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seemed to be necessary for their protection, and the owners showed no concern for their security.

There is a degree of confidence exhibited toward strangers in Sweden, especially in hotels, at post-stations and on board the inland steamers, which tells well for the general honesty of the people. We went on board the steamer Wener on the morning of the 8th, but only paid our passage this morning, just before reaching Carlstad. An account-book hangs up in the cabin, in which each passenger enters the number of meals or other refreshments he has had, makes out his own bill and hands over the amount to the stewardess. In posting, the skjutsbonder very often do not know the rates, and take implicitly what the traveller gives them. I have yet to experience the first attempt at imposition in Sweden. The only instances I have heard of were related to me by Swedes themselves, a large class of whom make a point of depreciating their own country and character. This habit of detraction is carried to quite as great an extreme as the vanity of the Norwegians, and is the less pardonable vice of the two.

It was a pleasant thing to hear again the musical Swedish tongue, and to exchange the indifference and reserve of Norway for the friendly, genial, courteous manners of Sweden. What I said about the formality and affectation of manners, and the rigidity of social etiquette, in my letter from Stockholm, last Spring, was meant to apply especially to the capital. Far be it from me to censure that natural and spontaneous courtesy which is a characteristic of the whole people. Tho more I see of the Swedes, the more I am convinced that there is no kinder, simpler atid honester people in the world. With a liberal Common School system, a fairer representation, and release from the burden of a State Church, they would develop rapidly and nobly.

Our voyage from Gottenburg hither had but one noteworthy point—the Falls of Rollhiitten. Even had I not been fresh from the Rinkan Foss, which was still flashing in my memory, I should have been disappointed in this renowned cataract. It is not a single fall, but four successive descents, within the distance of half a mile, none of them being over twenty feet in perpendicular height. The Toppo Fall is the only one which at all impressed me, and that is principally through its remarkable form. The huge mass of the Gotha River, squeezed between two rocks, slides down a plain with an inclination of about 50°, strikes a projecting rock at the bottom and takes an upward curve, flinging tremendous volumes of spray, or rather broken water, into the air. The bright emerald face of the watery plane is covered with a network of silver threads of shifting spray, and gleams of pale blue and purple light play among the shadows of the rising globes of foam below.

It rains at last, and in torrents. But this

shall not hinder us from setting out to-morrow on a tramp through Wermeland to the valleys of Dalecarlia. B. I.


Excepting those who are destitute of reason, there are none who are, in truth, uneducated. We talk of educating the masses, while the masses are educating themselves, either for good or evil. A person, unable oven to read or write, has a claim to be called an educated person. He has ways, and manners and habits all his own; he has principles founded in truth or error; and thoughts concerning the common things of daily life, which are inwoven with his very being. From his earliest boyhood, he has been busy educating himself, and the results of his work are seen in his character; just as the skilfulness of an architect is exhibited in the proportions of the building that he planned. The boy who runs in the street from morn till night, subject to no restraint, will surely educate himself. He may indeed avoid the school room, and the influence of the teacher, but he will, nevertheless, prove a ready scholar. He will learn to be vulgar, by hearing vulgarity; to be profane, by hearing profanity; to be base in all his motives, by constantly associating with thoso whose motives are never right or laudable. Vice will be his teacher, and the bar-room, the saloon, or the hamlets of the low and the vicious, his places of instruction. Unless he listens to experience, and deserts his school at once, he will "graduate with honors," thoroughly, though wrongly educated.

The most important part in the training chil" dren receive at home or at school, does no' consist in what is often designated "book learning," because in after life, this "book learning" is discarded in part, and its place supplied by facts and thoughts drawn from experience alone. Thus the work of the teacher has advanced, as this truth has become more evident, and while it is none the less arduous, it is more honorable and more useful, because it seeks to make lasting impressions upon the mind of the child. It becomes important then that children have right examples placed before them. Practice and precept should join hand in hand, if we would save any from vice to virtue. Gentleness and love will teach a child to distinguish between the good and evil promptings of its own nature; to follow the one, to avoid the latter. The great moral want of our country is not educated men, for of these there is no lack, but of men rightly educated; and the great work of the teacher who would benefit the present, and desire a good name in the future, must be to teach those under his influence to educate themselves aright.

Connecticut School Journal.


