of flesh-formers, and 734 ounces of heatgivers; whilst that of the Dorsetshire agricultural laborer is given as 204 ounces of the flesh-formers, and 513 ounces of heat givers. The Gloucestershire peasant is better off, his diet being superior in nutritive value to that of the Greenwich pensioner. The City Workhouse, Edinburgh, enjoys the unenviable position of issuing the lowest of above forty public diet-tables in different countries, it containing but 13:30 ounces of flesh-formers, and 31 ounces of heat-givers-the latter being about one-half only of the quantity which even the Hindoo cultivator in Dharwar, Bombay, is able to procure! From the quantity of these flesh-formers in food, we may gather some idea of the rate of change which takes place in the body. Now, a man whose weight is 140 pounds, has about 4 pounds of flesh in his blood, 27 pounds in his muscular substance, &c., and 5 pounds of a material analogous to flesh in his bones. A soldier or sailor eats these 37 pounds in about eighteen weeks; so that this period might represent the time required to change and replace all the tissues of the body, if all changed with equal rapidity, which, however, is improbable. THE ART OF REASONING. A SECRET WORTH KNOWING. TO REASON WELL, is not so easy a matter as it is supposed to be. For one reasoner, we have one thousand cavillers, and disputers about terms-words positively wasted in idle nonsense. Apropos of this subject, are a few brief remarks in our excellent contemporary The Critic. They are so much in unison with our own sentiments, that we gladly give them a place in a JOURNAL devoted to "thought." We are not quite sure, says our contemporary, that reasoning is an art. It is not a mechanical process at all. It is an act of the mind; by which it advances ir resistibly from certain things known, to infer other things unknown to it. This process and its results we cannot prevent or control. We may close our eyes to them; we may try not to recognise a conclusion that is in convenient; but the mind is not the less conscious of it-and this consciousness it is that makes persons, who doubt anything they want to believe, so fiercely to persecute those who make them uncomfortable by opposing the belief which they profess. No man who is confident in the conclusions of his own mind, and who thoroughly believes because he is truly convinced, was ever yet a persecutor, or desirous of preventing opponents from being heard. Convinced that he holds the truth, he never avoids discussion; knowing that the more it is investigated the more manifest will that truth become. A CHORUS OF FLOWERS. Hear our tiny voices, hear! Lower than the night-wind's sighs; "Tis we that to the sleeper's ear Sing dreams of Heaven's melodies! Look on our beauty-we were born Or that sweet light that loves the West! Look upon the face of flow'rsWhat beauty is there like to ours? You think us happy while we bloom, So lovely to your mortal eye;But we have hearts, and there's a tomb Where ev'n a flow'ret's peace may lie! Listen to the songs of flow'rsWhat melody is like to ours? Hear our tiny voices, hear! Lower than the night-wind's sighs,— "Tis we that to the sleeper's ear Sing dreams of Heaven's melodies! NOTES ON ENGLAND. BY AN AMERICAN. IN A BOOK RECENTLY PUBLISHED, entitled "A Month in England," the author, H. T. Tuckerman (an American), makes one or two singular observations. Being correct as singular, we transplant them to our columns. First let us listen to his analysis of AN ENGLISH AUTHOR'S BRAINS. I realised, when housed in London, "why" it was a city so favorable to brain-work. The exciting transitions of temperature, which keep Transatlantic nerves on the stretch, are seldom experienced in that humid atmosphere. The prevalence of clouds is favorable to abstraction. The reserve and individuality of English life, surrounded but never invaded by the multitude, gives singular intensity to reflection. Baffled without, we naturally seek excitement within. electric current of thought and emotion flashes more readily because it is thus compressed. The spectacle of concentrated human life and its daily panorama incites the creative powers. The We are not often won to vagrant moods by those alluring breezes that steal in at our casement at Rome, or tempted to stroll away from book and pen by the cheerful groups that enliven the sunny Boulevards; and therefore, according to the inevitable law of compensa tion, we build castles in the air in self-defence, and work veins of argument, or seek pearls of expression, with rare patience, beneath the smoky canopy and amid the ceaseless hubbub of London. Accordingly, there is hardly a street that is not associated with an author. Their very names are redolent of pencraft; and how delightful to wander through them, unconscious of the heartless throng, oblivious of the stranger's lot, with the heart filled by the endeared images of these intellectual