wistfully up to its companions as they wailed around it; while we, who had caused them so much sorrow, unfeeling-like, were leaving them behind. Nothing else of particular moment has happened to-day. We had tea about sun-set, and spent the most of the evening playing cards. The night is as beautiful as the afternoon has been. I have just been on deck taking a walk with the captain, and looking at the stars. We can also see a beautiful revolving light, bursting at intervals through the darkness of night. It is that of the Bell Rock. Spirit of Caledonia's murky coast! Thy pale beam, glimmering like a star of night, CHAP. III-SATURDAY, 5TH MARCH. Slept very well last night, notwithstanding that my bed is very hard. By the time I got dressed, the breakfast was on the table; but I was not in a state for taking breakfast-the very smell of the viands was enough to turn my stomach. Knowing, therefore, that such would be the case if I attempted to eat anything below, I got a slice of beef on a biscuit, and went on deck. The cool air blowing in my face, at once put away the squeamish sensation; I could eat a little, and what I could not eat, Prince ate for me. The moment I come down to the cabin I grow sick, and the moment I go on deck I grow well. For this reason, I have been compelled to stay on deck all day, and refresh my eyes with looking on-nothing. We have been logging about in the Moray Firth ; a dull, gloomy day; no sight of land'; very little wind, but a heavy swell on the sea; and we have been all day in crossing the Firth. A cup of tea is a wonderful thing. I found that after drinking one, I could stay below without getting sick; and not only did I not grow sick, but on the contrary, I grew as cheery as you like. I had been in low spirits all day, and so had Mr. Crowe and the Captain. To make up for the want of natural spirits, they thought of substituting artificial, and therefore drank grog, which "ream'd" in their noddles for a moment, then evaporated, leaving them lower, in a spiritual sense, than they were before. After repeated, but unsuccessful, attempts to reanimate their natural spirits in this artificial way, tea-time came, when it was satisfactorily and beautifully demonstrated that grog, as an enlivener of animal spirits, and a cheerer of dull nature, must decidedly yield the palm to—a cup of tea. The cheering. influence of tea is well known to everybody. Hence it is that when people are desirous of having a night's social enjoyment, they call together a tea party. It is also a thing noticed by every one, that, on these occasions, there reigns at first a degree of stiff The ladies ness throughout the room—that is, before the tea comes on. are ranged on one side, generally the side farthest from the door, curling up their noses, and narrowly inspecting each other's dresses, with mim mouths, and modest eyes, that will not think of venturing to look over to the other side, where sit the gentlemen in most becoming attitudes, looking love and softness at every glance-adjusting their hair, shirtnecks, and stocks, not with the intention of setting themselves off any better, but because their hair is coming down about their eyes, and their stocks hurting their necks. But all this is gone through with a degree of stiffness, which, however, is destined to be done away with immediately; for lo! there comes the tea! the very steam of which has diffused life and animation over the whole room. The gentlemen start to their feet and help the ladies to cookies, fancy biscuit, short bread, bun, and puffs. A confused muttering of voices is heard coming from the ladies, and a glow of serenity and good nature comes over their faces, which in Miss Prettyone actually heightens into a blush, as the gentleman slips away the salver, leaving the whole biscuit in her hand, while she meant only to take the smallest possible bit. At this critical juncture it not unfrequently happens that a gentleman-only one though-on returning to his seat, finds it occupied, and has the good luck to get room made for him between two ladies; this, however, is a rare occurrence before the first cup But behold the tea over, and mark the effect it has had!