GOOD INSTRUCTION IS AS NECESSARY AS FOOD. about midsummer reassume their notes in September, as the thrush, blackbird, woodlark, willow-wren, &c.-G. White. Why do birds congregate in hard weather? Because, as some kind of self-interest and self-defence is, no doubt, their motive, may it not arise from the helplessness of their state in such rigorous seasons; as men crowd together when under great calamities, they know not why? Perhaps approximation may dispel some degree of cold; and a crowd may make each individual appear safer from the ravages of birds of prey and other damages.-G. White. Why do we so often fail in rearing young birds? Because of our ignorance of their requisite food. Every one who has made the attempt well knows the various expedients he has resorted to, of boiled meats, bruised seeds, hard eggs, boiled rice, and twenty other substances that nature never presents, in order to find a diet that will nourish them; but Mr. Montagu's failure in being able to raise the young of the curl-bunting until he discovered that they required grasshoppers, is a sufficient instance of the manifest necessity there is for a peculiar food in one period of the life of birds.-—Knapp. Why have most nocturnal birds large eyes and ears? Because large eyes are necessary to collect every ray of light, and large concave ears to command the smallest degree of sound or noise. Why do stale eggs float upon water? Because, by keeping, air is substituted for a portion of the water of the egg, which escapes.-Prout. OLD TUSSER'S GOOD AND BAD HUSWIFERY.* ILL huswifery lieth Till nine of the clock; Good huswifery trieth To rise with the cock. Ill huswifery tooteth Ill huswifery trusteth For this nor for that; Or other must crave; Good huswifery nothing But needful will have. Ill huswifery moveth With gossip to spend; Good huswifery loveth Her household to tend. Ill huswifery wanteth, The longer to last. Ill huswifery easeth Herself with unknown; Good huswifery pleaseth Herself with her own. Ill huswifery brooketh Mad toys in her head; Good huswifery looketh That all things be fed. Ill huswifery bringeth Her coffers full fraught. Ill huswifery rendeth, And casteth aside; Good huswifery mendeth, Else would it go wide. Ill huswifery sweepeth Her linen to gage; Good huswifery keepeth To serve her in age. Ill huswifery craveth Ill huswifery pineth *Thomas Tusser, a quaint writer, is supposed to have been born about 1515, at Rivenhall, in Essex. In 1557 he published his "Hundred Good Points of Husbandrie," from which the above is extracted. Fuller says of him that he "was successively a musician, schoolmaster, servingman, husbandman, grazier, poet-more skilful in all than thriving in any vocation." EXCELLENCE IN ANY CALLING IS THE RESULT OF APPLICATION AND INDUSTRY. THE STEREOSCOPE. THE name Stereoscope, from the Greek words stereos, solid, and skopein, to see, invention, for exhibiting in true relief and apparent solidity all objects, or groups of objects, by combining into one picture two representations of these objects on a plane, as seen separately by each eye. If we hold up a thin book between our two eyes, with its back towards us, and at the distance of about a foot, we shall see the back and the two sides of the book when both eyes are open; but if we shut the right eye, we shall see with the left eye only the back and left side of the book; and if we shut the left eye, we shall see only the back and the right side of it. Or, to use a more homely illustration, when we shut the left eye, we see only the right side of our nose with the right eye; and when we shut the right eye, we see only the left side of our nose with the left eye. And in general, when we look at any solid object whatever, the right eye sees part of it towards the right hand not seen by the left eye, and the left eye sees part of it towards the left hand not seen by the right eye. Hence we arrive at the first and fundamental truth on which the theory and construction of the Stereoscope depend, viz.: When we look with two eyes upon any solid body or object whose parts are at different distances from us, the picture of it which we see with the right eye, or the image of it which is formed on the retina of the right eye, is different from the picture of it which we see with the left eye, or from the image of it which has been given to an instrument of recent is formed on the retina of the left eye. BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES. LET us consider these two familiar friends | Calyx; 2. Corolla; 3. Stamens; 4. Pistil. attentively. In the buttercup the natural leaves consist of many divisions, while in the daisy the leaf is in one piece; in both leaves, however, we find the veins, or fibres, of the leaf distributed upon a somewhat similar plan, viz., a central, or principal fibre, from which smaller fibres arise, and form a network of veins on either side. On cutting the stalks, moreover, and examining them with a magnifying glass, we discover a further similarity of structure; for we see that there are bundles of woody tissues symmetrically arranged around a central pith (d). Above the bracts we find the blossom, which consists of the following parts:-1. If we look at the base or back of the buttercup, we shall observe five small green leaves, as it were, supporting the yellow leaves of the blossom, (fig. 2, 6). Each