there will remain one pound as sweet and perfect sugar as that which is gotten out of the cane; part of which sugar has been for many years constantly sent to Rouen in Normandy to be refined."EVELYN. "In America the Sugar Maple grows as tall as the Oak. Its wood is extremely inflammable, and is preferred on that account by hunters and surveyors for fire-wood. Its small branches are so impregnated with sugar, as to afford support to the cattle, horses, and sheep of the first settlers during the winter, before they are able to cultivate forage for that purpose. Its ashes afford a great quantity of potash. It is not injured by tapping; on the contrary, the oftener it is tapped, the more syrup is obtained from it. A single tree not only survived, but flourished, after forty-two tappings in the same number of years-this is further demonstrated by the superior excellence of those trees which have been perforated in a hundred places, by a small woodpecker which feeds upon the sap. A tree of an ordinary size yields in a good season from twenty to thirty gallons of sap, from which are made from five to six pounds of sugar. The perforation in the tree is made with an axe or an auger. The auger is introduced about three quarters of an inch, and in an ascending direction, and afterwards deepened gradually to the extent of two inches. A spout, made of the Elder or other wood, is introduced about half an inch into this wound, projecting some inches from the tree, and troughs of wood are placed under the spout to receive the sap, whence it is conveyed to the boiler. This sap flows for about six weeks in the early spring. During the remaining summer months, a thin liquor is yielded, not fit for distillation, but supplying a very pleasant drink."-DR. RUSH. The Sugar Maple is not the same species as that of our hedges. "The Common Maple may best be produced from the seeds contained in the folliacles or keys, as they are called. It is also propagated by layers and suckers."-EVELYN. HYMNS AND POETICAL RECREATIONS. THE ADVICE. WHAT'S forming in the womb of Fate? Why art thou so concern'd to know? Dost think 'twou'd be advantage to thy state? But wiser Heaven does not think it so. With thy content thou would'st this knowledge buy; No part of life thou'dst pleasant find; For dread of what thou seest behind, Thou would'st but taste of the enlight'ning fruit and die. Well, then, has Heaven events to come, But still in vain, if we forestal our doom, And with prophetick fears ourselves affright: Grand folly! whether thus 'twill be or no, We know not; and yet silly man Learns of his evils what he can, And stabs himself with grief, lest fate should miss the blow. Be wise, and let it be thy care To manage well the present hour, Call home thy ranging thoughts and fix them here; The rest no settled, steady course maintain; Within their bounds, now with full tide O'erflow, that houses, cattle, trees resist in vain. 'Tis he that's happy, he alone Lives free and pleasant, that can say With every period of the setting sun, I've lived, and ran my race like him to-day; To-morrow let the angry Heavens frown, Or smile with influence more kind, On God depends what's yet behind, But sure what I have seiz'd already's all my own. AN OLD AUTHOR. ON READING A LINE OF LORD BYRON'S, WHERE wilt thou find it? Thou hast journey'd far, And when that all was over, and no more There may be stillness, where there is not rest. That soon as you awak'd they would be gone. And was-except in durability. But then the sudden sounds, the feverish starts Rest was the opiate balsam that the flowers In vain has knowledge look'd for it-in vain THE WINTER BEECII. Ir is faded, that tree that was fresh on the mountain, Unwillingly staying, there hangs on it lightly A brown, shriven leaf, but its colour is flown; It stays there in sadness, and sighs in the breezes, As restless to go where its fellows are gone. Is it dead then, that tree that was fresh on the mountain, When late I went by it and saw it so fair? Will the leaf not return with its light hanging mantle, To cover that bosom so barren, so bare? The leaf will come back to the stem where it withered, But when shall the peace of the bosom return, The blight of affection-Ah! who shall repair it, Of things that are altered and things that are gone? Ah! never, O never!-The world's faithless promise G Arise then, poor child of affliction, and take thee Of flowers that not on this cold world have blown; But one spring awaits thee-its coming renews not EXTRAITS. Le THEODULPHE, évêque d'Orléans, fut, sous le règne de Louis le-Débonnaire, condamné injustement à une prison perpétuelle. Il y composa le cantique Gloria, laus et honor tibi, Christe redemptor, et le chanta le dimanche des rameaux au moment où le prince (qui pouvait l'entendre) passait processionnellement. chant inattendu d'une belle voix, une mélodie nouvelle, pure, simple, souchante, et les paroles saintes du cantique, émurent profondément le cœur du prince, et le portèrent à la clémence. Il fit aussitôt briser les fers de Théodulphe. FABLE. UN jeune homme priait sous un bannier, au bord de la mer. O Brama! disait-il, tu es tout-puissant, tu es bon; rends-moi heureux! Brama exauça sa prière: un flot jeta à ses pieds un coquillage entrouvert, et il entendit une voix faible qui lui dit : Choisis; ce coquillage te rendra heureux. Le jeune homme ouvrit le coquillage qui renfermait une perle des plus précieuses; mais sans y réfléchir, il la jeta sur le rivage, car la variété des nuances du coquillage avait attiré toute son attention. Un autre jeune homme trouva la perle, la ramassa et en acheta le trône des Indes, car elle étoit d'une valeur inappréciable. PRINTED BY BAKER AND SON, SOUTHAMPTON. |