it breathed around his fine and pungent spirit; and every morning the Romans ran in crowds to read on its twisted back the bulletins of Pasquin. Satire, sheltered once more under the venerable name, was now as free as ever. The pontifical police retired discomfited; libels and lampoons became anew the order of the day; and Rome was never off the grin for a moment. A collection of the sayings of Pasquin would be a curious work; but more curious, we fear, than amusing, since the associations of the time which gave pungency to the wit would now be wanting. A few political squibs are all that are preserved, and even these are not very remarkable to us of the present generation. But Pasquin did not merely speak in his eloquent placards; he assumed, on great occasions, a befitting costume, and became thus one of the dramatis persona. Nor was he always a railer or jester; sometimes, in deference to public honour and virtue, he converted his natural grin into an approving smile. This was a policy which the professional wits of our own day would do well to follow. There is nothing so dull as a jest-book, and nothing so tame and stingless as an unbroken succession of satires. In 1571, when Colonna returned in triumph from the battle of Lepanto, he found Pasquin clothed in warrior's garb, with his helmet surmounted by the watchful dragon, and in his hand the bloody head of the Turkish prince, with a mortal gash on the brow. Twenty years after, when Gregory XIV., on mounting the throne of St Peter, passed through the street on his way to the Lateran Church, he received the homage of Pasquin, who had transformed himself, for the occasion, into a true courtier. He had restored his nose, and his mutilated arm, and wore a gilded helmet; carrying a sword in one hand, and a pair of scales, a horn of abundance, and three loaves, in the other. All this signified generally justice and plenty; but the loaves were a personal compliment to the pope, who had placed loads of bread in the public places, where it was sold to the people at a third of the usual price. shirt, which he explained by saying that the pope had made his washerwoman a princess. Sixtus made many vain attempts to discover the author of this insult; till at length he offered him his life and a thou the gibbet if he should be denounced by another. The sand pistoles for a confession, threatening him with terms were irresistible. The wit immediately presented himself at the Vatican, acknowledged his guilt, and demanded the reward. Sixtus was, as usual, just. He gave him his life, and the promised money; but had his tongue pierced, and his hands cut off on the spot, in order to prevent him from getting into any similar scrape for the future. This affair, it may be supposed, shut the mouth of Pasquin for a time; but by degrees he resumed his audacity, till Adrian VI., in a transport of rage, ordered the anonymous joker to be cast into the Tiber. What!' said he, in a city where we can shut so closely the mouths of men, is it so difficult an affair to silence a block of marble?' But one of his courtiers turned him from the project, by assuring him that it would be vain to drown Pasquin, since his voice would be heard all the same from the bottom of the river like that of a frog in a marsh. But the threat appeared to be of more avail than perhaps would have been the actual deed; for it is certain that the spirit which animated the statue became comparatively silent from that moment; and in the present day, the jests of Pasquin are heard only during the sitting of a conclave. In this brief memorial of Pasquin, it would be improper to omit mention of his rivals. The principal of these was Marforio, a statue discovered about the beginning of the sixteenth century near the arch of Septimus Severus, and eventually placed in the Capitol, The connoisseurs quarrelled about its origin as bitterly as about that of Pasquin; but although some would have it to be a Jupiter, some a Neptune, some an Oceanus, &c. it received its popular name from the place where it was found-the Forum of Mars. Pasquin and Marforio were rivals, inasmuch as the one represented the townspeople, and the other the aristocracy; but yet they were likewise comrades and accomplices, lending themselves to each other's jokes, like the Clown and Pantaloon of a pantomime. This was done by means of questions and answers. When Pasquin, for instance, appeared in the dirty shirt, it was Marforio's cue to ask him what he meant by such an impropriety. In fact the conferences between the two marble jesters became of public importance, and exercised a greater influence over opinion than is commonly imagined. Be virtuous and humble,' says Sabba di Castigline, for thus only can you escape the tongues of those two old Romans, natives of Carrara-Maestro Pasquino and Maestro Marforio.' All this, however, is out of the usual character of Pasquin, who generally mingled a sneer even with his commendation. He was a great patron, for instance, of Sixtus V., to whom Rome was indebted for numerous fountains; and he signified his satisfaction with the pontifex magnus by dubbing him fontifex magnus. One day a Swiss of the papal guard struck with his halberd a Spanish gentleman, who promptly returned the blow, and with such effect, that the Swiss died of the chastisement. Upon this, the pope caused it to be signified to the governor of Rome that he would not dine till justice was