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take a sheet of paper (an old newspaper will do) an'I wet it thoroughly; shako the drops off it, and then, filling the mouth of jour fish with salt, wrap him up in it just as lie is, uncleoned, 'simplex tutmunditiig,' and digging a grave for him in your ash-heap, put him bodily into it, covering him well up afterwards with hot ashes. When you think he ought to be done, allowing from ten minutes to a quarter of an hour according to his size, partially uncover him and tear off a small piece of his winding-sheet. If his ekin comes off with it ho is sufficiently done, and out with him. Should, however, the paper come off minus the skin, cover him up again, and give him a little more law, until this test shows him to bo perfectly done. On being turned out of his envelope, the whole of his skin should adhere to it. As for his inside, you may 'disregard it altogether, or opening him, turn it out, whicli you will find there is not the slightest difficulty in doing en masse. Pepper and salt him, if you have such condiments by you, and you will only be sorry that your own kitchen docs not afford you the means of dressing your fish thus at home."
But why should it not? The ashes of a turf fire might be used for the purpose, and a cheap artificial turf, which would serve for it very well, is hawked about the streets of London for the use of laundresses.
"Wo have heard of strange modes of dressing food in use amongst uncivilized tribes, but I doubt whether any ' traveller's talcs' have ventured on the description of ono more eccentric
than the following mode of preparing Skate for the table, the ingenuity of which is only surpassed by its exceeding Hastiness, and which I ivns not a littio taken aback at finding adopted in a comer of onr own enlightened kingdom. The fish, when cleaned (asomewhat unnecessary preliminary ono would think), is buried in wet horse-<luni), where it is allowed to soak for about twenty-four hours. It is then taken out (washed, we hope), and boiled for the table, when it is presented as ' Sour Skate '—' a varra dclcccioas dish,' according to my informant, who evidently spoke of it with considerable gusto. If, ns has been asserted, the progress of the gastronomic art affords a fair test by which to estimate tho march of civilization, what conclusion might not be drawn from this little circumstance with regard to our friends of the Hebrides?
"If some of the Scotch have strange fancies in the matter of diet, their cattle it would seem, occasionally take after them in this respect. I was one day fishing the Ness out of n boat, when I noticed a cow inquisitively examining some things which I had left by the water-side. On landing I found she had been influenced by other motives than those of mere curiosity, having eaten up tho whole of ono side (tho button half) of a new mackintosh. Happening shortly afterwards to meet tho miller whose property sho was, I exhibited to him the mangled evidence of her misdeeds, expecting at least to meet with something like sympathy for my loss. His sympathies were however all on the other side. He surveyed it for sometime in silence and with an air of dejection, and then simply exclaimed, 'Eh, but she'll no be the better o' the buttons.'"
A Celtic Dictionary.—The importance of tho Celtic language, *nd the position which it holds in comparative philology, are now fully recognized by continental scholars, who naturally look to Ireland for tho assistance, not to be obtained elsewhere, necessary for tho prosecution of such studies. The great want is a dictionary, comprehending the existing remains of tho language, and brought out in a creditable and scholarliko manner. To effect this object the committee appointed by the councils of the Irish Archaeological and Celtic Societies are taking active steps, by appealing to the public for support, to carry this laudable undertaking into effect. This support we are confident they will have, not only from those interested in literature, but from tho millions of the United Kingdom who claim n Celtic origin. Contributions will be received and acknowledged by Ed
ward Clibborn, Esq., Royal Irish Academy, 19 Dawson Street, Dublin, to whom post-office orders may be made payable, and a list of subscribers will be published as soon as possible after the 1st of July.
The Horticulturist opens with an essay on Flat Culture, by tho editor. By flat culture is meant the method which, in tho cultivation of Indian corn, potatoes, beans, etc., keeps the ground between the different clusters of plants perfectly level, instead of forming it into hillocks. Mr. Mead professes to have fully tried both tho flat culture and tho hilling system, and gives his decided approval to the former. Its advantages are that it requires less labor, admits of a more thorough cultivation of tho soil, lessens the evil of drought, admits of the use of the most improved agricultural implements, and presupposes a thorough preparation of tho soil.
No. 846.—18 August, 1860.