of these green leaves is called a sepal, and the five sepals together form what is called the calyx, because they are frequently united at their edges, and thus constitute a cup (calyx) for the flower. Within or above the calyx we have five yellow petals which together form the corolla, a word that signifies in Latin a little crown or garland, and has been applied to this part because the petals (the parts of the corolla) are usually of a brilliant colour, and give beauty to the amined, but can be distinguished in their general outlines by the naked eye. Indeed, flower. If we remove these yellow petals, | quire the use of a lens to be minutely exwe shall find at the base of each (fig. 1, p) a small scale, or gland, which was at one time called the nectary, from the idea that it was the organ which secreted honey. It may here be appropriately pointed out, that in nearly all plants with branched stems and reticulated (net-veined) leaves, there is a curious relation in the number of their parts. In the buttercup before us, we found a calyx consisting of five sepals, then a corolla of five petals; and in the section of the stem we count five bundles of woody tissue; in the other parts of the flower we shall find also the number five, or a multiple of it. In all such growths the numbers four and five, or their multiples, predomi- at first sight, the distinction between the nate. Within the corolla are smaller stamens, which are outermost, and of a organs, which, though more difficult to dis- deeper yellow-and the pistils, which are tinguish, are more important agents in the the innermost, and have a greenish appearproduction of fruit or seed. These will re-ance-will be obvious. Fig. 2. E HIGH REGIONS ARE NEVER WITHOUT STORMS. RICH AND POOR. "Each one knows where his own shoe pinches." "TIS easy enough for ladies like her to talk of contentment and thankfulness; but if she were a poor ailing body like me, with five hungry children to care for, she wouldn't find it so easy a matter." "Well! neighbour, perhaps the lady has her own share of trouble though we don't know anything about it;" observed Mary Gray, to a cross, sickly-looking woman, who, as she sat with her arms folded, by the side of a few dying embers, gazed through her cottage window at a lady who had just stepped into a pony carriage, and driven away from the door. "Trouble!-and what trouble can she have in her carriage, with good clothes on her back, and fine house to live in, and plenty of money in her pocket to do what she likes with ?", "Oh! neighbour;" replied Mary, "there are as sore trials in the gentlefolk's houses as in our poor cottages. I lived ten years among them as lady's maid before I married; and many's the sad heart I've seen among them; for sickness and sorrow, and sin, creep into a palace as well as into a hovel." "But then, they have plenty of money to get all they like. Talk about it as you will, it is not the same thing with them as with us poor people. Theirs are fat sorrows; ours are lean ones. Oh! if I only had my poor dear husband alive as that lady has, I wouldn't grumble about any thing else." Mary saw that her neighbour, Mrs. Hill, was not in a state of mind to receive comfort from any thing she could say to her; so she only observed in a low gentle tone: "Yes; he was a good man, and a good husband; you had a great loss in him;" and then added, "I just came in to see whether I could be of any use to you or the children this afternoon." "Thank you, thank you;" replied Mrs. Hill, in a languid tone, as if the effort of speaking were too much for her; but seeing at the same moment her youngest child, a chubby, handsome boy of six years old, raising up the lid of a basket which lay upon the table, and peeping into it, she cried out angrily: "What are you about there, you little rascal? I'll teach you to peep where it does not concern you." And so saying, she gave him so hearty a box on the ear, as to send him roaring lustily out of the cottage door. Mary looked on silently at this outburst of maternal passion for a mere childish error; but her grave, sad look was in itself a reproof which Mrs. Hill could not endure; so she said, in an exculpatory tone: One must teach children to behave; or there would be no peace with them." 66 Many a less sensible woman than Mary Gray would have offered some excuse for the child, but she knew that that would only make matters worse; she therefore sought to divert Mrs. Hill's thoughts into some other channel. "I hope," said she, after a moment's pause, "that this warm weather may help to take away your rheumatism." "A thick flannel petticoat would do more for me than all the fine weather in the world," replied Mrs. Hill, sulkily. "I thought that the kind lady who is just gone away promised you one last week when she was here;" said Mary Gray. "So she did," answered Mrs. Hill; "but she said nothing about it to-day, so I suppose she forgot all about it: those great people haven't time when they go home to think of such poor folk as we be: I dare say she never gave a thought to it since the day she promised it.' Might it not be in the basket she left for you on the table there?" inquired Mary. "Oh no! she would have said so if it was. I'll be bound there's nothing but scraps in that basket. They think their leavings are good enough for such as we." Mary's mild countenance glowed with