done, and that he wished that day to dine early. Everybody knew that it was needless to plead for the criminal's life; but for the honour of The aristocracy and the townsmen of Rome being his family, the Spanish ambassador and several of the thus represented, a third interlocutor was in due time cardinals interceded with the pope to have him deca- added to the society to speak for the people. This was pitated like a gentleman. He shall be hung!' was a facchino, found near the church of San Marcello, spoutthe reply; but in order to diminish the disgrace of the ing water from a barrel into a carefully-sculptured shell. execution, I shall myself assist at the ceremony.' The It was not, like the others, of ancient origin, being born gibbet was accordingly erected under his windows, and of a chisel of the fifteenth century; neither was there when Sixtus V. had his love of justice fully gratified, anything very remarkable in its form; but this made it he went in to dinner, thanking God for his appetite. all the more proper to represent the people. The fashion, The next day Pasquin was seen loaded with chains, however, did not stop here. Babuino, an old figure of a halberds, gibbets, cords, and wheels; and being ques- satyr, resembling more a baboon than anything else tioned on the subject, replied, 'It is a ragout I am car- (whence its name), put in its word; and then came the rying to excite the appetite of St Peter. Numerous Abbé Sevigi, another statue so called by the populace; other pasquinades were directed against the severities and finally, Madona Lucrezia, a colossal female, the of the pope; but they were too much intermingled with object of the rival gallantries of Pasquin and Marforio, the religious heartburnings of that day to be read with The court was at length in dread of a general conver much interest in ours. Sixtus, however, took every-sation among the monuments of Rome; but fortunately thing very tranquilly, being aware of the immunities of the fashion extended no further than the six we have Pasquin; till, unluckily, the satirist attacked the dig- mentioned; and even these, after a time, grew tired of nity of his family in the person of his sister Camilla repartee, and returned to their marble repose. As for Peretti. This lady, before her brother's elevation, had Lucrezia, it has been surmised that, notwithstanding been indebted to her own exertions in a particular line the coldness and hardness of the materials of her heart, of industry for her support; and in allusion to the cir- she was in reality not untouched by the tender assiduicumstance, Pasquin was one day seen in a very dirty ties of her admirers; since, on the 25th of April in the CHAMBERS'S EDINBURGH JOURNAL. year 1701, the day of St Mark, and the festival of Pas- last of the day. PHILOSOPHY FOR FARMERS. THE relaxation of commercial restrictions has had, among other effects, that of giving an impulse to agricultural industry, which has long borne the reproach of being behind the age. According to some authorities, agriculturists generally have proved themselves the most unteachable of mortals, willing rather to obey a mechanical routine, than to be guided by true principles. Whether such be the case or not, the ceaseless labours of the press are doing much to remove ignorance in every quarter; and science, which gradually insinuates itself into all human operations, is doing for agriculture what it has done for manufactures-taking it out of the domain of uncertainty, and showing it to be equally dependent on natural and philosophical principles. With these aids, and a more active competition, there can be little doubt but that agricultural pursuits will soon become characterised by a high degree of commercial activity. It frequently happens that valuable scientific treatises are published, which remain totally unknown to the general reader, and thus become lost for purposes of practical utility. A paper of this character, on 'The Philosophy of Farming,' which appears to us to be deserving of wider circulation, has just made its appearance in the last volume of the Manchester Philosophical Society's Memoirs.' According to the author, Mr Just, all cultivation consists in bringing to the plant, or placing within its range of action, such a supply of material as natural means cannot furnish it In order to with in the situation where it grows. cultivate well, it is therefore as necessary to know what plants want, as for the builder and contractor of material to know what is required for building.' It is now pretty well understood that the growth of plants depends less on solid nourishment, than on fluid and atmospheric agents, of which the chief are carbonic acid gas, azote, and water. In chemical language, these comprise four atomic elements; and according to their presence in the soil, is the abundance and deficiency of the crop. On the continent, the investigations of Liebig and Dumas on this important subject, as well as those of scientific men in this country, have brought to light many important facts and data, the whole extent of whose application is yet a matter of research. Perfect drainage appears to be no less essential for fields than for towns: to secure an abundant supply of the elements above enumerated, the main requisite consists in due permeability of the soil, so as to admit of proper drainage. Hence it is that clayey lands, by favouring accumulations of stagnant