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would have refused cousin Margaret's kindly- dinner finished, she rushed off to join her play. intentioned gift.” “ Poor little bird," echoed a fellows, and was soon immersed in the enjoy. sad little voice beside him ; t'was that of little ments of “Hunt the Slipper," &c. Nelly. Her face, usually so joyous, was bedewed And Dicky ?-where was he! Ah! he was in with tears—tears of self-reproach. She put his cage in the dining-room, and had to do withsome food into the bird's beak, for he seemed out the breakfast he was anxiously expecting. unable to feed himself.
The next day passed in the same way; either The same evening, Mr. Pryor took down Nelly was with her young friends the Misses Dicky (who was nov much revived), and or- Bond, or they with her. And poor Dicky? he dered him to be given to the little daughter of was again forgotten. Thus passed two more his gardener, as he considered Annie Besant a days, and then Mr. and Mrs. Pryor returned; very thoughtful child, and who would, he felt and after having kissed Nelly, Mr. Pryor's first assured, take every care of the poor bird. But words were-“Well, my darling, and howis your Nelly was in despair at the idea of parting with bird ?” him.' " Oh napa dear, don't punishme so severely | Nelly. who until that moment had foras to take Dicky away; let him stay. I will
gotten there was such a thing in the world as promise you faithfully to take care of him for the
her canary, answered in haste, “Oh! very future, and I will not be so heedless if you will
well;" for the poor little creature was no longer only let me have my pet again.” So earnestly
alive; he was lying at the bottom of his cage entreated, Mr. Pryor could not refuse his child,
quite dead ; his once bright eyes closed, and his and allowed her to have the bird again, hoping
, hoping pretty yellow plumage, now soiled and dull. it would be a lesson to her, and the means of | Yes,'« birdie" was dead! quite dead; never curing her of so much forgetfulness.
more would he welcome his young mistress “You must remember, my love," said her
with his sweet notes ; they were silent for ever. papa, "that being confined in this cage, it is
When she saw the piteous sight, she let the cage impossible for the bird to supply his own fall, and burst into a torrent of tears, which wants. If you need anything you ask for it,
soon brought her mamma to her. "Poor bird !" but poor Dicky has no language with which to
said Mr. Pryor, “your fate has indeed been a tell you he has neither water nor seed near him.
sad one; better far, if I had killed you the day Do. my dear child, bear in mind that he must |
I left home : you would then have suffered but
a momentary pang; while now, you have endured an awful death you consign him to, by omitting many days of agony. But you are happy now, to feed him."
poor little starved thing, and out of the power Overwhelmed by the severe, yet sad tones, of| of your cruel little mistress.” Saying this, and Mr. Pryor, poor Nelly promised, with many without looking at Nelly. Mr. Pryor left the tears, to do better, and saying in a most piteous tone, “I did not mean to be cruel-indeed, dear
| Little Nelly felt utterly miserable; she knew Thus she became the mistress once more of
but for her wicked thoughtlessness her dear
| little bird would be now alive. She would have Dicky, and he soon became as well as ever, and
given all her playthings, even her magnificent rewarded her on her approach, as formerly, with
doll's house, to recall poor Dick back to life. his pretty, shrill whistle. A few weeks elapsed,
She was so utterly ashamed that she determined, and then Mr. and Mrs. Pryor went to spend a
if possible, to cure herself of the deep-rooted few days with some friends who resided at some
fault which had caused all this sorrow. distance. On leaving, Mrs. Pryor earnestly urged her little girl not to forget or neglect her
Mr. Pryor had the bird stuffed, and placed in
a shade over the mantel-piece. Poor Nelly bird. As soon as her parents had gone, she
could never look at it, and if by chance her eyes ran into the dining-room to give him some
did rest upon it, they always filled with tears, biscuit, for he had become so tame as to hop for she knew that her cruel carelessness was on her finger. “Dear little thing, I shall never the cause of its being there, and at last she forget you again.” And with this exclamation, / begged her papa to have it removed. Nelly went to ask some of her young friends to At length Mr. Pryor, seeing that Nelly was come and pass the evening with her. Several really trying to overcome her sad fault, consented games were proposed on their return, and at a to remove the bird ; but if ever Nelly is guilty late bour (for her) Nelly went thoroughly tired of any forgetfulness, it is immediately replaced. to bed.
I am glad to say it has the desired effect, and The next morning she began, on awaking, to I have every hope that our dear Nelly is nearly think how she should amuse herself for that day;cured of those heedless habits which have and as soon as her lessons were over, and her 'hitherto caused so much pain to her parents.
