dress, their ordinary attire being subjected to a high temperature, for the purpose of destroying infection and all et ceteras-they work an hour, and then (grace being said by one of the children) have a comfortable breakfast of oatmeal porridge. So much of the day is spent in bodily labour,-so much in receiving instruction,-under the head of which we endeavour to communicate an extensive knowledge of the Bible, and a large amount of religious truth, for the purpose of bringing the child to God; since we believe that, while true of all children, it is emphatically and especially true of these, that the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom.' They dine at mid-day; and after having partaken, about seven o'clock in the evening, of another diet of oatmeal porridge, they are sent away happy to their homes, to cheer sometimes even these dark and dreary abodes with those lessons of piety and hymns of praise which they have learned in our school.' If there is one broad platform in all the province of humanity which admits of the exercise of a generous catholicity, it is this of Ragged Schools. The wretched barbarian children of the streets are mere nothings as regards a moral or religious nature-nothings as regards relationships. They have been physically born, but of the moral or religious birth they are destitute. The mere circumstance of natural relationship does not constitute fatherhood or motherhood; there are moral and religious obligations as necessary to a complete parentage as the animal relation; so that, although associated with their vile parents, we believe it to be the duty of Christians to take these children and supply them with ideas as well as with food and employment. We trust that this eloquent appeal of Mr Guthrie will produce as abundant fruit as did his former treatise; and that he will yet be able to look upon the scenes of his holy and generous labours, and to say with a swelling and happy heart, 'Lord, I thank thee, thy will is being done.' WILD FLOWERS OF THE MONTHS AND THEIR ASSOCIATIONS.-JANUARY AND FEBRUARY. BY H. G. ADAMS. hearts to the contemplation of higher and holier things than can be met with here, do the number and the radi afice seem to increase of those shining forms that sprinkle the expanse of that celestial realm where we are taught to look for our everlasting habitation. Let us dwell upon this pretty conceit-if you will call it so, reader-for a short time, and hear what the poets have said about it. Was it Robert Montgomery, who, describing a night scene, told how 'The vast concave blossom'd out in stars? We believe so. And how finely does the true American poet Longfellow allude to the saying of Goethe, that 'flowers were the stars of earth,' and moralise upon this apparently simple, yet in reality lofty, theme!— 'Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, Yet not wrapped about with awful mystery, Bright and glorious is that revelation, Written all over this great world of ours, In these stars of earth-these golden flowers.' We should like to quote on, but must forbear, with a recommendation to such of our readers as have not read this beautiful poem, to get Longfellow's Voices of the Night,' wherein this, and many more equally fine, will be met with. Then there is another American poet, N. P. Willis, who describes Mild Sirius, touch'd with dewy violet, and another, scarcely less beautiful, having reference, howdramatic sketch, the Vision,' which appeared in Ward's ever, to a greater orb of light, by Miss C. L. Reddel, whose Miscellany,' vol. ii., is full of poetic beauties. The moon, she tells us Lay like the lily of the heavens, placed In light amid the lochs of darkness.' WILD FLOWERS in January! Who but a mad-brained poet ever dreamed of such a phenomenon?' we fancy we hear some sceptical reader exclaim, as he reads the title of our paper; and in truth we have some doubts as to whether we ought so early in the year to begin again our search after those beautiful stars of earth' which have long since ceased to twinkle and shine amid the waving grass of the verdant mead, on which the rich sunlight loves to bask-or in the twilight shade of the umbrageous wood, consecrated Listen, too, how Dr Darwin addresses the starsto the sister spirits of silence and solitude-or on the brink of the gliding river, where, as they trembled in the breeze and glittered in the sunshine, they seemed of a like nature And the German poet, Rampach, what says he?