appears at the corner of the grate like a quivering spangle; sometimes it swells out at top into a restless and brief lambency; anon it is seen only by a light beneath the grate, or it curls around one of the bars like a tongue, or darts out with a spiral thinness and a sulphureous and continued puffing as from a reed. The glowing coals meantime exhibit the shifting forms of hills, and vales, and gulfs,-of fiery Alps, whose heat is uninhabitable even by spirit; or of black precipices, from which swart fairies seem about to spring away on sable wings;-then heat and fire are forgotten, and walled towns appear, and figures of unknown animals, and far-distant countries, scarcely to be reached by human journey; -then coaches, and camels, and barking dogs as large as either, and forms that combine every shape and suggest every fancy;-till at last, the ragged coals tumbling together, reduce the vision to chaos, and the huge profile of a gaunt and grinning face seems to make a jest of all that has passed.

The entrance of a single candle dissipates these scenes of fancy in an instant, and the dreamer is summoned to his tea.

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round;
And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups,
That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each,
So let us welcome peaceful evening in.

'Ever since tea has been known, its clear and gentle powers of inspiration have been acknowledged, from Waller paying his court at the circle of Catharine of Braganza, to Dr. Johnson receiving homage at the parties of Mrs. Thrale. The former, in his lines upon hearing it commended by her Majesty,' ranks it at once above myrtle and laurel, and her Majesty, of course, agreed with him:

Venus her myrtle, Phoebus has his bays;

Tea both excels, which she vouchsafes to praise,

The best of queens, and best of herbs, we owe
To that bold nation, which the way did show
To the fair region, where the sun does rise,
Whose rich productions we so justly prize.
The Muse's friend, Tea, does our fancy aid,
Repress those vapours which the head invade,
And keeps that palace of the soul serene,
Fit, on her birth-day, to salute the Queen.

"They who prefer coffee will be pleased to see that their favourite beverage has not been left unnoticed by the poets:

For, lo! the board with cups and spoons are crowned,
The berries crackle, and the mill turns round:
On shining altars of japan they raise

The silver lamp; the fiery spirits blaze;
From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide,
And China's earth receives the smoking tide:
At once they gratify the scent and taste,
And frequent cups prolong the rich repast.
Straight hover round the fair her airy band;
Some, as she sipped, the fuming liquor fanned;
Some o'er her lap their careful plumes displayed,
Trembling, and conscious of the rich brocade.

'It must be acknowledged, however, that the general association of ideas is at present in favour of tea, which on that account has the advantage of suggesting no confinement to particular ranks or modes of life. Let there be but a fire-side, and any body, of any denomination, may be fancied enjoying the luxury of a cup of tea, from the duchess in the evening drawing-room, who makes it the instrument of displaying her white hand, to the washer-woman at her early tub, who, having had nothing to signify since five, sits down to it with her shining arms and corrugated fingers at six. If there be any one station of life in which it is enjoyed to most advantage, it is that of mediocrity, that in which all comfort is reckoned to be best appreciated, because, while there is taste to enjoy, there is necessity to earn the enjoyment'.' Having taken our refreshment of tea or

See an ingenious paper in the 'Reflector,' entitled, a Day by the Fire,' vol. ii, p. 400,

coffee, or both, we will proceed to enumerate the various appearances of nature in this month of December.

Rain and wind are now extremely prevalent; and, as the frost seldom sets in till the latter end of the month, December may be reckoned the most unpleasant of the whole year. At other times, however, November is better entitled to this appellation, and ice and snow contribute to give to Christmas that union of frost and good cheer which form the usual character of this season.

