THE dormouse, squirrel, and hedge-hog become torpid in cold weather. When the evenings are mild, bats, of which there are several British species, are seen flying about. At this dull time,

"No bird to bird repeats his tuneful call,

Save the lone red-breast on the moss-grown wall."

This interesting warbler is thus noticed in Hone's "Year Book :""The beautiful and brave little robin, whiffler of the choir of song-birds, advances first, and alone, to give the earliest greeting to the new year, with notes clear and brilliant as his eyes,-bold, and abrupt as his resolute hoppings and determined stand. He might be called the winter nightingale, only that he never sings after the bright twilight. From a comfortable room, at this dead season, it is delicious to look out upon a robin, as he perches on a near tree, among naked shoots, barren as lances, jerking his sweet tones upon the stillness. In a walk before the grey of evening it is a still higher gratification to find him, far from the haunts of care-worn men, upon a slender spray of some high bank, seem-. ingly unconscious of other living things, pouring upon the dreariness of the dell short liquid. carols, with long intervals between, converting the frozen waste and frowning steep into a solemn place of devotion, winning the child-like passenger to contemplation and thanksgiving,—

'And now another day is gone,

I'll sing my Maker's praise!'

In infancy, the robin was our favourite and familiar; and through life every remembrance of him is pleasurable."

We must not forget the little wren, which is often seen in the neighbourhood of our dwellings, where he tunes his cheerful notes. It seems as if nature had intended to compensate the want of size and bulk of this bird, by multiplying it to a greater amount. The wren is perhaps the most prolific of the feathered race; for the nest, which is of the shape and bigness of the egg of a common hen, contains often upwards of eighteen eggs, of a whitish colour, and not much larger than a pea. The male and female enter this repository by a hole contrived in the middle of the nest, and which, by its situation and size, is accessible to none besides themselves. The wren weighs only about three drachms. It is truly astonishing, that a bird so small, should be enabled to hatch so many eggs under the small space of its little breast: and what care and attention are requisite to rear so large a family!

"The brisk and sprightly wren,

When the icy hand of Winter sternly spreads
Her ermine mantle on the wither'd lawn,
And on the hoary banks of frozen brooks,

Salutes with melody the chilling breeze,

And chirps and sighs amidst the silent grief
Of half-expiring nature."

Towards the end of this month the titmouse gives out its metallic-sounding notes, which are similar to the noise produced by

whetting a saw. This bird presents us with a curious anomaly; namely, that his tongue is split at the base into four distinct filaments. The head is curiously coloured; the beak is generally black, with strong hairs at the base. The head and throat are of the same colour, the belly of a yellowish green, and the rump inclined to blue; the tail is black, but touched with blue at its exterior edges. This bird lives chiefly on insects. If this kind of food be deficient, (as is generally the case at this time of the year,) he then feeds on several kinds of seeds, and particularly that of the sun-flower, which he dexterously holds upright between his claws, and strikes powerfully with his sharp little bill, till the black covering splits, and yields its white contents to the hammering bird. It is also amusing to see with what adroitness he will pick a bone, with which he may meet in the farm-yard.

Chaffinches, with sparrows, and some other small birds, are seen together picking up seeds, &c., in the neighbourhood of our dwellings, while the flakes of snow fly thickly around.

Fieldfares and redwings frequently appear in large flocks, especially in snowy weather.

In contemplating animated nature, we meet with a thousand objects which lead our minds to acknowledge the watchful eye of the beneficent Creator over all his works. I was much entertained when at Hartwell-house, the seat of Dr. Lee, near Aylesbury, Bucks, last September, by observing the rooks returning to their resting-place, at sun-set, among the trees which surround that ancient mansion. They almost darkened the sky with their numbers, and the noise they produced was truly singular. This tumult continued every evening for about a quarter of an hour; after which all was silent. I could not but admire that peculiar instinct by which these birds were led, as it were in common defence, to congregate together from all the neighbourhood at the same time.