water, are in so many instances unproductive. The disposition of the drainage should, however, be such, that the whole of the soil concerned in the growth of the plants is permeable by the air, promoting a constant filtration and succession of materials that contribute to vegetable formations. Rain brings down ammonia from the atmosphere, and its beneficial effect on lands is greatly increased where the drainage is good, as the atmospheric particles then find their way readily to the roots of the plants, and the mineral substances in the The two fundasoil are more effectually dissolved. mentals of all good farming,' says Mr Just, consist in thorough percolation of water through the soil, and a constant accession of air. Rapid drainage is not less important; main drains ought to cease discharging at the end of four or five days, instead of, as at present, as many weeks, ceasing only in long droughts; and to be dug so low, that the superabundant moisture of the surface shall be at once effectually discharged, with a constant current, otherwise the drains soon become It is evident that the mechanical choked by mud. arrangement of drains must vary with the nature of From discussing the mode of treating soils, Mr Just Scattering seeds,' he passes to that of sowing seeds. says, indiscriminately over the surface of the ground previously prepared for their reception, is no more sowing them, than tumbling stones into trenches properly dug for the foundation of a building is laying those foundations.' The object of sowing is to secure proper With germination of the seed. Seeds are to vegetables what eggs and ova are to animals; the condition of development of the latter is warmth and protection. seeds it is a proper degree of temperature, a sufficiency of moisture, and a free access of air, with exclusion from the direct action of light.' Hence the great advantage of complete pulverisation of the soil, that the seeds may not be buried deeply, and yet at the same time sufficiently covered: for, if within the influence of light, the chemical change of the farinaceous matter of the seed into living tissues is retarded; on the other hand, if buried too deeply, the plant is so much exhausted by its efforts to reach the surface, as to impede materially its future growth. A large amount of seed is annually It is not to please the eye only lost by falling into the hollows between the furrows of ill-ploughed land. that the ploughmen of Westmoreland, Cumberland, and other well-cultivated counties take so much pains in drawing their deep furrows as straight as a line can make them, and laying them so compact, that not a crevice between them can be found in fields of many acres; but it is to favour this grand and fundamental principle of growth, though perhaps in few instances The importance of these considerations bethis service may either be known or appreciated by them.' comes manifest, when regard is had to the physiology of seeds. The greater part of their substance is simple nutritive matter, intended for the support of the young plant until it can take care of itself. But if this nutritive matter is to be expended in efforts to escape from unnatural circumstances, it is clear that the capacity for growth will be diminished. A starved seed can no more grow up into a healthy plant, than a starved infant into a healthy man; and if so much care be bestowed on exposing steeped barley frequently to the air, to insure simultaneous germination, while being converted into malt, ought less care to be shown to 1 110 seeds while in the soil, when the food of millions is dependent on their proper growth? The waste and misapplication of manure in this country is deplorable, and have been so often complained of by writers, that it might seem supererogatory to insist upon it farther; but there are some subjects to which attention can only be successfully directed by constant iteration and reiteration. In many parts of Germany and in Belgium, the most rigid economy prevails with regard to all waste animal and vegetable matter, and its proper application to land. In China, the same course has been pursued for ages; and, according to Mr Fortune's recent work, is still maintained in full activity. The measures now in contemplation for the effectual sewerage of towns are fraught with incalculable advantage to the agriculturist; but without some acquaintance with chemistry, no person can be certain that the manure he applies is that required by the soil, and a distinction must be drawn between gerHighly azotised manures mination and vegetation. are favourable to the latter process, but unfavourable to the former. Mr Just says, 'Guano sown along with the seeds of turnips prevents their germination, whereas, when scattered over the soil, or buried in the drills beneath the seeds, it promotes the vegetation of the plants to a very great extent afterwards. The same is the case when liquid manure, from banks in farm-yards, is applied to soils previously to sowing the seeds. I have known turnips sown on ground so treated fail to germinate entirely; and by injudicious application of night-soil, as a dressing for crops of barley, I have seen numbers of the grain totally destroyed by contact with it, and those which escaped pushed on to such a rank vegetation after this destruction, that they could neither fructify properly nor ripen.' The same principle holds good with regard to propagation by