I never never could forget

The image of thy rest.

But hush! who would not tread the path

Which thou, sweet babe, hast trod, To reach the home were thou art now,

The bosom of thy God!

Who would not bear what we have borne,
To whom like us 'twas given
Awhile, to love a spotless child,
Then give a saint to Heaven.

MILITARY ANECDote.

A grenadier in the Duke of Berwick's army being taken marauding, was sentenced to die. His officers went in a body to the duke, and represented to him, that the unhappy man was one of the bravest soldiers in the army. The duke, however, ordered the provost to do his duty. The grenadier was conducted to the place of punishment; but in the instant they were about to tie his hands, he found means to slip away, and concealed himself in the camp. The duke, informed of his escape, ordered that the provost should be hanged up in his stead. The provost threw himself at his feet, and protested his innocence, but all in vain: the inexorable duke ordered him to immediate execution. The concealed grenadier, being informed of this circumstance, with an exalted generosity of sentiment, instantly repaired to the duke. "" 'My lord," said he, "I am the criminal: I am informed that an inno

cent man is to die in my stead. As he had no hand in my escape, order him to be brought back; and I die content." This greatness of soul instantly disarmed the general, who pardoned them both.

STANZAS FOR EVENING.

There is an hour when leaves are still, and winds sleep on the wave; When far beneath the closing clouds the

day hath found a grave;

And stars that at the note of dawn begin their circling flight,

Return, like sun-tired birds, to seek the sable boughs of night.

The curtains of the mind are closed, and slumber is most sweet,

And visions to the hearts of men direct their fairy feet;

The wearied wing hath gained a tree, pain sighs itself to rest,

And beauty's bridegroom lies upon the pillow of her breast.

There is a feeling in that hour which tumult ne'er hath known,

Which nature seems to dedicate to silent things alone; JULY, 1831.

The spirit of the lonely wakes, as rising

from the dead,

And finds its shroud adorned with flowers, its night lamp newly fed.

The mournful moon her rainbows hath, and 'mid the blight of all

That garlands life, some blossoms live, like lilies on a pall;

Thus while to lone affliction's couch some

stranger-joy may come,

The bee that hoardeth sweets all day hath sadness in its hum.

Yet some there are whose fire of years leaves no remembered spark,

Whose summer time itself is bleak, whose The stem, though naked, yet may live, the very day-break dark. But if at first the root be cleft, it lies a leaf, though perished, cling; branchless thing.

And oh to such, long, hallow'd nights their patient music send;

The hours like drooping angels walk, more graceful as they bend;

And

Aud

stars emit a hope-like ray, that melts as it comes nigh,

nothing in that calm hath life that doth not wish to die.

STANZAS.

By T. K. Hervey.

How sweet to sleep where all is peace,
Where sorrow cannot reach the breast,
Where all life's idle throbbings cease,

And pain is lull'd to rest ;--
Escaped o'er fortune's troubled wave,
To anchor in the silent grave!
That quiet land where, peril past,
The weary win a long repose,
The bruised spirit finds, at last,

A balm for all its woes,
And lowly grief, and lordly pride,
Lie down, like brothers, side by side!
The breath of slander cannot come

To break the calm that lingers there;
There is no dreaming in the tomb,

Nor waking to despair; Unkindness cannot wound us more, And all earth's bitterness is o'er.

There the maiden waits till her lover come

They never more shall part ;And the stricken deer has gained her home, With the arrow in her heart; And passion's pulse lies hushed and still, Beyond the reach of tempter's skill. The mother-she is gone to sleep,

With her babe upon her breast,She has no weary watch to keep Over her infant's rest;

F

THE CABINET CYCLOPEDIA. Natural Philosophy. Optics. By David Brewster. L.L. D. F.R. S. &c. London, 1831. Longman and Co. This volume forms the nineteenth number of Dr. Lardner's Cyclopædia. It is divided into four parts. 1. Catoptrics and Dioptrics, the reflection and refraction of light. 2. Physical Optics, or that branch of the science which treats on the physical properties of light. 3. The application of optical principles to the explanation of natural phenomena. 4. Optical Instruments. This is a work not only useful inasmuch as that it is highly instructive, but the facts and experiments by which it is illustrated are, in many instances, full of amusement; and propositions which, to the uninitiated, would appear absurd and impossible, are proved in language so easy and unaffected, as to render them intelligible to the capacity of most minds. It is strange that men are so little wont to investigate causes which are of every day occurrence; and we fear that this total inattention to objects of scientific inquiry has, in a great measure, arisen from the laboured and lengthy treatises which people, whose leisure and means are both alike limited, are little able to wade through. But in the work before us cheapness and conciseness, the best conveyers of general instruction, are blended; and we trust that it will be the means of creating a wider diffusion of scientific knowledge among those classes which have hitherto been almost ignorant of its usefulness, if not altogether blind to its value.

We give the following extract on the production of artificial halos.

"The production of halos may be illustrated experimentally by crystallizing va rious salts upon plates of glass, and look ing through the plates at the sun or a candle. When the crystals are granular and properly formed, they will produce the finest effects. A few drops of a saturated solution of alum, for example, spread over a plate of glass so as to crystallize quickly, will cover it with an imperfect crust, consisting of flat octohedral crystals, scarcely visible to the eye. When the

observer, with his eye placed close behind the smooth side of the glass plate, looks through it at a luminous body, he will perceive three fine halos at different distances, encircling the source of light. The interior halo, which is the whitest of the three, is formed by the refraction of the rays through a pair of faces in the crystals that are least inclined to each other. The second halo, which is blue without and red within, with all the prismatic colours, is formed by a pair of more inclined faces; and the third halo, which is large and brilliantly coloured, from the increased refraction and dispersion, is formed by the most inclined faces. As each crystal of alum has three pair of each of these included prisms, and as these refracting faces will have every possible direction to the horizon, it is easy to understand how the halos are completed and equally luminous throughout. When the crystals have the property of double refraction, and when their axis is perpendicular to the plates, more beautiful combinations will be produced."

