happiest of all mortals are those who have more of either than they know how to use.—Johnson.

Let not the enjoyment of pleasures now within your grasp be carried to such excess as to incapacitate you from future repetition.— Seneca.

Choose such pleasures as recreate much, and cost little.—Fuller.

66

"NEXT MORNING."

WE are apt to connect the voice of conscience with the stillness of midnight. But I think we wrong that innocent hour. It is that terrible NEXT MORNING," when reason is wide awake, upon which remorse fastens its fangs. Has a man gambled away his all, or shot his friend in a duel-has he committed a crime, or incurred a laugh— it is the next morning, when the irretrievable Past rises before him like a spectre; then doth the churchyard of memory yield up its grisly dead; then is the witching hour when the foul fiend within us can least tempt perhaps, but most torment. At night we have one thing to hope for, one refuge to fly to-oblivion and sleep! But at morning, sleep is over, and we are called upon coldly to review, and react, and live again the waking bitterness of self-reproach.— Lord Lytton's "Ernest Maltravers."

TROUBLED THOUGHTS.

OH, wretched man, whose too busy thoughts
Ride swifter than the galloping heavens round,
With an eternal hurry of the soul:

Nay, there's a time when e'en the rolling year

Seems to stand still; dead calms are on the ocean,
When not a breath disturbs the drowsy waves:

But man, the very monster of the world,

Is ne'er at rest: the soul for ever wakes.-Lee's Edipus.
Restless thoughts, that like a deadly warm

Of hornets armed in throngs come rushing on me.

Thus my thoughts are tired

With tedious journeys up and down my mind:
Sometimes they lose their way; sometimes as slow
As beast o'erladen, heavily they move,
Pressed by the weight of sorrow or of love.

Milton.

Howe's "Vestal Virgin."

Turn not to thought, my brain, but let me find
Some unfrequented shade; then lay me down,
And let forgetful dulness steal upon me,
To soften and assuage the pain of thinking.

Rowe's" Fair Penitent."

CURIOUS NOTES ON NATURE AND ART.

SUMMER IN THE ORKNEYS.

FROM the absence of woodland scenery in Orkney, there is never the same delightful feeling of the presence of spring, such as the dwellers in the "sweet south" experience when the multitudinous leaves are trembling in the soft airs, and choirs of singing birds make the outgoings of the evening and the morning to rejoice. Indeed, the vernal season has only a transitory and troubled existence, and abdicates, ere seed-time is passed, in favour of summer. In occasional moods of relenting tenderness, winter graciously grants to impatient spring the morning hours of some special day at the beginning of April; but the mood is of short continuance, and no sooner have Orcadian farmers begun to congratulate themselves on the return of oat-sowing weather than the "ruler of the inverted year," reclaims his boon ere the sun has reached the meridian, blots out with blustering blasts the genial beauty of the day, and, with a wrathful frown glooming on his brow, drives off the flower-crowned spring weeping from his footstool. But with tears and smiles the pleading spring returns, leading summer by the hand; and we know that the sister seasons, mingling into one, have prevailed at last when the thick clouds fine away into fleecy flakes that melt in the blue depths of heaven, and the verdure of the pasture lands is wooed forth by the warmer sunshine.

Signs on sea and shore, new sights and sounds, make known the presence of the Orcadian summer-time, in which lives and moves the transmigrated spirit of spring. You awake from sleep when dawn is breaking, and instead of the pitiless, pelting storm, you hear delicious music warbled by a thrush, from some bush or solitary tree nigh your chamber window. It may excite surprise that a bird with voice so beautiful, and whose favourite haunt in the south is the wooded dell, should take up his abode in these remote groveless islands. Nevertheless, you are grateful for the song of the morning, pulsing abroad on the still air in liquid warbling gushes, and instinctively you bless the bird that revives old memories of bygone springs and summers with his melodious notes. In the summer mornings of these northern regions there is a delightful freshness. The breeze brings health and a benison from far-off leagues of sea, and in the calm translucent air the island hills and coasts lie clearly and beautifully defined.

