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As far-off islanders,

Innocent of trade, unskilled in commerce,
To whom a glass or toy unknown before
Is wonderful, give freely, flocks and fruits
To gain mere baubles; so, these silly birds
Attracted by the glisten of the twirler,
Hover above the passing strange decoy,
Intent to gaze, and fall the gunner's prey.
Abbeville.

Dear Sir,
If I do not send you your wished for
wood cuts I at least keep my promise of
letting you hear from me. I told you in
iny last you should have something about
or ark-shooting, and so you shall, and
at this time too; though I assure you
writing flying as I almost do, is by no
means so agreeable to me as shooting fly-
ing, which is the finest sport imaginable.
When I come home I will tell you all
about it, for the present I can only ac-
quaint you with enough to let you into
the secret of the enjoyment that I should
always find in France, if I had no other
attraction to the country. I must "level"
at once, for I have no time to spare, and
so "here goes," as the boy says.

Partridge and quail shooting cease in this delightful part of the world about the middle of October, for by that time the partridges are so very wild and wary that there is no getting near them. The reason of this is, that our fields here are all open without either hedge or ditch, and when the corn and hemp are off, the stubble is pulled up so close by the poor people for fuel, that there is no cover for partridges; as to the quails, they are all either "killed off," or take their departure for a wilder climate; and then there is nothing left for the French gentry to amuse themselves with but lark-shooting. These birds are attracted to any given spot in great numbers by a singular contrivance, called a miroir. This is a small machine, made of a piece of mahogany,

shaped like a chapeau bras, and highly polished; or else it is made of common wood, inlaid with small bits of looking glass, so as to reflect the suns rays upwards. It is fixed on the top of a thin iron rod, or upright spindle, dropped through an iron loop or ring attached to a piece of wood, to drive into the ground as here represented.

By pulling a string fastened to the spindle, the miroir twirls, and the reflected light unaccountably attracts the larks, who hover over it, and become a mark for the sportsman. In this way I have had capital sport. A friend of mine actually shot six dozen before breakfast. While he sat on the ground he pulled the twirler himself, and his dogs fetched the birds as they dropped. However, I go on in the common way, and employ a boy to work the twirler. Ladies often partake in the amusement on a cold dry morning, not by shooting but by watching the sport. So many as ten or a dozen parties are sometimes out together, firing at a distance of about five hundred yards apart, and in this way the larks are constantly kept on the wing. The most favourable mornings are when there is a gentle light frost, with little or no wind, and a clear sky-for when there are clouds the larks will not approach. One would think the birds themselves enjoyed their destruction, for :be fascination of the twirler is so strong, as to rob them of the usual "fruits of experience." After being fired at several times they return to the twirler, and form again into groupes above it. Some of them even fly down and settle on the ground, within a yard or two of the astonishing instrument, looking at it "this

way and that way, and all ways together," as if nothing had happened.

Larks in France fetch from three to four sous a piece. In winter, however, when they are plentiful, they are seldom caten, because here they are always dressed with the trail, like snipes and woodcocks; but for this mode of cooking they are not fitted when the snow is on the ground, because they are then driven to eat turniptops, and other watery herbs, which communicate an unpleasant flavour to the trail. Were you here at the season, to eat larks in their perfection, and dressed as we dress them, I think your praise of the cooking would give me the laugh against you, if you ever afterwards ventured to declaim against the use of the gun, which, next to my pencil, is my greatest hobby. I send you a sketch of the sport, with the boy at the twirler-do what you like with it.

I rather think I did not tell you in my last, that the decoy ducks, used in wildfowl shooting, are made of wood-any stump near at hand is hacked out any how for the body, while a small limb of any tree is thrust into the stump for the duck's neck, and one of the side branches left short makes his head. These ducks answer the purpose with their living prototypes, who fly by moonlight, and have not a perfect view, and don't stay for distinctions, like philosophers.

It will not be long before I'm off for England, and then, &c. &c. J. H. H.

I am,

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every joint of each finger on each hand was appropriated to some saint. The proof of this is supplied by two very old prints, from engravings on wood, at the British Museum. They are among a collection of ancient wood cuts pasted in a folio volume. It would occupy too much room to give copies of these representations in fac-simile: the curiously inclined, who have access to the Museum printroom, may consult the originals; general readers may be satisfied with the following description :

Right Hand.

The top joint of the thumb is dedicated to GOD; the second joint to the Virgin; the top joint of the fore finger to Barnabas, the second joint to John, the third to Paul; the top joint of the second finger to Simeon Cleophas, the second Joint to Tathideo, the third to Joseph; the top joint of the third finger to Zaccheus, the second to Stephen, the third to Luke; the top joint of the little finger to Leatus, the second to Mark, the third oint to Nicodemus.

Left Hand.

The top joint of the thumb is dedicated To Christ, the second joint to the Virgin; the top joint of the fore finger to St. James, the second to St. John the evangelist, the third to St. Peter; the first joint of the second finger to St. Simon, the second joint to St. Matthew, the third to St. James the great; the top joint of the third finger to St. Jude, the second joint to St. Bartholomew, the third to St. Andrew; the top joint of the little finger to St. Matthias, the second joint to St. Thomas, the third joint to St. Philip.

NATURALISTS' CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature...36.92.

January 21.
St. Agnes.