OUR LIBRARY TABLE.
The HawK.-(W. Wheaton, Ringwood.)-l in the original, yet is carefully and smoothly Such is the title of a local magazine, under the rendered. The reviews are of a very interesting part or whole (if we mistake not) editorsbip of nature, and, amongst desultory matters, we noan old contributor to our pages, in the success tice some notes on “ Bees among the Romans," of which we naturally feel an interest. “The and an account of ancient “ Bulla” of Pope loHawk” premises a Monthly Hover from the nocent VI., found in the hand of a skeleton in Vale of Avon, centrally representing, and dele. Milford church-yard, near Lymington, and the gate of three counties-Hampshire, Dorset, writer, while probably laying too much stress Wilts- and may be properly expected, in the on the date of the pontificate of Innocentius course of such a circuit, to pick up many note- |(1352), as proving the period the Bulla has worthy, but hitherto unregarded, waifs and been in the dead hands keeping, pertinently strays of information-memorial of ancient draws attention to the custom of the ancient usages and lingering customs - and, in this Greeks (as of the modern Greek church to this respect, as well as in supplying a pleasant local | day) of placing a piece of money under the periodical, promises to become eminently useful. | tongue of the dead, and the probable relation Not having seen the prospectus of the publica- | this consecrated coin in the grasp of the tion we can only judge of its aims by the Catholic skeleton bore to Charon's fee in the number (6th) before us, which we find gives mouth of the ancient Greek. Such speculations some pleasant chapters on such household sub-are as curious as they are interesting. “S.,” who jects as “Coal," and "British and Foreign writes from Ascot, of “Bees among the Romans," Fruits,” subjects upon which, however often observes, in referring to Virgil's description ! written about, something interesting and even them in his fourth Georgic, that one of his chiel novel may be said. In the latter article, for errors was in imagining that they were ruled instance, the writer, in describing the pome | over by a king; but this error obtained among granate, introduces a charming fable, translated ourselves as recently as the reign of Charles from the poems of the Persian Hafiz, which the Second, when Moses Rusden, the King's will be new to many readers, and the philoso | Bee-master, put forth his work entitled “A phy of which is worthy the acceptance of Further Discovery of Bees : from his house Christian mothers,
next the sign of the King's Arms, in the
Bowling Alley near the Abbey in Westminster," When Shirine, the beautiful wife of Selim Kouhda, in the year 1679, in which he tells us, that was blessed with the first white almond-blossom of their love, she prayed Allah would watch over the
Every colony, swarm, or stock of bees consisteth of babe, and bless its young life with peace. The several bees, all of one genus, which for distinction Prophet, in answer to the mother's prayer, commanded
may be divided into three sorts of bees: viz., a king. that she should make a pillow of the leaves of the gul | bee. a common honey-bee, and a drone-bee, which sal berk (rose of a hundred leaves), and place the babe may be compared to three sorts of doggs for their upon it, under the shadow of the sweet elcaya tree; different shapes : thus, the king-bee to a most stately then shall the Peris strew over the couch the seeds of buck greyhound, the common-bee to a little fierce ball the pomegranate, which are laden with the sweet waters dogg, and the drone-bee to a great mastiff-dogg, of of peace; the nightingale and the goldfinch will sing which in their orderwhile she sleeps, and fair girls of Cashmere shall chaunt the zuruleet at her awakening. Shirine did as And forth with Moses Rusden. in chapter 2nd, the Prophet commanded, and the white blossom
enters into a particular account of the “ Royal rested under the shade of the elcaya, until the Peris bore her on their wings to Paradise. And Shirine
race of king-bees,” and informs us, not without, bowed her head, and cried : “Allah il Allah, we will
it may be, a secret reference to his Royal chant the zuruleet: my blossom has peace for ever.”
