REMARKABLE SPRINGS IN ICELAND.

THE picture represents some of the remarkable springs which are very common in a large island in the Northern Sea, called Iceland. The following account of them is taken principally from Von Troil's letters :

"Iceland abounds with hot and boiling springs, some of which spout up into the air to a surprising height. All the fountains which have been contrived with so much art, and at such an enormous expense, cannot, by any means, be compared with these wonders of nature. The water-works at Herenhausen throw up a single column of water of half a quarter of a yard in circumference to a height of about seventy feet; those in Cassel throw it up, but in a much thinner column, one hundred and thirty feet; and that at St. Cloud, which is thought the greatest of all the French water-works, casts up a thin column eighty feet into the air; but some springs in Iceland pour forth columns of water several feet in thickness to the height of many fathoms; and many affirm, of several hundred feet."

These springs are unequal in their degrees of heat; but we have observed none under 188 degrees of Fahrenheit's thermometer: in some it is 192, 193, 212, and in one small vein of water, 213 degrees. From some the water flows gently; from others it spouts with a great noise. The inhabitants use it at particular times for dyeing; and were they to adopt proper regulations, it might be of still greater use. Victuals may also be boiled in it; and milk held over its steam becomes sweet, owing, most probably, to the excessive heat of the water, as the same effect is produced by boiling it a long time over the fire. They have begun to make salt by boiling sea-water over it, which, when it is refined, is very pure and good.

Among the many hot springs to be met with in Iceland, several bear the name of Geyser. The following is a description of the most remarkable of that name, and in the whole island:-It is about two days' journey from Hecla, near a farm called Hankadal. Here a poet would have an opportunity of painting whatever is beautiful and terrible in nature, united in one picture, in describing this surprising object. Represent to yourself a large field,

where you can see on one side, at a great distance, high mountains covered with ice, whose summits are generally wrapped in clouds; on another side Hecla is seen, with its three points covered with ice, rising above the clouds, and with the smoke which ascends from it forming other clouds at some distance from the real ones; and on another side is a ridge of high rocks, at the foot of which boiling water issues forth; and further on extends a large marsh, where are forty or fifty boiling springs, from which a vapour ascends to a prodigious height.

MY COUNTRY PLEASURES.

THEY tell me that I must shoot the birds and destroy their nests, or I shall have no fruit or flowers in my garden, for the birds will eat the buds of both. I delight to see the birds and to hear them: they look full of happiness; life seems all joy to them; and why should I put them to death? Whoever observes the moaning and grief of the parent-birds when their little family is taken away from them, must be unwilling to be the cause of this misery to those sweet songsters of the woods and groves, whom God seems to have made to be happy themselves, and to delight those who love to look at His works, and to praise Him for His goodness to all His creatures, "beasts and all cattle, creeping things, and flying fowls." I believe that I shall have fruit and flowers too, even though I leave my little birds at liberty; and, if they get a share with me, they amply pay me by their sweet songs and their apparent happiness.

I am told that the chaffinches, and other birds of that description, are so mischievous, that, whatever others may be spared, these must be destroyed, for they will eat every bud and blossom. I have a beautiful branch of a China rose-tree close by my window, full of buds and flowers. I saw one of these birds come and settle upon it, as if it came there for its meal. He did not see me; but I could see him through the window, and watch him as closely as if he had been in my hand. I was not so much afraid of my rose-buds as some others in the room were; for I did not believe that flowers were the food of these birds. The

little creature was, however, busy for a long time, and round about every bud and flower, and my rose-buds were thought to be in great danger. My little friend, however, did not touch a single flower, but busied himself in cleansing away all the insects which were thickly plastered on the stalks just under the buds; and so, in truth, he beautifully dressed and polished up my flowers for me. Some sorts of roses, and many fruit-trees, are apt to have grubs in the buds; and the birds in picking these out, pick the flowers to pieces at the same time; but the grub would have been a worse enemy still. The little rogues are, however, at times mischievous, I allow; but I forgive them.

Walking in my garden this morning, and busying myself among the shrubs and bushes, I heard a terrible screaming, and, turning round, I saw my dog running after a little thrush which had escaped from its nest, but which could not fly well enough to rise from the ground. The dog seemed just on the point of seizing the little bird: the mother-thrush flew at him violently, screaming and flapping about the ears of the dog, and thus saved the life of her little one. I had just time to call the dog away; and the mother-bird contrived so effectually to conceal and shelter the frightened nestling, that I could see nothing more of it, though I returned to the spot almost instantly, and made a diligent search.

Birds seem to teach their young ones to fly by gentle means and slow degrees: they seem, on bringing them out of their nests, to encourage them to perch on the branches near them; and they practise, by flying from one branch to another. If an unlucky young one happens to reach the ground, it is not able to rise again to its nest. I had a thrush's nest in a piece of ivy on the wall of my house. The young birds were one day alarmed, and all flew out of their nest, and came to the ground. They could not rise again; and they were all caught but one, and put into a cage. The parent-bird regularly came to feed them, though the situation was public; and this long after the birds could peck for themselves. But the old bird knew better than we did what was good for them; and I believe would have continued to feed them for any

length of time if we had thought fit to keep them in confinement. A few days after, I found the little one that had escaped, nestled in a very snug corner on the ground; and the old ones had evidently regularly fed and attended on this little one, as well as to the others in the cage.

V.

THIRD LETTER TO BEE-KEEPERS.

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MY DEAR FRIENDS,-In this letter I am going to tell how it is, that by means of a double hive you can get better honey, and more of it, than in the common hives.

Why the honey is better.

In hives of the common sort, the bees have only one place to live in, and use the same combs both for breeding the young and storing the honey. A common hive is a house with only one room in it; so the bees are forced to have their nursery and storehouse, and all, in the same room. The queen-bee lays her eggs in the cells; and when the young bees are hatched and come out, the same cells are afterwards filled with honey. The consequence of this is, that the honey is not quite pure, and gets a bad taste; for there is a substance called bee-bread, which is what the bees use for feeding the young brood: it is of a dark yellow or brown colour, and has an unpleasant taste. There is always a good deal of this in every hive; and when the combs are cut up into small pieces, and all put into a bag to run the honey out, this bee-bread mixes with the honey and spoils the flavour of it. You know the finest honey is of a beautiful bright yellow colour, like gold or amber, and quite clear and transparent; but if the bee-bread gets mixed with it, the colour becomes darker, and the honey loses its transparency and delicate flavour. Besides, the combs in that part of the hive where the bees always live get foul and discoloured with the breath and heat of the bees; and this also helps to spoil the honey.

The best honey is what is called virgin-honey; that is, honey in combs which have never been used for breeding, and are new and clean. You may often get one or two