of possessions-therefore is money bad. In its place, wine is good excellent. We have spoken of it in a former number of our Journal. Beer too, is good; many people cannot live without it. Spirits, likewise, taken medicinally, are equally good. If we are asked-do we individually indulge in these things? we say "no" simply because we know we are better without them. There are times, when one or two glasses of wine are perfect cordials to our stomach; times too, when rambling in the country, that a glass of genuine home-brewed ale is quite a luxury to us; and other times, when a glass of diluted spirits are equally acceptable and wholesome. We do not drink to excess; nor do we ever eat to excess. And, if we speak truth, we believe 20s. would abundantly pay for all the wine, ale, and spirits that we annually consume. But this is not the question.

We say, let a man by all means abstain from taking any and everything that he thinks objectionable; but don't let him

a

It would seem, that beer possesses wonderful excellencies. Madame Pasta, the great singer, was passionately fond of "half and half," and Madame Malibran yearned earnestly for porter. Of the latter, Bunn, the theatrical manager, tells us an apposite anecdote. It seems (for he was a savage brute) that he had quarrelled with the Prima Donna in the morning :-"I went into her dressing-room previous to the commencement of the third act of the Maid of Artois, to ask how she felt and she replied Very tired, but (and here her eye of fire suddenly lighted up) you angry dl, if you will contrive to get me pint of porter in the desert scene, you shall have an encore to your finale.' Had I been dealing with any other performer, I should perhaps have hesitated in complying with a request that might have been dangerous in its application at the moment; but to check her powers were to annihilate them. I therefore arranged that, behind the pile of drifted sand on which she falls in a state of exhaustion, towards the close of the desert scene, a small aperture should be made in the stage, and it is a fact that, from underneath the stage, through that aperture, a pewter pint of porter was conveyed to the parched lips of this rare child of song; which so revived her, after the terrible exertion the scene led to, that she electrified the audience, and had strength to repeat the charm, with the finale to the Maid of Artois. The novelty of the circumstance so tickled her fancy, and the draught itself was so extremely refreshing, that it was arranged, during the subsequent run of the opera, for the negro slave, at the head of the governor's procession, to have in the gourd suspended to his neck the same quantity of the same beverage, to be applied to her lips, on his first beholding the apparently dying Isoline."-We imagine that "total abstinence, ," in cases of physical exhaustion, goes but a very little way.-ÉD. K. J.

promise. We consider it morally wrong to do it; for we must all know how irreligiously such a pledge is kept. Nay, we see how it is broken daily. The pledge encourages hypocrisy; therefore is it that we turn our back upon it. All things are good in their places, and were sent for our use. It is the abuse of them that works so much moral evil.*

No person who reads OUR JOURNAL, can have failed to recognise our principle of action. We detest excess in anything, and contend for the mens sana in corpore sanoa sound mind in a healthy body. Nor is ours a mere theory; we practice what we preach to the very letter. Water is our favorite; almost our only drink--and it agrees with us so well, that we want no other. Of water, we think as favorably as did that old veteran, Dr. Cheyne. Water," says he, "C was the primitive original beverage, as it is the only simple fluid for diluting, moistening, and coolingthe ends of drink appointed by nature. And happy had it been for the race of mankind, if other mixed and artificial liquors had been never invented. It has been an agreeable appearance to me, to observe with what freshness and vigor those who, though eating freely of flesh meat, yet drink nothing but this element, have lived in health and cheerfulness to a great age."- Still, we "pledge" ourself to nothing. Good sense always decides us; and whatever we know does not agree with us, that we avoid, either in meats or drinks. Why cannot others do the same? Do not even beasts, wild and tame, know when they have had sufficient? And do they not avoid all that is foreign to their stomachs? assuredly they do.

It happens, unfortunately for the advocates of total abstinence, that we reside in the immediate thoroughfare leading to Hampton Court. The number of "total abstinence professors' who pass our house in vans, during the summer season, is immense. It is curious to observe how quiet they are, and how orderly on their way down-singing hymns, &c. How much more curious it is to see, or rather hear them on their returnthe pledge broken, their throats full of ribaldry, and their stomachs full of "the enemy." Alas! poor human nature!