benefactors! The disguised caliphs enjoyed no higher pastime. Aladdin's lamp transmuted not vulgar objects into a more golden substance. We luxuriate in the choicest society, without the drawback of etiquette; we revive the dreams of youth We while in the very bustle of the world. practically realise what a kingdom the mind is, without any technical aid." We are not disposed to differ from the author in his calculations on the effects produced by our odd climate on the human brain. No doubt he is right. So also is he in the subjoined extract on THE STATE OF ART IN ENGLAND. Nature herself has abridged the artistic development of England. Her climate is unfavorable to ideal achievement, and to that elemental harmony between atmosphere, light, and temperature, and the purposes and effects of the artist, which render Italy and Greece a paradise in comparison. A dome or a column should paint itself against a densely blue sky, to be truly effective. A cadenza should ring through such a crystal air as hangs over Naples or Mexico, to reveal its sweetest melody; and color, to be transparent and vivid, must be studied where the purple evening mantles with radiant hues the Adriatic Sea. Marble grows black, and bronze corrodes, in England, when exposed to air. How like a fossil coal looks Canning's form; and what a sooty hue invests Nelson, as the metal and the stone have become superficially decomposed by moisture! Half the time, we must shiver instead of being cheered at the sight and sound of a fountain; and walking round St. Paul's the walls look as if snow and soot had alternately drifted against them-especially the latter. The chiaroscuro made by smoke, gas, and drizzle, do not promote a desirable relievo in objects architectural or statuesque. The absence of the sun, keeps invisible the more delicate touches of Leonardo and the finer tints of Claude on the noble's wall; and even the daguerreotypist must watch, like the fogshrouded navigator on the banks, for days before he can 66 get the sun." In such a climate, great thinkers and indefatigable artisans prosper. But Art must be aided by pilgrimages to clearer horizons; and to latitudes where the firmament is oftener visible.. At home, it will inevitably require the hotbed of munificent patronage." My heart has yearned like other hearts, I mark the names of more than one, But there are green trees on the rill, And there are sunbeams rich and fair, I'm glad I learnt to love the things But be we sad, or be we gay, With thick curls bright, or thin locks grey, My Old Companions,-changeless still! MORE ABOUT INSTINCT. THE "BUSY BEE." Say,-where full instinct is the unerring guide, W РОРЕ, E HAVE RECENTLY GIVEN SOME MOST INTERESTING PROOFS OF THE INSTINCT IN PLANTS from the pages of Dr. Kemp. We are so very much pleased with the same author's remarks on Bees, that, as those little winged messengers of active industry are just now peeping out to reconnoitre, we will borrow a few more interesting particulars about the Queen-bee and the instinct perceivable in the working-bees. INSTINCT OF HONEY BEES. The instinctive movements of bees, in relation to one another and to their posterity, are almost incredible; but the evidence of such is unquestionable. Foremost amongst them, are the proceedings of the queen-mother. Two queens cannot exist in the same hive; and if a couple of them chance to do so, either from a stranger queen coming in, or a young one being hatched, a battle is immediately fought; in which one is sure to perish. In the former case, i.e.. when a stranger queen is introduced into a hive that already contains one, an extraordinary scene takes place. A circle of bees instinctly crowd around the invader, not, however, to attack her-for a worker never assaults a queen-but to respectfully prevent her escape, in order that a combat may take place between her and their reigning monarch! The lawful possessor then advances towards the part of the comb where the invader has established herself, the attendant workers clear a space for the encounter, and, without interfering, wait the result. A fearful encounter then ensues, in which one is stung to death; the survivor mounting the throne. Although the workers of a de facto monarch will not fight for her defence, yet, if they perceive a strange queen attempting to enter the hive, they will surround her, and hold her until she is starved to death; but such is their respect for royalty that they never attempt to sting her! If the hive lose their queen, strange proceedings take place as the young queen assumes the perfect or imago state. The first one that becomes thus developed almost immediately proceeds to the royal cells, and darts upon the first that she espies. She gnaws a hole in it, through which she inserts her sting, and thereby destroys her embryo rivals. A number of workers accompany her, but do not venture to offer any opposition to her violence; and indeed, after the murder is committed, they enlarge the breach and extract the dead body. It sometimes happens that two young queens attain perfection at the same time; and in such a case, they afford indication of another and very peculiar instinct. At first the instinct of fighting prevails, and they dart upon one another with a fury that seems to threaten death to both; and head is opposed to head, and sting to VOL. V.