open. The food they principally like is the honey which comes from another insect found in their neighbourhood, and which they, generally speaking, bring home from day to day as they want it. Late discoveries have shown that they do not eat grain, but live almost entirely on animal food and this honey. Some kinds of ants have the foresight to bring home the insect on whose honey they feed, and keep them in particular cells, where they guard them to prevent their escaping, and feed them with proper vegetable matter which they themselves do not eat. Nay, they obtain the eggs of those insects, and superintend their hatching, and then rear the young insect until he becomes capable of supplying the desired honey. They sometimes remove them to the strongest parts of their nest, where there are cells apparently fortified for protecting then from invasion. In these cells the insects are kept to supply the wants of the whole ants which compose the population of the city. It is a most singular circumstance in the economy of nature, that the degree of cold at which the ant becomes torpid is also that at which this insect falls into the same state. It is considerably below the freezing point, so that they require food the greater part of the winter, and if the insects on which they depend for food were not kept alive during the cold in which the ants can move about, the latter would be without the means of subsistence.-Brougham.

THE EXILE.

THE exile on a foreign strand,
Where'er his footsteps roam,
Remembers that his fathers' land
Is still his cherish'd home.

Though brighter skies may shine above,
And round him flow'rs more fair,
His heart's best hopes and fondest love
Find no firm footing there.

Still to the spot which gave him birth
His warmest wishes turn;

And elsewhere own, through all the earth,
A stranger's brief sojourn.

O thus should man's immortal soul
Its privilege revere ;

And mindful of its heavenly goal,
Seem but an exile here.

'Mid fleeting joys of sense and time,
Still free from earthly leaven,
Its purest hopes, its joys sublime,
Should own no home, but HEAVEN.

Bernard Barton.

VISIT TO THE BLIND ASYLUM.

THIS is an interesting exhibition of the application of benevolence and ingenuity to repair the evils of one of the greatest losses our nature can endure. Every sort of work is carried on which does not absolutely need the aid of sight; and many which, on a first consideration, we should think would do so. The making of shoes, of baskets, of cord for window-lines, door-mats, worsted bell-ropes, sacks woven entire without seams either at the sides or bottom, and other like occupations, were going on, and all seemed busy, contented, and happy. At two o'clock, several of the blind went into a sort of musicroom, with a good organ at one end, fitted up with seats at the other for strangers, and practised singing; a blindman, who appeared to be the teacher, announcing to the company the number of the piece to be performed, that it might be found in the books, which were plentifully scattered about. They sung in admirable taste, and with the most admirable harmony in parts and in chorus.

"I am never merry when I hear sweet music," is an observation of a great poet, and one which those who feel its charms most readily assent to. There was here something more than mere harmony to awaken a melancholy though sweet and touching feeling. Nature seems to have given to many who have lost their power of vision, a peculiar sensibility to music, and skill to excel in it. It is to them almost a new sense, a world of meaning and thought, conveying ideas more bright and touching than they had from it before. It was most interesting to see the poor blind come into the room hand in hand, feeling

their way to the seats allotted to them, and to take a part in what to them must be" a feast of reason and a flow of soul;" and then to watch their countenances brightened, and their whole frames seeming to live with more than common intensity, at the first few notes struck on the organ. It was affecting in the extreme to observe how one would roll around her sightless orbs as her fingers kept time with the music, while another kept his body swinging backwards and forwards as he bent over the organ, drinking in, as it were, every chord, and dwelling with ecstacy on every melody; and again, to watch them singing with their heads thrown back, and seemingly unconscious of every thing but the eloquent music they were joining in, and expressing by their very features, the delight they were experiencing; and in this attitude they were more interesting in their condition of blindness and darkness, than if their faces had been lighted up by the brightest eyes. Anon.

THE FLIGHT OF YEARS.

