slip the last, knit the first of the side stitches off a fine needle, pass the slipstitch over. Now purl eight stitches, and with the last, purl one off the other fine needle. Knit and purl alternately these nine stitches, taking off one from a fine needle, with the last stitch, at the end of every row, until you have done, with black wool equal to the black stripe. Join on the yellow and continue in the same way, only the nine stitches must gradually be decreased to five by purling 2 together. It is also necessary, every alternate purled and knitted row, to take two instead of one, off the side needle. When as much is done as will equal the yellow stripe, join on the red wool, and continue in the same way, decreasing the five stitches to one, and knitting off all those of the side

needles.

FOR THE SOLE. Turn the slipper on the wrong side, and take up, with the fine needles, all the original cast stitches, as well as the one stitch left at the toe, and the edges of the green stripe. Join on the dark green wool. Knit the stitches at the edge of the green stripe, and 65 cast on ones, knit two together, eight times; knit the remainder to the toe.

Repeat this round.

Hold the two needles nearest the toe together, and cast off 17 stitches from each, knitting two stitches together.

Do another round, knitting three together four times at the heel, then cast off, in the same way, twenty more from each side. Do another round and cast off the remainder in the same way.

Fasten off all the ends. These slippers are lined with a row of netting, two yards long, done on the small mesh, with pink wool. It is tacked inside the slipper, backwards and forwards, from the toe to the heel, lining the sole and sides, but coming across the front only once, just beneath the instep.

A netted frill of black wool, done with the widest mesh, is made long enough to go round the entire top of the slipper once, and twice across the front. A plaited cord of black and yellow wool, with a red tassel at each end, is run in the open hem round the ankle.

Cork soles may be added if desired, but for invalids, the slippers without soles are incomparably warm and soft.

CHICKWEED.-This humble plant is well known to bird fanciers; and though looked upon as a lowly weed, yet it has properties which prove the protecting hand of Nature for its preservation. This plant is found wild in most parts of the world. It is annual, and flowers almost through the whole year. Dr. Withering says, "That it grows almost in all situations, from damp and almost boggy woods, to the driest gravel - walks in gardens; but in these various states its appearances are very different; so that those who have only taken notice of it as garden chickweed, would hardly know it in woods, where it sometimes exceeds half a yard in height, and has leaves near two inches long, and more than one inch broad. In its truly wild state, in damp woods and hedge bottoms, with a nothern aspect, it has almost always ten stamens; but in drier soils and sunny exposures, the stamens are usually five or three. The flowers are upright, and open from nine in the morning till noon; but if it rains, they do not open. After rain they become pendant; but in the course of a few days rise again. It is a remarkable instance of the sleep of plants; for every night the leaves approach in pairs, including within their upper surfaces the tender rudiments of the new shoots; and the uppermost pair but one, at the end of the stalk, is furnished with longer leaf-stalks than the others, so that they can close upon the terminating pair, and protect the end of the branch. The young shoots and leaves when boiled, are similar to spinach, and are equally wholesome. It is a grateful food to small birds and young chickens. It was formerly used for medical purposes.

sent that they are preparing for the great market of the world. Real elegance of demeanour springs from the mind; fashion able schools do but teach its imitation, whilst their rules forbid to be ingenuous Philosophers never conceived the idea of so perfect a vacuum as is found to exist in the minds of young women who are supposed to have finished their education, in such establishments. If they marry husbands as uninformed as themselves, they fall into habits of indolent insignificance without much pain; if they marry per sons more accomplished, they can retain no hold of their affections. Hence many matrimonial miseries, in the midst of which the wife finds it a consolation to be always complaining of her health and ruined nerves.

In the education of young women wc would say let them be secured from all the trappings and manacles of such a system; let them partake of every active exercise not absolutely unfeminine, and trust to their being able to get into or out of a carriage with a light and graceful step, which no drilling can accomplish. Let them rise early and retire early to rest, and trust that their beauty will not need to be coined into artificial smiles in order to ensure a welcome, whatever room they enter. Let them ride, walk, run, dance in the open air. Encourage the merry and innocent diversions in which the young delight; let them, under proper guidance, explore every hill and valley; let them plant and cultivate the garden, and make hay when the summer sun shines, and surmount all dread of a shower of rain or the boisterous wind; and, above all, let them take no medicine, except when the doctor orders it. The demons of hysteria and melancholy might hover over a group of young ladies so brought up; but they would not find one of them upon whom they could exercise any power.

The chance of freedom from all nervous Complaints, including some of the most dreadful mental visitations, is increased by every rational means of increasing individual happiness; by that great blessing, a contented mind, by a calm dependence on a benevolent and wise Creator; by a freedom from all mean forms of ambition as for establishment, equipage, and

restless gaiety; by a love of home-duties, country-scenery, and useful occupations; by a reasonable acquaintance with some of the sciences; by a taste for the arts, and for the improving pleasures of elegant literature, and the society of the virtuous and well-informed. The divine, the philosopher, and the physician, speak the same language. The dictates of reason and of duty are sufficiently plain, and few are blind to them; and they are the dictates of health, bodily and mental; but so opposed to them are the dictates of fashion, and the bits of what is called the world, in a cou ry too much given to the worship of gold, that of all who profess to acknowledge their truth, the greater number are still ever found

"To see the best, and yet he worst pursue."