But let us not slight the little pamphlet of Mr. Edward Baines. It contains some

* The cause of temperance is sadly injured by the publication of many abusive tracts, issued by certain ignorant " Leagues." One of them, sent to us recently, has this passage in it-"I challenge any man who understands the nature of ardent spirits, and yet continues to be engaged in the traffic, to show that he is not involved in the guilt of murder !-ED. K. J.

good sense; and the writer is evidently actuated by much kindly feeling. He

says:

I did not adopt total abstinence owing to any illness or tendency to disease, nor because liquor was any considerable temptation to me. I had always used it moderately. My sole object was a desire to induce some whom I knew, by example, to abandon an indulgence which was leading them to ruin. And it seemed to me, that if I could do without strong drink, other persons in ordinary health might do the same. My constitution is not robust; on the contrary, I have from childhood been rather pale and thin. Therefore the experiment of total abstinence seemed in me a very fair one. I was an average subject. Many of my friends even thought that needed a little wine; dissuaded me from giving it up; and mourned over my unwise persistence. I myself had the prejudice that it helped digestion. Well, I tried the experiment-first for a month, then for another month, till at length I learned to laugh at the prejudices of myself and my friends; and in the consciousness of firm health and good spirits, I have continued the practice to the present day.

Within fifteen years of life, one passes through various circumstances, which would be likely to try the merits of any regimen. But I have never felt as if strong drink would help me in any of those circumstances;-certainly not in protracted study. As certainly not in the prolonged and exciting public meeting; not in active business, however pressing; not in travelling, by night or by day; not in pedestrian rambles on the mountains of Cumberland or Wales; not in the cold of winter; not in the heat of summer; not in the raw damp of intermediate seasons; not in the morning, not at noon, nor yet at night. Not in anxiety and trouble; not in joy and social intercourse. I need it in none of these circumstances; it would do me mischief in many. It might cloud my intellect, or excite my brain, or disorder my stomach, or cause local inflammation more or less serious. There are those who think that wine or beer is needful, whenever they feel fatigued or exhausted. But surely nature provides her own restorative at a much easier and cheaper rate. He who is tired should rest. He who is weary should sleep. He who is exhausted should take wholesome food or innocent beverages. He who is closely confined should take air and exercise. I repeat that, in my own case, alcoholic drinks are never necessary, and would never do me good.

I claim no merit for total abstinence-1st, because it is no privation. A total abstainer does not care or think about liquor, at least after the first few days or weeks, he forgets it. 2ndly, because I am firmly convinced that a total abstainer has more physical comfort, and even more gratification for his palate, than he who takes liquors. The digestive organs being generally in a healthier state, he enjoys food and innocent beverages with greater relish. If he loses the pungency of strong drink, he also escapes its painful consequences. 3rdly, because abstinence from liquor is no mean saving of money, which may be so much better applied. 4thly, because

it is a still more important saving of precious time; and 5thly, because it obviously keeps men out of many dangers and temptations. Therefore, in my judgment, enlightened self-interestnay, an enlightened regard for mere physical enjoyment, might make a man give up strong drink.

If a man

These arguments are admirable; and we second them, joyfully. Only do the humbug of "the pledge," and advocate with away temperance; then we are satisfied. But never set aside the use of reason. possesses no self-control over his passions, no pledge that he may take, however solemn, Teach him, will ever keep him honest. first, to love nature; and show him how temperate everything is-but himself. This will set him" thinking," His reason convinced, the battle is already three parts won. Then let him listen to Charles Swain, and he will need no further "pledge:"

Let the Sun be thy nectar!
Drink deep of its beams;
Let the greensward of nature
Thy banquet-hall be!
Fill thy spirit with sunlight,-
"Tis richer than streams
Of the wine-flowing goblet,

And better for thee!

Let the Sun be thy nectar;
"Tis next to divine!
Where's a vintage more golden
To gladden thine eyes?
What's the charm of the goblet,
The grace of the vine,
Compared to a banquet

Thus brought from the skies?

Oh! air of the mountain!
Best wine of the world!-
Enrich'd with the sweetness
Of nature alone,-
I drink of thy spirit,

With sun-gems impearl'd;
And challenge Man's vintage
To equal thine own!

THE THRUSH'S NEST.

BY JOHN CLARE.

Within a thick and spreading hawthorn bush,
That overhangs a molehill large and round,
I hear from morn to morn a merry thrush
Sing hymns to sunrise; and I drink the sound
With joy; and, often an intruding guest,

I watch her secret toils from day to day. How true she warped the moss, to form a nest, And modelled it within with wood and clay! And by and by, like heath-bells gilt with dew,

There lay her shining eggs, as bright as flowers, Ink-spotted over shells of greeny blue!

