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outlay. It is headed, "8107 marriages suit us nicely;" and others wanted to take last year," and proceeds thus:"instant possession" of our royal person. Vain was it for us,-then a blooming youth, to remonstrate. It would not do. Every one of these besetting, besieging housekeepers,tried to vanquish us by saying she was "just the thing"; and we barely escaped with the skin of our teeth. At last, out of revenge we selected, as a safeguard, one of the ugliest and silliest; and then made a sortie, we remember, by a side door, whilst the fair would-be invaders of our domestic felicity trooped off most reluctantly one by one. The day following they again dropped in, by couplets and triplets, to see as they said "which way the wind lay." But we were firm, a martyr to our principles.

"Matrimony made easy, or how to win a lover.-Madame M- London, continues to send free to any address, on receipt of thirteen postage stamps (uncut), plain directions to enable Ladies or Gentlemen to win the devoted affections of as many of the opposite sex as their hearts may desire. The process is simple-so captivating and enthralling, that all may be married, irrespective of age, appearance, or position; while the most fickle, or cold-hearted, may readily bow to its attractions. Young and old, peer and peeress, as well as the peasant, are alike subject to its influence; and last, though not least, it can be arranged with such ease and delicacy that exposure is impossible,-Beware of ignorant pretenders."

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The winning of a lover, it will be seen, herein described as simple, captivating, and enthralling. All may be married, irrespective of age, or appearance, whilst the fickle and cold-hearted may be rendered constant and ardent as fire. Then, "ease" and " delicacy" are called in; and "exposure" rendered "impossible." This is rich,-and only exceeded by the last concluding sentence, cautioning the public against herself.-Beware of" ignorant pretenders!"

It is worthy of note, that the greater the impudence put forward in advertisements, the greater the success in procuring dupes. Is not the subjoined, cut out of the paper only a day or two since, rich and rare? Oh! thou most gullible John Bull !

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"Bashfulness.-Those persons who are troubled with bashfulness, timidity, disinclination to enter room full of company," inability to speak freely when in company, &c., should at once write to Mr. J. Parkinson, who will forward them his advice on the means to be employed for obtaining confidence, the power of conversing and mingling freely in society without being annoyed by any disagreeable feeling of restraint; in short, the comfortable assurance of easy gentility. Direct (enclosing two dozen postage-stamps and a directed envelope) to Mr. J. Parkinson, care of the Post Office, &c., &c."

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We had taken a servant who was an advertisement-hunter. Of course therefore we were robbed. We had been told it would be so; but we thought we knew woman-kind better, Our and so we paid for our experience. four months; our brown brandy became wardrobe diminished one half at least, in

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pale," by coming into too close contact with water; the Geneva turned out "water bewitched;" and the rum was, as our bachelor-friends expressed it,-" Rum indeed!" A double set of keys too, placed all our secrets at the mercy of Madame; and we found ourselves fairly obliged to give her notice to quit. This over-polite woman was always an eye-sore to us. We had taken her in a pet,-we kept her as a matter of philosophical necessity. When she was gone, we shouted for joy; and vowed soon to commit Matrimony as a panacea for all such evils. We kept our vow.

We again repeat,-shun all wants and wishes made known through tricky advertisements. They are webs-woven by the few for the destruction of the many.

WINTER, FROST.

It is winter-veritable winter-with bona fide frost, and cramping cold, and a sun as The "two dozen postage stamps" is clear and powerless as moonlight. The winnothing, in comparison with "the comfort-dows glitter with the most fantastic frost-work. able assurance of easy gentility." Whether Cities, with their spires and turrets, ranks of the latter be forthcoming or not, is beside spears, files of horsemen-every gorgeous and the question. The "two dozen stamps," brilliant array told of in romance or song, value 2s., will never be refunded! start out of that mass of silvery tracery, like the processions of a magic mirror. What a miraculous beauty there is in frost! What fine work in its radiant crystals! What mystery in its exact proportions and its maniform varieties! The feathery snow-flake, the delicate rime, the transparent and sheeted ice, the magnificent iceberg moving down the sea like a mountain of light-how beautiful are they all, and how wonderful is it, that, break and scatter them as you will, you will find under every form the same faultless angles,

