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But old clothes, after they have served the purposes of two or three classes of society, are yet far from closing their career; when they have seen their worst, they take altogether a new lease of existence. As old Jason was renewed, in ancient story, by being ground in a mill, so are our garments in the present day. When old clothes are too bad for anything else, they are still good enough for Shoddy and Mungo. Batley, Dewsbury, and Leeds, have been described as the grand centres of woollen rags-the tatterdemalion capitals, into which are drawn all the greasy, frowsy, cast-off clothes of Europe, and whence issue the pilot cloths, the Petershams, the beavers, the Talmas, the Chesterfields, and the Mohairs in which our modern dandies disport themselves.

The old rags, after being reduced to the condition of wool by enormous toothed wheels, are mixed with a varying amount of fresh wool, and the whole is then worked up into the fabrics we have mentioned, which now have the run of fashion. It is estimated that Shoddy and Mungo supply the materials for a third of

the woollen manufactures of this country. Here is a grand transformation. No man can say that the materials of the coat he is wearing has not been already on the back of some greasy beggar. In one corner of the "animal products department" in the South Kensington Museum, the visitor can see hundreds of specimens of this shoddy and mungo-a perfect resurrection of the old clothes from every country in Europe. The cast-off wardrobes of civilized man by a law of commerce are sucked into this country, and mainly into this metropolis, and in return we distribute it in perfect fabrics, destined to go once more the round of civilization; woollen fabrics are hard to die, and, for all we know, clothes are thus ground up over and over again.

The final destination, however, of all old clothes is the soil; when art can do no more for much-vexed woollen fibre it becomes a land rag, and here as a manure it yields its final service, aiding in the production of food for the veritable body which it once clothed.

T.

THE HOUR-GLASS.

HE use of the Hour-glass can be traced to ancient Greece. In Christie's Greek Vases, one is engraved from a scarabæus of sardonyx, in the Towneley collection: it is exactly like the modern hour-glass.

Bloomfield, in one of his rural tales, "The Widow to her Hour-glass," sings:

"I've often watched thy streaming sand,

And seen the growing mountain rise,
And often found life's hope to stand

On props as weak in wisdom's eyes:
Its conic crown

Still sliding down,
Again heaped up, then down again:

The sand above more hollow grew,

Like days and years still filtering through,
And mingling joy and pain.”

The Hour-glass has almost entirely given place to the more useful, because to a greater extent self-acting, instrument; and it is now seldom seen except upon the table of the lecturer or private teacher, in the study of the philosopher, in the cottage of the peasant, or in the hand of the old emblematic figure of Time. We still sometimes see it in the workshop of the cork-cutter. The half-minute glass is still employed on board ship; and the two and a half or three minute glass for boiling an egg with exactness,

Preaching by the Hour-glass was formerly common; and public speakers are timed, in the present day, by the same means. In the

churchwardens' books of St. Helen's, Abingdon, date 1599, is a charge of fourpence for an hour-glass for the pulpit; in 1564 we find in the books of St. Katherine's, Christ Church, Aldgate, "paid for an hour-glass that hangeth by the pulpit when the preacher doth make a sermon, that he may know how the hour passeth away-one shilling;" and in the books of St. Mary's, Lambeth, 1579 and 1615, are similar entries. Butler, in "Hudibras," alludes to pulpit hour-glasses having been used by the Puritans: the preacher having named the text, turned up the glass; and if the sermon did not last till the sand was out, it was said by the congregation that the preacher was lazy; but if, on the other hand, he continued much longer, they would yawn and stretch till the discourse was finished. At the old church of St. Dunstanin-the-West, Fleet Street, was a large hourglass in a silver frame, of which latter, when the instrument was taken down, in 1723, two heads were made for the parish staves. Hogarth, in his "Sleepy Congregation," has introduced an hour-glass on the west side of the pulpit. A very perfect hour-glass is preserved in the church of St. Alban, Wood Street, Cheapside; it is placed on the right of the readingdesk within a frame of twisted columns and arches, supported on a spiral column: the four sides have angels sounding trumpets; and each end has a line of crosses patées and fleurs-delis, somewhat resembling the imperial crown. JOHN TIMBS, F.S.A.

Leaves from the Book of Nature: Descriptive Narrative.&.

SHELLS.

HE Carinaria form a remarkable group of mollusca. They were formerly known to collectors as Venus's Slipper and the Glass Nautilus.

The body of the animal is sub-cylindrical, elongated, transparent, dotted with elevated points, prolonged posteriorly, and furnished towards the upper part of its extremity with a sort of fin, which performs the part of a rudder. A reddish, thin, compressed, semicircular fin, beautifully reticulated, and furnished with a kind of sucker, rises from the belly, nearly opposite to the point on the back occupied by the shell; and with the aid of this fin it floats along. The head is capable of contraction within the body, and is provided with a retractile proboscis.

