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ing floor was mostly a smooth space, surrounded with mud walls, having a barn or garner on one side; occasionally an open field, outside the walls, was selected for this purpose, yet uniformly before the town or city gates. Such was the void place wherein the king of Israel, and Jehoshaphat, king of Judah, sat each of them on his throne, clothed in his robes, at the entering in of the gate of Samaria, and all the prophets prophesied before them. In the marginal reading we are informed, that this void space was no other than a threshing floor; and truly the area was well adapted for such an assemblage, being equally suited to accommodate the two kings and their attendants, and to separate them from the populace.

But the ploughshare of our day and those anciently employed in Palestine were widely different. The first is ponderous, and utterly impossible would it be to convert the swords used in modern warfare into purposes of husbandry; but the case is otherwise as regards the second. Eastern ploughshares were of a lighter make, and those who notice the shortness and substance of ancient weapons, among such as are preserved in museums, will understand how readily they might be applied to agricultural uses. Very appropriate, therefore, is the prophetic declaration with reference to those peaceful times that are destined to terminate the funereal train of ages.

Such are the associations which we shall do well to remember, when looking on one of those harmless and valuable creatures that so greatly minister to the wants of man; and, if we were inclined to pursue the subject further, it would be easy to speak of the manufactures which the members of her tribe promote when no longer grazing in meadows or on commons. Their horns furnish glue for the artisan, and various articles for home purposes; their hides, leather; the hair is mixed with lime for plastering; the bones are used as substitutes for ivory, and when calcined are valuable to the refiners of silver; their tallow supplies candles, and from the feet is obtained an oil of great use in preparing and softening leather. We owe to the same animals butter, milk, and cheese; even the blood, the gall, and

liver have their respective uses, both in manufactures and in medicine.

Widely, therefore, is the Taurine group diffused, and this because their services are everywhere required. They are equally capable of enduring the extremes of heat and of cold, and inhabit alike the frozen and the torrid zones. Bewick, the celebrated engraver on wood and lover of natural history, well observes, that while other animals preserve their distinctive forms and inclinations with surprising exactness, the quiet ruminants of our meadows adapt themselves to the wants and conveniences of mankind. In no other animal, with the exception of the dog and horse, is there so great a variety of kinds, and in none a more humble and confiding disposition.

The climate and pastures of Great Britain are well suited to this valuable quadruped. The first presents a grateful interchange of heat and cold; the second yields an infinite variety of wholesome and nutritious grasses: hence the number and excellence of our cattle, a source of inexhaustible wealth, the pride and boast of this favoured land.

I have used the word ruminating with reference to this animal; the term is appropriately given to such as chew the cud, and a few moments will not be unprofitably spent in briefly describing the means by which such a curious process is effected. Behold, therefore, somewhat of their formation. They are furnished with four stomachs; their food, after being masticated, is received into the first stomach, where it remains some time; after which it is forced up again into the mouth, and undergoes a second chewing; this done, it returns through the first into the second stomach, and gradually passes into the third and fourth, from whence it is received by long, capacious, and variouslyfolded intestines.

Mercifully designed by their Creator to withdraw mankind from savage and predacious habits, the Taurine group became in after ages objects of especial consideration; some even, forgetful of the Giver, in admiration of his gifts, rendered them objects of idolatrous regard. Thus the Egyptians deified the ox under the name of Apis and Mueris, while the cow was rendered emblematic of maternal nature

in the mythologic systems of ancient Greece. The bull holds a conspicuous station among the signs of the zodiac; the same animal typified the sun in more than one idolatrous observance; he became emblematic of irresponsible power among the Greeks and Romans, of strength also in warlike enterprises, and the sinews of commerce in connection with Mercury.

The editors of Cuvier's celebrated work on Natural History associated much of olden records with oxen, and, to those who are interested in the derivation of words from their origin, it may afford subject for thought and further research to be reminded that the words Thur, Tier, Toor, and Thur, in the northern dialects of Europe, signify well-known ruminants; and that a large bovine animal is mentioned in Cæsar's "Commentaries" by the name of Urus, signifying mysterious, fierce and sylvan, ancient and primeval. Hence, also, is the root of names attached to several countries in which the Taurine group of animals still exist. Thus Turcomania, Thurgau, the Canton of Uri, and the Thuringian Forest; Turan of Eastern Persia; Turan, southward of the Caucasian range of mountains, the cradle of the Turkish nation; to which we may add the Taurus Chersonesus, and the Tauri, a Sarmatian tribe, with the Taurini inhabiting Italy, near the present Turin. Throughout this wide range the gigantic Urus of ancient times has left his remains, or the more recent Urus delights to herd. Farewell, then, to the quiet occupant of yonder meadow. Farewell, gentle creature. If, as said Uncle Toby, we all fulfil our duties equally well, blessed will it be for us and for all with whom we are connected.