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There are two sides to every question. WE remember once advertising for "a housekeeper." Being young and inexperienced, we perhaps worded our want" rather loosely; at all events, no sooner had the advertisement appeared, than we were besieged on every hand by the hunters-up of advertisements. We were looked upon as fair game by old and young, ugly and pretty. Some smirked at us, some winked at us; some said, "they knew they should

the same crystalline and sparkling radiation. It sometimes grows suddenly cold at noon. There has been a heavy mist all the morning, and, as the north wind comes sharply in, the air clears and leaves it frozen upon everything, with the thinness of palpable air. The trees are clothed with a fine white vapor, as if a cloud had been arrested and fixed motionless in the branches. They look, in the twilight like gigantic spirits, standing in broad ranks and clothed in drapery of supernatural whiteness and texture. On close examination, the crystals are as fine as needles, and standing in perfect parallelism, pointing in the direction of the wind. They are like fringes of the most minute threads, edging every twig and filament of the tree, so that the branches are

thickened by them, and have a shadowy and mysterious look, as if a spirit-foliage had started out from the naked limbs. It is not so brilliant as the common rime seen upon the trees after a frozen rain, but it is infinitely more delicate and spiritual, and to us seems a phenomenon of exquisite beauty.

FOR EVER THINE.
LINES ADDRESSED TO

DEAREST, I'M THINE, whate'er this heart betide,
For ever thine, where'er our lot be cast;
Fate, that may rob us of all wealth beside,
Shall leave us LOVE, till death itself be past.
The world may wrong us, we will brave its hate;
False friends may change, and false hopes decline;
Tho' bowed by cankering cares we'll smile at fate,
Since thou art mine, belov'd, and I am thine!
For ever thine,-when circling years have spread
Time's snowy blossoms o'er thy placid brow;
When youth's rich glow, its purple light is fled,
And lilies bloom where roses flourish now.
Say, shall I love thy fading beauty less,
When spring-tide radiance has been wholly mine?
Let come what will, thy steadfast truth I'll bless,
In youth, in age,-thine own, for ever thine!
For ever thine-at evening's dewy hour,
When gentle hearts to tend'rest thoughts incline;
When balmiest odors from each closing flower
Are breathing round, I'm thine, for ever thine.
For ever thine, 'mid fashion's heartless throng,
In courtly bowers, at folly's gilded shrine;
Smiles on my cheek, light words upon my tongue,
My deep heart still is thine, for ever thine.
For ever thine, amid the boisterous crowd,
Where the jest sparkles with the sparkling wine;
I may not breathe thy gentle name aloud,
But drink to thee in thought,-for ever thine!
I would not, sweet, profane that silvery sound,—
The depth of love could such rude heart divine,
Let the loud laughter peal, the toast go round;
But still my thoughts are thine,-for ever thine.
For ever thine, whate'er this heart betide,
For EVER thine, where'er our lot be cast;
Fate that may rob us of all wealth beside,
Shall leave us LOVE, till life itself be past!

Q.

THE MONTH IN PROSPECT.

FEBRUARY.

Hold! hold! what would these endless clouds be at!
These five days it has been but pour-pour-pour;
Methinks 'twill float again the ark of Noah
From its old station on Mount Ararat.
Oh! 'tis a pleasant time for cloak and hat;
And for umbrellas, laid in dozens by,
That, as one drops, another may be dry:
For cork-soled shoes, stilts, oilcase, and all that.
Out, cat! why turn thy back upon the fire?

