field and its nut-brown occupants, away at once for a stroll; and contemplate amongst the multitude of leaves the delightful stillness, the peace which nature gives. Listen! How soft and how sweet are the sounds of that

Ringdove's plaint,Moan'd from the twilight centre of the grove, While every other woodland lay is mute, Save when the wren flits from her down-coved nest, And from the root-sprigs trills her ditty clear,The grasshopper's oft-pausing chirp-the buzz, Angrily shrill of moss-entangled bee,

That soon as loos'd, booms with full twang away!

These are a few of the delights of Summer. We might multiply them ad infinitum; but it would be a work of supererogation. One word more. Let all who are now in London, from choice, remain there. But let all such as hate the city and its "lying vanities," flee from it at once. We mean, of course, all who can do so. Make up a party to Chobham, and view the military encampment, speed away to Epping Forest, Richmond, Windsor; anywhere, so that you can breathe, and unbend your mind. The secret of health, is to give free play to the lungs. Next month, we will try our hand at the elements of "a Pic-nic Party," and see whether our pen will not work a spell upon the skin-dried Londoner; we will draw him out, if we can-and make him enjoy himself, nolens volens.

Only think of a man or woman hugging themselves up in a smoky city, in July, when, from the intensity of the heat, birds are sitting open-mouthed upon the bushes! Why, fishes are now being fried in shallow ponds; sheep and cattle congregate in the shade, and forget to eat. Pedestrians along dusty roads quarrel with their coats and waistcoats, and cut sticks to enable them to carry them across their shoulders. Cottagers' wives, too, go about their work gown-less; and so would their fair daughters had they not bodily fear of the Vicar before their eyes.

Oh! good folks! be warned in time. Leave the cities, and seek refuge in the country. Come and see the snow-white swans float above their own image on the water; and seat yourselves beneath the weeping willows, as they dip their green and taper fingers in the clear, cool lake beneath.

We have said, Come. We will be answerable for your not wishing to return very soon —that is, if you have a heart :

:

They love the country, and none else, who seek For their own sake its silence and its shade; Delights which, who would leave that has a heart Susceptible of feeling, or a mind

Cultur'd, and capable of sober thought?

Those who live in cities must be encum

bered with much rust. Nothing willnothing can rub this off, but pure air and the society of a cheerful friend.

FARE THEE WELL! BY HELEN HETHERINGTON.

FARE THEE WELL, my dearest mother,
Fate decrees that we must part;
Vainly dost thou strive to smother
Sighs that rend thy gentle heart.
By the light that shines above thee,
By affection's magic spell,

I will never cease to love thee-
Dearest mother, fare thee well!
Let us hope a brighter morrow

Will life's fairer joys disclose;
Oh I would not cause thee sorrow,
For the wealth the world bestows!
On my lips thy name shall ever

With affection's fondness dwell;
It is hard indeed to sever-

Dearest mother, fare thee well!
Do not weep, for God will bless thee,

Now with tears thine eyes are dim;
When the cares of life oppress thee,
Bear thy sorrows unto Him.
Tell Him too the doubts that grieve thee;
He will every fear dispel,-
To His faithful care I leave thee,
Dearest mother, fare thee well!
Fond remembrance o'er me stealing
Speaks of many a happy day,
When in joyous childhood kneeling

At thy feet I learned to pray.
Scenes of home, and joys that cheer it,
Shall life's anxious fears repel;
Let thy smile again endear it-

Dearest mother, fare thee well!
Cheerful thoughts in retrospection
Ne'er from memory shall depart,
And thy look of fond affection

Still shall bless and cheer my heart. See! the flowing sails above thee

With light breezes proudly swell; Heaven is witness that I love theeDearest mother, fare thee well! Ere the day dawns on the morrow,

I shall brave the boundless sea; Heaven shield thy path from sorrow, God will bless and comfort thee. If in thought or word I grieve thee,

Let these tears my anguish tell; Hark! the signal! I must leave theeDEAREST MOTHER, FARE THEE WELL!

TRUE RELIGION.

He fears GOD most, and lives the best life, who is unwearied in well-doing. Long faces and sanctified looks, are marks of hypocrisy. An "honest " When we " love one another," we are fulfilling heart invariably produces a cheerful countenance. the Divine Command. "God is Love." We do glory in the religion of our fore-fathers,-albeit it is so nearly extinct !

MORE ABOUT THE HONEY BEE.

HAVING UNFORTUNATELY, MR. EDITOR, a good deal of leisure time just now, I will, if you will allow me space in your JOURNAL, endeavor to call to mind a few observations made last summer, and put them together for the amusement and edification of your readers.

