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ON PRESERVING OBJECTS OF NATURAL
HISTORY. II. INSECTS.

IN a former number we described the method of
preparing a Hortus Siccus*, for the preservation of
subjects belonging to the vegetable kingdom. Objects
connected with other branches of Natural History
are, in many instances, easily preserved, and the
collections thus formed are equally interesting and
instructive; insects, in particular, are most splendid
illustrations of the wonders of the creation; and the
searching for and capturing the various species, is the
cause of many a healthy ramble, while the observation
of their wonderful instincts materially tends to elevate
the mind.

The Coleopterous insects (the beetles,) are much more readily collected and preserved, and, at the same time, occupy less room than the Lepidoptera, (butterflies.)

For the purpose of preserving the Coleoptera, the collector must, in the first instance, provide himself with a number of chip boxes and very slender pins, prepared for the express purpose; along the bottom,

and the inside of the lid of these boxes, narrow strips of cork are to be glued, and the insects, when taken and killed, are to be pinned to these strips of cork, by means of a pin, passed through their bodies at the upper part of the left wing-case. Several little implements are necessary for the purpose of taking the beetles, as, for instance, a digger, fixed in a strong

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The next engraving represents the method of setting a coleopterous insect: in this case it is merely

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necessary to make the joints of the beetle pliable, by placing it for several days on a piece of cork, over some wet sand, in a covered vessel; and then having pinned it on the setting-board, to arrange the legs and antennæ, and keep them in their places, until dry, by means of a number of pins.

Sometimes it is wished to display the wings expanded, and in that case, the pin must be thrust through the thorax (chest) of the creature, and not the wings: small triangular pieces of pasteboard are then employed to keep the wings in the proper position until dry, as seen in the next engraving. This last plan is also applied in the arrange

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wooden handle; a pair of brass forceps; and a hatful of
small pill-boxes, to put in, singly, those
species that are apt to devour each other
when placed together. Insects that are
harmless may be put into a tin box,
about five inches long, formed after this
fashion; the broad shoulder preventing
their escape when the cork is withdrawn
for the purpose of introducing another
specimen. The use of the digger is to
penetrate the earth, or remove the bark,
and other substances, under which insects
lurk, and the forceps will assist in the
capture of those which are too small to
be seized with the fingers. The best way
to kill beetles is to immerse them, for a
moment, in scalding water.
The boxes we have described, may be considered
as so many magazines, or store-houses, from which
the different varieties may be afterwards culled and
set, before they are introduced into the cabinet. The
setting of a beetle is very simple; it is performed on
a thin board, covered with cork, neatly smoothed,
over which a sheet of drawing-paper has been pasted,
capable of receiving on its surface a considerable
number of insects.

* See Saturday Magazine, Vol. IV., p. 107.

ment of the wings of butterflies and moths. After the employment of any of these methods, the setting-board must be placed in a dry situation for several days, before the insects are removed to the cabinet.

The best description of cabinet for the reception of insects is a series of drawers, each covered with bizzle, which fits very tightly into the top of the a pane of glass in a narrow mahogany frame or drawer, but made in such a manner as to be removed. when necessary; and as these drawers can be made singly, the expense incurred will be gradual. The bottom of these drawers is lined with cork, and the best mode of doing this, is to procure a bundle of the cork from which cork soles are cut, and have each piece split into two; both sides are then rasped level, and as many pieces as are necessary to cover the bottom of one drawer are glued together by the

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edges, and when dry, the upper surface is rubbed level with pumice-stone; the whole is then cut as if it were one piece, to the exact size of the drawer, and firmly glued to the bottom; it is afterwards neatly covered with paper and ruled in columns, the name of the genus being carefully written in its proper place, and room left for the specimen. A space is also generally left in the thickness of the sides of the drawer, to receive a piece of camphor; the scent of this prevents the specimens being attacked by the destructive mites which would otherwise speedily destroy them.