We've rain enough, I say!-We'll try again
This weather glass;-sweet finger, pray mount higher!
Down!-down it goes!-oh mercy!-yet more rain?
Shall the world drown? no dry spot left upon it,
And fishes swim where I now pen this sonnet?
FEBRUARY IS, WITHOUT DOUBT, the most
cheerless month of the
There may
be
The latter end

year.

pleasant varieties of it. may, and frequently is, much more agreewhole, it is at once cold, damp, and foggy. able than the commencement; but, as a Besides the earth being saturated with a whole winter's moisture, there is, generally, abundance of rain during this month; so much so, that it has acquired the cognomen of February-fill-dike.'

The frosts and snows which have been locking up, and burying the earth for weeks and months, are giving way; and what is so cheerless and chilling as a great thaw? There is a lack of comfort felt every where. In real winter-weather, when the clear frosty air sharply saluted the face by day, and revealed to the eye at night, a scene of sublime splendor in the lofty and intensely blue sky, glittering with congregated stars, or irradiated by the moon,-there was a sense of vigor, of elasticity, and of freshness, which made it welcome; but now, most commonly, by day and night, the sky is hidden in impenetrable vaporthe earth is sodden and splashy with wet;

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and even the very fireside does not escape the comfortless sense of humidity.

Everything presents to the eye, accustomed so long to the brightness of clear frosts and the pure whiteness of snow, a dingy and soiled aspect. All things are dripping with wet. It hangs upon the walls like a heavy dew; it penetrates into the drawers and wardrobes of our warmest chambers; and we are surprised at the unusual dampness of our clothes, linen, books, paper, and, in short, almost everything which we have occasion to examine. Brick and stone floors are now dangerous things for delicate and thinly-shod people to stand upon. To this source, and, in fact, to the damps of this month, operating in various ways, may be attributed not a few of the colds, coughs, and consumptions so prevalent in England. Pavements are frequently so much elevated by the expansion of the moisture beneath, as to obstruct the opening and shutting of doors

and gates, and our gravel-walks resemble Sleet, shine, cold, fog, in portions fill the time;

saturated sponges.

Abroad, the streets are flooded with muddy water, and slippery with patches of ice and half-melted snow, which strikes through our shoes in a moment. The houses, and all objects whatever, have a dirty and disconsolate aspect; and clouds of dun and smoky haze hover over the whole disspiriting scene. In the country, the pros pect is not much better. The roads are full of mire. Instead of the enchantments

of hoar-frost, so beautifully described by

the poet,

Artist unseen! that dipt in frozen dew

Hast on the glittering glass thy pencil laid, Ere from yon sun the transient visions fade, Swift let me trace the forms thy fancy drew! Thy towers and palaces of diamond hue,

Rivers and lakes of lucid crystal made, And hung in air hoar trees of branching shade, That liquid pearl distil:-thy scenes renew, Whate'er old bards or later fictions feign,

Of secret grottoes underneath the wave, Where Nereids roof with spar the amber cave; Or bowers of bliss, where sport the fairy train, Who, frequent by the moonlight wanderer seen, Circle with radiant gems the dewy green.

Instead of these we say, we have naked hedges, with sallow and decaying weeds beneath them; pastures brown and wet; and sheets of ice which recently afforded such fine exercise to skaters and sliders, are half submersed in water,--full of great cracks, and scattered with straws, and dirty patches, and stones half liberated by the thaw. Let us felicitate ourselves, however, that such a joyless time is seldom of long continuance. The winds of March will speedily come piping their jovial strains; clearing the face of the blessed Heavens from their sullen veil of clouds, and sweeping away the superabundant moisture from earth and air.

The banks are partly green; hedges and trees
Are black and shrouded, and the keen wind

roars,

Like dismal music wand'ring over seas,
And wailing to the agitated shores.

The fields are dotted with manure-the sheep
In unshorn wool, streaked with the shepherd's
red,

Their undivided peace and friendship keep,
Shaking their bells, like children to their bed.
The roads are white and miry-waters run
With violence through their tracks-and sheds,

that flowers

In summer graced, are open to the sun;
Which shines in noonday's horizontal hours.