Other varieties of shells are remarkable in a different way. Some are very large in size. As an example of this we may mention those which have been made to form fonts in one of the churches in Paris. Speaking of one of these, the eminent naturalist, Dr. Johnstone, says :

"When shrunk within its shell you might well deem any animal that could hide itself there, all too small and weak to carry about a burden larger and heavier than itself; and that safety might be here advantageously exchanged for relief from so much heaviness of armour,

and from such an impediment to every journey. There is in my cabinet a fine specimen of Cassis tuberosa, which measures fully ten inches in length, and upwards of eight in breadth; another of Strombus gigas, is nearly one foot in length.

Yet," continues this distinguished natu ralist, "though the weight of the formerthe Cassis tuberosa-is four pounds, two ounces, and that of the latter-the Strombus gigas-is four pounds, nine ounces, the mollusc creeps under this load with apparent ease. Nor are you much surprised when you see it actually in motion, for the seeming disproportion between the contained animal and containing shell has disappeared.

"On issuing from his shell, like eastern genii freed from their exorcism, the animal has grown visibly has assumed a portlier size and more pedestrious figure. The body has suddenly become tumid and elastic, the skin and exterior organs stretched and displayed; the foot has grown in length and in breadth, and, with additional firmness, it has acquired the capability of being directed, bent and modified in shape to a considerable degree, as the surface of the road traversed may require."

Examples of shelled creatures will be found in the annexed engraving.

A THOUSAND AND ONE STORIES FROM NATURE.

ORIGINAL AND SELECTED.

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BY THE REV. F. O. MORRIS, B.A., RECTOR OF NUNBURNHOLME, YORKSHIRE, AND CHAPLAIN TO HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF CLEVELAND, AUTHOR OF A HISTORY OF BRITISH BIRDS (DEDICATED BY PERMISSION TO HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN), ETC., ETC.

THE DOG.

CXX.

We had a pointer in the country, some years ago, which exhibited many most interesting traits of instinct. She was fed regularly at certain periods, but it frequently happened that she obtained food in the interval unknown to us in the field, and was disinclined to eat. She used to watch her opportunity, and if the meat was in a solid form, such as bread, bones,

&c., she went and buried it, intending to dis cuss it gastronomically at a more convenient season, or preparing for an evil day. As the dog grew old, this habit increased upon her, but without the corresponding good memory, so that frequently after she was dead, the gardener would dig up large pieces of bread, mouldy and black, which she had interred months before.

Jess (for such was her name), though a

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most vigilant watch-dog-in which capacity she was occasionally employed-was a great coward, and never ventured to bark at any one until within the walls of the park; and then, as if to exemplify the proverb that "every cock crows best on his own dunghill," she would bear competition with any of the canine family. She distinguished quickly between the welcome and unwelcome guests,-i. e., beggars and visitors to the family, and would vary her barking according to the character of their apparent wardrobe, imitating many others of a higher race! though she never neglected to give timely warning that one kind or another was approaching. She was

much attached to several members of the household, and could with difficulty be restrained from following them to church. To prevent this, she was tied up during the hours they were away. After a few Sundays they were chagrined and surprised to find Jess at the church-door, about two miles distant, waiting their arrival. This was repeated frequently, until she was watched; when it was found that, waiting until they were out of sight, she slipped the strap, which she had discovered to be too wide, by pulling it over the head by means of her feet, and then followed them to church. But in order to avoid detection and the risk of being sent back, she would slink behind hedges and walls until within a few yards of the church, when she turned round with a fawning exculpatory grin on her countenance, which defied punishment.

CXXI.

During the mayoralty of Mr. Alderman Hale, his coachman at the City Mews had a dog, "Rough" by name, and something of the terrier by nature. He was extremely attentive to his master, but, strange to say, would never go out when the ordinary carriages were used; only on state occasions would his dog-ship condescend to go, with the best horses, richly caparisoned, and the state carriage. Then would he work his ears about, twitch his nose, and take his place in front of the cortége, and remain until the ceremony was completed.

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between its teeth and trotted off. The baker, seeing it coming, threw down a roll and picked up what he supposed was a genuine coin of the realm, for the animal, sagacious in the artifices of deceitful man, would never part with the money until it had received full value. On finding out his mistake, he turned round to see if the little swindler was there, but was not a little amused to see it, on looking out of the window, scampering home along the street with the bread between its teeth, instead of remaining, as was its wont, to eat it in the shop.

CXXIII.

