Mr Mowbray dines exactly at four o'clock, and is usually very punctual as to time, with the exception of the days when, to use his own phrase, he drops in to a sale.' Mrs Mowbray has the cloth laid at half-past three. The half-hour before dinner she spends in reading, for she says that it is not worth while sitting down to her work.' Having opened the INSTRUCTOR,' and after wandering through the region of Labrador, she gets into the more genal climate of China, when the maid pops her head in at the room-door, with 'Please, ma'am, I fear that the veal will be overdone.'

Her mistress casts her eyes towards the timepiece, and exclaims, Dear me! it is twenty minutes to five, 1 declare! I really do not know what has become of your master, Susan, unless he has gone to one of those abominable sales.' 'Oh dear, ma'am, I hope he hasn't!' replies Susan; for I am sure I am so plagued with them brass candlesticks and copper saucepans that he bought at the last sale. I'm sure, ma'am, it is not laziness that makes me complain of them; but when we have the gas in every room in the house, I don't see the use of having a dozen of brass candlesticks to scour every week; but they are a perfect joke to the copper saucepans, which, if left for only two days without scouring, turn the colour of the sun in a frosty winter day, and quite disgraces me when saybody comes into the kitchen, ma'am.'

Susan,' says her mistress, in order to stop her making any farther observations upon the bargains of her master, you had better go and take the veal from the fire, and put a cover upon it; your master must be home in a few minutes. I should think."

The timepiece in the dining-room had just struck six, and was answered by its more antique neighbour in the kirchen, when Mr Mowbray arrived, followed by a porter with a hurley. Mr Mowbray is in the best of humour, and gives the porter sixpence more than he is entitled to; then sits down to dinner. The veal is overdone, the gravy is congealed about the dish, the vegetables cold; but Mr Mowbray, although very particular on other days about his food, makes no remark. Indeed, he is so delighted with the purchases that he has made, which are of course all great bargains, that, so far from being inclined to find fault with any one, he would have smiled in the face of his mortal foe had he entered the room at that moment. Mrs Mowbray (in order to impress upon her liege lord the necessity of his keeping early hours) does not eat anything. But he perceives it not, for his eyes are on his plate, his mind is with his bargains. Mrs Mowbray finding that her want of appetite is not observed, gives a gentle cough, which attracts his attention, and he looks up and exclaims, Eh bless me my dear, you are not eating anything! What is the matter with you?'

Oh, there is nothing the matter with me!' said Mrs Mowbray; but I cannot eat at irregular hours, that's all.' I am sure, my love, I am very sorry,' replied her husband, that I should be the cause of your losing your dinner. But the truth of the matter is, that on my way bome, passing Dowell's, I saw a red flag out, and I just dropped in for a moment to see what they were selling. It was a sale of miscellaneous articles; such bargains! the things were going actually for a mere song,' as the saying is. I only wish that I had had fifty pounds in my pocket at the time. Susan,' said Mr Mowbray, as the servant was removing the cloth, you may bring in those parcels that are lying upon the hall-table; the one that is spon the grass plot,' he added, in a lower tone, 'I will bring in myself. The parcels, accordingly, were brought and placed upon the dinner-table before the delighted Mr Mowbray, who, taking two wax dolls out of a case, said, 'Are not these two beautiful creatures, my love? so splendiy dressed, too! Got them both for a guinea. They are With a guinea and a half a-piece if they are worth a farthing. What do you think of them, my love?'

They are certainly very pretty,' replied Mrs Mowbray,

and, I dare say, might be a bargain to many a one; but as we have no family, they are of no use whatever to us.' True, my love,' said her husband, after a pause, but they will not be lost, for you can make a present of them to your friend Mrs Green. She cannot complain of not having a family, for she's like the old woman who lived in the shoe, ha, ha, ha!'

We are not obliged to find Mrs Green's children in playthings,' replied Mrs Mowbray, somewhat peevishly. By the by,' she added, talking of making presents, our neighbour, Mrs Johnstone, was giving me broad hints, the other day, to make her a present of the rocking-horse for her son Billy; politely insinuating, at the same time, that we had no use in the world for it.'