means of buds and tubers; and here, at the risk of prolonging what is felt by many to be a wearisome subject, we quote Mr Just's observations on the treatment of the potato. The cuttings of potatoes,' he writes, or the whole tubers which we plant, have to undergo a similar change in spritting as seeds undergo in germination, and require similar conditions to favour that change and aid germination. Yet in our treatment of this most valuable and accommodating of all plants given to man for food, we err more against nature than in all others put together. Patient of every climate under the sun, we forget that it can be subject to any wrong, or require any of our care or concern for its welfare. Prolific beyond our wants, we have glutted our domestic animals with it, and employed it largely in the arts and distillery to contribute to our luxuries. Yet there is a limit to all things, and we are approaching the limits of the abuse which we can unrequitedly heap upon it. Something is wrong already both in the field and in the store; already it has partially failed in its germination during the spring; already it has become the prey of disease in its vegetation and maturation in the autumn. Nature is vindicating her right to be obeyed; and since we have neglected to learn from her by lessons of examples which she has offered, she seems determined to make us wise by dear-bought experience -to make us feel, that we may remember. The first law of nature against which we transgress with regard to the potato, is in our total neglect of the due preservation of our seed potatoes. If they are only good for food, we never inquire whether they are fit for planting. Yet were we but to reflect one moment, we should soon see how unnaturally we treat them. Nature, when she alone takes care of them, keeps them within the soil-like all other subterranean buds-during their season of repose; and because, in the warm climates, where they are indigenous, they cannot easily be cut off from a due temperature for their germination, she checks it by keeping them dry in the soil. We, on the other hand, dig them up from the ground, because we fear, and properly, the effect of frost upon them; but instead of keeping them dry, we heap them up wet in immense quantities on the ground, and cover them over there, to keep them so, with soil, thereby furnishing them, if they do not rot, with one requisite for germination; while the masses themselves raise and keep up the temperature to supply them with another, so that germination has not only commenced, but proceeded considerably, when we dig them up again for planting. Then, calculating upon the extraordinary degree of vitality with which nature has endowed the tubers, we pull off the sprits, cut up the potatoes, and endeavour to reduce that vitality to as low an ebb as possible before we plant them. If, by the spritting of potatoes, the whole of the diastase, situated just below the embryo in seeds, be expended, then there is no provision left for the conversion of fecula into saccharine matter for the formation of the first tissues of germination, and germination must therefore fail.' When it is borne in mind that the cuttings, weakened as described, are in most instances planted in highly azotised soils, surprise at the general failures which have taken place will be greatly lessened. The remedy consists in storing up the potatoes intended for seed in places perfectly dry and dark, and, instead of one large mass, in small heaps, so that all tendency to generate heat may be obviated. The precautions with regard to the aëration of young grain crops are equally to be attended to with the young plants of potatoes. Without frequent stirring of the soil while the roots are forming, and complete aëration or ventilation, however favourable other circumstances may be, proper growth is not to be expected. The objects to be striven for by the agriculturist and cultivator are of such importance, as to reward any degree of perseverance. Implicit obeNature is not to be forced or diverted from her dience to natural laws never fails of commanding suceconomy: the bringing to bear a little plain practical common sense on her multifarious modes of action, must tend to the realisation of the sound theoretical views of the chemist and meteorologist. cess. BARROW-BEGGAR S. MANY of our readers may not be aware that, some forty years ago, it was common, and still may be in some districts of Scotland, for mendicant cripples to be carried about the country in a handbarrow. It was incumbent on the individual at whose door the cripple was set down, to bestow the customary alms of a handful of oatmeal, or whatever largesse their bounty might prompt, and forward him or her, as the case might be, on to the next farmhouse-sometimes a few yards' distance, sometimes a mile-or, if not so forwarded, the beggar behoved to be lodged and fed by the person at whose door he was placed. In villages or small towns such conveyance was easily accomplished; but in thinly-populated country districts it was not unfrequently a matter of much trouble and inconvenience, where the great distance between the dwellings rendered it a positive burden. Occasionally, the house at whose door such lamiter was laid was tenanted only by females, sometimes by a solitary aged woman, or by an aged and decrepit woman and her equally aged and decrepit husband. In such cases the only alternative was to