EFFECT OF MUSIC.

In my early youth, I went with some other young people, equally devoid of care, one day during the extreme heat of lofty mountains which surround the Lago Maggiore, in Lombardy. Having reached by day-break the middle of the ascent, we stopped to contemplate the Borromean isles, which were displayed under our feet, in the middle of the lake, when we were surrounded by a large flock of sheep, which were leaving the fold to go to their pasture. One of our party, who was no bad performer on the flute, and who always carried his instrument along with him, took it out of his pocket. "I am going," said he, "to turn Corydon; let us see whether Virgil's sheep will recognise their pastor." He began to play. The sheep and goats, which were following one another towards the mountain, with their heads hanging down, raised them at the first sound of the flute, and all, with a general and hasty movement, turned to the side from whence the agreeable noise pro ceeded. Gradually they flocked round the musician, and listened with motionless attention. He ceased playing: still the sheep did not stir. The shepherd, with his staff, obliged those nearest to him to move on. They obeyed; but no sooner did the fluter begin again to play, than his innocent auditors again returned to him. The shepherd, out of patience, pelted them with clods of earth; but not one would move. The fluter played with additional skill; the shepherd fell into a passion, whistled, scolded, and pelted Such as were hit the poor fleecy amateurs with stones. by them began to march, but the others still refused to stir. At last, the shepherd was obliged to entreat our Orpheus to stop his magic sounds; the sheep then moved off, but continued to stop at a distance, as often as our friend resumed the agreeable instrument. The tune he played was nothing more than the favourite air of the opera at that time performing at Milan. As music was our continual employment, we were delighted with our adventure; we reasoned upon it the whole day, and concluded that physical pleasure is the basis of all music.-Life of

summer, to seek for coolness and fresh air on one of the

HAYDN.

NOTHING can exceed the elegance of those forms which
are presented in every part of the vegetable kingdom,
whether they be considered with reference to their direct
utility for the support of individual life, and the continu-
ance of the species, or whether they be viewed as compo-
nent parts of that beauty which is spread over the scenery
of nature, and is so delightfully refreshing to the eye of
every beholder alive to its fascinating charms.
enchanting are all the varieties of flowers, that decorate in
gay profusion every part of the garden of creation; and
into which, the further we carry our philosophic scrutiny,
the more forcibly will our hearts be impressed with the
truth of the divine appeal, that "EVEN SOLOMON IN ALL

HIS GLORY WAS NOT ARRAYED LIKE ONE OF THESE.
ROGET.

How

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Do not depreciate any pursuit which leads men to contemplate the works of their Creator! The Linnean traveller who, when you look over the pages of his journal, seems to you a mere botanist, has in his pursuit, as you have in yours, an object that occupies his time, and fills his mind, and satisfies his heart. It is as innocent as yours, and as disinterested, perhaps more so; because it is not so Nor is the pleasure which he partakes in investigating the structure of a plant less pure, or less worthy, than what you derive from perusing the noblest productions of human genius.-SOUTHEY.

ambitious.

EGYPTIAN MODE OF HATCHING EGGS
BY ARTIFICIAL MEANS.

THE poultry-yard was not stocked alone by the natural process of rearing chickens, but also by artificial means, which the ingenuity of this people had discovered; and the eggs of fowls and geese were hatched by ovens, heated to a requisite temperature, which imitated the warmth, while they dispensed with the necessity of the sitting of the hens.

This custom has been handed down to their descend

ants; and the Copts, in various parts of Egypt, supply the markets, during the Spring, with the chickens this ingenious process has enabled them to rear. I may be excused for introducing a brief notice of the means employed for this purpose.

