noon. In the calendar are noted the months, days, and dominical letters, as well as the calendar-properly so called, showing all the saints days in the year. The plate on which these signs are marked revolves once in 365 days for the common, and 366 for the bissextile, year; marking, at the same time, the irregularity which takes place three consecutive times out of four in the secular

years. The moveable feasts, which seem as though they followed no fixed rule, are, nevertheless, obtained here by a mechanism of marvellous ingenuity, in which all the elements of the ecclesiastical computation the milesimal, the solar circle, the golden number, the dominical letter, and the epacts combine and produce, for an unlimited period, the result sought. It is at midnight the 31st of December that the other moveable feasts and fasts range themselves on the calendar in the order and place of their succession for the whole of the following year. The third division solves the problems of astronomy. It exhibits an orrery, constructed on the Copernican System, which presents the mean revolutions of each of the planets visible to the naked eye. The earth, in her movement, carries with her her satellite-the moon, which accomplishes her revolution in the space of a lunar month. Besides this, the different phases of the moon are shown on a separate globe. One sphere represents the apparent movement of the heavens, making its revolution in the course of the siderial day. It is subjected to that almost imperceptible influence known as the precession of the equinoxes. Separate mechanisms produce the equations of the sun, its anomaly and right ascension. Others, the principal equations of the moon ; as its erection, anomaly, variation, annual equation, reduction, and right ascension. Others, again, relate to the equations of the ascending node of the moon. The rising and setting of the sun, its passage to the meridian, its eclipses, and those of the moon, are also represented on the dial.

THERE were four good habits a wise and good man earnestly recommended in his counsels, and by his own example, and which he considered essentially necessary for the happy management of temporal concerns; these are, punctuality, accuracy, steadiness, and despatch. Without the first, time is wasted; without the second, mistakes the most hurtful to our own credit and interest, and that of others, may be committed; without the third, nothing can be well done; and without the fourth, opportunities of advantage are lost, which it is impossible to recall.

MEMORY.

A VOICE of gentle singing
Went by upon the wind,
And an echo sweet is ringing-
The thought is left behind.

'Twas a song of other feelings,

That belong'd to other days, Ere I mark'd the stern revealings

Of the curtain time must raise.
When my heart and step were lighter
Than they'll ever be again,
And the dream of hope was brighter-
For I believed it then.

That sweet song was of gladness;
Yet it has left with me

A shadow, one-half sadness,
One-half dear memory.

Though the darkness of November
Around my heart be thrown,
Yet how pleasant to remember

The spring hours once its own!

THE DEPARTED.

"He hath but gone an hour or two earlier to bed, and we are undressing to follow."-ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTON.

WHY Com'st thou back, departed one,
Why com'st thou back to me,
When Autumn with its first-drawn blood
Doth stain the maple-tree?

Is it because thy musing mind
Did take such deep delight,

In the lone hush of pensive thought
That fading groves excite?

Why glid'st thou on, when Winter sweeps
The Year's proud wealth away,
And leaves it to the scathing blast,
All old, and bare, and grey?

Is it because the lengthen'd eve-
The hearth-stone blazing free-
The social page-the home-felt joy,
Were aye so sweet to thee?

Why art thou here, when Summer's pomp
Enrobes the scented thorn?

Is it because thine own young life
Was 'mid its roses born?

Or that her hand did lay thee down
On pillow cold and fair,
And duly make its covering brigh
With turf and violets rare?

Why art thou near, when Spring unlocks
The lowliest blossom's cell,

Thou bud of fondly-cherish'd hope,
That in its flushing fell?

Thy spirit-breath is on my cheek,
Yet nought can melt away

The frost-seal from thy lips, or heave
Thy breast of sculptured clay.

Why com'st thou thus, with every change
That marks the rolling year?

Is it because great Nature's book
Was to thy soul so dear?

Or to forewarn me that the land

O'er Jordan's wave draws nigh, Where varying seasons have no place, And Love can never die?

MRS. SIGOURNEY

THE FALLING LEAF.

FIERCELY November's wind,
Biting and shrill,

Sweeps o'er the valley-fields,
Moorland, and hill.
Now, it is shrieking wild;
Now, like a wailing child,
Sobbing and sighing-

O'er the flowers dying.

In each deep dell and glade,
There to wither and fade;

In pathways lone,

On the lap of the clay-cold earth-
The mother that gave them birth,
Sere leaves are strown.

In a close room, lit by a ruddy fire,
Upon her weary couch a maiden lies;
Consumption's hectic hue, of portent dire,

Tinges her cheek, and gleams in her dim eyes.
Alas! how vain all aid, and her desire

To see another summer's sunlit skies: Around are sister, brother, mother, sire, And thus she faintly speaks, with mournful sighs :

"Last year I watch'd, in happy girlish glee,

The leaves, wild whirling on the blast, to earth; No lesson, then, the falling fronds to me,

No sad forebodings check'd my youthful mirth.
"What reck, I then thought, if the brave old elms
Have all their verdant honours lowly laid!
Again, when summer gladdens Nature's realms,
Once more I'll sit beneath their grateful shade.
"But now, I mournful watch the falling leaf-
Sad emblem of my own untimely doom;
My spring of life has been but short and brief-
A day of sunshine closed by the dark tomb.

"I know 'tis sinful, yet to part with life-
To leave you all, my young heart sadly grieves;
My happy hopes of youth, so strong and rife,
Are now all wither'd like the falling leaves.
"When in the darksome grave I'm lowly placed,
With cold mould piled upon my lifeless breast,
Say, will you think of one you've oft embraced,
Or sigh to share my silent bed of rest?"

The weeping mother slowly thus replied-
"My dearest child, the leaves return in spring,
And after summer's past, at autumn-tide,
They wither, fade, and still to earth must cling.
"But thou wilt fade but once; eternal spring,
From wintry Death's grasp, surely, will you raise
To the blest presence of your Lord and King,
To join with angels in their songs of praise.
"Those whom God loves die young, ere sin and
grief

Have stain'd them in the world's contending

strife;

So we'll still think of you, in firm belief

To meet once more in Heaven's eternal life."

SUSAN P.

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