The appearances which nature presents in the vegetable kingdom, at this season of the year, are not very attractive; yet, amidst the general torpor, reviviscent signs appear, enough to invite the intelligent youth to enter upon the study of botany, under the auspices of a new year, which has ever been considered favourable to fresh projects, and which are at this time undertaken with renewed ardour.

The Christmas-rose (helleborus niger) now unfolds its pretty flowers to our notice. The china-rose blows in the open air, and often exhibits its red buds mossed with hoar-frost. The sweetsmelling wall-flower gives out a few blossoms, along with periwinkle. Heart's-ease, sheltered from the northern blasts, presents its lovely flowers.

"I love to see the little thing,

When morning paints the skies,
Before the lark is on the wing
Open its brilliant eyes.

Then bright and fresh with shining dew
It glitters to the ray,

With triple spots of various hue,
So fancifully gay."

The herb rosemary puts forth its buds. This plant used formerly to denote rejoicing. Hence, in an account of a joyful entry of Queen Elizabeth into London, January 14th, 1558, there is this passage:-"How many nosegays did Her Grace receive at poor women's hands? How often-times stayed she her chariot, when she saw any simple body offer to speak to Her Grace? A branch of rosemary, given to Her Grace, with a supplication by a poor woman, about Fleet-bridge, was seen in her chariot till Her Grace came to Westminster."

In more modern years rosemary has been deemed an emblem of mourning. The funereal use of this herb, and its budding in the present month, gave birth to the following effusion:

"Sweet scented flower! who art wont to bloom

On January's front severe,

And o'er the wintry desert drear

To waft thy waste perfume!

Come, thou shalt form my nosegay now,

And I will bind thee round my brow;

And, as I twine the mournful wreath,

I'll weave a melancholy song;

And sweet the strain shall be, and long,

The melody of death!"

BRIEF ASTRONOMICAL NOTICES,

FOR JANUARY, 1838.

By MR. WILLIAM ROGERSON, Royal Observatory, Greenwich. "Lo! like an eagle soaring to the sun,

On thought's aspiring wing I climb the skies:
Here Fancy travels far, and travels on,

The scenes wide opening as aloft she flies:
The sun's wide empire, every circling star,
To which he lends his life-dispensing beam,
Amazed I view; from Mercury's glowing car,

To where cold Georgian wheels his lazy team.
"Lo! next I trace the comet's lengthening maze,
Through fields of ether whirling to the sun;
Now pass with towering flight the solar blaze,
Marking each orb enormous rolling on:
Still, still I mount; and in the milky way,
Round other suns see peopled planets roll;
Myriads of creatures breathe their native day
In various climes beneath another pole."

THE Sun rises on the 1st at eight minutes past eight, and sets at one minute after four: on the 18th he rises at fifty-nine minutes past seven, and sets at twenty-three minutes after four.

The Moon sets on the 1st at half-past ten o'clock, and on the 2d at midnight: she enters on her first quarter on the 3d, at fortythree minutes past six in the morning; and sets on the 5th at

She

twenty minutes before three in the morning. The Moon is full on the 10th, at twenty minutes past seven in the night; and rises on the 11th at half-past four in the evening: she rises on the 13th at seven o'clock, and on the 15th at half-past nine at night. enters on her last quarter on the 19th, at twenty-five minutes before one in the morning; and changes on the 26th, at eight minutes before two in the morning. The Moon presents her fine crescent in the west on the 27th; and sets at thirty-four minutes past six : she sets on the 29th at thirty-seven minutes past nine, and on the 31st at half an hour after midnight.

MERCURY is visible after sun-set, near the western horizon, during the first week of this month.

VENUS is now a very splendid object every clear evening on the 10th she sets at half-past eight: she is in conjunction with the Moon on the 28th, and on the 29th attains her greatest brilliancy. MARS is invisible.

JUPITER appears very bright in the mornings, in the southern skies on the 15th he is in conjunction with the Moon.