The proprietors of ovens make the round of the villages in their vicinity, and collect the eggs from the peasants, which they give in charge to the rearers, who, without any previous examination, place all they receive on mats strewed with bran, in a room eleven feet square, with a flat roof, and about four feet high; over which is a chamber of the same size, but with a vaulted roof, and about nine feet high; a small aperture in the centre of the vault admitting light during the warm weather, and another of larger diameter, immediately below, communicating with the oven, through whose ceiling it is pierced. By this, also, the man descends to observe the eggs; but in the cold season both these are closed, and a lamp is kept burning instead; another entrance at the front part of the oven being then used for the same purpose, and shut immediately on his quitting it. In the upper room is the fire, disposed along the whole length of two troughs, based with earthen slabs, reaching from one side to the other, against the front and back walls. In the oven the eggs are placed in a line corresponding to, and immediately below the fires, where they remain half a day; they are then removed, and others (from a heap in the centre,) are arranged in their stead, and so on, till all have taken their equal share of the warmest positions, to which each set returns again and again, in regular succession, till the expiration of six days. They are then held up one by one, towards a strong light, and if the egg appears clear, and of a uniform colour, it is evident it has not succeeded; but if it shows an opaque substance within, or the appearance of different shades, the chicken is already formed; and

these last are all returned to the oven for other four

days, their positions being changed as before.

At the expiration of the four days they are removed to another oven, over which, however, are no fires. Here they lie for five days in one heap, the aperture in the roof and the door being closed with tow, to exclude the air; after which they are placed separately, about one or two inches apart, over the whole surface of the mats, which are sprinkled with a little bran. They are now continually turned and shifted from one part of the mats to another, for six or seven days, all air being carefully excluded; during which time they are constantly examined by one of the rearers, who applies each singly to his upper eyelid. Those which are cold, prove the chickens to be dead, but warmth greater than the human skin, is the favourable sign that they have succeeded. At length the chicken, breaking its egg, gradually comes forth; and it is not a little curious to see some half-exposed, and half-covered by the shell, while they chirp in their confinement, which they appear so desirous to quit. The total number of days is generally twentyone, but some eggs with a thin shell, remain but eighteen. The average of those that succeed is twothirds, which are returned by the rearers to the

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proprietors, who restore to the peasants one-half of the chickens, the other being kept as payment for their expenses. The size of the building depends, of course, on the means or speculation of the proprietors; but the general plan is usually the same, being a series of eight or ten ovens (and upper rooms) on either side of a passage, about a hundred feet by fifteen, and twelve in height. The thermometer, in any part of it, is not less than 24° Réaum. (86° Fahr.,) but the average heat in the ovens does not reach the temperature of fowls, which is 32° Réaum. Excessive heat or cold are equally prejudicial to this process; and the only season of the year at which they succeed, is from the 15th of Imsheer (23rd of February) o the 15th of Baramoodeh (24th of April,) beyond which time they can scarcely reckon upon more than two or three in a hundred.

[WILKINSON'S Manners and Customs of the Ancient Egyptians.]

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A SPECIOUS Sophistry is not sound argument. I cannot allow you to misapply a Scripture rule. Though Providence has decreed that all things should work together for good, it offers us no latitude to do evil that good may come of it. Our duty is defined; we must perform our part as well as we can, and keep ourselves unspotted from the world, leaving events in which we have no power given us of interference, to the wisdom of Him, whose ways are not as our ways. We learn much better from positive than from negative precepts. The mind of man is easily corrupted, and clings with tenacity to what it were better to forget. Whatever we desire to keep a stranger from the heart should not be familiarized to the imagination. Vice is so alluring, that all the penalties appended to its indulgence, by the laws of God and man, are found unequal to its suppression; but if the charms of wit and humour be employed to palliate its criminality, and trifle with its punishment, we may anticipate the conclusion, and expect to see the day when its progress will be unresisted. Do not fancy that there is any class of men exempt from the charge of infection. The stately quarto, like a whited sepulchre, may hide its contents under a splendid covering, but death and destruction may be its inmates; rank and wealth confer no privilege, and afford no amulet to preserve them from the contamination of immorality, alike fatal in its effects to high and low, rich and poor.-B. S. H.

