""

I was not, nor her-I was in

I stood, she saw me not. could I be, in love with love with human nature. The "brooms are one entire piece of wood; the sweeping part being slivered from the handle, and the shavings neatly turned over and bound round into the form of a besom. They are bought to dust curtains and hangings with; but good housewives have another use for them; one of them dipt in fair water, sprinkles the dried clothes in the laundry, for the process of ironing, infinitely better than the hand; it distributes the water more equally and more quickly.

Buy a Broom?!!"

There is a print with this inscription. It is a caricature representation of Mr. Brougham, with his barrister's wig, in the dress of a broom girl, and for its likeness of that gentleman, and the play on his name, it is amazingly popular; especially since he contended for a man's right to his own personal appearance, in the case of Abernethy v The Lancet, before the chancellor. Mr. Brougham's goodhumoured allusion to his own countenance, was taken by the auditors in court, to relate particularly to portrait in this print, called “Buy a Broom?" It is certainly as good as "The Great Bell of Lincoln's-inn," and two or three other prints of gentlemen eminent at the chancery-bar, sketched and etched. apparently, by the same happy hand at a thorough likeness.

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

his

The Summer Midnight.
The breeze of night has sunk to rest,
Upon the river's tranquil breast,
And every bird has sought her nest,

Where silent is her minstrelsy;
The queen of heaven is sailing high,
A pale bark on the azure sky,
Where not a breath is heard to sigh-
So deep the soft tranquillity.
Forgotten now the heat of day
That on the burning waters lay,
The noon of night her mantle gray,

Spreads, from the sun's high blazonry;
But glittering in that gentle night
There gleams a line of silvery light,
As tremulous on the shores of white
It hovers sweet and playfully.
At peace the distant shallop rides;
Not as when dashing o'er her sides
The roaring bay's unruly tides

Were beating round her gloriously;
But every sail is furl'd and still,
Silent the seaman's whistle shrill,
While dreamy slumbers seem to thrill
With parted hours of ecstacy.
Stars of the many spangled heaven!
Faintly this night your beams are given,
Tho' proudly where your hosts are driven
Ye rear your dazzling galaxy;
Since far and wide a softer hue
Is spread across the plains of bluc,
Where in bright chorus ever true

For ever swells your harmony.
O! for some sadly dying note
Upon this silent hour to float,
Where from the bustling world remote,

The lyre might wake its melody;
One feeble strain is all can swell
From mine almost deserted shell,
In mournful accents yet to tell

That slumbers not its minstrelsy, There is an hour of deep repose That yet upon my heart shall close, When all that nature dreads and know? Shall burst upon me wond'rously; O may, I then awake for ever My harp to rapture's high endeavour, And as from earth's vain scene I sever, Be lost ir. Immortality!

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

La Julienne de Nuit. Hesperis tristis. Dedicated to St. Juliana.

June 20.

St. Silverius, Pope, A. D. 538. St. Gobian, Priest and Martyr, about 656. St. Ida

burga, or Edburge. St. Bain, Bp. of Terouanne (now St. Omer,) and Abbot, about A. D. 711.

Translation of Edward

This day is so distinguished in the church of England calendar. Edward was the king of the West Saxons, murdered by order of Elfrida. He had not only an anniversary on the 18th of March, in commemoration of his sufferings, or rather of the silly and absurd miracles alleged to have been wrought at his tomb; but he was even honoured by our weak forefathers with another festival on the 20th of June, in each year, in remembrance of the removal, or translation, as it is termed, of his relics at Wareham, where they were inhumed, to the minster at Salisbury, three years after his decease.

It is observed by Mr. Brady, on the translation of St. Edward, as follows:"At the period this solemn act of absurd pomp took place, all Europe was plunged in a state of profound ignorance and mental darkness; no marvel, therefore, that great importance should have been attached to such superstitious usage; but for what reason our reformers chose to keep up a recollection of that folly, cannot readily be ascertained.

"Of the origin of translations of this kind, much has been written; and if we are to credit the assertions of those monkish writers, whose works are yet found in catholic countries, though they have themselves long passed to the silent tomb, we must believe not only that they had their source from a principle of devotion, but that peculiar advantages accrued to those who encouraged their increase. In the year 359, the emperor Constantius, out of a presumed and, perhaps, not inconsistent respect, caused the remains of St. Andrew and St. Luke to be removed from their ancient place of interment to the temple of the twelve apostles, at Constantinople; and from that example, the practice of searching for the bodies of saints and martyrs increased so rapidly, that in the year 386, we find almost the whole of the devotees engaged in that pursuit. Relics, of course, speedily became of considerable value; and as they were all alleged to possess peculiar virtues, no expense or labour were spared to provide such treasures for every public religious foundation. Hence translations innumerable took place of the decayed members of persons

reputed saints; and where the entire bodies could not be collected, the pious contented themselves with possessing such parts alone as Providence chose to bless them with.' Without these sacred relics, no establishments could expect to thrive; and so provident had the persons been who laboured in their collection, that not a single religious house but could produce one or more of those invaluable remains; though, unless we are to believe that most relics, like the holy cross itself, possessed the power of self-augmentation, we must either admit, that some of our circumspect forefathers were imposed upon, or that St. John the Baptist had more heads than that of which he was so cruelly deprived, as well as several of their favourite saints having each kindly afforded them two or three skeletons of their precious bodies; circumstances that frequently occurred, because,' says Father John Ferand, of Anecy, God was pleased so to multiply and re-produce them, for the devotion of the faithful!'