-10. sting. But the moment that they come into this position, a sudden panic seizes them, and both fly. They soon return, and the same scene is repeated over and over again; until one young queen in the advance seizes the other by the wing, and then inflicts a mortal wound. By this instinct the two do not perish; and thus the hive is prevented from wanting a queen. All this is performed before they are perhaps five minutes old! The workers, however, do often prevent the queen from attacking and destroying the royal grubs; but this is only before she has come out of her cell and assumed authority. her confined until she is perfectly able to lead a They keep swarm; and even when they do let her out, they hinder her from destroying her immature royal sister, a proceeding she is much bent upon. She then becomes violently agitated, and inclined to lead a swarm, the members of which follow her. This proceeding only takes place in full hives; and when the hive is thin in numbers, and it is not desirable to send out new colonies, the workers let the queens destroy one another, as before mentioned. If the queen die, or be removed from a hive, the population do not appear to discern their loss for about an hour. At the expiration of this time, a degree of restlessness begins to manifest itself; the bees run to and fro, and those that first begin to do so, strike the others with their antennæ, and apparently communicate the news and disorder. All soon becomes in a very confused state, work is neglected, and the bees continually pass in and out of the hive. The tumult lasts for some hours, after which the bees become quiet, and proceed to fill some of the cells with jelly, and, as before mentioned, rear up neuter larvæ into queens. If, however, the queen be restored to them, their joy is excessive, and manifested. Another remarkable fact connected with the instincts of the bees is, that the queen some times, apparently from disease, becomes incapable of laying eggs that will turn out workers; all the eggs that she does lay hatching into drones. When this is the case, she loses the propensity to attack other queens in this manner the community is not suffered to die out, for want of new laborers; and yet her subjects in no degree diminish their respect to her." The drones are, in ordinary cases, put to death by the workers when they are about two months old. This they do by stinging them; but in the case just mentioned, where the queen lays male eggs only, their instincts teach the workers to let the drones live-and they do not attack them. As soon as a working bee has attained its perfec or imago state, it seeks for the door of the hive and instantly sets out, quite capable of fulfilling all its destinies! The hum made by its wings ceases at the first flower it arrives at, into which it enters; and, rubbing its tongue between the petals and stamens, sweeps out all the nectar, which it deposits in its honey-bag. When, having passed from flower to flower, this honey-bag is full, it takes from the anther the pollen necessary to make the bread for the pupa, and it also gathers propolis. It will have flown, perhaps, a mile before it has got laden. It then returns uniformly in a straight line to its hive. Arrived there, it imparts to its after use. comrades, who have been engaged at home, what nutriment they require, and stores up the rest for It then rests for a few minutes, and again departs on its food-collecting errand. In like manner it arrives into being, perfectly able to perform all its other instinctive actions without requiring the slightest education! Perhaps not among the least surprising of these, are the contrivances of the bees for ventilating the hive. A bee-hive, as may easily be fancied, is apt to get both heated and corrupted by foul air. In order to obtain a supply of fresh and pure air, a number of the workers, often about twenty, station themselves in a file upon the floor. They hold very firm to the ground; and "by means of their marginal hooks, unite each pair of wings into one plane, slightly concave-thus acting upon the air by a surface nearly as large as possible, and forming for them a pair of very ample fans, which in their vibrations describe an angle of 60°." They vibrate these fans with such rapidity, that the wings are scarcely visible. By this operation, a very perceptible current of air is driven into the hive, which of course displaces the corrupt air. The warlike undertakings of bees are amusing. Dreadful deeds are sometimes