And in the chapter on unusual refraction we find the subjoined description of the Fata Morgana seen in the straits of Messina.

"The celebrated fata morgana, which is seen in the straits of Messina, and which for many centuries astonished the vulgar and perplexed philosophers, is obviously a phenomenon of this kind. A spectator on an eminence in the city of Reggio, with his back to the sun and his face to the sea, and when the rising sun shines from that point whence its incident ray forms an angle of about 45° on the sea of Reggio, sees upon the water numberless series of pilasters, arches, castles well delineated, regular columns, lofty towers, superb palaces with balconies and windows, villages and trees, plains with herds and flocks, armies of men on foot and on horseback, all passing rapidly in succession on the surface of the sea. These same objects are, in particular states of the atmosphere, seen in the air, though less vividly; and when the air is hazy and dewy they are seen on the surface of the sea, vividly coloured, or fringed with all the prismatic colours."

And in the chapter on optical instruments we have the following account of the power of plane burning mirrors.

"A combination of plane burning mirrors forms a powerful burning instrument; and it is highly probable that it was with such a combination that Archimedes destroyed the ships of Marcellus. Athanasius Kircher, who first proved the efficacy

TALES OF A PHYSICIAN.

By W. H. HarriLondon: Jennings

son. Second Series. and Chaplin. 1831. The modesty with which these tales are submitted to the public, deserves commendation, but surely the writer need not crave "exceeding pardon" for the publication of one of the most interesting volumes which have for some time passed our critical ordeal. We know, indeed, no better work which a fond father could present to his children, than that before us. The first series was excellent--the second, if possible, surpasses it. There breathes throughout so much beauty of language, and purity of sentiment, the interest of each narrative is so well interwoven with moral precept and religious lore, that it can hardly fail to bet ter the understanding and improve the heart. The first story," Cousin Tomkins," is particularly excellent. We must preface our quotation by premising that Mr. Edward Stanley, a gentleman of large possessions, marries very early in life a lady whose personal accomplishments were her only recommendation. Her mind and disposition were by no means of the most brilliant caste-she was of bumble origin, her parents having, by successful speculation, risen from indigence to comparative wealth. As too frequently happens, under such circumstances, Mrs. Stanley was proud and overbearing, fond of gaiety, and in her restless pursuit of pleasure, left her only child (a daughter) to the sole management of an amiable and exemplary governess. Under her tuition, Miss Stanley imbibed those admirable principles and rules of conduct which smoothed the rugged path of after-life, and threw a shield around her amid the darkest storms of adversity. Amongst Mrs. Stanley's "relations, there was one who happened to be a tailor, and who, to her inconceivable horror, had the undisputed honour of being her first cousin, and bearing the family name. Had he kept a chandler's shop, he might have been designated a provision merchant; or, if a cheesemonger, he might have been described by the style and title of a bacon factor; but a tailor is a tailor, all the world over, and there is no synonyme in our vocabulary by which to dignify the calling.

"Her dread of being associated, in any shape, with this industrious member of a most useful trade, was said to have exhibited itself in the most ridiculous extremes. A table vegetable, vulgarly supposed to be symbolical of the sartorial art, was never admitted at the banquet, lest its presence should give rise to an unuttered sarcasm, or a mental sneer, among her fashionable guests. Nay, it was even insinuated, that

no other reason could be assigned for the stopping up of a side window in the house, than the fact of its commanding a view of a certain cutler's, who, by way of sign, had adopted a Patagonian pair of shears, which spanned his door-posts, like a Colossus.

"But Cousin Tomkins, the tailor, was as little ambitious of contact with his fair and proud relative, as she could be of his connexion. He was a sturdy and independent spirited man, who had too much good sense to be ashamed of a calling, by which he was not only gaining a livelihood, but accumulating wealth. He was, moreover, better informed than the generality of his caste, for he had studied other pages than his pattern book, and, above all, was well read in that volume, compared with which the wisdom of the most subtle philosophy that ever dazzled the world is foolishiness and vanity.

Never, but on a single occasion, and that an urgent one of a family nature, did Tomkins intrude himself on the presence of his fashionable cousin, whose contemptuous civility supplied him with little inducement to repeat the visit. Stung by the sense of treatment, from which common decency, if not his relationship, should have protected him, he was hurrying back through the lacquey-lined hall, when his progress was arrested by a fair-haired, blue-eyed girl, of about six years old, who, looking up in his face with an innocent smile, accosted him by the appellation of cousin, and, thrusting a little bunch of violets into his hand, dismissed him at the door with a laughing good-by'e.' It was little Clara Stanley, whom some of the servants, probably in sport, had informed of the visiter's relationship, and whose mother took occasion, on being told of the circumstance, severely to reprehend, for the familiarity of which she had been guilty. Children, however, are sorry casuists, and Mrs. Stanley's eloquence utterly failed in convincing Clara that there was less impropriety in romping with her cousin the guardsman, than in shaking hands with Cousin Tomkins, the tailor. Tomkins, on his part, was much affected by the child's behaviour, and, on his return home, he placed the little bunch of faded violets between the leaves of his Bible, alleging that he should daily be reminded of the incident, and learn to forgive the unkindness of the parent, for the sake of the innocence of the child."

When Clara arrived at the age of eighteen, both parents died within a short period of each other, and as Mr. Stanley had never been a provident man, our poor little heroine was cast on the wide world without money, and without one earthly protector.