"Of the number of these relics that

have been preserved, it is useless to attempt a description, nor, indeed, could they be detailed in many volumes; yet it may gratify curiosity to afford some brief account of such as, in addition to the heads of St. John the Baptist, were held in the greatest repute, were it for no other reason than to show how the ignorance and credulity of the commonalty have, in former ages, been imposed upon, viz.:

:

"A finger of St. Andrew;

"A finger of St. John the Baptist;
"The thumb of St. Thomas;
"A tooth of our Lord;

"A rib of our Lord, or, as it is profanely styled, of the Verbum caro factum, the word made flesh;

"The hem of our Lord's garment, which cured the diseased woman;

"The seamless coat of our Lord;

"A tear which our Lord shed over Lazarus; it was preserved by an angel, who gave it in a phial to Mary Magdalene;

"Two handkerchiefs, on which are impressions of our Saviour's face; the one sent by our Lord himself as a present to Agbarus, prince of Edessa; the other given at the time of his crucifixion to a holy woman, named Veronica;

The rod of Moses, with which he performed his miracles; “A lock of hair of Mary Magdalene's;

in a manuscript copied by Strutt. From the same illumination, their summer dress in that age is here represented.

LONGEST DAY.

No day is disadvantageous to an agreeable thought or two upon "Time;" and the present, being the longest day, is selected for submitting to perusal a very pleasant little apologue from a miscellany addressed to the young. The object of the writer was evidently to dr good, and it is hoped that its insertion here, in furtherance of the purpose, may not be less pleasing to the editor who first introduced it to the public eye, than it will be found by the readers of the Every-Day Book.

This is the tale.

THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM.

An old clock, that had stood for fifty years in a farmer's kitchen, without giving its owner any cause of complaint, early one summer's morning, before the family was stirring, suddenly stopped.

Upon this, the dial-plate (if we may credit the fable,) changed countenance with alarm; the hands made a vain effort to continue their course; the wheels remained motionless with surprise; the weights hung speechless; each member felt disposed to lay the blame on the others. At length the dial instituted a formal inquiry as to the cause of the stagnation, when hands, wheels, weights, with one voice protested their innocence. But now a faint tick was heard below from the pendulum, who thus spoke :

"I confess myself to be the sole cause of the present stoppage; and I am willing, for the general satisfaction, to assign my The truth is, that I am tired of ticking." Upon hearing this, the old ciock became so enraged, that it was on the very point of striking.

reasons.

"Lazy wire!" exclaimed the dial-plate,

holding up its hands.-" Very good," replied the pendulum: "it is vastly easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, as every body knows, set yourself up above me, it is vastly easy for you, I say, to accuse other people of laziness! You, who have had nothing to do all the days of your life but to stare people in the face, and to amuse yourself with watching all that goes on in the kitchen! Think, I beseech you, how you would like to be shut up for life in this dark closet, and to wag backwards and forwards, year after year, and do."-" As to that," said the dial, Is there not a window in your house, on purpose for you to look through?"

"For all that," resumed the pendulum "it is very dark here: and, although there is a window, I dare not stop, even for an instant, to look out at it. Besides, I am really tired of my way of life; and, if you wish, I'll tell you how I took this disgust at my employment. I happened this morning to be calculating how many times I should have to tick in the course only of the next twenty-four hours: perhaps some of you above there can give me the exact sum."

ແ

The minute hand, being quick at figures, presently replied, "Eighty-six thousand four hundred times.

"Exactly so," replied the pendulum; well, I appeal to you all, if the very thought of this was not enough to fatigue one; and when I began to multiply the strokes of one day by those of months and years, really it is no wonder if I felt discouraged at the prospect; so, after a great deal of reasoning and hesitation, thinks I to myself, I'll stop."

The dial could scarcely keep its countenance during this harangue; but, resuming its gravity, thus replied

"Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really astonished that such a useful, industrious person as yourself should have been overcome by this sudden notion. It is true you have done a great deal of work in your time; so have we all, and are likely to do; which, although it may fatigue us to think of, the question is, whether it will fatigue us to do. Would you now do me the favour to give about half a dozen strokes, to illustrate my argument?"

The pendulum complied, and ticked six times at its usual pace.-"Now," resumed the dial, "may I be allowed to inquire, if that exertion was at all fa tiguing or disagreeable to you?"