SATURN is to be seen near the horizon, in the south-east, at the break of day: on the 21st day he is in the neighbourhood of the Moon. "The Sun, with all his attending planets, is but a very little part of the grand machine of the universe. Every star, though in appearance no bigger than the diamond that glitters upon a lady's ring, is really a vast globe, like the sun in size and glory; no less spacious, no less luminous, than the radiant source of our day. So that every star is not barely a world, but the centre of a magnificent system; has a retinue of worlds, irradiated by its beams, and revolving round its attractive influence; all which are lost to our sight in unmeasurable wilds of ether. That the stars appear like so many diminutive and scarce-distinguishable points, is owing to their immense and inconceivable distance. Immense and inconceivable indeed it is; since a ball, shot from the loaded cannon, and flying with unabated rapidity, must travel at this impetuous rate, almost seven hundred thousand years, before it could reach the nearest of those twinkling luminaries.

"Can any thing be more wonderful than these observations? Yes; there are truths far more stupendous, there are scenes far more extensive. As there is no end of the Almighty Maker's greatness, so no imagination can set limits to his creating hand. Could you soar beyond the moon, and pass through all the planetary choir; could you wing your way to the highest apparent star, and take your stand on one of the loftiest pinnacles of heaven; you would there see other skies expanded; another sun distributing his inexhaustible beams by day; other stars that gild the horrors of the alternate night; and other, perhaps nobler, systems, established in unknown profusion, through the boundless dimensions of space. Nor does the dominion of the universal Sovereign terminate there. Even at the end of this vast tour, you will find yourself advanced no farther than the suburbs of creation; arrived only at the frontiers of the great Jehovah's kingdom."—Hervey.

30

JUVENILE OBITUARY.

DIED, September 16th, 1835, at Sheepland, in the Lecale Mission, Ireland, George Gill, aged twenty-six. From the first introduction of Methodism into Lecale, which is now upwards of sixty years ago, the Preachers have been hospitably entertained, first at the house of his grandfather, and then at that of his father; so that he had not only the advantages of parental instruction, but frequent opportunities of counsel from the Ministers of God's word. Early in 1831 he became concerned about his soul, began to meet in class, and in the following summer obtained a sense of the pardoning mercy of God. From this time he went forward in the divine life, and, as he had opportunity, laid himself out for usefulness, holding prayer-meetings, distributing tracts, and earnestly exhorting all his friends who had been negligent in religion, to yield a prompt and full obedience to the invitations of the Gospel. Thus uniting consistent piety with active zeal, hopes were entertained that in the course of his life he would be made a great blessing to many. It was, however, otherwise appointed. About a month before he died, he caught a violent cold, which issued in severe inflammation of the lungs. At one time there appeared a prospect of his recovery; but this was soon overcast, and it became evident that he was fast approaching his latter end. He suffered much, but patiently; and exhorted all who visited him to embrace the love of God through Jesus Christ. He himself rested entirely on the atonement; and to the last rejoiced in that hope of the glory of God which he was enabled to exercise, because "the Spirit witnessed with his spirit that he was a child of God."

He

Daniel, brother to the above George Gill, died on the 8th of October, aged twenty-two. The admonitions and example of George had been made useful to Daniel three or four years before he died. He then saw and felt himself a lost sinner, and earnestly sought a personal and direct interest in the blood of Christ. was not long before he found the blessing which he sought, and rejoiced that God was become his salvation. Like his brother he embraced all opportunities of usefulness that presented themselves; and, being threatened with consumption, and visiting the county of Antrim for change of air, the Lord blessed his various conversations to the spiritual good of many. The unexpected death of his brother very much affected him, and seemed to hasten the fatal termination of his own disorder. His mind was kept in great peace. The mild and patient frame which submitted in all things to the will of God never forsook him; and he at last calmly fell asleep in Christ.

Ellen, their sister, had died not quite two years before her brothers, being only twenty-two at the time of her death. She had been a member of the Methodist society about two years; and though during her short illness her sufferings were great, so was her consolation also. She died very happy in God.

Such instances of youthful mortality are very admonitory. They tell the young that they must die, and show them how de