In order to show how easily and positively persons may be lost in the woods, and that too within a very limited space, the following true and actual occurrence may be adduced in proof; and all who doubt the possibility and sneer at the results, had better have patience until they have the misfortune to be in the position described, and then they may try what effect contempt will produce in finding their way amongst millions of objects so nearly alike, that it requires long and stedfast observation to mark the most trifling distinctions.

I had long wished to behold a prairie; the very name was classic to me, and conveyed ideas of beauty and of grandeur which nothing could surpass. The very contrariety of opinion as to the origin of these strange seas of land added to the interest they created, and my impressions were all in their favour. A level or a rolling plain of almost unbounded extent, and cut out as if by art from the forest, totally destitute of anything even like a shrub, except where an occasional clump of full-grown trees obtruded itself, adding to the beauty and loveliness of the whole, presents a wonderful object for contemplation to the inquiring mind; and, however desirable it is to know why such places should exist, all researches have terminated hitherto in vague theories, not one of which the reason will admit as satisfactory.

At length I got an opportunity. A friend resident in Chatham, a small but thriving settlement on the river Thames in Canada West, offered to accompany me to a little prairie (but still a real prairie) lying six miles to the south-west in the township of Tilbury, extending four or five miles along the shores of Lake Sinclair, and penetrating about as far inland. It was during the last days of the winter of 1837; and although the snow lay about four inches deep in the bush, yet we were informed that the prairie was free. Winter in Canada West is sometimes very mild, and it is rarely that the snow lies continuously during the season. In order to reach the prairie with certainty, it was agreed that we should go up the "town line," as the road dividing any two townships is called, and on which, wherever the land has been even partially settled, the trees have been cut down, leaving a sort of road certainly passable at all times to men and horses, and sometimes even to waggons with four wheels, provided they are carefully driven, and guiltless of a load! Their chief use is for the sleighs in winter, when only the bush farmer can bring his produce to market. A small creek or rivulet flowing from the prairie crossed this road. Being sheltered from the sun, it was still frozen, and we walked along upon the ice in an irregular avenue of splendid trees, as the surest route to our place of destination, which we at length reached with ease. It is unnecessary to pause in order to describe what so many have already described. Suffice it to say, that the only peculiarity we observed, and which neither of us had heard of before in relation to pra

Our route was again to be by the frozen creek, and just as the sun had disappeared under the horizon, tinging some wild and ominous looking clouds with a crimson hue, indicative of any thing but a night of calm, we bade adieu to the Prairie, and commenced our homeward journey. Unfortunately the creek contained many little bays jutting into the land on either side; and sometimes it happened that these bays were opposite, forming with the intermediate creek diminutive lakes. While the light continued these were confusing enough, but by and bye, as that disappeared, and darkness began to pour its shadows around us, we totally lost all idea of the proper direction in which to proceed,-often thinking we were keeping straight along on the creek, and then finding ourselves brought up at the termination of a bay. A halt was called and a consultation held, which ended, as might have been expected, in a joint confession of complete bewilderment, and an expression of resolution to push forwards at all hazards in some direction or another. It was better than standing still, so on we went, groping in ignorance, and very probably going back instead of advancing. In a little time we came to a log-hut in the midst of a grove of the sugar maple, which had been used for shelter by the sugar boilers during the short period in the spring when the manufacture is carried on. The hut looked so comfortable that we fixed to remain within its welcome walls until morning; we had commenced a search for firewood in all directions, when, most unfortunately as it turned out, I espied through the lofty tops of the leafless trees the reflection of the sun's rays yet tinging the now fast rolling clouds. I called my friend, and pointing at my notable discovery, proposed, as we now knew one point of the compass, to take our departure accordingly, and trust to the moss on the north side of the trees for a guide after the reflection in the north-west should have disappeared. Anxious about what his family would think of his absence, he at once agreed, though cautioning me that our chance of getting home was but feeble, and as our course lay nearly north-east, we set off, keeping the reddened clouds in our north-west on our left shoulders. We had not proceeded far ere the snow, which had been threatening ever since sundown, began to fall thick and fast, and the darkness suddenly became intense. The red clouds had of course now entirely disappeared, and we had nothing to trust to save that knowledge which some little insight into Indian habits had given us. It was now that we bitterly repented of having left the sugar hut, a proposal