— What a confusion of voices! what a sparkling of eyes! what smiles! what blushes! where is the row of ladies? and where is the row of gentlemen? There is now but one tremendous ring round the room; each lady is between two gentlemen, and each gentleman between two ladies! Well may we exclaim with the celebrated poet out "O the wonderful powers of tea, All on a merry evening. It maketh jokes go roung galore, It keepeth sorrow at the door, And friends, who ne'er were friends before, Do join to have a jolly roar, All on a merry evening." &c. As a restorative for exhausted nature, tea stands, and ever will stand, pre-eminent. What is more refreshing, after coming off a long and wearisome journey, than a cup of tea. This is a well known fact. It is the first thing our friends think of when we arrive all wearied and worn The drunkard, after a night's debauch, is sick all next day, till tea-time, after which he is all right, and ready to begin another debauch. Who ever heard of an old maid that cared a snuff for her dinner? There is no such a creature in existence. If there were, she would be looked upon as a phenomenon-a monster; for it is a notorious fact, and known by every body, that the heart of an old maid, her thoughts, her existence, all are in her tea. To enumerate all the virtues of tea, would be the work of a life-time. The progress of tea-drinking in our own country, since that day Jack brought home a pound to his mother, who made green kail of it, and invited two or three of her cronies to the feast-the progress of tea-drinking in our own country since that day up to the pre sent, is truly beyond the bounds of human belief. Were I to state it, you would not believe me. The poets, and most eminent writers of all ages, have celebrated the virtues of tea in words that can never die. You are all well acquainted with the exquisite song from which I have quoted the above extract: this, I believe, is from the most modern poet that has written upon tea. And so far as I can discover from my researches in the classics, the most ancient poet who has written upon that subject is Epicurus, a Latin poet, whose words, after being translated, stand thus: "It is the breath of tea as comes along, Balmy and fragrant from the steaming tea-pot; Tea works upon the heart as does a spell- : Like thee, O tea! there's not one thing on earth- 'Twas thus that the great men of old immortalized this most potent of herbs; and although by its own intrinsic qualities it would have been immortalized, even had there not been a single word written about it, still this shows that its virtues have been appreciated by all civilized nations, ancient as well as modern. The associations that we attach to tea are decidedly of a social and homely nature. Where can we find a more heart-warming picture of a domestic circle than the following, by Cowper ? "Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, (To be continued.) THE PRINTER'S SONG. BY ROBERT W. THOM. Brothers cheerily, cheerily ho! Now a lie, assailed with vigour, Now, a thought, a thought from heaven, So 'twill live till earth be riven, Brothers cheerily, cheerily ho! COUNTRY EXCURSIONS. THERE are no pleasures which retain their freshness like those resulting from the admiration of Nature; and even he who is permitted by a kind fate to open his eyes daily on the same waving fields, rich woods, and bright meadows, if he has a real taste for rural beauties, will scarcely allow that his enjoyment of them is diminished by the most familiar intimacy. But what can exceed the rapture excited in his breast, who, just escaped into the country, eagerly throws open his window the first morning after his arrival, and beholds, instead of a smoky atmosphere, close streets, and brick walls, the fair face of Nature, for which he has long been pining, and which now seems to exceed in loveliness all that his visions have pourtrayed or his fancy invented. The calm pleasures of years seem concentrated in that hour of ecstacy; he feels that a long exile is scarcely too dear a price for the transports of return, and consents, almost willingly, to purchase by renewed absence, the right to a renewal of such keen and vivid enjoyment. And what a change of thorough repose is afforded to the care-worn man of the town, by an occasional trip to the sea-side. There can be enjoyed to perfection the luxury of "having nothing to do." It is at the sea-side one feels especially privileged to be idle-thither neither the toils of business, nor of dissipation, can pursue us-there the phi. losopher may trifle, the merchant forget his office, the clerk his desk, the shopman his counter. Preserve us from the man who is so wise, in his own conceit, as to think it childish to spend hours in throwing pebbles into the sea, or waste of time to sit on the beach counting the waves as they advance or retire; to forget for a while business, and all the cares and anxieties of life, and dwell for a brief space with Nature and one's self! Who shall define the influence which a few sea-side musings may have on active life and social duties ? who shall estimate. the value of those calm reviews of the past, those quiet reflections on the future, which naturally arise to the mind when the world is shut out, when every violent emotion subsides, and we seem to extract from the peacefulness and purity of material nature around us, sentiments, wishes, and resolutions of corresponding purity and peace? No angry feeling