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TOILET COVER IN CROCHET.

Materials. 12 reels Messrs. W. Evans & Co.'s 1 Boar's-head crochet cotton, No. 12.

THE pattern consists of a handsome square, with a rich border on three sides. A foundation chain of 400 stitches must be made, which will allow for a close square at each edge of the toilet. To correspond with this edge, do one row of Dc, before beginning to work the pattern from the engraving.

The entire centre square is given, but not the whole of the front of the border. When the centre of each row is reached, however, it will be very easy to work the

remainder backwards. The whole cover is done in square crochet. The border may be added all round, if desired; but this form being a perfect square, is not so suited for a toilet table.

It may be trimmed either with fringe, (done like that of the anti-macassars lately given,) or with a handsome crochet lace, several designs for which we have furnished in various Numbers.

CHESTNUT-BASKET, FOR THE DESSERT TABLE.

Materials. Half a yard of pink glazed calico; 14 inches wide; and seven reels of Messrs. Walditto of flannel; 3 yards of pink satin ribbon,

ter Evans and Co.'s Boar's Head crochet cotton,

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CHESTNUT-BASKET FOR THE DESSERT-TABLE, BY MRS. PULLAN.

No. 12. An average worker will use W. Boulton and Son's crochet-hook, No. 16.

THIS elegant novelty for the dessert table consists of a square of crochet, edged with lace, which is afterwards folded into the form seen in the engraving. It is lined with pink glazed calico and flannel, (the former being on the outside); a knot of pink ribbon is placed at each corner, and in order to cover the opening in the centre, a double round of flannel, of the proper dimensions, is quilted with a similar piece of pink calico, and tacked so as to form a lid. It is decorated with bows of pink ribbon, which entirely

cover it.

The inner square of the toilet-cover first given would do well for this purpose, working it on a foundation of 262 stitches and with one row of Dc, and one of open square crochet before the pattern is begun.

The nearest centre is to be filled with the initials of the owner, and should be drawn on checked paper, of not more than 31 squares, and worked in.

For the border which is worked all round.

1st Round.+ 1 dc, 1 ch, miss 1 + repeat all round, without missing any at the corners.

2nd Round.-+ 1 de, 3 ch, miss 3+ all

round, missing only 1, in several stitches at the corners.

3rd Round. 3 Dc, (the centre on 1 Dc, 6 Ch), miss 6, 1 Dc, on Dc, 6 Ch,+ repeat all round.

4th Round.+ 3 Dc, on 3 Dc, 4 Ch, miss 4, 5 Dc, 4 Ch, miss 4, + repeat all round.

5th Round.+ 1 Dc, on the centre of 3 Dc, 3 Ch, miss 3, 3 Dc, 3 Ch, miss 3, 3Dc, 3Ch, miss 3, + repeat all round.

6th Round. +3 Dc, over 3 De, in the 4th row, 4 Ch, miss 4, 5 Dc, 4 Ch, miss 4+repeat all round. 7th Round. 3 Dc, over 3 Dc, 6 Ch, miss 6, 1 De over the centre of 5 Dc, 6 Ch, miss 6,repeat all round.

8th Round.+ 5 Sc, (coming over 3 Dc, and 1 chain on each side), 4 Ch, miss 4, 5 Dc, on 3, 4 Ch, miss 4. + 9th Round. 3 Sc, on the 3 centre of 5 Sc, 4 Ch, miss 1 S, and 3 Ch, 10 De, over the 5 Dc, and one chain on each side, 4 Ch.+ 10th Round.

Sc, on centre of 3 Sc, 5 Ch, miss 4, 1 Sc, 5 Ch, miss 3, 1 Sc, 5 Ch, miss 2, 1 Sc, 5 Ch, miss 3, 1 Sc, 5 Ch.+

Cut out the rounds of flannel and calico nearly of the diameter of the square of crochet, not including the edging. Fold it into the form seen in the engraving; then make it up as directed..

This article is sent, post free, for 9s. 6d. Any initials for 1s. 6d.

HORSE-RADISH.-This plant was called Raphanus rusticanus by the old herbalists, but it is of a distinct family from the radish, and modern science has placed it in the order to which it belongs. It is indigenous in some marshy situations in England, but has long been an inmate of our gardens, although it may be inferred from Gerard that in his time, 1597, it had not found its way to the English table, being cultivated for its efficacy in medicine only. In Sweden the Chinese horseradish is cultivated, and an abundance of oil procured from it. Horse-radish loves a moist, deep soil; resembling ginger in this respect, that if a small piece of the root be buried in the earth, it will shoot and produce a new root and a perfect plant.