Frost claims the night; Morning, like a bride,
Forth from her chamber glides; Mist spreads

her vest;

The sunbeams ride the clouds till eventide; And the wind rolls them to ethereal rest.

Like hope, the prospect cheers; like breath it
fades:

Life grows in seasons to returning prime;
And beauty rises from departing shades.

March! It is like a cool, but spirit-stirring
Oh! blithe and animating is the breath of
but not enervating the heart, deadening the
draught of some ancient vintage; elating,
memory of past evil, and expanding the
mind with the delicious hope of future de-
lights. Such a precious boon, however, is
not exclusively permitted to March. Feb-
ruary is often allowed to be a liberal par-
taker ere its close; and we have known the
winds lift
up their voices, in this month, with
all their triumphant and sonorous energy.
Nothing, perhaps, can illustrate so vividly
our idea of spirit as a mighty wind,-present
in its amazing power and sublimity, yet seen
only in its effects. We are whirled along by
its careering torrent with irresistible power;
we are driven before it, as Miss Mitford says,
as by a steam engine. How it comes rush-
ing and roaring over the house, like the
devouring billows of an ocean broke loose!
Then for the banging of doors-the swinging
and creaking of signs-the clatter of falling
shutters in the street! Then for the crash
of chimnies-the toppling down of crazy
gables-the showering of tiles upon the pave-
ment, as if the bomb-shells of a besieging
army were demolishing the roofs, and render-
ing it death even to walk the streets. Then
for a scene of awful grandeur upon the shores
of the glorious ocean. That which but an
hour before was calm and sun-bright, a
variety of vessels lying at anchor, or sailing
to and fro in serene beauty, then is become
a scene of sublime and chaotic uproar; the
waves rolling, and foaming, and dashing their
spray over rocks, pier-heads, houses, and
even over the loftiest towers and churches too
-as we have seen it,-to an amazing extent,
and the windows, at a great distance from the
till the water ran down the walls like rain,
beach, were covered with a salt incrustation
-the vessels meanwhile laboring amidst the
riotous billows as for life, and tugging at
their cables as if mad for their escape.

Many a beautiful, many a wild, many an animated spectacle is to be witnessed on the shores of our happy isle in such moments! What a solemn and sublime war, also, is there in the woods-a sound as of vast and tempestuous seas! What poetical spirit can hear it without being influenced by incommunicable sensations; and ideas of power, majesty, and the stupendous energies of the elements !

Oh! storm and darkness; ye are wondrous strong.

What picturesque ruin is there scattered around us! Trees overwhelmed-immense

branches torn off-small boughs broken-and dry leaves whirled along, or quivering in the air like birds.

Not unfamiliar to mine ear,
Blasts of the night! ye howl, as now
My shuddering casement loud
With fitful force ye beat.

Mine ear has dwelt in silent awe,-
The howling sweep, the sudden rush;
And when the pausing gale
Poured deep the hollow dirge.

Once more I listen; sadly communing
Within me, once more mark, storm-clothed,
The moon, as the dark cloud
Glides rapidly away.

I, deeming that the voice of spirits dwells
In these mysterious moans, in solemn thought
Muse on the choral dance,
The dead man's jubilee.

Hark! how the spirit knocks,-how loud
Even at my window knocks,-again ;—
I cannot dare not sleep,-
It is a boisterous night.

I would not, at this moment, be
In the drear forest groves, to hear
This uproar and rude song
Ring o'er the arched aisles.

The ear doth shudder at such sounds;
As the unbodied winds, in their disport,
Wake in the hollow woods,
When man is gone to sleep.