— with the golden ripples that quivered and flashed beneath them, so that we almost expected to see them go whirling away with the eddying waters, or to note their sudden disappearance, or playful change of form and position, which is characteristic of those dancing shapes which spring to birth whenever and wherever light and crystal waters meet in dalliance; but, alas! We look in vain for verdant meads, whereon The river flows not, singing, as it goes, Unto the dancing wild flowers on its banks- For that soft melody, that gurgling voice, 'Tis night--behold the flowers, o'erblossoming the skies! Yes, well and soothly has it been said that stars are the flowers of heaven,' even as 'flowers are the stars of earth;' and when those beautiful adorners of our terrestrial and transitory abiding-place are all withered and dead, then, as though to compensate for their loss, and to lift our Flowers of the sky! ye, too, to time must yield, Frail as your silken sisters of the field.' 'The stars show fairly in the darksome night; And he is not the only one, by many, who have likened both stars and flowers to gems. The former have often been called the 'jewellery of heaven,' and the old pastoral poet, William Browne, describes a bevy of maidens gathering flowers, as engaged In plucking off the gems from Tellus' hair.' If Lord Byron might with truth exclaim'Ye stars, which are the poetry of heaven!' so, with equal truth, might we say 'Ye flowers, which are the poetry of earth!' For what the stars are to the concave above us-beautifiers and adorners-such are the flowers to the earth beneath and around us; both are equally suggestive of pure and ennobling thoughts, and of lovely images and pleasant associations. The latter have been likened to sunshine, also. It is Vincent Thompson who walks abroad When flowers, the scented sunshine of the earth, But we are getting away from the original simile, and will return to it with the lines of the Persian poet, Firdusi, a blossom we must have for our January wreath, which who describes how The bright sun sank down into the ocean: shall be twined around-what? Let us see: oh! a slender branch or two of the Laurustinus, which is yet gay with its load of clustering blossoms, seeming, as Phillips tells us, to say, 'I'll tarry with you till your friends return, and cheer the scene with my pale pink buds and pure white petals.' This, however, by the way, is not a native of our northern clime, and should not therefore have been introduced here, perhaps; but we are too short of wild flowers just now to be very particular; so let it remain to form the framework of our garland, to which we have attached, as the crowning beauty, the ivory-petalled Christmas Rose. And now for a bunch, to place on either side, of the sweet And now to conclude this short ramble among flowers, celestial and terrestrial, let us quote a piece of prose poetry, or poetical prose-which you please, reader-from 'Time's Telescope, for 1830 :'During the evenings of the spring and summer months, as the gentle twilight steals on the path, the eyes may be elevated from the carpet to the canopy of nature, and, as the gathering shades prevail, alternately admire the clustering Hyacinth and the retiring Pleiades-scented Coltsfoot (Tussilago Fragrans). This, again, is the tufted Primose and the advancing Arcturus-the tender Violet, whose fragrance indicates its lowly bed, and the soft azure of the evening sky. As the season advances, and other flowers spring from the earth, and other stars gain in the heavens, we may hail the opening bud of the Rose, and the bright star in the hand of the Virgin-the glow-place in 1806. It has been called the Heliotrope of the ing Poppy, and the red star Antares-the graceful Lily in all its varieties, and Gamma in the Northern Crown-while the gay and infinitely diversified Aster is connected with the return of the splendid train of Taurus, Orion, and their bright companions. Thus are these pleasing demonstrations of the Divine Being, which indicate so much tenderness and love, so associated with the magnificent display of creative power, that the mind cannot fail to perceive the same wisdom manifested, whether in the germination of a seed and the unfolding of a flower, or in the rolling of an orb and the support of a system— All acts to him are equal; for no more Than mould a dewdrop and light up its gem."' But the Flowers-the wild flowers!