In so far as I can recollect, the spring of 1852 was the worst, and the swarms the latest, I ever knew. My first swarm did not come off till the 4th of July. About Easter, the old stocks had collected a considerable quantity of honey, but afterwards it became very much reduced. In ordinary seasons, I never expect the stock of honey to increase after July; but last year was an exception; and although up to about the middle of the month scarcely any had been collected since Easter, I think I had more, on the whole, from the same quantity of bees, than I ever remember to have had before. It was remarkable that, while this accumulation was going on, there were but very few flowers in the neighborhood; and frequently have I walked through the garden and pastures without seeing a single bee on the flowers. From repeated observations I found that nearly the whole of their store was collected from the leaves of the large trees, of which there is no lack in this neighborhood.

At this time, there was an unusually large quantity of honeydew, produced, as I suppose, by the check which the trees had experienced from the unkindly weather at the time of their early growth. I have on a former occasion stated that bees will often hang out and refuse to work in the glasses, although there may be abundance of food near them; and will at once commence work if the glasses are removed, and a hive placed in their stead. To test this again, I took part of the glasses off a hive, and covered the remainder with a box hive similar to the under one. The bees set to work, and so arranged their combs as to build the glasses in. I was aware that I should have some difficulty in taking them off, but having counted the cost I let them proceed.

The time having arrived when I wished to see how matters stood, I proceeded to separate the two hives. True enough, it was a difficult operation; but I succeeded in doing it, and managed to get rid of all the bees except about as many as would fill a common hen's egg-shell. These clung together; and so determined were they not to quit, that I had to separate them by force, when I found a queen in the middle; and I have no doubt that they were separate colonies working through the same entrance, as the bottom stock never appeared to miss the queen, nor could I prevail on her majesty to enter it.

On the 8th of July I was informed that some stray bees had just then taken possession of a hollow tree the hole where they entered was about thirty feet from the ground. I was anxious to possess them, and having a glass hive which I use for amusement, I determined to dislodge them. This was a difficult task, and took me the whole of the day till nearly dark; and then it was quite uncertain if I possessed the queen, for I did not see her during the whole of the time I was employed. Having so far succeeded, when they had become reconciled I took them home, and placed

them in the window of an upstairs room, where I could easily observe their movements. In a few days I had the satisfaction to see her majesty there, surveying the works and laying eggs for the production of a young family.

I will just observe here, that the progress of the inmates of this hive are usually noted down one or more times daily, for future reference; but unfortunately, I cannot now tell where to lay my hand on the book-a circumstance I much regret, as what I am about to state will lose much of its interest for want of the dates. Breeding and storing went on well for a considerable time, but, for some now forgotten reason, I omitted to visit them for two or three days; when, a friend wishing to see her majesty, I opened the door of the room to gratify his curio sity, and was much surprised at the discordant sounds which proceeded from the hive, instead of that delightful harmony always observable in a thriving stock of bees.

In vain did we look for her majesty-all was confusion and uproar-she had either abdicated her throne, or death had made her his prey. The once loyal subjects, formerly acting in concert with each other, and regular in all their movements, now gave way to despair, and seemed to vie with each other in the destruction of that work which they had so cordially united to construct. Devastation seemed now to be the order of the day. Without a ruler or a guide-no one "greater than the rest"-all appeared to go the wrong way, nothing but want and ruin staring them in the face; for they had commenced unsealing their stores, as if resolved to live well and easy while it lasted-none thinking it worth his while to add to the stock.

This went on for two, or perhaps three days after I discovered it, when, on a sudden, order was restored; as if some cunning old bee, not willing to give up all for lost till he was obliged, had been examining every cell, till at length he had found one containing larva apparently capable of being worked up into some nobler form than that of a common laborer-something worthy of more honor than the general mass of the working classes and having communicated it to the rest, they desisted from their work of spoilation to try what might be done to save their partly ruined home.

From the time I first missed the queen, I was often watching them to see what would be the result; and whenI perceived order was restored, I earnestly hoped to have the opportunity of seeing that which I had only heard of before, viz., the transmutation of a working to a queen bee. My hive is only wide enough for one row of comb, so that I can easily perceive all that is going on. In constructing a royal cell, it is commonly done on the edge of the comb; but here, being only one comb, it could not, or, if it could, it would have been useless, as there was no queen to deposit the egg. In order, therefore, to give it the appearance of royalty, and make it commodious for what was going on inside, it was necessary to construct it on the flat surface, about the middle of the comb, over a cell from which was to issue the young princess. This was difficult, as there was barely room between the comb and the glass.