WHAT MEDIOCRITY CAN po. It is not deep learning, but mediocrity, which is most commensurate with the e..igencies of humanity, and in consequence, by a wise provision, most amply provided. The abstractions of theorists, and the subtleties of metaphysicians, seldom avail for the practical use of life. Projects and conceptions derived from such sources are only suited to the ideal world in which they originate. They are little more than the stuff that dreams are of, and irrelevant and out of keeping with actual realities. The individuals most celebrated, those who have made the most impression on their age, and. given to its shaping direction, have rarely been distinguished by high intellect. They possessed uncommon endowments no doubt but they were endowments for action, not speculation-for the multitude, not the cloister. Of this description were Whitefield, John Wesley, Martin Luther, John Knox, and Mahomet, Extraordinary men they certainly weremen of great gifts, but they were gifts, of the heart more than of the head, of zeal and enthusiasm, of an untiring body and spirit. In minds they were common-place appliances. They did not, in vulgar phrase, try to cut blocks with the razor, but, shrewdly appreciating the wants and capabilities of the masses, framed accordingly the form and temper of their instru ments. In this they showed practical, if not abstract genius.

INTERCOURSE OF INSECTS.

CAN insects talk? This may indeed seem a strange question to those who would limit the meaning of the word to the capability of expressing ideas by means of articulate sounds; nevertheless a little reflection will convince any one who is conversant with the habits of these creatures, that though they may have no tongues, they can express themselves in some way or other "with most miraculous organ." Various experiments might be quoted in proof of this assertion; let us however, select one of two which seem to leave no room for dispute about the matter. Any one who finds himself in the vicinity of an ant's nest, may soon be convinced that these industrious little labourers are by no means destitute of the power of communicating information to each other, relative to the affairs of their commonwealth. Let him, for example, place a heap of food in the neighbourhood of the ant-hill, and watch the proceedings of its inmates. A short time will probably elapse before the discovery of the treasure; but at length some wanderer, in his morning's ramble, has the good fortune to stumble upon it. What does he do? He does not, like an isolated individual incapable of asking for assistance, begin at once the task of removing the heap, but, on the contrary, off he scampers with the glad intelligence, and running his head against that of every ant he meets, manages in some mysterious way, not only to intimate the fact of the discovery, but also to give information relative to the locality where the provisions may be found, for speedily it will be seen that troops of porters, summoned at the call of the first finder, hasten to the spot, and all is activity and bustle until the store is safely warehoused in the ant-hill. Another still more striking instance of the possession of a capability of spreading intelligence, and that of a somewhat abstruse character, is furnished by experiments that have been made by Huber and others upon bees. Every one is aware that the queen-bee is an object of the greatest solicitude and attention to all the workers of the hive, and yet, among so many thousands, all busily employed in different and distant parts of

the colony, it would appear impossible for them to ascertain, at least before the lapse of a considerable time, whether she was absent from among them or not. In order to see whether bees had any power of conveying news of this kind, the queerbee has been stealthily and quietly abstracted from the hive; but here, as elsewhere, ill news was found to fly apace. For some half-hour or so, the loss seemed not to have been ascertained, but the progressively increasing buzz of agitation gradually announced the growing alarm, until shortly the whole hive was in an uproar, and all its busy occupants were seen pouring forth their legions in search of their lost monarch, or eager to avenge with their stings the insult offered to their sovereign. On restoring the captured queen to her subjects, with equal secrecy, the tumult speedily subsided, and the ordinary business of the community was resumed.-Professor Jones.

LORD PETERBOROUGH AND THE CANARY BIRD.--" Lord Peterborough, when a young man, and about the time of the Revolution, had a passion for a young lady who was fond of birds. She had seen and heard a fine canary-bird at a coffee house near Charing-cross, and entreated him to get it for her; the owner of it was a widow, and Lord Peterborough offered to buy it at a great price, which she refused. Finding there was no other way of coming at the bird, he determined to change it; and, getting one of the same colour, with nearly the same marks, but which happened to be a hen, went to the house; the mistress of it usually sat in a room behind the bar, to which he had easy access; contriving to send her out of the way, he effected his purpose; and, upon her return, took his leave. He continued to frequent the house to avoid suspicion, but forbore saying anything of the bird till about two years after; when, taking occasion to speak of it, he said to the woman, I would have bought that bird of you, and you refused my money for it; I dare say you are by this time sorry for it?' Indeed, sir,' answered the woman, 'I am not, nor would I now take any sum for him, for-would you believe it ?-from the time that our good king had to go abroad and leave us, the dear creature has not sung a nete."