And the deep hollow murmurs of winter that roll,

I've the moonshine to guide me, the frost to restrain,

As I journey through space, to reach heaven again.

I'm the Spirit of snow, and my compass is wide;

I can fall in the storm, in the wind I can ride; I am white, I am pure, I am tender, I'm fair, I was born in the seas, to the seas I repair; By frost I am harden'd, by wet I'm destroy'd, And, united with liquid, to Ocean decoy'd.

I have sisters of ether, have brothers of rime, And my friendships are formed in the northerly clime.

My foes are the elements jarring with strife; Air lets me pass on to my earth-bosomed wife; Fire covets and melts me; but water's so kind, That, when lost to the three, to the fourth I'm resign'd.

I have cousins of icicles, children of sleet; Some battle with hail, others vanquish in heat; I'm the Spirit of snow. By the will of the blast,

In the shallows and depths I am drifted at last;

And a glance of the sun, while I brighten in tears,

Dissolves my pretensions to reign in the spheres.

J. R. PRIOR.

Dr. Forster arranges the year into six principal seasons or divisions, to one of which may be referred almost all the wild, and most of the hardy herbaceous plants of our climate.

This arrangement into six, instead of four seasons, seems to correspond better with the actual course of phenomena.

The first, or Primaveral season, may be considered as beginning at Candlemas, on the first opening of the early spring flowers.

The second, or Vernal season, begins about old Ladytide.

The Solstitial season begins about St. Barnabas.

The Aestival season begins about St. Swithin's.

The Autumnal season begins about Michaelmas.

The singing of birds before the springing of flowers, and the bursting of buds, comes like the music of a sweet band before a procession of loveliness. In our youth we were delighted with the voices, and forms, and plumage of these little creatures. One of the first desires of a child is for a bird. To catch a songster is a school-boy's great achievement. To have one in a cage, to tend upon it, change its water, give it fresh seeds, hang chickweed and groundsel, and thrust sugar between the wires, chirp, and encourage it to sing, are a little girl's chief delight.

In this month the birds flock in, fast heralding the spring. Young readers will like to know about them, and at convenient times their curiosity shall be indulged.

THE ROBIN.

This beautiful and popular little birdthe red-breast-has a sweet melodious song, so free and shrill, that few can equal him.

abroad, he comes to the door, enters the In the winter, when food is scarce house with confidence, and, in hope of relief, becomes sociable and familiar. During the summer, when there is plenty abroad, and he is not pinched with cold, he often withdraws to solitary places, and loves to feed singly upon worms, ants and their eggs, and insects: yet many breed and nestle about farm-yards and out-houses, and pick crumbs thrown from the table, all the year round.

bud?

Farewell, sweet blossom! better fate be thine
And mock my boding! Dim similitudes
Weaving in moral strains, I've stolen one
hour

From anxious self, life's cruel tasktmaster!
And the warm wooings of this sunny day
Tremble along my frame, and harmonize

Domestic Gardener's Manual.

head; some say his legs are darker than the female's, and that he has a few gentlemanly hairs on each side of his bill. He is of a darker olive color upon the

Extracted from "The Poetical Works of S. T. Coleridge, including the dramas of Wallenstein, Remorse, and Zapolya," col. lected and elegantly printed in 3 vols, published by Pickering.

upper surface of his whole body, and the superior brightness of his red breast is a sure token.

The robin is about six inches long; the tail two and a half, and the bill a little more than half an inch.

Breeding time is about the end of April, or beginning of May. The female builds in a barn or out-house; sometimes in a bank or hedge; and likewise in the woods. Her nest is of coarse materials; the outside of dry green moss, intermixed with coarse wool, small sticks, straws, dried leaves, peelings from young trees, and other dried stuff; with a few horse-hairs withinside: its hollow is small, scarcely an inch in depth, and about three wide: the complete nest weighs about eleven drams. She usually lays five or six eggs; sometimes not more than four, but never fewer; they are of a cream color, sprinkled all over with fine reddish-yellow spots, which at the large end are so thick, that they appear almost all in one.

Hatching generally takes place about the beginning of May. Young ones for caging are taken at ten or twelve days old; if they are left longer, they are apt to mope. They should be kept warm in a little basket, with hay at the bottom, and fed with the wood-lark's meat, or as young nightingales are reared. Their meat should be minced very small, and given but little at a time. When they are grown strong enough for the cage, it should be like the nightingale's or woodlark's, but rather closer wired, and with moss at the bottom. In all respects they are to be kept and ordered like the nightingale. When old enough to feed themselves, they may be tried with the woodlark's meat, which some robins like better than the nightingale's.

The robin is very subject to cramp and giddiness; for cramp give them a mealworm now and then; for the giddiness six or seven earwigs in a week. They greedily eat many kinds of insects which probably might be effectually given to relieve sickness, could they be conveniently procured, such as young smooth caterpillars; but a robin will not touch a hairy one; also ants, and some sorts of spiders but no insect is more innocent, or agrees better with birds in general, than the meal-worm. The earwig is not, perhaps, so good. Yet the best way to prevent diseases in the robin is to keep him clean and warm, to let him always

have plenty of fresh water, wholesome food, and sometimes a little saffron or liquorice in his water, which will cheer him, make him long winded, and help; him in his song.