From the fall of the leaf, and withering of the herb, an unvarying death-like torpor oppresses almost the whole vegetable creation, and a considerable part of the animal, during this entire portion of the year. The whole race of insects, which filled every part of the summer landscape with life and motion, are now either buried in profound sleep, or actually no longer exist, except in the unformed rudiments of a future progeny. Many of the birds and quadrupeds are retired to concealments, from which not even the calls of hunger can force them; and the rest, intent only on the preservation of a joyless life, have ceased to exert those powers of pleasing, which, at other seasons, so much contribute to their mutual happiness, as well as to the amusement of their human sovereign. Their social connections, however, are improved by their wants. In order the better to secure their scanty subsistence, and resist the inclemencies of the sky, they are taught by instinct to assemble in flocks, and this provision has the secondary effect of gratifying the spectator with something of novelty and action, even in the dreariness of a wintery prospect.

This reads a moral lesson of no small import to their natural protector, but too often avowed enemy and destroyer, MAN. But his cruelties are not confined to the feathered creation; they are frequently manifested to his own species: at this inclement season, too, such conduct is doubly criminal. Let him

E e

relieve the poor, than create poverty by unjust oppression. How can they who experience all the blessings of competence better express their gratitude to the Great Giver of all good, than by extending their aid to the forlorn cottager, and offering him supplies of firing, clothing, and bedding? In this case, the rich may often be taught a lesson of benevolence by their inferiors. As an instance, we give the following pretty lines by ROBERt Bloomfield :—

Dear boy, throw that icicle down,

And sweep this deep snow from the door :
Old WINTER comes on with a frown;
A terrible frown for the poor.
In a season so rude and forlorn,

How can age, how can infancy, bear
The silent neglect and the scorn
Of those who have plenty to spare?
Fresh broached is my cask of old ale,
Well timed now the frost is set in;
Here's Job come to tell us a tale,

We'll make him at home to a pin.
While my wife and I bask o'er the fire,
The roll of the seasons will prove,
That time may diminish desire,

But cannot extinguish true love.
O the pleasures of neighbourly chat,
If you can but keep scandal away,
To learn what the world has been at,
And what the great orators say!
Though the wind through the crevices sing,
And hail down the chimney rebound,
I'm happier than many a king,

While the bellows blow bass to the sound.

Abundance was never my lot:

But out of the trifle that's given,
That no curse may alight on my cot,
I'll distribute the bounty of Heaven.
The fool and the slave gather wealth;
But if I add naught to my store,
Yet while I keep conscience in health,

I've a mine that will never grow poor.

The flowers mentioned as continuing in blow in January, of course afford their beauties in this

month. Evergreens, firs, ivy, laurel, and that most beautiful plant the arbutus, rich in flowers and fruit at the same time, serve to enliven this dreary month.

The oak, the beech, and the hornbeam, in part, retain their leaves, and the ash its keys. The common holly (ilex aquifolium), with its scarlet berries, is now conspicuous; and those dwarfs of the vegetable creation, mosses, and the liverwort (lichen), now attract our notice. See T.T. for 1817, p. 358. The redbreast is still heard to chaunt his cheerful strain,' and the sparrow chirps.-See our last volume, p. 319.

Towards the end of the month, woodcock shooting

commences.

Of the snipe (scolopax gallinago), which becomes a prey to the fowler in this and the following month, there are more than forty varieties, mostly breeding in Europe, and subsisting on insects. Some of these wild-fowl frequent moors, others delight in swampy bushes, and others in the open fields. See T.T. for 1816, p. 351.

In this month, those wild animals which pass the winter in a state of torpidity, retire to their hiding places. The frog, lizard, badger, and hedgehog, which burrow under the earth, belong to this class.

The bat is now found in caverns, barns, &c. suspended by the claws of its hind feet, and closely enveloped in the membranes of the fore feet. Dormice, squirrels, water-rats, and field-mice, provide a large stock of food for the winter season.

On every sunny day through the winter, clouds of insects, usually called gnats (tipulæ & empedes), appear sporting and dancing over the tops of evergreen trees in shrubberies; and they are seen playing up and down in the air, even when the ground is covered with snow. At night, and in frosty weather, or when it rains and blows, they appear to take shelter in the trees.

The farmer is happy to avail himself of a hard frost,