was made to return,—it was useless labour and time spent in vain; after a whole hour's wandering we might have been close to it, but as we could perceive nothing, or rather, as we could feel nothing but trees,we gave up the search in despair, resolving to continue our endeavours after a north-east course, by maintaining which we would come into the road or town line, which divides the two townships of Harwich and Raleigh. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to push on, feeling occasionally round the large trees for the moss to indicate our direction. In the deep bush an everlasting calm prevails; the wind may rage a tempest aloft amongst the branches, -nay, may tear the most gigantic fathers of the forest up by the roots, and yet all below remain perfectly still and serene; consequently the snow never drifts there; and although it fell very thick and heavy, it did not much impede our way; the cold, however, was severe enough, and in order to warm ourselves we began to run as we best could, considering the place and circumstances, in a sort of jog-trot in Indian file. We had continued thus, as nearly as could be judged, an hour, sometimes the one leading the route, and sometimes the other, until we at length both became almost worn out by fatigue, and the depressing feeling of uncertainty which pervaded our minds regarding our proceedings, when, all of a sudden, I struck against a fallen tree, fell heels over head on the other side, bruising one of my thighs dreadfully, and almost breaking my gun and my neck-while my friend unwittingly followed in double-quick time, pitching right into me with the weight and the force of a buffalo! Here was a consummation! To proceed was now less than ever desirable, and another council of war was held. The facts which we could not shut our eyes against, were simple and few. First, there was lameness in me; second, fatigue in both of us; and lastly, there was the reflection that although we might be able to creep along, still we had no real confidence that we were in the right path. Taking all these into serious consideration, and that the branches of the fallen tree over which we had just been precipitated, would afford us a sufficiency of firewood, we at length concluded to endeavour to kindle a fire, cook our pheasant, and rough out the night as we best could. Clearing, therefore, a piece of ground from the snow with our feet, breaking up the rotten branches, and cutting others with our pocket-knives, we soon accumulated enough of firewood to last out the night. How to produce a light seemed, however, at first somewhat difficult-flint and steel we had none-the gun was a percussion one-and we felt a little at sea. At last we hit on the notable plan of tearing pieces of linen from our shirts, smearing one of them with wet gunpowder, and firing it against a tree from one of the barrels, taking care to ram it down next the powder. Our success was most signal; we soon had a blaze, which was communicated to the wood, and in an incredibly short space of time we were sitting comfortably at a splendid fire, endeavouring to satisfy the cravings of thirst and hunger, by melting snow in the mouth, and making a most ravenous repast, eaten in a very savage manner, on the roasted flesh of the pheasant from the prairie, without bread or salt-luxuries which we scarcely missed at the time, and which can be very easily dispensed with on occasions similar to that we are describing.

A desire for sleep somehow naturally follows in the wake of fatigue and repletion; and as our arrangements for repose were of the simplest kind, we were both soon buried in the depths of oblivion,