master's status, that “one of them equals the
value of all the rest ; that he hath a majestick In the pages devoted to poetry we find a very |
gait and aspect; that his tongue and fangs elegant translation of the Chevalier de Chate
are shorter than the honey-bees, which Nature lain's poem, " A Travers Champ,” in which the
seemeth in part to have denied him, as having tenderness and simplicity of the original are hap
no need to use either (as they do), being to be pily preserved. A poem in the Dorset dialect,
maintained as other princes are.” And much quoted from the third collection of “Poems of
more in the same quaint strain, which, with the Rural Life,” by the Rev. W. Barnes, is full of
book before me, might tempt to longer extracts; playful humour; and we also draw attention to
so, closing the thin, time-darkened manual of the translation of Horace's ode Ad Q. Delium the king's bee-master, we bid farewell for the (Book ii., ode 3), “ Æquam memento rebus in ar
present to the modest but well-filled periodical duis,” by W. Reade, jún.; which, though we do
which led us to refer to it. not fel the breezy, out-of-door air that perme. | PENNY Poems. By Owen Howell.- (LOR ates the interweaving boughs of pine and poplar don : G. Pitman, 20 Paternoster Row.) We
not quarrel with Mr. Howell for writing penny page the words "nine thousand;" but our poems; their price precludes criticism, and as sympathy is with his more abstract subjects his subjects are sufficiently harmless, we have "Life," “ Colenso,” in which there is much to no complaint to make at their publication. impress us with the conviction that the writer "Windsor Castle,” “ Westminster Abbey,” is a man of earnest and religious thought, free “ The Post-office," have in themselves sufficient from sectarian narrowness. In “Myrilla," interest to find readers, especially it would seem whether consciously or not, Mr. Howell echoes in the latter instance, which bears on the title. / Sheiley.
AMONG THE LOCH S.
I had resided for some time in Callander be-, others of the same stamp; but architectural fore making out the customary pilgrimage to beauty is neither missed nor wanted where the the Trossachs and Loch Katrine, the omission eye has such a wealth of natural beauty to rest of which by any visitor would infallibly stamp upon on every side. To me Ben Ledi, standhim a heathen and a publican. Think not the ing sentinel in the background, is a neverfact could remain unknown: everyone knows failing source of interest and admiration. To everything that passes, or that should pass and watch sunshine and shadow chasing each other does not, in this little highland village. Mean- on its slopes, or the mist creeping like white while, O my Public, do you know Callander ? smoke in and out amidst its fissures, or in rain Probably, for in these days of Hero-and-Intel- the thousand water-courses foaming white among lect-worship the adjacent lochs and mountains its rocks, whether the soft pink clovds of dawn have become a modern Holy Land, and many are blush upon its heathery breast, or the sunset the pilgrims that throng thereto. The palmer's glory crimson its lofty brow, or when, as now, amice, staff and scallop-shell, have their appro- its dark outlines stand out in bold relief against priate successors in plaids, shawls, kilts of the daffodil sky of evening, at all times and at tartans, real and fancy possible and impos- | all seasons Ben Ledi exercises a nameless fassible, sported by Smiths, Browns, and Robin- cination over me. song, with a jaunty audacity that must make the
* * * dust of many a chiestain start and tremble Thou art no false prophet. O daffodil sky: the under their feet with mingled wrath and won- morn has dawned, soit aud fair to look upon der. Relics abound-watch-cases, books, stock- / With staff in hand (umbrella), and wallet (ex-* ings, spectacle-cases, ribbons, lockets, paper- cessively neat travelling-bag), I stand at the cutters-pay, we verily believe night-caps and hospitable gate, talking to the lord of the castle Wellington-boots, all of that unceasing tartan, (Mr. ~ of the Dreadnought Hotel), while a not only tartan-proper but tartan-improper, in curious nondescript vehicle is being prepared cluding, I mean, the vast variety of fancy checks,
for the reception of myself and fellow-pilgrims. stripes, and glaring combinations that make A few moments more the horn sounds (entirely one long for a temporary attack of colour- a figurative expression), and away we start; blindness!
past silver Vennachar, with its rowans dipping Tartans should only be worn upon their na- their scarlet treasures in its clear waters-up tive heath, and there only by those who can hill and down dale for sundry iniles between prove an indisputable and time-honoured right wattled hedges, overhung with slender birches, to the privilege. Let me not be suspected of then highland pride and exclusiveness. My forbears, Anglicé ancestors, for whom I bear a “Merrily through the ferny dell, truly Scottish love and veneration, were Border
And down to the sleeping lake, rievers, or in plain terms gentlemen-thieves
The sunbeams dance and whisper low, (start not, 0 prejudiced Sassenach !), first in
The water-lilies to wake.” many a bloody foray, and clever at lifting many a fine herd of cattle from the English side of Achray, gleaming amid its fringe of alders and the Debatable Land --- peace to their gallant
birches, with its rugged guardian Ben Venue memory!