1. Concerning the Worries of Life, and how to
meet them Fraser's Magazine, 387
2. Theodore Parker and the Oxford Essayists, . Christian Observer, 401
3. Arrest of the Five Members, . . . Saturday Review, 413
4. French Fishing in North America, . . . Constitutional Press Magazine, 417
5. Life of Edmond Malone, .... Athenaeum, 420
6. Correspondence of Humboldt, .... Edinburgh Review, 426
7. The Prince of Wales' Visit to Canada, . . Saturday Review, 438
8. The Royal Visit to Canada and Washington, . Spectator, 439
9. Temptation of Germany, .... Examiner, 441
10. Morality of Rapine, Saturday Review, 444
11. Russia, ii « 445
12. New York Painters, N. T. Evening Post, 448
Poetry.—Saint Brandan, 386. Glory in the Grasp of France, 386.
Short Articles.—Coloring Adulterated Wines, 400. Deadening Walls and Ceilings, 400. Growth of the Bamboo, 400. Lakes in Africa, 412. Map of Jcddo, 416. Bay of New York, 416. Musical Pitch, 416. British Museum, 416. Cobwebs for Fevers, 416. Tour through the whole Island of Great Britain, 419. Rock of Ages, 419. Mural Burial, 447. A Father's Justice, 447. George II. Halfpenny, 447. "Withered Violets," 447.
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The brotherhoods of saints are glad.
So late !—such storms !—The Saint is mad!
He heard across the howling seas
He saw on spray-swept Hebrides
But north, still north; Saint Brandan steerM:
The hurtling polar lights are near'd;
At last—(it was the Christmas night;
Stars shone after a day of storm)— He sees float near an iceberg white,
And on it—Christ!—a living form!
That furtive mien—that scowling eye—
It is—oh, where shall Brandan fly?
Palsied with terror, Brandan sate;
The moon was bright, the iceberg near. He hears a voice sigh humbly, " Wait!
By high permission I am here.
"One moment wait, thou holy man I
My name is under all men's ban:
"Tell them, one blessed Christmas nighi—
(It was the first after I came, Breathing self-murder, frenzy, spite,
To rue my guilt in endless flame)—
"I felt, as if I in torment lay
'Mid the souls plagu'd by Heavenly Power, An Angel touch mine nrm, and say—
Go hence and cool thyself an hour I
"' Ah, whence this mercy, Lord?' I said.
The leper recollect, said he, Who ask'd the passers-liy for aid,
In Joppa, and thy chanty.
"Then I rcmembor'd how I went,
One morn, when the sirocco spent
"And in the street a leper sate,
Shivering with fever, naked, old: Sand rak'd his sores from heel to pate;
The hot wind fevcr'd him fivefold.
"He gaz'd upon me as I pass'd,
To the poor wretch my cloak I cast,
"O Brandan! Think, what grace divine,
"When semblance of it faint, like mine,
"Well-fed, wcll-cJoth'd, well-friended, I
Then went my way to kill and lie—
"That germ of kindness, in the womb
Outlives my guilt, outlives my doom,
"Once every year, when carols wake,
Arising from the Sinners' Lake,
"I stanch with ice my burning breast,
O Brandan 1 to this hour of rest,
Tears started to Saint Brandan's eyes:
When he look'd up—tenantless lies
Matthew Abnold —Fraser't Magazine.
GLORY IN THE GRASP OF FRANCE.
Beauteocs France has now a chance
To win immortal glory,
Nor yet by conquest gory.
With England's linked together,
The storm of war to weather.
Soon, would she with us agree,
On strict non-interference, Of all oppressors Italy
Would make n thorough clearance; Soon expel, or quickly quell,
King, kaiser, priest fanatic, Free, as somebody said well,
From Alps to Adriatic.
Lasting fame Napoleon's name
Would shout with acclamation; If he would abjure the game,
So mean, of annexation: To the end ho did pretend
When first the ball ho started, Would he be so good a friend
As not to prove false-hearted.
France for bright ideas to fight
Vaunts herself—to free a
What a fine idea I
Of prey, to Franco all honor;
False Humbug!—out upon her!