And there I witness in the sunny hours,
A brood of Nature's minstrels chirp and fly,
Glad as that sunshine and the laughing sky!

NATURE AND ART.

In vain with love our bosoms glow,
Can all our tears, can all our sighs,
New lustre to those charms impart?
Can checks, where living roses blow,
Where NATURE spreads her richest dyes,
Require the borrow'd gloss of ART?

"GOD MADE THE COUNTRY; AND MAN THE TOWN," sings one of our sweetest poets. How does our heart echo to his lovely sentiment!

What a delicious thing it is, in the midst of a "London season"-as the frequenters of Almacks' denominate it-to take a run into the country! To breathe the fresh air -to enjoy tranquillity, for at least a time and to find one's-self all alone, at some nice little village, some twenty or thirty miles from the metropolis, where one is wholly unknown; and where, therefore, one may give one's-self up to the wild vagaries of one's own mind and imagination, and indulge any innocent whim or feeling, without being called to a rigid account by your formal or fashionable friends.

Let our reader fancy himself in such a case; seated in some romantic bower, commanding a beautiful, though, it may be, con fined view; the cawing rooks and cuckoo's voice, instead of the rumbling of carts and coaches; the shrill crow of chanticleer, instead of the shouts and screams of a pack of noisy little urchins, who almost block up the thoroughfare of the street; the painted canvass of the mimic scene at a theatre, it may be, changed for the real rich luxurious trees, where every branch

Is musical with birds, that sing and sport, In wantonness of spirit; the songs of insects in the glade

Try their thin wings, and dance in the warm beam

That wak'd them into life.

Oh, yes! it is indeed delicious to find one's self in the midst of tranquil nature-to look back upon the thoughts of a noisy world, and give one's-self up to meditation in such a scene as this, where

Even the green trees
Partake the deep contentment, as they bend
To the soft winds; the sun from the blue sky
Looks in, and sheds a blessing on the scene:
Scarce less the cleft-born wild-flower seems to
enjoy

Existence, than the winged plunderer
That sucks its sweets.

In the midst of enjoyment like this, it really does seem folly-if not madness, to make this the season for London gaiety. Yet it is true, that at the very moment the country is budding into beauty, everybody is hurrying away from it, and entering the crowded streets of London! What a strange thing it

is, that amongst those studiers of pleasure, the votaries of fashion, they have not yet discovered a mode of adapting their pleasures to the course of nature, enjoying all her beauties when they are most luxuriant, and seeking shelter in the crowded city when winter has robbed her of her charms!

The English, we really believe, are the only people who are guilty of this folly; and it is guilt to neglect the many pleasures with

which the beneficent Creator has endued all

the works of his unerring hand.

How many heart-burnings would be avoided by a pursuit of nature in her woodlands, instead of gaiety in society! Those, too, who are oppressed with care, fly to the convivial enjoyments of the table; to the crowded ball or rout, as a temporary relief, or rather forgetfulness of their cares. these come back with redoubled force with the reaction of their waking thoughts. Let them try another course, and

But

Shall bring a kindred calm-and the sweet breeze

That makes the green leaves dance, shall waft a balm

These

To the sick heart. It will find nothing here Of all that pained it in the haunts of men. But leaving the sentiments of flowers, and green trees, and sylvan solitude-let us look at nature as the great instructress. trees, with their budding leaves, their umbrageous branches, their varied-colored barks, are beautiful. But every leaf and the planter-to the sower and the reaper, bud bears a lesson to the agriculturist and of which few, if any of them, reap the benefit. They depict the proper time for sowing and planting; and thus an accurate observation of them, by a prudent husbandman, may tend to produce that plenty which lays the best foundation of the public welfare and happiness.

In Sweden, the budding and leafing of the birch tree is always considered as the directory for sowing barley. No one can deny that the same power which brings forth the leaves of trees, will make grain vegetate; for the law of nature operates on the whole of it. The husbandman, therefore, cannot do better than take his rule for sowing from the leafing of trees.