Old robins, when caught and confined in a cage, regret the loss of liberty, frequently will not sing, and die from confinement. A young robin usually sings in a few days. One reared from the nest may be taught to pipe and whistle finely, but his natural song is more delightful, and, while in his native freedom, most delightful.*

FEBRUARY.

The snow has left the cottage top;

The thatch-moss grows in brighter green; And eaves in quick succession drop,

Where grinning icicles have been ;
Pit-patting with a pleasant noise
In tubs set by the cottage door;
While ducks and geese, with happy joys,
Plunge in the yard-pond, brimming o'er.
The sun peeps through the window-pane;
Which children mark with laughing eye:
And in the wet street steal again,

To tell each other Spring is nigh:
Then, as young hope the past recals,
In playing groups they often draw,
To build beside the sunny walls

Their spring time huts of sticks or straw. And oft in pleasure's dreams they hie

Round homesteads by the village side, Scratching the hedgerow mosses by,

Where painted pooty shells abide; Mistaking oft the ivy spray

For leaves that come with budding Spring, And wond'ring, in their search for play,

Why birds delay to build and sing. The mavis thrush with wild delight,

Upon the orchard's dripping tree, Mutters, to see the day so bright,

Fragments of young Hope's pocsy : And oft Dame stops her buzzing wheel

To hear the robin's note once more, Who tootles while he pecks his meal From sweet-briar hips beside the door.

Clare's Shepherd's Calendar.

February 2.

CANDLEMAS DAY.

This day is so called, because in the papal church a mass was celebrated, and candles were consecrated, for the church processions.

To denote the custom and the day, a hand holding a torch was marked on the old Danish calendars.*

CANDLEMAS IN SCOTLAND.

[For the Year Book.]

At every school in the South of Scotland, the boys and girls look forward with as great anxiety for Candlemas Day as the children of merry England for their Christmas holidays. It is an entire day of relaxation, play, and festivity. On the evening preceding Candlemas Day, the school-master gives notice that tomorrow is their annual festival. The formal announcement is received 'with joy, and they hasten home to their fathers for their donations to the schoolmaster, called "Candlemas bleeze," that all may be ready on the morrow. On the morrow all is anxious bustle and conjecture. Who is to be king? Who is to be queen? It is the only day in the year in which they hurry to school with earger pleasure. The master receives the "Candlemas bleeze" from each pupil with condescending and familiar kindness. Some bring sixpence, some a shilling, and others more, according to the circumstances of their parents. With the "bleeze" the master purchases a few bottles of whiskey, which is converted into punch, and this, with a quantity of biscuits, is for the entertainment of his youthful guests. The surplus of cash, after defraying all expenses, he retains as a present to himself. This, therefore, being in lieu of a "Christmass box," may be termed a "Candlemas box." The boy that brings the most "bleeze" is crowned king; and, on the same ground, the girl with the largest portion of "bleeze" is crowned queen, as distinctions of the highest honor for the most liberal gifts. To those illustrious personages the other youths in the school pay homage for the remainder of the fes

tival.

The king and queen are installed by each being introduced to the other by the

Fosbroke's British Monachism, 60.

66

schoolmaster; and they acknowledge the honor with a fond salute: both then receive a glass of puuch, and pledge their worthy master. They next drink long life and happy days to their loyal subjects," and are afterwards placed on an elevated seat, previously prepared, and called the throne. After the enthronement, the schoolmaster gives each scholar a glass of punch and a biscuit, and they all drink "long life, and a prosperous and happy reign to their most gracious sovereigns," at the same time making obeisance with their best bows. As long as the whiskey holds out, these testimonials of loyalty and attachment are repeated. The young ones get full of mirth and glee, and, after receiving their master's thanks for their kindness, they are finally dismissed with merry hearts, to relate their adventures at home.

It is a custom with many old country people in Scotland to prognosticate the weather of the coming season according to this master prognostication:

If Can'lemas is fair and clear,
There'll be twa winters in the year.

On the truth of this distich they nave no doubt. Should Candlemas day pass over without a shower of rain, or a fall of snow, their spirits droop: they conclude upon severe weather before spring is over, and they reckon upon heavy snow storms before the following Christmas; if such is the case, ruin is inevitable! On the contrary, if Candlemas day is showery and tempestuous, they anticipate a fine summer, genial suns in autumn, and plenty of refreshment for man and beast. I have seen a farmer of the "Old School," rubbing his hands with glee during the dismal battling of the elements without, while the wind entered within through the crevices of the doors and casements of the latticed window, while his little children at the loud blasts that roared round the roof, ran for protection between the knees of their father, or hid their face in the lap of their mother. When the young ones were put to bed, the two old folks would set on the side of the Ingle Neuk, talking "o' th' days o' langsine," when they were bairns themselves, and confirming each other's belief in the old prognostication. Any one acquainted with the habits of the Scotch shepherds and peasantry will authenticate these facts as to Candlemas day.

T. B.