May-time in Orkney resembles April in the Scottish Lowlands, and the fine freshness of the season kindles an irresistible longing to wander forth among the fields and moors, to climb the brown slopes of heathy hills, or to saunter aimlessly along the sea-shore. As we walk abroad the eye is gladdened by the tender green of the grass, the ploughman following his team, the sower with measured tread and

swinging arm scattering the seed abroad, and all those familiar accompaniments of rural labour which leave so many pleasant pictures and impressions on the mind. Not less charming and gladsome are the sounds that salute the ear. Like Miriam and her maidens, summer has come with timbrels and with dances, and overhead the blue vault of heaven rings with the rich running raptures of countless larks. The islands at this season can almost afford to want the woodlands with their vocal verdure when the sky seems to dissolve in drops of liquid melody. The shower of enraptured song falls over the green and furrowed fields, mingles with the murmur of the sea on the shelly shore, and comes wafted to the ear in trembling notes from the far-off heathy slopes of the hills. The skylark-beautifully addressed by the Ettrick Shepherd as the "bird of the wilderness, blithesome, and cumberless"-is the chief songster of Orkney, and he fears no rivals as he sings and soars. Mingling with the minstrelsy of the lark, the mellow note of the cuckoo, soft and low as a dream-voice, may be heard issuing from some sheltered patch of stunted copse-wood.-Gorrie.

AMBER.

OF all the gem-like substances used for personal adornment, amber is of the highest antiquity. It is mentioned by Homer, and is found introduced in the most ancient specimens of Etruscan jewellery. In the collection of the Prince Canino was a necklace of very choice Etruscan workmanship, having pendants in the form of scarabei of alternate sardonyx and amber. The Greeks termed amber, electron, from Elector, one of the names of the sun-god. Amongst the Romans also the substance was greatly prized. Pliny tells us that a small figure carved in amber had been known to sell at a higher price than a living slave in vigorous health. In the time of Nero, one of the, equestrian order was sent to Germany by Julianus, the manager of the gladiatorial exhibitions, in order to procure a supply of this gem. He succeeded so well, and brought back such vast quantities, that the very nets that protected the podium against the wild beasts, the litters upon which the slain gladiators were carried away, and all other articles used were studded with amber. Sir Thomas Browne, also, in his "Urn Burial," mentions among the contents of a Roman urn in the possession of Cardinal Farnese, not only jewels, but an ape in agate, and a grasshopper and an elephant carved in amber.

Wherever beds of lignite occur, amber is found: so that it is generally diffused over the world. But the shores of the Baltic, between Memel and Konigsberg, is the only district that supplies it in quantities. As much as four thousand pounds weight of amber yearly is said to be the product of that country. It is mostly found on the seashore, but in Prussia there are also mines. They are thus described: "First, at the surface of the earth, is found a stratum of sand. Immediately under this sand is a bed of clay filled with small flints. Under this clay is a stratum of black earth or turf, filled with fossil wood, half decomposed and bituminous; this stratum is extended upon

minerals containing little metal except iron, which are consequently pyrites. Lastly, under this bed, the amber is found scattered about in pieces and sometimes accumulated in heaps." It is accounted for in the following manner: "The oils in the woody stratum have been impregnated by the acid contained in the clay of the upper stratum, which has descended by the filtration of water. This mixture of oil and acid has become bituminous: the most pure and liquid parts of this bitumen have descended on the mineral stratum and in traversing it have become charged with particles of iron; and the result of this last combination is the formation of the amber which is found below." In Shakspeare's time, amber would seem to have been fashionable as an ornament, as he more than once alludes to it. When Petruchio promises to take Katherine on a visit to her father, he mentions "amber bracelets" among the "bravery" with which she is to be adorned. Amongst the artists of the Renaissance period it was chiefly used in the formation of jewel caskets and such-like elegant objects. It is still much valued in the East; but the chief market at present is China, where it is crushed into powder and burned as incense. Mouth-pieces for cigars, beads, and other ornaments in this material are, however, extensively manufactured in the workshops of Dantzig, Hamburg, and elsewhere.-The Argosy.