to be witnessed in a hive; and probably depend upon one of the workers having become old, and not so active as before, and another one trying to kill him. These encounters occasionally end in the death of both combatants; sometimes one slays the other, and sometimes, after fighting for an hour or more, they give up by mutual consent. Occasionally, general battles take place between the occupants of two hives. A hive may attempt to plunder the honey of another; and when this is the case, the bees composing it at first act with caution, and a few of them linger about the door of the hive intended to be pillaged. After a little, the whole robbers come in a body, and a fearful battle ensues. the invaders can succeed in killing the queen, the attacked join with them, assist in plundering their former house, and then depart home with the robbers. If a Occasionally four or five bees unite together, and attack either a straggling hive bee or humble bee. Their object is merely to rob him of his honey. They hold him by the legs and pinch him until he unfolds his tongue; which is sucked in succession by his assailants, who then suffer him to depart in peace. On the other hand, bees are themselves exposed to many assailants. The common wasp often attacks their hives on a pilfering expedition, and, owing to his size and courage, is a formidable thief: one wasp being able to fight three bees. On some occasions, the wasps drive the bees out bodily, take possession of their hive, and, of course, eat all their honey. A still more formidable opponent is found in the larvæ of Tinea mellonella, and other species of moths, who spend the early part of their lives in the hives, where they consume large quantities of food. They spin a silken tube around them, through which the stings of the bees cannot penetrate. The bees, however, take great pains to keep the moths out of their hives, and thus prevent the possibility of their laying eggs in them. They put sentinels at night, who, on the approach of the moth, utter a low hum which brings assistance, and the moth is stung to death. The death-hawk moth, which is almost as large as a common bat, sometimes makes its way into hives, where it commits great havoc. To defend themselves against it, the bees barricade the entrance of their hives with a strong wall made of wax and propolis. The wall is built behind the gateway, which it completely stops up, and is only pierced with a hole that will admit one or two workers. This erection is only put up in extreme emergencies, but is a striking example of an instinct. Is not all this truly wonderful? Let us express the earnest hope, that our younger readers in particular will make these matters a pleasing subject of study. The delight derivable from such studies, is really inappreciable. MY FRIEND "JACK !" OR THE LIFE OF A TAME SQUIRREL. ONE FINE AFTERNOON at the end of September, we were engaged in picking up walnuts under a fine tree which grew on our lawn; when my brother saw a fine young squirrel seated on a branch over his head, busily engaged in eating and shelling the nuts. We immediately picked up some horse-chesnuts, intending to pelt him away; and threw several at him. But he took no other notice of our efforts to dislodge him, than chattering and stamping at a furious rate. At last, my brother threw one with such good aim, that it struck him on his head between his eyes, and brought him down rather quicker than he went up. On taking him up and finding he was only stunned (though, from the force of the blow, one would have supposed he would have been killed outright), we immediately conveyed him in doors, and bathed his head with water; hoping we should succeed in restoring him to his senses. After a quarter of an hour's careful attention, the poor little fellow began minutes made some attempts to bite. On this, to show some signs of life; and in a few we thought it highly necessary to put him into confinement; lest, by biting the fingers of his captors, he should make his escape. Accordingly, a box was procured; in the lid of which, some holes (of the diameter of half an inch) were bored; and " Mr. Jack," as he was at once named, was safely deposited therein, together with sufficient hay to make a comfortable bed. In the evening, we put some nuts and walnuts into his box, to give him the chance of a supper, if he were so disposed; but after such a topper," as our gardener called it, his appetite seemed to be "nowhere." to In the morning, all were down very early see how the "invalid" was; and on into his sleeping box, and sit with his head out of the hole. lifting the lid of the box, he was found to be sufficiently recovered to make some vigorous efforts to escape. Finding these however After he had been with us about a fortunsuccessful, he became very sulky, and night, we began to try if he would become would not eat; but he chattered at a great sociable, and eat from our