did not become possessed of those splendid discoveries which have immortalized his name by chance, but by long-continued investigation and attention to those sublime subjects which appeared to have escaped the notice of most men. Then place your mark high up in the moral heavens; be not of that number "Who never felt the impatient throb, The longing of a heart that pants And reaches after distant good." G. S. B.

MONTHLY CALENDAR OF NATURAL PHENOMENA.

JANUARY.

LAST year we gave a monthly summary of the principal astronomical phenomena to be observed every month; and we believe many of our readers were led by it "to look up and about them," much more than they had done before. We have thought the column might be diversified this year; and with slight astronomical notes might be combined some hints to direct attention to other interesting matters in the worlds of wonder round us. There are other fields of observation beside the heavens; and this year we purpose pointing out some features in, chiefly, the vegetable kingdom, with occasional reference to the celestial or other phenomena deserving of attention.

January is, in general, a dreary month in the vegetable kingdom. The profuse vegetation of the summer, and the gorgeous beauty of the autumn months, have given place to all but universal barrenness and de

cay. and

Yet all is not dead; and here there we find some beautiful indications of life, which are the more precious from their contrast to the dearth around.

At no season of the year do the evergreens look so beautiful, or seem so valuable, as now. They are the glory of our gardens and pleasuregrounds; and no place looks bleak, that has secured to it a pretty fair proportion of them. How beautiful is the ivy drapery, now seen throwing its living green about old walls and decaying stumps! While the venerable yew, the triumphant laurel, the joyous aucuba, the cheerful laurustinus, the flowering arbutus, the glossy holly, the ash-leaved barbery, and a host of others, give their charms to our otherwise desolate

abodes. This is one of the beauties of English gardens above those near Paris, and other continental cities. There, the cold of the winter is so intense, that few evergreens can stand it; while our more equable temperature through the entire year is advantageous to their growth.

A few flowers may also be found, and a pretty fair bouquet gathered, with a little pains.

The fragrant winter flower (chimananthus fragrans) is in bloom against protected southern walls; and the Christmas rose, (helleborus niger,) the round-headed cyclamen, (cyclamen coum,) the changeable flowered hydrangea, (hydrangia hortensis,) with the white-leaved coltsfoot, (tussilago alba,) may be seen in most villa gardens at the beginning and middle of the month Towards the end, a forward clump

of snowdrops (galanthus nivalis) exhibit their cheering bells, and the pretty winter aconite (eranthus hyemalis) may be seen sprinkling some sunny bank with its golden, star-like flowers.

In some favoured spots the China rose may be seen still in bloom; and the pyrus japonnica (cidonia japonica) expands its showy scarlet flowers on many a sunny wall.

In the fields, almost the only flowers to be seen are the daisy and the chickweed, both of which will be well known to all our readers. The first of these was once a flower of high repute "the day's-eye," or "herb Margaret" of the poets of England; and in France, the royal Marguerite, worn as the chosen emblem of the unfortunate Margaret of Anjou, in the days of her prosperity, by all her admirers; and still prized, from its beautiful simplicity, throughout all Europe, over which it spreads.

On high heath-lands may be seen the winter furze, (ulex nanus,) covered with its golden flowers, and blooming as fresh and gay as if no frosts were known.

This is nearly, if not quite, the whole garland of January our young readers are likely to find in the open air; unless their lot is cast in some pleasant part of Devonshire, and then they may possibly come across an early bloom of the lovely primrose, scenting and beautifying some quiet nook.

Our woods and grounds are now nearly silent of their songsters, but a few faithful companions of our winter days may yet be heard.

There is the pretty robin, which, though silent in frost, greets us with his song the first warm day that comes. The hedge-sparrow and the thrush begin to sing this month. The blackbird whistles, the lark sings, the sparrow chirps, and the little wren gives us its constant song, even when snow is on the ground. Thus, to the observer of nature, there are yet objects of interest and delight to charm the eye and please the ear.

Perhaps, too, at this season, nature wears beauties and exercises fancies she can surpass by none of her summer dress or doings. What, for instance, can be more enchanting than the appearance of the woods and hedges some rimy morning, when every tree, bush, twig, and blade of grass is decked out with a pure and silvery covering, as if the fairies had been at work, and, by their magic power, creating a scene of surpassing beauty? Or what can be more curious and fantastical, at least to youthful eyes, than the strange figures drawn upon the bedroom window by the frost, exhibiting fine pictures of ferns, leaves, sprays, and almost every variety of vegetable form?

This month (January, 1849) presents also some interesting astronomical phenomena our young readers should observe.

Now the days sensibly lengthen, but they do so more in the afternoon than in the morning; the increase in the whole month being 25 minutes in the morning, and 45 in the afternoon. On new year's day the sun rises at 8 minutes after 8 in the morning, and sets at 4 in the after

7 hours and 52 minutes long; but in Edinburgh, only 7 hours long, as it rises there later, and sets sooner. The MooN is at the full 10 minutes before 11 at night, on the 8th; and new on the 24th, at 3 minutes after 10 in the evening. She will eclipse several stars in the course of the month, and pass near others. You may observe what stars are near her on the 3rd, 5th, 6th, and 13th, and especially on the 5th and 6th.

The planet VENUS is favourably situated for observation any clear evening after sunset. It seems to linger behind the sun; and sets on the first evening of the month at 28 minutes after 7, setting later every evening, till, at the end, it does not set till a little after 9.

JUPITER, the largest of all the planets, shines conspicuously during the month. It rises on the first evening about half-past 7, and appears earlier every subsequent evening to the end.