hire assistance, if it could be found; or if the party was too poor to pay, the individuals who brought them would resume their burden, and tramp on to the next dwelling; and as these barrow-beggars were generally peremptory and irascible in their manners, to get rid of them was usually accounted a boon. Thus these lordly sorners performed a sort of alms-gathering ovation through the length and breadth of the land. When I was a boy of ten years of age or thereabout, one of these pests was set down at the farmhouse where I was the herd. She-for it was one of the tender sex-was a large, sallow, broad-shouldered Amazon, with a world of well-filled meal-pokes hanging round her burly person, over which depended a piece of greasy blanket, by way of mantle, and which was secured at the throat by a large brass bodle-pin. She was dignified too, and evinced the bearing of a Semiramis-surly, imperious, and commanding as any beggar on horseback could be; and as the master and all the men and womenfolk were half a mile off, busy on the hairst rig, the goodwife-who, with myself and a halfwitted son of the farmer, a lad of sixteen years of age, were the only inmates of the town-was sadly perplexed as to the disposal of the vagrant. She had received a liberal aumus of two goupens of meal, bread and cheese, and a drink of milk, for which she evinced not a particle of gratitude, but sat on her well-stuffed cushion (I remember wondering if it could be meal) in sulky and offended dignity, till she should be conveyed to the next farm-steading, nearly a mile distant. After waiting nearly an hour, during which period this locomotive volcano manifested various symptoms of an eruption, by breaking out at frequent intervals in wrathful mutterings, at length a welcome relief appeared in the person of Randy Rob, a weaver lad from a neighbouring village, who at this juncture came up the croft whistling 'Maggie Lauder.' Rob had been fishing in the Earn, which ran immediately in front of the house; and to him the goodwife applied, with the promise of a liberal hire, to carry the lame woman to Cauldside, the next farm town. Rob readily undertook the job, provided Tam (the daft son) would carry one end of the barrow. Tam was delighted at the proposition; and after the two had whispered together for a moment, they were to be seen, with their portly burden, moving solemnly down the path that led by the side of the river, Rob in front, Tam behind. At first their pace was grave, then lively, then brisk, then zig-zag; anon, as if a new fancy inspired them, they danced and sung as they went, making the mendicant perform the most wonderful feats with her body and arms to preserve her equilibrium. At last, as if impelled by a new whim, they took to running; and as their path was close on the margin of the stream, and the jolting immense, the beggar woman was sadly put to her trumps to keep herself steady. The race was a short one; for as soon as Rob perceived that the footpath led them close to the river, where it was free of brushwood, he shouted, 'Noo, Tam!' and in an instant the beggar, bags, barrow, and all, were soused in the Earn. In another instant she stood up to her middle in the stream, from which she was not long in extricating herself. To disencumber herself from the saturated mealpokes, and rush after her now affrighted tormentors, was but the work of a moment; and the speed with which she gained on them was astonishing. The goodwife and myself had at the outset mounted the loupin'-on-stane to see the fun; and the worthy woman, with uplifted hands, uttered an ejaculatory Losh guide us!' as she beheld the beggar woman-she that had been born a cripple-overtake Randy Bob, and lend him a ‘lunt i' | the lug,' as she phrased it, that laid him on the craft as dead's a herring.' With Tam she was less successful, for Tam was lathy and light of foot, and mortal terror had lent wings to his heels. But the lame woman, after swearing like a trooper, and threatening to gi'e the hale toun a het waukening for't some misty morning,' took herself off, and was never again seen in that part of the country. As for Randy Rob, he always maintained that 'he kent she could gang, but never jaloused the jaud was sae souple o' fit, or he wad ha' ta'en sooner to his heels.' As it was, he said 'his lugs rang wi' that uncanny thud for sax weeks after.' OCEAN PENNY POSTAGE. UNDER the name of Ocean Penny Postage,' Elihu Burritt, that indefatigable apostle of peace-would that he could impress his hatred of war on his own countrymen!has for some time been agitating the project of extending the penny post to correspondence with America. As the weight of letters on ship-board must be relatively trifling, it does not appear to us that any physical difficulties could stand in the way of such a scheme, and in other respects we feel assured, with Burritt, that there could be no serious obstacles to the undertaking, at least none that would not disappear on an earnest consideration of the subject. Of course this consideration would require to be mutual on The real difficulty, we apprehend, will not be found with the part of the British and North American governments. England, but with the United States, which have not yet obtained even a domestic penny post. In the following observations of Burritt, contained in what he calls An Olive Leaf for the English People,' the argument as to how an Ocean Penny Post will pay' seems