EMINENT FEMALE WRITERS.

LÆTITIA ELIZABETH MACLEAN. LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON,* one of the most eminent among the female poets of our age, was born in London on the 14th of August, 1802. Her father dying when she was very young, and her mother being left with a large family and but little for their support, Lætitia, whose talent for poetry was early manifested, devoted her youthful enthusiasm to literary composition, the fruits of which were applied to the maintenance and advancement of her family. Her first productions were brought forward about the year 1822, in the pages of the "Literary Gazette," to which she continued for many years a frequent contributor, and to which she was mainly indebted for her reputation. She also contributed largely to many other periodicals, and to nearly all the annuals, of some of which she wrote all the poetry, as of "Fisher's Drawing-room Scrap-Book," the "Flowers of Loveliness," and the "Bijou Almanac." This almost ceaseless composition necessarily precluded the thought, study, and cultivation essential to the production of poetry of the highest order. "Hence, with all their fancy and feeling, her principal works-the 'Improvisatrice,' the Troubadour,' the 'Golden Violet,' the 'Golden Bracelet,' and the Vow of the Peacock' bear a strong family-likeness to each other in their recurrence to the same sources of allusion, and the same veins of imagery-in the conventional rather than natural colouring of their descriptions, and in the excessive though not unmusical carelessness of their versification. In spite, however, of the ceaseless strain upon her powers, and the ceaseless distractions of a London life, Miss Landon accomplished much for her own mind in the progress of its career; she had reached a deeper earnestness of thought, had added largely to the stores of her knowledge, and done much towards the polishing and perfecting of her verse."

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Miss Landon was married on the 7th of June, 1838, to George Maclean, Esq., Governor of Cape Coast Castle, South Africa, and soon after left England for * Better known to the literary world by the signature L. E. L.

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her new abode. Letters were received from her by her friends in England, telling them of her employments and her happiness; but these were soon followed by news of her death. On the 15th of October, of the same year, she was found dead on the floor of her chamber, with an empty phial in her hand, which had contained prussic acid. She had been in the habit of using this as a remedy for spasmodic affections, and had undoubtedly taken an overdose. The stories that were circulated about her having poisoned herself were doubtless cruel slanders; as a letter to a friend, written on the morning of her death, breathing a spirit of content and happiness, was found upon her table.

Of Mrs. Maclean's genius, there can be but one opinion. "She had great intellectual power, a highly sensitive and ardent imagination, an intense fervour of passionate emotion, and almost unequalled eloquence and fluency. Of mere art she displayed but little. Her style is irregular and careless, but there is genius in every line she has written. It is, however, to be regretted that she too often took sad and meiancholy views of life. The following are some of her choicest pieces:

SUCCESS ALONE SEEN.

Few know of life's beginnings-men behold
The goal achieved;-the warrior, when his sword
Flashes red triumph in the noonday sun;
The poet, when his lyre hangs on the palm;
The statesman, when the crowd proclaim his
voice,

And mould opinion, on his gifted tongue:
They count not life's first steps, and never think
Upon the many miserable hours

When hope deferr'd was sickness to the heart.
They reckon not the battle and the march,
The long privations of a wasted youth;
They never see the banner till unfurl'd.
What are to them the solitary nights

Passed pale and anxious by the sickly lamp,
Till the young poet wins the world at last
To listen to the music long his own?

The crowd attend the statesman's fiery mind
That makes their destiny; but they do not trace
Its struggle, or its long expectancy.

Hard are life's early steps; and, but that youth
Is buoyant, confident, and strong in hope,
Men would behold its threshold, and despair.

THE LITTLE SHROUD.

She put him on a snow-white shroud,

A chaplet on his head;

And gather'd early primroses

To scatter o'er the dead.

She laid him in his little grave'Twas hard to lay him there,

When spring was putting forth its flowers, And everything was fair.

She had lost many children-now

The last of them was gone;
And day and night she sat and wept
Beside the funeral stone.

One midnight, while her constant tears
Were falling with the dew,

She heard a voice, and lo! her child
Stood by her weeping too!

His shroud was damp, his face was white; He said "I cannot sleep;

Your tears have made my shroud so wet,
O, mother, do not weep!"

O, love is strong!-the mother's heart
Was fill'd with tender fears;

O, love is strong!-and for her child
Her grief restrain'd its tears.
One eve a light shone round her bed,
And there she saw him stand-
Her infant in his little shroud,
A taper in his hand.

"Lo! mother, see my shroud is dry,
And I can sleep once more!"
And beautiful the parting smile
The little infant wore.