The following beautiful and touching lines were written, by Daniel Webster^ on- the death of his son Charles:

My sqp, thou wast my heart's delight;

Thy morn of life was gay and cheery;
That morn has rushed to sudden night,

Thy father's hoU3e is sad and dreary.

I held thee on my knee, my son!

And kissed thee laughing, kissed thee weeping; But ah! thy little day is done—

Thou'rt with thy angel sister sleeping.

The staff on which my years should lean,
Is broken ere those years come o'er me;

My funeral rites thou should'st have seen,
But thou art in the tomb before me.

Thou rcar'st to me no filial stone,

No parent's grave with tears beholdest;

Thou art my ancestor, my son!

And stand'st in Heaven's account the oldest.

On earth my lot was soonest cast,

Thy generation after mine,
Thou hast thy predecessor past;

Earlier eternity is thine.

I should have set before thine eyes

The road to Heaven, and showed it clear;

But thou, untaught, spring'st to the skies,
And leav'st thy teacher lingering here.

Sweet seraph, I would learn of thee,

And hasten to partake thy bliss!
And oh! to thy world welcome me,

As first I welcomed thee to this.

Dear Angel, thou art safe in Heaven;

No prayers for thee need more be made;
Oh ! let thy prayers for those be given,

Who oft have blessed thy infant head!

My father! I beheld thee born,

And led thy tottering steps with care;

Before me risen to Heaven's bright morn,
My son! my father! guide me there.



There are two ways to live on earth—
Two ways to judge, to act, to view;

For all thin»s here have double birth—
A right and wrong—a false and true!

Give me the home where kindness seeks
To make that sweet which seemeth small;

Where every lip in fondness speaks,
And every mind hath care for all.

Whose inmates live in glad exchange
Of pleasure, free from vain expense;

Whose thoughts beyond their ways ne'er range,
Nor wise denials give offence.

Who in a neighbor's fortune find
No wish, no impulse to complain;

Who feel not, never felt, the mind
To envy yet another's gain.

Who dream not of the mocking tide
Ambition's foiled endeavor meets—

The bitter pangs of wounded pride,
Nor fallen power that shuns the streets.

Though Fate deny its glittering store,
Love's wealth is still the wealth to choose;

For all that gold can purchase more,
Are guards, it is no less to lose!

O, happy they who happy make,

Who, blessing, still themselves are blest!

Who something spare for others' sake,
And strive in all things for the best!


For what shall I praise Thee, my (rod and my King? For what blessings the tribute of gratitude bring f Shall I praise Thee for pleasure, for health or for ease, For the sunshine of youth, for the garden of peace?

Shall I praise Thee for flowers that bloomed on my breast,

For joys in prospective, and pleasures possessed?
For the spirits which brightened my days of delight,
And the slumbers that fell on my pillow by night?

For this I should praise Thee, but if only for this,
1 should leave half untold the donation of bliss.
I thank Thee for sickness and sorrow and care,
For the thorns I have gathered, the anguish I bear.

For nights of anxiety, watching, and tears,

A present of pain, a prospective of fears.

I praise Thee, I bless Thee, my Lord and my God,

For the good and the evil Thy hand hath bestowed.

The flowers were sweet, but their fragrance is flown,
They yielded no fruit, they are withered and gone!
The thorn it was poignant but precious to roe,
'Twas the message of mercy, it led me to Thee!

Caroline Fey.


If a populous hive is examined on a warm summer day, a considerable number of bees will be found standing on the alighting board, with their heads turned towards the entrance, the extremity of their bodies slightly elevated, and their wings in such rapid motion that they are almost as indistinct as the spokes of a wheel, in swift motion on its axis. A brisk current of air may be felt proceeding from the hive, and if a small piece of down be suspended by a thread, it will be blown out from one part of the entrance, and drawn in at another. What are these bees expecting to accomplish, that they appear so deeply absorbed in their fanning occupation, while busy numbers are constantly crowding in and out of the hive? and what is the meaning of this double current of air? To Huber, we owe the first satisfactory explanation of these ourious phenomena. The bees plying their rapid wings in such a singular attitude, are performing the important business of ventilating the hive; and this double current is composed of pure air rushing in at one part, to supply the place of the foul air forced out at another. Uy a series of the most careful and beautiful experiments, Huber ascertained that the air of a crowded hive is almost, if not quite, as pure as the atmoshphere by which it is surrounded. Now, as the entrance to such a hive is often, (more especially in a state of nature,) very small, the interior air cannot be received without resort to some artificial means. If a lamp is put into a close vessel with only one small orifice, it will soon exhaust all the oxygen and go out. If another small orifice is made, the same result will follow; but if by some device the current of air is drawn out from one opening, an equal current will force its way into the other, and the lamp will burn until the oil is exhausted.