fairly reasoned:In asking England to give the world an Ocean Penny Postage, we do not ask or expect her to sacrifice a single farthing of revenue. Leaving for a while the consideration of the vast benefits which would accrue to commerce, civilisation, and Christianity, from an Ocean Penny Postage, let us discuss the important question, whether such a measure be practicable, or, in other words, whether it would pay; whether England would derive, directly and indirectly, as much revenue from a penny rate as from the present shilling rate of ocean postage. As the commerce and correspondence between England and America must be greater hereafter than that between any other two scadivided countries on the globe, and as provisions are made and making for more frequent steam communication between them than between any other two countries divided by such an expanse of water, let us first inquire whether an Ocean Penny Postage would pay, if established between these two kindred countries. In instituting this inquiry, we would present the evidence of certain facts connected with the present and proposed rates of postage between England and America. 1. The present shilling rate of postage, being exacted on the English side too, in all cases, and thus throwing the whole cost of correspondence upon the English or European correspondents, greatly diminishes the number of letters which would otherwise be transmitted to and from America through the English mail. 2. In consequence of the present high rate of postage on letters, newspapers, pamphlets, magazines, &c. a large in the English post-office-a dead loss to the department amount of mail matter conveyed across the ocean lies dead -the persons to whom it is addressed refusing to take it out on account of the postal charges upon it. 3. Under the present shilling rate, it is both legal and common for passengers to carry a large number of unsealed letters, which are allowed as letters of introduction, and which, at the end of the voyage, are scaled and mailed in England or America, to persons who thus evade the ocean postage entirely.' Of the benefits of an Ocean Penny Post, commercial and social, much could be said; as a means of creating and preserving friendship, it would be invaluable. of every person in America or England to write to his or 'It would,' continues Burritt, put it into the power her relatives, friends, or other correspondents across the Atlantic, as often as business or friendship would dictate or leisure permit. 'It would probably secure to England the whole carrying-trade of the mail matter, not only between America and Great Britain, but also between the new world and the old, for ever. 'It would break up entirely all clandestine or private conveyance of mail matter across the ocean, and virtually empty into the English mail-bags all the mailable comunder the old system, have been carried in the pockets of munications, even to invoices, bills of lading, &c.; which, passengers, the packs of emigrants, and the bales of mer chants. 'It would prevent any letters, newspapers, magazines, or pamphlets from lying dead in the English post-office, on account of the rates of postage charged upon them; and thus relieve the department of the heavy loss which it must sustain from that cause under the present sys tem. It would enable American correspondents to prepay the postage on their own letters, not only across the ocean, but also from Liverpool or Southampton to any post town or village in the United Kingdom; to prepay it also to England, by putting two English penny stamps upon every letter weighing under half an ounce. 'It would bring into the English mail all letters from America directed to France, Germany, and the rest of the continent, and vice versâ. 'It would not only open the cheapest possible medium of correspondence between the old world and the new, but also one for the transmission of specimens of cotton, woollen, and other manufactures; of seeds, plants, flowers, grasses, woods ; of specimens illustrating even geology, entomology, and other departments of useful science; thus creating a new branch of commerce, as well as correspondence, which might bring into the English mail-bags tons of matter, paying at the rate of 2s. 8d. per pound for carriage. It would make English penny postage stamps a kind of international currency, at par on both sides of the Atlantic, and which might be procured without the loss of a farthing by way of exchange, and be transmitted from one country to the other at less cost for conveyance than the charge upon money orders in England from one post-office to another, for equal sums.' CONTENT AND DISCONTENT. Two little girls went into the fields to gather flowers. IIere they found buttercups, dandelions, violets, and many other pretty blossoms. One of the children was pleased with everything, and began to pick such flowers as she met with. In a little while this girl had collected quite a bunch of flowers, and though some of them were not very handsome, yet altogether they made a beautiful bouquet. The other child was more dainty, and determined to pick no flowers but such as were very beautiful. She disdained to gather the dandelions, for they were so common; and she would not pluck the buttercups, for they were all of one colour, and did not take her fancy. Even the blue violets were not good enough for her. Thus the little pair wandered on through the fields, till