after having heaped on the fire our whole stock of wood, and turned our feet towards the kindly blaze. It would be quite impossible to say how long we slept, when we both started to our feet simultaneously, awakened by the prolonged and hideous howl of a pack of wolves in the very immediate vicinity. However regardless the natives of America may be about wolves, knowing that in that country these brutes are of a cowardly disposition, seldom, if ever, attacking human beings, but rather avoiding them, yet to us Europeans, whose minds, on being thus suddenly startled, naturally reverted to the savage wolf of Russia and the Pyrenees, the fact of hearing the sound of their yelpings so very near, did most incontestibly create in us a most serious alarm. Scarcely, however, had we time to collect our scattered senses-partly dispelled by sleep, and partly by fear-when, to our indescribable and most unbounded joy, we heard, mingling with the roar of the wolves, the sound of a buffalo horn, most lustily blown at no great distance by some satyr of the settlements, prolonging its cheering notes through the forest, and ultimately silencing, if not dispersing, the unwelcome visitors. It is customary for each settler in the bush to provide himself with a horn of some kind, which is used for two purposes, the one to call the labourers from the fields to their meals, and the other to scare the wolves. Aware of this fact, we consequently knew that we were near to some bush farm or other, at which, could we succeed in reaching it, we were sure of food and shelter till the morning. Hallooing therefore as loudly as possible, and firing off the gun, we were very glad to hear our signal returned by repeated solos on the horn, superior then to any I had ever heard, and, guiding our steps by the sound, we had not gone above two hundred yards when we stumbled on the fence of a clearance, and passing that, on a log shanty, in the door of which stood a man, who welcomed us heartily to all the accommodation he had to give. Explanations were asked and given, and where, on all the earth, do you think we were? why, just beside the "town line," and within less than a mile of Chatham! Although we had performed the feat in daylight, with every advantage to help us, we could not have come more directly to the right spot! But for all that, I have but little faith in the mossy side of a tree for a guide; and God forbid that I should ever have to trust to it in any or similar circumstances.

We did not halt, our way was now impossible to be mistaken, being an open road, and, by half-past three in the morning, we had the pleasure of reposing our wearied limbs and agitated minds in comfortable warm beds, surrounded by all the comforts which the partial civilization of a new settlement affords; but which far exceed those attainable by the most civilized savages, and such we certainly were that night.

Miscellaneous.

THOUGHTS OF THE MOMENT.-A man would do well to carry a pocket pencil in his pocket, and write down the Those that come unsought for thoughts of the moment. are commonly the most valuable, and should be secured, because they seldom return.-Bacon.

CONVERSATION.-Great talents for conversation require to be accompanied with great politeness. He who eclipses others owes them great civilities, and, whatever mistaken vanity may tell us, it is better to please in conversation than to shine in it.-Johnson.

GREEN FROG BAROMETERS.-These frogs are used on the continent as barometers. The first I ever saw was in a shop at Munich. On inquiring of the owner, he informed me he had had it for several years. It was kept in a tall confectioner's glass about a foot high, with a piece of coarse gauze or muslin tied over the top. At the bottom was some wet moss, sufficiently deep for the little creature to hide itself in this was changed every week or fortnight. It was very fond of flies, but these, the man said, he gave it occasionally, more as a bonne bouche than as a matter of food. A little wooden ladder reached from the bottom to within an inch of the top of the glass. As the weather changed, so did froggy ascend or descend; and if it was to set fair he would sometimes sit for days on the top step; whilst, if bad weather came, he would also for days hide himself in the wet moss. I afterwards mentioned the circumstance to the late Mr Douce. He expressed a strong desire for one, which, with some difficulty, I procured on my next visit to the continent. This lived with me for many weeks. I had a basket made, into which the glass dropped, and which I suspended in the carriage. I am quite sure at last the little creature knew me. Its eyes would sparkle when I came up to it. If I gave it a fly, it would suffer the insect to buzz about for perhaps a minute, then make a sudden dart, and swallow it in a mouthful. Unfortunately, Mr Douce placed it in a glass nearly filled with water, and it died soon after he had it. I have never since been able to procure another. They are extremely interesting. and, in an elegant-shaped glass, would form a most beautiful and useful ornament in any drawing-room as a barometer.-Gardener's Chronicle.

A MAN OF FORTUNE.-One who is so unfortunate as to be released from the necessity of employment for the mind and exercise for the body, the two great constituents of happiness and health; who has everything to fear and nothing to hope, and who consequently pays in anxiety and ennui more than the value of his

money.

