Carry this splendid machine to the coldest regions on the globe, set it up where the frosts are so crushing that nature seems to be trampled dead,—still it pours out its mysterious supplies with unabated profusion. It is an apparatus, too, which does its work unwatched, and in a great measure unaided. The very fuel, which is thrown into it in random heaps, is internally sifted and sorted, so that the true combustible elements are conveyed to their place and applied to their duty with unerring precision.

No hand is needed to trim its fires, to temper its glow, to remove its ashes. Smoke there is none, spark there is none, flame there is none. All is so delicately managed that the fairest skin is neither shrivelled nor blackened by the burning within. Is this apparatus placed in circumstances which rob it too fast of its caloric? Then the appetite becomes clamorous for food, and in satisfying its demands the fleshy stove is silently replenished. Or, are we placed in peril from superabundant warmth ? Then the tiny flood-gates of perspiration are flung open, and the surface is laid under water until the fires within are reduced to their wonted level.

Assailed on the one hand by heat, the body resists the attack, if resistance be possible, until the store of moisture is dissipated; assailed on the other by cold, it keeps the enemy at bay until the hoarded fuel is expended. Thus protected, thus provisioned, let us ask whether these human hearths are not entitled to rank among the standing marvels

of creation; for is it not startling to find, that, let the climate be mild or rigorous, let the wind blow from the sultry desert or come loaded with polar sleet, let the fluctuations of temperature be as violent as they may without us, there shall still be a calm, unchanging, undying summer within us?

Calor'ic, the principle of heat. [Lat. calor, heat; caleo, to be hot.] 2 Cap'illaries, the minute hair-like vessels in which the arteries terminate and the veins originate. [Lat. capillus, a hair; from caput, the head.]

3

Ep'icure, one fond of good living. [Gr. Epikouros, Epicurus, a philosopher who taught that pleasure was the highest. good.]

Es'quimau (Es-ke-mo), an inhabitant of the Arctic regions. 'Intuitively, instinctively; without reasoning,

• Eschews', shuns; avoids.

7 Hibernate, pass the winter in a state of torpor. [Lat. hiberno, to go into winter quarters; from hiems, winter.]

Jerbo'a, a small animal of the rat kind, with long hind legs like a kanga

GEORGE WILSON.

roo. One species is found in Egypt, another at the Cape of Good Hope.

9 Mar'mot, also an animal of the rat kind, but in size resembling the rabbit. Found in Europe and the north of Asia and of America. They form burrows and live in large societies.

10 Dor'mouse, the sleeping mouse; so called because it hibernates. 11 Leth'argy, state of torpor. [Gr. lethe, forgetfulness; argos, idle.]

13 Bru'in, the name under which the bear is personified; lit. the brown animal, [Du. bruin, Ger. braun, brown.]

13 Unguent, ointment 'bear's grease. [Lat. unguo, I anoint.] 14 Appara'tus, machinery. [Lat. ad, to; paratus, prepared.]

is Penu'riously, stingily; in a miserly

way.

QUESTIONS.-How is animal heat produced? Where does the carbon come from? When does the combustion take place? To what may our bodies therefore be compared? What is their fuel? Which is the best fuel? In what countries is it the chief food? What does the native of the tropics prefer? Why can a stout man survive without food longer than a lean man? What are hibernating animals? Give examples. How are they sustained during winter? What is perhaps the most striking feature in our heat-producing apparatus? How does it intimate that more fuel is required? How is excessive heat reduced?

A TIDE IN HUMAN AFFAIRS.

(To be written from memory.)

THERE is a tide in the affairs of men,

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune:

Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows, and in miseries :

And we must take the current when it serves,

Or lose our ventures.-SHAKESPEARE,

DAVID'S LAMENT FOR ABSALOM.

THE pall was settled. He who slept beneath
Was straightened for the grave; and, as the folds
Sank to the still proportions, they betrayed
The matchless symmetry of Absalom.1

His helm was at his feet: his banner, soiled
With trailing through Jerusalem, was laid
Reversed, beside him: and the jewelled hilt,
Whose diamonds lit the passage of his blade,
Rested, like mockery, on his covered brow.
The soldiers of the king trod to and fro,
Clad in the garb of battle; and their chief,
The mighty Joab, stood beside the bier,
And gazed upon the dark pall steadfastly,
As if he feared the slumberer might stir.
A slow step startled him. He grasped his blade,
As if a trumpet rang; but the bent form
Of David entered, and he gave command,
In a low tone, to his few followers,

And left him with his dead. The king stood still
Till the last echo died; then, throwing off
The sackcloth 2 from his brow, and laying back
The pall from the still features of his child,
He bowed his head upon him, and broke forth
In the resistless eloquence of woe ;-

"Alas! my noble boy! that thou shouldst die!
Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair!
That Death should settle in thy glorious eye,
And leave his stillness in this clustering hair!
How could he mark thee for the silent tomb,
My proud boy, Absalom!

"Cold is thy brow, my son! and I am chill,

As to my bosom I have tried to press thee! How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill,

Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, And hear thy sweet 'My father!' from those dumb And cold lips, Absalom!

“The grave hath won thee! I shall hear the gush
Of music, and the voices of the young;
Aud life will pass me in the mantling blush,

And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung;—-
But thou no more with thy sweet voice shalt come
To meet me, Absalom!

"And oh! when I am stricken, and my heart,

Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken,
How will its love for thee, as I depart,

Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token!
It were3 so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom,
To see thee, Absalom!

"And now, farewell! 'Tis hard to give thee up,
With death so like a gentle slumber on thee!—
And thy dark sin!-oh! I could drink the cup,

If from this woe its bitterness had won 5 thee.
May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home,
My lost boy, Absalom!"

6

He covered up his face, and bowed himself
A moment on his child; then, giving him
A look of melting tenderness, he clasped
His hands convulsively, as if in prayer.
And, as if strength were given him of God,
He rose up calmly, and composed the pall?
Firmly and decently,—and left him there,
As if his rest had been a breathing sleep.

Ab'salom.-Absalom was son of King David of Israel. He rebelled against his father, who fled across the river Jordan into Gilead. Absalom also crossed the Jordan, with a large army; but he was defeated by Joab in the wood of Ephraim and slain after the battle. When David heard of his death, he said, “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!" (2 Samuel xviii. 33.)

Sack cloth, coarse cloth; a garment worn by the Israelites in time of mourning.

4

N. P. WILLIS."

It were-it would be. Thy dark sin - his rebellion against David.

5 Had won-could have won. • Convulsively, with violent shaking or agitation.

Composed the pall-arranged the shroud, or covering of the dead body.

N. P. Willis, a modern American poet and essayist; born at Portland, Maine, in 1817; began to write in 1857; became Secretary of the American Legation at Paris; best known work, Pencillings by the Way, an account of his travels in Europe; died in 1867.

THE recently arrived stranger naturally manifests surprise and incredulity on being told that the estimated population of Canton exceeds a million. When, however, he visits the close streets, with their dense population and busy wayfarers, huddled together in lanes from five to nine feet wide, where Europeans could scarcely inhale the breath of life, the greatness of the number no longer appears incredible. After the first feelings of novelty have passed away, disappointment, rather than admiration, occupies the mind. On leaving the open space before the factories, we behold an endless succession