they were about to return home. By this time the dainty child, seeing that her sister had a fine collection of flowers, while she had none, began to think it best to pick such as she could get. But now the flowers were scarce; not even a dandelion, a buttercup, nor a violet was to be found. At length the little girl begged a single dandelion of her sister, and thus they returned home. When the two children went to their mother, she asked how it happened that one had so pretty a bouquet, while the other had but a single flower. The children told their story, and their mother then spoke to them as follows:-'My dear children, let this little event teach you a useful lesson. Jane has been the wiser of the two. Content with such flowers as came in her way, and not aiming at what was beyond her reach, she has been successful in her pursuit, and has brought back a beautiful bunch of flowers. But Laura, who could not stoop to pick up buttercups and dandelions, because she wanted something more beautiful than could be found, collected nothing from the field, and was finally obliged to beg a dandelion of her sister. Thus it will always happen, my children, in passing through life. If you are content with simple pleasures and innocent enjoyments, such as are scattered freely along your path, you will, day by day, gather enough to make you contented and happy. If, on the contrary, you scorn simple pleasures and innocent enjoyments, and reach after those which are more rare and difficult to be obtained, you will meet with frequent disappointments, and at last become dependent upon cthers. Seek not, then, my children, for costly enjoyments or extravagant pleasures. Be industrious in gathering those which are lawful, and which are adapted to your situation. In this way you will cultivate a contented spirit, and secure your own peace. If, on the other hand, you disdain enjoyments that are suited to your taste and capacity, you will be hard to please, and perpetual discontent will dwell in your bosom. Thus you see that one course will result in something better than riches, while the other will bring evils that are worse than poverty.'-Green's Annual. DOGMATISM. Maintain a constant watch at all times against a dogmatic spirit: fix not your assent to any proposition in a firm and unalterable manner, till you have some firm and unalterable ground for it, and till you have arrived at some clear and sure evidence-till you have turned the proposition on all sides, and searched the matter through and through, so that you cannot be mistaken. And even where you think you have full grounds for assurance, be not too early nor too frequent in expressing this assurance in too peremptory and positive a manner, remembering that human nature is always liable to mistake in this corrupt and feeble state.-Watts. LAMENT OF THE 'RASH BUSS.' My food is the rains, and the dews, and the springs, I canna weel tell what offence I can gi'e, A sponsable, douce residenter like me. Frae cauld sleety showers I defended the lamb, That gratefu' played round me when simmer days cam'; The lark in my bosom oft biggit her nest, And nursed her brood till they flew from my breast; The paitrick, the pewheet, the wild bumble bee, Looked up to an auld residenter like me. When schuils they wad scale, how the bairnies wad scrow They thoughtna o' lesson, o' question, or creed, I wither and pine 'neath their merciless hands. There's Smith, and there's Parkes, and there's Mechi, and ithers, Although just no banded thegither like brithers, And that is to starve and exterminate me. They say that there's multiplied mouths on the earth A spirit' abroad-I must yield, and so forth; JOHN PALMER. CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE. SOME months ago, we announced that, after the 1st of May, we could not insure a supply of odd numbers of the above work, and expressed a hope that parties would not delay to complete sets Since that time, the stock of numbers on hand has been pretty nearly exhausted, and, with a few exceptions, we cannot now un dertake to furnish any separate sheets. In the course of October, the stereotype plates of the work will be either altogether cancelled or considerably altered, with a view to the issue of a new edition, the publication of which will commence, immediately on the completion of the Tracts, towards the end of November. This proposed new edition of the INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE will consist of the same extent of numbers (100) as that now with drawn, but will in other respects be very materially improved. Some subjects will be omitted, or greatly condensed, and others of a more enduring and important nature will take their place. The appearance of the work will be improved by leaving out the subjects will also undergo an entirely new arrangement, and the general title on each sheet. The principal aim of the publishers is to render the work more encyclopedic than it has hitherto consequently more worthy of the approbation which it has been been, more perfect as regards the later discoveries of science, and so fortunate as to secure. Prospectuses further explanatory will in due time appear. Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, High Street, Edinburgh. Also sold by D. CHAMBERS, 98 Miller Street, Glasgow; W. S. ORR, 147 Strand, London; and J. M'GLASHAN, 21 D'Olier Street, Dublin.-Printed by W. and R. CHAMBERS, Edinburgh. |