Towards the end of the month, we are
gladdened with symptoms of approaching
spring. On warm banks, the commencement
of vegetation is perceptible. The
stirring in the trees, swelling and feeding the
sap is
buds; and, in gardens, a variety of green
things are peeping from the earth, and snow-
drops, hepaticas, &c., are actually in bloom.
In towns, it is a cheering sight, even while
all without is wintry and frosty, to see as we
pass, in cottage windows, tufts of crocuses
and snowdrops flowering in pots :-
The snowdrop, rising to its infant height,
Looks like a sickly child upon the spot
Of young nativity, regarding not
The air's caress of melody and light
Beamed from the east, and softened by the bright
Effusive flash of gold-the willow stoops
And muses, like a bride without her love,

On her own shade, which lies on waves, and
droops

Beside the natal trunk, nor looks above :-
The precipice, that torrents cannot move,

Leans o'er the sea, and steadfast as a rock,
Of dash and cloud unconscious, bears the rude

Continuous surge, the sounds and echoes mock: Thus Mental Thought enduring, wears in solitude. Also; to see in those of wealthier dwellings, hyacinths, narcissus, &c., in glasses displaying their bulbs, and long, white, fibrous roots,

in the clear water below, and the verdure and flowery freshness of summer above. If we are to believe travellers, in no country is the domestic culture of flowers so much attended to as in our own. We trust this will always be a prevailing taste with us. There is something pure and refreshing in the appearance of plants in a room; and watched and waited on, as they generally are, by the gentle sex, they are links in many pleasant associations. They are the cherished favorites of our mothers, wives, sisters, and friends not less dear; and connect themselves, in our minds, with their feminine delicacy, loveliness, and affectionate habits and senti

ments.

Sweet lady fair :

With tender vine-leaves wreathe thy brow;
And I shall fancy that I see,
In the bright eye that laughs below;
The dark grape on its parent tree.

"Tis but a whim-but, oh! entwine
Thy brow with this green wreath of mine!

Weave of the clover-leaves a wreath;

Fresh sparkling with a summer-shower,
And I shall, in my fair one's breath,
Find the soft fragrance of the flower.

'Tis but a whim-but, oh! do thou
"Twine the dark leaves around thy brow!

Oh, let sweet-leaved geranium be
Entwined amidst thy clustering hair,
Whilst thy red lips shall paint to me
How bright its scarlet blossoms are.

"Tis but a whim-but, oh! do thou
Crown with my wreath thy blushing brow!
Oh, twine young rose-leaves round thy head,
The red rose on thy rich cheek spread,
And I shall deem the flowers are there;—
The white upon thy forehead fair.

"Tis but a whim-but, oh! entwine
MY WREATH ROUND THAT DEAR BROW OF
THINE!

REMEMBRANCE.

Though the spring of our youth has departed,
And withered its earliest bloom;
Though earth's tenants still, broken-hearted
We close o'er our kindred the tomb;
There's a solace that never can perish,

Faint record of long-faded joy,

While fondly remembrance we cherish
Of pleasure no anguish can cloy.

When the heart with kind feelings o'erflowing,
To life's coming troubles is kind;
When time and regard, without knowing,
Have fostered young love in the mind;
Oh! 'tis sweet when adversity lours,

And youth's merry sunshine is past,
In mem'ry to dwell on those hours,
Ere sorrow our gladness o'ercast!

MOTLEY.

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INGULAR INDEED IS A MAN'S DESTINY! Here to-day, he is, literally speaking, gone to-morrow; leaving behind him, perhaps, from positive necessity, much, if not all, that his heart holds dear. This country bids fair to be decimated within another year. Let us hope that a rapid transit of letters, to and from, will cause many "twin hearts" to be saved from destruction. Absence from "a lov'd one" is-" death."

rate.

"The seasons in Australia are the reverse of ours, July is mid-winter, January mid-summer. The spring and autumn are very brief, and the transition from one season to the other is so imperceptible, that it is difficult to say when the one begins or

lion curtain-clouds of morn, illumines the mountains with molten gold, dispensing life and light around, as he majestically mounts into the northern heavens.