displeasure on hearing her neighbour speak so unkindly, so unjustly, of her fellowcreatures; but checking the utterance of words which came to her lips, she said quietly: "Had we not better look to see if the flannel is there ?" "Oh yes! the basket is not so large but that it can be easily emptied." Mary, having raised the lid, drew out first some packets containing tea, sugar, arrowroot, and one or two other preparations of nourishing food for the sick woman. Beneath was carefully folded a new flannel petticoat, and a neat, warm shawl; and, wrapped up in paper, at the bottom of the basket, was half a crown, wherewith to buy meat for broth. Mary, having opened out the petticoat and shawl, carried them over to Mrs. Hill. A faint flush came upon the WISDOM IS KNOWLEDGE PUT IN PRACTICE. invalid's cheek. She felt herself convicted of uncharitableness and injustice; for she had spoken bitterly of one whose careful kindness had thus provided for all her present wants. Being a woman of passionate feelings, her emotions of mingled gratitude and self-condemnation now found as full a vent as her vexation had previously done. "God forgive me," cried she, bursting into tears: "but I have wronged the lady, wronged her from first to last. What a wicked wretch I am to have done so! And she, so much better to me than I deserve!' And thereon ensued a torrent of lamentation and self-accusation, to which her neighbour listened in silence. Mrs. Hill beginning to sob violently, Mary offered her a glass of cold water, which stilled and refreshed her. Then for the first time, Mary ventured to observe:-"Yes, the lady is very kind and thoughtful. May God bless her for it! Oh, let us thank Him for raising you up such a friend in time of need, and may we put our whole trust in Him for the future !" At this moment, a group of beggars came thronging around the open door. They were Irish, as might quickly be perceived from their brogue and their tatters. "For the love of heaven, give a morsel of food to the fatherless childer and their starving mother!" "Go about your business;" said Mrs. Hill. "I am poor enough myself, without feeding a set of idle vagabond Irish." "Ah! then; may ye niver want the bit nor the sup as bad as we do this blessed day!" said the beggar woman in a doleful tone. "Heaven help us! When the poor look unkindly upon us, how can we expect pity from the quality?" Mary Gray, seeing that the wanderers looked worn and weary, thought they must be far poorer than herself; so she was on the point of telling them to follow her home and she would give them bread, when Mrs. Hill relented; for as her eye glanced at the table her heart was softened by the sight of "the lady's" good gifts which seemed to reprove her unkindly and suspicious spirit. that impassioned fervour belonging to the Irish character. "Mother," said Anne Hill, "they seem so poor and hungry! may I give them some more bread " "Not unless you choose to go without your supper!" "Let me give half of my share." The mother's heart was softened by her child's unselfish goodness. A tear fell on her pale cheek. Do so, my child." "And may I too?" inquired the little chubby-faced boy who had offended by look. ing into the basket. Mrs. Hill patted his head fondly; for although she had in a moment of irritation struck Willy, yet he was her favourite child. "Yes, my darling," she replied and so saying, she cut their remaining loaf and divided Anne's and Willy's into two, as they had desired. The blessings of the Irish family were once more offered with fervour. Mary Gray looked on with silent delight: for her fretful neighbour had learned through her children that there was a blessedness in self-denying charity which might be enjoyed even by those who were poor in this world's goods; and she had also learned by her own experience that there was no lack of sympathy for the poor among that class, of whom she had recently spoken with such bitterness and envy. Remembering that her half-hour's leisure was ended, and that she would be wanted at home, Mary bid her neighbour good-bye, promising to look in again on the following day; and placing within the beggar's hand a penny (all that she had in her pocket) hastened away. It was to a cheerless home that Mary returned; for despite her placid countenance, hers was no enviable lot. She had been disappointed in her husband, who, previous to his marriage with her, had been a sober, steady man; but in consequence of some losses, and through the influence of evil companions, he had recently been drawn to a different course of life. More than once had he returned home to her at night in a "Well! you shall not have it to say that state bordering on drunkenness, and her you went away empty-handed!" said she to heart sank within her as she beheld him the beggar-woman: and calling her eldest reeling in this condition to his own fireside, girl, desired her to give the beggar a piece—him, to whom she had fondly looked for of bread which was in the cupboard. The aid and counsel in the path of piety and child did so; and she coloured up with pleasure as she listened to the blessings which were poured out upon her by the woman and her whole tribe of children, with virtue. And yet, her domestic horizon, although a cloudy one, was by no means bereft of light; for she loved her husband too well not to bear with him and to pray |