And down within the silent grave
He laid his weary head;

And soon the early violets

Grew o'er his grassy bed.

The mother went her household ways-
Again she knelt in prayer,
And only ask'd of Heaven its aid
Her heavy lot to bear.

"HE WIDOW'S MITE.

IT is the fruit of waking hours
When others are asleep;

When, moaning round the low-thatch'd roof,
The winds of winter creep.

It is the fruit of summer days
Pass'd in a gloomy room,
When others are abroad to taste
The pleasant morning bloom.
'Tis given from a scanty store,

And miss'd while it is given;
"Tis given-for the claims of earth
Are less than those of heaven.
Few, save the poor, feel for the poor;
The rich know not how hard

It is to be of needful food

And needful rest debarr'd.

Their paths are paths of plenteousness:
They sleep on silk and down,
And never think how heavily

The weary head lies down.

They know not of the scanty meal,
With small pale faces round;

No fire upon the cold, damp hearth,
When snow is on the ground.
They never by their window sit,
And see the gay pass by,

Yet take their weary work again,
Though with a mournful eye.

The rich, they give-they miss it not-
A blessing cannot be

Like that which rests, thou widow'd one,
Upon thy gift and thee!

THE CHOICE OF BOOKS. "REALLY there are so many nice books published in the present day, that we have no excuse if our daughters are not well informed and accomplished," said a lady to me, as she was unfolding a literary present for her only child's fourteenth birth-day. "Laura has had so many pretty gifts during the last two years, that she has quite a splendid library. She is very fond of it, and calls it her miniature Alexandrian." This designation of her treasures appeared very indicative of a well-informed young lady, and I ventured to ask for a sight of them. I was taken to a pleasant and spacious apartment, named the "Study."(I was going to call it "school-room," but was informed by mamma, that there was an objection to the term, as Laura "liked study, and did not require schooling to make her learn her lessons." The aspect of it was not different from that of other wellappointed school - rooms. There were the globes, the pianoforte, and harp, the portfolios in their respective places, charts and maps hanging on the walls, the time-piece in a conspicuous place, and at the further end, a neat rosewood book-case, the shelves adorned with volumes, brilliant in blue, scarlet, and gold; -all ranged in perfect order. It was impossible not to approve, and the admiration called for was readily given;-but when I proceeded to a closer examination of the contents, the result was by no means unqualified commendation. First, dropped on a collection of fairy tales, and next to them stood a volume of essays, the very object of which was, to condemn works of fiction as trifling. Then came the historical shelf; there were French histories of England, and English histories of France; one which I opened, gave the impression that "bloody Mary," as she used to be called, was an angel; another, not content with her portrait as a poor, misguided woman, who dragged on a miserable existence from blighted affection, denied her the possession of a single good principle. Here, Queen Elizabeth was the "glorious Bess," and there represented as a fiend, or a silly old woman, every great and lasting testimony to her fame cast into the shade, and the

sneers of a French ambassador made the text-book for her history. One book seemed Romish in its tendencies, and another exalted Cromwell and the Puritans, denying pity even to the misfortunes of Charles I. In one, the sincerity of James II. was lauded, and the good qualities of his son and grandson made prominent; another denied that they had any virtues, and declared that a family so great as that of Brunswick had never yet reigned.

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I must own I had a curiosity to know what effect such various opinions had duced upon the mind of the reader, but was only allowed to ascertain the fact, that the young lady had perused all the books, before I was called to inspect the works on natural history.

Here were pictures and illustrations of the animal and vegetable kingdoms in profusion—as much alike as could be, perhaps, expected, when seen by so many different eyes; but when we reached the "miscellaneous" shelves, the variety enlarged infinitely; especially among a nondescript class, of which there were numerous specimens. Novels, they were not, for there was little or no love in them; sermons, they were not, though containing much religious instruction;—a sort of hybrid between serious and entertaining, between sacred and profane. One of these quoted texts from the Bible to prove that dancing was entirely forbidden; another made the model-characters attend balls as a matter of course; in many, the interest of the narrative mainly depended on the conversion of one member of an unholy family, through the instrumentality of some relation or acquaintance, who, as a preliminary step, taught the young people to despise their elders; in one, the parents committed the care of their children to an aunt, who was not religious according to their ideas, and extracted from her a promise that she would never speak of religion to the children; they accordingly grew to an age at which they could run about and converse with the gardener, ignorant of the first truths. The gardener discovering this, was shocked; and the parents scrupled not to explain their motives to both gardener and children, and thus to testify what a bad woman they considered the person to whom they had been content to

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