It is precisely on this principle of maintaining a double current by artificial means, that the bees ventilate their crowded habitations. A body of active ventilators stands inside of the hive, as well as outside, all with their heads turned towards the entrance, and by the rapid fanning of their wings, a ourrent of air is blown briskly out of the hive, and an equal current drawn in. This important office is one which requires great physical exertion on the part of those to whom it is entrusted; and if their proceedings are carefully watched, it will be found that the exhausted ventilators, are, from time time, relieved by fresh detachments. If the interior of the hive will admit of inspection, in very hot weather, large numbers of these ventilators will be found in regular piles, in various parts of the hive, all busily engaged in the laborious employment. If the entrance at any time is contracted, a speedy accession will be made to the numbers both inside and outside; and if it is closed entirely, the heat of the hive will quickly increase, the whole colony will commence a rapid vibration of their wings, and in a few moments will drop lifeless from the combs, for want of air.

It has been proved by careful experiments, that pure air is neccessary not only for the respiration of the mature bees, but that without it, neither the eggs can be hatched, nor the larvae developed. A fine netting of air-vessels covers the eggs; and the cells of the larvae aTe sealed over with a covering which is full of airholes. In winter bees if kept in the dark, and neither too warm nor too cold, are almost dormant, and seem to reqaire but a small allowance of air; but even under such circumstances, they cannot live entirely without air; and if they are excited by being exposed to atmospheric changes, or by being disturbed, a very loud humming may be heard in the interior of their hives, and they need quite as much air as in warm weather.

If at any time, by moving themselves, or in any other way, bees are greatly disturbed, it will be unsafe to confine them especially in warm weather, unless a very free admission of air is given to them, and even then the air ought to be admitted above as well as below the mass of bees, or the ventilators may become clogged with dead bees, and the swarm may perish. Under close confinement the bees become excessively heated, and the combs are often melted down.

When bees are confined to a close atmosphere, especially if dampness is added to its injurious influences, they are sure to become diseased; and large numbers, if not the whole colony, perish from dysentery. Is it not under circumstances precisely similar, that cholera and dysentery prove most fatal to human beings? How often do the filthy, damp and unventilated abodes of the abject poor, become perfect lazar-houses to their wretched inmates?

I examined, last summer, the bees of a new swarm which had been suffocated for want of air, and found their bodies distended with a yellow and noisome substance, just as though they had perished from dysentery. A few were still alive, and instead of honey, their bodies were filled with this same disgusting fluid: though the bees had not been shut up more than two hours.

In a medical point of view, I consider these facts as highly interesting; showing as they do under what circumstances and how speedily, diseases may be produced.

Few things in the range of their wonderful instincts, are so well fitted to impress the mind with their admirable sagacity, as the truly scientific device by which these wise little insect? ventilate their dwellings. I was on the peint of Baying that it was almost like human reason, when the painful and mortifying reflection presented itself to my mind, that in respect to ventilation, the bee is immensely in advance of the great mass of those who consider themselves as rational beings. It has, to be sure, no ability to make an elaborate analysis.of the chemical constituents of the atmosphere, and to decide how large a proportion of oxygen is essential to the support of life, and how rapidly the process of breathing converts this important element into a deadly poison. It has not, like Leibip, been able to demonstrate that God has set the animal and vegetable world, the one over against the other; so that the carbonic acid produced by the breathing of the one, furnishes the aliment of the other; which in turn, gives out its oxygen for the support of animal life; and that in this wonderful manner, God has provided that the atmosphere shall, through all ages, be as pure as when it first came from His creating hand. But shame upon us! that with all our intelligence, the most of us live as though pure air was of little or no consequence; while the bee ventilates with a scientific precision and thoroughness, that puts to the blush our criminal neglect. I trust that I shall be permitted to digress, for a short time, from bees to men, and that the remarks which I shall offer on the subject of ventilation in human dwellings, may make a deeper impression, in connection with the wise arrangements of the bee, than they would, if presented in the shape of a mere scientific discussion; and that some who have been in the habit of considering all air except in the particular of temperature, as about alike, may be thoroughly convinced of their mistake.