hands. To accomrate if any one touched his box. It being plish this, we kept him on short commons; now evident that he was not likely to die, we and when he came out from his berth set to work to make him a cage; and, after would offer him a nut or an acorn. We a couple of days' labor, succeeded in con- were now delighted to find that he would, structing a handsome dwelling, three feet and after a few trials, take what we offered him; a half in length, and divided into three though directly he obtained it, he would portions. The first consisted of a square box withdraw to his berth. This we were with a lid, containing his bed; and at one anxious to prevent; and on his next appear. end was a hole, in front of which his feeding-ance, he was enticed into his "revolver." trough roofed with wire, was firmly attached. The second division was rather larger than his sleeping apartment, and communicated with it. The sides and roof were formed of wire, and had an opening into his revolving cage, which was a cylinder of wire ten inches in diameter, and nearly two feet in length. When we had finished our job, and the varnish had become dry, we proceeded to instal him in his habitation. This was a very difficult affair, for he used his teeth in the most determined manner on everything within his reach; but at last, after many attempts with our hands well wrapped up in handkerchiefs, we succeeded in catching him by the back of his neck, and deposited him in his new domicile, in spite of his energetic efforts to prevent it. Here he remained the whole of the day, and could not be induced to show himself, though we placed nuts, &c., in his room (between his sleeping place and revolving cage). Next morning he set out to inspect his new dwelling, and soon found his way into the "revolver." Here he was regularly "adrift," for the open appearance of the wire-work induced him to try to get out; but the "revolver" shifting with his motions, made it very difficult for him to keep his feet. He then made a rush to get out towards the window (in the recess of which his cage was placed); but not having had any discipline at this species of "treadmill," after letting it turn once or twice, he held fast to it, and was whirled round several times in succession. After about an hour's strenuous exertions, he began to find that it was needful for him to quicken his motions, and save his nose, which got soundly rapped as each wooden bar (of which there were six to keep the ends apart) came into contact with it. It was very amusing to observe how carefully he would begin to turn it; at the same time hopping gently in the direction he wished it to revolve. This was always towards the window. When it had reached a pretty rapid motion, he frequently missed his step, and was carried round several times before he could stop. He would then "bolt" This was immediately shifted, so that he could not get out of it; and an acorn was offered to him; this he took from our fingers and then tried to escape into his box, but as he could not make his exit, he became very sulky, dropped his acorn, and remained above five minutes in one position,squeaking loudly. We picked up the acorn, and again offered it to him; but this time it was indignantly refused, and it was long before we could induce him to accept it. At last he got the better of his temper, took his acorn, and immediately sat up to eat it; though whilst doing so, his fine, full, black eye was fixed suspiciously upon us. would on our slightest He movement stop eating, and try to get to his berth; but he did not now drop his acorn. When he had eaten several, we let him go to his berth, where he remained some time. He then came out, and began exercising his "revolver," in the use of which he had much im proved; being now able to start it, and stop it, without any trouble. In fact, he spent most of his time in it, and became outrageous if one prevented him from spinning it round. One day, I brought in a cob of the Indian corn (known as "Cobbett's" corn) and offered him a few grains. On tasting them, he became quite excited, chattering away at a great rate; and when he had finished them, he climbed up the side of his cage, next to where I stood, evidently trying to get more. I thought this would be a favorable opportunity to try what amount of confidence he reposed in us; so I opened his box and stood quite still, waiting until he made his appearance. This he did not seem disposed to do, so long as he could see the corn. I therefore shifted my position, and stood on the other side, out of his sight. As soon as he saw me change my position, he entered his box; and seeing the lid open, was soon on the outside. At first he was a little surprised at finding himself so close to me; but the sight of the Indian corn (which I held in my hand), soon overcame his bashfulness; and he forthwith mounted to my hand, and there sat very contentedly eating some of it. |