watching, with a jealous care, the Sleeping But I must not let my virtuous indignation Beauty at his feet. On-on, through the farcarry me wandering further. Know, then, if famed Trossach glen, and ere many minutes ignorant of the fact-and, if you do know, ac- | have passed we have reached our goal, and
wledge that the village of Callander consists Katrine lies before us. one lo ng backbone of a street, with irregular Hastily securing a small skiff (the “Helen," ribs branching off to the river on the one hand, of course), we launch forth upon its storied
the cliffs on the other. There is nothing in waters. Hour after hour slips by unnoticed as the village itself to distinguish it froin a hundred we glide in and out among the purple islands. Wherever the eye wanders it is greeted by per-| with the vain regret that she had not died there, fection of colour and outline, be it silvery strand in her innocent childhood, and been laid beneath or heathery cliff. At last we bid an unwilling the daisies in her own child-garden. Fade farewell to the Queen of Lochs, and resign our away, O lovely childish face! fall back, 0 boat to the care of its owner, a fine old speci- drooping branches, and veil that fairy figure men of a Highlander. With the air of a prince beneath your pitying shade! spare us the scenes he invites us to a seat beside him on his rustic of blood and horror that come crowding in the bench, where we accordingly ensconce ourselves train of that ill-fated lady! and smoke the pipe of peace. Shrewd, with a Let us wander round the islet, picking our keen perception of humour, our old boatman is steps through the debris of ruined wall and by no means a companion to be despised. A tower. Passing beneath an arch, which still - slight touch of condescension is visible, perhaps, stands perfect in sculptured beauty amid the
in his otherwise perfect manners; but can you surrounding decay, we find ourselves in the wonder? for is not his foot on his native heath? roofless precincts of the chapel. At our feet, and is not his name MacGregor? His unmiti, half hidden among the long grass, with upgated contempt for poor MacSmith, who is turned faces to the heavens, lie the stone figures pacing up and down before us, waiting for the of knight and lady. No name, no recordsteamer, is most amusing. His glance, at first nothing but the sculptured forms lying side-bycoldly contemptuous as it rests on neck-tie of side. Looking down on their motionless rest one tartan and kilt of another, becomes actually one longs for some fragment of the his. withering as it dwells upon the knees, which the tory of these two. Perchance, he, that stately unwonted presence of the dirk in the stocking knight, had bound the red cross upon his seem to have rendered of a sickly pallor. brest, and, who knows, fought side by side with
“Yous a puir sigbt, sir," he says at last; “is the Lion King in the bloody siege of Acre. he paid for making sic a fule o' himsel, think And she, that gentle lady, had she passed her ye?”
peaceful hours in household offices of love, Then comes the homeward drive, and concocting simples for her people, or sitting thoroughly do we enjoy it. The deep silence among her maidens, at the eternal tapestry, around us, the mountains looming from a sea embroidering with “skeely" touch the deeds of of shadow, the red lights gleaming from solitary | her warrior lord; or in gazing wearily from her farm-houses, the sweet odour of the bog-myrtle. turrets out upon the wild mountains, watching Ah, how the miles fly past! Then the lights of | for his return from the far eastern land? the village, a final flourish, and the pilgrim! But while we gaze at knight and lady with the stands once more within the hospice; extremely refrain of the records of old, 'And he died' ring. ready for the repast, consisting not solely of ing in our ear, the shades of night deepen over parched peas, the odours of which meet him
neas the odours of which meet him the haunted island, and the stars one by one with a hearty welcome.
come gleaming forth in the dark blue above. So we rouse ourselves, and laying a hand with a
reverential touch on the forms at our feet, we It is evening. The sun has gone down be- leave them to their quiet rest. hind the mountains, leaving a rosy track upon Unloosing the boat from its moorings, we the heavens: Nothing breaks the stillness save push noiselessly from the shore; listening to the lapping of the water against the boats the soft splash, splash of the oars in the water; moored among the ferns, or the occasional chirr we pursue our way till the boat grates upon the chirr of the partridges hid in the heather. pebbly strand. But ere we quit the lake, we Around us the lake spreads its quiet waters, turn for one last look at the dark island we have while behind our mossy-seat, dimly visible left behind us; and as we stand by the water's through the summer foliage, tower the ruined edge and hear its ripples on the shore, in thought arches of a long-past age. Ah, surely through we stand upon another shore, even the sands of the parted branches of yon grand old chestnut time, and through the moaming of the restless there gleams on us a sweet childish face, with wavelets at our feet, there is wafted over the wilful rosy lips and sparkling eyes, rich with gleaming waters the low murmur of strange budding promise of the fatal beauty that voices, the echo of unearthly music. Many " where'er it came brought destruction." Yes, and varied are the tones that blend in that wild this is Inchmahone, the little island on Menteith, strain. Sorrow and mirth, joy and woe, the on whose heathery slopes the infant-queen and distant sound of battle and the joyous harvest her Maries passed many a merry hour, shouting song, the infant's murmuring accents, the clear at their baby-play. Surely in after-years, when tones of youth, and the trembling voice of age; gazing from the lonely tower of Leven on the we hear them, separate and yet combined, in dark waters below, or later still, when weeping that strange melody-the sounds of Life and the weary hours in Fotheringay, this quiet | Death, island would rise before Marie's aching eyes,
THE LADIES' P A G E.
