Tut. Yes. The mountains of Norway are overrun with them, enough for the supply of all Europe; but on account of their ruggedness, and the want of roads, it is found impossible to get the trees, when felled, down to the sea-coast, unless they grow near some river.

Geo. How do they manage them?

Tut. They take the opportunity when the rivers are swelled with rains, or melted snow, and tumble the trees into them, when they are carried down to the mouth of the rivers, where they are stopped by a sort of pens.

Har. I should like to see them swimming down the stream.

Tut. Yes-it would be curious enough; for in some places these torrents roll over rocks, making steep waterfalls, down which the trees are carried headlong, and often do not rise again till they have got to a considerable distance; and many of them are broken and torn to pieces in the passage.

Geo. Are these woods used for anything besides building ?

Tut. For a variety of purposes; such as boxes, trunks, packing-cases, pales, wainscots, and the like. Deal is a very soft wood, easily worked, light, and cheap, which makes it preferred for so many uses, though it is not very durable, and is very liable to split.

Har. Yes-I know; my box is made of deal, and the lid is split all to pieces, with driving nails into it. Geo. Are ships ever built with fir?

Tut. It was one of the first woods made use of for naval purposes; and in the poets you will find the words Pine and Fir frequently employed to signify ship. But as navigation has improved, the stronger and more durable woods have generally taken its place. However, in the countries where fir is very plentiful, large ships are still built with it; for though they last only a short time, they cost so little in pro

portion, that the profit of a few voyages is sufficient to repay the expense. Then, from the great lightness of the wood, they swim higher in the water, and consequently will bear more loading. Most of the large ships that bring timber from Archangel, in Russia, are built of fir. As for the masts of ships, they, as I have already told you, are all made of fir or pine, on account of their straightness and lightness.

Geo. Are there not some lines in Milton's Paradise Lost about that?

Tut. Yes: the spear of Satan is magnified by a comparison with a lofty pine.

"His spear, to equal which the tallest Pine
Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast
Of some great ammiral, were but a wand."

Har. I remember, too, that the walking staff of the giant Polypheme was a pine.

Tut. Ay-so Homer and Ovid tell us; and he must have been a giant, indeed, to use such a stick. Well, so much for the wood of these trees. But I have more to say about their uses.

Har. I am glad of it.

Tut. All of the tribe contain a juice of a bitterish taste and strong fragrant smell. This, in some, is so abundant as to flow out from incisions; when it is called Turpentine. The larch, in particular, yields a large quantity. Turpentine is one of the substances called resinous; it is sticky, transparent, very inflammable, and will not mix with water, but will dissolve in spirits of wine.

Geo. What is it used for?

Tut. It is used medicinally, and surgically, particularly in the composition of plasters and ointments. It also is an ingredient in varnishes, cements, and the like. An oil, distilled from turpentine, is employed in medicine, and is much used by painters, for mixing up their colours. What remains, after getting this oil, is common resin. All these substances take fire very

easily, and burn with a great flame; and the wood of the pine has so much of this quality, when dry, that it has been used in many countries for torches.

Har. I know deal shavings burn very briskly.

Geo. Yes; and matches are made of thin slips of deal, pointed, and dipped in brimstone.

Tut. True; and when it was the custom to burn the bodies of the dead, as you read in Homer, and other old authors, the pines and pitch-trees composed great part of the funeral pile.

Har. But what are pitch-trees? Does pitch grow upon trees?

Tut. I was going on to tell you about that. Tar is a product of the trees of this kind, especially of one species, called the pitch-pine. The wood is burned in a sort of oven, made in the earth, and the resinous juice sweats out, and acquires a peculiar taste, and a black colour, from the fire. This is tar. Tar, when boiled down to dryness, become pitch.

Geo. Tar and pitch are chiefly used about ships; are they not?

Tut. They resist moisture, and therefore are of great service in preventing things from decaying that are exposed to wet. For this reason, the cables and other ropes of ships are well soaked with tar; and the sides of ships are covered with pitch, mixed with other ingredients. Their seams, too, or the places where the planks join, are filled with tow, dipped in a composition of resin, tallow, and pitch, to keep out the water. Wood, for paling, for piles, for coverings of roofs, and other purposes of the like nature, is often tarred over. Cisterns and casks are pitched, to pre

vent leaking.

Har. But what are sheep tarred for, after they are sheared ?

Tut. To cure wounds and sores in their skin. For the like purposes, an ointment made with tar is often rubbed upon children's heads. Several parts of the pine are medicinal. The tops and green cones of

the spruce fir are fermented with treacle, and the liquor, called spruce beer, is much drunk in America, particularly for the scurvy?

Geo. Is it pleasant?

Tut. Not to those who are unaccustomed to it. Well, I have now finished my lesson, so let us walk. Har. Shall we go through the grounds?

Tut. Yes; and then we will view some of the different kinds of fir and pine more closely, and I will show you the difference of their leaves and cones, by which they are distinguished.

A DIALOGUE ON DIFFERENT STATIONS IN LIFE.

LITTLE Sally Meanwell had one day been to pay an afternoon's visit to Miss Harriet, the daughter of Sir Thomas Pemberton. The evening proving rainy, she was sent home in Sir Thomas's coach; and, on her return, the following conversation passed between her and her mother:

Mrs. Meanwell. Well, my dear, I hope you have had a pleasant visit.

Sally. O yes, mamma, very pleasant; you cannot think what a great many fine things I have seen. And then it is so charming to ride in a coach!

Mrs. M. I suppose Miss Harriet showed you all her playthings?

Sally. O yes, such fine large dolls, so smartly dressed, as I never saw in my life before. Then she has a baby-house, and all sorts of furniture in it; and a grotto all made of shells and shining stones. And then she showed me all her fine clothes for the next ball; there's a white slip all full of spangles and pink ribands; you can't think how beautiful it looks.

Mrs. M. And what did you admire most of all these fine things?

Sally. I don't know-I admired them all; and I think I liked riding in the coach better than all the rest. Why don't we keep a coach, mamma ? and why

have not I such fine clothes and playthings as Miss Harriet ?

Mrs. M. Because we cannot afford it, my dear. Your papa is not so rich, by a great deal, as Sir Thomas; and if we were to lay out our money upon such things, we should not be able to procure food, and raiment, and other necessaries for you all.

Sally. But why is not papa as rich as Sir Thomas ? Mrs. M. Sir Thomas had a large estate left him by his father; but your papa has little but what he gains by his own industry.

Sally. But why should not papa be as rich as anybody else? I am sure he deserves it as well.

Mrs. M. Do you not think that there are a great many people poorer than he that are also very deserving ?

Sally. Are there ?

Mrs. M. Yes, to be sure. Don't you know what a number of poor people there are all around us, who have very few of the comforts we enjoy? What do you think of Plowman, the labourer ? I believe you never saw him idle in your life.

Sally. No; he is gone to work long before I am up, and he does not return till almost bedtime, unless it be for his dinner.

Mrs. M. Well! how do you think his wife and children live? should you like that we should change places with them?

Sally. O no! they are so dirty and ragged.

Mrs. M. They are, indeed, poor creatures; but I am afraid they suffer worse evils than that.

Sally. What, mamma?

Mrs. M. Why, I am afraid they often do not get as much food as they could eat. And then in winter they must be half-starved, for want of fire and warm clothing. How do you think you I could bear all this?

Sally. Indeed, I don't know. But I have seen Plowman's wife carry great brown loaves into the house;