[To be continued.]


What is there in nature so grand as the mighty ocean? The earthquake and volcano are ever sublime in their destructive power, but their sublimity is terrible, from the consciousness of danger with which their exhibitions are witnessed, and their violent agency is impulsive, sudden and transient. Not so the glorious ocean. In its very playfulness you discover that it can be terrible as the earthquake, but the spirit of benevolence seems to dwell in its bright and open countenance, to inspire your confidence.

The mountains and valleys, with their bold lineaments and luxuriant verdure, are beautiful; but theirs is not like the beauty of the ocean; for here all is life and movement. This is Dot the solitary beauty of rural scenery, in which objects retain their fixed and relative position, and wait to be examined and admired in detail. No, the ocean presents a moving scenery, which passes in review before and around you, challenging admiration.

These gentle heavings of the great deep, with its ruffled surface; these breaking up of its waters into fantastic and varied forms; these haltings of the waves, to be thrown forward presently into new formations; these giant billows, the sentinels of the watery wilderness; all, all are beautiful. In their approach they may seem furious, and pregnant with destruction, but there is no danger, for they come only with salutations for the pilgrim of the deep; and as they pass her bow or stern, retiring backward, they seem, as if from obeisance, to kiss their hands to her in token of adieu.

At one lime the ocean is seen reposing in perfect stillness under the blue sky and bright sun, and at another slightly ruffled, when the sun's bright rays tremble and dance in broken fragments of silvery or golden light, and the sight is dazzled by following the track from whence they are reflected, while all besides seem to frown in the darkness of tbe ripple.

Again it maybe seen somewhat more agitated and of a darker hue, under a cloudy sky and a stronger wind. Then you see an occasional wave raising a little above the rest, crowning its summit with a crest of white, which breaks from its top and tumbles over like liquid alabaster. Now, as far as the eye can reach, you see tbe dark ground of ocean enlivened and diversified by these panoramic snow-hills. As they approach nearer, and especially if the sun be unclouded, you see the light refracted through the

summit of the wave, in the purest pale green that it is possible either to behold or imagine.

Bishop Hughes.

The following account of the origin of the celebration of Christmas, is taken from an old paper. It will be interesting, and perhaps new to many, to be informed that it is of Popish and heathen origin. Ed.


Christmas is of popish origin, as the name Christ-mass imports, tho mass on the 25th of December being in honor of Christ. This feast was established by the usurping, tyrannical church of Homo in the fourth century, 350 years after the death of Christ. The Christians in the East celebrated the birth and baptism of Christ together on the 6th of January, and this day was called by them the Epiphany or manifestation, as on it the Saviour was manifested to the world; but tho Christians of the West, under the authority of the bishop of Rome, confined the celebration of the nativity to the 25th of December, which is the day now generally observed throughout Christendom. For what reason this particular day was selected, it would at this distance of time be useless to inquire, and perhaps, could we discover it, we should find it to be a mere conceit. Archdeacon Blackburne suggests that it was actually a pun upon a text of scripture, which he had somewhere met with, though the probability is that this gloss upon the passage was suggested by the time on which Christmas was observed, rather than that it fixed the time of that festival. "We are told," he says, "in the 3d chapter of John's gospel, that John the Baptist being informed by the Jews and some of his own disciples that the man to whom he had borne witness had begun to baptize, and had many followers, took occasion from thence to magnify our Saviour's character and office in comparison of his own; among other things to this effect, he says, v. 30, He must increase, but 1 must decrease; from which words occasion has been taken to argue from the probability that John the Baptist was born on the longest day of the year, because the days begin then to shorten or decrease, and that by the same rule our blessed Saviour was born on the shortest day, after which the days are gradually increasing."

It is said that the testimony of Cbrysostom proves that it was matter of tradition in his time that the birth of our Lord took place on the day which is now observed. "Alas 1" exclaims the truly Protestant divine above mentioned, " that a matter which the church makes of such moment, should be left upon the sandy foundation of tradition, three hundred and eighty years after it happened I" But, in fact, the testimony of Chrysostom is against the primitive observance of Christmas day; for he expressly says, when speaking of it, that it was not quite ten years since he was informed of ike right day; an acknowledgment which proves that 400 years after the birth of Christ the religious commemoration of the anniversary of it was still a novelty.