-what of them? Have none yet arisen from their winter slumber, and shown themselves above the earth, which erewhile lay wrapped in a snowy winding-sheet, and is now all miry with the fall of frequent showers. Well, let us search awhile, and we may perhaps find something to reward our trouble some cheering indications of vegetable life and beauty, which may assure us that the spring will ere long be with us once again fresh and joyous. Lo, here, now! what is this which looks like a single white rose fully expanded, only that the petals are larger than are those of the fragrant summer flower; and the plant, too, is altogether different, growing close to the earth, and having no need for fibrous stems and branches to support the blossoms-that is the Hellebore (Helleborus Niger), or Christmas Rose, a medicinal herb believed by the Egyptian and Greek physicians of old to possess extraordinary virtues, but not much used or esteemed by modern practitioners. It was thought to be a certain cure for madness, and hence arose the proverbial saying applied to persons whose mind appeared affected in any extraordinary way, naviga ad anticyramsail to Antichyra'-an island in the Gulph of Corinth, where the Hellebore grew very abundantly. Should any of our readers desire to look upon a picture of this winter flower, here is one drawn by the pencil of Darwin, who makes his plants personifications of the passions and emotions which animate the human breast: 'Bright as the silvery plume or pearly shell, And Chambers, too, describes it as Triumphant over winter's power, And sweetly opening to the sight; So wonderful seemed the blossoming of this plant amidst not an indigenous plant; but we find it in almost every cottage-garden, and as widely diffused amongst us as though it sprung spontaneously from the soil. The fragrant stranger has not been with us balf a century either; its introduction from the gardens of the Continent took open gardens, and Phillips has attached to it the motto. You shall have justice,' because such was the exclamstion of M. Villan of Grenoble, who found it at the foot of Mount Pilat-in his astonishment that it should not have been noticed and cultivated before. We know not that any poet has offered a tribute to this winter flower, whose pale lilac-tinted blossoms would perhaps be but seldom noticed were it not for the powerful odour, very much like that of the Heliotrope, which they exhale. When all other scents have fled, In the winter months so dreary And the heart grows cold and weary, Of the lagging spring--- And bright creatures on the wing, To exhale thy soft perfume, The Aconite-the hardy little yellow Aconite! we must have that in our wreath, for all that it is a very poisonous plant, and principally known as a garden flower. What uncomplimentary things Virgil and other poets have said about some members of its family we shall not stop to repeat, as the Monk's Hoods' will more properly come into another paper. We must just, as we twine its pale yellow flowers with the scanty materials we have been able to gather, compose a line or two in its praise: Thou comest, early Aconite, With blossoms fair, to deck the ground, May walk where thou art found; Content to beautify the earth. Though none thy modest charms may scan, Unnoted by proud man. And these, with a bunch of the Red Dead Nettle, which is In an old waggon -for he could not ride- But let us not be discouraged; for ever and anon the clouds break away, and glimpses of the blue sky are seen, and gleams of sunshine break out, and mild airs play around, on which are wafted the odour of the coming spring-flowers; and here we have a whole group of blossoms of the 'Primrose, first-born child of Ver, Merry spring-time's harbinger.' And, look! some Violets, too, 'Like reflected stains From cathedral panes.' Both somewhat before their time; none the less welcome, however, for being out of season, which circumstance prevents our saying much about them at present. And here, 'Like pendant flakes of vegetating snow,' as Mrs Barbauld hath it, swing gracefully to the play of the rude winds the Fair Maids of February,' the pure white blossoms of the Snowdrop (Galanthus Nivalis), that old favourite of the poets, in honour of which we could quote pages upon pages of mellifluous verse-the flower dedicated by our Catholic ancestors to the Virgin Mary, and always planted in the old monastic gardens-the flower so touchingly, winningly beautiful, that all who look upon it must love it Crocuses, like drops of gold Scatter'd o'er the deep brown mould,' and these other purple ones, that resemble so many tiny spires of lilac-tinted flame. We shall have more to say about these anon, and of the Hepaticas, too, with which 'Here blushing Flora paints the enamell'd ground, as Pope sings. But now we fancy that our garland is tolerably complete, and it is no such despicable one after all, considering the rigorous season of the year in which it is entwined. Since we sang our Dirge for the Flowers,' we have had little leisure and less heart to write upon floral subjects. This is our first offering to the new year; and if not so genial and hearty a one as we could have wished it-if not so rich in floral treasures as others have been, yet is it the best we have to offer. By and by we shall have the wreath of the spring months-the boisterous March, and the changeable April, and the merry laughing May-at our disposal, and then-but let us not promise too much. Will our readers accept, in place of the song with which we generally head our papers, the following paraphrase of a seasonable picture, drawn some centuries agone by the old Scotch poet and bishop Gawain Douglas?