Linnæus, in the most earnest manner, exhorted his countrymen, to observe with all care and diligence at what time each tree expanded its buds, and unfolded its leaves; imagining, and not without reason, that some time or other his country would derive the greatest benefit from observations of this kind made in different years. The ignorant farmer, tenacious of the ways of his ances

A

tors, guided by custom, instead of observation, fixes his sowing season generally by the month or week; without considering whether the earth be in a proper state. close observation of those productions, in which nature works herself spontaneouslyand nature being invariably guided by the state of the seasons and the earth-would afford in time an infallible rule to him, and prevent "the sower sowing with sweat, what the reaper reaps with sorrow."

It is true that nobody has, as yet, been able to show what trees providence has intended should be our calendar. The hints of Linnæus, however, constitute a universal rule; for trees and shrubs bud, leaf, flower, and shed their leaves in every country, according to the differences of the seasons. Stillingfleet is the only man who has attempted a Calendar; but the farmer who would use the sublime idea of Linnæus, should himself mark the time of budding, leafing, and flowering of different plants.

Let not the philosopher, in the depth of his astronomy, nor the moralist, in his studies of human nature, look with contempt upon scenes and circumstances that can afford such instruction as trees and flowers. And what a sublime idea-to construct from such observations a grammar, as it were, of nature to make every flower operate as an example, and every leaf to bear a lesson!

TO THE EARLY VIOLET. BY W. BARKER.

Bashful flower of azure hue !

Breathing perfume, gemm'd with dew;
Sweetest of the glorious train
Spring has scattered o'er the plain,
Brightest in his coronet-

Welcome, early violet!

Northern winds no longer blow,
Melted is both ice and snow;
Ancient trees begin to bud,
Music rings through every wood,
And the sparkling streams flash on
With a silver singing tone,
Whilst the ruby-spotted trout
From his still pool leapeth out;
Where the gauze-wing'd insects play
In the sun's reviving ray,

Blooms-like earth-born stars, are seen,
Spangling all the meadows green.
In the wild wood paths behold
Yellow primroses unfold,-
And the hare bell lifts her head-
And the kingcup brood is spread-
And the daisy, way-side flower,
Opens wide at early hour-
And the scarlet pimpernel
Joyously expands her cell;
But of all the host so fair
Loveliest beyond compare-
Turquoise amid emeralds set-
First art thou, meek Violet!

Now amid the long grass hiding,
Where some bubbling brook goes chiding;
Now close to the old briar's root,
Now low at the grey rock's foot,
Now deep in the hawthorn glen,-
Ever shrinking from our ken,
Only by their scent we know
Where the odorous blossoms grow.
Often thus has holy worth
In secluded scenes its birth-
Often thus is genius found
Denizen of bleakest ground;

And hearts touched with heavenly fire,
In obscurity expire!

When the morning's crystal dew
Glistens in thy chalice blue,
Ere the sun has kissed it dry-
Like Joy's tear in Beauty's eye-
Or when parting clouds have shed
Freshness round thy velvet bed;-
Or mild evening's moisture cool
Studs thy petals beautiful,

Each faint breeze that o'er thee blows
Scatters odor where it goes,
And sweeping on in current free,
Fragrance gains by wooing thee-
Such as thou dost always fling,
Bud of promise, flower of Spring,
And throughout the genial time,
Night, or noon, or hour of prime.

Roses rich let others seek,
I will cull the Violet meek;
Lilies bright let others praise,
Flaunting in the summer rays;
Roses cloth'd in crimson rare,
Cannot with thy flower compare;
Neither can the lilies claim,
In their robes of gold and flame,
Perfume like My Violet-
Fairest gem in Spring's wreath set!

Flower resembling Helen's eye,
In thy purity of dye-

Flower that shrinkest into shade,
Like the coy retiring maid-
Thee I'll always laud and praise
In my rude unstudied lays.
And because thou fadest soon,
Withered by the glowing noon-
For thee we will obtain a throne
Ariel's self might proudly own.

Go! on "my love's " bosom lie,
There, exhaling sweetness, die !
So honor'd thou couldst not repine-
Ah, WOULD THE BLISSFUL DOOM WERE MINE!

PROSPERITY AND ADVERSITY.

TALK of the love that outlives adversity! the love that remains with prosperity is a thousand times more rare. The one is the keen, but bracing north wind of existence, that invigorates and nerves for exertion; the other is the enervating hot-breath of summer, which sicklies and weakens our best resolves; making us feverish, captious, and suspicious even of those we love best.