Mrs Johnstone is a very impudent person to say so,' exclaimed Mr Mowbray, 'but she shan't have a bit of it, I shall keep him for a Billy of my own. That rocking-horse, he continued, cost me three pounds ten shillings; it was a decided bargain, to be sure; they would ask five guineas in the toyshops for one like it. But here, my love, is a bargain that will please you,' said he, untying a brown paper parcel, and producing a pair of India-rubber galoches; these will keep your old man's feet from the damp; they were knocked down to me at half-a-crown; they are an amazing bargain, for they ask eight shillings a pair for them in the shops. You cannot say that these are of no use,' said he, chuckling with delight.

They are of none to you, at least,' said Mrs Mowbray, 'for anybody with half an eye might see that they will never fit you; they are more than two inches too short, besides being a great deal too narrow?'

Eh! bless me! so they are!' exclaimed the astounded Mr Mowbray. That never occurred to me. I was sq struck by their being such a bargain, that I never once thought of their fitting me, I declare. However, they will fit the milk-boy to a very tee; you know, my dear, that we forgot to give him his hansel last year, so these will do in lieu of it.'

Pray, what do those three paper bags contain?' inquired Mrs Mowbray.

These are wafers, my love,' replied her husband. 'I got these three large bags for a shilling-which you must allow is a great bargain.'

Wafers!' exclaimed Mrs Mowbray; who uses wafers of this description now-a-days. They are not even used in the shops; the accounts are all sealed with wax now. What a size they are too! I declare they are as large as a shilling. What use can you possibly make of them?'

Never mind, my love,' said Mr Mowbray, I'll find plenty of use for them, I dare say. By the by, dear, did you not say, the other day, that we were in need of wine glasses? Here are one dozen and five,' he said, unpacking a small basket, and taking some globular-shaped glasses out of pieces of newspaper. 'Are not these fine large fellows?' pushing one towards his wife; they will hold double the quantity of your modern ones.'

That is certainly a great advantage,' said Mrs Mowbray, ironically.

Now, my dear, you need not look so very satirical," said her husband, for, to tell you the plain truth, it was your canary brought me into this scrape; for seeing that one of the glasses wanted a stalk, I thought that it might do him for a fount. These glasses,' he continued, 'everybody at the sale thought an amazing bargain. They just cost me fourpence-halfpenny a piece. I can assure you, that Colonel Toper was sadly disappointed that he did not get them. He just came in a minute too late. Talking of wine glasses, love, do we not owe the Johnstones a party?'

'Owe them a party!' exclaimed his cara sposa. 'Owe them a party! no, indeed, we do not, but they owe us two! Not that I want any return from them, for I am sure I can safely declare that their humdrum tiresome parties only give me ennui. Besides,' she continued, 'I have no patience with Mrs Johnstone, she is such a very rude, vulgar person; she has no intellect whatever; can talk upon no subject but her little ill-behaved monkeys of children. The blessing of having a family' is the beginning and

ending of almost every sentence that she says. But, indeed, I told her very plainly, the other day, that unless children were properly behaved they were anything but a blessing. She had not a word to say. Now, did not I serve her right, dear?'

Why, my love,' said Mr Mowbray, I think you gave her a 'broadside,' as our friend, Lieutenant Canvass, calls it.' What have you got under that piece of sacking that is lying upon the grass-plot?' said Mrs Mowbray, looking through the window.

Hem my dear,' said Mr Mowbray, 'I fear that you will not exactly approve of that purchase, although it is a most decided bargain. Hem indeed it would have been a thousand pities to have let it go. Hem! I wish you had only seen the scowl that my opponent, a red-nosed old gentleman, gave me when he saw that it was knocked down to me. I suppose that he was wanting it for some of his grandchildren.'

For his grandchildren! What! I hope it is not a second rocking-horse you have bought?' exclaimed Mrs Mowbray. Oh no, my love. Hem! It is not. Hem! I am not quite such a fool as all that. It is a very beautiful (hem!) double-seated child's carriage. It was the admiration of every one in the sale-room, I can assure you. It went for little more than half its value. It was knocked down to me at one pound ten shillings. Everybody said that it was an amazing bargain.'