Two cells were operated on at the same time,

but when it was ascertained that one was going on well, the other was abandoned. In due time the young princess appeared. The temporary erections necessary to convert a common cell into a royal one were demolished; the works were repaired; and everything went on as usual, except that the working bees appeared not to pay so much respect to the new as to the old queen. I imagine that from the circumstances under which she was created queen, she was incapacitated to become a mother, and that the workers, being aware of the fact, paid her less attention. There appears to be some departure from the common rule in destroying the royal cell after the birthday, as in ordinary cases several are to be found in the hive. It appears to have been quite out of place here.

Before I conclude, allow me to ask two ques. tions of those who are more experienced in such matters than myself. Perhaps some will say, here is plenty to convince any one that it is possible for the working bees to change the larva of the worker into a queen. I am not, however, quite so sure of this. I wish to ask if there may not be eggs at all times in the breeding season which would become queens; and should they be destroyed if there is no need of them? I also ask, what would have been the fate of these bees the ensuing summer, in consequence of the new queen being barren, and there being no drones in the hive?

I should have liked to continue these experi ments, but circumstances, over which I had no control, obliged me to desist.

F. J.

THE EFFECTS OF "STUDY” ON THE PERSON.

In general, the consciousness of internal power leads rather to a disregard of, than a studied attention to, external appearance. The wear and tear of the mind does not improve the sleekness of the skin, or the elasticity of the muscles. The burthen of thought weighs down the body like a porter's burthen. A man cannot stand so upright, or move so briskly under it, as if he had nothing to carry in his head or on his shoulders. The rose on the cheek and the canker at the heart do not flourish at the same time; and he who has much to think of, must take many things to heart-for thought and feeling are one. He has a world of cares on his hands, which nobody thinks anything of but himself. This is not one of the least miseries of a studious life. The common herd do not by any means give him full credit for his gratuitous sympathy with their concerns, but are struck with his lack-lustre eye and wasted appearance. They can not translate the expression of his countenance out of the vulgate. They mistake the knitting of his brows for the frown of displeasure; the paleness of study for the languor of sickness; the furrows of thought for the regular approaches of old age. They read his looks-but not his books; have no clue to penetrate the last recesses of the mind, and attribute the height of abstraction to more than an ordinary degree of stupidity. The majority go by personal appearances, not by proofs of intellectual power. Hence is their judgment erroneous; for they see through a distorting glass.

TO THE SOUTH WIND.

O SWEET South Wind!
Long hast thou lingered 'midst those islands fair,
Which lie, enchanted, on the Indian deep,
Like sea-maids all asleep-
Charmed by the cloudless sun and azure air!
O sweetest Southern Wind!
Pause here awhile, and gently now unbind
Thy dark rose-crowned hair!
Wilt thou not unloose now,
In this, the bluest of all hours,
Thy passion-colored flowers?-
Rest; and let fall the fragance from thy brow,
On Beauty's parted lips and closed eyes.
And on her cheeks, which crimson like the skies;
And slumber on her bosom, white as snow,
Whilst starry midnight flies!
We, whom the Northern blast
Blows on, from night till morn, from morn to eve,
Hearing thee, sometimes grieve
That our poor summer's day not long may last:
And yet, perhaps 'twere well
We should not ever dwell
With thee, sweet Spirit of the sunny South;
But touch thy odorous mouth
Once, and be gone unto our blasts again,
And their bleak welcome, and our wintry snow;
And arm us, by enduring, for that pain
Which the bad world sends forth, and all its woe!
BARRY CORNWALL.

OUR TAME ROBIN.

Truth is strange; stranger than fiction.

SIR ROBIN REDBREAST presents his affectionate regards to his staunch friend and advocate, the Editor of OUR JOURNAL. Sir Robin hopes the Editor will insert the following paper, written by one of "the many" to whom he is well known, and by whom he is well beloved.

Sir Robin would not have intruded his History in the pages of oOUR JOURNAL, had he not been given to understand that more than one person had maligned him; and imputed his familiarity and affection to selfishness-contending that COLD and WANT have alone been the causes of his constant visits. Sir Robin scorns such a base charge both for himself and family.

"It is now about two years since Sir Robin Redbreast made his appearance at the window of our general sitting room. He bowed and scraped most politely, and in language too plain to be misunderstood he intimated his wish and intention to join our family circle. He also conveyed his desire to be treated with great familiarity. In the same language he intimated his intention to sink his title, and be known as plain Bob. Now, however much we might have felt gratified by such a visit, there was an insurmountable difficulty in permitting Bob to enter our house. We had several cats! so a compromise was proposed; a small table well furnished with dainties was placed by the window; and Bob was tolerably well satisfied. He would (whenever we were occupied near the open window) hop in, take a minute survey of all that was going on, bow his

approval of being so indulged, and then bow himself out again.