— The moors and spreading heaths assumed a barren mossy hue, Bereft of herbs and grass, the soil was dusky-hued and grey; And sheep and shepherd shelter sought 'neath rocks amid the glens. I slept till dawn, when clapp'd his wings the cock, and thrice he crew; I rose, my window oped, and gazed upon the landscape out: I hied me back unto my bed, and sank to rest again, THE YOUNG MAN'S COUNSELLOR. INDEPENDENCE. TRAIN a young man to that independence of character which rests much on his own resources. The rich and the indolent procure others to do for them what the less rich and more active do for themselves. The former, depending on others, surrender their self-command; the latter, trusting in their own exertions, are independent. Society requires for its order and harmony the reciprocal exchange of services and civilities, and cheerfully perform your part; but in the common occurrences of life, commit not to another what you can conveniently manage yourself. A youth, who, in early life, has been accustomed to make, repair, and handle the articles of his amusement, acquires the free use of his hands and the ready exercise of his ingenuity. On the contrary, one who, by dependents or friends, manual dexterity and prompt ingenuity, and seems to have is relieved from the labour of those little affairs, loses his the use of his hands only for the purposes of animal exis tence. points are analogous. Save a youth the trouble of thought, The laws of corporeal and mental training in many and you render him helpless and unfit for the active duties of life. Instruct him to think, to resolve, to act, and you prepare him to perform his part in the various relations of society. must be gradually relaxed as a youth requires the habit Youth must be governed, but the pupilage of authority of self-government, and this is one of the most important duties of parental authority. If authority is too soon resigned, the youth becomes wilful and imperious; if it is too long continued, he remains destitute of that confidence. which imparts decision to character. MISFORTUNE. In our several pursuits, difficulties may retard our course, and disappointments harass our mind; but these are ordained by Providence to sustain our energy and confirm our fortitude-to reward us with the pleasure of activity, and establish our confidence in divine goodness. Difficulties, disappointments, misfortunes, and sorrows in the formation of the character, to those who know how to profit by them, are as the dark shades in painting that are necessary to beauty, or the discords in music that are necessary to harmony. The evils of humanity, though grievous to our nature, moral discipline. Instead, then, of indulging in vain comare appointed by infinite wisdom for our physical and plaint against the common evils of life, let us meet them according to the beneficent intention which permits them, and convert them to the improvement of our virtues. The above rule, however, may be carried to a blameable extent. If we reckon among the natural and inevitable evils of humanity the adverse events which result from our own imprudence, folly, or vice, we do injustice to the Omnipotent in charging to his divine administration what originates from ourselves. Assuredly if one brings on himself any calamity by his own misconduct, Providence must be justified, and the charge fall on himself. But to every such evil divine wisdom attaches a penalty; and to mitigate or remove the penalty, the cause must be expiated by repentance and reformation. We are capable, to a considerable extent, of discovering the good and the evil that lie before us. Every physical and moral evil has its premonitions warning us of danger. If, with divine aid, we exert ourselves to foresee the evil, and avail ourselves of its warning premonitions-if we hold fast our integrity so that conscience shall not condemn usin distress we may say with pious resignation, 'This is from Heaven.' CHARITY. In a primitive and virtuous society, poverty is modest and unfeigned; and charity, which is the bounty of kindred sympathy, can scarcely be indiscreet. In a civilised and corrupt community, idleness and vice, under the garb of mendicity, frequently impose on humanity, and in such a state, charity requires the guidance of discretion. Commiseration and relief are due to distress; and to these duties we are called by every natural, rational, and sacred impulse of our nature. Sympathy urges us to feel for all that is human. Our noblest powers prompt us as men to assist the great family of man; and if we love our Maker, we will love our