'Dear me, what a waste of money!' exclaimed Mrs Mowbray; and not one article of the slightest use to us. You must be out of your senses, Mr Mowbray; there is not the smallest doubt of it.'

Indeed, Mrs Mowbray, I am very much obliged to you,' said her husband; but remember, ma'am, if I waste money, that it is none of yours, ma'am, for if my memory does not deceive me, I got none with you, ma'am. Notwithstanding this circumstance, had you gone and purchased half the contents of Kennington & Jenner's shop, I would not have said that you were out of your senses, ma'am.'

Susan, who, without eaves-droppping, heard the whole conversation, for her master's voice was not in the softest key in the world, hastily bustled into the room with the tea-things, and interrupted this very disagreeable conversation. Mrs Mowbray locked up the wax-dolls with a sigh, her husband carried the three bags of wafers to his study, remarking aloud that he would find use enough for them. Susan cleared the table of the wine glasses, which she placed in a press amongst sundry of their brethren; she next carried the India-rubber galoches to the kitchen, to be presented next morning to the milk-boy; and, lastly, brought in the child's carriage to keep company with the rocking-horse in the hall, and-harmony was restored.

A CHRISTIAN SLAVE.*

A Christian-going, gone!

Who bids for God's own image? for His grace,
Which that poor victim of the market-place
Hath, in her suffering, won?

My God! Can such things be?
Hast thou not said, that whatsoe'er is done
Unto thy weakest and thy humblest one,
Is even done to Thee?

In that sad victim, then,

Child of thy pitying love, I see Thee stand, Once more the jest-word of a mocking band, Bound, sold, and scourged again!

A Christian up for sale!

Wet with her blood your whips, o'ertask her frame, Make her life loathsome with your wrong and shame; Her patience shall not fail!

A heathen land might deal

Back on your heads the gather'd wrong of years;
But her low broken prayers and nightly tears,
Ye neither heed nor feel.

• In a recent work of L. F. Tasistro-' Random Shots and Southern Breezes '— is a description of a slave auction at New Orleans, at which the auctioneer recommends the woman on the stand as a good Christian!

Con well thy lesson o'er
Thou prudent teacher; tell the toiling slave
No dangerous tale of Him who came to save
The outcast poor;

But wisely shut the ray

Of God's free Gospel from the simple heart,
And to her darken'd mind alone impart
One stern command-Obey.

So shalt thou deftly raise

The market-price of human flesh and while
On thee, the pamper'd guest, the planters smile,
Thy church shall praise.

Grave reverend men shall tell

From northern pulpits how Thy work was blest,
While in that vile South Sodom, first and best
Thy poor disciples sell.

Oh shame! The Moslem thrall,
Who with his master to the Prophet kneels,
While turning to the sacred Kebla, feels

His fetters break and fall.
Cheers for the turban'd bey

Of robber-peopled Tunis! he hath torn
The dark slave-dungeon open, and hath borne
Their inmates into day.

But our poor slave in vain
Turns to the Christian shrine his aching eyes-
Its rites will only swell his market-price,
And rivet on his chain.

God of all right! how long

Shall priestly robbers at thine altar stand,
Lifting in prayer to thee the bloody hand
And haughty brow of wrong?

Oh, from the fields of cane,

From the low rice-swamps, from the trader's cell, From the black slave-ship's foul and loathsome hell, And coffle's weary chain,

Hoarse, horrible, and strong, Rises to heaven that agonising cry, Filling the arches of the hollow skyHow long! Oh, God! how long!

GLACIERS.

JOHN G. WHITTIER.