THE ALPHABET.-Among all the productions and inventions of human skill, there is none more admirable and useful than writing, by means whereof a man may copy out his very thoughts, utter his mind without opening his mouth, and signify his pleasure at a thousand miles distance, and this by the help of twenty-four letters, and fewer in some places; by variously joining and combining of which letters, all words that are utterable and imaginable may be framed; for the several ways of joining and combining of these letters amount (as Clevius, a Jesuit, hath taken pains to compute) to 585,261,673,849,766,400 ways, so that all things in heaven or earth, that are, or were, or shall be, that can be uttered or imagined, may be expressed and signified by the help of this marvellous alphabet, which may be described in the compass of a farthing. History of Manual Art.

Poetry.

SONG OF THE SPIRIT OF POVERTY,
BY ELIZA COOK.

A SONG, a song, for the Beldame Queen-
A Queen that the world knows well,
Whose portal of state is the workhouse gate,
And throne the prison cell.

I have been crown'd in every land
With nightshade steep'd in tears;

I've a dog-gnawn bone for my sceptre wand,
Which the proudest mortal fears.

No gem I wear in my tangled hair.
No golden vest I own;

No radiant glow tints cheek or brow→→
Yet say, who dares my frown?

Oh, I am Queen of a ghastly court,
And tyrant sway I hold,

Bating human hearts for my royal sport,

With the bloodhounds of Hunger and Cold!

My power can change the purest clay From its first and beautiful mould, Till it hideth away from the face of day, Too hideous to behold.

Oh, I am a Queen of a ghastly court,
And the handmaids that I keep
Are such phantom things as fever brings
To haunt the fitful sleep!

See, see, they come in my haggard train,
With jagged and matted locks

Hanging round them, as rough as the wild steed's

mane,

Or the black weed on the rocks.

They come with broad and horny palms;
They come in maniac guise,

With angled chins, and yellow skins,
And hollow starting eyes.

They come to be girded with leather and link,
And away at my bidding they go,

To toil where the soulless beast would shrink,
In the deep damp caverns below.
Daughters of beauty, they, like ye,
Are of gentle womankind,
And wonder not if little there be
Of angel form and mind.

If I'd held your cheeks by as close as a pinch,
Would that flourishing rose be found?
If I'd doled you a crust out, inch by inch,
Would your arms have been so round?

Oh, I am a Queen, with a despot rule
That crushes to the dust!

The laws that I deal hear no appeal,
Though ruthless and unjust.

I deaden the bosom, and darken the brain
With the might of the demon's skill;
The heart may struggle, but struggle in vain,
As I grapple it harder still.

Oh, come with me, and ye shall see
How well I begin the day;

For I'll high to the hungriest slave I have,
And snatch his loaf away!

Oh, come with me, and ye shall see
How my skeleton victims fall;
How I order the graves without a stone,
And the coffins without a pall.

Then a song, a song, for the Beldame Queen-
A Queen that ye fear right well;

For my portal of state is the workhouse gate, And my throne the prison cell!

American Paper,

WHEN DO YOU RISE?

On the morning on which this humble sheet professes to be published, the sun, in popular language, rose upon the British Islands at four o'clock. Reader, when did you rise? Assuming that you rose at the average period observed by the inhabitants of this country, we may fix the hour somewhere about nine o'clock that is, five hours after "morning" commenced "the waving of her golden hair." Your sluggishness has robbed you of time, that most precious of all things, and it has robbed you of a species of time which cannot be computed by the ordinary notations of clock or sand-glass.

Early rising is one of those good and proper habits which few except invalids dare openly to impugn-it has everything to recommend it, and nothing to retard it in public estimation, except that it runs counter to ease and self-indulgence-and yet how few people are there who systematically persevere in the habit. It promotes health, punctuality, morals, and despatch both in study and business; and yet it is not observed a result which, we apprehend, arises from the very simple reason that we do not pay the attention that we ought to all or any of these matters. At some stage of existence most persons have risen early or resolved to do it; but custom has become to them a second nature, and they contentedly plod on in their old ways; while others still cherish the idea of reform, although, for the last few years, they have tried the experiment for a morning or two, and as regularly broken through it. Our object, accordingly, is twofold-it is to arouse the contented sluggard, and to stimulate the uneasy one,