M. R.

PROPER DISTRIBUTION OF TIME. He who every morning plans the transactions of the day, and follows out that plan, carries on a thread which will guide him through the labyrinth of the most busy life. The ordinary arrangement of his time is like a ray of light, which darts itself through all his affairs. But where no plan is laid, where the disposal of time is surrendered merely to the chance of incidents, all things lie huddled together in one chaos, which admits neither of distribution nor review.-Blair.

CHANGES FROM YOUTH TO AGE.

Ir a reflective aged man were to find at the bottom of an old chest a record which he had written of himself when he was young, simply and vividly describing his whole heart and pursuits, and reciting verbatim many passages of the language which he sincerely uttered, would he not read it with more wonder than almost every other writing could at his age inspire? He would half lose the assurance of his identity, under the impression of this immense dissimilarity. It would seem as if it must be the tale of the juvenile days of some ancestor, with whom he had no connection but that of name. He would feel the young man thus introduced to him separated by so wide a distance of character as to render all congenial sociality impossible. At every sentence he would be tempted to repeat-" Foolish youth, I have no sympathy with your feelings; I can hold no converse with your understanding." Thus, you see that in the course of a long life a man may be several moral persons, so various from one another that, if you could find a real individual that should nearly exemplify the character in one of these stages, and another that should exemplify it in the next, and so on to the last, and then bring these several persons together into one society, which would thus be a representation of the successive states of one man, they would feel themselves a most heterogeneous party, would oppose and probably despise one another, and soon after separate, not caring if they were never to meet again. If the dissimilarity in mind were as great as in person, there would in both respects be a most striking contrast between the extremes at least, between the youth of seventeen and the sage of seventy. The one of those contrasts an old man might contemplate if he had a true portraite for which he sat in the bloom of his life, and should hold it beside a mirror in which he looks at his present countenance; and the other would be powerfully felt if he had such a genuine and detailed memoir as I have supposed. Might it not be worth while for a self-observant person, in early life, to preserve, for the inspection of the old man, if he should live so long, such a mental likeness of the young one?

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And there the hidden river lingering dreams,
You scarce can see the banks which round it lie;
That wither'd trunk a tree or shepherd seems,
Just as the light or fancy strikes the eye.
So blend their fleeces with the misty haze,
They look like clouds shook from the unsunn'd
sky,

Ere morning o'er the eastern hills did blaze;— The vision fades as they move further on to graze.

A chequer'd light streams in between the leaves, Which on the green sward twinkle in the sun; The deep-voiced thrush his speckled bosom

heaves,

And like a silver stream his song doth run
Down the low vale, edged with fir-trees dun.
A little bird now hops beside the brook,
Peeping about like an affrighted nun;
And ever as she drinks doth upward look,
Twitters and drinks again, then seeks her clois-
ter'd nook.

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So quick, each circle wears the first away;
Far out the tufted bulrush seems to dream
And to the ripple nods its head alway;
The water-flags with one another play.
Bowing to every breeze that blows between,
While purple dragon-flies their wings display:
Dimpling the sunny wave, then lost amid the
The restless swallow's arrowy flight is seen

green.

I WANDERED LONELY.

WORDSWORTH.

I wander'd lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host of golden daffodils,
Beside a lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle in the Milky-way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay;
Ten thousand saw I at a glance
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee :
A poet could not but be gay

În such a jocund company;

I gazed, and gazed, but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought. For oft, when on the couch I lie,

In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils

WISDOM.

IT is the way we go, the way of life;
A drop of pleasure in a sea of pain,
A grain of peace amid a load of strife,
With toil and grief, and grief and toil again:
Yea-but for this; the firm and faithful breast
Bolder than lions, confident and strong,
That never doubts its birthright to be blest,
And dreads no evil, while it does no wrong:
This, this is wisdom, manful and serene;

Towards God, all penitence, and prayer, and

trust;

But to the troubles of this shifting scene,
Simply courageous, and sublimely just;
Be then, such wisdom thine, my heart within-
There is no foe, nor woe, nor grief, but Sin.
TUPPER.