Shepherds have always curious and inte resting stories to tell of what they call the "wiseness” of their favourite dogs, among the most sagacious of their kind. A shepherd, a most observant and intelligent man, told me that he had received a dog from his brother, living about fifteen miles off, which, though a most excellent animal, did not suit him. It had become attached to him, and showed no signs of caring to part from him; until the shepherd one winter night, when speaking to his wife about it, happened to say, "Well, I don't think she will do for me, so I will just send her off to-morrow morning with the postgig to W" The dog was lying dozing under the table at the time, and on hearing this started up, uneasy and whining; shortly afterwards it went to the door, and was not to be seen that night. Suspecting the cause of this sudden departure, the shepherd sent word to his brother, and learnt that the dog was found lying at his door the next morning waiting for admission.

CXXIV.

A gentleman belonging to the staff of the Royal Victoria Hospital, at Netley, took a long walk in the neighbourhood of Southamp

ton last week, accompanied by his dog, a fine Newfoundland. In the evening he missed some letters from his coat pocket, and his dog. The latter did not surprise him, as his dog often wandered from him in his walks. The next day the gentleman felt annoyed and puzzled at the loss of his letters, and he thought it possible he might have drawn them out of his pocket with his handkerchief during his previous day's walk. He resolved, therefore, to repeat the walk, for he might have dropped the letters in an unfrequented path, and they might be there still. About four miles from the Hospital he came suddenly upon his dog,

lying on the ground, with the letters close by. The dog must have lain by the side of the letters for sixteen hours, including the whole night. The animal has been re-named "Postmaster-General." An artist has sketched the Postmaster-General guarding the letters.Dundee Journal, 1867.

THE GOOSE.

CXXV.

Our Chinese goose took to a duck and her young brood and protected them, and ran at every one and everything that attempted to molest them. She would not let the gander come near, and went about with them on land and water.

THE BULLFINCH.

CXXVI.

A bullfinch abstained from singing ten entire months, on account of the absence of its mistress. On her return, it immediately resumed its song.

THE HEDGEHOG. CXXVII.

A hedgehog was once taught by an innkeeper, who lived in Northumberland, to turn the spit in his kitchen, and would come when called.

THE MARTIN. CXXVIII.

The following extraordinary circumstance is said to have occurred some years ago on the banks of the Seven, in Fifeshire; and Father Bougeant, the advocate for the existence of brute language, adduces it in favour of his proof :

A sparrow finding a nest a martin had just built standing very conveniently for him, possessed himself of it. The martin, seeing the usurper in her house, called for help to expel him. A thousand martins came full speed, and attacked the sparrow; but the latter, attacked on every side, and presenting only his large beak at the entrance of the nest, was invulnerable, and made the boldest that durst approach him repent of their temerity. After a quarter of an hour's combat, all the martins disappeared. The sparrow thought he had got the better, and the spectators judged that the martins had abandoned their undertaking. Not in the least. They immediately returned to the charge, and each of them having procured a little of that tempered earth with

which they make their nests, they all at once fell upon the sparrow, and enclosed him in the nest to perish there, though they could not drive him thence. "Can it be imagined," asks Father Bougeant, "that the martins had been able to hatch and concert this design, all of them together, without speaking to each other, or without some medium of communication equivalent to language ?"

THE BEE.

CXXIX.

A correspondent of the Glasgow Herald transmits the following: "On Sunday morning last I had the pleasure of witnessing a most interesting ceremony, which I desire to record for the benefit of your readers. Whilst walking with a friend in a garden near Falkirk, we observed two bees issuing from one of the hives, bearing betwixt them the body of a defunct comrade, with which they flew for a distance of ten yards. We followed them closely, and noted the care with which they selected a convenient hole at the side of the gravel walk, the tenderness with which they committed the body, head downwards, to the earth, and the solicitude with which they afterwards pushed against it two little stones, doubtless in memoriam.' Their task being ended, they paused for about a minute, perhaps to drop over the grave of their friend a sympathizing tear, and then they flew away." THE HAWK.

CXXX.

A few days ago, as Mr. Macgillivray, farmer, Ballachroan, Kingussie, was taking an early walk through his fields, he observed a hawk evidently intent on pouncing on a lark, which showed every sign of being fully aware of the evil designs of its more powerful antagonist. Alarmed at the near approach of the foe, the poor little bird alighted at Mr. Macgillivray's feet, who lifted it up in his hand, and thus rescued it from the fangs of the hawk. The little lark was carefully carried home and placed in a cage. In the evening of the same day, Mr. Macgilvray, naturally thinking that the coast was clear, gave the lark its freedom; but no sooner did it wing its flight, than down came the hawk with the rapidity of lightning and pounced its claws in the back of its innocent and defenceless victim, carrying it exultingly to its retreat.-Inverness Courier.

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