וי

GLACIERS are appendages to, and emanations from, snow mountains, belting those lofty formations with rims of ice to a considerable extent below the snow-line, or forming hard firm facades, upon the upper edge of which the superincumbent snow may be said to rest. They were supposed by many persons to be identical with snow mountains, and the word glacier was indefinitely applied to either the former, or glaciers proper; but observation has taught, and will teach any one who examines into their structure, that they are very different in their character, though they may be said to be in many respects of a similar nature. Glaciers may be termed the icy ramifications of snow mountains, being large or small according to the size of the latter, from which they emanate, and without which they could not exist. Their formation also depends upon | the form of the mountains upon which they accumulate, as well as the capacity of the snowy regions above to supply them with the matter necessary to support the constant liquefaction of the ice, and the evaporation which also takes place. The glacier begins where the snow mountain terminates, that is, at the snow-line; and as the snow cannot support the form in which it falls, through the whole season, if below the snow-line, it is changed from its granular or flaky condition into that of ice. In Switzerland there are many extensive glaciers, those on Mont Blanc alone amounting to seventeen or eighteen in number. These glaciers are largest where the mountains are gradual in their ascent, or are composed of several terraces that allow of the ice having a firm foundation, and which favours the gelufaction of the melted snow, by preventing it from running rapidly away, as it would do were the || mountain more abrupt. The water freezes below the snowline in consequence of the atmosphere being chilled by the great masses of snow above it.. Were it not for this circum

stance, operating upon the air below the snow-line, and the glaciers also preserving it below the freezing-point, the atmosphere would naturally be of a higher temperature. Where the mountains are very steep, and where there is no break to interrupt the almost perpendicular declivity from the snow-line to the surface of the earth, as at the Folge Fonden in Norway, large glaciers are never formed. There are only a very few depressions upon the sides of this otherwise almost perpendicular mass, and in these broken parts, or depressions, a few small glaciers have found a lodgement; but these occur on its northern and ||| western edges, and are the only phenomena of that kind to be met with in the whole extent of this snow mountain, the other sides being so perpendicular as to allow of the frequent descent of the snow in the form of small drift avalanches. The Alps, which are very lofty, and which, below the termination of the snow-fields, are interspersed with rocky barriers, and valleys, and immense shelves, present every facility for the formation of glaciers, which attain to an immense size, through the whole Alpine range, being indeed smallest on the sides of the snow mountains themselves. Wherever there is a ravine commencing on the very borders of the snow-line, and opening downward, there is sure to be a glacier formed, of a greater or less size, according to the character of the ravine. If it is very rapid in its descent, the glacier is terminated at a very short distance below the snow-line; if it is wide and tortuous, and terminates in a level tract, leading towards another facade, then the glacier is pretty extensive. Others, again. find support upon the great inclined plane of the mountain, and extend for several hundred feet beyond the snow-mass from which they are formed. These, however, are of very little account comparatively; and had it not been that there are others of very great and remarkable extent, it is not likely that glaciers would have been made the subject of scientific observation and discussion, nor that they would have given rise to splendid and most interesting theories. Glaciers are sometimes twenty miles in length, descending so far below the snow-line that they intrude upon the legitimate region of vegetation, and are sometimes environed by tall trees, and fields, and orchards. These are of course the largest glaciers, and are formed in valleys which slope gently and for a great distance from the snow mountains, and are enclosed on either side by a ridge which commences in the snow mountain, where the glacier also begins, and completely surrounds the same, rising to a considerable elevation. Large snow-fields are sleo requisite to supply large glaciers; for, even though extensive valleys may be favourable to their formation, if there is not a constant and sufficient supply of snow from above, the torrents which burst from the glacier's edge, and the continual melting of the ice at the borders of the same, would soon carry the glaciers away altogether, as all of them descend below the snow-line, and are exposed to a variable temperature. Some descend indeed to a considerable number of feet; others, according to their geographical position, reach to almost the level of the sea. In Switzerland, the glacier of the Lower Grindelwald reaches the lowest level, and is an object of great attraction to travellers, as it can be reached with more facility than any of the others. Its lower edge attains to within 3409 feet above the level of the sea, and 4708 feet of ice must be crossed from this elevation before the lower edge of the snow mass which feeds it can be attained, as the snow-line is found at an elevation of 8117 feet. The glacier of the Upper Grindelwald terminates at an elevation of 4260 feet, and that of the Great Aletsh, which opens into Valais, terminates, from the snow mountains, at 4418 feet shove the level of the sea. The other Alpine glaciers do not approach so nearly to the earth's surface, although in Norway, Iceland, and Greenland they approach the very borders of the water. Indeed, in the latter region the eiffs that front the sea and rise to several hundred feet sve its waters are almost entirely glacierial.