FLATTERY AND FRIENDSHIP.

EVERY one that flatters thee

Is no Friend in misery.

Words are easy, like the wind;

Faithful Friends 'tis hard to find.
Every man will be thy Friend

While thou hast wherewith to spend.
But if store of crowns be scant,
No man will supply thy want.
If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call.
If he be addict to vice,
Quickly him they will entice.
But if fortune once do frown,
Then farewell his great renown:
They that fawn'd on him before,
Use his company no more.
He that is thy Friend indeed,
He will help thee in thy need.
If thou sorrow, he will weep;
If thou wake, he cannot sleep.
Thus of every grief in heart,
He with thee doth bear a part.
These are certain signs to know

Faithful Friend from flattering Foe.-SHAKSPEARE.

AGRICULTURE AND GARDENING
IN JAPAN.

THERE is, perhaps, no country in the world so highly cultivated, nor any in which so much food is raised, on the same space of ground, for the subsistence of man, as in Japan; but unfortunately, the jealousy of the government is so great, as nearly to exclude strangers from the country, and render our knowledge of their modes of culture very slight and imperfect, from which, otherwise, much might be learnt, as they are conducted with much ingenuity, industry, and skill.

The land in Japan, as far as it has been seen by Europeans, is not, in general, remarkable for its natural fertility; it consists chiefly of clay or sand, but of course in so large a country there must be many varieties of soil. The land is cultivated by the spade and hoe; the plough is, however, sometimes used, and is either drawn by horses, oxen, or cows : even the steep sides of the hills and mountains are cultivated to their summits, which all travellers in that country agree, has a most pleasing and extraordinary appearance. They have no meadows, and very few fences to the fields, as the small number of cattle which they have are always kept the whole few horses, oxen, or cows, as they do not eat animal year in yards. The Japanese have no sheep, and but food, or use milk. The wheat and barley is sown in beds of about a foot in width, and the sa ne space is left between each bed. The corn is either sown in drills the length of the bed, or in rows across it: when the young plants are from eight inches to a foot high, the earth is dug out of the space between the beds, and laid between the rows of corn, so that the fields have the appearance, when the corn is young, of cabbage-seed beds, with trenches between them. The wheat is sown in November, and is ripe in June ;-the barley is sown in October, and is ripe in May. As there are so few quadrupeds kept in Japan, every possible care is taken of whatever will form manure. The economy in this respect often rendering the country disagreeable, and even unhealthy. All the refuse of the houses is saved, either in large earthern jars, or in holes; this mixture is formed into a liquid hodge-podge manure, which is carried in pails, and poured from a ladle on the corn when it is about six inches high. operation is performed twice to each crop of corn. The Japanese weed the crops of corn with the greatest industry; so much so, that Thunberg, who was a botanist, and visited Japan in quest of new plants, complains that in a long journey in which he expected to collect many plants, he could hardly discover a weed in whole provinces.

This

Rice being the principal article of subsistence in Japan, the greatest pains is taken with its culture. There are several modes of cultivating it, according to the nature of the ground. The most common method is, in April, to turn over the ground with a hoe, then, by means of raised borders, the land is laid under water. The rice is sown in beds, and when the plants are six inches high, they are taken up in tufts or small clusters, containing several plants. These are planted in the rice-ground, about six inches between each tuft; this work is always performed by the women, who wade about in the water at least six inches deep. The rice is ripe in November, it is then mown, bound up in bundles, and carried home The mere striking the ears against a band or any hard body, causes the corn to fall from the ears; but before the husk can be separated from the grain, a second thrashing or stamping is necessary: this is performed by placing the corn in a hollowed block of

wood, forming a kind of mortar, and pounding it with a wooden pestle,

Besides the great use of the grain of rice, the straw is of much importance, as the Japanese make their shoes of plaited straw. A pair of these is often worn out in a day, if they are much walked in. When the weather is wet, and the ground muddy, they are most uncomfortable to wear. Their large hats are also made of plaited rice-straw.