From Fraser's Magazine. CONCERNING THK WORRIES OF LIFE,
AND HOW TO MEET THEM. Hf.be arc the long slips of paper again, covered with thoughts upon the subject you tec. For many days that subject has been simmering in the wiiter's mmd; and now he wishes to present to the thoughtful reader certain suggestions, which both reader and writer may perhaps be the better for remembering and acting on. The pages which follow are to be regarded as of the nature of a moral medicine, which I trust may prove at once alterative, anodyne, and tonic. But you are aware, my friend, that when you or any of your family get a little out of sorts, your physician is not content to tell you merely the medicine which you must take; he tells you with equal particularity the way in which you are to take it. The vial docs not come home from the druggist's bearing simply the legend that it is steel, laudanum, or ether. That is all very well, but it is not sufficient. Upon careful inspection you will discover a further inscription, setting forth how many drops you are to imbibe at once, and how frequently and at what seasons of the day you are to repeat the imbibition. Suffer me to exercise a similar prerogative with regard to the medicinal gum which I offer to the wearied and worriedmind. And in addition to the title of my essay, which is Concerning Hie Worries of Life, and how to Meet them, let me write what in my case is analogous to the doctor's For Mrs. Smith: Fifteen drops to be taken at bedtime, in the following direction: For Thoughtful People: To be read quietly, leisurely, and slowly, and when alone.
For, as you know, physical medicines may be taken at such times and in such ways that they shall do no good whatsoever. And I am well aware that this essay, like all the other essays which this hand has written for Fraser, may have a similar fate. It may be read by the wrong people; it may be read at the wrong time and place. By the wrong people j by people whom it will merely serve to irritate and annoy: by men whose nervous system is so rudely vigorous that they will despise alike the little worries I describe, and the little remedies I suggest for them. I am acquainted with human beings to whom I should no more think of offering one of these essays, than I should think of walking into Mr. Smith's stable, and reading it to the horses that run in his drag. This is said, God knows, in no supercilious spirit: it is not that I believe such persons cither worse or better than me: only I know that they arc quite dijj'erent from me. But I am not Bo much afraid of my essays getting into the hands of the wrong people;
for the man who feels at once that he has no sympathy at all with their writer will speedily throw them aside; and as for his opinion of them, that is neither here nor there. The thing I mainly dread is, that the people for whom I write should read these pages in the wrong way. An immense deal depends in the case of quiet and not brilliant writing, which yet cost some thought, upon the surroundings amid which it is read. And the essay-writer, as he traces his successive lines, has in his mind's eye some ideal reader reading his essay in some ideal place and time. But in his calculation in these respects, the essayist is no doubt often sadly mistaken. Here is a great advantage which one has in writing a sermon, as compared with writing an essay. In writing your sermon you have your congregation before your mental view. You have before you the time and the place where it is to be preached. You see the church: you remember the pulpit: you picture to yourself the faces and aspect of the congregation: you instinctively recognize the nour of the day at which you will give out your text and begin your discourse: you maintain intuitively and involuntarily a certain keeping between what you write, and all these attendant circumstances. But the essayist writes for people he has never seen; who will read his essay in chambers unknown to him: in comfortable easy-chairs by warm fires: on stiff chairs with no arms in cold corners: in lonely lodgings: amid a great shouting of little children: with the accompaniment of a stupid old woman talking on in a husky voice: with their hard hats on their heads in the reading-rooms of Royal Exchanges, Athenaeums, and Philosophical Institutions ; in a great hurry, and standing:
rite leisurely, and reclining: beside a winw that looks out on evergreens and roses: beside a window, seldom cleaned, that commands a slushy street, depressing with its brown, half-melted snow. How can you adapt yourself to all these different people and their different circumstances? The material which suits one will not suit the rest. The essay suited to be read after dinner will not do for reading after breakfast. That which is intended for a man, resting and pensive, when the day's work is over, would bo most incompatible with the few minutes for which the busy, energetic man takes up the magazine at 9.50. A.M., while waiting for tho conveyance which is to come at 10 ,and convey him to his office or his chambers. And so it Is at the present time, I desire not only to provide the written pages, but to explain where and when they are to be read: not onl to provide the medicine, but to say how i to be made use of. Let it then be underst that this essay is to be read in the evqfi
in the leisurely hour of a thoughtful person, j after the clay's toil is over, and when there is nothing more to look forward to in the way of work. Sit down, my friend, in an easychair by the fireside: feel that you have plenty of time: then let these pages be read in quiet.