WARBLERS.

Ar first the lark, when she means to rejoice, to cheer herself and those that hear her, she then quits the earth and sings as she ascends higher into the air; and having ended her heavenly employment, grows then mute and sad to think she must descend to the dull earth, which she would not touch but for necessity.

How do the black-bird and throssel [song-thrush], with their melodious voices, bid welcome to the cheerful spring, and in their fixed months warble forth such ditties as no art or instrument can reach to! Nay, the smaller birds also do the like in their particular seasons, as, namely, the laverock [sky-lark], the tit-lark, the little linnet, and the honest robin, that loves mankind both alive and dead.

But the nightingale, another of my airy creatures, breathes such sweet loud music out of her little instrumental throat, that it might make mankind to think miracles are not ceased. He that at midnight, when the very labourer sleeps securely, should hear, as I have very often, the clear airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be lifted above earth, and say, "Lord, what music hast Thou provided for the saints in heaven, when Thou affordest bad men such music on earth !"— Izaak Walton.

VOICES OF SEA BIRDS.

I HAVE noted that the voices of birds have ever something in common with the loneliness or loveliness of their haunts and homes. Seabirds utter a wild, dreary wail that blends harmoniously with the

mournful monotone of the deep; the cry of the bittern rises like a natural exhalation from the desolate pool; the plaint of the lapwing accords with the wild brown waste of the moors; and the blackbird's song seems the mellow voice of the luxuriant summer woods.-Gorrie.

ANCIENT GLASS.

THE manufacture of glass was known very early; but glass, in a perfectly transparent condition, was reckoned so valuable, that Nero is said to have given £50,000 for two cups with handles. When the excavations were made in the ancient city of Pompeii, which was buried by an eruption of Vesuvius, A.D. 79, the windows of some of the houses were found glazed with a thick kind of glass, which, however, was not transparent. In others, talc was substituted, split into thin plates. Glass windows were first introduced into England, from France, about the year 1180. In the beginning of the fourteenth century, from the Fabric-roll of Exeter Cathedral, it appears that both plain and coloured glass was brought from Rouen in Normandy, at the charge of eightpence per foot for the stained, and fourpence for the white glass. Bottles of glass were first made in England about 1557; and the first plate-glass manufactory in England was established at Lambeth, in the year 1674.

STATISTICS OF HUMAN LIFE.

THE total number of human beings on earth is now computed, in round numbers, at 1,000,000,000. They speak 3064 tongues, in which upwards of 1100 religions are preached. The average duration of life is 33 years. One-fourth of those born die before the seventh, and one-half before the seventeenth year. Out of 100 persons, only six reach the age of 60 and upwards. Out of the 1,000,000,000 living persons 33,000,000 die annually, 91,000 daily, 3730 every hour, 60 every minute, and, consequently, one every second. The loss is, however, balanced by the gain in new births. Marriages are in proportion to single life (bachelors and spinsters) as 100: 75. Both births and deaths are more frequent in the night than in the day. One-fourth of men are capable of bearing arms, but not one in a thousand is by nature inclined for the profession.

BASKET-MAKING IN CHINA.

THE art of basket-making is one of the most ancient practised by man, and it dates from a period more remote than the records of authentic history. There is no nation in the world that excels, perhaps there is none that equals, the Chinese in this branch of industry. It is one of those crafts that seem peculiarly their own; and in it, as in the carving of ivory and the making of porcelain, they stand unrivalled. The Chinese baskets are a marvel to European craftsmen in the same art, and they never dream of imitating them. The patience, the industry, and the manual skill of the Chinese workman