At this time the sun was warm and bright; the trees were in full foliage; food was plentiful, and Bob took care to let us know that his wife was the most happy mother of five little robins. Time passed on; the winter of course did not make him less tame, and we dared not encourage him beyond his own domains, lest he should fall a prey to the cats.

When the spring arrived, we could not so firmly resist our little favorite's advances; and we so far indulged him as to permit him to come into the room for his breakfast. Regularly every morning there was little Bob, ready to hop in the moment the window was opened. One morning, great was our consternation to miss our accustomed visitor. Nobody had seen him that day, nor had his cheerful song been heard. Six weeks passed on; and deeply did we deplore our pet, and reproach ourselves for having let him come so much in the way of the cats. At the end of that time he returned. opening the window, in he flew; and gave such unmistakable signs of delight to be again with us, that we were overjoyed. As a faithful historian of his doings, I must say he never satisfactorily accounted for that absence of his.

On

Sir Robin, however, returned fully bent on making the amende honorable; for, although not free of the house, he devoted himself to us on every occasion when he could find us in the house. He would perch on the chairs, hop about the table, take tid-bits from the hand, place himself on the nearest spray, and sing as if resolved to charm us more and more. It is needless to trace his many endearing ways too minutely; my object being to present dear Bob as he is, rather than as he was. One treacherous act, early in the spring, caused the immediate expulsion of all the cats a fact well known to you, Mr. Editor; and I have great satisfaction in reporting that each feline favorite is now well and happy in their several homes.

What a day was that for Bob! The doors of our house were at once thrown open; he was as freely admitted there as he had been to our hearts. He took instant possession. Up stairs, or down; it was all one to Bob. He could find us out, and make himself perfectly understood. First he looked for a constant supply of food, and then, after a short time, enough for his wife as well as himself; then a small family was to be provided for. He next hinted, with divers and sundry bows and knowing looks, that a small glass of water would be an agreeable addition. This was conceded; and to indulge him still more, a bath was snugly placed. This was a most satisfactory arrangement; and indeed Bob's happiness was complete as soon as we could sit out all day, and he make one of the party.

And now, behold Bob, as I write (May 27th), seated under the shade of a large tree, has placed himself upon my desk--only a few inches from my hand one little foot snugly hidden amongst his feathers, and his throat indicating that we may shortly expect him to pour forth "the full tide of song."

Bob is what would be called extremely tame for a poor unhappy trapped bird; he will come

freely, and perch on the finger, feed from our mouth; and as for his song, we never have to wait for that. His life is an endless song of gratitude and love.

All this has been accomplished by kindnessunaided by bergamot, clipped wings, starvation, or any other cruelty. Where his intimacy will end, I am at a loss to guess even; for he has introduced five young grey robins that can just peck. They, too, come to the window for food already; and another party may probably be added shortly.

I hope I have now quite exonerated Sir Robin from the imputations against him; and I trust many will be inclined to have tame birds without depriving them of that liberty which they know but too well how to value.

Puss.

SUMMER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES,—No. I. WOMEN AND THEIR PARASOLS.

WHEN THE HEAT OF SUMMER visits us, and clouds of dust present themselves on every hand, the signal seems to have gone forth for men, women, and children, to become unnatural, and to disfigure themselves as much as in them lieth. Such "adornments " of the person as now meet the eye daily, are disgusting exceedingly; and will infallibly cause us to "speak out month. Animals we are, truly; and we approximate very closely to the genus monkey; but we are striving to go several degrees even below this! Nobody will contradict what we say, for a walk through any public street will confirm it. Mais revenons à nos moutons.

NEXT

A correspondent, who says he "writes with a green shade over his eyes,' entreats us to enter a public remonstrance with the army of fair wanderers who, at this season, go forth in all directions brandishing parasols with projecting ivory points.

Our correspondent says, and very justly, that the risk we all daily run of losing one, if not both our eyes, by the flourishing about of these silk toys-is fearfully great. It is so. We confess to going about from day to day in bodily fear; and we incur no little ill-will, with sometimes unkind words in addition, for covering our face with our hand while either entering or quitting a public conveyance-be it omnibus, or steam-boat. mad propensity to "flourish," is alike in each!

The

How is it we ask submissively-that women have so universal, so innate a penchant for poking one in the eye, or for scratching one's nose (the latter, let us whisper, often involves an unpleasant inference, or inquiry, as to who did the mischief!) with their parasols? With all our gallantry (the extent of which never yet was ascertained), and with all our patient endurance (well known to be expansive as the ocean), we cannot remain silent under this parasol infliction. However, "more in sorrow than in anger," we have spoken our mind; and there ends the matter.

Let us hope that our OCULISTS will not quarrel with us for having, perhaps, been the means of depriving them of many a patient. We should be sorry that OUR JOURNAL should prove an eyesore to anybody.