Barley, wheat, and coleseed, are all thrashed in a plain and artless manner, on straw mats, in the open air, and frequently before the doors of the houses, with flails which have three swingles. Buckwheat is cultivated, and of this the meal cakes are made, which are boiled, and frequently coloured; these are sold very cheap in the villages, to travellers. Several kinds of beans, peas, and lentils, are cultivated in abundance. Turnips are cultivated, and they grow very large, but from the nature of the manure, they have a very rank and strong taste, and strangers do not like them, though the natives eat them in great quantities, both dressed and raw. The carrots are of a yellowish cast; only a few potatoes are grown. Among the esculent roots, batatas is the most cultivated. Melons, both white and red-fleshed, are grown, and pumpkins which are used for soup. Cucumbers, which are eaten both raw and pickled. Conomen for pickling; calabashes, or bottle-gourds for flasks. For seasoning, they cultivate a new species of ginger, and the pepper-shrub, of which both the leaves and fruit are used. Various sorts of mushrooms are in great request, and occur commonly in the shops, dried for sale, and are in daily use for soups and sauces. The buds of the yellow water buck-bean are steeped in brine, and used for pickles. They also cultivate the red beet, fennel, radishes, dill, anise, parsley, asparagus, leeks, onions, black radish, lettuce, succory, endive, and many kinds of esculent vegetables not known in our gardens. The Indian kale is cultivated to a considerable extent, out of which the Japanese express oil for their lamps: in April, when it is in flower, the fields have a most pleasing appearance from the yellow blossoms. The sesamum is grown in many parts of Japan, and from the small seed an oil is expressed, used there, as in India, for dressing the food. The cotton or tea plants are cultivated to a great extent; also the vanish-tree, the camphortree, the mulberry for the num.crous silk-worms, and many kinds of forest-trees, some of which are peculiar to Japan. The desserts in Japan consist of many kinds of well-tasted fruits, which are cultivated in the gardens. Shaddocks, Seville and China oranges, pears, apples, plums, cherries, medlars of a very delicious taste, figs, grapes, pomegranates, Spanish fig, chestnuts, walnuts, nuts of several sorts, some of which are peculiar to these regions; two sorts of barberry, and several fruits not known in Europe.

Most of the natives of Japan take great delight in their gardens, and cultivate with much care, many kinds of flowers, and plant flowering-shrubs before their houses, and also form hedges of shrubs about their farms, on account of their beautiful blossoms. Nothing can exceed the beauty of the hedges of the maples indigenous to this country.

Like their neighbours the Chinese, the Japanese are very fond of double flowers, and have an endless variety of double-blossomed peach, cherry, plum, and many other varieties. They also plant dwarf trees in flowerpots, often with pumice or other porous stones, instead of earth. It would be endless to enumerate their favourite plants; of the Azalea and Chrysanthemum, they have numerous beautiful varieties.

[Abridged from PAXTON's Horticultural Register.]

FEMALE EXCELLENCE.

A TALE OF REAL LIFE.

THE sufferings of Lady Harriet Acland, in the campaign of Canada in 1777, are too interesting to require any apology for inserting an account of them in the Saturday Magazine. So distinguished an example of female heroism sheds a lustre on the annals of the family. It is related by Lieut.-General Burgoyne, in his State of the Expedition to Canada.

Lady Harriet Acland, daughter of Stephen first Earl of Ilchester, had accompanied her husband, Major John Dyke Acland, to Canada, in the year 1776. In the course of that campaign she had traversed a vast space of country, in different extremities of seasons, and with difficulties that an European traveller will not easily conceive, to attend her husband, in a poor hut at Chamblée upon his sick bed. In the opening of the campaign of 1777, she was restrained from offering herself to a share of the hazard expected before Ticonderoga, by the positive injunction of her husband. The day after the conquest of that place, he was badly wounded, and she crossed Lake Champlain to join him.