THE flight of years-how soft, how fleet!
How like a winged angel's feet,
Departing from the starry throne,
On messages of love unknown!
A setting sun-a gleaming sail
Driving before the western gale,
Then lost where ocean's verge appears-
Are shadows of the flight of years.

The flight of years—ah, who can tell
Where the departed moments dwell?
Lost in what deep and boundless sea?
Sunk in what wide eternity?

For ever past-for ever gone-
No trace to fix a thought upon ;
But mirth and grief, and hopes and fears,
Are swallow'd in the flight of years.

The flight of years-how many an eye
Weeps at the thought of years gone by!
Looks back upon the sad array-
The restless night-the anxious day;

Sees the lov'd form so pale so chill,
And mourns its broken idol still!

While all below, that soothes or cheers,
Seems buried in the flight of years.

The flight of years-it bears along
The mighty purpose of the strong,
Youth's thousand fond imaginings,
And manhood's ardent spiritings,-
The sigh of love, the sigh of care-
The sad forebodings of despair-
And pride's approach, and slander's sneers,
Sink in the rapid flight of years.

The flight of years-'twill soon be o'er,
When the last pilgrim treads the shore;
When darkness broods across the sun,
And mercy's gracious work is done;
When heaven renew'd, and earth restor❜d,
Shout at the presence of their Lord;
Disease and death, and sin and tears,
Shall perish with the flight of years.-Anon.

THE WATER BOTTLES OF THE EAST.

In the book of Joshua there is a very interesting account of the wily artifice by which the Gibeonites prevailed upon Joshua to make a covenant of peace with them, when he was drawing near to their country, in the course of subduing the lands in which the people of Israel were to be settled. A party of Gibeonites were sent to meet Joshua, pretending that they had come from a far distant land, as ambassadors on behalf of their countrymen. They took old sacks upon their asses, and wine bottles old and rent and bound up. They had also old shoes and garments, and a few remains of stale and dry provisions, to give the appearance of having just finished a long journey. When they came before Joshua, they informed him that their home was far distant, and that having heard of his great victories, they had been sent to entreat that he would make a league with them. "Wherefore our elders, and all the inhabitants of our country, spake unto us, saying, Take victuals with you for your journey, and go to

meet them, and say unto them, We are your servants, wherefore now make a league with us. This our bread we took hot for our provisions out of our houses on the day we came forth to go unto you, but now behold it is dry and it is mouldy-and these bottles of wine which were filled were new, and behold they be rent-and these our garments and our shoes are become old by reason of the very long journey."

The bottles here spoken of were not like those now used in European countries, but were bags made of the skin of animals. The same kind of bottle is frequently referred to in Scripture, both literally and figuratively; but the mention of it occurs with peculiar interest in the three following instances.-A bottle filled with water was given by Abraham to Hagar, when he sent her away from his house. (Genesis xxi.) When Sisera took shelter in the tent of Jael, she opened a bottle of milk and gave him drink. (Judges iv.) And in I. Samuel xvi. we are told that" Jesse took an ass laden with bread and a bottle of wine, and a kid, and sent them by David his son unto Saul."

In the East, water and other liquids are to this day kept and carried in skin bags, of which the construction is exceedingly simple: and thus we are enabled to illustrate, by the present practices of a people in our own day, one of the customs so frequently referred to in the clear and familiar language of Holy Writ.

In making the bottles here described, the hide is stripped off entire, except at the openings where the head and feet are cut off; these openings are sewed up except one, which is left for a spout, and secured by a string removable at pleasure. While the skin is being prepared, it is filled with hot sand to stretch it to its proper size; the hides of different animals being used,-as a kid, the sheep or goat, and the ox,-the bottles or bags are of various sizes, some scarcely larger than our ordinary bottles.

The water-carrier of India loads his bullock with a large skin full at the well, either to accompany travellers, or to sell the water to those who live at a distance. Whenever troops, or other large bodies of people, proceed upon a march into the interior of the country, a number of water carriers of this description accompany them.

Bags of skins are also used in Spain to carry wine from