FOOTNOTES:
[7] Political Economy: Chambers's Educational Course.
THIRST IN THE ARCTIC REGIONS.
The use of snow when persons are thirsty does not by any means allay the insatiable desire for water; on the contrary, it appears to be increased in proportion to the quantity used, and the frequency with which it is put into the mouth. For example, a person walking along feels intensely thirsty, and he looks to his feet with coveting eyes; but his good sense and firm resolutions are not to be overcome so easily, and he withdraws the open hand that was to grasp the delicious morsel and convey it into his parching mouth. He has several miles of a journey to accomplish, and his thirst is every moment increasing; he is perspiring profusely, and feels quite hot and oppressed. At length his good resolutions stagger, and he partakes of the smallest particle, which produces a most exhilarating effect; in less then ten minutes he tastes again and again, always increasing the quantity; and in half an hour he has a gum-stick of condensed snow, which he masticates with avidity, and replaces with assiduity the moment that it has melted away. But his thirst is not allayed in the slightest degree; he is as hot as ever, and still perspires; his mouth is in flames, and he is driven to the necessity of quenching them with snow, which adds fuel to the fire. The melting snow ceases to please the palate, and it feels like red-hot coals, which, like a fire-eater, he shifts about with his tongue, and swallows without the addition of saliva. He is in despair; but habit has taken the place of his reasoning faculties, and he moves on with languid steps, lamenting the severe fate which forces him to persist in a practice which in an unguarded moment he allowed to begin.... I believe the true cause of such intense thirst is the extreme dryness of the air when the temperature is low.—Sutherland's Journal.
AN AUSTRALIAN MISS.
The precocity of the Australian youth, to be properly understood and believed, can only be fully appreciated by being an eye-witness to some of these very extraordinary young creatures. I have seen a girl of ten years of age possess all the manner of an old lady of sixty: she would flirt with three men at a time, and have a ready answer for them when teasing her; would move like an accomplished actress, manipulate gracefully, play whist, chess, and other games, and talk about getting married. This child, for such I must call her, was a greater mental giant than O'Brien, with his moving mountain of flesh, and far more entertaining than twenty Tom Thumbs.—Shaw's Tramp to the Diggings.
THE DAY OF REST.
Rest, rest! it is the Day of Rest—there needs no book to tell
The truth that every thoughtful eye, each heart can read so well;
Rest, rest! it is the Sabbath morn, a quiet fills the air,
Whose whispered voice of peace repeats that rest is everywhere.
O weary heart! O heart of wo! raise up thy toil-worn brow;
The fields, the trees, the very breeze—they all are resting now:
The air is still, there is no sound, save that unceasing hum,
That insect song of summer-time that from the woods doth come.
And even that seems fainter now, like voices far away,
As though they only sang of rest, and laboured not to-day;
The hum of bees seems softer, too, from out the clear blue heaven,
As if the lowliest creatures knew this day for rest was given.
The spacious tracts of meadow-land, of bean-fields, and of wheat,
And all the glebe, are undisturbed by sound of Labour's feet;
The cotter in his Sunday garb, with peace within his breast,
Roams idly by the garden-side, and feels himself at rest.
The streams, the trees, the woods, the breeze, the bird, and roving bee,
Seem all to breathe a softer sound, a holier melody;
Yon little church, too, tells of rest, to all the summer air,
For the bell long since has ceased to peal that called to praise and prayer.
But while I stand 'mid these tall elms, a sound comes creeping near,
That falls like music heard in dreams upon my charmèd ear;
Like music heard in dreams of heaven, that sacred sound doth steal
From where the old church aisles repeat the organ's solemn peal.
Now Heaven be praised! a gracious boon is this sweet rest to me—
How many shall this truth repeat to-day on bended knee!
How many a weary heart it cheers, how many an aching breast:
Now Heaven be praised, a gracious boon is this sweet Day of Rest!
Pictor.
Torquay.
'THE BIRKBECK MAGAZINE.'
Some numbers have been sent to us of a cheap London periodical with this title. Its peculiarity is, that the promoters and contributors are young men, members of the Mechanics' Institution, Southampton Buildings, who intend throwing open their columns to unknown writers connected in a similar way with the other Mutual Improvement Societies. A considerable circulation might be secured by this plan; and perhaps such a work may be as well calculated to elevate the aspirations, and excite wholesome emulation, as the productions of more practised pens.
Printed and Published by W. and R. Chambers, High Street, Edinburgh. Also sold by W. S. Orr, Amen Corner, London; D. N. Chambers, 55 West Nile Street, Glasgow; and J. M'Glashan, 50 Upper Sackville Street, Dublin.—Advertisements for Monthly Parts are requested to be sent to Maxwell & Co., 31 Nicholas Lane, Lombard Street, London, to whom all applications respecting their insertion must be made.