As soon as he had recovered, Lady Harriet proceeded to follow his fortunes through the campaign and at Fort Edward, or at the next camp, she obtained a two-wheel tumbril, a kind of cart which had been constructed by the artillery, similar to the carriage then used for the mail upon the great roads of England. Major Acland commanded the British grenadiers, which were attached to General Frazer's corps, and, consequently, were the most advanced post of the army. Their situations were so alert, that no persons slept out of their clothes. In one of these positions, a tent, in which the Major and Lady Harriet were asleep, suddenly took fire. An orderly serjeant of grenadiers, with great hazard of suffocation, dragged out the first person he caught hold of, who proved to be the Major. It happened that, in the same instant, she had, unknowing what she did, and perhaps not perfectly awake, providentially made her escape by creeping under the back part of the tent. The first object she saw, upon the recovery of her senses, was the Major on the other side; and, in the same instant, he was again in the fire in search of her. The serjeant again saved him, but not without the Major being severely burned in the face and different parts of the body. Every thing they had with them in the tent was consumed. This accident happened a little time before the army had passed the Hudson's River. It neither altered the resolution nor the cheerfulness of Lady Harriet, and she continued her progress, a partaker of the fatigues of the advanced corps.

The next call upon her fortitude was of a different nature, and more distressful as of longer suspense, On the march of the 19th, the grenadiers being liable to action at every step, she had been directed by the major to follow the route of the artillery and baggage, which was not exposed. At the time the action began, she found herself near a small uninhabited hut, where she alighted. When it was known that the engagement was becoming general and bloody, the surgeons of the hospital took possession of the same place, as the most convenient for the first care of the wounded. Thus was this lady in hearing of one continued fire of cannon and musketry for some hours together, concluding from the post of her husband at the head of the grenadiers, that he was in the most exposed part of the action. She had three female companions, the Baroness of Reidessel, and the wives of two British officers, Major Harnage, and Lieutenant Reynell; but in the event, their presence served but for little comfort. Major

Harnage was soon brought to the surgeons very badly wounded; and a little while after came the intelligence, that Lieutenant Reynell was shot dead! Imagination will want no help to figure the state of the whole group.

From the date of that action to the 7th of October, Lady Harriet, with her usual serenity, stood prepared for new trials: and it was her lot, that their severity increased with their numbers! She was

again exposed to the hearing of the whole action of that day, and at last received the shock of her individual misfortune, mixed with the intelligence of the general calamity. The troops were defeated, and Major Acland, desperately wounded, was a prisoner. The day of the 8th, was passed by Lady Harriet and her companions in common anxiety; not a tent nor a shed was standing, except what belonged to the hospital, and their refuge was among the wounded and the dying.

"I soon received a message from Lady Harriet," adds General Burgoyne, "submitting to my decision a proposal, (and expressing an earnest solicitude to execute it, if not interfering with my designs,) that she might pass to the camp of the enemy, and request General Gates's permission to attend her husband. Though I was ready to believe, for I had experienced the fact, that patience and fortitude, as well as every virtue, in a supreme degree, were to be found under the most tender forms, I was astonished at this proposal. After so long an agitation of the spirits, and exhausted not only for want of rest, but absolutely want of food, drenched in rains for twelve hours together, that a woman should be capable of such an undertaking as delivering herself to the enemy, probably in the night, and uncertain into what hands she might fall, appeared an effort above human nature. The assistance I was enabled to give was small indeed; I had not even a cup of wine to offer her; but I was told, she had found from some kind and fortunate hand, a little rum and dirty water. All I could furnish to her was an open boat, and a few lines to General Gates, recommending her to his attention.