Let me explain why I say so much of the external circumstances which I hold to be absolutely essential to the proper reading of this essay, and of many which have gone before it. One day in the month of January of this year, I went to a certain large institution in a certain great city, where newspapers and periodicals are provided for the amusement and instruction of many hundreds of readers. I think I see it yet, the great, lofty, vaulted chamber, where scores of newspapers were extended on frames, and scores more lay on tables j while many readers roved from printed sheet to printed sheet, like the bee from flower to flower; and many more, silent and intent, were going eagerly at the paper which they held most dear. I see it yet, the magazine-room, where there lay on certain tables copies of every monthly and quarterly published in Britain, a vast arrav. And there, not, as in my humble dwelling, a cherished and solitary guest, but only a unit in a multitude, it lay, sad-colored externally, but radiant within with intellectual and moral brightness, the MagaZine os Fraser, Suitable Alike For CounTry And For Town. Advancing as towards a friend, I seized the periodical, and carelessly turned over its leaves amid that hum of men, and that slamming of opening and shutting doors. At length my eye rested on a certain article. It is unnecessary to specify what the article was about; let it suffice to say that its title began with Concerning; that modest word to which no reviewer has hitherto done justice, which hints that though the essay may say various things about a subject, it does not pretend to exhaust the subject, but leaves a vast deal more to say. With much satisfaction I nerccivcd that the pages which bore that article were remarkably dirty. Indeed, I do not think I ever saw dirtier pages: and by a subtle process of ratiocination, I arrived at the conviction that those dirty pages must have been pressed by many hands, while the lines they bore were read by many eyes. My first emotion was one of exultation. 1 nm a popular author, thought I to myself! V And considering that hardly any of my neighbors know that I ever wrote for the press, and that my nearest relations seliom take the trouble of perusing my arti. -s, the extreme novelty of the reflection D iuccd a pardonable elation. But other fa^ -hts followed. I felt the influence of
the scene. A subdued buzz filled the air: jeoplc were constantly coming in and going >ut: and moving from place to place: every one had his hat on, and of course every one's lead was uncomfortable. There were no easy-chairs on which to lean hack and read: people were sitting on forms, leaning forivard on tables, and reading in that posture. It was between eleven and twelve o'clock A.M.; and one felt that the day's task of work was yet to do. And when, under all these impressions, I turned over the leaves, [ declare I did not recognize my own article. It seemed thoroughly out of keeping with every thing there. I could not understand it, or follow it, or sympathize with it, in that feverish, hurried atmosphere. It wag a faintly flavored thing, that had no chance by the side of short, thrilling, exciting tales, in this and that clever periodical. How the pages ever got dirty, I cannot imagine; for I know I could not have read them there myself. Do not, friendly reader, try to peruse my essays in such a place. They cannot stand it." Laudanum, suitably applied, is an efficient medicine; but it would produce no effect if rubbed on the palm of the hand. And the writer's essays, which he gladly believes have served some good and kindly ends to many sympathetic though unknown friends, will never serve these ends unless they are read in the fashion on which I have already insisted. Therefore would I (so to speak) label this article or dissertation not simply with its title, but with that further direction which is given on the preceding page. Let me carry my idea to a greater length. I said that most bottles of medicine bear not only the name of their contents, but directions for the use of their contents. This is not so, however, with alL Sometimes, when the medicine has been taken for a long time, it bears only The Mixture as formerly. The patient, it is understood, knows so well how to take it, and when, that it is needless to repeat the direction for its use. Let me please myself with the belief that many valued friends, when they discern an essay with the old initials, will know, without telling anew, how it ought to be read. It is The Mixture as before. Let it be taken in the old way. And kindly try to put up with a fashion, both in thought and word, which you may truly believe is not intended to be either egotistical or affected.
But now to my proper task. I have certain suggestions to offer Concerning the Worries of Life, and How to Meet them. I am quite aware that the reader of a metaphysical turn, after he has read my essay, may b« disposed to find fault with its title. The plan which is to be advocated for the treat