At the decline of day the scene is magnificent! Onward the mighty orb rolls, like a ball of molten iron, to the legion of gorgeous clouds that have risen in the far-west to herald it away; the hills blaze up with crimson and gold, fringed with sparkling silver, the tints of heaven's own iris are scattered over the sky, and the extended plains to the very horizon are tinged with pink. Even the cities and dwelling-places are colored with the rich, changing hues; and from their windows are seen streams of liquid fire. Day and night are of nearly equal length throughout the year. The sun never remains above the horizon more than fourteen and a half hours, nor less than ten and a half; and, as twilight does not linger in these latitudes, the changes from day to night, and from night to morn, are to an Englishman unpleasantly abrupt. greater number of the nights are most enchanting. The southern constellations shine forth from the hard, dark heavens, in unrivalled brightness, and the haloed moon pours her chastened radiance on the plains and hills with such refulgence, that every thing for miles around is distinctly visible.

The

So very many of our acquaintances are daily departing to Australia, that we begin now to feel some peculiar interest for the country. Let us, The light of both the sun and the moon is more therefore, hear what Mr. Lancelott says of the climate. As he is mineralogical surveyor for the intense than in Britain. I should say the differcolonies, the authority may be considered first-ence is as five to three. The climate throughout the Australian province is decidedly hot. The thermometer in Sydney and Melbourne during summer, frequently reaches 90° or 100° Fahr. in the shade; and occasionally 115° or even more. In winter it rarely ranges below 46° Fahr.; hoar frost sometimes occurs; ice, seldom or never. The variations in temperature are great and sudden; noonday is frequently 20° hotter than morning or evening, while the heat of one day often differs from that of the next day by 15°. Then, as the southerly winds are altogether more moist than those of the northward, a change of wind without any alteration in the thermometer often chills severely; indeed, the climate is much affected by the direction of the winds. from the northward, is extremely dry and often violent.

the other ends.

mer commences.

Spring sets in early in September, when the atmosphere acquires a delightful warmth; as the season advances, the fall of rain decreases, the heat increases, and about the middle of November, sumThe heat now becomes great; and by the end of December, nearly all the rivers are dried up, vegetation has ceased, and the country assumes the appearance of an arid desert. At the close of February, a diminution of temperature commences; autumn beginning about the middle of March, and early in April genial showers carpet the country with bright verdure, and the atmosphere becomes pleasantly cool and buoyant. Early in June, the season that can only be called winter from its situation in the calendar, commences; and by the middle of July, torrents of rain have inundated the country, and rendered the water-courses mighty, rushing streams; this cold rainy season generally terminates by the middle or end of August. Between the rains at this season of the year, there are days, and, in some years, whole weeks together, of delightful weather; cool and bracing as the spring in England, but more beautiful and exhilirating.

With the exception of about twenty-five extremely hot days, and sixty disagreeable wet or cold days, the weather throughout the year is indescribably pleasant, the air is balmy and bright, scarcely a cloud is visible, and the sun looks down from the deep blue sky in unveiled splendor. The rising sun is a sight most truly beautiful. The god of day from his eastern portals bursts the ebon pall of night, and flinging wide the purple and vermil

VOL. III.-2.

That which blows

In winter it is moderately warm, in summer it is intensely hot, and rushes on with the velocity of a hurricane; raising the thermometer in the shade to 110° or even 120° Fahr., drying up the grass like hay, depriving the grape of its watery elements, rendering iron exposed to its influence so hot as to burn the hand on touching it, doing injury to the promising harvest, and filling the air with such quantities of dust and sand, that the sun's rays are shut, and only darkness is visible. The current of heated air appears confined to no particular altitude, but rushes upwards or downwards, according to circumstances; sometimes it assumes a rotary movement, as if revolving on a series of horizontal axes, thus: ; or undulates thus: Occasionally the hot wind travels so slowly, that its movement is scarcely perceptible; there is then little dust, the heat of the sun's rays is great, and the earth is so torrid, that a thermometer which I sunk horizontally into the ground to the depth of 24 inches, in a situation exposed to the sun and wind, stood at 150° Fahr. On another

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