In the church of England calendar. How to sleep well in cold weather. Obtain a free circulation of the blood by walking, or other wholesome exercise, so as to procure a gentle glow over the entire surface of the body. Hasten to your chamber, undress yourself quickly, and jump into bed without suffering ts temperature to be heightened by the

* See vol. i. p. 141.

machine called a warming-pan. Your bed will be warmed by your own hear, and if you have not eaten a meat supper, or drank spirits, you will sleep well and warm all night. Calico sheets are adapted to this season-blankets perhaps are bet ter; but as they absorb perspiration they should be washed before they come into use with sheets in summer time.

Extraordinary sleeper.

Samuel Clinton, of Timbury, near Bath, a labouring man, about twenty-five years of age, had frequently slept, without intermission, for several weeks. On the 13th of May, 1694, he fell into a profound sleep, out of which he could by no means be roused by those about him; but after a month's time, he rose of himself, put on his clothes, and went about his business as usual. From that time to the 9th of

April following he remained free from any extraordinary drowsiness, but then fell into another protracted sleep. His friends were prevailed on to try what remedies might effect, and accordingly he was bled, blistered, cupped, and scarified, but to no purpose. In this manner he lay till the 7th of August, when he awaked, and went into the fields, where he found people busy in getting in the harvest, and remembered that when he fell asleep they were sowing their oats and barley. From that time he remained well till the 17th of August, 1697, when he complained of a shivering, and, after some disorder of the stomach, the same day fell fast asleep again. Dr. Oliver went to see him; he was then in an agreeable warmth, but without the least sign of his being sensible; the doctor then held a phial of sal-ammoniac under his nose, and injected about half an ounce up one of his nostrils, but it only made his nose run and his eyelids shiver a little. The doctor then filled his nostrils with powder of white hellebore, but the man did not dis cover the least uneasiness. About ten days after, the apothecary took fourteen ounces of blood from his arm without his making the least motion during the operation. The latter end of September Dr. Oliver again visited him, and a gentleman present ran a large pin into his arm to the bone, but he gave not the least sign of feeling. In this manner he lay till the 19th of November, when his mother hearing him make a noise ran immediately to

him, and asked him how he did, and what he would have to eat? to which he re

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A hard frost is a season of holidays in London. The scenes exhibited are too agreeable and ludicrous for the pen to describe. They are for the pencil; and Mr. Cruikshank's is the only one equal to the series. In a work like this there is no room for their display, yet he has hastily essayed the preceding sketch in a short hour. It is proper to say, that how ever gratifying the representation may be to the reader, the friendship that extorted it is not ignorant that scarcely a tithe of either the time or space requisite has been afforded Mr. Cruikshank for the subiect. It conveys some notion however of part of the doings on "the Serpentine in fiyde-park" when the therinometer is below freezing," and every drop of water depending from trees and eaves becomes solid, and hangs

"like a diamond in the sky." The ice-bound Serpentine is the resort of every one who knows how or is learning to skate, and on a Sunday its broad surface is covered with gazers who have "as much right" to be on it as skaters, and therefore "stand" upon the right to interrupt the recreation they came to see. This is especially the case on a Sunday. The entire of this canal from the wall of Kensington-gardens to the extremity at the Knightsbridge end was, on Sunday the 15th of January, 1826, literally a mob of skaters and gazers. At one period it was calculated that there were not less than a hundred thousand persons upon this single sheet of ice.

The coachmen on the several roads, particularly on the western and northern oads, never remembered a severer frost than they experienced on the Sunday night just mentioned. Those who recollected that of 1814, when the Thames was frozen over, and booths raised on the ice, declared that they did not feel it so severely, as it did not come on so suddenly. The houses and trees in the country had a singular appearance on the Monday, owing to the combination of frost and fog; the trees, and fronts of houses, and even the glass was covered with thick white frost, and was no more transparent than ground-glass.

Butchers, in the suburbs, where the frost was felt more keenly than in the metropolis, were obliged to keep their shops shut in order to keep out the frost; many of them carried the meat into their parlours, and kept it folded up in cloths

round the fires, and unfolded it as then customers came in and required it. The market gardeners also felt the severity of the weather-it stopped their labours, and some of the men, attended by their wives, went about in parties, and with frosted greens fixed at the tops of rakes and hoes, uttered the ancient cry of "Pray remember the gardeners! Remember the poor frozen out gardeners !"*

The Apparition.

"Twas silence all, the rising moon

With clouds had veil'd her light,
The clock struck twelve, when, lo! I saw
A very chilling sight.

Pale as a snow-ball was its face,
Like icicles its hair;
For mantle, it appeared to me

A sheet of ice to wear.

Tho' seldom given to alarm,

I'faith, I'll not dissemble,
My teeth all chatter'd in my head,

And every joint did tremble.

At last, I cried, "Pray who are you,
And whither do you go?"
Methought the phantom thus replied,
"My name is Sally Snow;
"My father is the Northern Wind,
My mother's name was Water;
Old parson Winter married them,
And I'm their hopeful Daughter.

"I have a lover-Jackey Frost,

My dad the match condemns; I've run from home to-night to meet My love upon the Thames."

I

stopp'd Miss Snow in her discourse, This answer just to cast in, "I hope, if John and you unite,

Your union wo'n't be lasting! "Besides, if you should marry him, But ill you'd do, that I know; For surely Jackey Frost must be A very slippery fellow." She sat her down before the fire,

My wonder now increases; For she I took to be a maid,

Then tumbled into pieces! For air, thin air, did Hamlet's ghost,

His foremost cock-crow barter; But what I saw, and now describe, Resolv'd itself to water.

Morning Herald, 16th January, 1826.

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