in consequence of the crumbling to pieces of the heavy clods of the field by the expansion of the frozen moisture within them.

Now the vegetable kingdom lies snug and comfortable under the snow, the roots of herbaceous plants are safe under ground, ready at the return of warmth to throw up their young shoots. The soft and tender parts of shrubs and trees are wrapped up in hard buds, the

larger kind of which-such as those of the horse-chesnut, the sycamore, and the lime-are covered with a sort of resin, which resists the most intense cold. Sometimes, however, a tree which is less securely guarded than its fellows by those kind provisions of Nature, has its juices frozen and it then splits asunder by the formation of the ice, and perishes. By the end of the month the buds of the woodbine seem ready to expand, the winter aconite and bear's-foot are often in flower, and the snowdrop pushes up its head above the snow. On mild days the slug, or shelless snail, is more about, to the in

jury of the young wheat and garden plants. The bodies of these animals are covered with slime, as she whale is with blubber; this non-conducting substance enables them to withstand the cold.

The farmer is active in the frost.-His team moves over the frozen fields as easily as on the high road; he therefore carries out manure to his fields, or he lops his timber, or repairs hedges. The labourer keeps himself warm in the barn by his flail.

But how do the feathered tribes get on in the severe, hard-hearted frost? Doubtless, thousands of them die in severe weather of cold and hunger; but yet millions contrive to get through it. Blackbirds, thrushes, and fieldfares nestle together on banks and under hedges,

and frequent the vicinity of towns. Larks find shelter in the warm stable, and tribes of small birds courageously surround our houses, and take possession of our farm-yards, in search of food. The yellowhammer, the chaffinch, but especially the audacious sparrow, be set

our path, and seem to claim a share in our food, while the friendly redbreast seeks and finds a welcome everywhere.

berries, and others who are by no means particular, changing their food to accommodate the change of season; while some of the fourfooted race among the woods fall into a death-like torpor, and sleep away their time. But the nimble squirrel may be seen now and then issuing from her hole, frisking for a short time close to the mouth of it, just when the sun shines.

In the house, in the mansion, the cottage, all is, or ought to be, joy and festivity. We are, on the first of January, in the very lap of old Father Christmas. There is above a week yet to come of rejoicing and frolic, from the first of January to old Christmas Day. And the great iced twelfth-cakes stand glorious in the shop windows, and the holly with its red berries, and the fond ivy, still stick about our houses, to maintain the recollection of the seasonable feastivities. But the Twelfth-cake!-one word more about the twelfth-cake. I love to see an acre of cake spread out with oldfashioned hospitality, studded all over with glittering flowers, like ice-plants, and red and green knots of sweetmeats, and hollow yellow-crusted crowns, and kings and queens and their paraphernalia. I delight to see scores of happy

children, sitting all with bright eyes round the dainty fare, eyeing the cake and each other, with faces sunny enough to thaw the white snow. I like to see the joy and silence which is kept religiously while the large knife goes its round, and the glistening eyes that feed

beforehand on the hugh slices, dark and rich with citron and plums, and then when the characters are drawn, is it nothing to watch the peeping delight which escapes from their twinkling eyes?-one is proud as king, another stately as queen. Then there are two whisper

12

SOMETHING ABOUT THE MONTH OF JANUARY.

ing secrets that they cannot contain:-these are Sir Gregor and Sir Tunbelly Clumsy. The boys laugh out at their o fortunes, but the little girls, almost ashamed of their prizes, s ing and silent. It is not until the lady of the house goes ro some of the more extravagant fictions are revealed; and then roar of mirth!-Ha! ha! ha! from the boys, and He! he! h the girls. The ceiling shakes, and the air is torn-they bou their seats like kids, and insist on seeing Miss Simpson's card what merry spite is proclaimed-what ostentatious pity! Th girl is almost in tears; but the large lump of allotted cake is seasonably in her hands, and the glass of sweet wine all round the shrill urchins' laughter, and a gentler delight prevails twelve days of Christmas feasting are at last over; then foll holidays, and then "Black Monday," a sad day to dunces; but say to all

"When Christmas is ended,

Bid feasting adieu;
Go play the good scholar,

Thy stock to renew,

Be mindful of reading,

In hope of a gain;

Dame Profit shall give thee

Reward for thy pain."