MATERIALS. -Boar's-head crochet cotton, of Messrs. Walter Evans and Co., Derby.
This circle will form a pretty cover for a | loop. At the end of the round fasten off and toilet-pincushion. It may also be used as a cut the cotton, centre for a couvrette, with smaller circles 7th. Fasten the cotton to the point of one of round it.
the loops, and work 1 slip-stitch, * 7 chain, 1 Begin in the centre. Make a chain of ten Make a chain of ten slip-stitch in the point of the following loop.
| Repeat from *, stitches, and join it into a circle. 1st round. 20 double within the circle.
sth. The same as the 5th, 2nd. i double. 17 chain. 1 slip-stitch in the 9th. Double crochet with 1 purl over every one double to form a loop; work round the 10th stitch. loop in double crochet. Increase once on each Before beginning the 10th row, prepare the side, and once at the top. Work once more in small circles of the outer border, which are double crochet round the loop, increasing as made separately, as follows:-Begin in the before, and working one slip-stitch at the bot- centre. Make 4 chain for a first long double, 7 tom of the loop. Six purl are worked in this chain, 1 long double in the first of the 4 chain second round over the loop, three on either side. | forming the first long double; work 2 more Each purl is composed of 4 chain. At the end long double, always divided by 7 chain; then of this round fasten off and cut the cotton. I again 7 chain, and fasten the last to the top of There should be four leaves similar to the first, the first long double. Nowwork in close crochet each divided by 4 double.
all round the star, adding one purl over every 3rd. Fasten the cotton at the point of one of fourth stitch. When you have completed sixthe four leaves, and work i double, * 5 chain, teen similar small circles, continue to work 1 purl, 5 chain. Now for the small pattern, / round the large one. joining two leaves together; make 3 chain, 1 10th. Begin upon the 3rd stitch after 1 purl, purl placed downwards, 1 chain, 1 purl placed and work i slip-stitch, 7 chain, 1 slip-stitch in upwards, 2 chain, 1 double between the two one stitch of a circle, between 2 purl; turn, and first purl of one leaf, 2 chain, 1 purl, 2 chain, 1 l over the 7 chain work one slip stitch, 1 double, double between the two first purl of next leaf, | i long double, 1 short treble, i treble, i long 2 chain, 1 purl placed upwards, 1 chain, 1 pur treble, miss 3 stitches under the leaf thus downwards, 3 chain, 1 slip-stitch in the first of formed, and work 1 double in the fourth; now the three chain at the beginning of the pattern begin a loop, formed of 1 chain, 1 purl, 1 chain, to complete the pattern, then 5 chain, 1 purl, 5 | 1 purl, 3 chain, I purl, 1 chain, 1 purl, 1 chain; chain, 1 double in the point of the next leaf, under this loop miss two stitches, 1 purl, and and repeat always from *.
two more stitches of preceding round, and then 4th. Between each leaf and each pattern | begin another leaf similar to the first. Work which divides them you have 10 chain, with a alternately one of the pointed leaves, and one purl in the centre; work 1 double in each of loop with purls. There should be sixteen leaves these chains, and 1 in the lower part of the in the round, and one of the smaller cirles 18 purl: also work 1 double in the point of each fastened on to the point of each leaf. To renleaf, and of each triangular pattern, so as to
der the work firmer, insert the needle at the form an entire circle of double stitches.
back of one circle, in the first space, from the
point where the circle was joined on to a leaf. 6th. All double crochet, increasing here and
Make a chain of six or seven stitches, and fasten there.
it by a slip-stitch in the point of the nearest 6th. * 5 double, 1 chain, 1 purl, 1 chain, 1 loop. Make a second chain of the same length, purl, 3 chain, 1 purl, 1 chain, i purl, 1 chain, and join it on in the nearest space of the next fasten the loop of chain and purl by 1 slip- circle. Repeat the same process for each circle. stitch, and repeat from *. There must be 16 | They are also joined together by a stitch worked loops in the round, and 5 double between each in one purl on either side.