USEFUL RECEIPTS.

To take an impression from a Writing.-Add a little sugar to the ink you write with, then lay a sheet of thin unsized paper, damped with a sponge, upon the writing, and pass over it, very lightly, a flat smoothing-iron, moderately heated. -J. WELLS.

To Sweeten Casks.-When musty it is best to unhead large casks and whitewash them with quicklime. Or they may be matched with sulphur mixed with a little nitrate of potash, and afterwards well washed. Small casks may be sweetened by washing them first with sulphuric acid and then with clean water: afterwards let them be well swilled, until the foul smell disappears.-J. WELLS.

Indian Ink-Indian ink, equal in quality to that imported from China, may be made by holding a plate over the flame of a lamp or candle so as to receive the fine soot, and mixing this with size made from parchment or uncoloured leather. The Indian ink is made from fine lamp-black and size, with the addition of a little perfume, which latter is by no means essential to its quality as an ink.-J. WELLS.

To preserve Brass Ornaments. - Brass ornaments, when not gilt or lackered, may be cleaned in the same way, and a fine colour may be given to them by two simple processes. The first is to beat sal ammoniac into a fine powder, then to moisten it with soft water, rubbing it on the ornaments, which must be heated over charcoal, and rubbed dry with bran and whiting. The second is to wash the brass-work with roche alum boiled in strong ley, in the proportion of an ounce to a pint; when dry it must be rubbed with fine tripoli. Either of these processes will give to brass the brilliancy of gold.-J. R, Bath.

To Colour Harness.-The colour of harness that has become rusty or brown by wear may be restored to a fine black, after the dirt has been sponged off, by using the following mixture:Boil log-wood chips in three quarts of soft water, to which add three ounces of nutgalls, finely powdered, and one ounce of alum; simmer the whole together for half an hour, and it will be fit for use. A harness blacking is thus made: Melt two ounces of mutton suet with six ounces of beeswax, then add one ounce of indigo, finely powdered, six ounces of sugar-candy, dissolved in water, and two ounces of soft soap; mix, and simmer over the fire, when add a gill of turpentine. Lay it on with a sponge, and then polish.-J. S. C.

To preserve Polished Irons from Rust.-Polished iron-work may be preserved from rust by a mixture not very expensive, consisting of copal varnish intimately mixed with as much olive oil as will give it a degree of greasiness, adding thereto nearly as much spirit of turpentine as of varnish. The cast-iron work is best preserved by rubbing it with blacklead. But where rust has begun to make its appearance on grates or fire-irons, apply a mixture of tripoli with half its quantity of sulphur, intimately mingled on a marble slab, and laid on with a piece of soft leather: or emery and oil may be applied with

excellent effect; not laid on in the usual slovenly way, but with a spongy piece of the fig-tree fully saturated with the mixture. This will not only clean but polish, and render the use of whiting unnecessary.-M. BAKER, Leeds.

To make pure White Soap.-Take soda in crystals and put it into a barrel with layer about of quick-lime, and pour warm water upon it, suffering the liquor to leach out in the same manner that ashes are leached in the woods for making crude potash. This liquor should be filtered through straw, so as to have it pure and clear. Its specific gravity should be 1040 in the hydrometer

of melted suet or white tallow should be added, To every gallon of this lye 11lbs. and it should be kept boiling gently in a clean kettle for four hours. It should then be completely saponified, which can easily be tested by immersing a flat knife in it. When completely should then be drawn from the furnace, and a saponified it will shake on the spatula. The fire in. This is to cool the soap and separate it from handful of salt dissolved in cold water thrown

the water.

It can then be run off into frames, and when cool cut into proper cakes. This is a good soap, and is well adapted for making into toilet and other soaps.-Scientific American.