"Mr. Brudenell, the chaplain to the artillery, readily undertook to accompany her; and with one female servant, and the Major's valet-de-chambre, (who had a ball, which he had received in the late action, then in his shoulder,) she was rowed down the river to meet the enemy. But her distresses were not yet to end. The night was advanced before the boat reached the enemy's out-posts; and the sentinel would not allow them even to come on shore. In vain Mr. Brudenell offered the flag of truce, and represented to him the circumstances of his extraordinary fellow-passenger. The guard, apprehensive of treachery, and punctilious to their orders, threatened to fire into the boat if they stirred before day-light. Her anxiety and sufferings were thus protracted through seven or eight dark and cold hours; and her reflections upon that first reception, could not give her very encouraging ideas of the treatment she was afterwards to expect. But it is due to justice, at the close of this adventure, to say, that she was received and accommodated by General Gates, with all the humanity and respect that her rank, her merits, and her fortunes deserved.

"Let such as are affected by these circumstances of alarm, hardship, and danger, recollect, that the subject of them was A WOMAN of the most tender and delicate frame, of the gentlest manners, habituated to all the soft elegancies and refined enjoyments that attend high birth and fortune; and far advanced in a state in which the tender cares always due to the sex, become indispensably necessary. But her mind was formed for such trials!" (M.

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THE SQUIRE'S PEW.

A SLANTING ray of evening light
Shoots thro' the yellow frame,
It makes the faded crimson bright,
And yields the fringe a gem.
The window's gothic frame-work falls,
In oblique shadow on the walls.

And since those trappings first were new,
How many a cloudless day

To rob the velvet of its hue,

Has come, and past away;
How many a setting sun hath made
That curious lattice-work of shade.
Crumbled beneath the hillock green

That cunning hand must be,
That carved this fretted door, I ween,
Acorn and fleur-de-lis;

And now the worm hath done her part
In mimicking the chisel's art.

In days of yore, (as now we call,)
When the first James was king,
The courtly Knight from yonder hall,
Hither his train did bring,

All seated round in order due,

With broider'd suit and buckled shoe.

On damask cushions, set in fringe,

All rev'rently they knelt,

Prayer-Book with brazen hasp and hinge,
In ancient English spelt,

Each holding in a lily hand,
Responsive at the priest's command.
Then streaming down the vaulted aisle,
The sunbeam long and lone
Illumes the characters awhile

Of their inscription-stone;
And there in marble hard and cold,
The Knight and all his train behold.
Outstretch'd together are express'd

He and his lady fair,

With hands uplifted on the breast
In attitude of prayer;
Long-visaged, clad in armour, he,
With ruffled arm and boddice, she.
Set forth, in order as they died,

The numerous offspring bend,
Devoutly kneeling side by side,
As though they did intend
For past offences to atone,
By saying endless prayers in stone.
Those mellow days are past and dim,
And generations new,

In regular descent from him

Have fill'd the stately pew,
And in the same succession go
To occupy the vault below.
And now the modern-polished squire
With his gay train appear,
Who duly to the hall retire

A season every year,

And fill the seat with belle and beaux
As 'twas so many years ago.
Perchance all thoughtless as they tread
The hollow-sounding floor

Of that dark house of kindred dead
Which shall, as heretofore,

In turn receive to silent rest,
Another and another guest.
The feather'd hearse and sable train
In all its wonted state,
Shall wind along the village-lane
And stand before the gate.
Brought many a distant country thro'
To join the final rendezvous.
And when the race is swept away
All to their dusty beds,

Still shall the mellow evening ray
Shine gently o'er their heads;
While other faces, fresh and new,

Shall occupy the Squire's Pew.-MISS TAYLOR.

LONDON:

JOHN WILLIAM PARKER, WEST STRAND. PUBLISHED IN WEEKLY NUMBERS, PRICE ONE PENNY, AND IN MONTHLY PARTS, PRICE SIXPENCE.

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