the ladies so often felicitate themselves, a pleasure and a luxury; thus surpassing even the brightest achievements of the "magic paste " of Mechi. Yet even these yield to the Axyrite, or " Patent Metallic Shaving Stone for removing the Beard without the aid of Razor, Soap, or Water," which has no parallel in the history of useful inventions, except in the celebrated preparation of the Italian, that professed to remove the beard on the same conditions, but performed its office so effectually as, unfortunately, to remove along with it—the skin!
ACCORDING to the experiments of Chevallier and Payen on the hops of England, Flanders, the Netherlands, and the department of Vosges, those of the county of Kent afford the largest cones, and were most productive in useful secreted and soluble matters. Next to them were
The best-flavoured and palest hops are packed in sacks of fine canvas, which are called pockets, and weigh about an hundred weight and a half each. These are bought by the ale brewer. The stronger flavoured and darker coloured hops are packed in bags of a very coarse texture, like door mats, called hop bags. These generally contain about three hundred weight, and are sold to the porter and beer brewer. After the end of a year or two hops are reckoned to have lost much of their marketable value, and are then sold to the second-rate porter brewer, under the name of old hops. The finest hops are grown in the neighbourhood of Canterbury, but those of Worcestershire have an agreeable mildness of flavour greatly admired by many ale drinkers.-Ure's Dictionary of Arts and Manufactures.
Hark! 'tis October's stormy reign,
Chill Winter hastens on amain.
Beneath that black and stormy sky
The hasty scud is driven on high;
Diamond ice-drops gem the lawn
That sparkles at each gelid dawn,
The stiffened grass crisps 'neath the feet,
And early songs the wanderer greet
As slowly fall the shades of night,
And darkness yields to breaking light-
Songs that welcome opening day-
The throstle's trill-the linnet's lay.
While as grey twilight dimly glows,
And into broadest daylight grows,
Every glade and hillock gleams
Beneath the sun's refulgent beams,
And every break and rising crest
In glorious hues of gold is drest.
More and more loud the warblers raise
Their grateful songs of early praise,
Till musical is every grove
With hymns of joy, and peace, and love.
Now gracefully beneath the breeze
Bend the russet robed trees.
The varied lands with many a hue
Of bright tinged autumn meet the view.
Here the meadow's brightest green,
There the well-shorn stubble's seen,
While yonder lies the fallow field
Ready a future crop to yield,
Fit emblem of the vacant mind,
As bare, it spreads to sun and wind.
Farther still, in sparkling streams
The river winds, like beauteous dreams;
Meand'ring through the laughing vale
Just ruffled by the morning gale;
Its ripples raised in mimic strife,
Or chasing play, like things of life.
There the deep river onward glides
To its ocean bed, where mingling tides
Shall chafe and swell-one moment roar,
And then the stream be seen no more.
The chequered vest of sun and shade
Is widely cast o'er hill and glade,
And now the fervid sun-god gains
The highest heaven, where he reigns-
Sole monarch of the earth and sky
Enthroned,-on sapphire seated high.
Now from afar the smart rebound
Of sportsman's gun is echoed round;
A fluttering one moment's heard,
Then downward falls the wounded bird
While every warbler terrified,
Seeks deep beneath the break to hide.
Once more, the deadly barrel raised,
Soft silence flees, in fright amazed;
And smart, again, and yet more near
The crackling shock breaks on the ear;—
A rushing flight of many wings,
And then his prey the pointer brings.
Still'd for a while, the flail's fell stock
Refrains to sift the wheaten shock.
The rustic pauses from his toil
To look upon the sportsman's spoil;
A hearty hasty greeting given,
And then th' acquaintance brief is riven.
The equal flail resumes its stroke,
And winds again the wagon's spoke.
Again is heard the creaking wain,
As wheel to wheel gives plain for plain.
Far, by the clump the ploughers speed-
No more the cheering sport they heed,
But onward till the slanting ray
Gives notice of departing day,
And lengthening shadows, cast before,
Tell that the hours of toil are o'er,
Their blessing,-yea, their curse,-enjoy,
That curse which gave their hands employ.
Thus God in graciousness has sent
Joy with sorrow closely blent.
Sorrow from sin profusely flows,
Yet joy from love as richly grows;
Sorrow from sin hath ne'er been sown
But joy therewith hath quickly grown.
No snare is set no guile is sped,
But freedom's given, or balm is shed.
But now the cheerful day hath past,
And chilly evening falleth fast;
One glorious heap of molten gold
Far in the west's together roll'd;
A ball of fire,-red, huge, and vast,-
Across the vale his beam hath cast,
The lurid, passing, darkling ray,
Ere sinks the sun's bright globe away.
A rose's light o'er earth is thrown-
With richest hues the heavens are strewn,
Peak piled on peak, and hill on hill,
And towers above them, higher still,
The horizon's wide expanse enshroud.
Each airy, beauteous, glowing cloud
Is tinged with carmine, purple, blue,
And every tint and rainbow hue.
Now sinking fast from castled height,
And lofty peak, and turret bright,
The fading hues of daylight haste,
Till not a line or form is traced
On the deep concave's cinctured bound,
But spotless is the vast profound.
Yet twinkling through the ether far
Comes yon gentle evening star,
Casting with modest trembling light,
Joy on the darkling face of night,
Then one by one the shining train
Sparkle in their wide domain.
Long since the village din has ceased,
Long since has toil his slaves released,
The gleaming taper sheds abroad
Its light across the darkened road.
Even the wayside inn is closed
Where weariness and care reposed;
Hushed is every sound, and night
Hath shut each object from the sight;
How calm,-But yet one moment, hark!-
'Tis but the watchdog's distant bark;
And o'er the earth, in air, and sky,
Silence doth dwell most tranquilly.
THIS elegant tree has been not inaptly styled " the lady of the woods." It belongs, however, more especially to a variety of the white birch, which has been called by some the Lady Birch, and by others the Weeping Birch. Its spray is more slender and of greater length than the common kind, and forms an elegant pensile foliage, similar to that of the weeping willow, and like that interesting tree, put in motion by the gentlest breeze. It is a great ornament in a landscape, and will well supply the place of the willow wherever such an object may be required for picturesque effect, and when agitated is well
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