Towards the close of the month

objects early in the evening; the one setting a little south of west, the other rising north of east, and shining all night. Both may be observed together, when the atmosphere is clear, and their brightness compared. As we observe them, we should remember that they both shine with a borrowed lustre; that they receive and reflect to us the sun's light, while they afford to us the proof that the absent sun pours forth its light unceasingly during our night as well as our day.

The new year, with its repetition of former features of the season, reminds us of the ancient promise, that "while the earth remaineth, seed-time and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, shall not cease." Let us adore that God who remains himself unchanged through every changing year, and makes his promises just like himself, unalterable by any earthly alteration.

LUCY and Elizabeth Madden were two sisters, and the nieces of the Rev. Peter Roe, of Kilkenny, in Ireland. They were lovely and pleasant in life, and in death they were not divided, for they died the same spring; Elizabeth, on March 20, 1841, and Lucy, on April 17, the same year. Both of them were

scholars in a Bible class, and Elizabeth was also a Sunday school teacher. Her illness was a short one, but her state of mind was remarkably happy and peaceful. She had not left the concerns of her soul to be the work of a sick bed; it was testified by the instructress of her class, that for two years her friends could perceive a de

cided change in her mind, and for the last year a very rapid growth in grace, a great love for her Bible, which the Holy Spirit enabled her inwardly to digest, as well as to read, mark, and learn. She also read with attention, "Blunt's Lectures," and "Leighton, on Peter," and other serious books. She was a most regular teacher in the Sunday school, and when her scholars followed her to the grave, some of them said of her, "Dear Miss Madden! how we loved you; who will now tell us of Christ? " "How she loved him! may we love him as she did!"

During her illness, if she was suffering at any time, when her friends asked her, "Do you love the Lord Jesus, Eliza?" she would instantly brighten, and reply, "Oh, yes! very, very much; and he loves me, very, very much." The day before she died she was very weak. Some one repeated to her Psalm xxiii. 4. She added, "I can now say from experience that it is only the shadow of death to believers. Christ suffered the reality; he left only the shadow to his people." She declared most solemnly that God had not failed in the fulfilment of any of his promises; her words were, "Not one, not one, has failed." The day on which she died she was very weak, but did not suffer any pain; almost her last words were, "The Lord is my strength." When in health, she had sometimes had doubts and fears, but they did not disturb her mind when she was ill. She at one time longed to see her sister Lucy, who had been in a declining state of health for three years, and being carried up

to her sister's room, Elizabeth said, "Dear Lucy, I shall be above before you; I shall be in heaven before you." Then they conversed together of the joys of heaven, and repeated to each other, John xiv. 1-3. They parted, and met no more in this world.

Lucy was remarkably patient during her long illness. She was never for a moment otherwise, and she seemed to be very cheerful and happy. Every day before she came down stairs, her sisters used to lay out for her her hymn book and her Bible, and when she was too weak to hold the Bible in her hand, she used a small edition of the Psalms. She had not always such joy in the prospect of death as Elizabeth had, but she had a sure and comfortable trust in the promises of God: she used to call him "her Father," and often quoted the lines,

"My Father's hand will never cause His child a needless tear."

About the beginning of her illness she had this kind and affectionate letter addressed to her by her pious uncle. It was dated Jan. 21, 1839.

Isa. xl. 28-31.

MY DEAR LUCY,-It has given me unfeigned pleasure to hear that you have Divine support under bodily pain and mental anxiety, and that you are enabled to look up with filial confidence and joy to your heavenly Father. Dear Lucy, you have indeed reason to bless his name, that by his Holy Spirit, the great truths of his word, with which from your earliest days you have been familiar, have been sealed upon your heart. His

mercy spared you when you thought not of him; his mercy visited you with illness; his mercy has hitherto sent you needful help in every trying hour; and his mercy, which endureth for ever, will be manifested towards you, to the end of your earthly course, and then minister to you a glorious entrance into the joys of heaven. This is a bright and glorious prospect! It cheers the heart of the pilgrim, and smooths his path; it loosens the ties by which we are bound to earth, and ever brings with it a satisfiedness of mind, to which the worldling is a stranger. You, no doubt, have at times your fears and depressions, but remember, that while in the body, you cannot expect to be free from them. The flesh is weak, but the Spirit of the Lord is almighty; and it is written for your comfort and encouragement, as much as it was spoken for St. Paul's, "My grace is sufficient for thee." It is very delightful to dwell with a believing mind upon the faithfulness of God, for with that all the hope and happiness of the children of God are bound up. May you have at all times joy and peace in believing! May your bitter cup be sweetened by redeeming love; and as your day is, so may your strength be."

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The morning after Elizabeth's death, Lucy said to her mother, "Last night, for the first time, I asked for life. I prayed to my Father to leave me here for one month, if it would be for his glory, and any comfort to you and papa." The Lord permitted her to remain with them just four weeks: she suffered greatly from weakness, difficulty of breathing, and from cough, but still she was all peace. She never would allow it to be said in her presence, that she had any sufferings; she would say, "My Father never gave me a pain. What a loving, merciful Father!"

About two hours before her death she asked her sister Jane to repeat some Scripture and hymns, to which she listened for nearly an hour. She was quite aware of the approach of death; with the last fit of coughing she called out, "Dear mamina, I am going." Then taking her sister's hand, "Now I am gone, my darling." She was in great agony for twenty minutes; her family knelt round her couch, and prayed that God would send her relief. She prayed also: "My reconciled Father, receive my soul, for Jesus Christ's sake." Suddenly her eyes became dazzlingly bright; her heart and pulse ceased, and she, like Stephen, fell asleep in Jesus. A. N. N.

BASIL BOWLES, from a bad system of education, had formed the opinion that nothing was worth notice, un

less it was grand, odd, striking, or in some way remarkable. Any one who cut a splendid figure, dressed in