To preserve Flowers.-Procure some river sand, and let it be sifted through a fine sieve, then wash it well to remove all particles of dirt that may remain. Take a jar or a box, large enough to contain the flowers you wish to preserve; place a bed or layer of sand in it, and stick the stem of the flower in the sand, so that it may stand in a perpendicular position; then (from the sieve) shake the fine sand you have prepared gently on the flowers, taking care to spread out and arrange the leaves in their natural position, and see that the sand penetrate and lie well between the interstices of the blooms, which should be gathered in dry weather. Continue shaking on the sand till it has reached the height of about an inch above the flower. Shake the box gently during the above process, to ensure the requisite penetration of the sand into the open parts of the flower. If the plant be small, and of a dry nature, it will be sufficient to expose the jar containing it to the heat of the sun during a few of the hottest days of summer; but if it be large it must be placed in an oven after the bread has been withdrawn. Practice will alone enable any oue to judge exactly how long it may be necessary to leave it in the oven-say two or three hours. After the drying, the sand must be gently poured off, and if the degree of heat has not been too strong, the flower preserves for two or three years its primitive beauty. Some kinds of flowers demand more particular attention to secure their perfect preservation; thus, before burying tulips in the sand, it is necessary to take out their pistil, otherwise the petals would often be separated from the stem. The calyxes of pinks and carnations should be pierced in several places with a pin; it is well to use the same precaution with all double flowers. Should the leaves and stems have lost their verdure, it may be restored by exposing the plant to the gas arising from a mixture of steel filings and sulphuric acid diluted with water.-Recommended by JOSEPH BAKER.

ENIGMAS.

1.

I am of metal, pure or mix'd,
I vibrate ever to and fro;
I move at ease wherever fix'd,

And may be chain'd, yet freely go.
Though balanced in my speech and grave,
Precise and most monotonous,
A welcome place I always have
About your person and your house.
One thing in one continual round
I still repeat both night and day;
Yet is it often striking found,

And full of moment what I say.

I am consulted oftener far

Than either lawyer or M. D.;

Then prompt and sure my answers are,
And given, besides, without a fee.
In narrow compass lies my walk,
I trace the circuit with my hand;
Moving, I never fail to talk,

Or to be silent when I stand,

My progress by a spring is made,

I ne'er have walk'd, or dived, or flown; But when forgotten or mislaid

I have a way of running down. By me you commune with the sky

When darkness veils it from your sight; The sun by day I half supply,

And half the use of moon by night.

I help you on the trackless main,

Or desert wild, to mark your space;
And all that I report you gain
Merely by looking at my face.
In concert with the stars I tell

The course of this terrestrial ball;
And by my index as a spell

2

You measure that which measures all. Though sometimes said to fly or creep, I neither hasten nor delay; And all my business is to keep

What thousands daily throw away.

2.

If made of iron, wood, or brass,
I stop you where you wish to pass;
If I be earth, or stone, or sand,
My province still is to withstand;
But if in gold I should appear,

I smooth the road and make it clear.
I serve the herald to define
A spurious from a real line;
Serve the musician to divide
His measure, and his time decide.
The lawyer cannot take a fee
Till first he has been call'd to me;
But others think their case the best
And safest, when from me dismiss'd.

13.

What are those letters, four in group,
Used both in coining and in soup?
A tedious search from east and west
Is not the way to find them best:
But, take no thought or trouble in it,
And you may have them in a minute.

RIDDLES.

1.

Were ever seen such modes of loss and gain;
A will so wayward, or so strange a doom?
The more I get the smaller I become;
The more I lose the larger I remain.

2.

Your gardener plants me in the ground,
And bedded there my place I keep;
But if you simply turn me round,
My floating bed is in the deep.

3.

I move incessant to and fro,
Obedient to the moon and sun;
But though I serve both high and low,
All wait on me, I wait on none.

4.

You cannot fail to find my name,
When you have got this double handle;
In Scotia's northern bound I am,
And in the middle of a candle.
5.

Feeble I am and full of fears,
Close to the grave, and quite a wreck:
But take away a single speck,
And I remain a hundred years..

CHARADES.

1.

My first is Nature's work and plan, Which by my second oft is hid, The work and wit of man. My whole is Nature's work again, Which creeps into my first unbid, Tormenting it with pain.

2.

To those a second may be shown Who only first are reckon'd; But what am I no first who own, Yet always am a second?

3.

My first ought always to be cool,
My second must be always cold:
My whole, the dread of knave and fool,
Would strip the cheat and duck the scold.

4.

My first is drudge to all, a hireling slave:

My next a famous marshal, now no more; But join them in my third, and lo! you have The very hireling drudge I was before.

ANSWERS TO FAMILY PASTIME.
PAGE 60.

A CURIOUS LETTER. "Sir, between friends, I understand your overbearing disposition; a man even with the world is above contempt, whilst the ambitious are beneath ridicule." RIDDLES.-2. Thou-sand.

ENIGMAS. 1. Die. 2. A Door. 3. The Eye CHARADES. -1. Prim-rose. 2. Mur-mur. 3. End-less.

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