can long resist the soothing effect of the gentle, monotonous tapping of the "faint, lazy waves," on the pebbly beach, and their "harmoniously grating retreat." The strongest troop of blue devils must contend in vain against the cheering influence of the " innumerable smilings" of the sparkling ocean, or its thousand snowy crests. Most pleasing is the retrospection of those hours when seated alone on the shore, with book in hand, and within a few paces of the water, we have waited for the gradual yet sure influence of the scene before us-now reading a few lines -now pelting the curled-feathery tips of the waves-now gazing on the magnificent expanse of ocean, while its delicious zephyrs fan the brow. The first effect, a sensation of almost ecstatic cheerfulness, and of unmingled good will-to this happy but excited state succeeds a calm still more delightful. The book falls from the hand, a luxurious sense of repose and pleasure steals over the frame, and a crowd of soft and holy reflections follow each other in quiet succession through the mind. For a time sorrows are forgotten-cares lulled to sleep-and fears silenced; those we loved seem more prized; those lost more tenderly, yet less painfully remembered. And when, by degrees, loftier musings intermingled, it appeared as if difficulties had vanished-mysteries ceased to perplex, and the veil which parts the material and spiritual worlds had lost something of its awful density. There be those, however, who, albeit keen admirers of all nature's works, dare not "go down to the sea in ships," or cannot even look upon the briny deep without certain qualms which materially detract from their enjoyment. To such the lowly valley, or the upland mountain, open abundant sources for the relaxation of the mind, the restoration of the overwrought energies of the body. Nature is always interesting, and in every situation has a beneficial influence on the mind; but on the mountain it is impossible not to feel as far elevated, in mind as in body, above the petty cares, the frivolous pursuits, the "low ambition" of the nether world. If any one desire to catch a glimpse of the yet undeveloped capabilities of his nature, of those mysterious longings after which the heart of man oft so vainly, yet so earnestly, aspires-let him wander on the mountain top, and alone. No words can adequately represent the delightful sensations which are experienced amongst mountain scenery. A man may pass all his life in towns, and the haunts of men, without being conscious of the possession within him of such feelings as even a single day's tramp over the mountain will awaken. A lighter and purer air is breathed there; and the body, being invigorated by exercise, the mind becomes more capable of enjoyment. In the very solitude of these scenes there is a sweet music; amidst the solemn silence there is an undefinable hum, which yet is not sound, but seems, as it were, the still small voice of nature communing with the heart, through other senses than those we are ordinarily conscious of possessing. It is a solitude which exalts the mental faculties—that soothes, purifies, and invigorates the soul-that teaches to forget this world indeed, but raises the thought to "another and a better."-A perpetual residence on the same spot, especially the interior of a large town, greatly enfeebles, if it do not destroy, habits of external observation, and tends materially to decrease the vitality of many valuable powers. In large towns the changes of Nature, except from heat to cold, from wet to dry, are few, and but little observed, and her most beautiful varieties are never seen. In towns the intellect may be quickened and strengthened by the closer and more frequent contact with other minds, but the pleasureable excitement arising from external observation of beautiful images, is, in most instances, comparatively small. By the disuse of the powers of observation, they become debilitated, and even the beauties of nature, rarely seen, lose much of their charm to the senses, and their soothing and purifying influence on the mind. We consider, therefore, that the study of, and frequent intercourse with, Nature, should form a part of the education of the young man, especially he whose lot is cast in a large town; and the power of combination afforded by such institutions as the Roscoe Club, offers great facility for this object. The locality of Liverpool also holds out greater inducements than many of our popular towns with the ocean almost at our doors-the lovely valleys, lakes, and mountain scenery of Wales on the one hand, and of Cumberland on the other, all within a few hours ride-brought by the steamboat and the locomotive within attainable distance of those whose opportunities of escape from the toils of business may be limited even to a single day. |