fellow-beings, and love delights in relieving distress Charity, at least public charity, consists not so much in the kind heart that commiserates and the bountiful hand that relieves, as in the prevention of poverty, the promo. tion of industrious habits, the establishment of forethought and frugality, the spread of useful information, and the elevation of the moral principle. Prodigality and parsimony deserve equal condemnation; it is the middle point between them where the rule of prudential expenditure is to be found. A person collects with parsimony, another spends with prodigality, but neither in the possession of the one nor in the expenditure of the other is there real enjoyment. Parsimony congeals the kind and social affections at their source; prodigality allows them to flow, but it exhausts them, corrupts them, and spreads around a noxious contagion. Preserve your desires in the happy medium of prudent economy, and avoid the sordid love of accumulating wealth, as well as the ruinous passion of squandering it. A prodigal wastes his fortune without honour and without enjoyment, and with his fortune loses his wealth and character. A wise man partakes of the comforts suitable to his station-neglects not to make a provision for the future-and while he lives to himself, he lives also to society in his acts of beneficence. FASHION. Attention to decent and becoming dress is a duty which a person owes to himself and to society. Slovenly dress below one's station, and superb dress above it, are equally censurable. The one evinces a careless or proud disregard of society, the other a vain and finical taste destitute of sound judgment. The beauty of an object is derived from the general harmony of its parts, and from its fitness for the place it occupies. Propriety of dress, therefore, consists not in what is grand and costly, but in what is modest and unobtrusive, expressive of correct judgment as well as of good taste, and in accordance with fortune, character, and age. Eagerly to follow after the fashion is the proof of a frivolous mind, as it is of an austere mind sternly to reject it. A man of good sense and good morals avoids singu larity; he yields to every innocent custom, and is singular only (when singularity is required) in propriety, decency, and virtue. To the customs of the world, when not inconsistent with propriety and decency, give up every trifling predilection, but not your integrity and peace. Hold fast your integrity and peace, and bravely resist when compliance would be the sacrifice of both. It is not when customs are familiar, but when they are new that we can appreciate their true character. We become insensible to the ridicule, and even inapitude of objects that are constantly before us, and also of ideas that are habitually present in our minds. The word fashion, not in dress only, but also in general manners, has an attractive charm to many people. If its influence is confined to trifling observances, it evinces a frivolous mind, and is ridiculous. If it infringes on propriety and decency of deportment it is highly censurable If it has the least tendency to induce compliances contrary to health or to virtue, no language can sufficiently repre hend it. PROCRASTINATION. Procrastination is the effect of slothful disposition; and, when confirmed into habit, it is one of the most pernicious habits of social life. Activity, punctuality, and perseverance -prime qualities in every human pursuit-procrastination opposes and counteracts, and, on this account, it is to be severely reprehended in youth. An action is to be done to-day, but indolence postpones it till to-morrow. The postponement of a necessary duty vexes the mind, and this secret vexation disposes it to shrink from the very thought of the neglected duty, as it does from self-reproach, and the duty is either wholly abandoned or negligently performed. A bad habit rises in strength, as the power to resist it sinks in weakness; and, if the duties of to-day are deferred till to-morrow, how is diminished power to combat suc cessfully augmented habit? If indolence shrinks from s duty to-day, it will be more inclined to do so to-morrow. Procrastination is not only the purloiner of time by its lethargic power, it also is the destroyer of the most precious qualities of the human mind. Observe punctuality in the distribution of your time and in the discharge of your duties; allot each portion of time to its appropriate duty, and defer not to the next hour what should be done in the present. Whatever you are engaged in give it your undivided attention-nothing judicious can be planned without reflection, and nothing meritorious executed without perseverance. END OF VOLUME II. (NEW SERIES.) EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY JAMES HOGG. |