The birth of Christ has been placed by learned divines in almost every month of the year. Lightfoot, who is followed by many scholars, makes it fall in September. There is perhaps less evidence for December than for any month whatever.

Sir Isaac Newton traces up Christmas to a heathen origin. By the establishment of Julius Csesar, the winter solstice, or shortest day, was i fixed to the 25th of December, which the heathens made the nativity of the sun, as it then began to return. Now the Christians applied the observation of the same time to the sun of righteousness; and expressions to this purpose occur in the works both of Chrysostom and Ambrose, written about the time they fixed the name of the day. The words of Sir Jsaac Newton are as follows :—" The heathens were delighted with the festivals of their gods, and unwilling to part with those delights; therefore Gregory, to facilitate their conversion, instituted the annual festivals to the saints and martyrs. Hence it came to pass, that for exploding the festivals of the heathens, the principal festivals of the Christians succeeded in their room—as, the keeping of Christmas with ivy, feasting, play and sports, in the room of tho Bacchanalia and Saturnalia —the celebrating of May-day with flowers, in the room of the Floralia, &c.

It is a custom yet, in many parts of England, to deck tho houses, and even the churches, at Christmas, with ivy. Our climate will not allow the addition of vine-leaves, otherwise the emblems of Bacchus would be complete, nor would tbe usual festivities and intemperance of this season displease tho former votaries of the jolly god!

The end of the year was in all heathen countries given up to religious festivals. Our Saxon heathen ancestors began their year, according to Bede, on Christmas day, and that day and the night before were celebrated with many festivities. From them we derive the Yule-Clog, or GuleClog, or Log, or Christmas block, which "seems to have been used as an emblem of the return of the sun and the lengthening of the days: for as both December and January were called Guilt, or Yule, upon account of the sun's returning and the increase of the days, so (says an author learned in antiquities) 1 am apt to believe the Log has had the name of the Yule-Log, from its being burnt as an emblem of the returning sun and the increase of its light and heat."

From the Pagans are also borrowed the Yule Dough or Cake, a kind of baby or little image

of paste, which came to be considered as an image of the child Jesus, Christmas candles, the adorning of churches and houses with evergreens, and the like mummeries; but the Christmas box is probably the invention of the Romish priests. "We are told, in the Athenian Oracle (says Bourne) that the Christmas-box money is derived from hence: The Romish priests had masses said for almost the very thing: if a ship went out to Indies, the priests, had a box in her under the protection of some saint; and for masses, as their cant was to be said for them to that saint, &e., the poor people must put in something into the priest's box, which is not to be opened till the ship return. The Mass, at that time, was called Christmass, the Box, Christmass-Box, or money gathered agai nst that time, that masses might be made by the priests to the saints to forgive the people the debaucheries of that time: and from this servants had the liberty to get box money, that they too might be enabled to pay tbe priest for his masses, knowing well the truth cf the proverb, "No penny, no Pater-noster."

Such seems to be the history of Christmas and its attendant customs and ceremonies. The superstitions belonging to this holiday would form a large chapter. Happily, the day is becoming, every year, of less importance.

It is not pretended that there is any scriptural authority for the celebration of Christmas. Whether the day shall be religiously kept, is left to tho discretion of every individual and every Christian society. There are two considerations of some weight in this determination; the first, that the apostle Paul reckoned the observation of religious holidays by the Galatians, a proof of his having labored in vain; the second, that it is a Christian duty to get good and to do good out of season as well as in season, that is, always; by the one or the other of which a Christian will be swayed according as his desire of improvement and usefulness, or his abhorrence of superstition, is more predominant. Whichever way he inclines, he will, however, as a Christian, and as far as he is such in character as well as name, neither forget the birth of Christ nor confine the remembrance of it to a particular day. Ho will habitually reflect, and practically show, that he believes, that to this end was Christ born, and for this cause came into the world, that he might bear witness to the truth. He will bless God that Christianity is not a bodily service, a religion of times and seasons, meats and drinks, and that the power of Antichrist, which strove to make it such, and which persecuted such as resisted the progress of superstition and corruption, has been long on the wane in this happy land. At the same time, he will not oppose false religion with irreligion, but with true religion, testifying by the witness of a good life, that, whilst he is re

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