The glaciers of the Swiss Alps are the most famous and interesting, as they are the most extensive and varied in their aspect. The declivities upon which they rest are

generally lined with narrow masses of ice, which descend towards the lower levels, or valleys, between secondary ridges, like mother-of-pearl indented into wood. When the lower extremity of a glacier is attained, it is found to rise to a considerable height, like a bold crag, and to be broken up into elevated rugged passes. The great icemasses behind this promontorial ridge are also broken up by deep and rugged chasms, into whose yawning throats large blocks of ice seem tottering, as if about to fall, or along whose rims pieces of the most fantastic shapes jut up, like a jagged wall. By still advancing, the traveller reaches a great sea of ice, which undulates more or less, perhaps to an extent of three or four miles. This plain is also riven into parts by great fissures, which vary from a few inches to many feet in breadth, but which are sometimes of immeasurable depth and extend along the whole of the glacier. The ice at the lower extremity of the glacier is generally of a most beautiful blue, which often deepens into an exquisite green. These prismatic colours grow fainter, however, towards the snow-line, and there are lost in the white, where the glacier, as at its lower terminus, is again more broken than in the centre. Icy walls, sometimes rising to the height of sixty feet, gird the sides of the glaciers, and upon these walls masses of bare rocks of various sizes are lodged. The walls already mentioned, which run along the lower extremity of the glacier, are of the same kind, as are also those which frequently occur in its middle. These walls are called moraines, as large pieces of rock, on the surface of the glacier, and supported by ice, are called glacier-tables.

The ice of the glaciers is a different kind from that formed by water. In the latter, the ice during gelufaction takes the form of sharp-pointed needles, until these crystals of its transition state disappear in the formed mass. The ice of the former takes a crystallised form also, but its crystals are not spinated, but are polyhedrons of the most irregular shapes, being, however, more oblong than entire. Their surfaces are rough, covered with excrescences, and sometimes furrowed, and it is upon account of this peculiarity of form that these crystals become so easily compressed into a compact solid body. When the whole mass reaches a temperature which it is not able to sustain in a solid state, the crystals become loosened, but yet it is impossible to detach one from the mass without breaking it. When one is removed, however, the whole block may be taken asunder in crystals. In melting, the ice of the glacier maintains its apparent dimensions, the water running off by internal channels like veins, until, from exhaustion, the whole shell suddenly falls down and melts. This peculiarity in the constitution of the ice renders it cellular in its constitution, which may be easily observed by pouring a coloured liquid on its surface, which suddenly permeates through the pores of the mass, showing the interstices and defining the crystals. These crystals, by some singular law of affinity, are largest in the largest ice-blocks. At the lower extremity of the glacier they are of uniform size, from their deepest to their highest point; but when the glacier approaches the snow-line, it is found that the more superficial crystals are smaller than those which are more deeply embedded in the ice.

The smooth and glasslike surface of pond-ice does not find a parallel in the surface of the glacier: the latter is rough, and of different degrees of consistency, and not at all likely to allow of being skated upon. The variety of consistency is dependent upon the dual nature of the ice which composes a glacier. There are, as we mentioned before, parallel veins of ice running through the whole glacier, like cotemporaneous veins of quartz in a large formation of basalt. These veins are of a harder and more compact nature than are the other parts of the mass, and they are transparent and blue, while the others are of a dull, greenish, semi-transparent appearance. The blue ridges are not so easily melted as the other parts, so that they stand above them, like low dikes, marking the surface of the ice-field with a system of mathematical figures. The dryness of the surface of the glaciers, and the almost total absence at any time of accumulations of water, have led