In addressing the class who rise late, it would be unfair to denominate the whole of them sluggards, --for that term, strictly speaking, implies those who, going to bed early in the evening, continue to luxuriate there until an advanced hour in the morning. Such persons, if rich, lead the life of a certain country squire, who stated that he spent his time" in eating fat bacon, swinging on a gate, and staring at mail coaches"-if poor, their desires are few, and they consume the days of their years in a state of torpor not far removed from the vitality of zoophytes. With such people it is useless to argue-they are mere masses of clay, and cannot be reasoned with;

Copyright, MISCELLANEOUS, POETRY.-Morning,

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and one might as well speak of colours to a blind man, or sounds to a deaf one, as talk to them of activity, mental or bodily. But there are others who rise late, and yet are differently constitutedand with these we have not to set the stone in motion, we have merely to change its direction. They are vigorous, energetic men, and bear the burden and heat of the day in all the matters of actual life-but they rise late. Why? They go to bed irregularly-and that answer involves a great deal. A thousand small items in a man's doings, even when taken separately, will illustrate his character with truthful certainty-just as the eye, when looking through a chink, of the circumference of a pinhead, can see all that is going on in a large apartment; and lateness in going to bed is one of these diamond sized indications. Is it the public meeting, the counting-house, the shop, the committeeroom, the theatre, the concert, the ball, the evening party, the tavern, or the study, that keeps you late? Occasionally there may be cases where one or other of these places may legitimately keep you from your couch beyond midnight, but, like angels' visits, such instances are few and far between; and whether duty or pleasure, for all these things are resolvable into the one or the other, be the cause of your unseasonable hours, you are on a false track, nay on dangerous ground, if you persevere in a course which leads to irregularity in the hours of repose.

Is duty your object? Then know that one hour in the morning is worth three at midnight, positively three, if you take into account the increased mental power, the additional healthfulness, and the indications afforded, by morning work, of temperance and order. No amount of business can by possibility justify systematic midnight labour and late rising. The ablest men of business, and those who get through most work, have, since the beginning of the world, risen early. Scott, Wellington, Wesley, and all who have distinguished themselves by sustained effort, no matter of what kind, have acknowledged their success to have arisen from this cause. If pleasure keeps you abroad at night, beware of the hollow ground on which you are treading, and go back in time, if you value soul or body, friends or reputation. The man who gives his nights to the cup or public assemblies, will succeed in nothing except in

losing his health, and unfitting himself for action in this life, and for preparation for that which is to come. There is but one royal road to success in every department of human occupation, and that is constant, unremitting attention; and no real progress can be made in any undertaking by him who, in search of recreation, loveth the darkness rather than the light. But apart from mere worldly advancement, every one has, or should have, a home, to which, as the haven of peace, he should resort at the close of the day; and fearfully indicative is it of receding principle, when the tranquil pleasures of the domestic circle lose their hold on the sympathies. When the debauchee has reached the lowest hell of degradation, many is the reminiscence that rises before him, unsolicited and unwelcome, of the quiet fireside of early days, now placed at a hopeless distance from one whom indulgence has enervated, and whose unbridled passions have driven to the tomb the cheerful faces which were wont to reflect back the glow of the family "ingle." Those pleasures are dearly purchased which keep a wife, a sister, or an aged mother, watching and weeping, during the lone hours of night, for the return of the absent and the erring. Be warned, then, in time of this cause of late rising.

But taking still lower ground, mere comfort in getting through the business of the day should lead to early rising. Generally speaking, every one has some definite hour at which he must do a given thing, or be at a particular place, each morning; and inestimable is the advan tage when, by timeous departure from the pillow, the given duty is leisurely performed; whereas, if rising be delayed till the last possible moment, all is hurry and confusion-the toilette duties are discharged with fearful haste-breakfast is cold, and is despatched with equal rapidityhousehold messages are heard, but entering at one ear they escape at the other-the door is hastily opened and as hastily shut, and the late-riser hurries up the street, breathless and short-winded. He arrives too late for his particular business, and he hurries and blusters through his affairs for the whole day, without being able to make up what the sailors call "lee way." A day well begun may occasionally go wrong afterwards; but it rarely happens that when a day is ill begun that the defaulter recovers his lost time or his regularity. And yet some people groan continually at their want of punctuality in such matters, and vow mentally and audibly that they will make an entire change, but the meshes of habit have gradually been closing around them, and what was at first light as the airy bindings of a spider's web, have grown on and been interwoven until they have obtained the consistency of ropes, which bind the victim helplessly to the ground. The Rev. James Hamilton most graphically describes this class of persons:

"A singular mischance has occurred to some of our friends. At the instant when he ushered them on existence, God gave them a work to do, and he also gave them a competency of time; so much time, that if they began at the right moment, and wrought with sufficient vigour, their time and their work would end together. But a good many years ago a strange misfortune befel them. A fragment of their allotted time was lost. They cannot tell what became of it, but sure enough it has dropped out of existence; for just like two measuring lines laid alongside, the one an inch shorter than the other, their work and their time run parallel, but the work is always ten minutes in advance of the time. They

are not irregular. They are never too soon. Their letters are posted the very minute after the mail is shut; they arrive at the wharf just in time to see the steam-boat off; they come in sight of the terminus precisely as the station-gates are closing. They do not break any engagement nor neglect any duty; but they systematically go about it too late, and usually too late by about the same fatal interval. How can they retrieve the lost fragment, so essential to character and comfort? Perhaps by a device like this: suppose that on some auspicious morning they contrived to rise a quarter of an hour before their usual time, and were ready for their morning worship fifteen minutes sooner than they have been for the last ten years; or, what will equally answer the end, suppose that for once they merged their morning meal altogether, and went straight out to the engagements of the day; suppose that they arrived at the class-room, or the workshop, or the place of business, fifteen minutes before their natural time, or that they forced themselves to the appointed rendezvous on the week-day, or to the sanctuary on the Sabbath-day, a quarter of an hour before their instinctive time of going, all would yet be well. This system carried out would bring the world and themselves to synchronize; they and the marching hours would come to keep step again, and moving on in harmony, they would escape the fatigue and jolting awkwardness they used to feel, when old Father Time put the right foot foremost and they advanced the left; their reputation would be retrieved, and friends who at present fret would begin to smile; their fortunes would be made; their satisfaction in their work would be doubled; and their influence over others and their power for usefulness would be unspeakably augmented."

One half of the world does not know how the other half lives, and it has often struck us that loiterers in bed would be surprised were they to see the revelations of morning life. At dawn of morn, an indescribable freshness floats over creation which is discoverable at no other period of the day; and, redolent with the buoyancy of healthy repose, the step is firm and elastic, the eye clear, the mind unclouded, and the whole man generous and noble. In such a state, ordinary scenes would be enjoyed with high relish; but the "incense-breathing" of the infant day, like all other kinds of infant beauty, has a sweetness of its own.

"The eyelids of the morning are awake;

The dews are disappearing from the grass;
The sun is o'er the mountain; and the trees,
Moveless, are stretching through the blue of heaven,
Exuberantly green."

We may be mistaken, but we do not recollect reading in the Newgate Calendar or in the Criminal Recorder of any murder being committed in the morning, which is a consideration of some importance. But not to dwell on that or on the landscape beauty of vernal day, seeing that the one inquiry pertains to the statist and the other to the poet, we must say that there is a pleasantness in the bustle of morning life which has a peculiar charm. The labourers go sturdily to their work, and do not drag their limbs as at night. At the sea side, the din of departing and arriving steam-boats is exhilarating; and the waters seem instinct with life as they sparkle in crystal expanse, or as they are ploughed into green and white furrows by the sharp prows of the vessels which glide merrily on their surface. Newhaven fishwives, too, partake of the general elevation, and in the morning their snow-white caps contrast pleasantly with their blooming faces, as yet unrouged